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her brother, always looked out for him. Seeing him suffering, starving in his room, going meal after meal without getting a bite to eat, she often smuggled him food, just a bit of cheese and some fruit wrapped in a cloth, but Davage, grateful, devoured it. She had a habit of sneaking out of the castle and going to the village by the sea. When Davage was old enough, she took him with her. They dressed up as peasants, and using the tunnels running under the castle, they snuck into the pubs and wharf-side bars. Davage was astounded. He loved talking like a commoner, walking among them, not being judged at every turn. And the food—to simply order what you wanted and be able to eat it at your leisure … truly remarkable. And fights; Dav and Par often got into fights in the bars, bouncing their fists off of commoners' faces and then mug-hoisting with them afterwards, no hard feelings, no harm done.
    Davage's incognito forays into the village with Pardock were some of the most wonderful adventures he'd ever had. How he cherished his sister.
    And then there was Poe, his other sister. Poe was often away from the castle for long periods of time—where she was or why she was gone for so long, Davage didn't know. When she was there, she was strange, silent, gazing at something that only she could see—not even Davage with his Sight.
    It was unheard of to be sick in the League. Sickness, other than embarrassing and seldom spoken of fungal infections, was a scandal, a sure sign of weakness and bad breeding. And Poe was sick, badly sick in her brain. She was mentally ill.
    She was crazy, to use the vernacular. One could smell the sickness on her … a strange, metallic, basic smell.
    Were House Blanchefort not so highly placed, were Sadric not such a skilled gentleman at spinning a topic in League circles, her illness could have brought the House down in a scandal-ridden heap. Sadric, though, was very protective of Poe. If he was strict and harsh with Davage, if he was angry and argumentative with Pardock, he was patient and doting on Poe. Somebody had to be, for she was so sad, so lonely in her haze-clouded little world. Everything about her seemed to be flawed … imperfect. She was attractive but not beautiful like Pardock. She was tall like her brother but frail, bent, teetering. She had blue hair like her brother and sister, but only in strange wispy patches—she was mostly blonde-headed. Platinum blonde—a commoner's hair color.
    Sadric often tasked Davage and Pardock to watch Poe after their mother's passing during the days when he was away at a function. They sat there with her for long periods of time, two sisters and a brother— one tall and fierce, one tall and restless, one sad and sick.
    It was hard not to love Poe, though—that innocent face, that silly head of blonde-blue hair, her shy, slightly comical bearing. Davage and Pardock passed the time by trying to entertain Poe, they took her into the huge, mysterious Telmus Grove behind the castle and showed her the wondrous plants and animals there, and she laughed and clapped, her blue eyes full of wonder.
    Then, before long, her eyes always grew blank, and she fell into a spell. Such was her life. Pardock once knocked the teeth out of a lady who had made a crass public comment about "Crazy Poe," and said that she "smelled" funny—Dav and Par eventually became as protective of her as their father. She was their sister, sick or not, and they loved her.

    * * * * *

    Davage ran through the castle … pursued this time by his sister Pardock.
    As they ran, they both wept, Davage heartsick and in grief, Pardock out of fear and love for her brother.
    Gasping for air, his heart fluttering, Davage stopped and slumped to the floor, weeping in wracking spasms. Pardock caught up to him, she in her blue House Vincent gown, Davage in his best, his wedding attire.
    The wedding the Pardock had just prevented from happening. The baton rolling on the floor of the chapel, his Xaphan