The signs of fate aren’t always evident.

They do not always taken form in the prophesied birth of a hero, the fall of a legendary tyrant, the death of an era, or the rise of a mighty empire. More often than not, they mask themselves in the shadow of auspicious moments, make themselves easy to be mistaken for luck or pure coincidence. Fate, and its agents, require as much submission as they do blind faith, for to believe in Her is to relinquish all control, all influence.

But for a child a prophecy, such a thing is commonplace, for their future is no more their own than their present moment.

And for a man of prophecy, it is impossible to ignore the signs he has been trained his entire life by palace Mercers to seek.

“Ella,” she replies while offering a hand, her voice polished to a shine, absent of the local accents, of which he has heard many.

[i]A foreigner then. How thrilling.[/i]

Ella’s hand fits against his with the perfection one can only call destiny. Her skin is soft as the finest silk in the realm, cool to the touch in a way a beverage quenches the thirst on a summer day, crisp and refreshing. And yet, for all her hand’s gentleness, Narcisse is abundantly aware of the power it holds, and more keenly, the effort to restrain it. This is not a hand that moves recklessly or without purpose, he reasons, all too aware of the havoc it might rain on those in its path. This woman is certainly more than he ever imagined she might be—more than her pale skin, her dark hair, her molten eyes and full lips—and each moment in her presence only whets voracious curiosity further.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Narcisse says, releasing her hand and returning his grip to the mug of ale he’s brought with him. “I’ve wanted to for quite some time,” he confesses unbidden, confused, but not appalled, by the unexpected bought of honesty. He leans into it, lets it carry him deeper into along the current of conversation. “I would tell myself for months, if she comes tonight and she is alone, I will introduce myself and ask to drink with her. And every night, you’d shown up alone, and every time, I’d talk myself out of it.”

Narcisse flips his attention back to Ella, though it never fully left, lips curved in a rogue’s grin. Sharp, inviting, and dangerous “But, we aren’t getting any younger, are we? So, here I am, hoping to learn more about you, the lovely and mysterious Ella. Sit with me a while?”