Ella and the prince stood in an expansive entertaining room. The floor was marble and there were framed canvases on the walls: Petryan landscapes and even a haunting image of the Hazara Desert at night. At the back of the room were thick carpets, low benches, and piles of embroidered cushions with patterns of crimson and gold. A squared column stood in the middle of the room, rising to the high stone ceiling, and each facet of the support carried a tall rectangular mirror, so that Ella could see the prince's broad shoulders, tall back and long dark hair, as he stood with his back to the mirror.

Ella could also see herself reflected in the silver. Her straight, blonde hair fell past her shoulders; it had grown long, she realised, nearly to her waist. Ella's green enchantress's dress, long-sleeved and hooded, clung to her body, the silk sheer and supple. The magic in her dress meant it looked new and fresh, as if she hadn't just fought in a great battle — hadn't nearly been killed. It followed the contours of her body in a way she had never been fully conscious of before.

Had her body filled out more, in the last year? Her calves were lean and her legs tapered only slightly from her hips. But her hips seemed a little wider, and her waist a little narrower. Her breasts were never large, but the silk of the dress pressed up against them, and if the dress had been lower cut, Ella was sure she would have been displaying cleavage. The skin at her wrists and throat was pale, infinitely lighter than Ilathor's, and Ella's green eyes looked seriously back at her from her heart-shaped face.

"Is it really just us?" Ella said in a small voice.

"Yes," the prince said the word like a whisper, or like the hiss of a snake, soft and sibilant.

He took a step towards her and gazed down at her. Ella looked up at him, suddenly afraid. They were from such different worlds. Was this really going to happen?

"You are my desert rose," Ilathor said. "It was in memory of you that I chose the symbol for my house." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Lord of Fire, how I wept when I thought you were gone."

Prince Ilathor lowered his head, closing his eyes as his lips found hers. This time when the shock hit her it was powerful, so strong that she almost made a sound. Ella's mouth sought his as tingling waves ran up and down her spine, and as their tongues met she felt a melting warmth welling up from inside her.

The prince's arm came round behind Ella's back, and she felt his hand caressing her dress in the small of her back.

Then, as they continued to kiss, with a smooth sensation of pleasure flowing through every fibre of Ella's body, the prince's fingers found the buttons at the back of Ella's dress.