"Two ministerial," Lola answered. "One with the same injuries as you, I might add. Makes me wonder if the both of you were up to the same thing..."

She took the clothe away, and rewet it, wringing it out. "As for your second question," she said. "A group of knights brought you here unconscious from blood-loss. They claimed they were going to find them men who attacked you, but I wouldn't hold your breath. I know those kind of lies when I see them.:"

She let the cooling cloth sit against his skin, and put a clay cup by his head. "When you feel up to it, drink that," she said. "It'll taste like dirt and sour beer, but it will make you stronger, I promise."

That done, the lady had to turn back to her other charge. Much to her chagrin, the girl was up, and shakily intending to get to her feet.

"Madame," the healer said, voice stern. "Lay back down."

"No." Miranda was adamant, even if her head was spinning. "I have no means to pay you, Lola. I'm leaving."

"I already did!" Hilde said, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Miranda, please."

"You what?" Miranda turned back, eyes wide. "But what are you going to eat tonight? We worked hard for those coins..."

"You're more important," Hilde soothed. "Please, rest."

Khaylan nodded along with the healer's words. One with the same injuries as him? He discarded the idea as pure coincidence... or perhaps the healer was generalizing. Surely their couldn't be two people in the same village, who happened to take a crossbow bolt to the shoulder... within hours of each other. Still, he had this nagging feeling that crept along the back of his neck that there was more going on here than he truly understood.

Despite the healer's instructions he tried to rise twice more, almost making it to his feet each time before a wave of nausea and had him reaching for the edge of the bed to turn his fall into a more controlled lowering of his body. His mind felt fuzzy, an almost warm swimming sensation buzzing at the base of his brain. He wondered if perhaps the healer had drugged him because of the pain. He looked over at the clay pot, wondering if it was more drugs, or if perhaps it would help dispel the fog that seemed to lay over his mind like a heavy blanket. Hesitantly, he took the drink in hand, sniffing at it cautiously.

The concoction smelled awful, but it didn't smell anything like what Khaylan expected a poison to smell like. Besides, why fix up his shoulder just to kill him with poison? He took a sip of the drink, choking back bile as the horrid tasting substance slid down his throat. "Dirt... with more than a hint of sour beer. At least the woman knows her tastes," Khaylan muttered, keeping his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as he swallowed more, trying to get the substance down his throat without touching his tongue. When he finished the drink, he took a few deep breaths... and tried to stand once more.

He made it to his feet this time, although his balance was about the same as a man who had drunk a gallon of alcohol in only a few minutes. He reached out one hand and braced himself against the wall of the hut, half-feeling his way along to the door that led into the adjoining room. He could hear voices on the other side... perhaps his brother knights? The only way to know for certain was to emerge, and hopefully they could leave this whole event behind them.

His free hand seized the door, opening it slowly and carefully as he stumbled through. "I need a hor-," he began, but interrupted himself when he noted the occupants of the other room. He blinked several times in surprise, as though not sure what he was seeing was real. Why would Miranda be here?

Lola inclined her head. "You're up sir Knight?" she smiled. "I suppose you took my concoction earlier than most. Brave of you."

Miranda snorted, and allowed herself to be lowered back down. She was drowsy, and wobbly, though she felt the world slowly clearing back into focus. She knew Hilde was there, naturally...but was also aware of Khaylan, the much less thrilling news.

The healer cared little. "Before you go, sir," she said. "I insist on running a test or two, to at least make sure you're aware enough not to get your purse snatched."Sshe flashed him a grin. "If you behave, I can lend you a horse even, since your brethren kindly paid my fees."

"You're...a cruel woman, Lola," Miranda noted. "Charging for the hurt..."

"These are rough times, Miri," Lola replied. As part of the test, she lit a small flame on a tiny stick. "And I'm not picky; whatever you can give me is good enough."

She held the light, and told Miranda to follow with her eyes. The blond did so, and let the woman poke, and prod, and test what she wanted. "You'll be fine in about an hour or so," she finally said. "But, while I'm here, I need your story of what happened."

"Hm?" Miranda blinked.

"Your friend claims you were attacked by a witch," Lola narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps calmer minds can give me the truth?"

Miranda blinked, searched her recent memories, and felt her body tense. Fear flooded her mind, as she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "It was," she shuddered. "everyone was frozen! And then...s-she grabbed me, and stabbed my right shoulder with her fingers. M-my blood formed some kind of pattern on the ground, I don't know what it did and...and..."

She frowned up at Khaylan. "It connected to you," she said, raising one eyebrow.

Khaylan shifted nervously on his feet, putting a hand on the doorframe to brace himself. He took a deep breath to calm himself as the healer's words hit him. Could it really be related? He glanced towards Miranda, nodding slowly, the beginnings of comprehension forming within his mind. He still didn't understand what the curse did, but he began to believe that it affected them both. Why her though? Why would the witch involve another person in her revenge? And out of all the available options, why Miranda, a woman with whom he'd had little but conflict with in the past?

"The pattern flowed towards me, then over my skin. I'd thought the witch was just trying to kill me, and that perhaps the spell had failed to do so," Khaylan said, his voice growing shaky, "why it involves her is beyond me. I am the one the witch has a vendetta with."

He looked towards the healer, desperate for answers. "Do you know something about this kind of spell?," Khaylan asked, fighting hard to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Hm," Lola considered it. "Well, tell me; do either of you, minus the natural aches and pains, feel any different now than you did before?"

Miranda gave it a thought. It was hard to discern through her sore bod frame, but something did feel strange. She remembered that odd feeling before, that awful feeling when the witch had vanished, and everything seemed so fuzzy. Could that have had anything to do with it?

"I feel like...someone's breathing down my neck," she said. "Like their constantly sanding behind me....and something else I can't really say. It just feels wrong..."

Lola nodded. By now, she had gone up to fetch a book, one covered in dark skin, and with some strange symbols etched onto it.

"That's a black magic book, that is," Hilde hissed. "It's illegal to own by order of the king!"

"And I promise you the king's library owns several," the healer quipped. "Would you not like me to look up the answer to what ails your friend?"

Hilde blushed. "N-no..."

"Than shush. Now you, Milord; how do you feel?" Lola inclined her head.

"Like I got shot but a fragging crossbow bolt...," Khaylan growled, glaring at the book as though he could will it into combusting. When it didn't he grunted in annoyance, making a note to enquire how long the village had been hiding a witch.

Khaylan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the healer was scrutinizing him down to his very soul. He forced himself to calm down, focusing his mind elsewhere and trying to see if he could feel anything like what Miranda had described. He frowned slightly feeling a prickling sensation run up and down his neck.

"I feel... I don't know... watched," he said, his eyes snapping open, "though that isnt exactly abnormal for me..."

The healer did not look satisfied by his answer, and so Khaylan attempted to press deeper, lowering his instinctive defenses against anything that could cloud his mind. Only then did he begin to feel it. A presence, like someone looking over his shoulder, pressed so close it was almost suffocating when he realised it. He felt like part of his soul was dragged out behind him, leaving a long line out to... where?

"I feel like there's someone else here," Khaylan said, struggling to find the appropriate words, "someone only I can sense, who's got ahold of part of my soul and the rest of me is just wandering about, stretching it out."

The healer looked grim. "I feared as much," she said, stopping her page turning. "Yes, exactly as I feared."

"Feared what?" Miranda demanded. "What's going on?"

The healer shook her head and placed the open book on the table. "Tis a spell of soul-binding," she said. "A Soul Bridge' specifically. The witch has used dear Miranda's blood to connect your spirits as one."

She pointed to Khaylan. "Thus, if you are injured by, say, a bolt," she winked. "So is she," she turned her eyes to Miranda. "Likewise, were you to get killed, say, in a skirmish, he would die as well. And vice versa."

"WHAT?!" The bard painfully sprang to her feet, only barely noticing her body ache in protest. "You can't be serious!"

"I speak the truth, my friend," Lola said. "I'm afraid, my lord, that the witch has killed you in a round-about fashion. Your life is now in the hands of someone who dwells in the dangerous sections of the city."

"You must be joking," Khaylan said, the color draining from his face as he looked slowly from the healer to Miranda, "you mean to tell me my life is tied to hers?"

He shook his head slowly. trying to deny what part of him knew to be the pure truth. "I refute this. You are in on it, aren't you? Why wouldn't she just kill me outright? Why tie my lifeforce... to hers? Why involve her at all in this?"

He started to move for the door, suddenly short of breath and with a desperate need to be outside. It was all too much, if the witch wanted him to suffer, why involve Miranda? It would have been so much easier to kill him outright, was this meant to make him suffer? His life in the hands of someone he could barely standing being in the same room with, let alone trust. Khaylan shook his head again, leaning heavily on the door frame. He would go back to the knights... yes... and he would have Miranda arrested and placed in protective custody. That should ensure he didn't die because of her mistakes. He would find this witch and make her undo what she had wrought...

But how?

Khaylan took a deep breath, measuring each of his following breaths in a breathing exercise as he slowly turned from the door to look back at the healer. "What do we have to do to lift the curse?"

The healer snorted. "Ah, were it so simple, my lord," she all but laughed. "It's not a curse, that's what's confusing. This is the kind of thing normally done in the romantic circles. There's a specific ritual to undo it that can only be done on the new moon...or," she winked. "to, eh, bond in the physical sense, if you catch my drift."

Miranda's face flushed bright red. "No, no!" She shook her head furiously. "Absolutely not!"

"Well then, I guess you have a month to wait for that ritual," Lola said. "I can even perform it free of charge..." she narrowed her eyes at Khaylan. "If milord can promise to be a gentleman and not 'mistreat' an innocent girl in the meantime."

Anger flooded Miranda's system. Despite the ache in her shoulders, she stood up, and pointed an accusing finger at Khaylan.

"You," she said, venom dripping from her words. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't mucked around with dangerous magic, I wouldn't be in tis mess!"

Khaylan was about to speak the same words when Miranda spoke them for him. He wouldn't be caught dead sleeping with-

He arched an eyebrow at Miranda's protest, almost taking offense. What peasant girl wouldn't dream of bedding a knight like him? He had money, power... he shook his head slowly. It didn't matter anyways, she didn't want him and he didn't want her...

The venom in Miranda's voice brought him back to reality. Her words stabbed at a much deeper part of him than he thought possible, and for a moment, he contemplated storming out and getting shot by another crossbow, if only to spite her. He wheeled towards her, the anger building in his body until he thought it would burst. "How dare you!," he began, ready to launch into a rant about how all of this was really her fault. How she should be begging him for forgiveness for... for... for what?

It hit him like a kick from a horse. She was right. For once, this was all his fault. There was no one else to blame, no one else to hide behind, no one else to shoulder the burden of what his actions had wrought. The fury went out of him like a tidal wave, and all he was left with was his guilt.

"No... for once you're right," he muttered, his gaze sinking towards his feet, "I was the one who struck the bargain. I was the one who failed to follow through on my end. I was the one who sought you out earlier... I am the one who put your life at risk."

H paused for a moment, ,looking back up at Miranda, "I know it doesn't cut it, but I am sorry. If I thought for a moment that this is what would happen if I reneged on the deal, I would have completed it in a heartbeat. That won't help us now though."

"We have a month of this curse to deal with," Khaylan said, "and that means a month of avoiding pain, not to mention death."

He turned to look at the healer, " you are certain there is no other way to terminate the curse?"

Miranda had to admit, she was shocked. She expected the noblemen to pin this on her, saying she should have tried harder; run away, done more, that sort of thing. Instead, Khaylan took responsibility for the situation, and actually met her with an appology. Such amove rendered the blond speechless, before looking away in a way might even describe as bashful, or at least caught off guard.

"Um....actually," she said. "That...does at least...make me feel a little better. Thank you."

Lola shook her head. "I'm afraid not, my lord," she said. "Twere it a curse, I could undo it rather easy. But I'm afraid this is but a spell, nothing so malicious."

Miranda scoffed. "Not malicious, right," she corssed her arms "It's just a spell that robes me of my will, nothing special."

"Actually, it was devised for betrothed couples," Lola giggled. :"You see, if the two of you get frisky with anyone else, you're officially stuck like this forever. It was done as a means to keep betrothed couples from mating with anyone else before they consummated the marriage; dignity and all that."

Oh great, more good news, the girl thought. Hilde gently stood up, and approached the two bound souls.

"Milord," she said, voice shaking, but full of courage. "I must ask, what is it you intend to do now? I...I fear you may have frightening plans for my friend."

The concept made Miranda quirk a brow. "Yes, Milord..." she wondered; not aggressively, but certainly dryly. "I suppose you intend to put me under protective custody now? I would hope not, as such treatment would feel more like imprisonment than protection."

Khaylan, frowned, considering his options. He had intended to do just that, though preferably with about six other knights at his back. He muttered under his breath about witches and their odd customs and stranger magic. Still, he couldn't just allow her to run amok and he doubted that offering to provide an armed escort would sound any better to her ears. They may have hated each other, but that doesn't mean he hadn't learned a thing or two about his new... 'partner'?

Perhaps subtlety would prevail where brute force could not.

'You cannot deny that would, perhaps, be the smarter move. After all, I'm not completely unaware of the troubles on the streets these days," he shifted slightly, his old life flashing before his eyes, "but I get the feeling you would likely... disapprove of that course of action, so I would only be placing us both at greater risk for little reason."

"And seeing as how if either of us slept with another person, we would be tied like this for the rest of our lives, my plans for this evening are now shot," he chuckled slightly, a bit of his previous chauvinism rising, "would you turn me down if I offered to buy lunch? Presuming you have no other plans today."

He shifted again, leaning his weight from side to side andwaiting for her response. Perhaps not his most subtle maneuver to this day, but it was the only way he believed he could get her to at least grudgingly remain close by until he could figure out what to do.

His demonor continued to change; it would have been frustrating, had the lady not already had her fill today. She rolled her eyes at his first comment, only imagining what kind of painted thing he would have spent his night with.

"Plans?" she repeated his last thought, and chuckled. "My life is too uncertain to make any kind of plan, my lord."

Still, she'd be lying if she didn't admit to being hungry. So, while her suspicion still rang high, she gave him a small bow. "A begger can never say no to free food, my lord," she said. "I am grateful."

"May I purpose an idea, before you go?" Lola quipped. "One that would forgo the need for irons, yet allow his lordship to keep his new 'partner' out of danger?"

Miranda turned. "I'm listening."

The healer smirked, and stood up.

"I have in my possession, as a needs of payment from some," she said. "Various finery for women. Why not simply put a dress over the mouse and tell the court she's a friend of a friend you're watching out for? I imagine half of what you tell is lies anyway, what's one more?"

"Hey!" The red-head said, twitching. "Who are you calling a mouse?!"

Lola narrowed her eyes. "Trust me, my friend," she said, lowly. "Amidst the courtiers, it's all you'd be as you are now; and they'd gut you on sight."

Khaylan looked at the ground, uncomfortable once more. "A fair assessment," he said, though whether it was in response to the subtle knife games of court life, or his own capacity for lying was unclear even to him. His gaze drifted back towards Miranda, and he lifted a hand to his chin, tilting his head to one side in thought.

"You may be on to something actually," Khaylan began, "it'll take more than just a dress to convince them, but it has some merit..."

And so long as she doesn't speak very much... or become offended at the subtle jibes and barbs... or display truly poor manners... this could work,, Khaylan thought to himself. He was already forming the lies and excuses he would need to make for the rest of the month, until this strange spell was over. After all, it was little different from the farce he'd been playing out for years.

Of course, if they were discovered, they'd likely both be tried, and Miranda would be executed... which in turn would kill him....

"The best games are played when its all out on the table," he said, nodding at Miranda, "think you can pull it off?"

Miranda looked between her friends, and back at the man she was tied so closely to now. There was an unreadable expression on her face, as if going bacjkwards in her mind. Finally, the philly seemed to finally given in, injured soldiers sinking down.

"I know I can," she said, awfully quiet. "I didn't think I'd ever get to..."

"Excellent!" Lola clapped her hands, and put a hand on Hilde's shoulder. "Hilde, darling, why don't you go take miss Miranda to my room, and see what fits."

Hilde's eyes sparkled, the idea of a life-sized doll flooding her images. Miranda suddenly felt like the dresser's manniquin as her friend happily dragged her into the back, cooing in a girly like fashion.

"Oh Stuff it, would you?" the blond sighed, before she vanished.

Lola chuckled, and drifted back up to Khaylan. "Like I said, I need to check a few things before I can let you go."

She started checking his vitals, and lit a match for him to follow with his eyes. "Perhaps some clarification is in order," she said softly. "What if I told you that Miss Miranda isn't as new to the court system as you think? In fact, would you believe she used to be an active participant."

Khaylan arched an eyebrow at the healer's words, "Next you'll tell me that you're queen of the fae folk and the sun is really just an angry tortoise. If that was meant to see how sane I am at the moment, I would reccomend a more believable test."

He sat in silence for a few moments as the healer looked him over once more. Could it be possible though? Miranda? Ex-nobility? Why would she ever step down from such a life of comfort to sing and beg in the streets? His mind couldn't really accept the idea, as long as he had known her she had been the low born peasant girl who took pleasure in frustrating and annoying him. Yet he had only run into her a few years ago... could it be possible that he had heard perhaps even met her before in his social circles?

"Alright, fine," Khaylan muttered, throwing his hands up in grudging surrender, "what do you mean by that, healer? She's been to court before, not as entertainment?"

"Not as entertainment, no," Lola said, putting the fire out. "She'll kill me later for telling you, so keep your mouth shut."

The healer stretched, and went over to the wash bowl. "She was a hand-maiden to the queen," she said, washing her hands. "Years ago, no one would recognize her now with this fresh crop of nobles. Her family had a decent standing, but it all came crashing down his majesty started making eyes at her. He would have given her the world, had she just jumped into the sack with him."

Lola shook her head. "Stupid thing refused. Her family lost their land, and were put out in the streets. Most of her family has left for better places, but she's opted to stay here."

"Ow!" Miranda's voice echoed from the halls. "Hilde, that pinches!"

"As you can see, she's forgotten some of her manners," Lola noted. "You'll have your work cut out for you, but you'll find it easier than you think."

"A hand- maiden? To the queen herself?," Khaylan stared at the healer, open surprise playing across his face. After a few moments, he began to chuckle at the irony of the situation. "You mean to tell me, that all these years, I've been looking down on and squabbling with someone who, by all rights, used to outrank me socially?"

He paused suddenly, about to say how ridiculous it all sounded. And yet, was it any more ridiculous than a peasant boy making a deal with a witch to claim a knighthood? What about that same peasant boy being bound by a witches spell designed for betrothed couples to a woman he had started the day out hating?

He shook his head slowly, "Fate, it seems, has a sense of humor." And we, it seems, are the punchline.

"And a gallows one, milord," she said, voice serious. "Watch yourself, this is a dangerous game for everybody."

Finally, Miranda was pushed out. The gown was cinched at her waist, the corset amply hugging her chest, the silks skirts playing about her legs. Hilde had selected something in a soft, rosy red, with silver accents around it, a modest neckline, and sleeves to the elbows. It was nothing too extravagant, but it would do.

Lola looked over her shoulder. "Well, you need a bath to be more convincing, but you'd fool anyone else. You could attribute her dishevelment to the trip here I suppose."

"Well forgive me if I didn't exactly have a golden tub laying around," Miranda muttered, crossing her arms.

"Always do," Lola chuckled, before turning back to the prince. "Well, you're both good to go. I'll send some extra poultice's with you in case the pain comes back, and I'll get that horse I promised."

"Horse?" Miranda quirked a brow. "Not horses."

Lola's grin turned playfully malicious. "Nope."

Khaylan arched an eyebrow as Miranda entered the room once more, surprised by how oddly... fitting the dress looked on her. He cast a glance towards the healer, lending some more credence towards her story of Miranda having once been of noble rank herself. He opened his mouth, about to ask Miranda if the story were true or not, and if so, what her side of the tale was, but realized that the healer had spoken to him with the intent of being discreet and so cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to find something else to say. "You look...," he suddenly found himself short of words, an unusual occurrence for him, "I mean... that dress looks good on you..."

And now for the hardest part. "...Milady."

He barely got the word out, his mind stuck on thinking of her as the peasant girl from the streets. The dress helped, but there was quite a bit of history to overcome, and even a simple hesitation like that could end up causing all the wrong questions to get asked to the right people. He berated himself for the slipup and stood up straighter, bowing slightly and throwing on a falsely charming grin. I must treat her as a Lady of the court, with all due respect and honor, he thought to himself, or else we're both dead.

"Let's try that again, shall we?," he said, "Milady, you truly are looking wonderful today. Is that a new gown? If I might be allowed to say, you'll be the envy of the entire court. I almost fear to bring you lest the noble lords flock to you in droves and block mine own sight of you."

He stood back up, feeling a bit more confidant in this ruse than before. He was surprised at how much of his words, though overly flowered, rang true as he looked at her a second time. She did look good.

The best lies, all have a core of truth to them, he reminded himself, one of the earliest lessons he had learned at court.