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no!' Arrabella muttered, gasping for fresh air amid the rancid stench of his breath.

      'I do believe, Lady, that it is I you seek,' said the actual handsome stranger. He kindly dispatched the ogre to the edge of Lake Loch, with one well-timed elbow; and followed up with an olde-worlde bow. The rich, velvety tones of his voice caressed Arrabella's ears like sea foam gliding against the entrails of a gutted fish on the shore.

      Once more, she felt herself swoon to this stranger's power. She even closed her eyes, quite ready for the kiss she felt sure he was about to plant on her rosebud lips.

      Instead, the handsome stranger ever-so-gently took her hand in his and whispered as the breeze whispers through the Legume leaves, 'I am Lord Langley Kilkenny, and it is an honour to make your acquaintance, Arrabella.'

      Arrabella's head jerked back as swiftly as the Googlemeister bird flies. Instinctively, and also very quickly, her hand reached for the Inuuku wand hidden safely between her bosoms. In a flash she had raised it to his strong, yet entirely strokable throat.

      'Lord Langley Kilkenny, I demand you tell me who you spy for! How do you know my identity?'

      Shocked, yet equally amused, the Lord's mouth twitched in one corner as though he stifled a laugh. 'Why, Lady Arrabella, I do not spy for any foe. I spy often for my own amusement; and in this case for the gratuitous enjoyment of your lovely - err - gown. I had already guessed your identity from the sign-in forms at the Competitor's Registration Desk. I should also perhaps remind you of the name tag you wear above your well-formed bosom.'

      Arrabella flushed as the blood stormed from her heart to colour her cheeks. She felt ablaze with a heat she was not entirely comfortable with. Was she angry or just mortified at her own stupidness?

      Or was it something else entirely?

      Perhaps it was the handsome Lord himself that made her squirm with a fire in her belly that she'd never before encountered. The Reginas had done fine work in raising her to be a warrior, but they dismissed all talk of love as fairytales, and lust as impractical.

      Was Lord Langley working a fancy mojo on her; a spell to make her legs turn to meatloaf jelly? If so, to what end?

      Whatever the reason for her reaction, Arrabella searched wildly for focus. This day was not about manly perfection or velvety tones or scanty loincloths - oh, it really was scanty - it was about the Tri-Tower Tournament, and becoming the Champion of Champions.

      Arrabella tore her gaze from those peacock-blue eyes, and turned to the darkening sky.

      The moons were almost in alignment, and the Towers would soon begin to rise from the depths of the lake. The mood of the spectators and competitors alike was changing. The air was thick with tension and expectation and strange nervous smells. Would the Powers That Be find the competitors worthy to compete in the mysterious tasks? Or would they all be slaughtered, deemed unfit to even compete?

      Quarrels began to break out within the crowd as nerves competed with greed. Two Liddleprik Giants from opposing gangs managed to knock each other out, with well-aimed boulders to the head. And a meditating Emo Elf's om-shaka-shaka was rudely interrupted when a nervous Fargingo Fairy spewed vile black vomit into his lap.

      As the previously-quiet and reverent folk in the crowd also began to murmur louder, and louder, more petty quarrels erupted, taking out many competitors before the tournament could even begin.

      Arrabella kept her cool, wondering if the power of the Towers was already at work, weeding out those unworthy, and therefore unnecessary; or whether a goodly percentage of the competitors were just fools.

      'We should stick together, my Lady.' Lord Langley's dulcet tones once again interrupted Arrabella's concentration. 'We surely stand a better chance of coming out of this victorious, or at least alive, if we look out for one another.'

      Arrabella's heart fluttered in her chest and warmth once again spread throughout her body, all the way to her special places. The prospect of spending time with this perfect specimen of manly maleness was certainly appealing. But her brain argued with her heart, and her other bits, and a stern voice inside warned it would be unwise to tie herself to anybody now; particularly someone she knew nothing about, no matter how darn good he looked.

      'Why?' she began the questions. 'Why do you want to win this tournament? Why are you here? Why is the power so important to you? Why would you be willing to share it with another?'

      The Lord's face creased with something which seemed to be a mix of concentration and pain. 'I must avenge my father. Only the powers of the earth and the underworld and all that is in-between will allow me to do that. I will return my father to his life and I will find the one who ended it in the first place. Somewhere in all the lands is a seven fingered man. When I find him, I will walk straight up to him and say: "You killed my Daddy. Get ready to die." Only then will my life be worth living again.'

      Arrabella was speechless. She had not expected so noble a reason for his desire to win. She certainly wasn't expecting a motive so similar to her own. She made a decision then and there, and clasped his surprising oily hand in her own.

      'You are right, my Lord. We shall win this together.'

      Suddenly all around her fell silent. The battling and quarrelling stopped in mid-swing and shout as a bigger, louder angrier noise competed for attention. An angry roiling, swooshing sound came from Lake Loch, as it began to froth and whir and spin like a toadskin tunic in a wash cycle.

      'My lady, the moons,' whispered Langley to Arrabella, his warm lips dusting her earlobe faintly. 'The eclipse is nearly upon us.'

      Arrabella clung tight to the hand that held her own, amazed by the spectacle of the moons uniting and by the frothing lake as it prepared to expel the Tri-Towers from its depths.

      Arrabella wondered - and she had time as the Towers were certainly taking theirs - what the Reginas would think if they saw her now? Would they be proud that she waited so bravely on the shores of Lake Loch? Would they be impressed that she'd found so worthy a companion to help her meet the destiny for which she'd been primed her whole life?

      Even with Langley's strong hand moisturising hers with a thin layer of oil, Arrabella suddenly felt alone and confused and just plain scared.

      What if the Reginas had been wrong? What if she wasn't really The One? After all, it could just be fairy-tale wishful thinking on their part. Just because they'd taken her in as a mere spriteling - a half-fey, half-gypsy-human left alone in the world after the evil little pixies had made off with her parents - didn't have to mean she had a 'destiny'.

      And yet the Reginas had always been convinced of her calling. They were sure that with their training, the kind only a Regina could give in all kinds of everything, that the wee scrap of a child with eyes that flashed vermillion would indeed be the next Champion.

      Arrabella sighed. But maybe it wasn't enough. What if she let them down?

      And surely, if they were certain, where were they? At least one of them should be here to witness her moment of triumph. But where were they? Arrabella had scanned the crowd countless times and their tell-tale hoop skirts and stylish yet sensible shoes were nowhere to be seen.

      Arrabella chanced another look, tearing her eyes from the closing moons and shifting uncomfortably with the sudden dewiness beneath her dress. She found that four eyes were upon her, rather than the spectacle before them. There were two creatures staring at her - and neither of them Reginas.

      The hate-filled eyes of the hag Betty-Sue drilled into her with an intensity that almost matched the hardness that pressed into her back from the man who gripped her tight.

      The other eyes, a pair of startling green ones, were deep set in the face of the Fairy Prince. Arrabella raised an eyebrow at him. When this elicited no response, she realised Prince Jim wasn't staring at her; he was gazing at Langley, and his green tunic, interwoven with emeralds and jade and pupa-pod-peas was jiggling with his excited little dance. Arrabella eyed him curiously, wanting to call out to him and ask him why he

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