And Throws Away the Key The princess's luck holds: the chess-world's coutieres set steel bands around her leg even before they set the collar round her throat. Her companions all watch as she tests out the first step, ball of foot, weight coming down, heel flattening against dirt. They cheer the surprise on her face as if it's joy: Fai clapping, Mokona bouncing, Kurogane allowing himself a slight grim smile. Steadily Syaoran meets her gaze. The darkness in her eyes is his alone; it's not a look she ever offered to Syaoran-kun. He locks it in the half of his heart he never gave away. Apples In this country, apples are green and tart enough to sting the inside of her mouth. She remembers them pale yellow and sweeter, although Kurogane-san mutters that the only proper color for apples is red. "More!" Mokona demands, bouncing, and Fai-san tosses six of them into Mokona's wide-open mouth in quick succession. The marketplace children tug at Fai's sleeve and clamor: Do it again, again! Syaoran-kun, watching, smiles faintly, but not with his eyes. He looks like someone who's gotten so used to being hungry that he no longer realizes it hurts. Sakura presses an apple into his hands. "Eat."