As predicted, the line about waitresses and queens made front pages all over the country. People have been calling the palace to beg for interviews and TV spots.

Considering how scrappily my conference started out, I’m shocked that they retained only the part where I looked on top of things.

And yet, there are also negative words arising. Gossip magazines, websites, logs everywhere have begun to spread a rumour that I haven’t graduated from high school, and that I’m founding my campaign on sullying Ganondorf Dragmire’s reputation. They said I didn’t improvise my speech yesterday, and that I’m only a good actress. How ironic.

Tetra, I learned, had left the stage yesterday because she was certain I was going to screw up. And when she overheard the rest of my conference, she started crying, with relief.

Needless to say, my discomfort has risen.

As for Link, he didn’t leave with Tetra. He stayed right behind me all along, through the journalists’ slight mockery and slight interest, patiently, never interrupting to plead that I was insane to get me offstage as fast as possible. When it was over, I turned to him, and he said nothing. He looked completely blank, which only made me feel worse. I know I assed them out.

I stayed to take a thousand million photos, and then he lead me back inside.

I didn’t see Tetra at first, because she was too busy sobbing with relief in Gonzo’s arms, to the giant’s complete and utter glee. But when I came back in, exhausted beyond belief, she practically strangled me she was hugging me so hard.

I never saw Tetra that emotional… and that proud.

Link, on his part, merely looked at me with a weird sort of look that I couldn’t categorize. Finally, he said, a bit slowly, “That’s wasn’t bad.”

Which, in light of the situation, wasn’t too reproachful.

Still, I retreated to my room as fast as possible, avoiding any further comments. At that point, I just wanted to curl up and die. I never felt more like an impostor than I felt then.

Which is why, this morning, when Kotake ―and not Link, who probably assumed I was going to sucker punch him again― came to wake me up, I said, “I’m not getting up.”

I haven’t been asleep all morning. I actually made use of my television and laptop to check out how I’ve been doing, dreading public response, and when I saw how utterly juvenile it all was, I just went back to bed and muffled my sobs.

I’m not supposed to be miserable, I say to myself. I’m supposed to be smiling, and happy, and gracious.

The thought only makes me unhappier.

“You have to get up.” Kotake is about as stubborn as me. “Link says you have to be in the White Hall for a public hearing this afternoon with a Youth Group to protect the environment.” Kotake sounds harsh. I don’t blame her.

I just grumble and pull the thick comforter over my head. “I’ll just stay here until everyone forgets me, okay? I messed up.”

“You mean that some people thought that you were pathetic yesterday at your conference?” Kotake has a way of making it sound horrible. I don’t answer her. “So what? People have been through worse than that. Just because some half-wit nutshells think you weren’t anything to write home about doesn’t mean everyone thinks that way.”

“Yeah? What about all those rumours about me not having finished high school?” I’m being hysterical. “And all those things about me having learned that speech I did by heart? I mean,” I sit up, and Kotake just looks at me flatly, “what kind of person goes around spreading rumours like that? Especially lies? Tell me!”

I’m being unfair. Kotake is, after all, just the old lady who does my bed every morning. She’s hardly the one I want to be taking the anger out on, which should be myself.

Kotake just rolls her eyes. With the plainest tone I ever heard anyone use, she says, “You’re being stupid, girl.”

Uh. Wow.

“For one,” Kotake says, “you have your college diploma. It’s on paper, and you’re probably still in the school records. So that rumour is going to die out. And for the speech, who cares if you learned it by heart or not? Politicians have been doing that for ages. Now stop moping around like you’ve suffered heartbreak. You’re made of sterner stuff. Get out of bed, get dressed, and go talk to that bloody Youth Group so that they don’t get angry and mess up my tapestries.”

I’m speechless as I watch Kotake exit the room, hobbling as usual.

My stubborn side is telling me to lock myself up in my room and refuse to talk to anyone for the rest of the day.

But then I end up obeying her.

Maybe I’m a wuss, but I really do care for youth groups and the environment. I used to be in the Wood Scouts, after all.

Until they kicked me out for trying to syndicate them, that is.

When he greets me down in the dining room, where I’m eating lunch ―I skipped breakfast, ― Link smiles at me as though nothing is wrong. I can see that he looks tired, though. Behind him is Darunia, who, in spite of the general mood today, has no trouble keeping a broad smile on his lips.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greets me enthusiastically. “So? Had a nice night thinking about your newfound popularity?”

I’m starting to think that Darunia doesn’t know what the words ‘sensible’ and ‘sympathetic’ mean.

“Actually, Darunia, I spent the worst night of my life realizing that I messed up what would have been a life-changing conference.”

“Did you now?” Darunia asks, apparently unfazed by my obvious depression. He sits down beside me, and his chair creaks. Koume observes him warningly but puts a massive plate of food in front of him. “I’d think the journalists calling to ask for your presence at late-night shows would be proof enough that you’re loveable.”

“Loveable, I guess,” I admit, laughing a bit, in spite of myself. Darunia has that effect on people. “But a good regnant queen? I’m not so sure.”

“You sounded confident enough yesterday,” Link comments between mouthfuls, staring at his spaghetti without much expression.

Darunia makes an eloquent motion with his hand at Link, who is rolling up his spaghetti on his fork while deliberately ignoring me, and says, “See? If the publicist says so…”

“Yeah, I sounded confident,” I say, directly to Link. “But that’s because you taught me to sound confident. I’m probably the best liar in all of Hyrule now, thanks to you. So, sure, I sounded confident. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Whoops, that didn’t come out like I wanted it to.

Link looks up at me, with those sharp blue eyes ―oh, Din, I’m such a moron― and says nothing. Then, he turns to Koume, who just brought in a fruit bowl, and says, “Great spaghetti, Koume. Your tomato sauce is a killer.”

Koume smiles at him toothily, as though she’s trying not to be seduced by his natural, plain compliment, but I can see she’s feeling all fuzzy inside.

I can safely say his blatant avoidance of my current concerns does not make me feel fuzzy inside. Quite the contrary, actually. I thought Link cared! Now, he sounds like some heartless, food-obsessed deaf imbecile.

Maybe I’m just cranky.

“And,” he adds, in my direction, looking serious enough, but not like we’re discussing life and death, “I’m going to be talking to you about this, but not at the moment, so hold that thought. I’m not through with you.”

“I don’t see what the big fuss is all about,” Darunia continues, to me, as though Link hadn’t really said anything significant. “You’re the most honest person I know.”

“Thanks, Darunia,” I say, quietly.

“So,” Darunia goes on, leaning forward towards Link over his huge plate of spaghetti, “what’s today’s match plan?”

Link finishes his bite, and says, to me, “You’re going to be dealing with a Youth Group. A couple of journalists are going to be there, but you should be able to focus only on the kids. They come from the Kokiri area, and they’re on about protecting the Kokiri Forest and Lost Woods. Well, you can discuss it with them.”

Darunia looks bored. “Who cares about trees? We should talk about protecting volcanoes. Now that’s something exciting. Did you know,” he says to me, “that I’m from Goron City?”

“The place with the dormant volcano north of here?” I ask, vaguely interested. I don’t know much about Darunia, so it’s a great occasion to learn more about him.

“That’s right,” Darunia nods gleefully. “Goron City is pretty much built into the rock, so you can sometimes feel the mountain shake. Ever been there?” He asks me.

I shake my head. “Not on my salary.”

Darunia frowns and looks reminiscent. “Shame. The place is great.”

I smile. “I trust you on that one.”

Darunia nods. “Maybe you’ll go there, if you ever travel to Calatia.”

“If I last that long.”

Link suddenly stands. I jump, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge me. He’s really weird today. He’s distant, serious, like he has a lot on his mind. And why didn’t he come to wake me up? I thought he had forgiven me for the elbow thing.

He takes his empty plate and brings it back to Koume. I hear them exchange a couple of words, and then he comes back. To me, he asks, “Done yet?”

I glance down at my almost-clear plate, and scarf down the few bites left. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. Link warned me about it, too. But at this point, I’m not exactly going to be dainty about noodles and tomato sauce, no matter how delicious they may be.

“Now I am,” I tell him, once my plate is duly cleaned up.

Darunia makes a comment under his breath about impossible schedules then proceeds to finish his own plate. He waves Link off. “You two kids go on ahead. I’ll join you.”

Link hardly acknowledges Darunia, which I think just goes to show how uncivil he’s being today. I wave at my bodyguard, but Link practically tugs me out of the dining room and down the hallways.

He’s so aggressive and sudden. I can’t help but glare at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

Link suddenly stops. It’s like he put out the brakes or something. I nearly slam into him.

He turns around and says, “What’s gotten into me?” Uh-oh. He doesn’t look too happy. “What about what’s gotten into you?” He asks.

He looks really baffled, and he’s motioning with his hands a bit wildly. I can honestly say I’ve never seen him lose it like this. “One minute you’re on about how you think you can be a great ruler and the next,” he look incredulous, “you’re unable to decide if you’ve got what it needs. You’re on and off like a switch, constantly!” He looks suddenly hostile. “Would it be too much to ask that you make up your mind?”

I stare at him, and I feel my eyes grow moist. “Maybe it would. I haven’t been here two weeks yet!”

“Maybe I should have chosen someone more decisive, then, to be a decisive queen?” Link says, looking suitably irate. This only fuels my own frustration.

“Maybe you should have,” I answer him, feeling self-righteous. I jab a finger into his chest and say, feeling tears come to my eyes for sure, “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t come to fetch me that day, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

Link lets out a sharp bark of laughter, but it’s not amused. It’s nasty, ironic, and, in a cruel, cynical tone, he says, “My fault? Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’d have been much happier cleaning tables for the rest of your life!”

I flinch. Then, with bite of my own, I say, “Maybe I would have! It would have been way better than being tossed around on an emotional roller coaster like the one you’ve made me endure for the past eleven days!”

Link glares at me, and the motion only exacerbates the sharpness of his blue eyes. I try my best to keep my gaze in his, but there’s something in there, something wavering beyond the icy look. “Maybe you’d like to go back home, then?”

“Maybe I should,” I say, but I’m surprised at what he just implied.

We fall into a heavy silence, sizing each other up. Link turns on his heel, and brings his hands up to his forehead, and I hear him heave a loud sigh.

“Look, Zelda,” he says, now much calmer, and he turns to look at me earnestly, “That’s not what I meant. I…” I see his gaze become almost imploring and apologetic, “I still think you have what it takes to become a fantastic queen. But I can’t work with a girl who won’t decide what she wants!”

I bite my lip and wipe my eyes. He comes forward. Because his touch is so gentle when he touches my upper arm, I don’t move away.

He rubs my arms softly, and says, “I’m sorry.”

“Give me five days?” I ask, and he observes me critically. “At the end of those five days, if I really can’t handle it, I’ll just bow out gracefully.”

I know that poses a big problem: how will I tell the people I’m backing out after basically telling them I’m staying in the game? And who will replace me to ensure Ganondorf doesn’t take the throne? Clearly, Link is also considering this. He doesn’t look exactly happy. Still, I guess he can see there’s no other solution, since he sighs and says, “Fine. But until then, no more talk about this.”

I nod. There’s a long, long silence between us. I notice, once again, how handsome Link is, even when he looks unsure. A lot of emotions pass on his face, fleetingly, too fast for me to identify them.

“They’re waiting for you,” he finally says, motioning vaguely. “In the white hall.”

I follow him there, because I might get lost, since it’s my style. We reach the lobby again. It seems I always end up here. Link pauses. In the doorway, near Rauru, is a young man with bright brown hair, on the longish side, in a sort of scraggly mess, looking relaxed in jeans and polo, with a bit of an arrogant, but teasing look in his bright green eyes.

“Who is that?” I ask, softly.

“Ralph Ambi,” Link answers me, in surprise. “A symbolically titled lord from Labrynna. One of his ancestors was Queen Ambi of Labrynna. He was supposed to be there at the coronation, though I’ll say he’s earlier than expected.”

No kidding.

Ralph turns to look at us at the same time as Rauru. He seems to notice Link first. “Hey, Forester. Long time no see.”

Link smiles, looking a bit strained since our argument. He says, “Didn’t want to miss any of the fun, Ralph?”

Ralph laughs. He looks good, I guess, though I’m not in the mood for social pleasantries, so maybe my opinion of him is lower than it should be. “I had to see your protégée before everyone else, and you know it.” With those words, his eyes slide towards me, and he smirks. “I take it you’re the lucky one we might be celebrating?”

I barely have time to welcome him that he’s kissing my hand in greeting. Oh my. How noble. This is certainly the first time something like this happens to me. How exciting. Link examines the motion critically as I try to refrain from blushing my ears out. When Ralph doesn’t move away, Link clears his throat loudly, looking more serious than is strictly necessary. Ralph looks up with a sort of interested smile.

“Sorry, Ralph.” Link says, not looking as sorry as he sounds. “But as is, Zelda is already late for a meeting with a youth group.”

“I see,” Ralph says, smirking at Link without missing a beat. For some reason, Link looks annoyed at him. I can’t really figure out why. “I might as well join in. You don’t mind, do you, Miss Zelda?” He shoots me a charming smile.

I smile back, flattered by his use of the Miss before my name. “You’re gladly welcome.”

And indeed, he is, I consider half an hour later, when, sitting in front of a roomful of teens and preteens decked out in bright green, I realise that I should never cross the younger generations of Hyrule. I know that Ralph Ambi finds it all extremely amusing. He hasn’t stopped smirking at me and at Link ―to my publicist’s apparent annoyance, as though they have a personal vendetta against each other that Ralph has been winning― for the past half-hour.

Maybe Ralph has dealt with kids like this before, but I know I haven’t.

“And this is why,” the leader of the Youth Group concludes with the skill of any politician her elaborate speech about protecting trees, “it is our firm belief that a reserve in the area of Kokiri Forest is essential to the protection of the vast floral variety of the region.”

Saria Woods is one of those obvious, hardcore protesters. She’s a pretty girl roughly the same age as Aryll, though she’s even more eccentric than Aryll, if that was ever possible. Saria has chosen to dye her hair in bright green, because, I think with amusement, the vivid colour of her shirt wasn’t enough. Her blue eyes are pretty, and her skin is slightly tanned from staying outside, exploring the forests of Hyrule.

She’s also one of those who, if given a cause, will fight for it to the death, as her conclusive, impossible-to-counter speech just demonstrated.

Right behind her is Mido Greene, her biggest admirer and minion. His hair is a natural bright red, even more shockingly so than Malon’s. He’s a freckled, awkward teen, with a fierce protective syndrome towards Saria. He’s pretty much a bully and a loudmouth if there’s anyone to boss around, but the moment Saria raises her finger, he’s at her feet, waiting eagerly for new commands. A bit like a dog, I decide.

Ralph seems to find this whole thing absolutely hilarious, as his obvious smirk keeps reminding me. His green eyes are taking it all in with clear detachment. I notice that, well, he doesn’t look that bad at all…

I realise the kids and the few journalists are expecting me to say something. I lean over to Link in my chair and ask, “Does the territory she’s describing belong to anyone in particular, or does it belong to us?”

“Us,” Link says, looking vaguely interested in the issue, “though you don’t have the jurisdiction to do anything with it.”

“Then why are they talking to me?”

Link holds back a small laugh. He’s about to suggest something, when suddenly, Ralph leans over on my other side and whispers, “If I may propose something.”

I turn to him and lean to hear whatever he may say. He and I are practically forehead-to-forehead, and Link has come by to overhear whatever Ralph is saying, with a bit of annoyance on his face, again. What’s up with him? He’s so weird with Ralph.

I know the three of us must look unbearably foolish, but whatever.

“Since you don’t have the jurisdiction to physically help them, yet,” Ralph says, “you might as well become their spokesperson.”

“You mean… endorse them?” I ask.

Ralph nods and shrugs. “I do it all the time.”

“And it works?” I ask again.

“Sure it works. Makes them feel good, and it makes you look good.”

I squint at him, holding back a smile. “You’re being silly.”

Ralph smirks. Okay, so maybe he’s a bit very cute. Link looks up at me with mild approval of Ralph’s suggestion. Oh dear, now there’s a hunk. Whoops. I ought to shift gears. It’s one thing being surrounded by handsome men, it’s quite another to be surrounded by two good-looking guys and a swarm of eager protesters.

I stand once I get Link’s approving nod. To the assembly, and more precisely to Saria Woods, I say, “As you all surely know, it is not yet in my power to manage the lands of the country. However,” I say before any of their faces can get too depressed or angry, and before Mido Greene gets a coronary, “I am very flattered that you have chosen me to speak of your concerns regarding the environment. It is a matter that also weighs heavily on my mind, and as such, I wish to tell you that I fully endorse your project.”

I pause, for dramatic effect, and because I just realised I was speaking a tad too fast. “Rest assured that I will properly inform myself on the subject and contact you with news within the next month. If all goes well,” I add, leaving myself a door to escape, and remembering that I may want to back out of this before that.

A female journalist stands suddenly, and asks, “Does the environment matter to you, Miss Harkinian?”

I smile at her pleasantly. “It always has.”

This is a gossip columnist, most likely, since she smiles back charmingly and asks, “Even though you were kicked out of Wood Scouts because you tried syndicating your group?”

My smile kinda freezes on my face. I hear Ralph erupting in sudden laughter. I turn to Link, who looks just as surprised, though not nearly as mortified as me. He says, “I promise I haven’t said a word.”

The rest of the room looks extremely amused. I see Saria looks fascinated to hear my tale. I try to smile sheepishly, though I’m really embarrassed beyond words.

“I see there’s no keeping secrets from the press,” I joke. When the journalists shake their heads like, ‘No, so you might as well give up’, I admit, “Yes. I got kicked out of Wood Scouts because I was bit unconventional.”

“Do you still feel bitter about that?”

I pretend to look pensive. The truth is, I kind of still am. But I better not get Wood Scouts in trouble. I say, “You know, not really. It was a fun experience while it lasted. I was going through my revolutionary phase at the time, and unfortunately, I happened to be risking my spot. But I don’t blame them for kicking me out. I wasn’t exactly a pleasant cup of tea back then.”

“So, you have nothing you want to say to Wood Scouts today?” The columnist asks, looking a bit disappointed.

I laugh. “Well, I do.” I wink at Saria, who is listening to the conversation intently and with great amusement. “I hope they still teach kids how to make rope knots. I remember I used to sit in my room all day practicing them. Great stuff.”

I say this with as much humour as possible, and the room seems to lighten up.

I watch the journalists pack their things. The Youth Group seems a bit less eager to make a deadline, so they stay as much as possible, even though I can see Kotake near the door, waiting for them to get out and to clean after them. Darunia is standing beside Kotake, giving me major thumbs up across the room as he tries to keep her from mumbling her discontent too loud.

Saria comes to hand me her coordinates. She says, in a low whisper, “I don’t know if you did this for us or for yourself, but I suppose I can only say thank you. At least we got some press time.”

I take her address and phone number, and say, in all sincerity, “I really do care for the forest, Saria.” She looks pleased that I haven’t forgotten her name. I add, “I don’t know much about protecting the environment, but I do care for it.”

“Well,” Saria says with a grin, “I’m glad to see you’re capable of caring. Since you’re our spokesperson, I’m going to be rooting for you. Also,” she adds, with a secretive, teasing smile, “Any woman capable of attracting so much male attention has got to be either a good person or a complete slut. And you are definitely not the latter.”

I try to smile pleasantly. “Um… Thank you, then. I guess.” Wait. What male attention? “And, um, Link and Ralph are just there to help me. Well, Ralph is there because he wanted a good distraction, but…”

Saria laughs at my attempt to justify their presence. “It doesn’t matter why they’re there. I mean about their devotion to you. It’s truly moving.”

And, wow, I sincerely have no clue what she’s on about.

Still, when I accompany the group back out the lobby and out on the palace front grounds, Saria examines Link and Ralph critically, then comes back to whisper in my ear, “Take the blonde guy.”

I swear my face becomes beet red. She giggles then smiles at Link, whose eyebrow rises. It’s like the two come to a silent understanding, because when Saria turns back to talk to some younger protesters on the way out, Link is smiling to himself, amused. Don’t think I didn’t notice.

I’m not the only one who marked the non-verbal exchange between Link and Saria. Mido too, noted it, and he spent the rest of their walk back to the street glaring at Link over his shoulder angrily and with impossible jealousy.

“Well,” Ralph says, coming to stand by my side once they’re all gone and before I can catch Link’s eye, “that was eventful. Feel any better since saving those poor trees?”

I can’t help but smile. “Just a bit.”

“Just a bit? Now that won’t do,” Ralph tisks. “I happen to know the ultimate remedy to depression.”

His confident tone makes me smile. “Really? And what is that?”

Ralph is about to explain it to me in a serious conspiratorial tone, but Link suddenly interrupts him. Ralph looks annoyed at the constant cut-ins, and says, “What is it, oh great one? Can’t stand to let your students have fun?”

Link glares at him. “That has nothing to do with it.” To me, he says, “Now we have to get you ready for tomorrow’s trip.”

Huh? What? “What trip?”

“The trip to Minish. You’re supposed to escort Ezlo Picori, the president of Minish, and Kaepora Gaebora, our ambassador over there, back here, for symbolic purposes. They’re old men.”

Oh, I think as Ralph complains about having just arrived. Crud.