Chapter 1:

The boy stared at the bread, his mouth watering and his stomach clenching in painful emptiness. He hadn't eaten in two days and the smell was making him lightheaded. It was hearty bread, filled with raisins and dates, wafting its delicious scent out of the baker's window. His fingers itched for it. The boy took a nervous glance around. The baker's wife had moved away to help a customer in the next window, leaving the bread to cool on its own. In a moment of desperate foolishness, the boy grabbed the loaf and stuffed it under his shirt, ignoring the burning on his stomach. A few welts were well worth this prize.

But he didn't even make it ten steps down the alleyway. Unbeknownst to the hungry boy, the baker had seen his move. The boy gave a strangled yell as his tattered shirt collar was wrenched backwards. In his surprise, the boy stumbled and his prize fell from his shirt to the muddy street.

"Thief!" the baker yelled, "You filthy rat! That bread is ruined, you little street scum, I will kill you for that!"

The boy let out a strangled yell as he was hit across the face by the baker's massive hand. The sting was made worse by the biting cold of the morning. Another hit came and he felt his lip split open. The hand moved around his throat and clenched tight. The boy gasped for breath, but none came. What a poor way to go, he thought bitterly, but it had to come sometime. Black spots appeared in his vision as he continued to gasp for life. In the moments before unconsciousness reached him, he heard the most beautiful voice.

"Stop this instant!"

The hand around his neck loosened and the boy dropped to the muddy street, wheezing and drawing burning breaths through his damaged lungs.

"But my Lady, he is a thief. He must be punished for his actions or he will not learn."

"Look at him! He's starving. How would killing him teach a lesson?"

The voice was lovely, lilting and musical in its temper. Still gasping, the boy looked up to see a vision before him. His first thought was that she resembled a small angel. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen, long spiraling chocolate hair running down her back and milky white skin, flushed in a rosy pink on her cheeks. She must have been even younger than the boy, hardly ten summers, and yet she had on the finest of dresses, silk and beaded with what were surely jewels. Living in the slums, the boy had never seen such finery up close before, merely from afar when the king and his court would make procession through the streets.

"Let him alone, he is barely holding on as it is! You will release him." The boy was shocked by how easily she doled out commands to a man three times her age and size, but she spoke with the eloquence and maturity of someone much older and there was a fierce stubbornness in her face that said she expected to be obeyed.

The boy looked up to the baker, who was eyeing the girl with wariness. "I cannot just let this rat go without punishment, my Lady. My wares have been ruined."

The girl marched forward, pulling a bracelet off of her hand as she went. "This will cover the cost. Now release him to me."

The baker eyed the jeweled bracelet with greedy wonder and snatched it from her hand as soon as it was in reach. "The Lady is too kind. Blessings upon you and your household." And with that, he rushed off to stash his prize before the young girl could change her mind.

The boy, rubbing his injured neck, watched the man go and could not believe this turn of events. He had been minutes away from sure death and now he was saved by a fiery little angel.

The girl approached him, the hard look gone from her face. Now she looked the innocent child of her age as she offered the boy her hand up. He hesitated, not wanting to taint her pearly, delicate skin with his muddy hand, but she reached forward and took it anyways. Standing up, he was a head taller than her, looking down on her lovely face.

"Are you well?" she asked. He swallowed hard and nodded, unsure how to act towards an angel. He had never spoken to nobility before, never touched them for that matter. With that thought, the boy jerked his hand out of hers and bowed, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting to do so.

"Please don't," she whispered and he straightened again. She smiled up at him, and he felt a tightening in his chest at her innocent beauty. "I've seen you before," she said, "You work at the mill, don't you?"

The boy felt a thrill of happiness that this beautiful girl had ever noticed him, but then, remembering, he looked down in shame and muttered, "I used to, my Lady." Before his fight with Peter which led to his dismissal. Now he roamed the streets looking for scraps to survive on.

"Please, call me Bella. And what is your name?"

But before he could work up the nerve to speak his name, a man from beyond the alley shouted, "Marie!" The girl jumped and turned to see a finely dressed man walk past the alleys opening, searching for someone, and walk out of sight.

She turned back and said quickly, "I must leave. But here," and she took the boys hand and in it, placed a silver ring with a large ruby.

The boy gaped at the ring and tried to thrust it back. "I cannot accept this, my Lady."

"It's Bella. And I want you to have it. Please," she spoke the last word in such a sweet whisper, that the boy allowed her to close his fingers around the ring. He stared down at her, trying to memorize her face so that he could think of her always. She smiled at him with warmth. He couldn't remember the last time someone had given him such a smile.

"Marie!"

She jumped again and before the boy could react, she pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed his dirty cheek.

"Bye!" she called and ran down the alley into the nobleman's arms. He scooped her up and held her tightly, chastising her for disappearing.

"Sorry, Papa. I got lost," she told him in a sweet voice. He kissed her forehead and put her down, holding her hand as they walked away. She turned and waved at the boy before she disappeared around the corner.

The boy didn't move, in fact he stood in the same spot for several more minutes, clutching her ring tightly in his fist. So low, that no one would be able to hear, he whispered the name of the angel he had just met to the bitter wind.

"Bella."