When she came out of her rooms the day before the ball, she found her brother waiting outside. Ned detached himself from the wall against which he'd been slouching, and said, "You know, I've been thinking."

She looked at him doubtfully. Undaunted, he carried on; "Neither of us can ever marry for love."

Lara looked around, up and down the corridor, and lowered her voice even though it was empty. "Surely, when they die?" though she could not quite wish it.

"The Council would still forbid the change to the law. Besides, one of us will need an heir."

"I don't want a child, and I won't ever, no matter what you all – "

He interrupted her impatiently; for it was to him that Lara had come in tears when they had first told her that naturally she must change her mind. "I know, you've said so often enough. And so I'll need one. But, look, I've got it all figured out: if I marry the woman you love and you marry Henry, then at least they'll be family, and Mother and Father won't suspect anything. And when I'm king, we can give up all the pretence."

"The Council," she reminded him, but Ned only shrugged. They turned then, and walked down the staircase, his hand along the banister. She did not bother, for he was certain to catch her were she to stumble.

"Oh, we won't be able to marry them, but it'll make little difference. Plenty of people travel and marry despite already being legally bound. You've heard about the sleeping kingdom and its princess."

"Of course I have, we tried to occupy it." But every man who had passed the border had fallen irrevocably asleep, and so the remaining soldiers had stopped and refused to march any further. "But you would still have to sleep with her."

He grimaced, "Only until a child is born."

Lara considered it, and thought that seeing someone she loved into her brother's bed would hurt. "What about Cousin Thomas?" she said, and jumped down the last few stairs.

"I can't see him ruling a country."

"No, he'd probably bankrupt everyone within a sennight, but with his," she hesitated, "lifestyle, he's bound to end up with a child eventually. At which point we can simply name them as heir and bring up in the castle and teach them to rule."

"I suppose it's better than the alternative."

She smiled, joining her arm with his as they walked.

When they were nearly by the breakfast parlour she stopped, and leaned up so that only he would hear her. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a brother-in-law," and left him there blushing.

Though it took her three extra dances and five conversations with various envoys, she eventually managed to escape from the ballroom. She stepped out onto the balcony, and only then felt she could breathe properly, only to find that, in her haste, she had trodden on a woman's gown.

But when she tried to apologise, the woman only laughed and protested that it hardly mattered. Her eyes were very blue, striking against her light hair and skin.

"I'm Lara," she said, trying not to stare, for the woman was really very pretty.

"Ella," the woman replied, but she did not curtsey. A foreigner then, no wonder Lara could not remember ever seeing her before. "Not dancing?"

"I think I've done enough," she laughed, and found herself confessing more, eager to keep Ella's attention, "I always feel like it's all just a beauty contest. Like I'm being judged by people I've never even conversed with."

"I've never noticed that. But, then," Ella added ruefully, "I don't often go to balls."

"I wish I didn't," she considered it, for most of the balls she attended were at the palace itself, "although I suppose I don't, comparatively. Still, I'd much rather read."

"I don't often get to do that either," Ella said, and looked down at the parapet where her hands lay. Her nails were painted the colour of her gown, and they shone in the growing moonlight. "I'm sorry; you must think me a terrible bore."

"Oh, it's hardly your fault. Many fathers are reluctant to let their daughters do anything except dance, and sing, and stitch clothing for the poor. I'm very lucky, I suppose, though I hardly think anyone would want anything I had sewn. Most of my creations don't really resemble any known article of clothing."

"It's a very worthy cause." Ella said, frowning slightly. "Many die from the cold otherwise." She looked up into the darkening sky. The light from the ballroom made her hair glow like pale gold. "I knew a girl once," she said quietly, "who sold matches near where I lived. Then one winter they found her in a street corner, dead from hunger and the cold."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean –"

Ella smiled slightly, but it was a sad smile, full of remembrance. "Oh, I didn't think so. But it can make a huge difference to someone's life. I try, though I don't have much to give."

"I don't have much of an allowance either," Lara agreed, "I have to ask my parents to agree to anything I want to do or spend money on. Generally they think that the state program is sufficient."

Ella looked at her closely, but there was too much in her expression to read. "It helps somewhat," she allowed, "but not those whose guardians' incomes are deemed to be over a certain limit, and there is no inquiry into whether any money or care is being provided."

"You seem to know a lot about this."

Ella flushed, "I find it interesting," she said, somewhat defensively.

"Fair enough," Lara said, trying not to shiver, for the cooling breeze had turned cold. "Shall we go inside?"

Ella acquiesced, and they walked back into the ballroom. They were separated within moments, and when Lara looked for her again, she could not find her anywhere. It should have been easy, for she was not quite sure that she would be able to fully see anyone else when Ella was in the room.

Later, when the ball was finally over and she had dismissed her maid, Lara ran her fingers through her hair, and stared at her reflection. She knew herself to be pretty in a way, but she would never be as striking as Ella.

"I would like to marry Henry," she told the image, and could not stop herself from laughing, for it was a perfectly ludicrous thing to say.

She would much rather marry a woman, one who was kind and sweet and beautiful, and who would care about her and her people, than her brother's lover. He would be kind to her whenever they were together, like he had always been, but it would never be anything more.

"I would like to marry Henry," she repeated, and the girl in the mirror tilted her chin up and smiled uncertainly. She could do this, because she loved her brother and this would make him happy. She could do this, because he would then do the same, and it was as close to the real thing that they could manage.

Lara took a deep breath, and unclenched her teeth, forced herself to appear relaxed though there was no one to see. "I would like to marry Henry," she said, and made herself smile.

Lara was late to breakfast the next morning, and found that her parents had already left. When she walked in, Ned and Henry were talking hurriedly in hushed voices.

"Morning," she said, sliding into her seat, and they both replied, but did not resume their conversation. She looked from one to the other, but Ned's face was set and Henry would not look at her. "I'm sorry, should I go?"

"No, it's fine," Ned said, but he did not smile. "Did you have a good night?"

"It was all right." Lara smiled, and reached over for the jam. "Have you ever met an Ella?"

"I'm glad," Henry said. "Someone ought to."

Ned pursed his lips. "I told you –"

Henry reached out and laid a hand on his. "I'm not blaming you," he said softly. "But you must understand, it's hard for me too."

Lara chewed, and tried to pretend that she was not there.

She leaned back against her chair to watch the festivities, as all around her bright couples talked and laughed, the skirts of the women spinning when they moved. She could see Ned, dancing patiently with one girl after another with a slight forced smile on his face, his movements determinedly precise.

"Might I trouble you for a dance, my lady?" Lara looked up to see Henry standing there, hand already outstretched.

"Of course," she said, and let him pull her up and lead her to the centre of the floor, where they swayed for a while.

"Ned told me," he said at a section in which they were closer together, lifting their joined hands. Lara twirled obediently, trying to look around without making it obvious. "I couldn't do that to you. You may yet fall in love."

"I could not marry for love," she said, "I am not that way inclined myself." And seeing his surprise, added, "Ned didn't tell you that?"

Henry shook his head, "I suppose he felt it wasn't his secret to tell." As they moved, she noticed that they were moving closer towards her brother, but she could still not see Ella.

When it was time for them to change partners, he swapped with Ned, and if she hadn't been looking for it, Lara would never have noticed that they both walked a little less than straight so that their hands brushed.

It made her smile, and Ned smiled in response, a little confused. And then they danced, and as he spun her around the ballroom Lara caught sight of Ella, and nearly stopped in surprise, so that Ned's hand tightened on her waist to pull her along.

She looked beautiful, more so in the clear light of the ballroom than of yesterday's moon, and her gown seemed to almost sparkle as she moved, as if there were stars sewn onto her dress. When she saw Lara she smiled, and Lara found herself smiling back.

"I take it your friend from yesterday is here," Ned said into her ear.

"Yes," she agreed, though she was scarcely aware what he had said, or in which direction she ought to move.

"I don't suppose I can have you for another dance?" he asked, then repeated himself. When she still did not answer, he pinched her.

Jolted out of her thoughts by the pain, she said, "Ye – No. I think you ought to subject another poor woman to your dancing."

He laughed. "There's nothing wrong with mine."

"Other there by the pillar," Lara said by way of reply, gesturing with her chin as he spun her around to see.

"That's your Henry? The blonde girl in silver?"

"I only met her yesterday!" she protested, and when Ned raised his eyebrows, admitted that she had quite liked her.

"I'll leave you over by her then," he said, and did just that. Then he bowed and kissed her hand, and walked away, just as another girl stepped into his path and smiled.

"Hello again," Lara said, trying not to blush at Ella's smile. "Still not dancing?"

"You are." Ella pointed out, "You've gotten over your dislike quickly enough."

Lara sighed, and picked up a glass from a nearby table. "It's kind of an obligation for me. You're lucky in that sense." She took a sip, and then another. Whatever it was, they ought to have it more often.

"Most women would call you lucky – to be dancing with the prince, I mean."

She frowned, "And you wouldn't?"

She did not point out the ridiculousness of the idea, for surely even a visitor would have become aware of her identity soon enough, what with the bowing that followed her throughout the ballroom just as it did her brother. Still, Lara found herself grateful that she was pretending not to, that it didn't matter to her in the slightest.

"I wouldn't really call him my type," Ella said quietly, determinedly not looking at her.

Lara stared at her. Of course, it could merely mean that Ella preferred blondes, but she could not ask, because if she were wrong –"

"Do you not dance?" she asked instead, mouth dry.

"I do, sometimes, but I've never done so in such a crowd," Ella admitted, still refusing to look at her. "And I don't know how to waltz, and someone told me that would be next."

"It is," she frowned, biting her lip in hesitation, and decided to try. "Would you like me to teach you? The basics really aren't very hard."

"Oh, would you? I don't want to be a bother."

"I'd be happy to," Lara drained the rest of her glass, and put it back. Then she took Ella's hand and walked her briskly out of the ballroom. Once out in the main corridor, she stopped, wondering.

She herself had been taught to dance in the ballroom. Her own rooms were upstairs, and rather cluttered. Finally, she walked down the corridor, found her mother's solar, and pushed the door open.

"Are you sure we should go in there?" Ella asked, behind her. When Lara turned back around, she found her companion looking anxiously in the direction from whence they had come. "It's only supposed to be a ball."

"It'll be fine. Besides, we will be dancing. Count to three," she said, shutting the door behind them.

Ella stared at her, and did. But she did not move from her place by the door. Lara sighed, took her hands, and dragged her to the middle of the room. "Step left-right-left, on the first count, then right-left-right."

"And on the third?"

"Left-right-left again." She stepped back, and watched Ella try. She did it too fast, with three steps for each count. Lara felt a wave of sympathy for her poor dancing master.

"Slower. It's just one step per number." She demonstrated. "On one, step to the left, on two, to the right, and on three, to the left again. Then the reverse on the next count."

Ella tried, tentatively. At least, Lara thought, her back was straight enough. She stepped forward, and reached out hesitantly. Her hands felt clammy, but her dress was too fine to wipe them against.

"Put your left hand on my shoulder," she said, and reached out to place hers hesitantly along Ella's waist. When the other girl did not pull away, she tightened her grip a little. It would be all that she could have.

Lara joined her remaining hand with Ella's and lifted it up. The hand on her shoulder ought to have steadied her, but she felt odd. Her skin seemed warm where Ella touched it, even though the fabric, and she felt giddy as if she ought to laugh.

"Starting step," she said, before realising that Ella could not know what she meant. "Step back with your right foot."

But Lara was so used to dancing the woman's part that she did the same. For a moment they wobbled, then fell, for their feet were too far apart for their joined hands to support them.

The carpet was softer than she had thought, but the fall was still painful. "I'm sorry."

Ella shook her head, pulling herself up to a sitting position. "I guess you've never tried to teach anyone to dance before."

Lara laughed despite herself, for generally princesses did not. "I should think that pretty obvious! Are you badly hurt?"

"I've had worse," Ella's voice was quiet. She was no longer smiling.

She opened her mouth to ask, and thought better of it. Some parents were better than others, but it was mostly boys they were rough with. Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, for Ella sighed. "It was my fault really, I daydream too much." But there was something off about her laugh.

"About what?"

Ella did not move to get up. "My father used to tell me bedtime stories when I was very young. Evidently I enjoyed them a little too much."

Lara frowned. Nobody had ever told them bedtime stories, and she could not quite imagine it, being tucked up every night by a parent, instead of a nurse cautious never to seem too familiar. "Tell me one."

Ella did not answer, and Lara was about to repeat herself when she finally said, "Once upon a time, there was a young girl whose mother died."

"Did her husband poison her?" Lara asked, who had once hid in the courtroom to hear just such a case, though she had barely understood it.

"No!" Ella cried out, and a strange expression crossed her face. "He loved his wife and daughter very much. But he was a busy man, and could not care for her as he ought. And so he remarried."

"She wasn't nice?" Lara said, getting up and walking over to her mother's cabinet, and rifling through the drawers until she found a bottle. She carried it back to the floor where they were sitting, and opened it, taking a long sip. It was sweet and warm as it went down her throat, and she drank again before offering it to her companion.

"We shouldn't." Ella protested, looking horrified. "That's theft!"

Lara shrugged. "No one will mind. I'll have my brother replace it in the morning. Come on, it's very nice."

Ella accepted it hesitantly, but took only a small sip before passing it back. "She pretended to be lovely for a while. She told the girl that she would not try to replace her mother, but would like to be a friend to her all the same. But after a short time her father died, and the stepmother changed. She took all the fine clothes from the girl and dismissed all the servants who had been loyal to the father, and made the girl her servant instead." Her eyes were wet.

As Lara watched, a few tears began to fall down her face. On an impulse, she reached out with a hand to wipe them off.

Ella's fingers curled around her wrist, and she smiled. Lara did not know which of them leaned in first but suddenly they were kissing tentatively. Ella's lips were dry, but her mouth was warm and she tasted of the wine they had briefly shared.

Somewhere far away, the clock chimed once.

Ella pulled away. "What time is it?"

"Half past," Lara said, leaning in to kiss her again. Ella let her, but only for a minute.

"Half past what?"

Lara shrugged. "Oh, eleven, I suppose. I really don't see why it matters."

But evidently it did so, for Ella leapt to her feet. "I have to go."

She was nearly at the door by the time Lara had moved. "Wait!" she called instead, and Ella stopped there.

But as she came closer, she found that she could not think of anything to say, though her hand reached out to clutch at Ella's sleeve quite automatically. "How does it end?" she said finally.

Ella looked at her for a long moment.

"I really don't know," she said finally, and walked out of the room.

Lara looked at the choice of cakes before her, and thought of Ella's girl, dead in a winter street, and felt guilty with a ferocity that surprised her.

She pushed the plate away, but her mother did not even notice.

"I would like to marry Henry," she said, forcing a smile. It was a good thing that her family did not expect her to be particularly demonstrative.

Mother wrote a few lines at the bottom of a page, before putting it aside. She looked up at Lara, and leaned forward to look very closely at her.

Lara tried not to fidget.

"At least he's a lord," Mother said finally, "and a pleasant enough man. He'll treat you well." She raised her eyebrows, and added, "Or your brother, in any case."

Lara, who had just taken a sip, spluttered and stared.

The Queen merely laughed. "You're really not as subtle as you think."

"You knew?" She put her cup back onto its saucer with a clang.

"Of course," she smiled. "Your father now owes me ten thalers. Do remind me to tell him so at dinner."

"You bet on it?" Lara asked, still in shock.

"We bet on most things. Still, I expected you to pretend for somewhat longer." She sounded almost disappointed.

"I danced with him last night." Lara protested. "And I did not do so with many."

Mother looked severely unimpressed. "I couldn't see you for half the night."

"I met a girl," she said, and smiled at the memory.

"It might be better if Edward could say that," her mother said, frowning.

"He will," Lara said, "it would be suspicious otherwise. And you said we couldn't withstand a scandal right now, what with the Council being so irritable." And she explained.

When she had finished, her mother was silent for a few moments. Finally she said, "Why, when I was a girl – no, I suppose you would not like to hear that. But what fun we used to have! It's such a terribly business-like affair nowadays, marriage."

"The whole purpose of these balls was for Ned to find a girl he liked enough to marry!"

But her mother only shook her head. "Rather to see if he might show some interest in any girl. But I suppose that was always a lost cause. Still, your plan is perfectly preposterous, Larissa."

"It's the closest we can get to marital happiness," Lara said dejectedly, taking another sip of her tea. It had gone cold.

She was surprised to see her mother's face harden, and for her to purse her lips in the way Ned always did. "I've never met more ridiculous children in my life!" she declared. "I suppose neither of you thought of consulting us before you decided on this madcap scheme?"

"Not really," Lara admitted, flushing unhappily.

She hrmphed. "And were you ever planning on revealing it?"

"No?"

She sighed. "You know, it would be just to leave you to do so. But I have always favoured mercy, and so I shall speak to your father this evening, and we shall see what we can do."

"Really?"

Mother frowned. "As King and Queen, we do have some influence. But don't get too excited just yet." She turned back to her papers.

"Thank you," Lara said, standing up, and felt a bizarre urge to hug her. She refrained, though, for her lady mother would not appreciate it.

"And replace the bottle you drank last night. I believe it was a 20 year old Tawny Port."

"Yes, Mother."

Of course, she went straight to Ned's rooms. She knocked and waited, then knocked again, to no reply.

"I know you're in there!" she called finally, banging on the door. It opened slightly, to reveal her brother shirtless with his hair dishevelled, his eyes very dark.

"I'm busy," he said, and closed the door.

Lara stared at it in frustration. "See if I tell you anything!" and flounced off to get changed.

She tucked the remaining tresses behind her ears, and examined her pinned-up hair in the mirror. The jewelled clips shone when they caught the light, but her eyes were a dull brown and her nose strangely up-turned.

Still, Ella had kissed her, Lara reminded herself, and could not stop the giddy smile that caused. But there was something that had seemed a bit odd about the woman, though she still could not understand what.

It was probably nothing; just the peculiarity of her not being able to waltz, unlike most noblewomen. Still, it nagged at her.

She thought of Ella's story, of the poor girl she had known, and the knowledge of the conditions of the poor relief program, and tried to match it to the picture of a noblewoman.

Lara supposed she could have been a particularly philanthropic one, or perhaps barely rich enough to attend the ball. But her gowns had been too fine for that.

She thought of Ella's tears, and the way her voice had shaken.

Surely she couldn't have been talking about her own family, for how would she have come to the ball at all. She desperately wanted to ask, but there was no one to address.

She opened her jewellery box, and took out a pair of earrings. The stones in the middle were almost the colour of Ella's eyes.

"Was it you?" she blurted as soon as she saw Ella, and regretted it when those fine eyes lost most of their spark.

She didn't ask, just inclined her head. Today, her dress was as gold as her hair, turning her into a fluid gold statue. It was more than a little distracting.

There were several questions Lara wanted to ask, including what had happened next, as if it were only a story, and why Ella was here at all, but she settled for, "How?"

"A woman showed up, calling herself my fairy godmother, and conjured me clothes and a carriage."

Lara was impressed despite herself. While fairy godmothers were not unheard of, they were extremely rare. Her grandmother had had one, but she had never met her, nor anyone else who had one. Therefore she knew only a bit about them, except that her mother had laughed when she had asked whether it was a bit like having a servant.

But: "You didn't have clothes?" She tried not to picture it, certain that it would show on her face, but Ella flushed all the same.

"I had my work clothes," she protested, "but nothing for a ball. But it doesn't matter, she was wrong anyway."

"In what way?"

"She said I must marry the prince; that we would fall in love with each other. Clearly, that hasn't happened. I haven't even met him." She did not sound particularly regretful, but Lara still felt a momentary surge of anger at the thought of Ned being considered surety by people he had never met.

But it wasn't Ella's fault, and Lara was not quite sure she could have a fairy godmother imprisoned. "You've met his sister the princess though," she pointed out instead, and smiled.

But Ella's face was blank, and she was silent. After a moment, Lara asked, "You really didn't know?" because it made no sense. Everybody knew. Everybody had always known.

"Know what?"

But Ella hadn't curtseyed the first time they had spoken, and had talked to her like to anyone else. Lara laughed, and curtseyed herself. "May I introduce," she said, gesturing to herself, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Larissa. Only, don't call me that! Only heralds and officials do." She frowned, "And my parents, sometimes."

Ella stared at her, and opened and closed her mouth a few times. Finally, she said, "What?"

"I really thought you knew," Lara said, feeling a bit sheepish.

"What indication have I ever given of it?"

"Everyone knows!" she insisted, but Ella ignored her.

"Oh, I said most women would be glad to dance with the prince, but I never knew you were his sister. I thought you – I told you I thought to marry him! You must think me such an idiot." She was not smiling anymore; her mouth was taunt, and her face pale.

Lara felt a bizarre urge to laugh. "Hardly. Most of the women here think to marry him still."

"And I kissed you as well…" she trailed off weakly, and bit her lip, then spoke with surprising anger. "Please don't tell me what you think of me now, Your Highness. I can well imagine." Ella curtseyed, a little too deeply for someone who had danced with and kissed a princess. "Perhaps you think it fun, to taunt a girl for having deigned to come into your presence when usually she has to clean and laundry and separate lentils from ashes, and to let her think that – I am deeply sorry to have caused offence. I will leave immediately."

"Wait!" Lara reached out for her, but Ella was already moving away, running down the corridor and down the outside stairs. Partway down she tripped, and lost her shoe, but she did not stop, only ran on.

Lara could do nothing but watch her grow smaller and disappear as she stood in the empty corridor alone, the sounds of the ball seeming very far away. She was not quite sure she could stand to go in there and watch other people be happy and in love, and have to dance and smile as if nothing had happened.

Her eyes stung, but she would not let herself cry, not like this, in public where anyone could see her. She did not hear footsteps behind her, and only turned when she felt an arm around her shoulders and felt herself being pulled tight against a man's chest.

For a minute she thought it was Ned, but it did not smell like him, and then she looked up to see Henry's face, not much happier than her own.

He did not say that it would all be all right, like most people would have done, and she found that she was glad of his presence, even though the tears came flooding down her cheeks and onto his doublet.

"I'm sorry to ruin your clothes," she said eventually, when she had calmed down a bit.

"It's quite all right," he said, reaching out with a hand to wipe her tears. It made Lara remember when she had done the same the night before, and it made her cry harder, for his fingers were calloused and Ella was gone. "Anything for Ned's little sister."

"Could you not stand it either?" she asked eventually, to distract him.

Henry sighed, and looked away. "It hurts to watch it," he said. "I'm not sure how I'll stand to see him marry, to pledge his life and his love to someone else, even if it'll be just pretence."

"You might not have to. Mother found out," said Lara listlessly, and his eyes flew back to her face. "She said she'd try."

The cautious happiness in his face was almost painful to see.

Another man might have made a joke of it, that she regretted not being able to marry him. All he said was, "You don't seem happy."

"I am," she insisted, because she knew that Ned would be. And she shivered, for the door was still open and the night was cold. And seeing the doubtful look on his face, something in her snapped, and Lara found herself telling him everything, down to the shoe left outside.

When she had done so, he walked briskly forwards towards the door, and down the stairs. In the moonlight, she could only see his outline, darker than his surroundings and bobbing down. For a minute he disappeared from her sight, but then he resurfaced, and soon came back indoors, closing the doors behind him. In his hand was a gold slipper.

"Presumably we can locate her with this," he said, holding it up.

"I don't think she would want me to."

"Don't you even want to know who she really is?"

Lara considered it, "I think that might hurt more." But she remembered of Ella's story, and wondered whether anywhere else might be a great improvement. "But I would like to help her all the same. But I don't think she would want my pity."

Henry looked at her closely, "It would not be all pity."

She looked away, so that he would not see her face, fearing that he would not understand, or worse, that he would understand all too well. "All the same, I don't much fancy being a knight in shining armour. There's something terribly entitled to them, the way those stories always turn out."

"But they end up living happily ever after."

"That's not real," she said, turning away. "Still, I suppose I would rather she knew it wasn't a cruel joke."

The messengers throughout the kingdom proclaimed that it was for the prince's sake that they needed to find this woman who had lost her golden slipper. They said that she was tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, yet most of the women who arrived at the palace in the following days were none of those things.

Lara stood by her brother's side in the throne room, and felt like screaming.

"You knew that she wouldn't come," Ned murmured out of the corner of his mouth, straightening, as yet another disappointed damsel was escorted away.

She did not respond.

"She's only one girl," he tried, "there will be plenty more."

"And if it was Henry?"

"That's not the same," Ned protested. "You only just met her."

"You were exactly the same," she said, and so he gave up, and fell silent. After a while, he said, "Isn't she in the court records?"

Lara shook her head. "I haven't checked, but she wouldn't be. She's not a noblewoman, at least not anymore."

"Anymore?" he asked, looking puzzled, and so she told him.

But Ned only shrugged. "Her father would still be, though. Do you know her last name?"

"No," Lara said miserably, then brightened. "But I might not need to. He'd be a widower who died not too long ago, leaving a daughter. His second marriage must have been relatively recent, to a woman who already had two children. Surely there can't be too many men like that?"

There weren't. In fact, there was only one.

Lara traced the ink on the page with a finger, and stared down at the listed address until the archiver's pointed coughs grew steadily more impatient. Then she gave the book back, and called for a carriage.

Once the door to the Tremaines' house had been opened by her pages, Lara walked straight in. Halfway up the stairs was a tall woman, her dark hair immaculately pinned on top of her head, and next to her was a blonde servant girl, who was speaking too quietly for Lara to hear.

Lara stopped short, for there was something familiar about that hair. When the girl caught her eye, she turned pale and silent. The woman turned around to look at the cause with an annoyed expression. On seeing Lara, her face changed, thin lips stretching into a smile, and she rushed down the stairs.

"Oh, Your Highness, it is such an honour!" she cried, curtseying. "Whatever have we done to deserve such attention?"

"I wish to speak to Ella Tremaine," Lara said, and watched the woman reel back in shock.

"Surely Your Highness is mistaken?" she offered. "My daughters' names are Anastasia and Drusilla. I am sure it is one of them you have met."

"And I am sure that it was not, though I thank you for your consideration," she gritted out. When Ella's Stepmother – for that was who she had to be – still did not move, she raised her eyebrows. "I will not be gainsaid."

"Of course, Your Highness, but she is not," she hesitated, and waved a hand to indicate Ella, still standing on the stairs, "dressed to befit a royal audience."

She bit her lip on whose fault is that? "We are not at the palace," she said finally, turning back to the Stepmother, and when the woman looked as if she would try again, added, "I insist."

The woman had no choice but to acquiesce, and before long they were seated in a small parlour. She appeared extremely reluctant to leave them alone, but was eventually forced to upon Lara's increasingly pointed looks towards the door.

"I'll leave if you want me to," Lara said anxiously once the door had shut behind her. "But you have to know I liked – I like – you; and that I meant no harm." But she could not look away from the frayed edges of Ella's apron, grey with age and fringed with soot.

Ella saw, and drew herself up to sit even straighter on the chair, looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "You can hardly deny you feel scorn for me, now that you know."

"I don't!"

The look on Ella's face was nothing short of sceptical. "Pity, then, which is not much better."

Lara could not deny it, and said so. "But it's not just that. I liked you before I knew anything about that."

Ella flushed, looking down at her lap, and did not answer for a long time. When at last she looked up, she said, "That hardly matters; we live in such different worlds."

"That hardly matters," Lara repeated. "Besides, you are a noblewoman." And when Ella indicated her clothing with a sceptical expression, she added, "Don't you want your property back?"

The blankness of Ella's face was a surprise. "She's had it for so long that it must belong to her now."

"If you get a good lawyer –"

Ella laughed dryly, humourlessly. "We don't all live in your world, Your Highness."

"I told you to call me Lara. Look, the inheritance laws are," simple, she wanted to say, but she didn't think that would go over well, "relatively uncomplicated. Unless there's an explicit testament to the contrary, the child always inherits. And you said your father loved you."

The sudden flare of hopeful longing in Ella's face made her heart skip a beat. But then it was gone, and Ella was shaking her head.

"He was so ill, by the end. Who knows what she may have had him sign?" she said, glancing anxiously in the direction of the door. "Besides, I could not afford –" Ella flushed with shame, "lawyers would want to be paid with more than just the promise of a share of the uncertain winnings. And once she found out, I wouldn't even have anywhere to live. Truly, it could be far worse, and besides, I'm used to it."

"I could help. You could live at the palace," she said, and blushed when she contemplated the implications.

"I don't want your pity," Ella insisted, but her voice wavered.

Lara reached out to cover Ella's hand with her own. "Think of it as a loan," she said.

Ella looked down at their hands, and frowned. "You couldn't explain it without making so many others show up, and you couldn't help them all. People would talk." She seemed quite surprised when Lara smiled, and patted her hand.

"I have a plan," she said, before amending, "or rather, my brother has."