A few minutes later I was approached by Ariana. She looked worried. "Are you asking for a death sentence?!" Her tone was as worried as her facial expression.

"Ariana, all is well." I tried to reassure her. "I don't think he ever planned on executing me anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ariana crossed her arms.

I answered her, "He wouldn't let me leave with my sword unless I agreed to share a meal and accompany him to a ball!"

Her eyes widened. "You said yes?!"

"What else could I say?! I need to get back to my stepmother and finish my work before the ball—wait—they're coming to the ball! Oh, what have I done?!" I ended up murmuring.

"Your stepmother is now the least of your problems!" Ariana said, pulling me by the arm down the hall. "You agreed to allow the prince of our nation to escort you to the ball of the decade—"

"But why is that such a major problem?" I asked. She opened a door and nodded for me to follow her.

"This ball marks the prince's twenty-first birthday! At this ceremony, he will choose his bride!" Ariana exclaimed frantically. "And by agreeing to accompany him you might have already accepted his hand in marriage!"

That's ridiculous!" I scoffed, biting my lip. "The King would never allow Henri to marry someone like me—a servant. It's not possible."

"It's not his choice." Ariana answered. "The prince gets to choose someone of his own picking on the night of his twenty-first birthday, or his father will choose for him the day after."

"That doesn't mean he'll pick me, does it?"

"Madame—"

"Ella. My name is Ella." I interrupted. I realized I was just as bad as Henri. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Ella," The name foreign on her lips, "I fear he already has picked you."

I paused, thinking, "What does that mean for me?"

"It means you probably won't be leaving this castle for a very long time." Ariana said quietly.

"Oh, God," I murmured, starting to pace the floor of the carpeted room. It was a full-fledged seamstress's escape. How I wished I could work in a space like this. But back to more pressing matters. "My stepmother is going to kill me."

"Why would she do that? Wouldn't she be overjoyed that her kin is to be the next queen of this country? Most women would be ecstatic." Ariana had a point, but she didn't get it.

"Don't you understand?!" I cried. "I am not a woman of the upper class! I work as a maid for the people of court. I am not a part of it!"

"Then your stepmother should have no problem with you rising through the ranks, now should she?" Ariana fretted.

"You don't get it!" I shrieked. "My stepmother is the woman I am working for!"

I had shocked Ariana into silence. I decided I might as well tell her the rest of it. So I said quietly, sinking into a chair, "If she found out that I had caught the eye of the prince, instead of one of her daughters, she would have my head."

Ariana didn't speak for a moment. "Why?" She asked.

I replied, "Because she hates me…I don't know what I did to cause it, what crime I had committed against her. But now I am a servant in my own home. It is all I know."

I bent over, my elbows landing on my knees and my face in my hands. Ariana had taken a seat next to me. She swallowed then said, "Why are you so afraid of her? You face armed men head on, and do not flinch. Yet, you are terrified of this woman. Why?"

I brought my head up and met her eyes, "Because she took the only happiness I had left, and crushed it under her polished slipper."

What was I going to do? There was hardly a chance to escape from this place, and even then, I didn't know where my sword was. I couldn't leave the last remnant of my father that I had left! What was I to do? I needed to think! My mind just wasn't working.

"Ariana, I need advice, what should I do?" I asked, praying to God that she would have some inkling of a way to help me.

"You're just going to have to get ready and have lunch with him." Ariana said resolutely. I didn't say anything as she made me strip behind a screen and slip into the nicest undergarments I had ever worn. Then the nightmare came. Ariana made me put on an already tight under corset. Then I had to hold onto a bar nailed into the wall while she laced me up.

"Suck your stomach in!" Ariana ordered.

"Why, for God's sake, is this necessary?" I sighed, out of breath from trying to follow out her commands.

"To make your waist look smaller!" Ariana grunted and cinched me tighter. I cried out.

"Why would I care that my waist looks smaller?" I muttered.

"You've never worn one of these before, have you?" Ariana asked, finally tying the laces together.

"Definitely not. This isn't practical for work. I can hardly breath. No wonder ladies faint when excited." I exhaled, glad that she was done. I was next put into a pale blue tea dress. It clung to my arms and waist, nothing like my old clothes. My hair was styled with braid and curls up done with pins. Just as Ariana was about to apply the regular creams and rouge to my face I stopped her.

"Oh, no." I said. "This is where I draw the line. I will not be caked in make-up."

"Thank God." Ariana put the make-up away. "The cosmetics that ladies wear these days cannot be healthy."

"I agree." I said quietly.

"Well, all you need now is shoes." Ariana smiled. "Come with me!"

Ariana opened a door that lead to a closet filled to the brim with shoes. I turned in a small circle and laughed. I had never seen such an excess of useless things. There was no way someone could ever wear all of these shoes! Whoever made them, however, had put in a lot of work. I peered around at each of the pairs. Some had hand sewn sequins on them and amazing beadwork.

"This is amazing." I said.

"I had the dress sent out from one of the seamstresses in town." Ariana replied. "We don't have a live-in seamstress for dresses and such, there wasn't a need when the Queen died. However, we do have a cobbler. He is required to make the King and Prince's shoes, but women's fashion is his hobby. I asked and he said that you can pick whichever you like."

"How could I ever choose?" I wondered.

"I'll ask him if he could get your measurements after lunch so he can make special slippers for the ball tomorrow." Ariana declared.

"Oh—he doesn't need to do that! I'm sure we could find something in here that will work." I tried to convince her.

"He won't listen once he knows that you are going to the ball." Ariana responded. "Now go on! Choose."

I sighed, my breath already short from the corset. Then my eyes landed on a pair of white slippers. They were soft on the inside when I touched them. The jewel on top of it glittered beautifully. These ones. These were the shoes I was going to wear.

White shoes. I had never even considered the idea of that before. In my line of work white shoes would never be worn because, well, they would be trashed after an hour's work around the manor. But now, now I could wear them freely. It was only lunch after all, right? What harm could that do?

If I was to be spending time at the castle, I might as well enjoy it. If the prince did indeed want to marry me, I would just have to, umm, reject him kindly. And then what? I would run, far, far away. Go back to the manor at first, probably, then travel my way to another city and perhaps work in a fashion house. Yes. That was a good plan.

I put on the slippers and stepped back so Ariana could look at all of me.

"How do I look?" I asked.

"Lovely." She decided. "Yes, quite lovely indeed. I say, the prince might ask for your hand as soon as he sees you!"

I blushed. "Don't say such a thing!"

"Look," Ariana said. "I know you don't want to stay here, but just consider it. Honestly, could it really be that bad? Living in the palace after a life servitude?"

I considered it. Sure, it could definitely be worse. "I understand, Ariana, but once my stepmother finds out she would ruin it. She practically owns me! My life is not my own."

"Yes, it is!" Ariana protested. "It is your decision though, so what do you really want?"

I answered, "I want to get away from it all. I want to move away and design clothes." I became lost in my own world. "God blessed me with the gift of being able to sew and create. That's what I really want to do. Not become a part court, with their frivolous ideas about class."

Ariana nodded, looking outside the window. "Just consider it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, you're ready." Ariana nodded towards the door. "I don't know where you will be eating, so I'll take you to the main hall."

I took a deep breath before we came out of the room. "Alright."

Ariana and I were strangely quiet during the walk. I could tell she didn't approve of me wanting to run away from a life of assured luxury. I could understand that. But I also didn't want a life in constant view and criticism.

Ariana left me standing in an extravagant hall full of monarchy portraits. I admired them quietly, listening sharply for any noise, so I would know when someone had come into the room. I shivered, the cold marble seemed too decadent to even walk on. It made me uncomfortable, really. I wasn't used to being exposed to this kid of wealth. I slept on the floor next to a fire and woke up with ash on my face, for goodness sake!

My nerves were so on edge that when someone entered the hall I whirled my head around to see who it was. Henri. He hadn't changed like I had. For some reason, he didn't reply right away when I greeted him.

"Hello." I said. No response. I cleared my throat and spoke louder, "Hello?"

That jarred him out of his reverie. He blushed at not paying attention and crossed the hall in a few steps before he was standing directly in front of me. Henri glanced up at the painting I had been looking at.

"What do you think of it?" He asked. It was of him, of course. It had caught my attention quickly because it was one of the biggest in the room.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't know." I replied courteously. "I'm not much of an expert in paintings."

"I hate myself in portraits." Henri commented, frowning.

"No one's ever painted my portrait, so I wouldn't know." I told him, still looking at the painting.

"They should." Henri watched me and I met his eyes. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. His hair was a slightly darker shade of blond than mine. I studied his green eyes, but ended up blushing and glancing down at my feet.

"Well, shall we?" He asked, holding out his arm to me. Hesitantly I placed my hand in the crook of his arm. It seemed to fit perfectly there, and warmth blossomed in my chest. I glanced up and studied him, wondering if he was feeling the same as I was. I swallowed nervously and we began to walk.

Henri led me into a parlor with a nice table set up next to a window. He pulled out my chair for me and I sat down. This was so strange, being treated so nicely. Such manners hadn't been wasted on me in my younger years, so my stepmother said.

I stared out the grand window. I hadn't put much thought into my stepmother. Why had she been so cruel to me throughout the years? I would probably never find out. Henri cleared his throat, drawing me from my thoughts.

"I'm sorry! Did you say something?" I asked.

"Yes, I asked if you liked the view." Henri smiled and I blushed again. Why did he make me blush, for heaven's sake?! Was this normal for other girls? I hadn't had much contact with men other than my father and Markus. I looked out the window once more, this time really looking at the scenery.

It was beautiful, overlooking one of the many gardens. I recognized it though, only too well. Outside the glass, I saw the window I had been pushed out of. My hands trembled slightly as I folded them in my lap.

"Yes, it's quite breathtaking." I got out. And it was.

"You don't sound like it's breathtaking to you." Henri noticed. I was quick to reassure him.

"Oh, it really is quite lovely!" I said. "But unfortunately, it is marred by a bad memory, I'm afraid."

"Why is that?" Henri asked curiously. He rang a bell carelessly, still focused completely on me, and a maid scurried in. Just a few days ago, I was doing that job. He nodded to her and she rushed off, presumably to get food.

"Well," I started, not minding telling him. "When I was seven years old I was pushed out one of those windows." I nodded in the direction and Henri looked at it then back to me quickly. He was definitely intrigued now. I suddenly realized what this conversation could lead to: him interrogating me more in a way that I couldn't help but answer.

"However did you manage to survive?" He asked.

"With help." I answered. "I wasn't strong enough then to pull myself up. But—"

I faltered, remembering the boy. He looked so concentrated on saving me. When he had pulled me over the edge he said that he was my hero and one day we could get married. I had happily agreed, it was only fair, my little mind thought. I continued, "But a boy came, having heard my cries for help, and he pulled me up."

I smiled at the memory. I wondered where the boy was now, and if he remembered his marriage proposal. It seemed so silly now, yet those few moments were good.

"I know that story sounds absurd—" I said.

"Not really." Henri mumbled, suddenly lost in thought. Before I could ask what was bothering him there came a knock at the door. Henri called, "Enter."

The maid earlier came in, holding a tray of steaming food perfectly level. After placing our meal on the table, she asked, "Will that be all, Your Highness?"

"No, this should suffice. Thank you very much." Henri excused her. We began to eat, then all of a sudden Henri said, "You look beautiful, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner."

I shivered and blushed at his words. Now why did he have to go and say that? Now I was actually starting to like him! This was not going to make things easier when I needed to leave tomorrow.

But he was just so kind and caring and—oh goodness! I was really attracted to him wasn't I? I tried to convince myself otherwise. I mean, he was one of the few men I had met. Perhaps this was how boys my age acted around everyone? Perhaps not.

"Thank you." I managed to say.

"Do you realize that you blush a lot?" He asked with a smile on his face. My face only went more crimson at his words. I tried to make up an excuse, but ended up saying something totally different than I had meant to say. Unfortunately, it was the truth.

"No one's ever called me pretty before I met you." I said. "No one's been as kind to me as you have, really."

The man sitting before me looked affronted. Was that not what I was supposed to say?

"What?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, have I said something wrong?" I asked back. "If I have I—"

"No!" Henri interrupted and I fell quiet. "Do you mean to tell me that no one has ever told you that you are beautiful?!"

He was strangely offended by what I had said. I didn't meet his eyes until he said, "Hey—"

"No." I replied. "No one has." I sighed, almost laughing. "I can't believe I just told you that. Actually, I can't believe I've told you so much already."

Henri smiled. "And yet you won't tell me your name?"

My eyebrows shot up, remembering that I hadn't, indeed, told him.

"It's Ella." I told him. "Sorry for not mentioning it earlier."

"You should stop apologizing." Henri responded. "Ella."

I liked the way my name rolled off of his tongue. I said, "Henri."

Unexpectedly, Henri's face lit up. "You said my name!"

He clearly remembered me refusing to address him by his given name. I laughed, "I know! I did it earlier, too!"

"You did?" He asked. "How did I miss it?!"

"You were a bit preoccupied trying to discover all of my secrets." I jested.

"I was, wasn't I? I hope you'll forgive me for that. I—" He was cut off by the doors to the room being slammed open. I gasped as the tall man approached the table, glaring down at me as if I was a disgrace. I probably was. His appearance was top notch—you could definitely say that. Then I realized why. This was the King!

I stood up quickly and curtsied as best I could, keeping my head down. The breath had run from my body. What was to happen to me? I had just been eating a meal casually with his son—unsupervised—for that matter.

"Get up, silly girl." The King ordered. I didn't dare meet his eyes as I rose to my feet. That was a mistake, evidently. "Look at me." He ordered.

I did. My blue eyes met his steely, cold grey eyes. A flash of anger surprisingly ran through me. I didn't like always being treated as inferior. But I was at the bottom of the "food chain" so to say and had been born a woman. Therefore, I was treated as inferior from birth, at least by most men.

I pursed my lips and didn't say anything.

"Are you the girl who wielded the sword?" The King asked.

My mind flashed back to that night, and subconsciously I brushed my hand over my leg where I had been injured. I nodded, saying, "Yes, sire."

"Where did you learn to fight?" He questioned, intrigued.

"My father taught me, Your Majesty." I answered.

"And where did your father learn?" the King inquired. I took a deep breath. This was not going to end well, I could already tell.

"The Academy." I said. The Academy was where all the knights were taught to fight.

"Really?" He replied, his tone challenging what I had to say. I didn't back down though. The King went on. "What was his name?"

I licked my lips, knowing that I had a choice to make. I could either tell him who my father was, and receive the rage from my stepmother later. Or I could refuse and bear the rage of the King. Would he punish me for refusing to answer? He wouldn't hurt me, would he?

I decided to take my chances with the King. I didn't know him or his manners. I did, however, know Stepmother's. She knew exactly how to hurt me. If I kept my secrets to myself here, I was safer, for sure.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I cannot disclose that information." I held my breath as the King clenched his jaw. He wasn't pleased. I held firm, unwavering.

"You cannot? Or you will not?" He asked.

I answered quickly, "Will not."

Henri interrupted the cross-examination, "Ella, tell him. You must."

"No, Your Highness." I went back to calling him properly. "I mustn't—"

"Young lady! I am your king! Answer me!" His voice grew louder and I shivered. "Who is your father?"

"I won't tell you, so yelling at me is futile!" I remained calm as the King, my ruler, became angrier.

"ANSWER ME!" He shouted. "Or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" I reprimanded him, forgetting suddenly that I was below him. I forgot everything, really. My mind just slipped into a fuming tone. I went on, "There is nothing you can do to me that I haven't already experienced!"

The two men were silent.

"You've been hit before, then?" The King asked. Henri looked horrified. I glanced up at the King, crossed my arms over my chest and stood tall. Then I answered.

"Child's play."

I didn't watch his reaction. I just turned my head and looked out the window.

"Ella?" Henri asked hesitantly. "Who has hurt you? Was it your father?

"Of course not!" I defended, turning to face him. "My father was the best man I have ever known!"

"Then who was it?"

Who was it indeed. I wish I could make them understand that there was no way I would tell them. Henri came around the table then grasped my arms gently, making me look up at him.

"Whoever it is—They can't hurt you here. I won't let them." Henri reassured me. The King scoffed, but I ignored him. Henri ran a hand over the scab on my face. I closed my eyes so he wouldn't know how close I was to crying. My stepmother was able to hurt me for so long. Could Henri truly protect me from her?

"It—It was my stepmother."