Lake had not been surprised in the least to see an amount of straw almost doubling that of the other night towering over her in the spinning room that night. Kings were like that, as kind as some of them could be. Show them a little gold and they would greedily beg for more, happily tempt fate to tilt in their favor. Lake had chalked it all up to human nature. Didn't her family do the same thing? One couldn't get much more interesting than tempting fate.

Besides, waiting for Jay to show up allowed her to practice making straw dolls. She had never bothered to make a straw doll before... doing so was entertaining plenty. Jay had laughed at them— big surprise— and only half an hour after their creation their poor little straw guts were spilled. And transferred into gleaming dead-doll images of gold.

Prince Isaac wasn't quite up to mind-reading that joke in the morning when he came to unlock her little cell of torture.

For once keeping with her story she was still awake at that point, perched upon a pile of gold with her skirt stretched all over her knees. Not exactly proper, but certainly modest for a simple country girl. And it wasn't that she had expected Isaac to show up. One of the guards... but not the bright face of Isaac. It was almost enough to send her, still giggling, down that pile.

In fact, it was, and she found herself on the floor, bits of gold caught in her hair, staring up at Isaac's very confused face.

"More to this than just wealth, is there?" he asked.

She nodded quickly and kicked dead-doll-gold from the edge of her toes. Sunlight streamed through the bars along with a sudden and renewed appreciation of what everyone else saw of the gold. "I finished early, Prince Isaac."

"So you played in the gold." He wasn't smiling. Why wasn't he smiling? Hopefully the gold was enough to impress him. Men.

"Wouldn't you?" she asked sweetly as she climbed to her feet.

With that the first twitches of a smile threw themselves at his mouth. "I must say that the idea had never occurred to me."

"A prince that dares throw balls at irritable guards has never thought of diving head-first into the pile of gold I'm sure that you must possess?"

"Ah, yes!" He sidled further into the room from the doorway, arms folded against his chest. He was wearing green today, dark and rich... Lake couldn't be sure of the material, but she did like the way it stretched over him. "The mountains of gold and jewels that carpet our treasuries."

Lake nearly choked. He wasn't kidding, was he? "Certainly you have them."

And back to the stare of bewilderment and confusion. "Of course we do. My father is hardly poor."

That was a relief. Immediately all the images of a sham monarch fled from her mind. Damn. And the imagining had been rather fantastic. "Isaac, this is a perfect moment to go dive through the mountains of gold and jewels."

Finally he laughed. "You think they're in piles?"

Well, she had seen several ways. She took a few steps toward him, smiling as seductively as she dared. "I would love to see them."

He laughed again, rolled his eyes, and slid his arms against the wall. "Miss Lake, I'm surprised at you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to steal from me."

If he really believed that, he wouldn't be saying it. She gestured back at the gold— hopefully it was sparkling all prettily for the proper affect. "After I have all of this?"

He shrugged. "That's just what I was thinking. Though it is beyond me why a girl of your apparent talents lives like you do."

"Like what?" She let the smile fade. Too much, too much. Why did Isaac have to be damn handsome? His very appearance had to be a hell-bound sin. "After all, my father is only a simple miller. We don't know how else to live."

"Hmm." His face became thoughtful, his lips scrunched together. "I guess I never thought of it that way."

"However, we do know enough to find it strange that only His Royal Majesty would show up to rescue me from a night of suffering."

"Was it really that bad?"

Considering all it had been was watching Jay cast his spells and then joining him in a straw/gold fight... She shook her head. "No. It's very easy, once you know the trick."

Isaac let out a low whistle. "I wish I knew the trick."

"I'll have to teach you sometime."

He stared at the wheel, stared at her, and shook his head. "I don't even know how to work one of those... spinny things."

She laughed and brushed her arm against his sleeve. He even smelled good. "Of course you don't, Prince Isaac."

He met her eyes and smiled. She shivered. "I'm afraid you might find that sad of me... but I've never had the opportunity to learn. But I shouldn't keep you in here all morning.

Oh. Yes. They were still standing in the doorway. "Don't you wish to examine the gold?"

"I see plenty of gold, Miss Lake, plenty to impress my father and I will let you know for your own comfort that I am impressed as well, though to be perfectly honest I don't think you really care about how much that impresses me."

She nearly choked. What exactly was that supposed to mean? She let her gaze fall just the slightest drop and gave a small cough. "I spin for you and your father the King."

"I know you do, and I am grateful." He deftly put his arm around hers, the very fashion of a gentleman, and led her outside the spinning room. Dungeon. Dungeon room better suited the imagination. "Lake, I have to tell you that I really don't care about the gold; you already heard all about the treasuries."

As long as he did not tell her he was keeping her around because he interested her. Good heavens, she couldn't think that. She laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy to be awake this morning. I was almost afraid I would have my head chopped off if there was no gold?"

Isaac burst out laughing and almost steered them into a hall corner. "Who on earth would do such a terrible thing? We have gold, I just told you!"

She bent her arm slightly, just enough to increase the touch of their arms. "Prince Isaac, you surprise me."

"Oh?"

"You would listen to the thoughts of a mere peasant girl?"

"Lake, you are hardly the average peasant girl; I've seen that much in the past few days." He nodded politely at a servant girl; wonder she didn't drop her items in a royal-aimed curtsey.

If Lake hadn't been walking, she would have curtsied. The actress inside of her was demanding it. "Really, Prince Isaac? You think so?"

"Of course you're different. You can spin gold."

"And you're not interested in gold. You barely looked at what I spent all night spinning for you!"

Isaac nearly looked offended— the briefest of smiles ruined that effect. "I'm interested in gold. In fact, I love gold."

Really. Lake hid a smile. Yes, the prince boy was intriguing, and she was itching to see what else she good dig from his skin. Would that be too much? She had already failed to get him to show her the treasury— this time around. Her father wouldn't be pleased at all, but.. She would be gone in a few days, no doubt. Prince Isaac would hardly remember her, after he recovered from the gold he claimed to love. "And what else do you love?"

Isaac's arm fell from hers as he sighed.

"You love sadness?" she asked.

He sighed again, shaking his head. "Lake, you must know all about this. You have no idea how much freedom you have."

He had to be kidding. "But we're poor. We pay you taxes."

"I know, I know!" He spun around, arms out, handsome face now on her. She stepped back, afraid. "But that's how it is and it has absolutely no bearing on what I am wondering. Out there, you all do whatever! You run around in all sorts of drama and passion and wildness and I don't even know what else."

Perhaps she had judged him wrong. She stared momentarily at the floor, torn between laughing and running back the way she came. "Um, Isaac, I don't know what exactly you've heard of the going-ons in Wheat Hill, but I can assure you it isn't nearly as fun as what you are speaking of."

He sighed a third time with enough force to drain the entire hall of air. "Lake, do you have any idea what it is like to be so wildly and deeply in love with someone that you can never really have just because of who you are?"

"Uh..." This was getting odd. Her face was growing warm, and with a nervous smile she pushed her hair away from it.

But Isaac wasn't waiting for a continuation from her. "Have you ever been in love, Lake? Have you ever had that feeling where you see someone and be around someone and they suddenly become all you can ever think about?"

"Weren't you, the other night, trying to convince me of dramatic murders?"

"Yes, that was me! But can't I be both?" He laughed, shaking his head, as all the odd energy drained from him. "Goodness, I am so sorry, Miss Lake. I don't know where that came from."

She shook her head, grinning. "Neither do I. Are you like this often?"

"Thankfully, no. Perhaps I should just shut my mouth and get you to the dining hall for some proper breakfast."

Sadly enough, now that Isaac's odd little rant was over, she missed it. "Will you have time to take me on another tour after breakfast?"

"You do remember that we have an alleged murderer on the loose?"

She couldn't let him see her face fall. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lake." He took her arm once more.

"Yes?"

"I asked you not to call me that."

"Timber, I'm hardly seeing how this man is a murderer." Mid-morning revealed Linda

Smith, caked in bread flour, crouched outside the tavern door next to a grubby Timber.

Timber nodded fervently. Oh, the determination that could appear in the passion of a child. "He is, Linda. He is! You have no idea, but I've seen him."

Well, the boy was known for his vivid imagination. Linda couldn't as much crack a smile. "Uh-huh. And you're sure of this? You've followed a murderer around the village in hopes of seeing him kill someone and managed to succeed?"

Timber coughed.

"You didn't see anything, did you?"

"That doesn't mean he isn't!"

What was sad was that the sort of logic could certainly be argued. "Did you bother telling your mother about this?"

"She won't believe. She would just make me do dishes."

"Which is exactly what you should be doing. Look in there at your poor mama. She's so busy and overworked, with so many guests!"

Timber stared up at her. "I'm not gonna fall for that lie!"

Indeed, Rina sat behind the bar with her knitting while the lone man in the black hood drank his ale. The tavern was as clean as straw.

Linda sighed. She had baking to do, and she had never been interested in Rina Wood's barn's new tenant. The man had come, didn't show around much, as Linda was happily married. She could understand what a black cape might do to a child's imagination, but frankly she didn't care. The man was an older sort, but nothing spectacular. Boring and blonde, she thought. Boring and blonde. "Timber, William Miller is back in town. Why don't you skip along up to the mill and get me a pound of flour."

"You already have flour all over you!"

Good grief.

Timber climbed to his feet, tongue lashed tightly to the side of his mouth. "Just watch. I'll get that murderer, and then you'll know!"

Pocket knife, Linda immediately thought. Pocket knife. She had better take that...

Too late. The knife was out, a foolish little sliver of metal her very own husband had give the boy as a harmless gift. "Timber!" she screamed.

But Timber brought his hand back and, before she could grab his wrist and tear his hand from it in the bloody mess that he deserved, the knife was gone, flying across the tavern room straight for Rina's tenant.

The boy had good aim. Linda had to admit he had good aim. She clenched her eyes shut, praying the boy wasn't super talented and there would be no blood.

"Wow!"

She opened one eye.

The man in black was on his feet, a friendly smile on his face. The knife sat between two fingers on his right hand. And Timber was running toward him.

"That was amazing, mister! That was amazing!"

Rina was cursing up a storm, throwing her knitting into the air and dashing out from behind the bar. "Timber! Any son of mine demonstrating such behavior..."

But the man just laughed. "You've got a good boy here, Widow Wood."

"See, Linda? See, Mama?" Timber was all but bouncing up and down with joy. "I told you he was a murderer! Only a murderer could catch a knife! Can you do that again, sir? If I threw the knife at you again?"

Rina slapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry. He isn't-"

"A murderer, eh?" The man continued laughing, long and hard, until the blond hairs of his beard faintly wiggled. "Haven't been called that one. Makes myself seem much more interesting than I am. I don't mind."

"So you are a murderer!" Timber had managed to escape his mother.

Linda just wanted to scream.

"No, I'm afraid to say that I lack that title. I am no murderer."

Timber looked disappointed. Rina attempted another apology.

But the man turned it away. "A healthy imagination is good. Now, if you excuse me, I have some business in the capital."

"You scared him away, boy," Rina hissed to Timber the moment he was gone.

Linda, grinning, caught her eye. "If that wasn't just the pinnacle of humiliation."

"You weren't the mother."

"I have my own troublemakers, thank-you."

"He's going to the capital to kill someone," Timber said brightly.

"The murderer?"

Linda sighed. Wonderful. Robert had picked that moment to walk right in. "Yes, Robert. The murderer."

"Then I must do my absolute best to follow him!" The old man gave a salute and turned right around.

Rina doubled over laughing.

Excuses, Lake thought. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Did men have nothing better than excuses, all day long? Isaac had been the only one to fetch her that morning. Wasn't that supposed to mean something? Wasn't that supposed to mean that he was pleased by her? Wasn't she pretty? Hadn't they had a fun day and night?

She was growing silly. She shoved the book from her lap, where it clattered loudly, with a cloud of dust. Old books, such a mess! Isaac, Isaac, Isaac, was there nothing else in this mindless palace to think of? A man had been murdered two nights before, and all she could think of was a mere prince she barely knew! A prince who hardly cared enough to stroll away from his measly palace duties long enough to spend a few hours with her!

Where was Jay to smack some sense into her when she needed him?

She took a deep breath and picked up the book. No idea what it was about. Greek. Or some other odd little language like that. Logical. Not like she had been that morning.

There. That was much better. Of, course, her effort that morning had been nothing more than an attempt to get into the treasury room, where she could have summoned Jay to help her carry some of the good stuff... she wasn't attracted to the Prince for riches, the Millers had plenty of riches.

Well, he was an attractive man, there was no denying that. Was it so very wrong to like someone?

This was something that had never come up before. Of course, she had the occasional suitors— simple village boys, strong and honest, and plenty of kings and nobles liked to extend the offer of marriage.

Isaac's uncontrollable love... he had been referring to her, hadn't he?

Such a mess. Such a big awkward mess. She had come into the library in hopes of keeping off of those thoughts, but they had been working to no credible avail.

With a shriek, she tossed the book against the shelf with enough force to start a small literary avalanche on the other side of the corridor shelf.

"Ah!"

She muffled her own scream. She had thought she was alone. Oh, dear, it wasn't the murderer, was it?

"What is over there?" The voice was angry and male. Suitable for a murderer. Lake froze where she was, but too late... the shadows on the floor changed and soon enough Hyrum the Bear was glaring at her, a big hand clasped on the top of his head.

She laughed. "Oh! I didn't see you, sir!"

He was not amused. "Unless you have the power to see through parchment and wood, I don't doubt it. But I don't understand the cause to attempt to kill me."

"It was an accident."

The glare hardened. "You think it was an accident to throw a book against a shelf. You knocked over four, girl. Four!" He held up the appropriate number of fingers.

She shrugged, smile growing. This was thankfully improving her mood, an unexpected little delight. "I have a confession to make. I killed that man the other night."

"I would actually believe that if I didn't happen to be your damned alibi."

"I take it you're not finding me charming."

The Bear sighed and pushed a big arm against the shelf's corner. "You're a pest of a peasant girl that throws balls, books, and spins gold. What is charming about that?"

She laughed. "So you are going to execute me for that?"

"I'm a guard. I protect the King and the Prince, whoever else wanders these halls. I have no power in execution."

She looked past him. It would have been very funny if someone had come at that time. She could made up some little joke about his failure to guard. "But you aren't guarding right now."

"I'm not on duty. I felt like reading. Is that a problem?"

Reading? Interesting. She had never thought royal guards capable of literacy. Though he had been holding a book that day with the ball. Her smile softened. "You like reading?"

"I like it. Just can't do it with books falling on me. But I've yelled at you, I think I'll go back to it." He turned the corner.

He would be fun to tease a little more, Lake decided. She didn't seem to have anything better to do. She flipped quickly around the shelf. "What book are you reading, Bear?"

The Bear, already lifting a book, froze. "What did you just call me?"

Oops. She hadn't mean that to slip out. "Hyrum? That's your name, isn't it?"

"You didn't call me Hyrum. You called me the name of a woodland creature."

"Well..." She twisted her shoulder uncomfortable— or what hopefully looked as such. "You do look like a bear."

"No, I don't."

"You do, too."

Now he looked vaguely worried. Good. "How do I look like a bear, Miss Miller?"

"No reason. I just like to give names. Some other man is the Kitten. Be glad you're not him. Unless, of course, you like kittens. But he already has that name. But we could trade."

"I'm happy with my human name." Hyrum settled into a chair at a table and began to read his book. "Why don't you go spin gold or something?"

"The King didn't give me any straw." She plopped down into the chair across from him. Maybe she could get him to look up.

And, after only two minutes, he did. Perfect.

"Why does a girl that can spin ordinary straw into gold not live in a palace herself?"

"What would I do with a palace, Hyrum?"

"I don't know; you seem happy enough in this one."

She leaned back in the chair. It wasn't particulary comfortable, but she would have to be impressed with it. "It's the first palace I've been in."

"You're not missing much." Hyrum returned to his book.

"You don't seem happy in this one."

He didn't reply.

Lake grinned. This Bear was more entertaining that she had realized. He could only be a year or so older than Jay, but he was as grumpy as her father.

"What other names have you given around?" Hyrum suddenly asked.

Names? He was back on that? "Well, there's the Canary, the Frog, the Badger..."

"Did you give any to their Majesties?" He hadn't even bothered to look up.

She gasped. "Their Majesties? That wouldn't be very proper!"

"Sometimes I think they could use them. What's Peter's?"

Peter? Oh, yes. "Peter doesn't have one yet."

"Then I shall make up one for him." And with that, Hyrum took his book and stomped from the library.

Lake stared after him, still smiling. He was almost entertaining enough to follow.