Somewhere for me.

"How many times must I apologize until you are satisfied?"'

Sage snorted at Christopher.

"Look, I've brought these as a peace-offering," the prince held up a fistful of carrots he had snagged from the palace kitchens.

The mare snorted again.

"I know you are accustomed to the pampered life, Sage, but this is as fine an establishment as any. Liam is quite the little groom, as I'm sure you'd agree.

Sage moodily munched the peace-keeping vegetables, completely ignoring her master.

"Ever so ungrateful..."

"I like horses too," Liam cut in, "but even I don't carry out conversations like.. like they're people."

Christopher tuned to the boy, "Is it truly so unusual?"

Liam nodded vigorously.

"Well, I don't think so," grumbled the prince, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you going to take your horse now?" Liam asked as he sat upon a bale of hay, with his feet dangling several inches above the dirt floor.

"No, I have a hankering to amble about town again today. I'll return for Sage later, I promise," he loudly directed at the mare.

Sage snorted once more. Shaking his head with a sigh, Christopher fished for a coin to pay Liam, but the boy refused.

"For the price of that gold coin you gave me yesterday, Sage is welcome at Openmoor anytime."

"I insist, Liam..."

"I am no cheat, sir. The Destry's run an honest business, and you've paid enough rent for six months at least."

"All right," Christopher grinned, "I respect that. You can expect me back..."

"Sometime before closing," finished the pint-sized proprietor.

The prince laughed heartily and patted the boy's shoulders, "Good man, Liam. You know me so well already. I'll leave you to your grooming."

As Christopher turned to leave, a large, cantankerous looking fellow entered the stables pulling along a tall, black horse. The prince had not seen his little friend conduct business with any other customer, so he lingered from sheer curiosity.

"Good day, sir," Liam began cheerily.

However, it appeared that this man, Christopher could only describe as bear-like, was in no mood for pleasantries.

"My horse needs a stall for a day," the man curmudgeonly demanded, looking directly at Christopher.

"And why are you telling me this, exactly?"

"Ain't you the head groom?"

"I'm afraid not," Christopher explained, "young Mr. Destry heads this establishment."

The man looked at Liam incredulously, and snorted, not unlike Sage had earlier.

"That little thing?" scoffed the man, his snout like features adopting a half-snarl, "I'll give you one copper for the stall."

The man flipped a copper coin through the air towards Liam, and Christopher could feel his blood begin to boil. Why did this fool feel entitled to set the price of a rented stall. He hadn't even bothered to inquire first. Liam did marvelous work with horses - worth many more times than a measly copper piece.

"Mr. Destry," Christopher was thinking quickly.

"W-what?"

"I believe you increased the fee from two coppers a night to five... last... no two weeks ago, yes?"

"Oh, yes!" Liam confirmed, seemingly catching on to the plan," I did."

"Five coppers! That's a man's wage. I won't shell out to a boy."

"Mr. Destry," Christopher continued, "how many stables are there in town?"

"Just Openmoor," Liam replied proudly, "and the palace, but that's a private livery."

"Seems like a man might be hard pressed to find shelter for his horse if he were unwilling to pay your fee, doesn't it?" Although he addressed his words to Liam, Christopher pointedly glared at the cheap skate. He really was a bear of a man.

"All right," growled the curmudgeon, as he angrily pressed an additional four copper pieces into Liam's palm," I'll be back for Killer first thing tomorrow."

"Killer? Interesting name for a horse," Christopher mused aloud. The man stared daggers at him.

"A man has a right to name his horse whatever he fancies, Christopher. It's not your place to question a customer on his animal's name. Now, get Killer settled."

Well, well, it seemed Liam was more adept at improvising than Christopher realized. Shrugging, the prince relieved Killer from the bear-man, taking the reins from a pair of large, hairy paws. The horse immediately snapped at him, and Christopher purposefully housed Killer five stalls away from his mild-tempered Sage. He didn't trust that evil horse.

"So, Mr. Destry," the secret prince began nonchalantly, "I've been here several weeks now. Might I have a raise in pay?"

"No! Does it look like I run a charity?"

Christopher was genuinely hurt. Was this how Liam repaid a favor?

"May I have a break at least?

"Fine," Liam rolled his green eyes, "fifteen minutes, but only after you've finished brushing down and feeding that horse.

"Yes, Mr. Destry, sir," Christopher resigned dejectedly, grabbing a currycomb from its spot on the wall.

Having seemingly witnessed enough, Partia's most obnoxious customer finally departed Openmoor Stables with a huff.

Christopher left young Liam to attend his business, and meandered through the village, situated not too far from the palace where he was raised. Partian Farmers had brought their goods to market, mostly hens and eggs. Produce would follow soon, though. Next week was Harvest, after all.

The market was a bustling place - peddlers everywhere. Christopher pondered what life might be like had he not been born into royalty. What would life entail? What could he do for a living? The prince paused for a moment to consider his personal skills. He was no hunter. That much was obvious. As much as Christopher loved horses, he simply couldn't see himself mucking out stalls all day. It was a wonder how little Liam accomplished all he did on his own. Feeding the horses in his care, cleaning their coats so diligently, mucking out stalls... hell, a single haystack probably weighed as much as Liam did. Christopher truly admired that little stable hand.

"Eggs!" A mature voice barked at him, startling Christopher from his thoughts.

"Sorry, ma'am?" the prince faced a handsome elderly woman who gazed upon him with stone gray eyes.

"These here are my last dozen eggs - all double yolks. I'll let you have them for a copper."

"Do I know you ma'am?" Christopher asked unable to shake a déjà vu feeling.

"No, I think I'd remember such a handsome face," the woman replied pinching his left cheek forcefully, "now, how's about some eggs? Remember, double yolks!"

"I don't need a dozen eggs," Christopher answered, rubbing his cheek.

"Oh, come now. Eggs build muscle. You could benefit from that!"

"Hey!"

"I speak only the truth, lad."

"Fine," Christopher surrendered, if only to send the crazy old bat on her way, "I'll take the lot."

The prince pulled a bronze piece from his drawstring pouch and handed it to the peddler woman.

"Oh, I can make change for that," she chimed.

"You may keep it."

"Thank you, kindly," the woman pinched his cheek again, and disappeared into the busy streets.

That was bizarre, Christopher thought to himself. He scratched his head and wondered how he was going to unload a basket full of eggs. Then suddenly, from across the way he saw her: Cinderella.