"You really don't need to help me with the dishes. I am perfectly capable of doing them on my own. I've been doing them for years." Christine gently pulled a plate from my hands and set her own drying towel to it.

I smiled and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to show off as a little more indignant than I felt. "I thought you wanted my help. I thought that was why I was here. To do your bidding."

She shrugged and tossed the blonde hair behind her shoulders. She looked incredibly beautiful when it was down. Maybe it was just the acclimating of being around her, but she seemed less and less like a skinny little girl. I still could not see why she would even think about fancying herself in the arms of Wyatt. "If you are to be my guardian angel or my fairy godmother or whatever I am to call you I think I had better find better roles for you than doing my pitiful series of jobs."

That was certainly a relief. I had not done much in the way of housework when I was alive. "And what would that be?"

Another shrug. "Fawn, someday I will discover just what I want from you and then I shall let you know."

"You are then saying that you simply wish for me to hang around you?"

She winked at me. "What else is a fairy godmother good for?" She set the plates in the cupboard and grabbed the broom. A good sweep and a mop was the next thing the kitchen needed. "At least I have made myself to be an excellent housekeeper."

I sighed. Despite her request I felt like an idiot standing their in the kitchen while my Pricking girl swept up invisible dust for people who hated her. I wondered why exactly I was supposed to be there. Of course I saw why. I saw the situation that Christine was in. I hated everything that was happening to her. I hated and yet loved the fact that I was so close to my beloved Wyatt. And because of all of this I had to wonder why in heaven's name I was here? What was supposed to happen now? It was not my duty to destroy Melissa and her daughters. That was no one's right.

"You want to see the Prince today, don't you?" I don't know if I were speaking to Christine or myself.

She did not even pause in her sweeping. She turned her head toward me, eyes sparkling with mischief. I could not keep up with her multiple moods and personalities. "Of course I want to see the Prince, silly! I would like nothing more than for His Majesty to ride through this door, on his horse because he will not take the time to get off of it to rescue me. Anyway, he would pull me onto his horse and we would ride away, far away from Sunelle and everyone here. I don't know where we would go, but we would be gone."

"There is a country called Tamenrook in the south," I said. Not that Wyatt would want to go there. Not with my memory probably still haunting it. "It's very rainy."

"I've heard of it," replied Christine. "Rain and plants and mists… I think it sounds very romantic. I'm sure you've been there. I'm sure angels go everywhere."

I nodded. "I have spent years and years there."

"Maybe we should go there. Or somewhere else. I don't care." She pulled out a dustpan, swept up the miniscule mess, and tossed it out the window. "But not right now. I need to start lunch soon."

"Would you like me to do something to the food?" I asked. Every time I thought of Melissa I wanted to scream.

"Are you allowed to?"

"No, actually. I am not an avenging angel."

Her smile was sad. I had not expected that. I had thought we were joking. "Then I shall start lunch."

And that was the moment when a knock came at the door.

Christine swore under her breath and chucked the broom against the wall. "Something else to prevent my chores."

I followed her to the door. There stood a finely dressed courier holding a decorated envelope.

"To the ladies of the house," he announced with a gentle smile. "Or any other woman in the household."

I decided I liked him.

Christine took the envelope and gave a clumsy curtsey in return. "I shall give it to my mistress," she said. "May I ask what it is?"

The courier seemed to expect this. "On the 17th of this month there shall be a ball at the palace to officiate and celebrate the coronation of Prince Wyatt, to be crowned King Wyatt of the Kingdom of Sunelle. Everyone is called to attendance."

The 17th was scarcely a week away.

"Everyone?" Christine echoed.

The courier nodded. "Everyone. It is a celebration of the citizens and all that can make it are invited to attend."

Christine curtsied again. "Thank-you."

"The pleasure is mine," he replied with a deep and sweeping bow. "I bid you good day."

Christine shut the door and stared at the envelope. "Fawn, it's a ball. I've never been to a ball."

I had never cared for balls, as much as I had looked forward to the engagement ball. "Yes, it is a ball. And with the way Melissa treats you it's no wonder you haven't been to one."

She nodded, then shook her head. "It is not just that. It's… the royal family doesn't give many balls. At least not in my memory. The Prince was engaged to a princess of another kingdom. When she was killed, I guess… well, as an angel I imagine that you would understand how people can be."

I nodded. I had seen plenty of people during my wanderings. "Yes, the heart breaks. That is what hearts tend to do. Prince Wyatt lost the love of his life, I imagine."

"I feel so sorry for him. I can't imagine what it was like. I was only a little girl at the time. But it was so long ago. This is good that he is having a ball, isn't it? It shows something." She smiled and shook her head again. "But it's for the coronation, so he must be expected to throw a ball. Even so, it must be healthy for him. I don't think it's good or right for people to continue to be sad forever. Mourning must stop someday. And… and I'm not saying this because of what I said yesterday. The Prince is a good man. He can't serve his country in a state of heartbreak! He should be happy."

"I'm sure his princess wanted him to be happy." With all my heart.

"Glad to see you agree." She held the envelope as if it would break. "I want to go to the ball."

My breath caught in my throat. Of course I did not need breath, not the way Christine or anyone else did. But the feeling was the same, the same icy wind that took over my heart. I had not attended my own ball. Why was another one returning? I closed my eyes for a moment.

I did not understand. With all I knew, with all I had seen of heaven and this world, I did not understand.

"Fawn?" Christine asked. "Are you all right?"

I nodded and opened my eyes. "I'm fine."

She held up the invitation. "So, then. What would you have me to do with this?"

"You said you wished to go to the ball."

But then I noticed her smile. "Fawn, Melissa or the roaches know nothing of this invitation."

"Christine, you are a terrible girl!" As I smiled in clear wickedness.

She laughed, shook her hair out, and crammed it into the pocket of her apron. "I'm out of here."

My eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." She opened the door—the front door she probably was not supposed to use—and darted outside, blonde hair streaming behind her like a willow tree in the fall. "They aren't home anyway! You told me I need to get out of this house."

"But you're barefoot!" I called after her.

"Protect me, then, Fairy Godmother!" She was already out of the front gate. It was not even a sunny morning. Thick clouds blocked the sunlight and threatened rain, maybe even a storm. But Christine was gone, running across the road and then the field like some wild thing. I remembered thinking her a ghost that first night and maybe I was right.

"Christine!" I called again. I finally started my own run. The air was chill—I could sense as much—but oddly refreshing. I heard a pound of thunder. If lightening came she certainly would need protection. So I ran.

I did not feel myself running, not at first. I had never been one for the field of athletics, so it was a good thing that my spirit body did not tire as a mortal's would. My mind was on Christine. She seemed thrilled. She was almost toward the hills, the lightly wooded bumps that built up to the mountains Wyatt of which Wyatt had spoken so fondly. The trees were small and sparse, but Christine disappeared into them then reappeared. Like firelight.

She finally stopped halfway up a steep hill. There I caught up with her. Drops of water were already sprinkling from the sky. She had collapsed on the grass, her chest heaving for breath. But her face was bright.

"Christine!" I scolded. "What has gotten into you?"

She held up a finger demanding patience for a few moments then, with a last noisy gasp, she pulled out the invitation to the ball. "What has gotten into me? I'm going to destroy this before Melissa or Amelia or Grace find out anything about it. They will not go to the ball. I will."

I sat down next to her. The thick grass was already wet, along with all the weeds and other plants scattered among them. Many of them I did not recognize from Tamenrook. They smelled wonderful. The leaves above us were as a canopy. I heard the rain drops, growing each time, striking the leaves which gave way under the weight. The rain drops felt good. I missed rain. It was not rain like in Tamenrook, that was a given.

"There's a brook up here," Christine said. "I shall drown this invitation."

"You could simply leave it here," I suggested. "The rain will destroy it easily enough."

"You're right. Wonderful idea." She tore the invitation into three pieces and dropped them on the ground. "The strange is that I very well know they will learn soon enough, but this is still satisfying."

"Christine," I said. "You are the craziest person I have ever met in all my years."

She smiled. "I'm going to take that as a compliment." She closed her eyes and faced the rain. "I do love this kingdom. I really do. I just hate Melissa."

"I can see why."

"And I can't just sit here. It's not safe to be around trees during storms."

The same knowledge I had been told growing up. "Do you want to head back after that display of insanity?"

"Soon enough." She climbed to her feet just as lightening cracked over the sky. "No, we'll head back now. Another run sound good to you?"

"I…"

She headed down a completely different trail through the trees.

"Christine!" I shrieked. I was the angel. I should have more power over her than this.

By the time I caught up to her she had already stopped. She was staring at the ground. It was a fire pit. The rain had taken care of any possible steam, but it seemed fresh enough.

"Someone's been camping up here," she said softly.

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea. But it's interesting. And look at the ground. Someone has slept here." She pointed at a random spot that looked no different from any of the other ground around her. My former princesshood had not taught me such things. "Who would want to sleep around here?" She pondered it for another moment, but then thunder and lightening came again. This time she screamed. "I don't like storms as much as I pretend to!" And then she was running. Again.

The trees faded into clear field, which was safer save for the fact that Christine was now the tallest thing around. The rain came down in sheets. I could not see inches in front of my face. It was water that had burst from nowhere, as if God Himself had shredded open the sky. I was well aware that things did not quite work that way but the simile was understandable. Christine continued to run. I let my eyes see to her, though I could not imagine how she was able to see anything. "Christine" I shouted, this time in worry.

There was a scream.

Not lightening. Please, no lightening.

It looked like she had simply tripped. She seemed to be miles away from me, lying on the ground, slowly picking herself up before collapsing again.

I had to get to her.

But before I could move, something else happened. Like another angel, though this was clearly mortal. A man on a horse. He climbed off the horse. Water poured from his hat as he bent to the ground to pick up the girl called Christine. She seemed unhurt. Good.

For some reason, I could not move. I could just watch.

They were speaking. Both mouths moved. They looked at each other.

They were speaking.

It was Wyatt, of course. That man was Wyatt.

I did not understand.