The next I walked through town in hopes of hearing… I don't know what I hoped to hear. Mention of me? Why would Wyatt be running around declaring that information? He must have thought that he was dreaming, that little Angel had left early before he had awoken… something. My Wyatt was a logical man, but I could only hope.

All the buzz was instead on the upcoming ball. Of course it was. A new king would be crowned and practically everyone would swarm into the royal palace to see it. Prince Wyatt would be a great king, everyone said. He was perfect for it, already ran so much on his own. It was only natural that he should take the crown and make it official. He would be wonderful.

Apparently everyone loved him.

Of course they loved him. Who wouldn't love him?

I considered going to the palace, perhaps as Angel, and finding him. Would that be proper? Probably. Apologize for the rudeness of the night before of stumbling into his own personal cottage and then showing plenty of gratitude for his kindness. I considered it for awhile, actually, before making my way up.

I was greeted at the gate, but was told Prince Wyatt was off hunting, had been all night.

That was all the terror I needed, though I like to think I would have known if something had happened to Wyatt. Though with that odd man about and my own personal worries of life in the woods it wasn't unthinkable. Perhaps I worried too much. What trouble could be afoot in these woods? Wyatt had told me all about them, how he used to play in them all the time. The answer was simple. He had not returned home from the cottage. That was all.

Even so I put myself there. A blink of my eyes and I was standing in the cottage. The blankets Wyatt had loaned Angel had vanished, so he had come for them, and a thin bed of ashes lined the hearth.

"Wyatt," I muttered.

I walked outside. No sign of him. Just the quiet hum of the morning woods, a beautiful sight. Nothing could be wrong on a day like that.

The church was my next thought. I put myself there next. And I was right.

He was not alone in the church. A few worshippers dotted the pews, intensely avoiding looking at Wyatt. What was a prince doing in a humble chapel like this? It had to be quite the exciting notion for them. Wyatt sat in the back, hands clasped and head bowed. He was a mess, though his station as prince and soon-to-be-king shown through. He had to be recognized still. He would be all the more royal with a bath and clean clothes. But he was safe. I really must have terrified him last night.

Not sure what else to do, I took to wandering the church. Man-made things as they were, they were still holy and sacred, a middle world between earth and heaven. And this was a lovely example despite age having got to it. The wood was good, strong, and well-cut, joints well-fastened. Yes, humble, but well-made, and it constantly smelled of pine. Was there no better scent on earth than pine? It was fresh, it was clean, it was eternal. Such an appropriate wood for building a church. No gaudy ornate decorations littered the place. It had a pulpit, analter, pews, all the necessities. The windows, I noticed, were cut in the shapes of leaves. Amazing.

I would have been glad to marry him in this church. I said a prayer to bless the place and left.

I waited outside awhile. Somehow I felt better outside, though the church had been wonderful, special even. Why Wyatt liked it was evident. But outside the church was just as lovely, just as well-formed. It was the picture-book example of a church.

Wyatt's horse stood tied, packs resting on its back. Good animal. I petted her head. She seemed to notice and respond happily.

Then I wondered if Christine had made off on her own horse while I was out pining for Wyatt. And to think I had been doing such a good job. She still couldn't be seen, I had taken care of that. Now the question was if she were running about invisible. Oh, but the fun she would have with that.

But I found her where I had left her, sitting against a tree, reading a book of all things. For that I adored her. She looked up as I appeared. "You're back. I thought you had abandoned me."

"I thought about it," I teased. "I actually would have been gone longer but I thought you would run off."

"I thought about that." She closed the book and set it down. "You can't expect me to stay out here forever."

"Till the ball. The days are counting down. Four days until the ball. You can wait that long, unless you want to go back."

"To Melissa's? No, thank-you. You went into town today. Did you hear anything? About me?" She leaned forward, grinning, eager to hear of her own gossip.

"No. Either Melissa has told no one or no one cares in view of the ball."

"I am excited for the ball, Fawn," she said shyly. "I know I've been terrible at admitting it, but I am. I want to see my dress, but I guess that is going to have to be a surprise, too."

"I think it would be more fun that way. Are you sure you don't want to live out here? It's charming." I half-joked. I had little intention of keeping my charge outdoors in the elements, but if it were necessary, it was not such a bad idea.

Christine nodded and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. I have a better idea. Prince Wyatt's old cottage."

I had told her nothing of my night at the cottage. "Really? That old thing?"

"It should suffice for a few days, shouldn't it? It's filthy, it needs to be cleaned." She stood up. "Come on. I'm sure I can get us back there." Before I could say anything she was jumping on her horse and trotting off.

Well, worse ideas had existed, and the more I thought about it the more I realized it was the perfect solution. And if Wyatt appeared again, so be it, probably all the better.

The cottage was surprising to see despite having seen it only minutes before. I believe it was because of Christine's presence, her delight in arriving. She tied up her horse on a tree near some grass and spun around in giddy thrill.

"I'm back here! Again! I didn't think I would love it so much after a day!"

"Are we going to clean it?" I walked inside and immediately threw open all the windows. Light spilled into the cottage, complete with disgusting columns of dust.

"Yes!" she replied in a sing-song voice. Then I heard the distinct sound of fabric ripping.

"What are you doing out there?"

"Making rags. I hate this dress."

"Christine, you have me to clean for you," I said as I stepped out. She was not yet immodest, just set on destroying the hem of the skirt.

"I don't want you cleaning for me. You can help me, but I will be doing the cleaning, thank-you very much. Now, please go find some water or something handy."

I sighed and made a full jug appear in my arms. "This is how I make myself handy."

"I know. Magic must get boring that way. I'm so sorry." But she dipped her rag into the jug and walked into the cottage. "Wow, we're going to be doing a lot of work here."

And so that was how the rest of the morning passed. Scrubbing, with me providing the materials. Which I was happy to do, though the girl who had spent too long as an angel itched to just snap my fingers and be done with the place. But Christine was against it. To her, cleaning was suddenly a pleasure, something that she alone could do. Why not? She had spent years being forced to do it and she had developed a talent. Why not take pride in it when she wasn't being enslaved? She had me create her a broom, which she then used to kick out a storm cloud of who dared to know what out the front door. It became a game, that sweeping, of me dodging the clouds and then taking the broom from her and showing what was what. We both wound up filthy, but the floor at least was dust-free. The mopping that followed was an even worse disaster.

But our cleaning disasters worked. Cobwebs were pulled from the corners, the ceiling was cleaned, and the inside glistened as best it could. We even cleaned out the hearth in a sooty mess. But it was fun. Wonderful. And the cottage looked great.

"I'm starved," Christine said as soon as the last wave of muddy water was struck from the house. "I never even ate breakfast. Or dinner last night, for that matter."

"Want me to make you something?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I want real food, not angel food."

"What are you going to eat?"

"I was actually thinking of going into town and getting something."

"By that you mean stealing."

"No, no. I told you I had money. I'm going to be done with stealing. I promise." She put a hand over her heart. "My second plan was gathering. There has to be something to eat out here that isn't poisonous…"

"You know some?" I asked as she began raking through the bushes.

"Well, no, but I thought we could figure it out."

"By what? Testing them to see if you die or not? Let me just-"

We stopped as something moved in the distance. A horse.

"It better not be that man again," Christine muttered.

"He didn't have a horse," I replied. I stared until I finally caught a glimpse.

Wyatt. He was back. Did he ever go back to that palace of his? I took the charm from Christine. She was now visible. "It's the Prince," I whispered.

"What?"

But by then Wyatt was coming through on horseback, pulling the reins to a stop. "Christine!"

She curtsied.

"What a pleasure to see you." He laughed. "It seems this cottage is a less private than I thought it was. What are you doing here? Are you.. cleaning?"

Christine stared down at her dress. Her filthy and torn dress. "Yes. I'm sorry, but you keep this place a mess for a place you claim to care so much about."

"You just cleaned this cottage all by yourself?" He climbed down from the horse. "This is what you've been doing? Did Angel help you?"

"Angel?" She was good enough not to glance in my direction, not that I could be seen. "Oh, she…"

"She spent the night here, if she told you that."

"She did. Poor thing. Came back, said you were very kind."

"I'm glad. She left early. I'm amazed I didn't hear her wake up and leave. She arrived home safely?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"And then you come here?"

Christine smiled and shrugged. "She also mentioned the place was not fit for rats to sleep in. She can be brutally honest that way. So I came here as soon as she said that."

"But she wasn't here to help you?"

"She had work to do, I'm afraid. But I managed to sneak out."

Wyatt laughed "That's very kind of you. I should have cleaned it years ago, but I never thought I would be using it that much. Yet I sleep her last night, I find myself coming back this way again… and then to find the surprise of a clean cottage waiting for me." He walked across the ground and stepped into the cottage. "It's amazing!"

"Yes, amazing what a little work can do," she said, following him in.

"I don't know how to thank you."

She paused a while as I slid in behind them. "I have a request."

"Anything for you, Christine." He sat down in one of the freshly polished chairs.

"Would you consider letting me stay here?"

He stood up again. "Why?"

I put my hand to my face. Oh, no, Christine.

"I'm not going back to Lady Melissa's."

"I thought that was your home."

"Let it be her home. I don't care."

He watched her for a long time. She did not move under his gaze. "Of course you can stay here, if that's what you want. But… I could help, if you would let me. You could be up at the palace, you know. Not as a servant, but as my guest. It would be the best thing for you."

Her eyes flashed, and I thought she would be rude, but she spoke well. How could I have doubted her? "Prince Wyatt, you are very kind, but I won't have your charity."

"Then what will become of you?"

"I'll manage. Believe me, I will hold you to your offer if need be. But right now, I'm happy as long as you don't give me away."

"You mean you don't want me throwing you on the back of my horse and towing you back to your stepmother and a court?"

"I would prefer it to be done on the horse I brought."

"Did you steal that as well?"

She laughed. "If it's my home as you said, then it wasn't stealing."

Wyatt laughed as well, and sat back down in the chair. "I can't leave you out there. You're hardly more than a child. This is no place for you. What are you planning on eating?"

"I haven't planned that far ahead."

And once more he was up, this time pacing the room. "You must be starving!"

Her smile faded.

"I was hunting. I caught some rabbits. I'll cook them up for you."

"You know how to do that?"

Wyatt was already out the door. Christine and I followed.

"You'll have to build a fire," he said. "Or I will. You've already done too much." He pulled two rabbits from a pouch, fat strong things.

"Are you prepared to skin those?" Christine asked.

"Why wouldn't I be? I brought a knife for that, to be on the safe side. Just in case I fail to return when I'm supposed to. Like this."

"I never imagined a prince would know how to do such things."

But he did. Soon the rabbits were skinned and butchered and roasting over a fire he himself had built. The delicious smell filled the room. Wyatt and Christine sat before it, so similar to how he had sat with me last night.

"You spend a lot of time out here, don't you?" Christine asked.

"Not really," he replied with a shrug. "But on occasion I go through these moments when I just have to be outside. I think it's good for the soul to be outdoors."

"Does it make you feel closer to Fawn?"

He smiled. "It's funny you should ask that. It does."

"Do you think she's around? If you believe in that? Watching you?"

He sighed and turned to her. "Last nigh, I thought I saw something. Maybe it's what you say. It was just outside, at least, I was just outside. And I thought I actually saw her in the distance. I hate to say it was just my imagination. I like what you suggest. Yours is better."

"Of course it is."

I left at that point. I feared it was going to be the exact same conversation I already had with him.