For all of her love of frills and fancies Queen Patricia certainly could put an event together. Before long what had begun as whispers and vague plans had become the bright realities of Queen Patricia's "little series of games" culminating on a warm morning when I crawled from my quarters to find the palace swarming with all sorts of young men.

I of course ran right back to my room, wondering how I had let Queen Patricia do such things. For a woman who had spent so many years avoiding a husband of her own she was amazingly set on finding one for me. I paced the floor, circling my bed a dozen times, included a bit of studying my reflection in the mirror. Would I have been considered such a marital prize had I still been a monkey?

But all my years of court life taught me that I could only hide in my room so long. Eventually I put on a flattering gown, made myself pretty, and ventured forth with all the charm I could muster. Immediately I was the victim of much adoration and fawning and I could not deny that it all was rather fun in a bizarre way. It was like when I was still celebrated as the talking monkey, only more preferable.

The assortment of suitors included samples from all walks of life—that is, anything from the sons of wealthy merchants and up the social scale from there. I met all types and even managed to put together a few names and faces.

Queen Patricia, of course, was happier than I. She bustled about in as queenly a fashion as possible, complaining loudly at all she had to do and apologizing even more loudly for the awful state of the palace that she had spent so long preparing. Dinner was a light affair somehow made elaborate. The food was bright and fresh, the conversation loud and chaotic, and I should not have been surprised I found myself having fun. Amongst all the madness Queen Patricia caught my eye, smiled, and mouthed something about having my choice among two dozen young men.

I barely saw Bastien or Pierre all day. Those choice glances revealed Pierre happily socializing and Bastien drifting to the sidelines to watch. He either was sizing up the competition or giving up altogether and observing in jealousy.

The afternoon was a fury of more socializing, repeats of introductions of those men I had forgotten, and probably more organized events I could not remember. Queen Patricia's plan for me was of course to be quite solid—that day was merely a casual affair, a way to get friendly before the chaos started.

Queen Patricia planned to have two days of competitions.

At last afternoon came to a close and more guests arrove. Ladies. The evening would consist of one of Queen Patricia's famous balls and apparently even she realized I could not be expected to dance with every single man there. To those ladies I was not introduced. I was made up all over again and shoved out to be admired anew.

I had hardly put on the proper poise for a ball and smilingly greeted a few young ladies when a hand fell on my shoulder.

It was Bastien.

I smiled before I could stop myself. "You're still here."

He blinked twice, then returned the smile. "Why would I have left?"

I shook my head and turned my smile to a passing suitor before returning it to Bastien. "Whenever I saw you today you seemed to be inching toward the doors. I figured you would either leave or doing something nefarious like seek out a weapon and kill everyone."

"All your suitors?" He made a face. "That would take an awful lot of work, Princess. I would get bored after awhile. I don't care much for hand-to-hand combat."

"So you must have confidence you will win my hand."

He laughed outright at that. "You must recall that Queen Patricia has known me all my life. Not to pressure you, but I'm sure I would be her first choice for your husband."

I had not thought of that. No wonder Queen Patricia had allowed him to hang around so long. "Your mother already made the offer."

"Yes. But now I make it of my own choice." His eyes were right on mine. The gaze was solid and steady, holding not a hint of a joke.

I had a sudden urge to climb up yet another pillar.

He continued to watch me. Waiting.

"I…" I had no idea what I was trying to say. Was my body so set on a response? "I… Queen Patricia arranged this whole event and…" Had he truly just asked me to marry him? And he was serious? The last time I had suggested marriage he had laughed right at me and now he had the nerve to bring it up himself? It was all I could do to hit him and how would I have explained that?

He smiled again, though he looked hurt. "I understand. You're good at this. So vague and polite. Perfect for the court. I do expect a dance with, though. Later." He turned to go.

"It's not that I don't care for you!" I called after him.

Bastien stopped. "And I care for you."

I looked quickly about the ballroom, then urged him to the wall. Being overheard was not what I wanted. "What does that even mean, Prince Bastien?"

He looked startled. "Why, exactly what I said. I really can't explain it. You are an exquisite creature, straight from the heavens. You are the very light of the morning."

I sighed. Queen Patricia would soon berate me for not seeing to her selection of suitors. Though of course if she did favor Bastien she would encourage this clandestine thing. "Did you steal that from some poet's collection?" Not quite the sweet response I should have given.

His jaw dropped. "I actually came up with it all by myself."

"Do you care for me or do you just like throwing pretty phrases at girls?"

The confidence was gone. All that was left was a stammering and blushing Bastien. It was almost cute.

"I must be off, Prince Bastien," I said with a curtsey and a turn to go.

"But I feel like I know you!"

That received from me only the briefest pause. "Not a surprising thing considering we have had sufficient time in which to get acquainted. I suppose you're going to next tell me that you never felt this way about any other girl."

"I—"

I smiled back at him. "That's what I thought."

"Princess Singette, you can't get upset over the truth!" he replied, walking quickly after me. "It's not my fault the phrase is so used."

"So you're telling me that you mean it this time unlike you have ever meant it before?" The pointed question felt good on my tongue. Speaking to Bastien this way was fun.

"Yes, and without all the sarcasm you drown the poor statement in."

"I did no such thing. The statement is long dead."

For a long time he said nothing. That I had not expected, and I stopped. From the corner of my eye I noticed one of my other suitors striding forward with the sure invitation of a dance that would be extended as soon as Prince Bastien would leave me alone.

"And so is your tongue, I see," I said to Bastien.

He laughed. A strong, heady, and downright mocking laugh that set my blood boiling. "You're fighting hard not to accept my proposal, aren't you?"

I spun around to face him. His face was as delighted as his laugh.

"You don't want to want to marry me," he continued. "I can see that, now."

My awaiting dance partner, emboldened by my lack of proposal acceptance, cleared his throat loudly. I flashed him a patient smile. I would be more than thrilled to dance with him as soon as Bastien would go away.

"You, Bastien," I said, letting the prince title fall, "are just as pig-headed and vain as I remember!"

"Remember from where, exactly?"

I wouldn't be responding to that. "I don't want to want to marry you? Am I really that transparent? Oh, the boundless undeclared love I hold for you that I cannot admit even to myself! How's that for drowned in sarcasm? This clearly must be your first proposal. And to a princess like me!"

"If I may remind you, you're only a princess because of Queen Patricia."

If only he knew the half of it. "And that's good enough for her. I'm considering calling your statement an insult to me."

"You wouldn't." He didn't look terribly scared.

I sighed and shook my head. "No, no, I will not. Just… just go dance with someone else for awhile."

"We never danced."

"You know what I mean. And if you will just excuse me…"

The long-suffering prince (or was he the son of a knight?) stepped forward. "May I have this dance?"

I graciously accepted. The prince or whomever he was made for a marvelous dance partner, the kind that could tolerate my clumsiness, though I was still irked that Bastien hadn't bothered to ask me for a dance.

The ball was, true to Queen Patricia's abilities, wonderful. With Bastien out of sight I found myself having a good time. I enjoyed the conversation, learning and relearning names, the dancing, the music, the smattering of boastings on who would succeed at which competitions. The ladies there for the night complimented me on my gown and I on theirs.

But there was one girl in particular I found interesting. I vaguely recalled an introduction, though her name slipped my mind. In my defense she was not particularly noticeable. Though the quality of her gown held its own among the others, she herself lacked the same attraction. The only girls I had ever called ugly were the irritating ones that would flock to Bastien and I did that only to be just as irritating. I wouldn't dare call this girl ugly, but I imagined others would be able to name plenty of flaws about her. She did not participate in the conversation or the dancing, and it was precisely this that drew her from the unnoticeable to the center of my attention.

Poor thing.

But before I could make my way to her, she disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

I searched for her, kicking myself for the shock that someone would ask her to dance.

But a moment later she reappeared, a smile doing wonders for her face. She was a fine dancer, better than I could ever hope to be. Her feet moved effortlessly with the music, her hands placed position perfect on her partner.

Bastien.