Ophelia pushed open the tall, oak door, taking her leave of the ballroom. Suddenly, the door became much lighter. She looked up to see Burk's hand higher up, holding open the door for her. He smiled, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Off so soon, Princess?"

She nodded. "I should have followed your lead this afternoon Sir, and had that rest. I'm afraid I'm much too tired to dance any longer."

"Would you rather sit, then? I have many stories to tell, stories of my family and friends. I'm sure you must be curious about your future family."

The princess smiled. "While that sounds most entertaining, I'm afraid it's better for me if I rest now. I . . . I haven't been feeling well these past few days."

Burk took her arm and laced it through his. "Let me escort you to your room, then. I wouldn't want you to faint all alone on your way there."

She sighed. With no choice, she nodded and let him come with her. Along the way, she started to feel guilty again. She glanced up at him and noticed the freckles doting his nose. His skin was slick with a thin layer of sweat and she saw his dimples creasing lines in his fair skin. He was such a common man, she could almost love him.

"Tell me Burk, when you were informed of our engagement, were you happy?"

"Happy, milady?"

She nodded. "Did it . . . surprise you?"

"I cannot say I was expecting such a thing, but it has all turned out well, has it not?"

"I suppose so."

He smiled. "You will be a wonderful queen someday. Our sons will be strong and wise, and our daughters . . . our daughters will have your beauty."

Ophelia blushed. "Such kind words, Your Grace. You do me much kindness."

Burk patted the back of her hand. "You will see I am much like my country, rough to intruders, but to those I trust I am docile, like a lamb."

She wondered if he truly meant those things, or if he said them to keep up appearances. She had never been to Germany before.

When they came to her chamber, she grabbed the key from her pocket and took her arm away from his. She turned to bid him goodnight, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she felt his kiss upon the corner of her mouth. She remembered the role she had to play. Dutiful bride-to-be, such an awful thing. She leaned back against the door, placing a hand against the purple lapel of his tunic.

"Sir I—I fear you are growing too bold. Should we not wait until we are married before engaging in such-" she would have finished, but he kissed her again, softly at first, then he grew bold. She felt his hand squeeze her hip, his nose brushing against hers as their teeth clicked together. Ophelia grimaced, thankful his eyes were closed, then placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and forced him to step back.

"Burk, please—I am a lady, not some scullery maid waiting behind a curtain!"

The prince had the decency to blush, but she could feel something hard against her thigh and could only imagine what was going on with the man.

"I . . . I apologize, Princess. Please, forgive me. You are just, you're so beautiful and I—I could not wait any longer." He bowed his head. "Will you accept my most sincere apology?"

"I will Sir, and I will do you the decency of never mentioning this to anyone. Goodnight, Burk."

He tilted his head down and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Princess."

She saw him round the corner, and once alone, she pressed her back against the door and sighed. Ophelia pressed a hand over her chest, counting the beating of her heart. Those kisses, intended to draw her closer to Burk, only made her think of Nicholas. Her knees knocked together and she gripped the door handle tightly. She would be with him soon, then everything would be fine again.

The princess locked the door behind her. Amalie yipped from her pillow, wagging her tiny tail at the girl she would call Master. Raoul, from his perch on the chair, stared at the yapping creature with curiosity. She wondered if the old dog would try to eat the pup if she grew too chatty.

Ophelia knelt before her bed and pulled out her bag. From it she shoved her shaking legs into thick trousers. She managed to untie the dress and hang it up in the closet before wrapping herself in a long, patchwork skirt and a chemise with brown sleeves that hung past her wrists. Ready to go, she tossed the bag over her shoulder and looked to her dogs.

"Raoul, come."

With the mountain dog at her side, she saw the pup still wagging its tail. Would it be rude to steal a gift from the prince? She recalled his kisses and picked the dog up, placing her inside her bag. The clothes would keep Amalie warm and muffle her noises.

She gave a last backwards glance at her old room, then left, tossing the key out the nearest window.

"How are you not ready? I gave you all day!"

"I apologize, but while you only had to tend to a room, I have a whole house to organize!"

"You make it sound like I had such an easy time! You didn't just have another man's tongue down your throat."

Nicholas stopped shoving trousers into his bag. "What?"

Her cheeks flushed. "You heard me."

He stared at her, his eyes wide and pale, like that first day she met him. "You kissed another man?"

"No, he kissed me. There's a difference. And I didn't ask for it, but when you're playing the part of a bride, you have to lie." She scrunched up her nose. "It isn't as if I had a choice."

Nicholas didn't say anything. She heard his boots as they walked to his closet. She reached into one of his drawers and pulled out a black tunic with silver fleur de les. She began to fold it.

"You could have stayed, you know."

"I know."

"You could have been happy with him."

"I know."

"You-"

"Nicholas, would you just be quiet? I'm here. With you. Leave it be."

"Do you want to be, truly?"

She brought his shirt to the bag and, whilst standing beside him, leaned over and pecked his cheek. "Yes," she whispered. "Now can we please stop fighting? I'd rather not start our engagement off with angry words."

Nicholas curled his fingers around hers and squeezed. "As my lady wishes," he replied.

By the time they were done, the house looked as it always had, but there was a sadness that lingered between the floorboards. Ophelia saw Nan on the couch with Amalie curled up beside her. A quilt was over the one while the pup buried against it like it was nesting.

"You're sure you don't mind keeping her until we return?" asked the princess.

Nan looked up from her stitching and shook her head. "Of course not! Such a tiny thing would get lost so easily, it's best to keep her here," she smiled. "Besides, I could use the company, now that you both will be gone."

Nicholas glanced out the window. "We should leave now, while the moon is still at its highest. I don't want to risk another run in with a wolf."

Nan pushed herself off the couch and grasped the princess in a tight embrace. "I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered.

Ophelia buried her head against the girl's curls. "I will miss you too. I promise to write."

"Good, I wouldn't expect anything less!" she giggled.

Once parted, Nicholas handed over the set of keys to his home. "Be sure to keep this place a secret. For your protection, and ours."

"I promise. Ophelia, take care of him, will you? And you Nicholas, don't kill her in the first month," she teased.

Ophelia smiled, blinking away the tears. Raoul trotted over and as she stared at her old friend, she knelt down to his level and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. "If only you were younger, my sweet boy. We could run through the fields together, just like we used to," she whispered. She pulled back and scratched behind his ears. "You have to stay here, okay? Nan will take good care of you." Raoul tilted his head to the right, staring at her. She wiped her eyes. "Please don't think I love you any less," she whispered.

Nan smoothed the dog's fur. "I'll take good care of him, Ophelia, I swear it."

The princess nodded then rose to her feet. Nicholas took her hand in his and waved farewell to the new guardian of the home.

"We'll be seeing you," he promised.

Nan nodded as she watched them leave from the back door. Nicholas' horse was already saddled and ready to go. As Ophelia mounted the gentle animal, she heard Raoul's whimpers.

I can't risk you getting eaten by wolves, or worse. It's too dangerous.

It was only when they had left the inner circle around Nicholas' home did she feel the first shudders of home sickness. It bit her heart, causing her to duck her head as Nicholas guided the horse through the brush. She placed a hand over her mouth to conceal her crying, but he felt her trembling against his chest. She expected silence, and that was what she found. His hands remained on the reins, but his head dipped to her shoulder, rubbing against the soft skin exposed between her neck and shoulder blade. It wasn't much, but the small comfort was enough.

Hours later, when they were far beyond the woods and castle, Ophelia suggested a small village nearby.

"I have only been there once when I was seven. No one will recognize me," she explained.

Nicholas agreed, following her directions to the area. He may not have said it, but she suspected he was grateful for the map she smuggled from her father's study.

She guessed it was almost three o'clock when they road into the quiet town. The only light on in the whole village was at the church, so that was where Nicholas directed them. She spotted a stable in the back, and after grabbing her bag from the animal, she let Nicholas settle their steed inside it. Hopefully the priest wouldn't object to a late night interruption.

Nicholas made her promise to wait for him before knocking, so to pass the time she stared up at the stars. As she did so, she was sure she heard Camilla's laughter. Above her, her brothers' eyes watched her, teasing her as they used to when she was younger. She thought she saw her parents forming in the stars, but that was interrupted by the hand on the small of her back. Nicholas kissed her cheek before using the brass knocker to grab the priest's attention.

A lean man of almost sixty stood before them. His spectacles hung off his hooked nose and the large, gold cross glittered in the candlelight. She smiled and bobbed a curtsey.

"Good evening, Father. We're deeply sorry for the interruption, but we have been riding all night and are in great need of a place to rest our heads."

The priest glanced at the princess then Nicholas, who agreed with his companion. Suddenly, the man smiled widely, revealing two missing teeth on the left side of his mouth.

"Come in, come in! What kind of shepherd would I be if I didn't offer shelter for the lambs?" He held the door open, waiting until Ophelia and Nicholas were inside before shutting it behind them. "You're in luck. I was just about to go to bed when I heard your knocking. The Good Book kept me up most of the night. Such interesting words, don't you think?"

Ophelia smiled. "I'm afraid we wouldn't know Father, we can't read Latin." Well, that was a lie on her part, but he didn't need to know that.

"Oh yes, of course, how silly of me! Are you two hungry, by any chance? I always have a snack before bed myself." Without waiting for an answer, he led them through the brick corridors towards the warm kitchen. It was small, much like Nicholas', but the table was pushed against the window. She guessed this was his private eating area.

The priest put on a fresh pot of tea as he rummaged for something to eat. "Now tell me, where do you two hail from?"

"South of Paris," Nicholas answered. "We're doing a bit of travelling."

"Travel, you say? Interesting, very interesting!" he said with his head stuck in a cupboard. When he came out, he had a jar of honey in one hand and dry bread in the other. "I'm afraid this will have to do for now. My cook hasn't gone shopping since yesterday, and a whole host of Scotsman came through in search of a good meal. I couldn't refuse them." He set the food on the table then gathered plates. "Sit, sit! You two must be tired after such a long day's travel."

He sat down soon enough, opposite the pair, and spread a generous amount of honey over the rye bread. The priest asked them all kinds of questions, asking about their families and what they did for work. Finally, the man took a deep breath. "I must say, you two do make a fine couple. But I do notice there is not ring on her finger. Am I to presume you two are unwed?"

Ophelia nodded. "Yes, Father. Our parents are less than approving of such a union."

"So you've run off together, is that it?"

She blushed. "I know it is wrong in the eyes of God to disobey our parents, but," she felt Nicholas' hand under the table squeeze hers, "sometimes we cannot help these things."

The priest nodded as his pale green eyes flickered from her face to his. "I cannot force you to return home, young ones, but if you are going to travel together, might I suggest it be in a more . . . appropriate manner?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

The man smiled. "A parent cannot overrule a marriage performed before God."

Ophelia's eyes widened. "You wish to marry us?"

"It is the only logical answer, safe of escorting you home," he chuckled. "Although I'm sure your parents would tolerate that much more."

She looked to Nicholas. Could this be a trap?

"Why would you do something like that for us?" asked Nicholas. "We are strangers."

The priest shook his head. "No one is a stranger before God, my son. Do you wish to wait until morning, or should we perform it now?"

Again, the couple looked to each other for the answer. The longer they waited, the greater their chances of being caught before they could wed.

Ophelia stared back at the priest. "Tonight, if it pleases you."

The priest grinned. "It would please me very much. I was in love once too, when I was young. If God hadn't called me to the priesthood . . ." he trailed off. He pushed back his chair and finished the last of his bread. "Come along, come! This is going to be a very important event!"

The princess followed his lead and the pair trailed off behind him.

Ophelia stared at the stone ceiling, listening to the drops of water drop into the tin can near the bed. The thin wool sheets itched fiercely, forcing her to shove one leg out. Beside her, Nicholas slept. From the corner of her eye she could see his shoulders rise and fall.

Married, she thought. I did it.

She placed one of her hands over her belly and sighed. Was this how Henri felt that day he wed his true love? She shut her eyes halfway, picturing the elder man make a fool of himself around his wife. She smiled as she imagined Henri spinning Magdalene around. Perhaps he danced with her in a field. Or had they spent the day hiding under covers, planning their future in whispers?

She missed him. She wished she had said goodbye.

The breeze from the open window caused her to shudder. The priest had been kind enough to offer them a room in the top of the church. The marriage document, signed with their signatures still damp, was rolled up in her bag. She made sure to take it from the priest in case he suddenly decided not to give it to them. She wasn't willing to take any risks yet. On their way up earlier, despite the excitement, the couple agreed they would not stay for breakfast.

He's a nice fellow, but I don't trust him.

Nicholas sighed in his sleep. Ophelia turned her head and smiled at him. All and all, this was a successful first night in her books. She lazily rolled onto her side and wrapped her arm around her husband's bare chest. His arm rested against hers as his hand covered hers. His back was warm as she pressed her cheek against it and she shut her eyes, soon drifting off to sleep in the confines of her husband's embrace.