To cheer you up, here is possibly my favourite chapter ever! xD

CALLUM

The following morning found me sitting on my balcony, hollow-eyed. I'd got about an hour of sleep, and a restless one at that. All night I'd racked my brains about how to find her. But short of having my father's men search every village in Nabol and Falecia, I could think of nothing. I didn't even know where her home was. Somehow I'd never got around to asking for the specific address.

Eventually I decided that I had better go and spend the morning with my father, as I'd fallen into the habit of doing lately. It meant that I could avoid seeing Elena until lunch at least, and sometimes not even then if she and Lydia had gone to town or for a quiet ride. I was feeling more and more guilty of the way I thought of her – as an annoyance more than anything else; yet the conviction of which I'd spoken to Helen grew stronger by the minute. Elena had changed. True, that was perhaps to be expected after the trauma of being kept prisoner for so long; but she was not the girl I used to know, and I did not love her any more. Feelings of some kind there were: I could not deny that. She was my first love, after all. But no matter how hard I tried I could not summon up half of the depth of feeling I had for Helen.

My father looked almost as tired as I did, but he did not say anything about the night before, for which I was exceedingly grateful. For a few hours I found a blessed relief in pretending that everything was as it had been, and burying myself in work. We had a lot to do and when the clock struck one, we decided to get one of the servants to bring in a tray of food rather than to go and eat in the dining room so that we didn't have to interrupt our business. There was an odd feeling of companionship in sharing this impromptu picnic in my father's study, a sense of camaraderie that I'd never really felt before with him, though we rarely spoke and when we did it was purely of practical matters. Perhaps he was finally seeing me as a man, not just a boy.

When a servant knocked on the door, I assumed that it was someone to pick up the tray, so I yelled for them to come in. But it was a different maid, and she was looking a little frightened.

"Beggin' your pardon, your highness," she said with a strong local accent, "but there's a man here to see you and he won't take no for an answer. He's frightenin' all the servants, your highness. We don't know what to do."

"A man?" Sometimes when people really wanted a favour from the King they'd go to ridiculous lengths to secure an audience with him – but that couldn't be it because I was the Prince, not King. I exchanged a glance with my father and he shrugged, seeming to imply that I could do no harm to find out. "All right, send him in."

"Thank you," she said in a rush, bobbing a curtsey. "He's – "

The door slammed open and someone who was clearly in a furious mood entered. He was of average height, strongly built, with blond hair and very blue eyes that at this moment were narrowed in anger. He was carrying a large wooden staff, making me wonder if he was a shepherd or something. For a moment he stood there, looking from me to my father, then he made his conclusion and marched over to my chair. I hastily stood up, not liking to feel disadvantaged, and I felt a tiny sense of satisfaction when he realised how tall I was. Nothing deterred, however, he put his hands on his hips and began.

"Where is she? What have you done to her? If she's hurt – or lost – "

The maid gave a terrified squeak and fled the room, evidently afraid she'd be blamed for letting this madman in.

"Slow down!" I said sharply. "Who are you talking about?" But even as I said it, it suddenly came to me just who he was.

"Helen, of course! I've walked for days to get here, and when I finally arrive it's to be told that she's not here – she's left. Where is she? Nobody knows! And if I find out that you had something to do with it I'll kill you, I don't care if you are a crown prince – "

He doubled his fists and glared at me, and while I didn't care for his tone I understood his anguish. "Father, will you excuse us for a moment?" I said politely, quietly reminding my visitor that he was in the presence of a king. He reddened slightly, but made no other sign of recognition. My father raised an eyebrow at me, asking whether I thought it was safe to be alone with him, but I nodded. I was reasonably sure that he wouldn't attack me – though if he did I wondered if I'd be able to best him.

"This way, please." I led the way into the small room next door, and turned to face him. "I take it you are George?"

"Who else would I be?" He was edgy, feeling the contrast of my expensive clothes and the beautiful surroundings with his patched trousers and worn shirt.

"Nice to finally meet you."

"Drop the gentleman act," he spat. "Where's Helen?"

"She wrote to you?" I wouldn't admit how that made me feel a sting of jealousy. Was George the one she had wanted to go to for comforting?

"Yes, she told me she'd had enough and she wanted to go home. I got here this morning and asked after her at the servants' door and they told me she'd left – no explanation. So I went to her Aunt Lynne to see if she had gone there for the night – no, they'd not heard from her for a good few weeks. Where is she? And why has she gone? I know you had something to do with it."

"Why do you keep saying that?" I didn't like how possessive his tone was when he spoke of Helen. She was mine.

"Because she wrote to her parents all about you. Oh, she never said anything improper, I can assure you that. But it was all 'the prince said this' and 'the prince did that'. I knew you'd be trouble. What have you done to her?" His voice rose almost to a shout.

"Nothing! She left of her own accord," I snapped, the pain of her departure suddenly returning. "She didn't even say goodbye to me. She left me a shoe."

"She what?"

"Never mind." I sighed. "I don't know where she's gone. But I don't think she'll come back."

George raised both hands to his head and rubbed his forehead. "She must have gone home. It's the only place she knows."

"But why didn't she wait for you?"

He gave me a look that clearly stated his dislike for me. "You don't know her at all, do you?"

I tensed. "Don't give me that. I know her better than you can imagine."

"Is that so? Have you lived with her for four years?" Damn, he had me there.

"No, but I've slept in her bed," I shot back, and immediately wished I hadn't: his face turned brick red.

"You what?"

I stepped back, slightly panicked. "Stop, wait, that came out wrong. Nothing… nothing happened. She just had nightmares."

He'd stayed where he was, but he was clearly itching to get his hands round my throat. To be honest I didn't blame him. But that didn't stop me from feeling ever so slightly smug at having one-upped him.

"And I suppose she kissed you, too," he ground out.

"That's none of your business," I returned, and then realised what his implication was. "You've kissed her?"

"None of your business," and he gave me a tight smile. I was starting to feel extremely aggravated, and however hard I tried to hold onto the fact that Helen had danced with me, had kissed me, had cried on my shoulder, I couldn't stop picturing her doing all the same with this country bumpkin. "Such a typical royal brat," he was muttering, and I clenched my jaw.

"Excuse me?" I said with overly exaggerated politeness.

"You don't even care, do you?" He turned back to me with a fierce light in his eye. "You've had your fun with her and now you've decided to drop her and she's gone but you don't even care if she gets lost, or hurt…"

I crossed the distance between us in two swift steps and pushed him back against a wall. A tiny part of the back of my brain was screaming at me to retain my royal dignity, but the rest of me was only aware of what he had said. For the first time, he looked a little unsure of himself as I towered over him. "Don't you say that," I growled. "Don't you dare say that. I care more for Helen than you can possibly dream of, farmer boy."

"Oh really?" He stuck up his chin, insolently. "Then why did she run away from you?"

I dropped my hands and turned away, frustrated. "I don't know, all right?" I exclaimed. "I told her I loved her, and she left me!"

There was an awkward silence. I half-expected him to hit me, but to my surprise he sighed, walked over to me, and clapped me on the shoulder. "I've been there," he admitted. "She did the same to me."
I looked up, not sure whether this was comforting or otherwise. "She did?"

"Aye, she did." He twisted his mouth ruefully. "Poor Helen. She's had a lot to deal with. No wonder she didn't wait for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Helen always wants to do what's right, and she hates hurting people. But she gets frightened easily, and when she does her instinct is to run away. Let me guess. She told you she couldn't love you because you're a prince and she's not a princess?"

"Something like that."

"It sounds like her." He thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know what we should do next, but our first priority is obvious. We need to find her."

I nodded. "I know, but I don't know where she lives or which way she would've gone."

"I do. The quickest way to the border is through the Mydan Forest. I came through it myself a couple of days ago. Nasty place." He was trying to be casual, but I could see the worry in his eyes, and I myself felt a clutch of panic again.

"The Mydan Forest? But that's crawling with bandits! She'll never be safe on her own…"

"Aye," he agreed with me. "That forest is no place for a girl by herself."

"Then we have to go – now – who knows what could happen to her?" I was frantic, trying not to imagine the million ways in which she could have met her death by now.

George nodded. Then, to my astonishment, he stuck out his hand. I stared at it stupidly. "Truce?" he said simply, with a grin. "Til we find her, at least."

I felt a new-found respect creeping over me. He was a good man – I could see that, however much his presence annoyed me. "Truce," I said, accepting his handshake.

"Right. You got a horse?"

"Two of them."

My father was none too pleased with my announcement that I was going out for a ride and would be back by tonight; but he didn't try to stop me. I guessed that either he had an idea of what I was planning to do, or that he just felt I needed time alone. George and I set off as soon as we could saddle up two of the palace horses.

We rode for hours. It was exhausting, but neither of us spoke: probably George was as preoccupied as I was by Helen's safety. Whenever we passed anyone on the road we'd ask if they'd seen a girl of Helen's description, but no one could give us any information. As the hours passed and the sun began to set, fear gripped me ever tighter until I could barely breathe. Where was she? I just wanted to hold her again and tell her to never leave me.

At last we reached the fringes of the forest, where a large, comfortable looking house was snugly settled among the trees. "What's that?" I asked, and George brought his horse to a standstill and dismounted.

"It's an inn. 'The Traveller's Rest'. I stayed there two nights ago. Likely Helen did too."

"We'd better ask, then."

"Aye. Come on."

The innkeeper was a large, motherly-looking woman who greeted George with a smile. "Come back for more, 'ave you?" she said with a chuckle.

"Not exactly," I said before George could reply. Her eyes turned to me and she gasped.

"Your 'ighness! What an unexpected pleasure – I apologise for not bein' ready – "

"Not at all," I brushed her protestations aside: "We are here for information only. Have you seen a girl?"

"Short, long dark hair, big green eyes," put in George.

"In a hurry. Frightened?"

She looked from one to the other of us and her eyes widened. "Well, yes, I 'ave. She slept over, last night…"

I resisted the urge to grab her fat shoulders and shake the story out of her. "What happened?"

"She turned up real late. Lucky she caught me – I was dozin' in front of the fire. She was all eyes – looked terrified, poor thing. Says she needs a place to sleep but she only 'as a piece of silver. Well, I don't usually do this, but I felt sorry for 'er, I did, so I says no problem, you can stay and no questions asked. She reminded me a bit of my daughter," she added pensively. "Anyway, she left early. I didn't want 'er to. Told 'er over and over, there's been bandits pickin' on unwary travellers, and anyone on their own is either foolhardy or just plain stupid. But she wouldn't listen. So she's gone. I 'ope she's all right. Pretty little thing she was."

George and I wasted no more words. "Thank you," I got out, and then we were running back to the horses and urging them to a gallop, all the time knowing that we could be too late.