Emma trudged up towards the gates of her father's castle. Snowflake followed, close behind, as if ready to catch up his half-conscious mistress. Her only thought was to get to the castle. From there, she would let events unfold as they may.

As she reached the front door, she raised a hand to the large bronze knocker. As she pulled it down once, twice, her hand slipped from it. The combination of everything that had happened settled around her, and she lost consciousness, just as the old housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, reached the door to pull it open.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As the crowd continued to shout at the Duchess, Dominic was getting ready to set off after his fairytale princess of the mysterious riddles.

The man called Frederick de Winter watched as he went to get a cloak, among other accoutrements, in preparation for the ride. Just as he was about to go out the door, he turned to him.

"You know who that princess was?"

Frederick gave a strange smile.

"She's hardly a princess."

"Then who is she?"

"Don't you think that if she had wanted you to know that, she would have told you herself?"

"She didn't want me to know anything," Dominic growled, almost to himself.

Frederick had heard.

"Perhaps, then, there was a reason for that."

"I—"

"Yes, I understand that you are indignant. However, I feel that if you are to go somewhere, you must know where you are going."

"Do you always treat your sovereigns this way?" Dominic retorted. He was getting tired of this man's habits.

"Only when I know something they do not," Frederick stated simply, again smiling.

"And what is it that you know?"

"She will be at her father's castle. I assure you, that is where she is to be found."

With these words, he gathered up his own things and started for the door.

"What, and you are just going to leave like this, after having made such a terrible accusation against a well-known woman?" Dominic accosted him.

"My concern no longer lies with that lying viper. I must see to my bride," he paused long enough to say.

At this point, Dominic did not know what to think. The surprises simply continued.

"W-wait!" he called, catching up to him and touching him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" he queried, not bothering to slow down or turn around.

"She is your bride?"

"Oh, yes. We have been engaged for quite some time, indeed. More than three years, I should say. Now, by your leave, Your Highness, I really must go. As you yourself saw, she was in no condition to ride, and the roads are a mess," he finished, with an exaggerated bow.

"I will come with you," Dominic stated.

"Your Highness—"

"No! Your Prince demands it. You must grant it to him," he interrupted.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, with a resigned sigh. "I go to find my bride and the love of my life…"

"She is not only the love of your life," Dominic said.

Frederick did turn around at this point and stopped in his tracks.

"Are you in love with her, Your Highness?" he asked, his tones truly hurt. Who could compete with a Prince?

"I am."

"Then, perhaps we should let Lady Emma decide?"

"Yes." A pause. "Her name is Emma?"

"Yes, Your Highness, Emma de Winter."

"Very well. Let us set off, then. I will send for my guard after we have reached this castle."

"Yes, Your Highness," Frederick said dully. The light had gone out of his eyes and he no longer seemed so self-assured. Emma was surely out of his reach.

The yells in the ballroom had subsided somewhat as they departed, riding in the direction of Snowflake's route.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When Emma awoke, she found herself warm and in a soft bed.

"Mistress Emma!" a hearty voice exclaimed, as she blinked a few times to get used to the sunlight pouring in through the window.

Wait. Sunlight? Through a window? But her room had no window…

She sat up in the bed, throwing the layers of blankets off, trying to understand her surroundings. Suddenly, she remembered the night before, her wonderful dance with the Prince, and the shocking events that unfolded as she attempted to flee. Was the Duchess truly a murderess? She knew her to be wicked and heartless, but to stoop so low… And who would she have murdered, anyway?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the owner of the hearty voice, Mrs. Williams, who was rushing over with more blankets. Clearly, she wanted to see Emma floundering in fathoms of these before she would be satisfied.

Emma recognized the warm face immediately.

"Mrs. Williams!"

"Yes, Mistress Emma? Oh, do lie down! Doctor's orders, I must say."

"No, no! Mrs. Williams, I am in terrible trouble. I must go, I must hide, I must---Ahh!"

"Nasty wounds, aren't they?" Mrs. Williams glowered at nobody. "That terrible woman. I always knew she had it in her. I tried to warn the master, but it was never truly his choice, anyway."

Emma was truly confused now.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, this news of the Duchess having poisoned his Lordship."

"WHAT!"

Mrs. Williams looked away, as if to avoid the shocked glance.

"They say she conspired for his money. He had never made a proper will, so all of it would have gone to her. And she was poor to boot, when he married her. Nobody knew that."

"My pet, if we had known, if we had only known…"

"But how do we know now?" Emma asked, her eyes, still wide from the revelation.

"Your cousin, Master Frederick."

"Who?"

"Why, your uncle Edward's son."

"That terrible boy who always pulled at my hair and shot at innocent birds for fun?"

Mrs. Williams allowed herself a fond smile.

"Boys will be boys…"

"But, I still don't understand," Emma said, interrupting the brief reverie. "How did he know? And why did he choose to reveal it now?"

"I had no choice," a tenor voice spoke.

She looked up at the door to see the handsome man from the night before. Yes, somewhere deep inside his eyes, she recognized the chubby boy who had insisted that his cousin was not worthy enough to play with him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You asked why I chose to reveal it now."

"I did."

"My travels were at an end. I had returned to England, only to find my cousin's life in shambles, perhaps even ended, while the Duchess grew fat on my uncle's monies and properties..." He clenched his fists. "I never knew she would go through with it."

"With what?"

"Murdering your father, of course!"

"I don't understand, sir."

"Don't you see? She had decided he was to die from the day their engagement was settled. She even offered me a part in the murder, knowing that I would inherit little money, thinking to tempt me with part of the prize. She was drunk when she made that offer, but she remembered enough of her conversation to threaten me on the next day. I left that afternoon, fearing for my own life, never daring to think that my beloved uncle's was in danger."

Emma was in a rage now.

"You as good as killed him!" she screamed, throwing aside the blankets so she could get near him and tear anything she could from him. "You knew she planned to, yet you said nothing! You fled, fearing for your own skin!"

As she ran at him, he grabbed her arms and kept her at a fair distance.

"I did what I believed myself capable of doing. Emma! Listen to me!"

She stopped struggling, if only because she wanted him to loosen his grip.

"Who would have believed me? Think about it! I was a boy of 16. I had no reputation, no credibility. To say that an honourable Duchess, in an intoxicated state, had offered me a part in such an infamous murder would be to hang myself on the spot. As for staying, I have no doubt now I would have died mysteriously very quickly."

"But why now?"

"Because the news of your father's death, and yours, has reached me only now."

"Mine?" she gasped.

"Yes. Nobody knew what had become of you. The popular theory was that you had died of grief."

Emma's rage had settled, to be replaced by grief. She began to sob quietly, hiding her face in her hands, not wishing for anybody to see her in this state of weakness.

"I am to blame, Emma, I know it. That thought will haunt me until the day I die."

"Oh, Freddy," she moaned, using a nickname from childhood, "but how can it be true?"

"I am sorry to say that it is."

"There is no proof."

"There is plenty of proof, Emma. What did they tell you when your father died?"

"A disease. A strange disease took him."

"No, Emma. They knew it was poison. A slow-acting poison. The physician has provided the records. They did not know who had poured it, that is all."

"She will never confess." She was no longer sobbing, but tears continued to fall.

"She already has. She will be hanged summarily, Emma. Somebody had to accuse her and provide sufficient evidence."

"What evidence?"

"An unsigned letter, written to an apothecary, in her hand, asking for a slow poison which acts as an agent of disease. She fainted clear away when she saw it and later confessed to writing it. That apothecary had died shortly after your father did."

"But I don't understand how you got such a letter…"

"I spent the last three months tracking it down. I knew that there had to be some proof, else I would seem a fool."

"Last night…?"

"The King's ball was perfect. She could be caught off-guard, and seen by half the kingdom at once."

"But… you knew me…"

"I knew your gown."

"What?"

"The gown you were wearing was the greatest pride of your mother, or so my father loved to tell me when he showed me her portrait. You looked so like her last night in that gown. Wherever did you get it?"

"I—" Her source was indeed strange.

"Never mind. There are more important things to attend to. First and foremost, your health. I must see to it that you are better before the wedding."

Just when she thought that nothing could surprise her anymore, something did.

"Wedding?"

"Yes, Emma. I must admit, it is unfair of me to thrust such a choice upon you at such a time, but, in all honesty, I am not nearly as eager to hear your decision as he is."

"Who is 'he'?"

"Your Highness, I beg an audience with you!" Frederick called at the door.

Emma fell back in shock as the Prince, that same prince she had danced with and teased last night, stepped into the room, looking extremely sheepish, his fine clothes soiled with a night's difficult journey.

Frederick smiled, but in a strained manner, as he bowed briefly to Prince Dominic. He then turned to Emma. "Again, I apologise for the unexpected decision you must make, but… which of us would you have as husband?"

A/N: Well, when it rains, it pours. And it is pouring out of me right now. I feel as though I have to let all of you know what happens next. Then and only then will I sleep soundly.

I am so grateful to all of my reviewers. Just to know that you are not only reading, but taking the time to let me know what you think, means more than I can say.

To Saffie: I agree with you, it was too easy. I guess I was thinking of how quickly mob mentality can build. I am sure, too, that the Duchess did not have a lot of friends in that crowd and most of them would be only too happy to see her hang for murder. As for Frederick's persuasion, there is more to that than it seems.

To InChrist: I have escaped the wrath of Cadmus-Aedan, I hope! Certainly, this was as quickly written as possible, considering all of the packing I am doing for University!

To LauraShrub: So pleased to know you were happy with this chapter. Maybe you will like this one even more!

To ObsessiveCompulsive: Yes, Frederick is quite a character. In fact, he doesn't even belong in a Cinderella story, I should think. He took a wrong turn somewhere at "The Juniper Tree" and totally missed the sign for "The Snow Queen"… Hehe..

As always, I give you my love and await your many wonderful reviews!

-Titania