The room King Cherdith had given Lake and William was, by all means, quite nice. They had been in nicer rooms, of course, but then again they had been in worse. It was large enough, with lovely, expensive rugs and a tapestry of a ballroom scene on one wall. Besides, the chamber had large poofy pillows wrapped in blue velvet all over the couches and beds. Lake had always had a weakness for poofy pillows.

"You see, Papa," she said brightly while testing the pillows' durability between her hands. "These are nice. If we ever bothered to purchase blue velvet, I'm quite sure I could make some of these."

William was pleased enough by the supper cart one of the servants had pushed in. "You've never shown an interest in blue velvet before. I thought red was your favorite color." He sampled the broiled fish. "At least we're getting a good supper before they send you off to be tortured."

It was true that red would be a preferable color, Lake thought as she studied the pillow currently in her hands. "Well, it's the pillows that I like. Color doesn't matter." She tossed the example onto the floor with the rest of them.

"Then why, my darling daughter, did you have to bring up blue? Specifically blue?"

She climbed onto the bed nearest the pillow pile. The mattress was softer than she had expected, and it was all she could do to keep her balance. "Papa, forget about it. I will take any color under the rainbow, as long as it's velvet and will lend itself to some decent pillows. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a pillow properly poofy? But you don't know a single thing about sewing, so of course you have no idea. Such a tragedy. It's even more difficult to keep the pillows poofy. It's about strength. They have to be able to take use and abuse!"

William smiled serenely and helped himself to another bite of fish. To be honest, they had used a little too much oil. Oh, well, it was tasty enough. Lake could bake a little more than decently, but the fact remained that cooking and baking were two entirely different pursuits. "I take it you're referring to the abuse that you are about to pour upon them right now?"

She flashed him a bright grin and wrapped her braid around the rest of her hair like a piece of string. "What else would you expect from me?" With a made-up cry that must have been stolen from some tribe she leaped from the bed into the pillow pile, where she sank deeply.

William gave a smattering of applause.

"Whoa! Well, they are plenty poofy." Her head appeared, dizzy smile spread over her face as she struggled to her feet. "I should do that again!"

A knock sounded at the door. "Miss Miller?"

"Ahh!" Lake flopped over the pillows and landed in a heap. "Night time already?"

William shoved another sliver of fish into his mouth. "Apparently so."

Was she supposed to answer the door herself. Lake doubted she had the wits about her to do so. She rose to her feet, this time without falling again, and stumbled to the door. "You realize, Papa, you could help out here."

He shrugged. "I'm only the one that has the gifted daughter."

She stuck her tongue out at him and opened the door.

The face of the perky guard from the throne room. Behind him stood His Majesty King Cherdith VI himself.

"Wonderful to see you again!" the guard said with an impressively deep bow. "I am here to escort you to the room in which you will be spinning. Such an impressive talent! I would love to see you at work. His Majesty also wishes to accompany you."

Goodness me, Lake thought. A king and a friendly guard all at once. She remembered the appropriate girlish blush and giggle. Oh, and she mustn't forget the curtsey. "I do hope my work pleases you, Your Highness."

King Cherdith still looked taken with her--in a fatherly way. That was a relief.

"I will say that His Majesty King Cherdith has high taste," the guard continued. "But the entire palace has been gossiping about your talent and gossip isn't exactly silenced around here as quickly as some might want it so--"

"That is quite enough, Peter," the king said, shoving the guard out of the way. Peter had a laugh written all over his face, but moved regardless. It was all Lake could do to keep herself from laughing. The king instead offered Lake his arm, smiling kindly. "Ignore Peter if he ever bothers you. I'd get rid of him if he weren't such a good guard. And was willing to check my meals for poison. Are you quite ready to begin your task?"

She gave the most darling shrug she could hope for. "If it is what Your Highness wishes, I am always ready. It isn't so difficult, I suppose."

King Cherdith laughed deeply. "You really are a dear girl. I should introduce you to my son, if you haven't bumped into him yet. He enjoys having a rather random run of the castle. Never quite sure where he is at." He led her away from the door, which Peter closed, and began a trail through the halls. "He likes scaring people."

Don't I know it, Lake thought with some amusement. It wouldn't surprise her if Prince Isaac picked another moment to jump out and declare another murder. That would be funny.

"I think it would be hysterical, Your Majesty, if we did stage a disaster for the Prince's degrading," Peter said as if reading her thoughts.

The king laughed again. Lake wondered if there were anything at which he did not laugh. "Miss Miller--"

"You can call me Lake, if you wish. Your Highness."

"Lake, then. Lake, I am sure this is all strange to you. Many peasants think that life in the royal palace is so much more grand than it really is. This must all strike you as frightening, that we can act so casual."

"Life in the palace has always been a mystery to me, good King." Good King? Did that sound humble enough? Well, it was cute and it had worked before. "I have had a hundred different dreams of what it must be like." The truth was that she had seen pretty much everything, from high snobbery to royalist doing chores.

"So this doesn't surprise you?" asked Peter. "So much the better."

"Peter, you really are scaring the young woman."

"Sorry, Your Majesty."

"But she really is a quaint little thing, aren't you, dear?" He patted her arm. Lake was beginning to feel like she was six years old. This would make for a great story. "Well, here is the room in which you will be working." They stopped before an old door with rusted iron hinges. Lake wondered how far they had walked.

"I'm so excited," she said. "I will try my absolute best for you."

Peter opened the door. It looked like a dungeon. A dungeon filled with straw. Were they going to lock her with chains? That had happened before. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud. "It's the best spinning wheel we could find in the palace, Your Majesty." Shouldn't he be talking to her?

Lake slowly tottered in and stared at the bales of straw with reasonable fear and apprehension. "Oh, my. This is quite a lot." Not really.

Peter and King Cherdith did not follow her in. "Someone shall come for you at dawn," the king said.

Peter grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it with a match. "Good luck, girl."

And then they locked the door.

Lake finally let out the laughs she had wanted and made her way to the spinning wheel. She could spin about as well as any other girl, just not straw into gold. It always amazed her how many people believed that such a silly thing as straw could possibly turn into earth-made metal. She gave the wheel a good spin. Yes, it was a good spinning wheel. If only she had some wool or something, she could occupy herself until Jay appeared. Good old Jay.

The torchlight flickered, and she found herself staring at the shadows on the wall. They changed with every bounce of the flames. She could make up stories. A tragic girl, running from an evil stepmother, lost in the woods... what a lovely story. The woods were there on the wall, so was the girl. And that shadow. It flickered horrifyingly. That shadow could be the wolf that ate her. Yes, it was a remarkable story. Now to make up another one.

Her eyes noticed the straw. Or she could just jump in the straw. She balanced herself on the stool next to the wheel and jumped. Not as nice as the pillows, but fun enough. She took a deep breath and dove through. She loved the way straw smelled. Where in the world did all the straw always come from, she wondered. Were there animals in the barn going hungry? None of her business. She pushed herself up and lay back on the straw, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

There was something nice about being locked in a room, something that always had appealed to her imagination. The shadow story she had just made up had ended tragically enough, but that was always in mocking. For now she could pretend that a wicked witch had caught her and she just had to find a way out...

Her thoughts faded away.

A human voice trickled through the stone walls, singing. A male voice. It wasn't Jay's, she knew his. Besides, her brother couldn't sing. She closed her eyes and relied on her ears to pick up what they could. The song drifted in and out, almost clear enough for her to understand the words for just a few moments before fading away again. It was a talented voice, certainly trained.

A ghost, she half-wondered.

No, she had to stop pretending. Someone alive, and in the palace. Not that a ghost couldn't be inside the palace. But definitely alive. The King? Peter? Another guard?

Maybe it was Prince Isaac. Maybe he was pretending to be the ghost. That thought made her smile.

"Lake..."

She screamed and rolled off the pile of straw. The stone floor beneath hurt. "Jaybird!"

"Hey, you're supposed to wait, not sleep." Her brother extended a hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Well, you were taking your own sweet time."

"I had to come from the barn." He did not say that as a joke.

She laughed. "What in the world were you doing in the barn?"

He shook his head and made his way to the spinning wheel. "The servants in this palace like to imagine that they run the place. This girl Caroline decided it would be the perfect place for me." He closed his eyes, picked up a handful of straw, and tossed it at the spinning wheel. Threads of gold dropped to the floor.

"You were caught?"

"It isn't like I haven't been seen before," he retorted. He frowned at the spinning wheel and turned to the piles of straw. In the early days Jay had always needed something to focus his magic through--a spinning wheel--but had progressed past there. "Though I will say it is annoying when they lock the doors and windows. You know how I hate walking through walls."

"You used to love it, Jay." She sat back as he concentrated. Last time it had taken twenty minutes, tops, to create the illusion of gold.

"Yes, well, it's hard. Now shush."

Half an hour, Lake guessed, when the work was finished. Not Jay's best work. Still, it was interesting to watch. He would concentrate, and almost instantly the straw would turn into an illusion of gold, stuff that would never last longer than a week before the magic and the straw itself disintegrated. But until then, or better said until dawn, they had a pile of soft gold/straw to lie on. And stare at the shadows on the ceiling.

"So," Jay said nonchalantly. "How is the King? Do you think he will be the type to propose marriage?"

Lake made a face. "Much too old. And looks old. Not like Papa. Who, by the way, has found a recipe for fish that he likes. But he does have a son. The marriage will probably be proposed there."

"You do realize that will break Timber Wood's heart."

"Eh, he'll get over it." Timber was an awfully cute little boy. If she had been his age... but she wasn't, so he would have to break the heart of some other infant.

"Have you met the Prince, then?"

"Yes. He startled me in the hall."

Jay laughed. "You're easy to startle. Well, is Prince Boy worthy for a simple country maiden to simper up to?"

Lake considered it. Prince Isaac had not been the ugliest prince she had ever seen. "I think he'll do, should the King want us married."

"Lake, there has been a total of two times when you were never proposed to."

"And they had already had their mistresses. Tell me about the servant girls. You mentioned a Caroline."

"They were evil. I would rather not talk about them."

She kicked his leg. "Oh, yes you do!"

"Sorry." He rolled over and instantly went to sleep.

She would never get tired over pestering him over women. But a nap would not be a bad thing.

She didn't wake until dawn, when pounding came at the door. "Hey, girl! You finished the gold yet?"

She opened one eye and pushed herself up. Jay was already gone, and the torch was barely burning. "Huh?"

Whomever was at the door sighed. "The gold. Aren't you the girl that spins the gold?"

"Don't yell at her, Hyrum," came the king's voice. "Miss Lake, we're unlocking the door."

Well, the gold was finished. She had accomplished quite a bit, if she had actually done it. "I hope you are pleased, Your Majesty."

The door swung open, and King Cherdith's face instantly lit up. "My girl!" he declared. "You really are incredible!" He instantly picked up gold thread in his hand. "It is gold! See, Hyrum?"

The guard only looked mildly interested. Grey eyes swept briefly over the room. Of course. It was Peter's sleepy companion from the throne room. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Lake giggled and curtsied. "You must see it." She took the liberty of dumping a few thread's into Hyrum's hand. That startled him, and he dropped it. "This has to be the weirdest thing I have ever seen."

"I find it wonderful," the king said. "Lake, my girl, let's go get you and your father some breakfast."

Hyrum just rolled his eyes.