As if I were stuck in a nightmare I watched them, as over my mind fell a haze that told me in a lie these were two entirely different people. A wealthy merchant and a respectable daughter of a small home. A traveler and a gypsy. Ghosts. I breathed in that thought like air and wanted to choke it out as I grasped the horrible truth. The horse stood stoically in the rain, ruffling its mane when the water drenched too much. One of Wyatt's hands grasped the reins, as if he were prepared in a moment to simply jump back on the horse and ride off to wherever had been his original destination. In the rain. Who in his right mind would ride a horse in the rain if they could help it? Christine faced him, looking for all the world liked a little soaked flower. Their bodies were so close a large and accidental move was all they needed to touch. Was I jealous? Was I not allowed to be?
Again like in a dream I moved toward them. I realized my feet moved—I of course made them move—but it seemed I was only assisting in the necessary. I barely felt the grass, cold and slippery against my ankles. I barely felt the rain. I saw everything clearly, at least Wyatt and Christine, two figures trapped in a haze. He had helped her. That was all that was needed. I was far away, and certainly by the time I had reached him all pertinent conversation would have ended and each would be once again on different ways. I was not running; I only felt dizzy, too lightheaded to walk. And ahead of me, just beyond a grassy rise in the ground dotted with wildflowers, Wyatt and Christine continued to talk and their voices softly and slowly reached me.
In no time I stood before them, invisible. Invisible. What a word. With a sudden burst of consciousness I realized that I could have stood between them naked for all the world to see and they would not have noticed me. Invisible was what I was. Yet I stood not three feet away, one to my left and the other to my right, silent and angry as rain poured through me. I could not think, save for a tiny but guilty notion that this was not behavior appropriate for an angel. Their voices were all I could hear.
For the first time outside her home, Christine looked authentically demure. Her eyes met Wyatt's most of the time, but she could not hold her gaze long before it dropped to the ground with a secret smile. It was a smile I recognized all too well. Had I not worn the same smile myself? In the presence of the same man? Was that not my right to hold that stupid smile? She was not talking at the moment, just listening. I would have so much preferred for her to do the talking. Rather than Wyatt, who refused to get on the poor horse no matter how long he hung on to those reins. At this proximity he was even closer to her. That was not right. He was supposed to be by me.
"It's a wonderful story," he was saying. His fingers rubbed the leather of the reins. I would not have been surprised if he up and gave them to Christine. Let her ride the royal horse. "It's probably not as refined in writing as some of my counselors would recommend, but the story itself is good. Something that the ladies, I suppose, would love."
Christine laughed softly. Nothing flirtatious, at least not the coquettish giggles of before. "Prince Wyatt, it seems as if you would demean what people read."
He returned the laugh, and a faint blush ran over his face. He was so handsome. Every time I saw him it was if I had forgotten how handsome he was. "I try not to. If I do, it is because my poor mind has been trained to absolute snobbery. Though I admit that one can only read so much history and philosophy and government papers."
"My father kept histories for you, if you recall."
Wyatt's smile vanished away.
"I happen to be absolutely fascinated by history." The flirtation was back, a small portion of it. The rest was thoroughly real. With a bite. Christine was incapable of keeping back that bite.
"I'm sorry, Christine, I meant no offense. The histories of the kingdom were wonderful and—"
Christine burst out in laughter, nearly doubled over with it. I could have seen it come a mile away. Wyatt was a visage of confusion for a good ten seconds before he gave way into laughing as well.
"I'm sorry!" she said with a sudden end to the mirth as she tossed back her sopping mop of hair. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't resist."
"You're unfair, Christine. You are unfair."
She shook her head, eyes sparkling enough to light up every raindrop on her face. "It's not everyday I get to bend royalty to my will." More flirtation. And yet she seemed to be utterly obsessed with it. The conversation was a not a quick game. "And I can't assume to tell you what to read. And yes, I have read that book. Three times. I keep a copy under the washtub."
Wyatt rose an eyebrow. "Interesting place to keep a book."
"It's a horrible habit of mine. I keep books everywhere. My favorite hiding spot is in the flour bags."
"Isn't that messy?"
"I'm in charge of the cooking. It's messy, but I simply blow it out and it's wonderful at keeping people out of my things."
"And these things happen to be books?" Wyatt moved ever so closer to Christine, so much that I wanted nothing more than to reach out and tear him away from her.
The flirtation dissipated and shyness returned. I could not understand these changes in her. It was like a swing. "I love reading," she said simply. "If I could choose one thing in the world it would be reading. Sadly, I have to steal time for extra reading, but I manage to get it done. My father kept books and I inherited all of them. I assume you like reading as well?"
"It was turned my way," he replied.
That was true. Wyatt had been a decent enough reader before he had met me, but my own habits were similar to Christine's if not worse. To love me Wyatt had to love reading. To think of the many afternoons curled up in his lap with a book while he either napped or read over my shoulder!
Christine gave a tiny laugh. "Turned your way? You make it sound like a disease."
"Perhaps it is." He returned the laugh. "A good disease, but it is for me. I don't exactly have time to waste on reading. My chief advisor finds anything outside the aforementioned sciences silly. He's a good man otherwise."
"Perhaps you will have to turn it his way as well." She moved a soaked lock of hair from her eyes just as another clap of thunder punched against the sky. This time she did not scream. "Prince Wyatt, I think I should be getting somewhere dry."
"Women." Wyatt said the word like an insult, but a smile was still on his face. "Can't handle a little rain? Why, I've been to countries where this is considered a spring mist."
"But it's not spring. What kind of country did you visit? They must be fish there. Strange walking fish people."
Welcome to Tamenrook. Just how would Christine survive there? Being afraid of a little thunder."
Wyatt's smile softened. "The people there are… very nice, actually. Besides the rain the land isn't very wild."
"Not like us northern barbarians." Christine paused a moment. Thinking, based on her expression. "May I ask why you went there?"
Silence. The horse shook water from its nostrils. Disgusting, almost. "I think we should find some place dry," Wyatt finally said. "Is your home nearby? Is it that house over—"
"No," Christine said quickly. "I live further out. Miles, in fact."
"And you are all the way over here?"
She rose her head gallantly and shook her out. "Yes, I truly am all the way over here, as you put it. Is it questionable for a girl to travel so far by herself? Without an escort? I know that the ladies of your palace need to have escorts and I can appreciate that but a common girl like me? Why, I can sneak around with the best of them."
Wyatt laughed. "I would not put it past you. Though I would like to remind you that I was the one forced to rescue you, damsel in distress, when you fell."
"I slipped on wet grass!"
"Actually, I would prefer to call you clumsy."
"Your Highness, you are terrible."
He only grinned. "Well, I can offer you a ride back home."
"Thank-you, but I am perfectly capable of walking."
She was perfectly capable. I would to see to it that she would come to no harm. Wyatt did not need to assist her home. That was not his duty. I watched him closely. Even through the rain I could smell him. He smelled like the rain, only not.
"I can't allow a citizen of my kingdom to come to any danger if I can help it. Especially when I am about to be crowned King. I'm sure your death at my irresponsibility would be frowned upon."
"You could always hide my body."
"How can I hide it if you become lost out there and die among the trees? No one will ever be able to find you."
"Until years later when some poor child comes across dead and bleached bones."
Ugh. What a disgusting image.
Wyatt continued to smile, but he said nothing.
At least Christine was wise enough to notice the awkwardness. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That's really a horrible thing to say. I shouldn't… we should be getting out of the rain soon. I've kept you too long from wherever you were going."
"I was simply going for a walk. Just like you."
"I think it's about time for such walks to end." Her fingers found their ways to her hair, where they began to braid the wet snaggles. "I need to be going."
"Let me take you home."
"I can't—"
And, as the entire universe worked against me, he grabbed her hand. There it was, her tiny little work-work hand trapped inside his leather-gloved palm. "Please. You told me it was miles. I as a gentleman cannot allow any woman to travel so far."
I wanted to do something. I had to do something. This entire scene was taking place before my eyes and I was powerless. I did not exist here.
Christine did said nothing for a very long time. Finally, she gave the tiniest of nods.
Neither of them spoke. He simply helped her onto his horse and took off on a steady trot. Not the romantic race across the wet landscape I had expected and dreaded, but an almost slow pace.
They continued not to speak.
I followed. I had no other choice but to follow. It was the Prickling, but not quite. But Christine still needed me. Why in heaven's name did she still need me? The obvious occurred to me. I, as Angel, had told Wyatt clearly that Christine worked for Melissa. I was quite certain he knew where Melissa lived. He knew that was her house! Why would he take them both so far out of the way?
It was like death all over again, without the light. My only light came from the sky that split into seams with every crack of lightning. The grey sky was the lid of a coffin. I followed, but I did not chase. They stayed in front of me. I could not see what they were doing. And I, like a sad little puppy, drifted behind.
In the end, the situation was almost humorous. Out of some desperation Christine pointed to an old abandoned cottage lying among the willows. I suppose it was romantic in a dismal way. A bright little pixie girl living out among the trees and flowers and no doubt woodland creatures. At this point I was worried with Wyatt if he believed this was truly her home.
And he said as much. He helped her down and said, clearly, "That was your home back there. You work for Lady Melissa."
Christine blushed. "You… knew that about me?"
"Your friend told me."
She stared at the ground. "I'm sorry I lied to you."
"I'm sorry I dragged you out here."
I was sorry I was there at all.
"Take me back?" she asked.
More time together.
He stared at her. "I really must be going this way. It's… it's important. I can't explain it right now. But I know this cottage. You'll be warm and dry here. I would pick you up again shortly."
"What about your duty as a gentleman?"
That was flustering. He bit his lip. "I... if I must."
I stared at Christine, unsure of what I wanted her to say."
"No," she said finally. "I'll wait. Do what you need to do."
"I'll be back as soon as I can, Christine."
"And I'll vandalize this room."
He laughed. "You'll be fine. Farewell." He set off back along the trail. So much of me wanted to follow him.
Christine turned around, unsurprised that I stood before her visible. It was unnerving.
"Fawn," she said. 'I have to go that ball."
