My name hung in the chilly air, a strike of lightning all its own with the force to split the sky. My name was not to be said like that. Not by Fawn, not by Bernard. Wyatt was one of the select few meant for my name, but his voice with that name was a second knife wound to my heart. He had said it to himself, to me, in prayer, to Evan in privacy. I loved the way he said it, the barest flexing of his voice and intonation. His eyes would have changed. I knew that much. I had not seen them, but I knew they must have shown something, a flicker of my memory.

Yet all my adoration of Wyatt and my name could not sweep away the fact that he had just spoken my name to Christine. I whirled about, though what I intended to do I did not know. I saw the surprise on Christine's face, the next unspoken question. Change it, you fool, I thought silently to Wyatt. Change the name. Give me back my secret.

The mist clung to Wyatt's dripping hair as he continued. "The day of the engagement ball. I imagine you've heard that story all ready. She was ready to be a queen. She was beautiful, smart, perfect. She was just what my father desired in a queen, but she was much more than that. Fawn was my best friend. I loved her." He flicked away the mop of water drenching his hair.

"She must have been very beautiful," murmured Christine. She looked ever so much like a ghost, more than ever before, pale and pristine in the rain. Or a nymph, emerged from the rain itself. She was beautiful. How could she call be beautiful? "May I ask Your Highness what she looked like?"

Wyatt smiled. Pure happiness. "Her hair was brown. Pale brown curls about her face. Her eyes were brown as well. Just like a fawn. Her body…" He cleared his throat. "My apologies. This is hardly appropriate to speak to anyone. Christine, thank you for listening, though. I'm sorry to bore you with the past--"

"I wasn't bored. Trust me. I find it fascinating."

"Once again, please come to the ball." He took her hand and kissed it. "I want to see you there, more than anything. I must go. I've taken enough of your time."

Christine said nothing, but gave only a slight nod. Her mind seemed elsewhere.

Wyatt climbed back onto his horse as another set of lightning tore over the sky. So much for the storm dying out. "Goodbye, Christine. Till another day."

"The ball." It did not seem to be her voice speaking.

He smiled at that. "Yes, the ball. Please come." And then he pulled the reins and took off slowly, constantly glancing back at Christine, who was like a statue before the house, dripping and silent.

But as soon as Wyatt disappeared from sight, she shouted my name. "Fawn!"

I appeared. I did not know what else to do. I was weak before her.

Her eyes were wide and hurt. Her entire body seemed ready to shake. "You," she said softly. "You."

"We should go inside," I replied.

She agreed by throwing open the door and dashing inside. I ran after her, exploding into the house's sudden warmth, a stifling contradiction to the storm outside. Whatever chores she had left were forgotten as she took to the stairs, feet thundering up into the eventual darkness of the attic.

So I beat her there. The attic was a return to the old cottage. Rain splattered just above me in a hypnotic din, and the rainy mist seemed ready to seep through the window. I stood in the middle of the room, suddenly terrified.

Christine quickly burst through the door and flung herself into the pathetic mess of a bed. Her arms supported her as she gasped into her blankets. And I waited. Was that not one of my duties? Wait and help?

Finally she was ready, and she rose to sit, hair tumbling and snarled down her back and front, eyes red. "You are her."

I closed my eyes. I could not reply. I did not know how.

"Fawn. You are Princess Fawn. You are her. Answer me. You must answer me."

The secret was no longer mine. I nodded.

"And just when were you going to tell me? Fawn, look at me. Please."

I unshut my eyes. Brown eyes. Like a small fawn in the woods. "What do you want me to say?"

She shrugged. Her lovely hair was like straw. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. I don't understand any of this. Is he why you're here? Did you come for Wyatt?" She did not bother with the title of prince. "Are you here for him and not me?"

"Christine, listen," I said. "I didn't…"

"What am I, then?" She climbed to her feet and began to pace the room. "An innocent pawn in your game?"

"I don't have a game."

She nodded and choked back a sob. "I know. I just… he said your name and everything then made sense and I didn't know what to think."

"I don't know what to think, either." My voice sounded calm. Did I really feel so?

"You should. You're the angel. My fairy godmother. Shouldn't you know everything? You found me. You said you were here for me." She stopped at the window, her hand pressed against the glass. "You were my friend. Why didn't you tell me?"

"My life was over, Christine. I'm here for your life. That's my duty. That's why I am here." Perfect response. Sympathetic, selfless. Just what an angel was supposed to say. "My life is over. Heaven, the spirit world… it's beautiful. None of this is supposed to matter anymore."

"Supposed to. What does that mean?"

"You're jealous?" The words came from nowhere with my voice.

She sighed and turned back to me. "No. I am not jealous. I can't feel that for this. I just want to know if you knew."

I felt so odd there in the attic, standing in the middle, motionless. And yet my entire body buzzed. "I did not know. I saw you in the village. I followed you here. I knew I was supposed to help you. I didn't know why, I didn't know how. I did not know you worked for Lady Melissa. I met her once, when I was alive. The day before I died, in fact. And then I saw Wyatt."

She sucked in air.

"Christine, you were first. You are first."

For a long moment nothing happened. The rain battered against the attic roof, the only stillness in that space. Then she threw her arms around me and squeezed me tightly. "Fawn, I am so sorry."

"It's not your fault," I replied. That moment, for the first time in a long time, I felt like what I was supposed to be. The angel. The fairy godmother. "It's no one's fault. No one did anything. I'm just here to help you. I don't know why."

Christine stepped back. The puckish smile was back. "There must be a reason, Fawn. There's always a reason. Think about it. You loved Wyatt. You were meant to cross his path again!"

"I don't think it works that way."

"Then what do you call it? Chance? An accident?" She spoke quickly, the words tumbling excitedly from her mouth. "Things can't happen that way. Not like this. What are the odds? My father… he believed in fate. He saw too much as a historian, too many strokes of luck or tragic blows. You are meant to see Wyatt again."

"But I've seen him! Many times since then! You have me deliver him a letter."

"That letter!" She threw back her head and sighed. "Oh, no. You spoke to him. I made you speak to him. Why did you let me do that? Why didn't you say something?"

"It doesn't matter. What about you?"

"What about me?!" She sat on the floor, legs crossed under her skirt. "Fawn, please tell me about your life. Tell me about you."