Evening came quietly, a muted orange glow in the west that pushed away the remainder of the storm. The light of Christine's attic dimmed until replaced by candles—no call for any angelic magic. And still we talked. Two girls, not an angel, not a servant, in a dark attic lost in conversation. How long had it been since I had experienced such a thing? My inability to recall would have broken my heart save for the wonder that the conversation was happening.

I had never been asked to tell my life story to anyone, not even by Wyatt who merely picked up things here and there via my presence and the occasional story or question. But Christine had demanded it. And what was more she listened to every word, with the rapt attention of an obedient child. Indeed, she was hardly more than a child, but at the moment that quality was a benefit to her and I found myself loving her all the more for it.

As time passed the topics changed. My short life had eventually come to its end and I suppose the same was with my story. Christine expressed no interest in the details of Heaven, which did not surprise me. I had seen her outside the house and life was her focus. Just as well. I would never understand the preoccupation with just what happened after death when the knowledge would come soon enough to everyone. As it was, she eventually spoke of herself, and I listened. And when that story ended other stories crept up: books we had read, our disgust with Melissa and her daughters, various little things we had seen various people do.

Was it proper for angels to gossip?

Though I did not think much of it, some small piece of unsaid conversation remained in my mind. Wyatt. I imagined the same held true for Christine. But what was to be said of him that either of us wanted to say?

Nothing in particular had been said when Christine finally gasped and turned her large eyes to the window as if it were the only timepiece of any importance. "Dinner! Oh, heavens, I completely forgot!" She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her skirt.

I rose, too, in recognition that the irresponsibility was partially my fault. Some fairy godmother I was. "I should have said something! Instead I just talked and talked."

"No, no, I'm the one who started it." She blew out the candle and raced through the darkness to the door. "I didn't even finish… anything today. She is going to kill me, they all will, I know it." She threw the door open, still rambling on as I followed her out. "Though why no one came up to yell at me I don't know."

We charged down the stairs, myself finally rendered invisible. But the house seemed empty. A few candles flickered here and there, but the moment Christine's feet stopped the house buzzed with silence.

"Where are they?" she muttered.

But several moments later brought the faint sound of voices. A door slammed as Melissa and her daughters entered the house. "What you were thinking, riding that horse, didn't tell a soul where you were going… Christine, where are you?"

Christine, once more the obedient child but without the charm, bounded around the corner. I closed my eyes, imagined a hearty meal ready on the table, and followed.

Grace sat in a chair just inside the door, face twisted in pain. She once more wore braids, now sloppy. Her sister sat beside her on the floor, hands wrapped around Grace's ankle. Melissa stood above both of them, her face pale with both worry and anger.

"Yes?" Christine said after taking in the sight of Grace.

"You need to run to town. Grace was to be back hours ago and when we finally set out to look with her we find that she has fallen off her horse and done who-knows-what to her foot. So run to the city as quickly as you can and fetch a doctor or anyone who would know something about this. Is dinner finally ready? I imagine she'll need something in her. Just a fine thing to do before the ball."

So they had found out about the coronation ball already.

"Good, you have it on the table, I hope. I can smell it. Now, go, hurry. Amelia, find some cloths for wrapping."

Amelia straightened up. "Why should I—"

Melissa rolled her eyes and pointed harshly to the hall. "Because Christine is going and I said so!"

Lip trembling and eyes burning, Amelia rose.

Meanwhile, Christine was out the door. Perhaps it was my duty to follow her, but I figured she could fetch someone on her own, so I turned my attention to Grace. Her boot was off, and her ankle was swollen and red. I knew next to nothing about the medical arts, but mending it would be a snap, if I so chose. Angels were not necessarily meant to fix everything that went wrong in lives. But I was not sure I saw my lack of help in such a noble light.

"What on earth were you doing out there?" Melissa asked as she pulled out Grace's braids with surprising tenderness. "That storm had come out of nowhere and you picked that time for your horseback riding."

"I like riding, Mother," Grace replied through clenched teeth. "I wanted to see the storm. I thought it was pretty."

"The ball is next week, you silly girl. Next week. You were to be presented to the Prince. Prince Wyatt. My dream for you."

"Funny. I could have sworn it was your dream for Amelia."

"Don't talk like that. You are both my gems and you have as much chance of being Queen as does Amelia." She put a hand on Grace's forehead. "At least there is no fever."

"Prince Wyatt would never look at us. I'm sure he'd prefer an alliance with another kingdom."

Melissa sniffed. "Look where that took the royal family. You're nobility, Grace. You and Amelia have as much chance as anyone. Perhaps better. And now you've gone and ruined it."

Grace's smile was slightly less pained. "Perhaps the Prince will take pity on me. I might stand out."

Melissa laughed out loud. All argument between mother and daughter was gone in that moment. "You're right, darling. Providing you can travel, we can certainly make this work to our advantage."

Amelia returned with cloths. "Here you are. And what are you laughing about?"

"Nothing," said Grace. "Just wrap my ankle, please."

"You know you won't go to the ball like this."

Another round of laughter.

"We're hoping my tragedy will get the Prince's attention," Grace explained. "A poor subject, injured but still wishing to attend his coronation."

"And then he'll see me, the helpful sister."

I did not understand it. The competition for my Wyatt was there, but neither sister seemed threatened by the other. There was a closeness in this despicable family I could not help but admire, but at the same time I was struck by how it seemed such a game to them.

The dinner my magic had prepared was eventually eaten as Melissa and Amelia cared for Grace. Finally Christine reappeared with an elderly man she introduced as the doctor. His report was that Grace's injury was nothing serious.

"Pity," said a now-familiar voice behind me.

I sighed as I turned around. "Bernard. Good to see you again."

He bowed to me, once more the perfect gentleman.

"You pushed her," I realized. "You pushed her off of her horse."

"I did."

"You could have killed her."

"Killing people is no longer my line of work." He said them so simply, those words. Words that did not belong on such a kind face.

The doctor was assisting Grace to her room, Melissa and Amelia helping. Christine had vanished. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I would never kill the girl. The all think of it as an accident. Grace was meeting someone. A man, if you must know. Don't know the details of that, but as you can see the Crown is what they all want. But Grace is quite lovely, as is Amelia. It won't do to have either of them upstaging Christine at the ball."

I had an urge to strike him. "What will you do to Amelia? Throw her from a window?"

He smiled warmly. How could he show such a smile? "I thought you didn't like this family."

"I don't. But…" I had no reply.

"Angels. Don't worry. I understand."

I took a deep breath. I did not need the air, but the habit calmed me. "You said early, you were here for me."

He nodded. "I'm here to help me."

"By hurting people?"

"Incidentally. You'll see. Go find Christine."

"Christine? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Plenty. She's upstairs, looking through her father's things. Go find her."

I did not wait for him to disappear, though I imagined he would. I just left.

I found Christine in a little room in some vague corner of the house. I was not even sure how I arrived there. But upon entering I could not imagine how I had never sensed the place. The ceiling was low and there were no windows. Instead the walls were filled with shelves and dust and books. It was a treasure trove.

Christine sat on the floor, motionless. A box of old correspondence sat next to her. In her lap were several letters.

"Christine?" I called.

She did not reply.

"Christine?"

She looked up at me, startled. Her eyes were red. No tears, only shock. "I found something," she murmured, handing me the letter. "I had never seen the box. I told you I would have to look through my father's things. I came up here, and some books fell, and… I found the box."

Bernard, I thought. Push a girl, push a box. I took the letter.

The gold has been received and the exchange was never seen. I send you this message with the same security.

I am now in Tamenrook, awaiting the arrival of the royal family of Sunelle. I expect them in several days. I also expect Lady Melissa to be in the party as you have assured me.

I will expect the rest of my payment back in Sunelle.

--G. G.

I felt frozen. G. G. Gavin Gray. Without a word to Christine, I turned the letter over. It had never been placed in any official envelope, but held together with a mere dollop of wax, no seal. It looked ordinary enough, nothing worthy of attention.

A name was scrawled across the back, the name of the recipient.

Bernard Davrel.