Grace may have been having herself a little fling, but that very fling was heading toward my Christine. My eyes followed him, wondering what he was intending, whether or not I should panic. Grace let it go, squaring her arms in resentment before returning to her other suitors' attentions.

The hunter (for I was now thinking of him as such) was gallant, even handsome in his way. Would Christine recognize him? Would he recognize her? Though that latter question did not matter in light that he still gave her his attention. He bowed before her, perhaps one of the finest bows I had ever seen in form but yet maintaining churlishness.

I went closer.

"May I have this dance?" the hunter asked.

No recognition in Christine's eyes. "Certainly."

Should I stop her?

But off they went in the whirl of the dance. She was a wonderful dancer. Where had she learned the art? Though it appeared with her to be less skill and more natural talent.

Perhaps he was harmless. Useless to Grace, but otherwise harmless.

Wyatt had joined in the dancing with Amelia of all people in his arms. But his eyes were not on her but on Christine.

Jealously. I felt the delightful spark of it myself. This time on Wyatt's behalf.

"It's such a beautiful ball," Amelia purred, her voice floating to my ears over the crowd.

Wyatt scarcely seemed to hear her. "It is indeed."

The song ended and the next one began. Wyatt ended his dance with Amelia, who looked quite put out by that, and began to once more make his way toward Christine.

The hunter had let her go, though his eyes were still with her. Another gentleman took her next.

Without thinking I became Angel. A lovely Angel, with hair done up and a flowing blue dress. Nothing nearly as wonderful as the work I had done for Christine, but nice to say the least. I placed myself in Wyatt's path.

His smile at me was real. "Angel!"

I giggled and curtsied. "Your Highness."

Oh, but he was handsome. He looked at me with all the innocence of a little boy before sputtering out "Well, I suppose I'll have to ask you to dance now."

"I'd be honored."

His hand slid around my waist, fitting there so perfectly. His other took my hand. Angel was tinier than I ever was, and I nearly gasped at how small my hand felt in his fist.

I couldn't remember dancing with him before.

"Ideally, I suppose, I'm to ask every girl here to dance," Wyatt said conversationally as he danced. He was not too bad, and I followed along the best I could. Angels were not blessed with such an automatic talent. "I don't know if that's possible, unless this ball continues into the wee hours of the morning."

"I will just count myself glad to be among those that do get to dance with you!" I said with a laugh.

"It's an honor for me, Angel."

"Your Highness, I'm a servant."

He shrugged, smile broadening.

I suspected what he was thinking, and I could not help but smile myself. "Christine is a servant."

"She's also the daughter of a great historian."

"Higher blood than me."

"No. She is a servant now."

"I'm simply going to have to dance us closer to her for your sake, I see."

Wyatt laughed.

"I hear things, Your Highness." And I did not want the hunter coming back.

"May I ask you a question first, Angel?" he asked.

Anything to stay in his arms longer. I nodded.

"I've… heard something."

"That's not a question."

The smile was gone from his face. "I only ask this because I trust you, Fawn, and I know that you will not break that trust. What would you say if I told you I suspected Christine's late father was involved with Fawn's death?"

Just the question I had anticipated. I feigned shock. "What kind of question is that?"

"Keep your voice low," he commanded, though he was doing worse than I.

"Is it true?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to find out?"

A pause. "I don't know."

"But you're all but infatuated with Christine! What do you think this means?"

Speaking of whom was not far from us.

Wyatt still held my hand tight. "You can't tell her I've heard this."

"She knows nothing. She was so young when her father died."

The tiniest smile reappeared on his face.

I studied that face. Such a handsome face, and he had bothered to shave. I wanted so badly to remove my hand from his shoulder and touch that face. "You need to dance with her."

"We're close enough. I'll be King within an hour or so. No one will be able to stop me."

"You'll still dance with her, then."

This time he squeezed my hand. "She excites me."

"Really?"

"I haven't felt like that since Fawn."

I continued to watch him.

He shook his head and sighed. "No, that's not right. It's different. It's completely different. What I felt for Fawn was different. This is different and it's different than what I feel for you and—" Color crept into his face.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"The song will end soon, Angel."

This time I couldn't help it. My hand flew up of its own accord and touched Wyatt's cheek. He was so warm. He did not flinch at my touch, but… "Christine is very beautiful tonight."

His gaze left me and went to Christine.

And then it was back, like lightning. My errant hand returned to his shoulder. The last notes of the song fled the instruments.

"Thank-you for the dance, Angel."

The gesture was so brief I scarcely could trust its existence. He kissed me, quickly and gently. He then pulled away and stared at me.

"Wyatt," I said, no other phrase attached.

"I'm so sorry." He dropped my hands and stepped away. "I should not be so presumptuous, especially after talking about another girl."

I put on my best smile. That was easy. I was glowing inside. "I'm flattered. I've stolen a kiss with the soon-to-be-King."

He smiled, face warming with relief. "I'm glad, then."

I breathed in deeply and let it all out. The smile could not be cut from my lips. "Well, then. You're in practice. Go!"

"You're sure I haven't insulted you?"

"Hardly! Go! You'll have to fight away other suitors for her!"

He backed away, grinning like a madman."

I could not explain it. That one short dance, that tiny kiss, was all I needed. The intoxication of the entire ball could not rival what I felt. Like fire it pumped through me, thrilling me, as I watched Wyatt all but force himself over to Christine.

No one would dare contradict the Prince, and Christine looked as if she could melt.

Probably looking ridiculous, I made my way over to the wall. A silly grinning servant girl who happened to be a dead princess.

The hunter had rejoined Grace, and her corner of admirers had been cleared. She must have said or done something for even her mother had vanished. She had propped herself up as best she could, and the hunter's leg was pressed against hers, her hands in his.

"Are you sure?" he said.

I made myself invisible.

She nodded emphatically. Her eyes were shining as Christine's were. "I'm sure. I don't want it anymore. I want you."

"The kingdom, Miss Grace."

"I want you," she repeated. "He's barely spoken to me, only offered his sympathies. I was silly."

"You can't be sure."

"It would never work anyway. I love you."

He smiled and squeezed her hands.

"Don't you love me?"

"Grace, I do love you. Why have I stuck around so long? But this is what you wanted."

"Not anymore. Just let that girl go. The Prince can have her. I don't have to be Queen. The Prince cares nothing for me. You care for me."

"I do," the hunter replied, and I doubted his sincerity, though Grace was too starry-eyed to notice. "But what do you see in me?"

She laughed, and her voice became flirtatious. "You're exciting. Dangerous."

"A storybook character."

"Don't trust him," a voice whispered next to me. Bernard, though I could not see him.

"Exactly," said Grace.

"I never trusted him," I said to the voice of Bernard, wherever he was.

"He won't stay here with Grace."

"I must go, though," said the hunter. "I promised you."

"I release you from that promise," said Grace, but the hunter had already stood up.

How was I to stop him?

"Stop him!" Bernard's voice commanded.

I started after him, but there was not much I could do, even think of doing. Christine and Wyatt's dance had ended, and as they drew apart the hunter took his position. Another eager suitor, desperate to beat the prince in dances with this engaging young woman. Why could I do nothing? Was I not an angel?

Wyatt did not pick another partner. The ladies flocked around him, but he only watched Christine.

They were not dancing.

The hunter had her hand, as charming as imaginable, and led her toward the door.

The Pricking came. I was supposed to do something.

I bolted after them, caring little for the rush of people past me. But the Pricking was painful, insistent that something was wrong even then.

No. I couldn't let him leave with Christine.

I closed my eyes. God, what was I to do?

I opened my eyes. Like a single candle in a dark room all I noticed was Wyatt. Wonderfully, darkly jealous, no dance partner in sight, stomping the other direction.

Wyatt.

I changed directions and ran after him. He left the room through a small side door. For servants, I imagined. I became Angel. "Wyatt!"

He stopped and turned. The hall was dark, not a single light. "Angel?"

I could scarcely breathe. "What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I feel so stupid." He turned his back to me. "She's a servant. Possibly the daughter of a murderer."

"She had nothing to do with that."

"She leaves with someone else."

"That's because she can be an idiot," I said fiercely, taking his hand.

"I should have conquered her attentions for the rest of the night. Danced with no one else."

I laughed. He was not angry. Only jealous as I had expected. "Go after her."

"That would not be proper."

Propriety had nothing to do with it. "Wyatt, go after her."

He smiled wanly. "You instruct me as I'm not your prince."

If only he knew how right he was. "You love her."

"Possibly."

"Then go after her."

"That would be foolish." He shook his head. "Me. Worrying about the reputation of a common girl. What if she doesn't care for me? She enjoys this ball far too much. Leaving with a perfect stranger."

I wanted to smack him. How would that be in relation of my gentle touch of earlier? "She's in danger."

He snorted. "She is not. Nothing will happen to her. She'll receive a few stolen kisses and be back. And I'll dance with her again. Will that make you happy?"

"No."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Angel." He turned to the ballroom.

No. It had to be him. All I felt was that it had to be him going after Christine and the hunter.

"Wyatt, stop!"

"What happened to 'Your Highness'?"

"Wyatt."

He finally turned.

In that moment the music slipped away into nothing but a drone in the distance.

I stared back at him, my light brown hair spilling in curls down my shoulders.

No longer Angel.

He shook, and for a moment I feared he would fall. "I…"

"Shh," I said.

For a long time he obeyed, time I should have used to make him listen.

"I saw you. I knew I saw you. Fawn."

I wanted him to say my name again. "I hoped you would have seen me."

"I don't understand," he whispered. "I'm dreaming."

I smiled. I hoped he would recognize my smile. "You need to go, Wyatt. Christine needs you."

"Fawn." His face was pale. I imagined he still thought he was dreaming.

I wanted so much to stay where we were, he and I, in that little servant hall. He had spoken my name, spoken it to me.

"I'm so sorry." He took a step towards me. "Fawn, I'm so sorry."

He was so close I could touch him. "I never blamed you." What was I doing? I had a universe of conversation for him. I could have spent eternity speaking it. "Listen to me. Go after Christine."

And I disappeared.

Wyatt stood in the hall, trembling. For a long time I did not know what he would do.

But he straightened and turned. And then he ran back into the ballroom and straight through it.