Once again, Ysabel found herself waking up the day after a party and feeling terrible. Before, she had been ashamed of what she had said to Astir, not knowing that he was the prince. But now she felt bad for what she hadn't said. She knew now, beyond a doubt, that he really did love her. But her own feelings were confused. She thought that she just liked him as a friend, but her heart hurt when she thought about him hurting and she wished she could make things better. But she didn't know how.

When it came time to return to work, she went with a heavy heart and dragging feet. But burying herself in the book stacks and occupying her mind with a research project was a good distraction and her anxiety lessened.

. . . Right up to the point that Samis looked up from his book and said, "Gracious! I think we've missed lunch. I wonder where His Highness is today?" He laughed. "Without him to keep us on schedule, I think we might work until past dinner."

Ysabel felt her heart sink to her feet and her anxiety returned. Samis was right: it was past time for Astir to be there. Was he showing his displeasure—and hurt—by absenting himself? Perhaps he was of the opinion that if he couldn't have Ysabel as a wife, then he wanted nothing to do with her at all.

But she could hardly blame him for not wanting to continue to be friends with her when just being around her reminded him of what he wanted but could never have.

Samis summoned a servant and had lunch delivered. Ysabel was silent, worried the entire time that he might ask her what she had done to drive the prince away, but he didn't seem to be bothered by Astir's absence and he told her some of the stories he had come across during his tenure there. He seemed to be glad to hear his own voice after spending so many hours silent, so Ysabel let him run on, occasionally nodding to show that she was still listening.

Ysabel's mind stayed on Astir the rest of the day and all the following morning. She didn't fail to notice when lunchtime rolled around—and passed—but Astir still failed to appear.

"I must admit, I miss His Highness," Samis told Ysabel; "he's such a cheerful young man, he really brightens our lunches, doesn't he?"

Ysabel nodded a little, fear clamping down on her innards; she just knew Samis was about to accuse her of driving him off.

"But," he said, turning back to his plate, "we can't expect to see him every day. Duty calls." He started to cut up his chunk of beef roast. "I wouldn't be surprised if Lord Addison has said something to him—told him to focus more and play less. He's a good man and I think he's done very well by our prince, but I think sometime he's a little too hard on him. He has always expected him to act like a grown man. He doesn't let him have enough time to play or have amusements, like other boys and young men have. And gods know he never had any playmates. Even now he has no companions, except you."

Ysabel nearly choked on her food. She felt so guilty, she very nearly confessed everything to Samis, but he continued to talk and the moment passed. But still, she was so upset the rest of the day, she barely accomplished any work.

That night, she slept poorly, so she came into work the following day feeling even worse. Even Samis finally noticed.

"Ysabel, are you alright?" he asked around mid-morning.

"What?" she asked, startling out of her thoughts.

"Are you alright? You've been staring into space for a long time."

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing herself up straighter in her chair, trying to wake herself up and focus her mind on her job.

"If you're not feeling well, you can go home," Samis offered. "I can handle this by myself, if need be."

"No, I'm fine," she said absent-mindedly. "I just didn't sleep very well last night."

"Oh," he said knowingly. "I have nights like that. I understand."

Ysabel hoped against hope that Astir would show up for lunch, but she and Samis ate alone again.

"Gosh, I hope nothing serious is going on," Samis remarked. "I wouldn't have expected His Highness to stay away for three days running. And not even a note of any kind."

Ysabel suddenly stood up; she had barely touched her lunch. "Do you mind if I step out and get some air? I really need to wake up."

Samis looked little startled. "Well . . . certainly. Of course. Are you sure you don't want to go home? At least get a little nap and come back this afternoon?"

"No, I'll be fine if I just get up and walk around a little."

"I understand that. I sit too long here myself."

Ysabel hurried out before Samis could continue the conversation. He was a dear man and she really liked him, but he spent so much of his time alone, when he had a moment to talk, he talked her ears off. He hadn't been like that so much when Astir had been visiting, though; he had allowed Ysabel and Astir to make their own conversation.

Maybe he felt a need to fill the void left by Astir so that Ysabel didn't feel lonely and abandoned. Little did he know that it was Ysabel who had left Astir feeling that way—even though it hadn't been intentional on her part.

And that did weigh heavily on her. But, truth be told, she had been up most of the previous night because she was consumed with loneliness, not guilt. She hadn't realized, until he was gone, how much she had come to appreciate—even depend—on Astir's company. No one else in her family had her love of history. Her father shared her introverted personality, but he was a man of so few words, it made conversations rather one-sided most of the time. Her sisters, on the other hand, were friendly and chatty, but they flited from one meaningless thought to another and they had no desire to discuss a subject in depth, as she did.

Only with Astir could she have a meaningful conversation for hours. Only he understood what she liked and thought the way she thought.

They were kindred souls—the first she had ever really known—and his absence made her unbearably lonely.

She found herself randomly wandering the hallways. She thought about finding the little garden where Astir had taken her, but she wasn't sure of the way. And, really, that's not where she wanted to be anyway—despite requesting some fresh air.

She took the main staircase up to the second floor, then hesitated, unsure if she should really be there. The work of the castle happened on the first floor. Only the Council chambers and the War Room were on the second floor; all the rest of the floor was for the royal family. The third floor was for advisors and guests. By going up the stairs, she had gone from the public to the private—a place she wasn't sure she belonged.

She walked down the hallway to the nearest guard.

"Excuse me, but I need to find His Highness. Where might he be?"

"I'm not entirely sure, ma'am, but I haven't seen him come past here today, so he might still be in his room."

"Where is that?"

If he found her request unusual, he didn't show it. "Second door on the left."

"Thank you."

She went down the hallway a short distance until she found the second doorway on the left. It was pretty clear that it was the prince's room because there were two guards standing outside it.

"Is His Highness in?" she asked the guards. "I need to speak to him."

These guards were not quite so quick to give her answers. "You work in the Archives, don't you?" one of them asked, giving her a look-over.

"Yes. His Highness asked about something and I have an answer for him," she said suddenly. She meant to lie, but as soon as she spoke, she wondered if her words were really lies after all.

"Just a moment," he said. He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

"Enter," came a reply from inside.

The guard opened the door a little. "Highness? Are you available for business?"

"Yes, yes," he replied dismissively, sounding irritated. "I always have time for business. It's what I live for."

The guard opened the door wider and gestured for Ysabel to go through. When she stepped inside, he shut the door behind her.

She looked around. She was used to the wealth of the palace, but the anteroom she was in was another level of opulence. The walls were white and heavily ornamented with strips of glowing silver. She didn't want to think about what it took to keep the walls polished.

"Well, what is it?" Astir asked, not even looking at her. He was sitting at a large desk beside a narrow window. It was covered with papers and he was obviously hard at work writing something.

Ysabel felt even sadder, seeing him like that. He didn't sound like himself at all. She wondered if he was always so frazzled and overworked and his lunches with her were the only break he had during the day, or if he was in a bad mood because she had rejected him.

She was silent so long, he dropped his quill and turned to look at her. "What . . ?" As soon as he saw her, the annoyed scowl on his face melted away and his eyes lit up.

How had she, of all people, come to have that affect on him?

"Ysabel!" he said, sounding excited and hopeful and astonished all at once. "What are you doing here?"

"I . . . I . . . um . . . we haven't seen you in a few days," she said, rather lamely, "and Master Samis was just wondering if they were working you too hard . . ." Her words trailed off. She felt foolish trying to blame the worry on Samis when it was her who had really been worried.

"I have as much work as I want," he said rather enigmatically. Then he sighed and leaned against his desk. He looked away, then looked at his feet. "I haven't behaved very well lately," he said, still speaking to his feet. "In fact, I've been an ass."

"You haven't," Ysabel insisted.

"I have." He finally looked up at her. "I've been sullen and ill-tempered with everyone and I've been avoiding you. I said that I would be content to be just friends, but I haven't been acting like a friend to you." He half-smiled. "In fact, I've rather been acting like a spoiled prince who can't have his way."

Ysabel didn't know what to say to that.

"Forgive me," he said, his blue eyes sincere.

"You don't owe me an apology, Your Highness. You can't help the way you feel."

"No, but I can help how I act. And, like I said, I have been no real friend. I've punished you for telling me the truth—the truth that I dragged out of you." He smiled a little again. "You have more sense than me—I see that now. You have sense enough to not speak when it would be hurtful to do so; I insist that you say what you know will hurt, then I am hypocrite enough to actually be hurt by it."

He looked at her for a long minute, as if drinking her in. "I've been working a lot to forget how lonely I am," he admitted at last. "Seeing you makes me realize how much I've missed being around you. Truly, I would rather have you as a friend than not see you at all."

"I'll marry you," Ysabel suddenly blurted out.

Astir looked as if he hadn't understood what she said. "What?" he finally asked.

She could have asked herself that. She hadn't intended to say that at all. She wasn't sure what she had planned on saying, but that very definitely hadn't been it. But now that it was said, she didn't want to take it back.

"I'll marry you," she said, feeling nervous, but excited at the same time.

Astir continued to look confused. "Are . . . are you serious?" he asked.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Yes."

"Ysabel, you don't have to marry me to spend time with me. I promise to be a better friend to you. I haven't had a lot of practice with it, you know, so you'll have to forgive my mistakes from time to time . . ."

Now it was Ysabel's turn to start feeling confused. She expected him to be over the moon that she had finally agreed. "Do you not want to marry me anymore?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't want you to marry me just because you feel like I've . . . like I've emotionally blackmailed you. I don't want you to say 'yes' because you feel some sort of obligation . . ."

"It's not that at all," she said. "I just realized . . . I missed you when you were gone. And the thought that you might not come back bothered me."

"We can be together as friends," he offered.

"If that's what you want . . ."

"No, I'd much rather get married," he hurried to say. "But I want to make sure that's the way you feel, too."

She took another deep breath. "I do."

He studied her closely, his eyes scanning for some sign of a problem. "You don't seem too sure," he pointed out.

"I told you, I would marry you if you weren't royal," Ysabel replied. "It's the title and the job I'm not too sure of, not you." She smiled a little. "I'm sure of you. I'm certain of that."

He stood and limped over to her, then took her hands in his. "I don't want you to be miserable," he said seriously.

"I've been miserable the last few days without you. I can't imagine being queen could be worse." She pasted on a smile. "Besides, isn't this what every girl dreams of? Marrying a prince and being crowned a queen?"

"You're not just any girl."

She actually chuckled a little. "You know, my father said the same thing not too long ago."

"I'm glad we're all agreed." He reached up and touched her face—his fingers soft on her cheek. It made a little shiver run down her spine. "I know you don't want this," he said, almost whispering. "The crown, I mean. I know you would much rather be with your books and your research—a quiet, normal life. I can give you a lot of things, Ysabel, but I can't give you that. But, I promise," he said, his voice growing more earnest, "I will do everything I can to make this as easy as possible for you. I won't ask you to co-rule with me and I will make it very clear, from the beginning, that your appearances are to be kept to a minimum. You can still work in the library—maybe not full-time, but regularly enough."

She actually chuckled. "A queen working in the library."

"My queen," he corrected. "And I wouldn't have her any other way."