When tragedy strikes, people are changed. At first, the change comes as a horrible shock. It hollows out pieces of a person's heart, reshaping that person...for better or for worse.

Eventually, however, life, once disrupted by whatever horrible event occurred, eventually falls into a sort of rhythm. From the outside, people affected by a tragedy might appear that everything has simply achieved a new state of normal. They might seem fine on the outside...when really, on the inside, they will never be the same.

After a month of searching and grieving, King Antony of Astoria finally made the official announcement to the people of Astoria that Princess Isabella had been captured and that, as of yet, they had not been able to find her.

Kade seemed to take the loss the hardest of anyone, for he had loved Isabella so greatly that it had struck him deeply. He was possessed with the desire to do nothing but search for her, throughout the day and even going so far as to accompany his spies during the night.

Antony, for the most part, remained out with the army, preferring to keep busy in order to escape the palace, for King's Palace was somehow different without his cousin. Aside from that, he would rather not see Meredith, for seeing her dredged up all the old feelings, and everything he wanted to say but didn't, everything that he kept inside and pushed away. Sleep was a stranger and fatigue a constant companion. He spent most of his time accompanying Kade. On the few times he returned to the palace, he sequestered himself away in his study.

Therese spent her days in her room, the curtains closed and the lights dimmed. It was an altogether depressing atmosphere. Olivya was her shoulder to cry on most days.

Meredith, now that Isabella was gone, worked in the kitchens with Ramona, whose frequent attempts to cheer her up were to no avail, but did not go unnoticed. Jade remained at home in King's City with Samantha and Prissy, grieving the loss of Evan. Meredith found herself looking out the window more and more frequently, wishing that she might see Antony come home, but, at the same time, dreading how she knew she would feel if he did.

Isabella spent her days, waiting, tense, in the rear of her cell, dreading the return of the jailkeeper every night. She tried to remain grateful that he only partook of rough kisses and caresses, but the night came where his drunken stupor drove him too far and Isabella was too weak to prevent his advance. Now she spent her days dreading the day Kade and Antony found her, for she knew she was unclean. Defiled and broken. She cried when she pictured herself having to tell Kade. She spent the majority of her nights, simply weeping.

Another month passed, and most everyone had given up. Most people in the kingdom had given up the princess for lost.

Her birthday arrived and citizens across the empire lit candles to grieve for thier lost princess. For no matter how short Antony's reign had been compared to the collective reigns of his grandfather and uncle, no one had any doubt that a new age had arrived for the House Westerholme. The people thought there could be no better way to honor their new young king than to grieve with him the loss of his cousin, who they viewed as someone equally worthy of honor. Nightfall saw a candle in a window of almost every house in most towns.

That night, Antony found himself at the East Wing Window, unable to sleep. Upon seeing the flickering lights from the lower town, he leaned his forehead against the glass and wept.

Meredith tended the candle in the window of their small house for most of the night.

Isabella, unable to tell the passing of time from her dark cell, spent her birthday in ignorance to the fact that she was a year older and that, outside of this prison, there were people who mourned her.

Her mind was occupied with another matter. She knew that she had missed her last month's bleeding and that it was late this month. She spent the night curled up against the wall, her hands upon her stomach, vowing that, no matter what happened to her, she wanted to protect this small life inside her.

In what she assumed was the middle of the night, in the hour when the jailer's drunkenness had turned to a sleeping stupor, she was startled awake by the voice.

***

"Princess Isabella. Princess. Please wake up."

She had not realized the moment in which she fell asleep, but having to be awakened came somewhat as a surprise to her. She propped herself up with one hand and peered into the darkness.

"Who's there?" she whispered cautiously, frowning. No one has called me princess here unless they were mocking me. Why does this seem different?

"My name is Mariah, My Lady," said the voice. Now that Isabella was slightly more awake, she realized that the voice did fit that of a young girl.

Isabella was silent, waiting for the girl to continue.

"My brother and I..."

"Josiah."

This was a new voice, one that Isabella had not heard before. It sounded as though its owner was younger than the girl.

"Yes," continued the girl, quickly. "My brother Josiah and I want to help you, but we don't have much time. Josiah, the key."

Isabella heard a slight jangling, and the girl's hurried efforts to quiet it, then the slight creaking of the door as it swung outward.

Isabella scrambled to her feet, stumbling forward, wanting to believe that these children really would help her, that she really could escape this prison.

"Come on," said Mariah, taking her hand suddenly. Josiah, on her other side, also slipped his small hand into hers. They crept quietly past the guard, then up the stairs, their footsteps becoming more and more hurried.

"There are no guards at the entrance," whispered Josiah, "because you are the only prisoner anyone cares about, and they think that one should be able to stop you if you tried to escape."

Isabella swallowed as they stepped out into the moonlight. She drank in the fresh air, not having realized how much she missed it until she had it back. How different it was from the dank, heavy air of her prison cell!

"Not much farther now," said Mariah, leading her into the forest. Josiah followed close behind.

Isabella flinched at every sound of a twig snapping, every rustle of a leaf. When Josiah tripped on a branch and fell, she held her breath, fearing their pursuit. Mariah seemed not to be too concerned, however, and simply returned to help her brother up before continuing on, a determined look on her face.

They soon came out from under the shelter of the trees and the moonlight was once again bright above them. It shone against a shoreline. White pebbles seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"Quickly now," whispered Mariah, a new sense of urgency in her voice. She hurried across the pebbles to a small boat, which Isabella only just now noticed.

"In," said Josiah, offering her his hand and assisting her into the boat. She sat uneasily in the rear of the small vessel.

Without another word, Josiah and Mariah each took up and oar and began to row the boat out onto the water.

"Where..." began Isabella. She stopped as soon as she saw the ship, silhouetted in the light of full moon, its mast standing straight and tall, its sails lowered.

After a few minutes of rowing, they reached the ship.

"Alright, Josiah," said Mariah, nodding.

Josiah nodded and gave a low whistle, first once, then twice, then three times.

A sailor peered down from the deck and immediately disappeared, only to reappear with several of his mates and a rope ladder, which they lowered.

"Up," said Mariah, curtly, glancing back at the shore behind them as she assisted Isabella in mounting the ladder.

Isabella didn't argue, but began to climb, not caring if she stepped on the edge of her dress or not; the garment was filthy and in tatters from being worn since the night of her capture. How long had it been? she wondered, as she neared the top of the ladder. She assumed two months, but she couldn't be entirely sure.

She was on the deck of the ship, and being greeted by a man, who immediately led her away from the edge of the ship.

"Mariah!" the man called softly, as the young girl boarded the ship.

"Yes, Papa?"

"Please take her below. We should be at shore by morning, God help us."

Mariah nodded and took Isabella by the hand, leading her across the deck to a set of stairs that led below deck and to a door.

***

Antony roughly pulled back the flap that served as an entrance to his tent and entered, throwing his sword and belt down down on the small cot along the side and crossing to sit on the rough-hewn bench that served as much as table as it did chair.

Kade entered soon after and began pacing the length of the tent, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Why can't we find her?!" he said, his voice full of frustration and grief.

Antony was silent, staring at the ground between his feet, not knowing how to answer his friend.

The question that had been swirling around in his mind for some time now resurfaced. What if Isabella is...He couldn't bring himself to finish the question, instead looking up at Kade as his general spoke again.

"It seems as though we've looked everywhere! It almost seems as though...as though she's disappeared!" As he spoke, Kade gesticulated, frustrated, with his hands.

"There are still places to look, Kade," said Antony, tiredly.

"Places to look?" said Kade, frowning. "Where! It seems that all we do is fight rebels and get nowhere in our search! You'd think that one of them would know something!"

Antony sighed. "Kade..." he said. "Maybe...What if..."

Kade seemed to realize what he was saying. "I can't believe that!" he said, his voice broken as he looked Antony in the eyes. "I can't give up hope. I'll...I'll go crazy!"

Antony shook his head, but said, "I understand, Kade."

***

Once inside the room below-decks, Mariah gestured to a partition. "May I assist you in a bath, My Lady?"

Isabella managed to nod and Mariah led her to the partition and assisted her in undressing. Isabella noted, in a mirror nearby, how thin she had become, except for the hardly noticeable rounding in her stomach. If she hadn't become so skinny, it would have been completely unnoticeable.

Isabella entered the warm water and Mariah gently began to wet her hair. While she washed her hair, Mariah began to sing softly. Once the bath was finished, Mariah left and returned with a towel. Isabella wrapped the towel about herself and stepped behind another partition, where a simple dress awaited her.

Mariah gestured to a chair before the mirror and Isabella sat. The young girl began to brush her hair.

Isabella finally found words to speak. "Thank you, Mariah," she said, softly.

"You are welcome, Lady Isabella," she said, nodding.

"You can call me Isabella."

Mariah smiled, and continued to brush Isabella's blonde hair carefully.

"Why are you helping me?" Isabella blurted.

"We cannot help where we are born," said Mariah simply. "So we try to make the best of it." She paused, her expression in the mirror somewhat sad. "There have been rebels on that island for many years before I was born. My grandfather was one of the first. My father was born into their life, but he did not agree with them. For certain, he thought that Rupert was a bad king, but he did not think they were going about it in the right way. He grew up and found a wife that thought the same as he did. I was born a year after they were married. When I was five, Nathan and Sawyer brought back a group of prisoners. Josiah was with them. Sawyer had killed his parents when they attempted to escape with him. He was only a baby. Sawyer left him to die upon their return to the island. My mother saved his life and he has been part of our family ever since. We have waited to do something to help you. We have been planning. I pray that we make it to shore without them becoming wise to something and trying to follow us."

Isabella felt tears coming to her eyes. "Thank you, Mariah," she whispered. "Thank you."

Mariah smiled. "You're welcome," she said.

Isabella took in this girl who had risked her life to help Isabella to be free. She was almost a head shorter than Isabella. Her tan skin was lovely and her smile was beautiful. Her curly brown hair was in one braid down her back, but a few tendrils escaped and went off in different directions.

"You should try to get some sleep," said Mariah, taking her hand and leading her to a bed in the corner.

There was a knock on the door.

Mariah crossed to answer it. She heard muttering, then Mariah's sigh, before the girl returned. "Josiah would like to say good night."

"Of course," said Isabella, smiling softly.

Mariah returned to the door and held it open for Josiah to enter.

"My Lady," he said, bowing. Mariah smirked from behind him. He looked up, grinning at her, his blonde hair falling into his blue eyes a bit. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Better than I've felt in a long time," she told him, smiling gently back at him.

"I hope you sleep well," he told her, his smile never fading as he turned and scampered back out the door.

"Sleep well, Isabella," whispered Mariah as she too left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Isabella, exhausted, fell asleep almost immediately.

***

Meredith stood in the entrance to the portrait hall for a moment, her bucket of water in one hand and her cloth in the other. The sun was shining half-heartedly through the windows; it was cloudy outside but the light seemed to be doing its best to fight through the haze.

Meredith took one step forward and stopped, setting down her bucket and rags and making her way, after a moment's hesitation, to the portrait at the end of the long hall.

She reached forward and rested her hand on the frame. The figure in the portrait looked straight ahead, his blue eyes serious and his mouth set in a straight line. It would seem a rather stern expression if not for the skill with which the portrait painter had captured Antony's real expression: the look in his eyes that, beneath his seriousness, held kindness and compassion.

She sighed, returning her hands to her sides and balling them into fists. She hadn't seen Antony, really seen him, since the night of Isabella's capture and Evan's death. She may have happened to chance to glance upon him from a distance, but it was not the same.

But he hated her now, didn't he? Because she was Borgavian? So why did she still miss him so greatly? Love him so deeply?

She looked into the eyes of his portrait, wishing, even though she knew it was worthless, that she might find answers, or something she had previously missed.

But in the end, it was just a portrait, and Antony was as distant to her as ever.

***

"Wake up, Isabella."

Isabella awakened after what seemed only moments to Mariah gently shaking her shoulder.

"We will soon come to shore, Isabella," said the girl. "We must disguise you as best we can."

Isabella drowsily roused herself from bed. Mariah led her to the chair of the night before and took hold of a pair of scissors. Isabella knew what she was going to do.

"I'm sorry, My Lady," whispered Mariah, before taking the scissors and cutting Isabella's hair. Once the deed was done, Isabella looked up and faced the mirror. Locks of her hair lay around her chair, the only evidence of the long tresses she had once had. Mariah took her hand and brushed Isabella's bangs to the side. Isabella turned her head to the left and then to the right, marveling at how different she looked. With her long hair gone, and no makeup, she looked almost as if she might pass as a skinny boy.

Mariah now brought out a boy's trowsers and shirt. Isabella went behind the partition and changed. When she stepped out, Mariah handed her a cap. Isabella examined herself in the mirror. She did look almost like a boy...a thin, pale, scared boy, with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"Try not to speak to people directly," said Mariah. "If you must speak, try to talk in a lower voice, as you might if you had a cold."

Isabella nodded.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Mariah.

The man from last night entered the room.

"Ready?" he said.

"She is ready, Father," said Mariah. The man nodded and gestured to the top deck.

Isabella followed him, as did Mariah, and they soon found themselves on the dock in Jurmala.

"We'll put you on a coach headed to Yester," said the man. "We didn't want to send you directly to King's City, because once Nathan and Sawyer are wise to your escape, that's the first place they'll look. Once you're in Yester, you'll need to buy a ticket for a coach from Yester to King's City. Stay in disguise at all times." He took a few ells and rifas from his pocket and handed them to her. "For the coach in Yester," he told her.

They led her through the maze of docks and into the town of Jurmala, where a coach was nearing readiness to depart at the end of the street. They hurried forward and Mariah's father paid the price for her seat and then nudged her forward.

"Wait!" she said, careful to keep her voice hoarse around the other people. "What is your name?" she asked Mariah's father.

He turned back to look at her, meeting her gaze. "My name is Jay," he said. He gave her a small smile and then raised his hand in a wave.

Isabella watched as Jay and Mariah disappeared into the crowd. She stood for a moment, the people moving around her, some elbowing her or bumping her as they passed.

"Last call!" yelled the coachman.

His words jarred her into action and she turned, hurrying forward and presenting her ticket without a word. The man took it and ushered her forwards. She boarded the coach and took a window seat, peering out and, though it was futile, looking for one last glimpse of the girl and her father, along with the little boy on their ship somewhere, who had saved her.

The coach lurched forward and began its slow progress through the crowded streets of Jurmala. Once they were through the town, the coach's progress sped up and she found herself settling in for sleep, trying to swallow down the nauseous feeling she felt. She laid a hand across her stomach and closed her eyes.

***

Meredith made her way home at the end of the day, feeling dejected. She no longer stayed in the palace with Isabella, for Isabella, of course, was absent and no longer in need of a companion. Meredith, therefore, had moved in with her family at the small house in King's City that Antony had gifted them with before Meredith revealed their secret. She supposed it was kind of him to allow them to remain in the house.

She tiredly opened the door and entered. Supper was on the table for her. Everyone else had already eaten. She washed her hands in the sink and sat, taking the bread before her and half-heartedly dipping it in her soup.

Nash wheeled his chair into the room just then and came to sit next to her.

'Hey, Mer," he said, smiling.

"Hello, Nash," she said, forcing a smile of her own. "What have you been up to today?"

"Nothing much," he said, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. "Mer?" he asked.

"Yes?" she said.

"When's Antony going to come visit me again?"

She sighed. "King Antony is...busy...Nash. With the army. I don't think he'll be able to visit for a long time."

"Are you worried about him? Is it dangerous, what he's doing?"

"Yes," she said. "I suppose it is. But the king know's what he's doing. He's trained for this."

"Mer?" he asked.

"What, Nash?"

"Do you think Antony will come back someday?"

"Someday, Nash, I hope that all of this fighting will be over and the king will be able to return to King's Palace."

"Do you think they'll find Princess Isabella?"

"I hope so," she whispered, setting her bread down. "I hope so..."

***

Nathan had seen the slight figures emerge from the prison the other night. He had guessed what was happening.

However, he had turned his back and pretended that he had not seen it.

He had then waited for the time when Sawyer would inevitably discover what had happened and pursue the princess. A part of him hoped that his right hand man would be too late to catch her.

A flash of memory...his cousin, only a baby, and him, aged nine. He had gotten to hold her. He had felt powerful, then: he had the power to protect this innocent baby that had been placed in his arms. How bad of a job he had done...

But he had come to hate them...hate them all. Or at least he thought they did. When none of them had recognized the abuses of Rupert...when none of them had stopped the king. When none of them had rescued him...

He was jarred back to the present by the barking of dogs.

The door to his makeshift hut was swung open without a knock.

Sawyer.

"She's gotten away!"

***

Isabella awakened when the coach arrived in Yester. At first, she was confused. It was dark, and she couldn't see much in the dim light of the coach's interior.

Gradually, however, she was able to make sense of what was happening around her and she heard the coachman shout to the Yester Gate Guards that they wished to pass. Soon they were safely inside the gates of the city.

She straightened, the earlier feeling of nausea now gone. She peered out the window at the sleeping houses. Only a few had any lights visible. A building that must be the inn was the only business that was lit.

The coach doors were opened and the passengers exited, placing their feet upon solid ground once more.

"Passengers to King's City, this way please!"

She followed the man's directions, handing him an ell for her ticket and taking it, making her way towards the second coach and immediately boarding it, taking the window seat once more, on the far side of the coach.

She felt anxious, and impatient for them to be off. The sooner she made it to King's City, the better. She would be that much closer to King's Palace.

A part of her, although scared now, was even more worried for her arrival back at the palace. Her mother, she knew, would be ashamed, no matter the circumstances. Antony, probably, would also. He was king; he would have to worry about what her condition might do to mar his reputation. And Kade...

Tears burned her eyes at the thought of what Kade would think. He would never marry her now, for she was unclean. The jailer had taken from her, the greatest gift she had to offer to her husband on the day that they were to marry. He would never want her now. He couldn't possibly.

She forced the tears away, for she was almost certain that most people did not expect to see tears from a boy, and a boy she was pretending to be.

She did not sleep on the ride from Yester to King's City, for her thoughts were too heavy. They demanded her attention and filled her with anxiety.

The coach traveled on and on through the dark night, bumping and jarring as it went. Not one of the passengers was aware that the wide eyed, disheveled and thin-looking boy in the corner of the coach was their Princess, Isabella of Westerholme.

The sky was just beginning to pink with dawn when the coach crested one last hill and the gates of King's City could be seen in the distance.

She felt as though she held her breath until the coach passed through the gates and came to a stop, the passengers beginning to disembark.

She exited the coach, weary with exhaustion and relief. She lifted her gaze and her eyes fell on King's Palace, silhouetted against the starry sky from the top of its waterfall throne.

She couldn't go there. Not yet. She did not want to make the long trek up to the palace by herself, in the dark. She couldn't help but fear that someone would be hiding in the woods to take her once more.

Meredith, she thought, her gaze going to the lower town of King's City, where cheerful little houses stood in rows along cobbled streets. She made her way there. Antony had told her where Meredith's house was at the time he had gifted the Ellingstons with the cottage. They had visited it together.

She found it with little trouble, even in the dark.

***

Meredith awakened, sitting up in bed in her room at the front of the house. She wondered, briefly, what had caused her to awaken.

Then...a second soft knock.

She stood, pulling her cloak around her and lighting a candle that stood on the nightstand next to her bed.

She left her room and crossed to the door, where she opened it a crack, not yet undoing the latch.

The stranger on the doorstep glanced around nervously and then leaned towards Meredith, taking his cap off. He was skinny and pale in the moonlight.

"Meredith?"

"Can I help you?" said Meredith, unsure of this stranger, and wary of his intentions.

"It's me," said the person, dropping the accent they had been using. "Isabella."

***

Not much to say for the author's note this time...

Sidebar image is Meredith's bedroom in their small house in King's City. :)