Antony watched as Meredith smiled shyly. After a few moments, he gave her a small smile in return.

"I'm sorry if I'm the worst sort of dinner company," he said, forcing an uncomfortable laugh. "I just...I'm not quite as socially adept as Isabella. I don't enjoy it as much. She talks to anyone while I..." He smiled. "While I stand by her side and "look angry", at least according to her."

"I don't think you look angry." She regretted her words, a bit, because if he were to think about it, they implied that she watched him. "What I mean is that I think you just look...serious."

"Well," he said, setting down his glass of water after taking a sip. "I do thank you for your vote of confidence." He smiled, and watched as she looked up, met his gaze, and then looked quickly away.

He searched for a safe topic of conversation. "Meredith, Isabella says that your brother is also employed here?"

He looked up to see her looking a bit conflicted. Eventually, she nodded, after what Antony felt was too long a pause.

"Yes, he does. He works in the stables at the moment." A small smile touched the corners of her lips. "He likes your horses. He's...always liked horses, but being..." He watched all traces of a smile fade from her expression. "Being poor, like we are, we've not owned one for a long while."

Antony frowned, feeling almost guilty for being born in a position in which he was privileged enough to have everything he might want. Was it wrong to have things, or a position, simply because of the family one was born into?

He pulled his thoughts back to the present, for she was speaking again.

'I wish Nash could see the horses," she said. "He loves horses even more than Evan." She laughed. "I bought him one...a toy, just a carving. He was so excited. He said he was going to name it after me!"

She must have noticed his look of confusion, because she smiled and said, "Nash is my youngest brother."

He nodded. "He must be lucky to have a sister like you, to buy him presents."

She blushed and looked down at her plate. "I just wish I could do more...I send them money, but I'm always gone. And we can't spare much for things such as new clothing or toys. When I became Isabella's companion, I earned a bit more money to send back home to my mother...I hope that she uses some of it to get them something outside of the everyday necessities." She looked up once more. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't be boring you with that sort of talk. It probably sounds like I'm being ungrateful or like I'm complaining."

"Would you be apologizing if this were a different place and if I weren't the king? Would you be afraid of speaking your mind and having it sound as though it could be mistaken for a complaint?"

She looked hesitant to answer his question, but she finally shook her head. "No..."

He wondered how many people would keep their opinions to themselves, or change their words simply because of the title he bore. Had people done so in the past? The thought somehow angered him, that people would be afraid to speak to him. He was their king, their advocate. How would not speaking their minds help them?

I want to help them, he thought. I want to help heal this empire from the reign of my grandfather and my uncle. But how can I do that if they fear what will happen to them if they speak to me about the things that trouble them?

He ran his fingers through his hair, slightly frustrated.

"You do that when you're upset about something, don't you?"

He looked up at Meredith in surprise. "Do what?"

"Run your hand through your hair."

"I do?"

She nodded, shyly.

"I...suppose I don't think about it."

She shrugged. "I suppose everyone has something they do unconsciously when their mind is distracted by a problem. My brother Evan bites his lower lip. So... what's bothering you?"

He considered her for a few moments. "I don't know where to start in cleaning up this mess my uncle has made."

He wondered if it was his imagination that she suddenly looked sad, her expression downcast.

"I'm sure you'll do a fine job..." she said, quietly, her gaze trained on her food before her.

Merely a few minutes later, she stood, and curtsied. "I apologize, Sire," she said. "I have a lot to do...It's a Friday and there's a...servants party I'm going to this evening. I have to do my work before I go."

He stood, out of habit, and gave her a slight bow. "Of course. I don't want to keep you."

She nodded and walked past him, her pace slightly hurried as she left the room and the door shut behind her, leaving Antony standing next to his chair, staring after her and wondering what had made her leave so quickly.

Meredith hurried down the corridor away from the dining room. Part of her felt bad for leaving Antony so abruptly when he had been so kind to her. However, his mention of his uncle had reminded her all over again of what happened to her family in Borgavia.

But I'm so confused! The voice in her head cried. I find myself being Isabella's friend and I want to get to know Antony better. They're both so kind! She shook her head as she reached her room and unlocked her door, entering and closing it firmly behind her. She wished she didn't have a small bit of guilt niggling at the back of her mind that told her it was wrong of her to lie to Antony about needing to prepare for the servants' party. Isabella hardly gave her any real work and she had nothing but free time in the hours before the party.

She made her way to her bed and sat down.

As she shifted her weight, she felt the rustle of paper. Of course! Her mother's letter! In her mental conflict, she had forgotten about her mother's letter.

She pulled it out and slit the envelope, hungry for her mother's words.

My Dearest Daughter:

I am overjoyed to hear that they are treating you well. I hope that that will continue and that you will be happier there than you have been at your previous employers. I hope that Evan is also well. Give him my love.

Nash sends his well wishes and desires that you would return for a visit before his birthday. Please don't worry yourself; it is completely understandable if you find yourself unable.

As to the main concern of your letter...You are old enough to make your own decisions about whom you choose to forgive. I've personally wondered if it is wrong to continue to hold distrust against those who were merely born into a particular family. Perhaps Antony and Isabella have no hint of their uncle's evil.

I simply worry, however, if you find yourself becoming good friends with Isabella, that you may find your trust and friendship betrayed. Sometimes, pain comes from those we least expect it to come from.

You don't know it, but your father and I were very close friends of Prince William and Princess Saraya, and Prince Edward and Princess Therese of Astoria. They frequented the parties of Borgavia when our capital city was known as the "city of lights" for our fireworks display and cheerful celebrations. In those times, everything was full of happiness and when you were only a young baby, I'd spend the parties chatting with Therese and her young daughter, two at the time, and Saraya and her baby, who was almost one.

What made it hurt all the worse when King Rupert, Prince William, and Prince Edward marched on Borgavia is that they were our friends.

I am proud of you, Meredith. It's a mark of maturity and grace that you would be willing to forgive. Perhaps I should learn from you, my daughter.

However, I do warn you: I do not believe it to be wise to throw caution to the wind. You carry two identities: you may be a servant girl by appearance, but deep down, you are every bit the princess that Isabella is. You need to keep yourself safe. You do not know for sure that Antony and Isabella would not react badly to knowing that one of their servant girls was a princess in hiding.

Please, Meredith. Take care of yourself. Keep your secret. Keep our family's secret. Perhaps in the future, it may be told, but for now, hold it close.

Always remember that I love you, Meredith Sophia-Avril, Princess of Borgavia, of the House Eldridge.

Love always, mother.

Meredith lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, clutching her mother's letter close to her chest. She felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes. She had been too young to remember much of what being a princess meant. That life was as foreign to her as it would be to someone who really was just a servant girl.

She remembered things about Borgavia: how it looked, for instance. However, she didn't remember what it had felt like to know that she was a princess and that she was privileged. It almost seemed as though it had only been a dream, as if it hadn't really been her life.

She made her decision. Perhaps in the future, she thought briefly, she might regret her choice, but she felt, deep down, that it was the right one. Isabella and Antony didn't need to be judged for the mistakes of their relatives. They were different people.

As she stood and went to her mirror to fix her hair and put on the pearls Evan bought her, she found herself smiling at her reflection.

She really would enjoy the party this evening.