Meredith sat on the wooden stool, careful to remain calm and still, even though she felt like doing anything but.

The very next day, as advised by Evan, she had gathered her file of the resumes left from each house she had worked at and made her way to the registry, for an interview.

She didn't know exactly what she would be asked in her interview, but she knew getting a palace position required questions about one's criminal background, a record of all of one's past employers and explanations for each discharge.

"Meredith Ellingston."

She stood and moved towards the small back room where her interview would occur. She almost considered lying about her background in crime so that she would not be considered fit for the job. A mental picture of her mother and younger siblings starving or losing the house came to her mind just then and prompted her on into the room. The room was small, square, and painted gray. It was lit by several lanterns along the wall and a small square window with red-checked curtains let in some natural light.

She sat down on yet another wooden stool.

A middle aged lady, her hair gray and pulled back into a severe bun on the back of her head, entered after her and shut the door.

"Your resumes?"

Meredith handed her the file without a word and watched her peruse it, her eyes behind metal rimmed spectacles raking over each page.

Finally she closed it and looked up at Meredith.

"I see," she said, "that you've had no less than twelve jobs in the past five years."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"However, according to these, your employers listed no dissatisfactions about your work under your reasons of discharge. Please explain."

Meredith took a deep breath.

"I've been in and out of work since my father's death, trying to help provide for my family. The positions were usually temporary...I usually filled in for other housemaids who were ill, pregnant, or I was a replacement until they could hire a permanent. Once a family needed a maid for a year to prepare their house to sell, and I took that position, fully aware that it would eventually end and leave me searching for another job."

The old woman looked somewhat less severe and her mouth softened.

"You need a job to help your family then."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The woman handed Meredith back her file and stood.

"You know, before I worked my way up to Second Housekeeper, I was a maid just like you, looking for work to help send my younger sister to university. I understand your position. I feel that you are a good worker. As for your criminal record, every applicant's name was reviewed with the authorities of their town before they were called for an interview. I see no reason to doubt your capabilities or your ethics."

She led Meredith to the door.

"Please visit tomorrow to see the list of applicants chosen to work at King's City. Thank you for your interview."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

She gave a slight curtsy and left the room, her file clutched to her chest. She took a few deep breaths of fresh air as she exited the registry and looked down the street, to where Evan was waiting outside a small shop.

He stood and came to stand by her side.

"How did it go?" he questioned her, falling into step with her as they walked down the street.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she said. "I think I've a good chance of landing a job."

"Very good," he said. They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the small town of Dunkirk surrounding them: people chatting on the sidewalks, horses clopping down the cobbled streets, a shop door slamming, a peddler marketing his wares.

"You know I'm worried about this, right?"

Evan turned to look at her thoughtfully, thinking about her question.

"You know I do; I am too," he finally said.

"If there is any place for our secrets to come out, that palace in King's City is one of them."

"I know," Evan said, looking down Main Street into the distance.

"And we have no guarantee that this nephew of King Rupert's grandson is any better than he or his son was."

"This I know also."

"Then why are why doing this?"

"Because we have to. You know why."

She sighed and walked along with him. Finally, she changed subject.

"You know," she said. "I wish we had a horse. Then we wouldn't have to walk everywhere."

"We're not rich; we don't need a horse."

She was silent.

"You're right," she said. "But it'd be nice not to have to walk everywhere."

Not for the first time did the arrival of lunch time at Mansfield Palace see an empty place at the table.

Not for the first time did the Princess Isabella sigh and assure her mother that she would go fetch her younger cousin.

Not for the first time did she mount her lovely paint mare and take off for the spot in the woods in which she knew he would be.

Antony, for his part, did not even glance up when the thundering hooves on the wooded path came to a stop and his cousin dismounted.

He simply sat and continued to stare at his reflection in the small pond in the middle of the clearing. He heard his cousin sigh and come to sit next to him, tucking the skirts of her dress around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. She turned to glance sideways at him.

"Your mother is not going to be happy when she finds you've soiled another dress looking for me," he said, simply, not looking away from the water.

"Well, she's used to it by now, I'm sure. She knows I'm never going to stop coming to find you."

They were silent, and the only noise was the dragonflies skimming the surface of the pond.

Isabella sighed once more.

"Antony, you shouldn't be so moody."

He turned to look at her, his arms folded and propped on his knees.

"Really," she said. "You're positively mopey."

"Why shouldn't I be," he muttered, leaning his head against his arms. "Twenty-seven days, Isa."

Isabella hesitantly rested a hand on her cousin's shoulder. He sighed and turned his head to meet her eyes.

"I've never wanted a birthday to come less," he said, dejectedly.

"Antony, don't. You can't stop it from coming. What would your father have thought?"

He glared at the water.

"Well, my father's not here now, is he? Because some king somewhere decided that just because he had the misfortune of being Rupert's brother, that he was exactly like Rupert. That he deserved to die."

"The same thing happened to my father! He died the same day as yours. But you don't see me acting like a spoiled, whiny child!"

"Yes, point taken," he said angrily. "But I also don't see you getting ready to spend your twentieth birthday being made a king, when you don't even feel as though you're ready, and you don't want to."

They were silent for a while. Isabella lay back on the grass and looked up at the sky, barely visible above a canopy of green leaves.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered to Antony. He made a humph noise and continued to glare at the water, as if all his problems were its fault.

She smirked and yanked on his arm, pulling him down next to her.

"Tell me what's wrong, cousin," she said.

He sighed, looking tired.

"I don't want to be king. You know I don't. I guess...I never thought it would come down to me. I don't want to be responsible for the problems and worries and safety and welfare...of thousands of other people. And...I don't think it's because I'm selfish...I'm just worried I won't be able to do the thing properly. I know nothing about being a king. I don't want to fail them when they're all counting on me."

She leaned up on one arm.

"Cousin Antony, listen."

He diverted his eyes from the canopy above to her face.

"You're going to be a great king. I know it."

He looked completely skeptical and disbelieving as he sat up to face her.

"It's not a job that calls for knowing all the answers. It's a job that calls for a heart for the people. And, just by the fact that you're worrying how you're going to best take care of them all, not to mention that we've been friends for years, I know that you have no lack of heart." She shoved him playfully on the chest and he smiled briefly before frowning once more.

She stood and grabbed his hand, prompting him to stand.

"Now come on, before my mother decides to come looking for us to give us a tongue-lashing."

"You're going to get one anyways; you've stained yet another dress."

"And you've got grass in your hair!" She laughed and gave him another shove, earning another smile from him.

She mounted her horse and looked to where her cousin stood brushing the grass out of his blonde-brown hair.

"Race you back?"

"I don't think so, Isabella...The path's..."

"Go!" she yelled, taking off down the path and leaving him standing in the clearing.

He shook his head and glanced once more at the lake before mounting Emery, a grayish-black mare and one of his favorite horses, and taking off down the path behind his older cousin.