The morning after a celebration that lasts until one a.m. is not usually a good one for most involved. Of course, not everyone had to remove themselves from their warm beds and make their way to a final meeting with their best general.

Antony felt half asleep as he dressed for the day. He felt as though his limbs were not his own, so sluggish were they to obey his orders. Aside from that, his head ached. He almost gave up and got back in bed.

However, finally dressed in red cotton shirt and trousers, he pulled on his boots, put on his everyday crown-the much simpler gold band meant to be lighter and more convenient then the ceremonial crown-, and made his way slowly to his study.

He found Kade already there, waiting outside the door and chatting with the guards.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," said Kade, bowing slightly.

Antony simply gave a tired nod and walked past him and into the room, where Fulton had already delivered hot tea. He sat and took a sip, the scalding liquid awakening him from his sleepy stupor far better than anything else.

He took one more sip and then sat back in his chair, facing Kade.

"You don't look pleased, Kade," he said, watching his general's face.

"As you know, we planned on bringing home a lot of soldiers from the borders...letting them see their families."

Antony frowned, sensing what must be coming. By Kade's expression, it wasn't going to be pleasant news.

Kade sighed and sat down in the chair across from Antony's desk.

"I've received word from spies on the border that they've...seen some things that could be signs of rebel activity and the like."

Antony was silent for a few moments, before he finally spoke. "So what you're saying is, you think we should hold the soldiers in their current position." He thought of how many men were going to be disappointed, how low morale could drop. He pictured the families who had been waiting for their men to come home.

"Not all of them. Just enough to hold our position strong. The men aren't sure what the threat is, but it's enough to make the villages along the southern border a bit uneasy."

"Very well, Kade. Reduce the numbers of men that are returning for leave."

"Yes, Sir."

"And one more thing."

"Yes?" Kade turned once more to face Antony.

"Prepare a guard. I wish to go to the southern border and learn more about this possible threat, myself. As well as to speak with the men who are left behind. I will leave tomorrow."

"Of course, Sir."

Waking up, Meredith felt as though she were bruised everywhere. She had danced only five dances last night, compared to Isabella, who had danced as often as possible with Kade, and yet she was still sore, having not danced for years until the night previous.

She lay back on her pillow, reliving last night. She had danced with Lord Andrew, effectively distracting him from Isabella, and then she had been cornered by Lord Richard for a dance, during which he clomped on her toes more than once, but neither of them had danced as well as King Antony.

She shook her head. It wasn't proper for her to even think about Antony in any more of a sense than her employer and, aside from that, her king, and yet she wished she had been able to dance with him just once more. Perhaps if she had not been so silent when he asked who she really was. Would he really be unkind to her because she was merely Isabella's maid? Or maybe if she hadn't left the dance floor so abruptly...

One thing was for sure, though. She would not be telling Isabella about any of these thoughts, as her friend might react in some rash manner as she had the night before, and the poor, unsuspecting king might find himself with an unplanned, unwanted dinner guest or riding companion.

Isabella had promised her the day to do as she pleased, and, at the moment, she did not even feel as though she'd get out of bed.

However, about a half an hour later, she sighed and forced herself to stand. There were things she could get done today.

Before she even got out of her nightgown, she crossed to her writing desk and pulled out pen and paper. Evan may be less than understanding if she told him about Isabella, but she had hope that her mother might at least listen.

Dear Mother,

She stopped, pen poised above paper and took a deep breath. She needed to tell her mother. She needed to tell someone. So she dipped pen in ink once more and began.

Work has been going well for me here at the palace. I have found that they treat me perfectly well, and Evan is fine too.

I'm writing to you for a purpose, Mother. Because I felt that if I didn't tell anyone else, I'd burst.

The day after my arrival here, the Prince and Princess arrived from their estate. The Princess Isabella required someone to assist her in working in the greenhouse, and Fulton (the butler) offered her my help.

Working with Isabella was different than I could ever have imagined it being. She doesn't put on airs, or see herself above anyone else. She insisted I refrain from calling her "my lady" or "ma'am" or any of the other terms of respect that prissy ladies insist on their servants using towards them. She insisted I call her by name.

I have to admit to you, Mother, that I enjoyed talking with her. I have never had a friend around my age to talk to, except for Evan. And, I suppose you know, he's not the same as having a female friend to go to for advice, to chat, or simply to know that she's there.

Isabella, surprisingly, has also never had a friend like that. She's grown up an only child, her closest friend being her cousin. She admitted to me that she found working with me and chatting with me very pleasant, and, the next day, she invited me to be a companion to her. This is the reason my pay has increased so, and I send you more with this letter than I have ever sent before.

What I really want to tell you, Mother, is that I've been doing some thinking. Isabella seems not at all the sort of person who would do what Rupert and his brothers did in attacking our home, and in killing father and Tad. I feel as though, if she knew my story, she would be truly sorry. And her cousin. He's going to be a much better king than any we've had in a long time.

But I'm confused, Mother. They're of the House of Westerholme. Haven't we always hated them? Haven't we always kept our distance from them, watched them warily? But now, I find myself wanting to confide in Isabella every time I'm upset, or not feeling well, or about a dress design I've wanted to make. And she listens, unlike anyone else ever has. She's my friend, Mother. She's given me so much. The opportunity to make dresses I've always wanted to make, the ability to send even more money home to you, and an ear to listen to me whenever I ask.

I feel as though Evan will not understand. He seemed angry when I received the position as Isabella's companion. I feel as though we are growing apart, and I don't want that, but I also don't want to give up this new-found friendship. I don't know what to do! I'm torn. I want to forgive and have no qualms about being friends with Isabella, but I don't want to lose my family.

I suppose I should end this letter know. I'll be sending money. I hope you'll give a little to each of the children, Mother, as there is enough extra for them each to have a little treat. And I hope you'll keep some for yourself as well. I wish you all the best, and pray that you are safe.

Your Loving Daughter,

Meredith

She sealed the letter with wax and set it on her desk as she went to dress in one of her simpler dresses. She would walk to town herself and deliver her letter, then perhaps spend a bit of her extra money, maybe on a gift for Evan. She didn't want to stay at odds with him.

Halfway down the hill from the Castle, she found herself regretting her desire to walk down to the city. The hot afternoon sun beat down upon her, and she entertained humorous fantasies of her jumping into the river or standing under the waterfall to cool off.

She laughed at the ridiculous notion, wiped her brow, and continued on.

Other than the heat, it really was a beautiful day: the sun was bright and the birds were singing from in the tree branches someplace. She could hear the waterfall falling nearby, and the sound of the rushing water was lovely, to her.

Unfortunately, it also drowned out the noise of the approaching carriage, and she jumped out of the way just as the driver finally managed to slow and stop the horses on the steep down-hill road. She stood to the side, a bit shaken.

The door of the carriage opened, and someone got out, making their way towards her.

Antony.

"What, may I ask, were you doing, standing in the middle of the road? You could have been hit!"

As he came closer, she could see that it was worry making him angry. He came to a stop, in front of her, and appraised her carefully, his brow knit with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, more gently.

She nodded, stupidly.

"Are you sure? I'm really very sorry about that; the driver didn't see you in time and it's difficult to stop on this hill."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Really, I am." She averted her eyes, not meeting his. She really didn't want him to recognize her as the "Lady" Meredith.

She glanced up at him, and saw his eyes narrow, as if he were thinking. Trying to remember where he's seen me...Oh, Isabella...Why did you have to do that last night?

"Lady Meredith!"

She groaned inwardly, but looked up to meet his gaze, directly.

"What are you doing, walking all the way to town?"

She was filled with a rush of embarrassment, and a bit of anger at her circumstances. It could have been anyone else in that carriage, and yet it was him.

"You know I'm not a "Lady" so just...come off it!" she snapped, her face flushing. She turned and pushed past him, continuing stoically down the hill, towards town; her ego was not bolstered by the fact that he seemed amused.

She was surprised to hear, after a moment, his footsteps coming after her. He grabbed her wrist, gently, and pulled her to a stop.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sure that Isabella meant well, but I shouldn't have reminded you of it today."

She was silent, still looking at the ground.

"Please," he said. "Let me do something to make it right. You're going to the town, correct? Allow me to offer you a ride down." He gestured at the carriage.

She considered this. She was still sore, and tired, and the weather was hot. But the last thing she wanted to do was ride with the king.

"I'm fine," she said.

He studied her for a few moments, before shrugging.

"Suit yourself, then," he said, and turned, heading back to the carriage.

He had just reached it, when she sighed.

"Wait!" she called out. "I...changed my mind."

He studied her for a few moments, then held the door open for her as she entered the carriage, ignoring his offered hand.

Once she had seated herself, Antony boarded after her and sat across from her. She avoided his eyes, looking at her hands, folded in her lap.

"My cousin seems to enjoy your company."

She looked up, startled out of her reverie. "How did you..." To her knowledge, she had never been introduced to him as Isabella's companion.

He smiled a bit. "A guess."

She nodded, quiet once more.

"I want to thank you."

She was surprised all over again. To have the king of all people, thank her...

"What for?" she managed to say.

"I'm not sure what you do...but Isabella has been much happier ever since the day she told me that she had a new companion. She'd been a bit...out of sorts. Yet she seems to be back to herself now, thanks to you. So again; I thank you."

She studied him for a moment. He seemed entirely sincere; he looked straight at her, meeting her eyes for a moment, before breaking the brief moment of contact.

"You're like your cousin."

"Oh?" He seemed surprised that she should speak, only to say that.

"I'm sorry..." she muttered. "I shouldn't have...I mean...I'm a servant."

She looked up to see him shaking his head slowly, and looking at her, as though attempting to discover something about her.

"You're unlike any servant I've ever encountered."

"You're unlike any king I've known."

"Oh really? How many of those have you met?"

"I meant...I didn't mean..."

He smiled slightly. "It's fine."

She sighed in frustration. She felt that she was making a fool of herself.

"What brings you to town?"

She glanced at him, briefly, enough to catch a glimpse of his blue eyes, watching her. She quickly returned her gaze to her lap.

"I'm sending a letter...to my Mother. And some of my pay will go to her as well."

"I see," he said, and she looked up once more to see that he was studying his hands, just as she was. She took this opportunity to observe him.

He certainly wasn't like any person in a position of power that she had known. He sat there, avoiding her gaze, and yet she had an innate sense that he wasn't doing so because he had something to hide. She watched as he turned to glance out the carriage window, the sunlight streaming through it highlighting his features.

He suddenly turned, caught her staring. She found herself unable to look away.

"Do you...I mean, does your family...Are they happy? I suppose I've never really known how others in the kingdom live and..." He paused. "I would like to know."

Meredith shrugged.

"We're happy," she said. "We have to work hard but...we're happy."

He nodded, then looked out the window once more.

"What brings you to town? You know my reasons. What are yours?"

He glanced up at her, a slight frown crossing his face. Finally, he answered. "I also am delivering a message. Normally, a guard or a messenger would take it but...I wanted to." He looked as if he were hesitating a bit.

He turned his gaze to hers, something akin to frustration in his face. "Ever since my brother died, and I became the heir to the throne, I've been able to do nothing for myself! If I went somewhere, there were guards. If I wasn't with my aunt and my cousin, it was considered a risk. I wanted to...go somewhere, without all the guards, and, for once, do something, even the simplest thing without having a servant do it for me!"

Meredith tilted her head, listening curiously.

"But...don't you...like having servants?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose there are plenty of benefits. But sometimes...it's a bit much. I simply felt like escaping it all for a bit, since I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

He looked at her; his face traded its look of frustration for a look of something akin to slight suspicion. He seemed to think that she had overstepped some sort of boundary, or perhaps he had realized that he was allowing a mere servant so much information. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry. I was only curious..."

He looked at her critically, before glancing once out the window.

"I believe you'll find that we've arrived in town."

"I really didn't..."

He cut her off with a single look, then stepped down from the carriage, and offered her his hand. She took it, this time, and stepped down.