"Skipping lunch?" Mrs. Woods exploded from the doorway of the kitchen. Briar and Lucy looked up from the dishes at one another as Mrs. Woods' outrage continued. "First he skips dinner and now lunch! Heavens! The lord will have to eat sooner or later! He'll run himself ragged."

Lucy gave Briar a pointed look at that.

"What?" Briar asked.

"I saw you last night," Lucy confessed. "In the kitchen with him."

Briar felt agitation at that, heat rising to her cheeks. Gracious. Was she blushing?

"He wanted a snack," she lied. "So I made him one."

Lucy seemed to believe her, looking back down to their work on the dishes. But after a moment, she asked quietly. "Did you tell him? I mean, about what we all said about him?"

"I would never!" Briar gasped and Lucy smiled, the worry dissolving easily enough.

"You're a good friend, Brenna," Lucy said and Briar smiled at her but the façade faltered the moment that Lucy looked away. These girls had been so kind to her, so welcoming. They had done what they could to make her feel comfortable, to make her feel as though this could be a home. Briar was in danger now but someday she would be a Queen, living in a castle with servants of her own and Lucy, Kitty, and Elsie would still be in the basements of grand estates, dutifully serving those that society deemed more important than them. With a sudden thrust of passion, Briar vowed never to forget them and to do what she could for them once she were coronated. They would, after all, make excellent handmaidens. If her court could bear such a scandal, that is. She smiled to herself when she thought of Lady Cora's face the day when a palace coachman arrived to escort her servants into the esteemed service of the Queen.

"Come," Lucy said suddenly, pulling Briar out of her reverie with a quick tug on her arm. "We're to serve lunch to the others."

Briar nodded and wiped the soapy water off onto a nearby towel before following after Lucy toward the trays that Mrs. Woods had hastily arranged. The old cook was in her usual state of disarray at having a singular event changed the course of her meticulously planned typical day. She wasn't one for adjustment, Mrs. Woods. Lucy and Briar straightened the trays and piled the meals atop them. Then they carried as much as they could up the stairs and into the dining room beyond.

Theodore and Lady Cora were waiting quietly above. They ate their meals just as quietly, an unusual occurrence for these two. Briar looked over to Lucy to see if she had noticed the oddity and it was clear she had but the girl could do nothing but shrug her shoulders in response to the silence. They both looked exhausted as far as Briar could tell. But, other than that, nothing seemed to be amiss. That is, until Douglas burst through the door just as Theodore had finished his lunch.

"Douglas," Theodore said in surprise.

"Sir," Douglas responded. "Where is Lord Huntington?"

"He is in town for the morning. What do you need?"

"There's been news," Douglas said. "Of the rebellion."

The mood of the room shifted in an instant. Suddenly, Douglas had everyone's full attention.

"There are rumors and movements. It seems as though some of the rebels are going to the capital to negotiate with the King or, rather, his advisor."

"Negotiate?" Theodore asked. "What do they have to negotiate?"

"It seems they hope to propose a solution to their conflict."

"What solution?"

"If the princess would marry a man of their choosing, one whom they know will protect their interests, and make him the true King, they will cease all treacherous activities at once and gladly resume their places as lawful citizens."

A hush fell over the room.

"What wonderful news!" Theodore said after a moment, breaking into a smile. "Looks as though there won't be any bloodshed after all."

"He won't agree to it," Lady Cora said so quietly that Briar almost didn't hear her. Theodore turned to her, befuddled.

"What?"

"Sir Alfred Hughes. He won't agree to it."

"Why in heavens not?"

"He cares for the girl, for her happiness. The whole country knows he practically raised her. He won't agree to the match unless his King or his princess wills it."

Theodore's smile faltered. Douglas shifted his weight. The room fell silent as they all considered the issue facing their nation. Briar's heart was pumping faster in her chest but she was making a controlled effort to maintain her composure. There was a chance for peace with the rebels but the cost would be her own soul. Her mind was racing. She would be offered to whatever man the rebels chose for a truce with her own people. She would have no choice on the matter. Of course, that was what she had been raised for, to rule and to marry someone powerful enough and beloved enough to offer her country the benefit of peace and protection. Before it had been Prince Lucien. Now it would be whatever man these rebels wanted to see on her throne. The tips of her ears burned with the thought. They would sell her to the highest bidder and she would go for her country and they would never even appreciate her sacrifice. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the mug in her hand at the wall across from her, watch it shatter like her heart but, even here, in this country estate so far north that no one cared, she couldn't do what she wanted. She could never do what she wanted. She would never be free.

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. She made an effort to calm herself. No one seemed to notice her unease as they were all contemplating how this news affected each of them individually. They had no idea that the princess whose fate they spoke of so casually was in the room with them. They had no reason to suspect that this news should trouble her or that she would even understand it and its implications.

"My brother will need to hear this news," Theodore said finally. "Keep an eye out for his return and tell him the moment he arrives."

Douglas nodded and left to keep watch for his lord's return. After that, it seemed lunch was effectively over. Theodore and Lady Cora left the room together, huddled in hushed tones of conversation as they went. Lucy said nothing, just started cleaning up after them as they always did. It took an enormous amount of effort for Briar to force herself to do that same.

As they took the dishes back down to the kitchens, Briar couldn't help but think about what her life would be like if she just never returned to the palace, if she just remained as Brenna for the rest of her like. As impossible as she knew that was, she couldn't deny the appeal of it. Sure, she would live a life of service to those who thought themselves better than her. Sure, she would have to endure the spoiled sirs and gossiping madams. Sure, her hands would grow calloused from manual labor. But no one would tell her who to love. She could find a nice, respectful peasant by who would fall head over heels in love with her for who she really was and spend his life working to make her happy, never knowing the life she once lived.

But that would never happen. It was an impossible dread. No matter how much it hurt her, how often it broke her heart and shattered her to pieces, her country was her first love. And you never forgot your first. It needed her. Maybe it didn't know it yet, maybe it would fight her tooth and nail for the rest of her life, but it needed her. And all of those little girls who secretly aspired to be something more than some man's wife, they needed her too. And so, as hard as it was, as tempting as it was to turn and flee, she would face it. And when the time came to inherit her throne, she would stand tall and fearless and let them place that crown on her head and all of its responsibilities on her shoulders.

But for now, she would play the part of the servant, biding her time until she could take her throne and scatter the rebel forces like the cowardly rats they were. Briar placed the trays and dishes at the sink and moved to help Lucy wash them but Mrs. Woods stopped her.

"Lord Huntington will be returning from town this afternoon," Mrs. Woods told her. "From what I heard from upstairs, he will be having some business to deal with. Best go and clean his study now so its prepared for him when he returns."

Briar nodded in obedience and, leaving Lucy to do the dishes alone, headed for the pantry in the hall that contained the cleaning supplies. She grabbed a small, wooden bucket and filled it with what she would need before climbing the stairs for the study. When she entered the empty room, she realized just how dark and dingy the servant underground was. Lord Huntington's study was filled with natural light from the window behind his desk. Sunlight streamed in in beautiful rays of warmth. It inspired her. She plucked a piece of paper from Lord Huntington's desk and folded it into the shape of a small bird the way that she had learned in her childhood from a diplomat. She smiled at the small creation and placed it gently upon the window sill where she hoped Lord Huntington would derive a bit of amusement from it.

Then she grabbed the cleaning supplies from her bucket and set to work. She cleaned the window until it was so clear it looked to be nothing more than a hole cut into the wall. She straightened the papers on his desk and began the lengthy task of dusting all of his books. That was when she heard the door open behind her. She turned, smiling, to face Lord Huntington but her smile vanished the moment she perceived him in the doorway, jaw clenched and brow furrowed in anger.

"Lord Huntington," she began. "Welcome home."

He shut the door a bit harder than necessary and marched across the room. When he reached the desk between them, he slammed a piece of paper to the top of it. Briar jumped at the loud noise and at the fury causing Lord Huntington's upper lip to twitch.

"What's this?" he asked through gritted teeth. She leaned forward to fet a look at the parchment and her heart fell. Sitting there on the desk, pinned beneath Lord Huntington's fingers, was her unsent, coded letter to Sir Alfred Hughes. She closed her eyes, heard him tapping his foot impatiently. "I want an explanation for this."

"I know you do," she told him calmly and carefully. "And you deserve one. But if I tell you what is written in that letter then my life is at risk."

"And if you don't tell me, my life and the lives of everyone else on this estate are at risk."

The stared at each other for a moment, having reached an evident impasse. Briar looked into the ocean of his eyes. Turbulent as those depths were, still something called to her there, begging her to trust them.

"Brenna," he tried again, more gently this time though still visibly agitated. "When we first met, in the woods so long ago, I promised you that I would not hurt you. Now, I have kept my promise. And I don' intend to break it now."

She knew that. She knew he would never hurt her. That wasn't what she feared. All at once, she realized that it wasn't fear for her life that held her tongue. It was fear for his. The knowledge of who she was would put him in a predicament that she would have rather spared him. Harboring her here in his home would put him in grave danger. And she had no doubt that he would insist upon her continued protection. But looking at him now, the way he looked so hurt by the indication that she had lied to him, or at the very least mistrusted him, she felt nothing but guilt and she knew that she could lie to him no more.

"That night in the woods," she began, voice shaking. "I was not running from my father's assassins. I was running from my own."

"What?" he took a step forward and stopped, an indication that he wanted to comfort her but still felt suspicion for her. She couldn't fault him for that. He may never trust her again after this.

"I got away, clearly, and you found me the next morning. I didn't know if I could trust you. And the lie felt much easier than the truth."

"I don't understand. Why would someone be trying to kill you?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Oddly enough, it seems as though a large portion of the country would like a shot at it."

She saw the confusion on his face and sighed, preparing herself for her own confession.

"I am Briar Aldrich, princess of Isalovia."

Lord Huntington's mouth fell open slightly. His brow furrowed and his eyes darted back and forth as he stood there thinking, remembering, trying to fit it all together like so many pieces of a puzzle. After a moment, his eyes went wide and he stared up at her. She felt shame flood her face with redness.

"The rebels attacked the wagon," he said quickly. "It was your wagon. You were inside. They killed your guard and then... then you killed one of them. With the dagger."

She waited patiently as he understood.

"I've had the princess working in my kitchens!" he blurted suddenly and she rushed forward on instinct to hush him.

"Shh," she urged in a hiss. "Sh. Please."

"I'm so stupid," he was saying now. "I let you borrow books like it was a luxury. I played a drinking game with you. I- and my brother- oh dear. I'm so humiliated."

He sat with a plop onto the chair behind him. She rushed over, trying to calm him, lest they be overheard.

"You shouldn't be," she told him. "You were so kind. And valiant. You treated me well even when I was nothing. I won't forget that."

He smiled.

"But I need your help still. I have been safe here these past few weeks because no one knows who I am. It must continue to stay that way."

"You expect me to treat you like a servant?" he said incredulously. "Now? After this?"

"I need the protection of anonymity."

"I couldn't possibly stand by while you feed me and do my dishes. You're to be my Queen some day."

"Well then," she said, standing to her full height and using the most authoritative voice she could muster. "I command you."

He stared at her for a moment and then burst into laughter. She tried to feign being wounded but couldn't help laughing along with him. It had been a poor attempt but it broke the tension and she felt comfortable around him again. He was no longer looking at her like a fragile work of glass.

"That day in the woods," he said then, remembering. All laughter was gone and something else sparkled in those blue eyes. Pity? He looked at her. "You must have been so frightened..."

He was gazing at her as if truly understanding her situation for the very first time. Suddenly, he stood and then knelt in front of her. He removed the dagger from his belt, the very one she had slit a young boy's throat open with, and laid it before her, flat on the ground.

"Princess Briar Aldrich of Isalovia," he said in the most authoritative voice she had ever heard him use. "I pledge my life to you. You will have my loyalty, my protection, and, as you need it, my silence."

She stared down at him. He gazed up at her through the dense curtain of his curly blonde hair. She touched his shoulder lightly and he stood with newfound purpose. Then, overcome with emotion, she threw her arms around him in a friendly hug. He tensed at the contact but then relaxed just as she let him go. Then she simply smiled at him, grabbed her bucket of supplies, and left the study.