Catarina awoke to sunlight and the absence of the sounds of rain and thunder, instead replaced by faint, cheerful strains of birdsong. She sat up and discovered that someone had covered her with a blanket and tucked a pillow under her head during the night. She wondered if the innkeeper had taken pity on her after all. She also discovered that Frankfurt was missing, no doubt having ventured off to catch some mice. Just then, as she was smoothing her skirt and straightening the blanket-shawl around her shoulders, the door to the room swung open, and the tall young man stepped out into the hall. He looked greatly recovered, appearing deeply refreshed after the night before, although he was still dressed in the same ratty clothes.

When his crystal-blue gaze alighted on her, his expression transformed into one of embarrassed remorse. "I owe you an apology," he said, his gaze flickering over her shawl and dress instead of meeting her eyes. "It was impolite of me to refuse you the room last night. I'm afraid the cold and exhaustion made me un-chivalrous." As he spoke, Catarina realized that he was the one who had given her the pillow and blanket during the night.

The brightness of morning and comfortable warmth in the inn, as well as being well-rested, made Catarina feel generous again. "We were both in a sorry state," she said, blushing as she recalled how she had assaulted him with a book.

The young man shook his head. "My behavior was inexcusable. No gentleman should turn a lady away like that."

Catarina hardly thought he looked like a gentleman with his threadbare clothes and unwashed hair, but she doubted she looked any better or more like a lady, so she simply smiled understandingly.

"I'm Charles, by the way." He looked guiltily at the blanket and pillow huddled between them on the floor. "If there's any way I can make it up to you...." An idea seemed to strike him, lighting up his fair features. "You came here on foot, didn't you? My horse is out in the stables. I can take you wherever you're headed. I don't mind in the least if that helps make it up to you."

Catarina opened her mouth to refuse but then paused to consider his offer. She'd only just pushed herself to her feet, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how sore her legs were, no doubt from her harrowing escape the night before. Her pace would be tortuously slow if she chose to walk the rest of the day. "I...alright," she said, despite knowing it was imprudent to let strangers spirit you away while traveling through foreign regions. "If you don't mind."

The young man, Charles, looked relieved. "Not in the least," he said quickly. "It's no trouble at all. I wasn't headed anywhere in particular anyway. Just exploring and seeing the kingdom." He smiled, nearly blinding her with rows of very white, perfectly straight teeth.

Hoping she wasn't making a horrible mistake, Catarina followed him out to the stables. They ate a quick breakfast of bread, cheese, and jam before starting down the road. His steed was a massive, snow-white horse with a beautiful pale mane and plain leather saddlebags swinging on either side of its flanks. It was impressively well-behaved and didn't seem put off in the least by having to carry an extra person. They set off at a brisk, smooth trot along the muddied road, hemmed in on either side by thick groves of trees, their leaves raindrop-laden and glowing golden-green in the rich morning light. Catarina sat behind Charles and clung reluctantly to his waist while he held the reins. Frankfurt kept pace beside them, dodging puddles and stopping occasionally to daintily lick the mud from his paws. Catarina swayed to and fro in the saddle in time with the horse's steady gait.

Charles talked to her with a great deal of interest, asking her question after question and occasionally letting the conversation fall off into long stretches of silence. Over the course of the ride, Catarina told him about her narrow escape from the bandits (he looked very guilty as she explained the ordeal she had barely survived before being turned away from the room at the inn), and, when he asked about where she was from, she described the town of Carnine and the horrid green mush to him. He seemed intrigued when she told him the tale of how she'd been found as a baby and prodded her for more details, listening in rapt, thoughtful silence. She, in turn, learned about Courtside, the city he was from, and the history of Sealin's relations with nearby kingdoms. He spoke in a soft, pleasantly polished voice and was surprisingly knowledgeable.

The weather remained pleasant and fair, and they passed through several towns, stopping to water the horse and stretch their legs. The sunlight was slanting low through the trees, and Catarina was beginning to feel stiff by the time the woods began to thin. Presently, they emerged into the clear dusk over a stretch of grassy hills, dappled with wildflowers. Hazy glimpses of the ocean were visible between the hills, glimmering white-blue on the horizon. The road widened, and the hills flattened into fields dotted with trees. They trotted around a bend and found themselves on the outskirts of a small city. A band of horses, carriages, and men were coming down the road from the direction of the city walls, heading towards them. As the group of travelers grew closer, Catarina could make out the gold and blue crests emblazoned on their carriage doors.

Muttering an impolite word under his breath, Charles yanked on the reins, sharply turning the horse around.

"What are you doing?" Catarina clung to him tightly, puzzled, as he urged the horse into a swift trot, back in the direction they'd just come.

Whatever Charles had intended, it was no good, because the band of travelers quickly overtook them. They approached in a clatter of wheels and hooves, and as the group drew level with the four of them, Catarina saw that the men were all outfitted in the gold-tasseled blue uniforms of royal guards. The guards riding at the front of the group on magnificent, shining white steeds halted suddenly and sent up a shout.

Looking resigned, Charles reined their horse to a stop.

"What-?" Catarina began. But Charles only muttered, "They've recognized me," and then turned them around once again to face the royal guards.

The procession was really quite splendid. The horses were decked out in blue and gold fringed finery, embroidered harnesses gleaming against their snowy pelts. The guards wore shiny boots, and their uniforms were trimmed in gold. There must have been at least two dozen of them, complete with four carriages and a number of magnificent white horses. The carriages were much finer than the seafaring merchants', made of beautifully painted, polished wood with triangular windows and velvet curtains. The royal crest gleamed on their doors—a miniature sun and swirling waves emblazoned in brilliant color.

The guard at the front of the group, with an array of badges gleaming importantly on the chest of his uniform, guided his horse a few steps closer to her and Charles, stopping in the middle of the road directly in front of them. Behind him, the walls of the city painted a stony gray backdrop against the rosy sky.

"Your Highness." The guard dipped his head in a bow as he addressed Charles. "Prince Lucion."

Catarina nearly fell off the horse behind Charles. She hurriedly removed her hands from his waist, despite the urge sweeping through her to seize fistfuls of his flaxen hair and shake him, demanding, "What in heaven's name is going on?"

Charles raised his head; there was suddenly a regal tilt to his chin. Catarina mentally berated herself. She should've known the cut of his jaw was far too perfect to belong to an ordinary commoner. In the grass at the side of the road, Frankfurt looked delighted. "This keeps getting better and better," he mewled appreciatively. Catarina was not as appreciative of being mounted on the same horse as the prince of Sealin. She was remembering, with acute clarity, how she had attempted to bludgeon the prince with a sodden book.

Perhaps noticing Catarina's dismay, the prince slightly sheepishly addressed the guard by name. "Royal Officer Bailey. I wasn't expecting to encounter you and your men here."

While the two of them exchanged formalities, Catarina was considering discreetly sliding off the horse's rump and dashing away into the woods. But her plans were foiled when Prince Lucion turned towards her. "I must apologize to you once again," he said. "You must pardon my dishonesty. I've been traveling the kingdom in disguise in search of a bride."

Too taken off guard to think of anything else, Catarina blurted out, "Why?"

There were, after all, as the merchants had said, more conventional ways of finding a bride, such as hosting balls or arranging to have foreign princesses presented. Certainly anything would be easier than having the prince personally scour the kingdom, sifting through thousands of prospective girls, all without a drop of royal blood in their veins.

"Because," the prince replied. "I'm looking for someone very special. Someone who can't be found among all the princesses and ladies at court." He smiled brilliantly at her. "Now, seeing as my true identity has been revealed to you, I insist that you accompany me to the palace. You can ride in one of the royal carriages. It'll certainly be more comfortable than our current arrangement."

Catarina was acutely aware of the guards' presence close by. Unable to refuse, she simply nodded helplessly.

※※※

The royal carriage was, indeed, more comfortable. Its interior was made of polished mahogany with gold gilding. Plush blue velvet cushions covered the benches, and a slender stand with refreshments was pushed into one corner, the pitcher of lemonade rattling as the carriage bounced along. Frankfurt sank down into one of the cushions with a contented sigh and promptly began to snore. They were the only occupants, as Prince Lucion had ordered the carriage vacated for them. Catarina drew back the velvet curtains and watched the fields rolling past. She could see Prince Lucion riding at the head of the procession, still wearing his tattered peasant's clothes. They entered the walls of the city, the horses' hooves clacking on the cobblestone streets, and moved swiftly through it. A view of the ocean unfurled beyond the windowpanes as they left the city behind. The sky was lavender and midnight blue as nightfall began to descend. The terrain became vague and shadowy as the party continued through the night. Catarine curled up in the same fashion as Frankfurt and slept. Several times, when they stopped for a brief break, the prince poked his head into the carriage to check on her.

The second day of travel was much the same as the first. Prince Lucion rode in the carriage with her during the morning, entertaining her with his scintillating conversation. Catarina did her best to appear glad for his company and not uncomfortable or reluctant. It was still a mystery to her why he was so determined to bring her to the royal palace. She was glad, though, for the carriage's luxury and swift progress, and she tried her best to convey this in her small smiles and murmured responses to Prince Lucion's remarks.

Around noon, with the sun blazing high in the sky, they finally reached the city of Courtside. The city, visible through the carriage windows, was bustling and grand. Wide cobbled streets wound between tall, tightly packed buildings. Perfectly manicured hedges circled walkways, and marble fountains gleamed in pavilions. Elegantly dressed ladies twirled parasols against the midday sun, strolling past sweeping shop windows, and gentlemen clad in handsomely cut waistcoats stood at street corners. Blue and gold banners trailed from the streetlamps, and arched bridges hung over deep canals. Catarina saw several people with animals at their heels and suspected some of them were not ordinary pets but Companions.

The shops had begun to give way to houses, and the houses were growing grander and grander, with towering stories, ornately wrought fences, and gilded turrets. Despite herself, a tingle of anticipation ran up Catarina's spine as she pressed her nose to the window and watched the golden gates of the palace curve into view.

She had never seen anything so magnificent in all her life. The palace gardens stretched in a dizzying green maze, dappled with flowers and blossoming trees, within the circle of a wide moat. In the very center of the gardens was the palace itself. Dozens of arches and towers stretched up towards the picturesque blue sky, shining golden under the midday sunlight. The palace's turrets were tipped in gleaming blue, and great balconies curved around several of the upper walls. The moat waters glittered like freshly-cut gems in shades of emerald and sapphire, floating with white lilies, and the bright flickers of jeweled fish flashed beneath its surface. Catarina momentarily forgot how to breathe as the party of royal guards crossed the massive drawbridge in a clatter of wheels and hooves and approached the palace's grandly arched entrance.

Catarina stumbled as she disembarked from the carriage, her legs clumsy from the long ride. Prince Lucion caught her arm with a dashing smile. His plain, threadbare clothes looked out of place among the splendor of the palace, but his fair, refined features and crystal blue eyes belonged perfectly.

"I've instructed Officer Bailey to show you to your rooms. You'll be staying in the West Tower," he said, guiding her up the great flight of snowy marble steps leading to the palace's towering double doors. He pointed to the West Tower, which glimmered with a great, intricate stained glass window depicting the royal crest. "You're going to have a wonderful time at dinner tonight. I'll introduce you to my mother and father, and, of course, Marielle."

"Marielle?" Catarina managed to wheeze; she was breathless from climbing the stairs.

"My younger sister. I'm sure you'll get along splendidly," he gestured to Frankfurt, springing lightly up the steps beside her. "She also has a Companion animal."

Catarina gasped when she entered the room Officer Bailey had escorted her to in the palace's West Tower. It faced out into the gardens at the back of the palace, providing a marvelous view of the city beyond. But the interior of the room made a far more dramatic impression of Catarina than the view.

"Ooh," Frankfurt meowed admiringly as he strolled in behind her. "Now this is more like it."

The room was as large as both the house in Carnine and the shoe shop put together. Its sweeping ceiling was elaborately tiled with a mosaic of turquoise and jade. The floor was covered with an elaborately woven carpet, the deep color of moss growing in lush flourishes in the forest, and a canopied, four-poster bed, shrouded with gold and silver fabric, rested in the center of the room. Catarina passed through an arching doorway set into one wall and discovered it led to a lavish bathroom of snowy marble. A dozen gilt-framed mirrors reflected her wide-eyed face back at her, and there, in the middle of the room, was a magnificent, clawed bathtub with golden faucets and a flawless white basin. Warm light flickered from sconces high on the walls. She let out an awe-struck sigh. Perhaps everything that had happened was worth it after all, if it had led her to this. Frankfurt leapt lightly up onto the marble counter top and admired his reflection in the mirror. His cunning yellow eyes met hers, reflected in the glass.

"The prince seems to rather like you," he remarked, casually swishing his bushy gray tail back and forth.

"I can't imagine why. It's rather strange, isn't it?" Catarina murmured, pressing her fingers to her lips, but she wasn't in the mood to dwell on such puzzles. Instead, she prepared herself to take the longest, warmest, and most divine bath of her life.

※※※

After she'd bathed, napped, and donned one of the fine gowns hanging in her wardrobe, Catarina was escorted to the palace's great dining hall by a maid uniformed in pale blue. Her presence was announced by a man at the entrance to the hall as she stepped inside. A seemingly endless table of dark, polished wood ran down the length of the hall, reflecting gleams of golden light cast by the glittering crystal chandeliers hanging from the high, arched ceiling. The air rang with the bright clink and chime of silverware as a steady stream of uniformed servants brought out dish after dish, whisking away the old ones before they'd hardly cooled. Rich, mingled scents of spices, meats, and vegetables enveloped Catarina, rising up from the braised pork, roasted chicken, glazed steak, spring-colored salads, vegetable stew, bowls of ripe, honeyed fruit, and countless other dishes ladening the length of the table. Catarina had never seen such a feast in all her life. Winding between her legs, Frankfurt looked dumbstruck, his eyes so big and round with wonder they looked as if they might swallow the moon.

Reluctantly, Catarina was forced to tear her eyes away from the marvelous display of food in order to look at the two golden thrones residing at the head of the table. These, she supposed, were Prince Lucion's parents. The queen was delicate and fair, with glass-blue eyes. The king was much darker and more imposing, with sharp features and a certain keen hardness to his clear gaze that made Catarina uncomfortable. They were both wearing crowns, although the queen's was so light and slender it hardly held a candle to her gloriously embroidered silver gown. The king's was heavier and set with diamonds and rubies that glittered in the sumptuous lighting like teardrops and drops of spilled blood.

Seated to the king's right was Prince Lucion. He was no longer in his tattered peasant clothes. Instead, he was decked out in blue and gold finery that made his eyes glimmer like gems. Clothed in silk and velvet, it seemed impossible to mistake him for anything but a prince. He looked, Catarina thought, like every inch his father's son.

Seated to the left of the queen was a girl who appeared to be a couple years younger than Catarina. She was dark-haired and dressed in a blue and gold gown that matched the prince's. Perched on her lap was a small, fluffy, black and white dog with a beard fantastic enough to rival the king's. This had to be Princess Marielle.

The king gestured for Catarina to sit. She settled herself as daintily as possible in the chair closest to the princess's.

"My son tells me you come from the humble town of Carnine," the king said. He smiled as he spoke, but the smile lacked warmth and was not as welcoming as he seemed to intend it to be.

Catarina found herself rather tongue-tied, but at the urging of the royal family, she recounted the tales she'd told Prince Lucion of her rescue as a baby and recent adventures in the woods. To her surprise, both the king and queen listened attentively, although she couldn't tell if it was simply from politeness.

Prince Lucion shot her several glances as she spoke, a smile playing in his crystal blue eyes. Catarina did her best to pretend she didn't notice. The attention he was paying her made her uncomfortable. She couldn't tell if it was because he was a prince or if it was because the way he looked at her was as if there was some secret between them—a secret she didn't quite understand.

"What does green mush taste like?" Princess Marielle asked. She was eating a piece of bread, and the dog in her lap appeared to also be eating a piece of bread.

Catarina pinched Frankfurt's tail in warning. He was eyeing the table as if considering whether he should jump on top of it. "It's hard to say, because every day it tastes worse than the day before." She bit into an apple, its rosy skin crisp beneath her teeth, and avoided another look from Prince Lucion.

"I can't imagine not being able to eat bread. I live for bread," Princess Marielle declared. She popped a crust into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before switching subjects. "Were you surprised when you summoned your Companion?"

"Very," Catarina said honestly. "I never knew my parents, so I wasn't expecting it in the least."

The queen parted her lips as if to say something, and Catarina saw the king stiffen, but the princess interrupted before she could speak. "I summoned Pippin when I was twelve. She rather likes cats. She might get along quite well with yours."

Catarina nodded agreeably. She quite liked the princess. She seemed much less stiff than the king and queen, and she certainly was less discomfiting than the prince. Marielle darted in and out of the conversation throughout the meal, and Catarina began to have the distinct impression that the princess was acting as a sort of shield, parrying the other royals every time they advanced and seemed on the verge of sinking their swords into Catarina, revealing whatever it was that hung unsaid in the air. Catarina wondered what could possibly be so cutting if spoken that Princess Marielle felt the need to protect her from it.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud, petulant meow. Frankfurt had been eyeing the salmon fillets and roasted chicken for quite some time, and he'd grown impatient.

"Oh, your poor cat!" Princess Marielle cried. She sprang to her feet with her dog, Pippin, expertly cradled in her arms in the manner one would hold a baby. "Of course!" She responded directly to Frankfurt. "You may eat whatever you like." She began to pile a small plate with various meats. Frankfurt supervised her, looking deeply gratified.

Frankfurt appeared to enjoy the remainder of the meal more than anyone else. He licked his plate clean and then appealed to Princess Marielle for seconds. The meal seemed to be formally over when the king retired, followed shortly by the queen. Catarina was in the middle of excusing herself when Princess Marielle caught her by the arm.

"Won't you join me for a walk in the gardens?" She asked. "It'll be the perfect opportunity to see if our Companions get along."

Catarina obliged. She much preferred the idea of spending time with Princess Marielle over spending time with Prince Lucion.

The night air was cool and smelled of flowers. Princess Marielle led her down a pebbled path winding between towering hedges. Stars glimmered faintly overhead, eclipsed by the glittering golden lights of the palace. Frankfurt and Pippin wove in and out of the flower bushes in fluffy blurs. Frankfurt had been standoffish at first, but he had quickly taken to the little dog. Now, as he gazed at her, his yellow eyes swimming with the palace lights, Catarina thought that if she hadn't known better, she would've mistaken his expression for being love-struck.

Princess Marielle chatted merrily, picking blossoms from the trees and twirling them between her fingers. Only a hint of shadow showed on her face, illuminated as they passed under one of the palace windows, and its light streamed down over them. Finally, the princess turned to Catarina, her cheerfulness falling away as she spoke. "I want to tell you something." She hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. "There's something I think you should know about your past."

"My past?" Catarina was puzzled.

"Yes, it's about your parents." Princess Marielle worried the stem of a blossom, plucking at it with nervous fingers.

"You mean the ones who raised me?"

"I-" whatever the princess had been about to say was cut off by a maid hurrying down the path towards them.

"Your Highness," the maid curtsied. "Your presence is requested in your chambers."

Princess Marielle frowned, but she followed the maid back towards the palace, Pippin scampering at her heels. Catarina couldn't help but wonder if it was just a coincidence that she'd been called away before she could reveal whatever had been bothering her about Catarina's past. What could Princess Marielle, or any of the other royals, for that matter, possibly know about her past? Catarina continued wondering late into the night, even after she was back in her rooms and tucked into the grand canopied bed.