Maren was about to sit down to dinner when there was a sharp knock at her door. It was a few days after her dinner with the royal family. They had been mercifully quiet days, but she was coming to expect disruptions two or three times a week.

She answered the door and was not terribly surprised to find the Prince. It was not as if she had other callers.  But she was surprised he was calling upon her so late. Surely, it was well past the appropriate time to parade in the gardens.

"Your Highness," she greeted, bobbing a curtsy.

"I am tired of dining alone," he announced.

Maren blinked at him, she had no idea what he was trying to say.

"I'm sorry?" she said.

The Prince exhaled loudly. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Oh!" Maren was surprised, that was not at all what she expected.

"All right, let me just —" she gestured at the meal laid out on her dining table.

"Yes, of course," he said and then added, "May I assist you?"

"No, thank you," she said, moving her plates and things back onto a tray the staff had left behind.

There was a somewhat awkward shuffle at the door as he held it open for her, and she carried the tray, but then she wasn't sure where he had been eating and needed him to lead the way. He led her through the receiving room and into a smaller room with a large dining table. It was actually rather cozy with more of the same dark wood paneling that was in the receiving room but without the garish gilded furniture. There was a large chandelier giving off low light.

The Prince's dinner things were at one end of the table, and Maren set down her tray nearby. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Maren felt the urge to make conversation, but was not quite sure what the boundaries were for her behavior. They seemed to be constantly shifting, and she was cautious of overstepping them.

"How...was your day?" the Prince asked hesitantly.

Maren paused. He had never asked her such a question.

"Ah, fine...uneventful," she answered. "And yours?"

"Also...ah...fine," he responded.

Maren had had better conversations with horses.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," she said, attempting to hide her enthusiasm for the notion. She hoped wine would make things somewhat less strained.

He looked at her with amusement and she blushed.  She had perhaps not done an impressive job of hiding her thoughts.

"Our circumstances are somewhat...awkward," the Prince admitted, pouring the wine.

"That is certainly one way to describe it," Maren scoffed.

They sipped their wine.

"I must admit, I am not accustomed to having...ah... guests," he told her.

"So I've heard," she replied. Then, deciding that she might learn something useful if she mentioned it, said, "I had assumed that you would not have chosen anyone to join your household."

Everyone, even people in the North, knew the Crown Prince had stopped choosing women in the Selection years ago. It had generated a fair bit of talk and even speculation that his interests lay in a far more scandalous direction.

"Well, you didn't leave me much choice," he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him quizzically.

"When you -" he gestured at her hands "- I was fairly certain Kieran noticed. I don't imagine that someone like you would enjoy being in the household of the head of the Trackers."

Maren's stomach dropped. She set down her wine glass.

"Does he know?" she asked, staring intently at her plate.

"I'm not entirely sure. I could tell you were the one who -" he gestured at her hands again "-because of the look on your face. But I'm not convinced that he saw it. He took the girl who was next to you anyway, but likely he's ruled out Lady Callista as a witch by now. Unless you travel in pairs?"

She scowled. "I've never met another living person like me."

She hadn't known Lady Callista had been the woman standing next to her. Maren had been so frightened, she doubted she would have noticed if her own mother had been standing beside her. She would have to have a word with her about her choices in perfume.

He shrugged. "In any case, whether Kieran knows or suspects, he can't prove anything."

He seemed much less concerned than Maren felt. She looked down at her plate and pushed bits of chicken around with her fork. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry at all. It had been bad enough to discover that Prince Donovan knew her secret. But, for reasons she could only guess at, he had made it fairly clear he had no plans to turn her over to the Trackers.

Prince Kieran was an entirely different matter. It was his job to hunt down people like her. Not only that, he had given her the terrible sense that he was looking forward to eventually capturing her. She shuddered at the thought.

"You needn't worry," Prince Donovan said, dismissing her unspoken fears. "He cannot arrest you while you're part of my household."

Maren frowned. "He cannot, or he will not?" she asked.

"Cannot," he confirmed. "It's the law, members of the royal family and their households cannot be arrested for any crime without concrete evidence and the approval of a majority of the King's Council. As he has no evidence, he cannot meet the first criteria and as for the second, if he wanted sway over the council, he should spend more time building relationships there than expanding the Trackers."

Maren nodded but remained unconvinced. Could Prince Kieran find some way around that rule? Could he fabricate evidence? And what would happen in a year when she was no longer in a royal household?

Prince Donovan's nonchalance annoyed her. They were discussing her life and safety as though it were of no more significance than what she had for breakfast. She recognized that for him, it probably was about the same level of importance, and that did very little to improve her sense of well-being.

She was very much regretting having agreed to dine with the Prince. Dining alone had been far superior.

—

By the time she had been at the palace for four or five weeks, Donovan had developed a sort of routine with The Girl.  Every few days they would walk in the gardens in the afternoon and would alternate now and again with dinner. He wasn't really interested in dining with her, but he also found continuing to eat alone rather depressing.

Before she had come to the palace, he frequently dined with Alec or some of the other men at Court, or sometimes ventured into the city. Having to abruptly transition to near-hermitage to maintain the ruse of being caught up in his mistress had become tiresome.

His conversations with her were still extremely formal and stilted, but they could at least have one. He remained deeply suspicious of her and her powers, but found her company more or less tolerable. Alec had been right, talking to her a bit had made their ruse somewhat easier to maintain.

During one of their dinners, he became aware that he had inadvertently imprisoned her. He had asked her what she had done that day, and she said, as she always did, that she spent it reading.

"Did you not go out at all?" Donovan asked for the first time.

She looked at him with a bemused expression he couldn't quite read.

"I did not," she answered. "You may recall I was instructed not to leave my rooms. I thought it prudent to obey."

Donovan furrowed his brow. Had he told her not to leave? Yes, he had. On the day of the Selection. So, she had been practically trapped in her rooms for over a month.

He grimaced, ashamed. He had made that particular order in anger and frustration, and then had completely forgotten about it. And it wasn't as if she had done anything suspicious since that time. There was no real reason to keep her confined. And besides, someone was bound to notice if they only ever saw the lady in his company.

"I suppose I owe you another apology. I did not realize... I mean.... I had forgotten...it is not reasonable that you should be locked in your rooms. You should...as long as...you may roam the palace as you wish, just do not go beyond the grounds," he said, thoroughly embarrassed but trying to hide it.

"I thank you," she said.

"Is there a library?" she asked after a time. "I am growing rather tired of the books I brought with me," she added.

Donovan sighed. He had kept her so isolated she didn't even know about the library.

"There is. Perhaps...if you would be interested... I could show you around the palace. Tomorrow?"

She looked at him, studying his face. After she had found whatever it was she was looking for, she said, "That would be fine, thank you, Your Highness."

And so, the next day, he did what he really should have done—or at least have someone else do—weeks ago and showed her the palace. He took her to the library and introduced her to Master Jacobs, the ancient librarian. He was a wizened man with a long beard and thick glasses, and extraordinary knowledge about the kingdom.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," he said in his wavering voice. "We have a considerable collection of texts, both fiction and non-fiction, that you're welcome to borrow."

"I thank you, Master Jacobs. I shall visit you soon, I am sure," The Girl said.

After the library, he took her to the Hall of Kings, where portraits of past rulers lined the walls. They then went to the dusty corner of the palace where there was a temple to the gods, no longer used for religious purposes but sort of interesting in a historical sense. He showed her various statues and tapestries and paintings of interest around the palace. And they went to the highest balcony of the palace, which had stunning views of the city.

He had run out of things to show her when he suggested the stables. Assuming that a lady would have no interest in something so banal, he was surprised to see her face light up in a way he had never seen.

"I would very much like to see the stables, thank you," she said very formally, but was unable to hide the excitement on her face.

The stables were a short walk across the grounds. The palace kept a handful of horses for sport or ceremonial purposes, but the stables were much larger, built for an era before speeders when horses were the only mode of transportation. When they entered the dark space filled with the sound of friendly snorts and the smell of hay, Donovan realized he needn't have taken the lady anywhere else at all.

He could see she was enchanted; immediately going to the dappled gray mare in the first stall. She held out her hand for the horse to sniff, speaking softly to her. Donovan picked up an apple from the barrel near the door of the stables and offered it to the lady.

She looked at him in surprise, then smiled when she noticed the apple. She took it and gave it to the mare, who, apparently approving of the lady, submitted to be pet while she chewed the apple. 

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" a man called from within the stables.

It was Mr. Gregory, the horse master. An older man with grey hair and a stern manner for everyone except the horses, Mr. Gregory had overseen the stables for as long as Donovan could remember.

"She is so lovely," the lady said without looking up from the animal.

"Your Highness," Mr. Gregory bowed in greeting.

"Mr. Gregory," Donovan nodded. "May I present Lady Maren Casteris, who I expect would say hello were she not otherwise occupied," he said without anger. He was actually amused at the lady's utter engrossment in the animal.

Mr. Gregory smiled, "I think the lady and I speak the same language."

"That's Snowdrop," he told the lady, going to the mare.

Donovan watched for a moment as the two pet the mare and talked about her.

"Would you like to meet the rest?" Master Gregory asked.

"Oh, yes, please," the lady said.

Donovan felt this was as good a time as any to make his exit.

He gently touched the lady's arm to get her attention and softly said, "I need to go back to the palace, I assume you'd like to stay here?"

She nodded, still watching the horses, and, his guilty conscience assuaged, Donovan left feeling a bit lighter than he had before.

—

Maren was relieved that the Prince had found some way of interacting with her that wasn't based on hostility. She was still wary of him—he held too much power over her to not be—but being able to be more or less civil was a marked improvement.

At first, she had been puzzled by his invitations to dinner.  But she then realized if she was dining alone, then the Prince couldn't very well be out and about without giving people the impression that they had had some falling out.

Their dinners, although they started truly awful, had become at least not completely uncomfortable. She couldn't say she looked forward to them, but she didn't dread them either. It wasn't as if she had anything more interesting to do.

Since the first awkward night of her relocating her own dinner, the Prince had notified the staff of the change in plans when he wished to have company. She didn't really like the feeling of being summoned by his whims, but she supposed that was more or less what being with royalty was like.

And, the dinners had led to her being granted significantly more freedom, which she felt was an acceptable trade-off. She hadn't actually minded staying in her room, it wasn't as if she wanted to go about and socialize with the Court, but it was nice to at least be able to go outside.

With some degree of caution, Maren began to leave her rooms during the day. At first, it was very strange. For several weeks, her days consisted of doing almost the same thing day in and day out. But now she had options. What did she even want to do?

Well, she still wanted very much to flee the palace, but as that wasn't a viable option, what was left?

And so, Maren started tentatively exploring the gardens by herself. She found that she attracted far less attention when she roamed them by herself than she did with the Prince. She also found she very much enjoyed the gardens when she was not focusing on looking properly enamored with him. They were colorful and meticulously maintained. Her mother, somewhat of a garden enthusiast, would have loved them.

Maren also visited the library regularly and, of course, the stables. Horses were a necessity of travel in the North, but that didn't mean everyone actually liked them. Many people resented them, knowing that if the Crown invested in better infrastructure, they could have the faster and easier speeders of the South. But Maren loved horses.

Growing up, Maren didn't have friends, but she did have horses. She had, of course, played with the other children at the estate when she was young, but as they were the children of the staff, maintaining a true friendship was difficult. They were all friendly, but Maren was acutely aware that she was an outsider among them. And as she got older, playing with the children of the staff became less and less appropriate, so that stopped.

Had she been a normal girl, she likely would have been sent to boarding school around age fourteen to be educated, and she supposed she would have made friends there. But as she was decidedly not normal, boarding school was never an option.

So, she never had any friends, but the horses were always there for her. They were clever and compassionate animals, and she could tell a horse anything she liked. Most importantly, no horse had ever judged her for being a witch.

At first, Mr. Gregory was somewhat skeptical that Maren was actually competent at caring for a horse. He was happy enough to let her come visit and pet the horses and occasionally walk them around the paddock, but did not want to let Maren assist with grooming or other care. ("That isn't work for ladies!" he insisted.) He was very picky about who was allowed to help with the horses, and was notorious for dismissing grooms for any infraction.

But one day, one of said grooms had left out the combs and brushes after grooming the big stallion, Marcus. Maren could tell Snowdrop had not been groomed yet and, taking advantage of the absence of Mr. Gregory, took the tools and set to work.

Maren found grooming a horse soothing. The ritual of cleaning the hooves, then combing the body, untangling the mane and tail, brushing the body again and again until the coat shined, and finally cleaning the face and ears gave her the same sense of peace that meditation often did but with the added sense of having accomplished something useful.

She had nearly finished with Snowdrop and was adding a loose braid to her mane for good measure when she realized Mr. Gregory was watching her with a bemused sort of expression on his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gregory," she said, finishing the braid. She suspected he would not be pleased she had groomed the horse without permission, but she also knew she had done a fine job of it.

He came closer to survey her work and then nodded in approval. "Very well, my lady," he said. "But if you're going to lend us a hand, you'd best wear an apron."

Maren laughed as she looked down at her dress, it was filthy. "I expect the laundress will appreciate that."

She was walking back to her quarters, feeling quite a bit happier than she had in some time, when she ran into Prince Donovan, apparently going in the same direction.

"Good gods, what happened to you?" he asked.

Maren laughed. "I had an encounter with a grooming brush," she said.

He looked amused. "So Mr. Gregory finally let you brush Snowdrop?"

She had mentioned to him that she had not been permitted to help care for the horses at one of their dinners.

"More like, there was an unattended brush and I seized the opportunity," she explained.

"I see," he said. "Are you going to want to start riding them next?"

Maren, of course, wanted to, but she wasn't quite sure if that would be permitted or if asking the Prince for permission would cause problems.

"Would that be all right?" she asked cautiously.

The Prince was quiet for a moment.

"You aren't going to attempt to leave, are you?" he asked.

She took a deep breath, annoyed.

"Of course not, Your Highness," she said.

"Very well," he said. "Just don't wander too far."

Maren nodded, and they continued their walk back to the Prince's apartment in silence. She went to her rooms, grateful that night was not a night she was having dinner with him.