It was quite a merry gathering that had amassed inside the workshop, and Cinder wasn't sure he liked any of it.

The knight, at least, wasn't too bad. She was leaning against the doorframe with her hands in her pockets, sharing the occasional exasperated glance with him but otherwise minding her business. He wished the same could be said about his step-family. The girls were all jitters and nerves, rustling and bustling back and forth, constantly adjusting their clothes and offering food or drinks or other favors to the guests. Even Hestia had turned up, and though she was a bit more subtle, Cinder could still tell she was just as eager to please as her daughters.

And then…

"I'm bored," Prince Gemstone complained, sitting the wrong way on a chair that was sizes too small for him. "What's taking you so long? Stop scribbling and help me already!"

…there was him.

"For the fifteenth time," Cinder snapped, looking up from his notes, "I am helping you. You said to ask the local shoemakers. I'm listing all of them off for you, with their exact addresses, so Your Royal Cluelessness doesn't get lost on the way."

"I wouldn't get lost, you bastard! How hard can it be to find a bunch of shoe shops?"

"There are many! If you have a list, you can cross them off one by one!" Cinder clicked his tongue. "What else do you want me to do, go out and drag your beloved out of the nearest cupboard?"

The prince scoffed. "You wouldn't even recognize him!"

"You don't say," Cinder lied. "I haven't seen him. So maybe you could kill your boredom by describing him to me."

The prince pursed his lips, pondering the idea. Then his eyes lit up with wistful reminiscence. "He was…"

"Yes?" Cinder asked impatiently. The look in the prince's eyes was making him uncomfortable.

"…beautiful."

Cinder's head nearly hit the desk. "Care to be more precise?"

"You're so unromantic!"

"I'm trying to find a person here! Someone I've never met!" Cinder double-checked with the old map in front of him, then pushed aside the finished list. "So maybe go into a little more detail. How old was he?"

"About my age," the prince answered, then paused, eyeing Cinder closely. "Our age," he corrected himself.

"Height?"

The prince thought for a moment, then indicated something in the general vicinity of Cinder's height. "Like this?"

"So, average. Hair?"

"How dare you call him average!"

"If someone's height is average, then that's what it is!" Cinder shot back. "I asked you something, Your Highness! What do you remember about his hair?"

Prince Gemstone sobered up. "Black," he answered. "About down to here," he continued, indicating shoulder-length. "Slicked back…very shiny and silky and—"

"Skin tone?" Cinder cut him off before he could start gushing any more.

The prince flushed with indignation. "Don't interrupt me! How dare you?"

"Who was complaining about me taking too long just a moment ago, huh?"

"I can take however long I want! I'm the prince! And you're just a stupid, stupid peasant who's lucky I asked him for help!" The prince stuck out his tongue. "I could ruin your life with a snap of my fingers! So there!"

"What, because your daddy accidentally inherited a position of power that he'll pass on to you someday?" Cinder muttered under his breath. "Color me terrified."

Hestia and the girls gasped. Even the prince's bodyguard looked shocked, though her expression had a distinct gleeful edge.

Prince Gemstone himself, however, didn't gasp. Instead he jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting on, marched across the room and lifted Cinder up by the collar of his shirt.

"Say that again," he dared.

Cinder narrowed his eyes. Part of him was panicking, frantically telling him that now he had definitely taken it too far. The other part was too annoyed to care. "I said you're Daddy's little brat," he said, "and you'd be nothing without his power."

The prince's eyes widened. Letting go of Cinder's collar with one hand, he raised a fist to punch him in the face.

"Your Highness, would you like a piece of pie?"

The prince turned around, lowering his hand. Cinder freed himself and stepped away. For once he was grateful that Izetta had been there to deescalate the situation.

"It's pumpkin pie," she said, holding out the plate. Her hands were shaking. "Our mother makes it herself. It's not what you'd get at the palace, of course, but…"

Taking the offered slice, the prince took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "This is good," he said. "Is there more?"

Izetta scrambled to get him seconds.

"See," he remarked as he ate, "this is how you treat a prince in your house. With honor."

"Maybe if the prince in question behaved more honorably," Cinder answered, "I would."

"If you weren't so smart, I'd have you executed."

"So you're a tyrant, then? Can the crown prince not handle criticism?"

"Enough, you two," the knight interrupted before they could start fighting again. "We were in the middle of describing the person we're looking for, right? Gem, he asked about the skin tone."

"Oh yeah, that." The prince finished up his slice of pie. "Hmm, brown. Light brown. A bit darker than you, Olly."

Cinder sighed. The bodyguard was right, they should continue with the job; the sooner they got this done, the better for all of them. "Eye color?"

"Black as the night."

"Build?"

"I already told you how tall he was," the prince said, looking smug, as if he had caught him not paying full attention.

"Not the height, the build. Broad? Slim? Muscular? Skinny?" Cinder crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "What, did Your Royal Highness not know the difference between height and build?"

"I did! I just forgot," the prince answered. "If you need to know, he was…kind of wiry." He tried to show the shape with his hands. "Bit hard to tell under his suit and everything. And he had a nice jawline," he added as an afterthought.

It took all Cinder had not to bring a self-conscious hand up to his face. Did he? He hadn't noticed.

"Any other notable features you can remember?" he asked to distract them both.

The prince shrugged. "Not really. He was wearing a mask."

"That so."

Cinder leaned back in his chair, eyeing him up and down. "Are you sure," he said, "that you'd even recognize the guy out of costume?"

"Of course!" the prince burst out. "I'd recognize him anywhere, in anything. Even in rags."

"If you say so," Cinder answered, looking down at his worn-out shirt.

"Don't believe me?"

Cinder made no comment.

"Anyway," the knight came to the rescue, "to sum up. We're looking for a young man, about eighteen, average height, wiry, brown skin, black hair down to his shoulders, black eyes. Does anyone here know someone who'd fit the description?"

Cinder shook his head. "Never met anyone like that."

It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself.

"We haven't either, my lady," Hestia added. "At least, no one except Cinder, and he didn't attend the ball."

Cinder swallowed. Was that hint enough to make them figure it out?

But to his immense relief, the prince only pulled a face. "It can't be him, anyway," he said. "My beloved wasn't such a jerk."

Cinder thanked the sun, moon, stars, and all the deities he could think of for the power of selective obliviousness.

"That aside," he said, "I'm done with the list. Follow it and you'll do a full tour around the region. It should be listed in the right order."

The prince took it from his hand, studying it closely. "You are useful," he muttered. "I'm glad I didn't have you executed."

Cinder scoffed. "Thanks for not being a tyrant, I guess."

"Good." The prince rose to his feet. "When are we leaving?"

He hadn't addressed the question to his knight, Cinder realized. Which was somehow very alarming.

"We?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Who's we?"

"Me, Olly, and you," the prince answered as if that was obvious. "Who else?"

"I have to come along?"

Oh no, he thought. No, no, no, no.

"Sure," the prince replied. "You're the sidekick."

"I'm nobody's sidekick!" Cinder spluttered, glaring at him. "There's no reason for me to come along! What should I even do?"

"Make sure we don't get scammed by the other shoemakers," the prince said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Duh."

"Don't duh me! Why would they try to scam you and I wouldn't?"

"Because"—the prince lifted a self-important finger—"the others might try to trick me into marrying somebody they know. And you're so insufferable, there's no way in hell you're trying to marry me."

You're absolutely right, Cinder thought. I'd rather kiss a tarantula.

"For once you're correct," he said out loud. "I applaud your perceptiveness."

"See? So, there, you have to come along."

Cinder gritted his teeth. Anything but that. An evening with this guy had been bad enough; a journey together with him sounded like something straight from the pits of hell.

What excuses did he have?

He couldn't use work and the money he needed to make; Prince Gemstone had offered him enough to rule that excuse out for years. Then what? He didn't really have any other interfering duties. He just really, truly, wholeheartedly didn't want to.

Oh!

"But I thought you disliked me," he said, regarding him with mocking eyes. "Why would you want to take someone like me along on a journey?"

The prince squirmed, and Cinder knew he had struck the mark with this one. "Because you're useful," he said. "And your usefulness outweighs how much you suck."

This time it was Cinder's turn to grimace. He was out of excuses.

"So," the prince went on, "when are we going?"

"…not before tomorrow."

Cinder couldn't believe he was saying this. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. And yet, here he was. Dragged into more nonsense against his will. Would this madness ever have an end?

"The whole journey will take at least a few days," he explained, "up to a week. It's already getting dark outside. No point in setting out now."

The prince frowned.

"But," he began.

"Your beloved can wait," Cinder interrupted, guessing what he was getting at. "The ball wasn't yesterday. One more day won't make a difference."

The prince pouted. "Maybe it will, and you don't know it."

"You're welcome to try and find your way in the dark."

"You have no heart."

Cinder almost let out a bitter laugh. "People have told me that before," he said. "For all I know, it might as well be true."

The prince regarded him oddly. Like he was trying to make sense of his expression, read his thoughts. Like he was trying to understand him, even. Never mind that he had absolutely no reason to care.

Turning away, Cinder lowered his head, letting his hair fall into his face. He didn't like this look. It felt wrong. Someone like the prince shouldn't be trying to understand him. Hestia and the girls should have done that, and maybe his father's friends. A virtual stranger had no business caring about his personal affairs.

"He's right, you know," the prince's knight saved the situation. "We should return to the palace and then start tomorrow. By the time we get anywhere, the workshops will just be closed, anyway."

Prince Gemstone nodded and stood up. "Probably," he grumbled. "If the shoemaker guy hadn't taken so long with his list…"

"At least we have a lead now." The knight turned towards Cinder. "Thanks a lot for your help," she said, bowing. "If this guy here ever causes you trouble, feel free to contact me about it. Ask for Sir Olive Steelsheen at the palace."

Cinder stood up and bowed in his turn. "Thank you."

"Why do you bow to Olly and not me?" the prince burst out as he was being ushered outside. "Bow to me too, peasant!"

Then, suddenly, all was quiet.

Going back to his abandoned work, Cinder wondered what would happen if he made like his masked alter ego and ran away in the middle of the night.