Monica spread the carefully scribed sheets around, reading back through what she had written. It seemed good, very good. Now to bring it to a close. She took out her pen with a flourish, and began to write. Silence reigned in the little glade as she plowed steadily on through her last five chapters. The deer wandered about a little distance from her, cropping at the tall grass. She scribbled furiously, mangling her usually neat handwriting in her hurry. There! Done! She threw her pen down, turned to the Crevasse, and read out dramatically, "And they lived happily ever after."

Finished! Finally finished! Now she could present it to the king for publication! "I'll never have to come here again! I can leave with a prince!" For she had no doubt that any good, upstanding prince would love her story. She danced through the meadow joyously, terrorising the deer, and if she had not been so loud with her mirth, she might have heard a faint rushing of wind from the Crevasse that sounded like...a sigh.

Now that the long write was over, she had no patience left. She snatched up her story and ran headlong back towards the castle. The day seemed to sympathize with her, and the sun burst out in his pale wintery glory. Away from here! Finally!

Even the old castle did not seem so gloomy with the sunlight on its old stonework. As she waltzed past the guards, she gave them both a delighted smile that made one blush. Monica went up the stairs with a light step, and set out to find the chief servant so he could take her message to her father. She glanced at the light coming from the kitchen thoughtfully. She could ask the cook...

No, better not. The woman was skilled at trampling others' joy. Monica had no time for negativity today. Boldly, she set off into the wing of the castle she rarely entered: that of the king. And the moment she passed through the door to his wing, dodging past servants, she gasped. Here the stone was swept and polished, the torch holders clean from any soot. Here the servants rushed by in a great hubbub, striving to seem busy. Here was the life the rest of the castle so longed for.

"Can I help you, miss?" a voice inquired next to her ear. 

Monica whirled. In her distraction, the very man she had been looking for had sneaked up on her. Luther, the chief servant and steward, gave her his best business smile. He was young enough, it seemed, with jet-black hair and a chin so smooth it looked as if facial hair had never ventured upon it. Something about his face set her on edge, but she smiled and said, "Luther, would you please give my father this note and this story of mine?" She held out the inkstained papers trustingly.

Luther's blue eyes bulged. "A story? Whatever is a lady like you doing with a story?" He caught himself and bowed. "Miss."

"I want to have it published, that's all." Monica smiled guilelessly, figuring it was probably better if the man did not know her motives.

"Wherever did you get the idea to write one, m'lady?" Luther asked, thumbing gently through the papers with curiosity written all over his face.

"I've always loved reading them," she said softly, surprised by the steward's demeanor. She had always avoided him, assuming he was just like the other servants, but he seemed more respectful.

Luther smiled, a real smile replacing his work smile. "You know what, m'lady, so have I." He produced a red ribbon from his coat pocket and tied the story up neatly.

Monica turned to go, but he added, "Just from the bit I skimmed through, it looks like fun. I hope his Majesty publishes it."

"Thank you." The princess smiled at the steward, feeling shocked that the most real conversation she had had with anyone for a long time was with a servant, not her family.

A servant sidled up to them and bowed to Luther. "Shall I take the missive, Luth'?"

Luther stared at the servant. "Show some respect to m'lady."

The servant stared blankly, his eyes pools of confusion. 

"Bow to HER, not me!" Luther said finally, disgust etching a grimace on his face. "Do you act like this normally? I will have you fired, sirrah, if you act like such a slob before royalty again."

The servant bowed, muttered an apology, and basically snatched the story from the steward's hands, dashing down the corridor.

Luther glared after the man, and looked ready to pursue, but Monica placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"My lady," Luther protested, "these servants owe their board and wage to you and your father. They owe you respect!" He bowed his head. "Please, allow me to discipline him."

"It's fine. It really is. I appreciate your concern, but I won't be staying here long," Monica said with a final smile as she walked away. My prince will come for me soon, she thought happily.

Luther stared after the youngest princess, frowning. "She will not be staying here long...?" he mouthed, considering her words. The princess had not visited the king's ward in years. Luther saw her very infrequently, but she was always doing well in the reports that his understeward gave him. Her words...did not sound like she was doing well. If he did not know any better, it sounded as if the princess was considering an attempt on her own life. 

Luther looked down at the floor, totally oblivious to the servants bustling all around him. This was cause for concern. 

A man hefting a cask of wine tapped him on the shoulder. "Where do I put this?"

Luther sighed, filing away the problem in his mental cabinet of issues. "Follow me, I'll show you where. Carry it carefully. That's the king's favorite drink," he directed as he led the man down the hallway. Still, he could not quite get the princess' pretty, yet almost pathetic face out of his mind.