Suddenly, the prince spotted a different horse across the way, one that was sprinting haphazardly and was dangerously close to throwing its rider.

Quickly guiding his horse toward it, the prince reached out and grabbed the reins, pulling with all his might. The two horses slowed and started to circle each other. It was then that the prince got a good look at the girl astride the other horse. Her hair was tangled about her face, and her dress was mottled with mud. But when she looked at him, her blue eyes were clear and unafraid. For a moment, he found himself lost in their depths, seeing sadness behind the courage.

The prince let out a sigh. He was tired of the endless hunts. The pageantry of it all… the racing endlessly through the forest after a helpless beast that had done nothing to deserve its fate. Yet he was the prince. The day's hunt had started out like any other. The baying of the hounds as the horn was blown. The initial rush he felt as the throng of horses took off, their heads pulling at the bits in their eagerness. But after that, the prince had felt nothing. He galloped along, his head a million miles away, as men whooped and hollered around him.

The prince stifled a smile. It was amusing to hear his own thoughts echoed back to him aloud. "I confess I have never met him before. Is he a friend of yours?"

"I'm all right. But you've nearly frightened the life out of him," the girl replied.

"The stag," the girl said matter-of-factly. "What has he ever done to you that you should chase him about?"

Her answer surprised him and the prince cocked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"An acquaintance," she answered. "We met just now. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine, and I felt he had a great deal left to do with his life. That's all."

For a moment, the prince was struck silent. He had never met a girl like this before. He was used to folks falling all over themselves to say whatever they thought would please him. But this girl? She was the most forthright person he had ever met. And he wanted to know more about her.

To his surprise, the girl blushed, as though the question made her uncomfortable. "Never mind what they call me," she said.

"What do they call you?" he asked.

The question brought the prince up short. Clearly she didn't know who he was, and he didn't want to spoil the moment by revealing his true identity. He racked his brain, unsure what to say. Finally, he decided to tell her a part truth. "They call me Kit," he said. It was his childhood nickname, used by his father.

"I'm not alone," the girl said, shrugging. "I'm with you." Then she paused. "What do they call you?"

"I, uh, live at the palace," he stammered. "My father is teaching me his trade." Again, it wasn't exactly a lie. He did live at the palace, though his "trade" was not traditional.

The prince watched as she began to check her horse, clearly anxious to make sure he was all right. She seemed undaunted by the forest around her and the strange man in front of her. "You shouldn't be this deep in the forest alone," the prince said, trying not to stare at her hair, turned golden by the sun.

The girl nodded. "Where do you live, Mr. Kit?" she asked.

"You're an apprentice?" the girl asked. "That is very fine. Do they treat you well?"

"I'm sorry," Kit said, his voice gentle. For some reason, the sadness in her eyes made him angry. He wanted to find out who would cause such a look in a girl who seemed so strong.

"It's not your doing," the girl replied. Then she straightened her shoulders and her eyes grew bright again. "It's not so very bad. Others have it worse, I'm sure. We must simply have courage and be kind, mustn't we?"

Kit was beginning to feel slightly guilty. He didn't want to lie to her, but this was one of the most interesting conversations he had had in a while. That would change if she found out he was royalty. "Better than I deserve, most likely," he finally answered. Then, trying to change the subject, he asked, "And you?"

Kit was taken aback. "Yes, you're right." It was a simple notion, but the girl said it with such conviction. It echoed his own feelings, and he felt himself on the verge of saying so. But then the sound of a horn echoed through the forest.

A look of sadness flashed across the girl's face. "They treat me as well as they are able," she said.

Another peal of the hunting horn blasted through the woods, and at the edge of the clearing a man on horseback appeared. Kit stifled a groan. This was his captain of the guard, and he was obviously not pleased the prince had slipped his watch.

"And I, you," she replied.

"But… we're hunting," Kit explained. "It's what's done."

The girl looked panicked. "Please don't let them hurt him!" she shouted.

The prince quickly interrupted him. "It's Kit. I'm Kit," he said, his meaning clear. "And I'm on my way."

She returned his smile. "Thank you very much, Mr. Kit," she said.

"All right," he agreed, smiling.

"Your High --" the Captain began.

An amused expression crossed the Captain's face, but he left it at that. Kit met the girl's gaze. "I hope that I will see you again," he said.

Before either of them could say anything else, the horn gave another frantic blast, and Kit turned his horse. As he galloped away, he snuck one last look over his shoulder. The girl stood there, holding her horse's reins in one hand, the other raised in a wave goodbye. As she disappeared from sight, Kit felt a funny sadness fill his chest. She was the most interesting girl he had ever met. What if he never got to see her again?

"Just because it's what's done doesn't mean it's what should be done," the girl said. "Leave him alone, won't you?"

The next day Kit stood in his father's bedroom, waiting as the royal physician finished his examination of the king. The older man stood there, clearly annoyed by a process that was becoming all too familiar. Finally, the visit over, Kit helped his father back into his tunic and then began to lead him toward a chair. But his father shooed him away and deliberately continued to stand.

"You sound as if you're the first fellow who ever met a pretty girl," King Frederick said, continuing their earlier conversation. Ever since Kit had arrived home from the previous day's hunt, he had talked of nothing but this mysterious girl in the woods.

"You've only met her once. How can you know anything about her?"

Kit let out a sigh. "She wasn't a pretty girl," he retorted. Then he corrected himself. "Well, she was a pretty girl. But there was so much more to her."

Kit had a quick answer for that. "You told me you knew right away when you met Mother." The king groaned. His son was as stubborn as he had been at that age. "That's different," he snapped. "Your mother was a princess."

"How much more?" King Frederick asked.

The king simply shook his head. "It's the way of all flesh, boy. Come. We will be late. And punctuality is the politeness of princes."

But his father shook his head. "I would never have met her, because it wouldn't have been appropriate. And my father would have told me what I'm telling you. And I would have listened."

"You would have loved her anyway," Kit replied. That was true. His mother and father had had a grand love.

Kit smiled. "No, you wouldn't." Then he turned to the doctor, who had been quietly packing up his tools and trying hard not to listen in on the conversation. "How is he?" The doctor took a moment, as though trying to figure out the best way to deliver the news.

The pause spoke volumes, and the king raised a hand, stopping him. "Never mind. If it takes that long to work out a way to say it, I already know it's bad."

"Father," Kit began, all earlier thoughts of teasing evaporated.

Kit sighed. There was no sense arguing with his father when his mind was set. So he helped the older man into his jacket, and together they strode out of the room.

"My King," the Grand Duke said as the men started walking down the corridor. He narrowed his gaze at Kit. "Your Highness. I am sure your father spoke to you of your behavior in the forest?"

In the corridor they were joined by two men, the Grand Duke and the Captain of the Guard. While the Captain was tall and muscular, the Grand Duke was shorter, his round belly sticking out over his pants. Despite their physical differences, the two men had two common goals -- to keep the king and prince safe and to look after the well-being of the kingdom. How they did so differed, however. The Grand Duke followed the letter of the law to a tee; the Captain was a bit more lax, making him Kit's ally on more than one occasion.

A flash of blue eyes and blond hair popped into Kit's mind, and he found himself echoing the girl's words. "Just because it's what's done doesn't mean it's what should be done." The three older men stopped and stared at him. Kit shrugged. "Or something like that."

"Is it any business of yours, Grand Duke?" Kit replied.

The Grand Duke puffed out his chest. "My business is your business, Your Highness," he said, sounding miffed. "It will not do to let the stag go free."

The group resumed their walk. "Still the dreamer," King Frederick said, trying not to smile. While he would never admit it out loud, he remembered what it felt like to be young and optimistic. "I had hoped that a bit of campaigning would knock some sense into you." He turned and addressed the Captain. "What have you got to say?"

"Sometimes I fear for this kingdom," King Frederick replied, not sure whether the Captain meant his comment as a good or bad thing.

The Captain was an experienced soldier who had fought alongside the prince in many a battle. "I'd say the war knocked some common sense out of him, sir. While I have never seen a fellow more brave, he exhibited a very troublesome tendency to… think."

Silence fell over the group as they left the grand hall and entered one of the palace's many salons. An artist was setting up his paints. Upon their entrance, he bowed low.

"Make him look marriageable, Master Phineas," the king ordered the portraitist, causing Kit to groan. "We must attract a suitable bride, even if he is a terrible dunce."

"Yes," King Frederick replied. "If we can convince a princess of sufficient rank that you are not a dunderhead, we may secure a powerful alliance."

"I shall endeavor to please, Your Highness," the artist replied seriously. Then, taking a quick look at Kit, who was doing his best to look awkward and very unmarriageable, he added under his breath, "But I can't work bloody miracles." He turned back to a large canvas that stretched at least a dozen feet into the air. Already the beginnings of the portrait could be seen -- the prince, astride a beautiful horse, holding a sword high in his hand as though to say, "Onward!" The only thing left to do was the face -- if Kit would cooperate.

Kit started to laugh but a stern look from the artist stopped him. "At this ball you and the Grand Duke insist upon?" The ball had been the topic of discussion for far too long in his opinion.

The prince begrudgingly climbed onto a saddle on a sawhorse. "So these portraits will be sent abroad?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Sitting on his fake horse, Kit wanted to scream. He had been born into this life. He had not asked for it, and now he felt as though he were a prized pig being fattened up to sell at market. He knew he was lucky in many ways. But the freedom of the girl in the woods? That was something he could never have.

"At which you will choose a bride," the king said. Kit shot him a look, and King Frederick went on, his voice stern. "It has always been done; it is how it will be done."

"We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Your Highness," the Grand Duke added. "And it is a dangerous world. We must get what allies we can."

"If I must marry," the prince said aloud, "why could I not wed, say… a good, honest country girl?"

Taking a gentler tone, the king tried to make the point clear. "You will be king soon, Son. You know I am not well." The others began to protest but he hushed them and went on. "For myself, I do not mind. I have had a good life. But I would have you -- and the kingdom -- safe and secure."

The Grand Duke scoffed. "How many divisions of infantry would this 'good, honest country girl' provide us?"

Kit felt a wave of remorse for being so stubborn. His father was ill and he meant well. Suddenly, Kit had an idea. Perhaps there was a way to appease his father and get a chance to see the girl from the woods again. He knew that if his father met her, he would see why Kit was so intrigued. "All right, I will agree to the ball." The Grand Duke began to clap, but Kit went on. "On one condition. The invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. The wars have brought sorrow enough." He looked at his father. "If you were in my place, you would do the same."

The Grand Duke, however, seemed pleased with the outcome. "I think we may have struck a bargain," he said. "A ball for the people, a princess for the prince."

The king shook his head. "But I don't want to do what I would in your place. I want you to do what I, in my place, tell you, in your place, to do." Realizing that he was making no sense, the king threw his hands up in the air.