I kept counting the miles as if they were seconds I had left to live. Depite the sun settling down beneath the horizon and the particularly annoying man whining next to me, I can’t help but keep moving.

The motion seems more than my exit ticket.

It seems like a lifeline.

“Can we stop?” The Prince complained. He’d given up his pitful demands long ago. I couldn’t help but mock him in my head. _‘I, son of King Edith, demand you stop right here, or suffer you will.’ _How stupid, like any person out here with enough sense would care about any of the kings threats. We’d give anything for leverage against his highness, even eternity rotting in his rows of cells.

Rows and rows of cells.

Metal bars so rusted they don’t gleam, grimy floors with your head resting right next to a cockroach. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.

Kids stories, are what our parents called them growing up, but as I grow older those tales seem to be becoming true.

But I supposed that sacrifice would be worth it if we could somehow overthrow Edith, though, that doesn’t seem like it could happen anytime soon, considering his son was stranded alongside me.

We have to walk at least 50 miles to the nearest village, from there, hopefully the Prince can use some of his royal leverage to summon us a ride, that is, if he doesn’t betray me on sight.

“No,” I deadpan, focusing on footstep after footstep. The red dirt must be so deterring for his highness. I bet he only lets himself walk on fresh green grass rooted in a certain shade of brown soil.

Privileged bastard.

He let out a sigh. I silently pleaded he’d give up. I wasn’t exactly eager to become friends with the man whos father I wished death upon periodically. Unless he had daddy issues, in that case, I’m sure we would get along great.

But clearly I was stuck with daddy’s bestest boy instead. He growled in frustration and kicked some dust out of his shoe.

“Does this place ever have any grass? Or pavement?”

“Nope. Only fresh, southern dirt.” I kicked up and cloud of dust with my shoes and he coughed, as if it was toxin to his lungs.

I smirked. “Sorry.”

“I suppose that apology was not sincere?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

For a moment, we had sweet silence. A moment that tasted like honeydew and strawberries, but of course, I guess the prince doesn’t like that sweet feeling. Maybe he liked roasted chicken better.

“I feel as though I should get to know you more, considering I’m practically your captive.”

“Feel free to leave any time, buddy.” I muttered.

“Yes, well, the only thing that would do would be putting us alone.”

“Sound nice.” I countered.

The prince rolled his eyes at me. “It would do us no good. Perhaps we should start easier, something that doesn’t pervoke banter. Favorite animal?”

I hesitated. “Cats.”

The prince let out a soft snicker. I glared at him and his face straighted up, “Cats are… lovely.”

“They are.”

“Favorite food?”

“Sweet potatoes.”

“I like them better mashed.”

I nodded. Of course he does.

“Favorite color?”

I stared into the horizen, the sun setting beneath the fine line with whisps of golden and orange. Yellow swirls and pink explosions in the distance. How could I choose?”

“Gold,” I said. “Like the sunset.”

“Me too.”

I looked at the prince, “Really?”

“Gold is a lovely color. Very reflective and gorgeous.”

“It is.” I agreed, a soft smile running across my face.

“Gold, like jewels.”

I groaned and slapped myself internally.

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

(Sequel to The Night). ———

Talla feels strange.

It’s the limbo state before you fully wake up but not necessarily asleep. Her thoughts are jumbled, fogged by sleep. Her body just coming to.

“Talla!” Jolting up, she whips her head so fast that she hears a crack. “What?”

Alina is standing over her, a horrified expression on her face. Her eyes are wide and she can barely keep her jaw locked. Which is a funny contrast to the fairy makeup that she still has on from the Halloween party last night.

Wait…what happened last night? Talla doesn’t remember the end of the night.

She takes in her surroundings for the first time and realizes they are still in JT’s house. Bringing her attention back to her friend, Alina looks different from last night. Brighter.

“What’s going on?” Talla asks.

“I don’t know. I woke up and these things were on my back!” Alina jabs her thumb over her shoulder at the radiant, shimmering wings behind her. Gone was the plastic set. Now in its place was the real deal. Talla thinks, at least. She of course has never seen real fairy wings because this is god damn reality.

“Did we fall asleep?” Talla questions intead of inquiring about the wings. “I have freaking wings and you want to talk about falling asleep?!” Alina yells, throwing her hands up in the air.

Talla glances around the room. There’s a couple people around them, asleep. Or at least she hopes they’re asleep. “I don’t remember falling asleep. I would have never slept here of all places.”

A football player’s house is actually her nightmare. She would have rather died than lay on his floor.

“I don’t know. I think I remember the lights going out. And then nothing,” Alina recalls, her wings flapping slowly as she’s thinking.

Someone zooms by them, seemingly at super human speed, interrupting both their thinking. As if by instinct, Talla uses the rope slung over her shoulder and lassos the person, catching them in the circle.

The person falls onto their butt with a groan. Talla thinks it’s a guy from her homeroom. He was dressed as The Flash.

“How’d you do that?” Alina questions, her eyebrows way up, almost to her hairline.

The rope is much heavier than before in Talla’s hands, more tightly braided.

“I have no idea.” She has absolutely no hand eye coordination. Something really weird is going on.

“Thanks for stopping me. I had no idea how to stop,” the guy in her lasso says.

“You’re welcome?”

A girl, just getting up, begins to stand up near the window, stretching her limbs. She screeches and ducks back to the ground, grabbing her arm as if it was hurt.

“You ok?”

The girl takes her hand off her arm and a big red spot is visible on her deathly pale skin. Like a burn.

“It hurts,” she has a slight lisp from her vampire teeth. That she still has in. Huh. That’s strange. She must realize that too because when she tries to tug them out, they don’t budge.

“What’s going on?”

Talla stares at Alina’s obviously real wings, sparkling in the sunlight. Her head swivels to the guy in her lasso that she somehow caught even when he was going way faster than a normal human. Then she eyes the girl still attempting to get the sharp teeth out of her mouth. She can only come to one conclusion.

“We became what we were dressed as.”

“Go,Go,Go!” The crowd yells. “You got this! Five more seconds!” The bull throws me around a few more spins. I hear the buzzer go off and get thrown back from the bull. The bull whips its head towards me and charges. I get my upper half out of the way as the bull runs over my legs and turns and steps on my side. My first time in this arena and I get trampled. “ A whopping 97.50 points out of 100 for Mr. Morgan!” The announcer says “ That score will be tough to beat!” I get up slowly as the crowd yells. I wave at them when I get up. I take a step forward and cripple. The crowd gasps. I dont realize my bandanna has shifted until it’s almost falling off. My hair falling out of my hat. I keep my head down. The bull fighters run to me and lift me up. My eyes catch on something in the crowd. A box with the royal seal. I don’t look at the people in the box. I shrug them off and limp out of the arena. I get to my room and lock the door. My chaps coated in red dirt. My bandanna that was covering my face is sprinkled with it. My shirt torn. I slowly shimmy out of my chaps and throw them on the floor. I roll my jeans up to my knees and find some blossoming bruises, but it’s chest that I’m worried about. I lay down and shut my eyes. I just showed weakness to not just a whole crowd but also royalty.

How did I get in this situation? A situation where I have to pretend to be a man just to get paid. Where I am beaten up by a thing that is better on a plate than in that arena. How has my life come to this?

I lay on a scratchy cot and hope I can walk out of here just scratched and not completely broken.

                                              —Morgan

The bull turns and runs horns forward at the man. The man turns so only his legs are in the way, but the bull tramples his legs and side.

Even the best get hurt.

He cripples as he gets up. I stand as he leaves the arena.

His leg is mangled. He needs help that won’t be given in this world without paying an arm and a leg. Then as he turns his face I see it. Dark black hair cascading down from the hat. This isn’t a man.

“Come with me.” I say to my guard “ Take me to Mr Morgan’s quarter.” He nods. If this is a woman then these injuries could be worse than I thought. Many women do this. They don’t get paid at other jobs so they pull jobs like this. We race down stairs and stairs. We finally get to the quarter. The doors locked. I knock.

No answer.

Another.

No answer.

I grab a dagger from my pocket and break the lock.

“Hello?” I say as I enter. I find a small body laying on the cot unmoving and slowly breathing. Chaps discarded along with the hat and bandanna. The bruises on her mangled leg are worse than I thought. Please let it not be to late. Please.

                                                —Alex

Pt 2?

Halloween is an enigma.

She doesn’t hate it per se.

Many great childhood memories took place during Halloween. Funny costumes. Sweet candy. Walking around her neighborhood with her mom.

But people get a bit too invested for her taste.

If it was up to Talla, she would never go to a Halloween party ever. But it isn’t up to her.

So here she is. Waiting outside her house for her best friend, the one dragging her to said party, dressed as a cowgirl.

Her shiny black hair is braided into messy pigtails with a beige cowgirl hat adorning her head. Not wanting to put too much money into this, she just wore some old jeans that still have white paint on them from when she helped her uncle paint his living room. She has a white tank top with a red flannel over it, the loose ends tied together.

Kicking her feet, the heavy boots send a rock flying into the street. Her cousin’s boots sort of fit. A bit clunky but they work for her costume. What mattered is that she didn’t have to pay for them.

A high pitched screech alerts Talla to Alina’s car rolling up. Her car always makes that when it’s slowing down. She tells her to get it repaired, but her friend refuses. Says it’s too much to get it fixed right now.

“Talla! Howdy!” Alina shouts through her open car window. Talla can see the glimmer from Alina’s sparkly makeup, looking absolutely stunning in her fairy theme.

“Is that real lasso rope, partner,” Alina continues to tease, playing into Talla’s outfit.

She chuckles, “No. It’s literally whatever my dad had in the basement.” It’s not the heavy material a lasso would be, but it looked enough to pass. It’s pretty light weight as it hung over her shoulder.

Getting into the passenger side, Talla gets a full view of Alina’s costume. Her friend was practically born to be a fairy. The shiny makeup stood out on her dark skin, somehow bringing out the light specks in her eyes. Her pastel pink could have been made out of flower petals just from the softness. The layers fell as if she were blooming.

In addition to her makeup and shimmery dress, her hair had some fairy dust in it, like stars in a pitch black night.

“You look right out of Fairytopia,” Talla compliments her. Alina beams, her pink lips stretching with how much she smiled.

Even though Alina is absolutely gorgeous inside and out, she always had low self esteem. From what Talla has seen, her parents are really strict on appearances. A lot of generational trauma there. So Talla tries to compliment Alina whenever she can.

“Well we do share a name!” Alina points out.

“So whose party is this again?” Talla questions, seeing the scenery greatly shift from nice rural houses to rich suburbia.

“JT’s Halloween Bash.” Talla turns her head as if she is glancing out the window and winces. JT is an….acquired taste. At least for Talla. Ever since they were partners in science one time like four years ago, she had a bad impression of him. He did nothing and floated through life. All his friends came off like that. Talla knows that’s not fair to assume and judge, but hey, she’s human.

And it isn’t like she says that to their faces.

“You probably won’t even see him, Talls. I know you hate the whole football team.”

It actually startles Talla with Alina’s awareness. She thought she hid it much more than she apparently has. “I don’t hate them. I don’t know them. And they don’t know me,” she counters. Because it’s true.

Well she hates JT. But not the whole football team.

“Well however you feel, I’ll be there the whole time!” She reassures Talla. But somehow that doesn’t make her feel better. Something feels off in the air tonight.

“Thanks.”

OoOoO

This is why she doesn’t like parties. Especially Halloween ones.

It’s crowded. And people are dressed weirdly and you can’t tell who is who because of masks, makeup, or head coverings.

She’s seen like ten people dressed as Spiderman. So many horror movie killers. And weirdly revealing costumes.

“There’s Priya,” Alina gushes, her eyes getting a faraway glaze over them. This happens every time Priya is in a mile radius. Talla can practically see her insides melt.

It takes her a moment to pinpoint Priya since she doesn’t have the Priya radar that Alina does. Finally, she spots her in a very floral costume. At first glance she looks like poison ivy with the dark green dress, but the bright flowers that adorn her outfit stray away from that. Maybe a nymph.

But she could be wearing a cardboard box and Alina would still fancy her.

“Go talk to her.”

“What? I can’t!” She exclaims and then clamps her hand over her mouth as if Priya would hear her through all the noise. Like seriously, a group of rowdy guys dressed as royalty are playing beer pong and whooping and shouting.

Priya would need super hearing.

“Yes you can! You have AP Bio together. Start with that,” she suggests.

Even though Alina’s crush is rom com worthy, it isn’t because she has never actually talked to her and one day began liking her. No, Alina and Priya know each other quite well. They both are at the top of the class and compete for highest rank. But in a friendly (some would say flirty) way.

“I can’t do it. She would never like me,” Alina continues, dragging her hands over her face, spreading some body glitter around by accident. The plastic wings attached to her back shaking.

“Then why is she looking over here,” Talla says. Instantly, Alina’s head whips up, thankfully not in Priya’s direction but at Talla. “She is?”

Planting her hands on her shoulders, Talla gets her to look at her in the eye. “Alina. I can’t promise Priya’s feelings, but I can say from my perspective that she’s head over heels for you too.”

“You think?” She asks, her voice small. So differently from her bubbly nature.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll be right here.”

Alina chances a glimpse at Priya who turns away because of course she had been looking their way. “You don’t mind? I’ll only be a second! This probably won’t even go well.”

As if Talla would let herself be the reason Alina doesn’t talk to her crush. “Go!” She encourages, pushing her playfully.

Her friend gives her a smile before slowly approaching Priya. Just seeing Priya’s big grin from where she is standing, she can tell that Priya feels the same.

Talla feels kind of weird just watching them, but she’s been invested in their relationship for a while now. It’s like a TV drama. She can’t look away.

“That was nice. What you did for Alina.” Talla almost spills her soda can, being so startled at someone speaking so close to her ear.

Righting herself, she turns to the source. It’s Link. One of JT’s football friends. She has a couple classes with him. He’s…fine. She doesn’t really know anything about him.

“Well she’s my best friend. She needed that push,” she replies, taking a sip of her Pepsi. Why is he talking to her? This is probably the longest conversation they’ve ever had, and they’ve been at the same school since 6th grade.

“Link,” he says, putting out his hand which has several kid rings on his fingers. It’s the first time she notices his costume. He’s a prince or something like that with a cape that could be a rug and a plastic crown.

“I know. We’ve been at the same school since middle school,” she mentions in a flat tone.

Tilting his head like a dog, he studies her. His stare makes her uneasy. She doesn’t like being the center of attention.

“Talla,” she reminds him, just so he stops.

Once he heard her name, he snaps his fingers, and comments, “Oh yeah, you’re the one always breaking the curve along with your friends.”

Talla isn’t on level with Alina or Priya, but she is a close third. Which is apparently the only thing she’s known for.

“Yep, that’s me, ruining everyone’s dreams apparently,” her sarcasm taking over. Sometimes, it just slips out. Though this time, it was on purpose.

He shrugs his shoulders in a way that Talla thinks is supposed to be in a good hearted way. “That just means your really dedicated,” he says.

She narrows her eyes at him, but he doesn’t flinch, so she thinks he’s being serious.

“Link, you can stop.” May as well be blunt. He doesn’t appear to be affected by subtlety. Some people just need to be hit in the face. With words. Not literally.

To his credit, he looks confused. The space between his eyebrows scrunches up. “Stop what?”

It’s her turn to shrug. “I don’t know. Talking to me.”

“So I can’t talk to you?” He questions. His fingers tap on the side of his solo cup, the rings making a clunk each and every time.

“Well you can, but why do you want to?” She’s curious now. Link isn’t the worst person out of the football team. That would be JT. But she wouldn’t have thought he was the talk-to-her-for-no-reason type.

She is aware that she comes off unapproachable and probably intimidating. That’s probably why people love Alina. She is so bubbly and outwardly kind. It is a wonder why Alina is her best friend since they are very opposite.

“Because I can?” He states like a question.

He’s confused and she’s confused why he’s confused.

“This is the first real conversation we’ve probably ever had.”

Scratching the back of his head, tussling his chestnut hair, he almost knocks off his crown. “We have to start somewhere.”

“Link,” she says, exuding annoyance.

Finally catching onto it (or maybe he’s just done messing with her), he holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I just thought saw what you did for Alina and I wished I had a friend like that. That’s all,” he confesses.

Friend like that. Huh. That’s not what Talla expected.

“You have a lot of friends,” she feels the need to point out. Though she knows how quantity doesn’t mean quality. He just seems all friendly with so many people. Link is one of those guys that high fives people in the hallway and knows everyone’s name. Not the kind who wishes he had something that she has.

“I have football friends. I have school friends. But outside those environments, I don’t have many. Certainly not one like you….I mean what you and Alina have,” he stumbles, tripping over his words.

“Well maybe you should surround yourself with different people if that’s what you want,” she suggests. Link isn’t certainly…different than she thought.

Talla isn’t exactly jealous of Link. Because she can’t think of anything worse than being associated with the football team. But she can’t deny that it would be nice to be seen. To have the confidence to just talk to people.

“Maybe I will,” Link replies, looking over at the other football guys that are being very dramatic at a beer pong loss.

While it isn’t in her nature to comfort someone she doesn’t really know, she feels the need to share with him like he did with her. It’s only fair. “If it makes you feel any better, Alina is probably my only friend, so I have a lot of energy to put into one friendship.”

He gives a chuckle at her attempt at a joke.

“Well a lot of people could gain from your kind of friendship.”

“Like you?” She asks.

“Maybe.”

——— (So I have a plan to expand this. My first idea for this actually isn’t in this part 😂. I spent so long introducing Talla, that it won’t fit in this!)

I sighed. More news of the charming Prince Malcolm. I looked down the rows of green fields leading up to the palace. Just a mile down the road was a village made of stone houses and cobblestone paths. Every year the fields lessened and lessened, eventually there would be nothing left. How did it happen? I don't know. A carriage rolled by, followed by an old wooden cart piled with hay. My older sisters Anna and Graceon ran outside, squealing like pigs. “Is it him?” Anna squeaked. “Nope, just another commoner.” Graceon sighed. They both wore their nicest dresses Mother had made them. A red silk gown with gold sleeves and trim for Graceon, and a pink gown with lace trim for Anna. They both looked ridiculous dressed like that out in a field. I was wearing a simple green dress with a white undershirt covered in patches, my work dress. Although completely disheveled, it was quite comfortable. “We love you sister, but change out of that hideous gown and into your blue one, it compliments your delicate skin tone,” Graecon said. Anna nodded. I glared. I was very pale and had no freckles. I never looked cute. “Mother’s calling on you, she wishes you to go to the village and retrieve some flour and wheat, we must have fresh bread when the prince comes to visit us you know!” I sighed at the thought. The prince would be visiting every house in the village, asking what people needed. As if he cared. He’s the one who lived in a _palace. _

_ _I fetched the basket from the raspberry field, (I’d been picking them all day), emptied the berries into a barrel, then ran towards the market.

The market was bustling with activity and rumors of the Prince. “I heard Prince Malcolm always smells like fresh laundry.” “Well, _I _heard he gave a homeless man his horse.” Two girls whispered to each other, also wearing their nicest dresses. “Oh, how _noble _of him,” another girl chimed in, stepping next to them. Again, ridiculous. I admired a few hand-painted vases before turning to Tommy’s stand. “Hello, how are you today Tommy?” The ten-year-old boy shook his head. “Mum’s still sick Miss.” “Give her my regards would you?” I asked, picking up the biggest piece of bread I could. It was, as usual, burnt. But I couldn’t help myself. I was the only person who bought his bread, the poor kid’s mother was sick, she’d been for two months now. I always bought the most expensive piece. “Are you sure you want to buy this Miss? It’s twenty carúe’s.” I nodded, twenty was quite a bit, but he needed it. I handed him a small bundle of cash. “Keep the rest, buy your mother something nice for her birthday.” His small face lit up, and he removed his cap. “Thank you, Miss, God bless.” I continued down the road. By twilight, I’d already gotten bread, milk, fruit, wheat, flour, and molasses for a treat. (I still loved my snobby sisters). Heading down the road, I ran into trouble. Nighttime was always dangerous for women. A drunk man was bothering a young girl. “Please, I need to go inside.” The girl begged. The man's friends joined him outside. I couldn’t just stay in plain sight. I slowly backed away and slipped into an alley. “Lost?” I heard a voice say. When I turned, I found a young man with short-cropped brown hair in a peasant’s outfit. I grabbed my loaf of bread, using it as a weapon. “What do you want?” The man stepped back and bowed. “I mean no harm, I’m simply hiding from those men,” he pointed towards the entrance. “Oh, very well then.” The man gestured to a barrel. “You’re welcome to stay in my alley until it’s safe to go out.” He smiled, and I suddenly knew what the word charming meant. “Th- thank you.” I sat down and fixed my dress beneath me. “Would you mind my asking, who is this mysterious woman?” He asked. I fixed my posture. “Katherine, and you?” The man smirked. “I didn’t say I’d tell you.” I felt like smacking him, but something contained me. It had gotten quiet, and the light inside the inn had turned off. “It seems the men have gone, I will return home now. Thank you.” I stood up, my brown hair falling behind my back, the tiny braid around my head falling back into place. “Let me walk you home.” I turned to the man. “I’ll manage on my own thank you-” “I insist,” he said again, and this time, I knew what the answer would be. I sighed. “Very well.” The only thing I liked about this guy was the arm gesture. In our kingdom, it was customary for when a man and a woman were walking together, the woman would put her arm in his. The unnamed man didn't ask me or just simply hold out his arm as an indication that I should do so. “So, Katherine, may I call you Kate?” “No,” I answered quickly. “So, Kate, why do you live out here, not in the kingdom?” I shrugged, trying to ignore the fact he had just called me Kate. I liked that about him for some reason. “My parents decided to live here, not me. I would preferably live in the castle.” The man let out a soft laugh. I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just… the palace isn’t all that special, imagine being cooped up in that all day, with nothing else to do. Torture. That’s probably why the prince left.” I stopped walking. “Where are you from, I’ve never seen you around these parts.” For only a moment I noticed a flash of fear in the man’s eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone. “I live in Xenia, many days' walk from here.” We arrived at the gate where the path to my house began. The sun had gone down, and the lights inside the house were warm and welcoming. I almost felt guilty leaving this stranger out here. “Thank you for the escort, I’ll be fine from here.” “I believe you will.” The unnamed man flashed me another smile, bowed, pulled his cap back on his head, and walked down the path to the village.

For once, I wasn’t a young lady. I was a woman. I smiled and walked back up the path. I guess we were so different, we were almost the same.

He saw her coming around the bend. She sat on her horse, hair pulled back into a braid that sat on her right shoulder. Her horse was muddy; the horse he rode was shining in his brilliance. Cowgirls weren’t common around his father’s lands. The prince sighed. Why does a stranger have to be here now …. __ __ She saw him up ahead, on his slim, shining horse. She knew he must be the prince of the nearby palace. The stone bricks loomed in the distance, casting dark shadows on the both of them as they rounded a bend together and drew closer. He still wore a crown on his head. Her heart pounded in her chest. _Why can’t I catch a break today … _

Earlier, the prince’s fight with his father resulted in him grabbing a crystal plate and throwing it at the wall. Only, it didn’t hit the wall; the plate hit his father in the head. The man fell, motionless, on the ground, and the prince didn’t wait to see if he was breathing before he fled.

The cowgirl spent the previous night with a man she met on the street. Only, when he tried to push himself onto her in his tent, she drew her blade and defended herself. What else was she meant to do? She made sure the man was dead before she continued riding on.

As they passed, they nodded to eachother, feeling a common spark and not knowing why.

I reallllyyy like the name Maisie, and I know it’s already used by certain writers and such in settings similar to this story’s. I really like the name, however, and this is not the same character as other Maisie’s.

I glanced at the pastures, watching the horses wander about.

It seemed as if they were at a calm, in the middle of peace.

I wished with all my heart that I could be too, but the roaring of my heartbeat proved wishing’s worth nothing of mine.

In my pocket rested a little note, the calligraphic words on it making my heart nearly slow enough to a stop.

Dear Dunes family, __ __ _I’m proud to acknowledge that your ranch has been selected for the Royal Oak Trail Club’s weekly event center. Our crown prince, Prince Adrian, will be arriving tomorrow afternoon as to see that all requirements are fulfilled. _ __ Sincerely, The Royal Oak Trail committee

I couldn’t handle it.

Royals? At our small-town ranch?

I didn’t want to believe it, as I’ve never been quite proper enough for royalty.

The next afternoon, my beliefs had been proved wrong.

I slumped against a tree in our apple orchard as my father was picking the fruit.

“Mais, the crown prince shall be here soon,” he announced, dropping a handful of apples into his basket, “make yourself of use, darling.”

As my father had expected, I stood up, buckling to the parental pressure.

“As you wish,” I murmured, smoothing out my dirt-stained white skirt that fell to my ankles. “I’ll check on the pie.”

“Okay, Maisie,” my father shouted back as I retreated to the fencing of our orchard.

To my dismay, I seemed to trip as I closed the gate of the broken fence.

But I had yet to fall, because I was captured in the arms of someone quite larger than me.

“A clumsy servant, are you?”

The words sounded in my ears so smoothly, I thought I had imagined them.

Yet I proceeded to process the meaning behind them.

I pushed the muscular wall of a human away from me as I regained my footing.

“Excuse you?”

As I attempted to stare the stranger down, I soon discovered it was a wealthier man, who could be not much older than me. A year, maximum.

I squinted at his black and gold jacket, just to realize who the man was as I came to terms with the crown upon his head.

The Crown Prince.

“I—”

Almost immediately following my final conclusion, I had started to drop into a curtsy.

“No need for the formalities,” the Prince commented, his eyes following me all the way up and down. “I do, however, require an answer.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” I replied, my eyes stuck on his crown.

Royalty.

On our ranch.

He nodded curtly, opening his mouth several times before finally speaking. “Not to be rude, my lady, but why are you not in more… proper wear if you are not a servant?”

My lady?

I had to bite my tongue from the remark.

Civil, Maisie. Civil.

“We do not have servants here. My father and I work the whole ranch, Your Highness,” I had answered, my eyes darting to my dirty blouse and skirt. “I usually help with crops, but today I must go check on the pastries.”

I turned to leave, but something caught my eye.

The prince smiled, to which caused me to finally look up.

What beautiful green eyes…

I shook my head. Don’t do that, Maisie. He’s a prince.

He adjusted his crown, which laid nestled upon his neat brown hair.

As he started to speak, he kept his gaze glued to mine.

“Before we do that, my lady, must we know the name of the other?”

“I know who you are, Your Highness. Crown Prince Adrian.”

It was bold to say, so I added a curtsy alongside it.

The prince stifled a laugh at my curtsy.

“Such a bold statement, my lady.”

He stepped closer, to which would have been seen as improper for a man and woman not yet to have said their vows.

“But I want to know who the beautiful maiden in front of me is.”

Shivers rushed down my spine, as a blush fled onto my face.

“Maisie,” I whispered, angling my face away from him as his gaze became so intense the shivers almost became unbearable.

In my peripheral, I saw Prince Adrian mouth the syllables.

I knew I wasn’t going to make it, but I didn’t think it would be as bad as it now will be.

“Are you going to untie me?” “No,” she said, rummaging through a saddle pack, seeming to be looking for something. The firelight glinted off her blue eyes. Nothing else could be seen in the dark. “You do realize that I’m a prince, I control an entire country.” She paused and then resumed looking for something. “I control a group who all control 1200 pound animals that could easily kill any of us.” “Mines still better,” the prince muttered. The cowgirl paused, finally pulling something out of her bag. Her bay mare snorted as she stared at the prince. The prince stretched over to try to see what was in the cowgirl’s hand. The blood drained from his face. A knife. The cowgirl stalked closer. The prince held his breath and closed his eyes. But his end never came. Instead the ropes around him crumpled to the ground. She sighed. “I hate to say this, like really hate to say it, but we have more in common than I would care to admit. So I can either tie you up again or we can make a deal.

I teach her how to speak her mind

And when to take some charge

I tell her to shoot for the moon

And lasso in the stars

She giggles when I ride my horse

And yell out ‘atta girl’

She wears her cowgirl boots indoors

Whose soles squeak when she twirls

We meet in imaginary castles

And I show her foreign lands

I remind we can all slay dragons

When we have love in hand

So that when the time comes

She can navigate prince from a foe

After all these foreign lands

Are starting to get close

Its our job to guide her

Through worlds of ink drawn skies

So that someday she can greet the world

And read between the lines

So that someday she’ll write a story

With actions neither yours nor mine

The prince came to the dude ranch in order to experience a big horizon while reimagining the West. He grew up with horses, and he loved adventuring with them.

“Keep your hands low, and let the horses’s neck stretch out. This isn’t like English riding, but we’ll let you use both hands if you don’t know how to neck rein.” Annalee, who worked for the ranch, wrapped her hands around his smooth gloved hands and moved them where she wanted. When she looked up, she found the prince staring at her. She forgot to removed her hands. His were big and warm.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said, his deep brown almond-shaped eyes staring into her blue ones. “Like the sky.”

“Thank you, sir.” Annalee smiled at him, causing her dimples to show. She squeezed his hand as she let it go. “You have good hands, like a man who knows his way around horses.” There, she thought she outdid him with her compliment.

“Or women,” he suggested.

She hesitated for a moment, then she conceded: “or women.” She went over to her own horse, a beautiful black and white paint, and swung up into the saddle. “That’s what I’d expect from someone with your title.”

“I expect you know how to rope a man.” The prince brought his horse over closer to hers, thigh to thigh. He looked elegant in the saddle, his posture perfect.

“I’m not part of the package,” she warned him. When she saw his generous smile freeze and his face go blank, she couldn’t help but say, “ I know how to rope a cow, but a man would have to give his consent.”

He laughed, surprised. “Done—on the condition that you let me tie you up, too.”

“Do you know how to use a lasso?” She said in a tone that pretended nothing was going on behind his words.

“You’ll have to teach me. Now I have a great incentive to learn.”

“Come on. Let’s ride,” she said, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t want to be part of his entertainment, but she was very attracted to him.

As they headed west, the horizon was in the far distance. Prairie spread around them for as far as the eye could see. “We’ll catch up with the herd in two hours. Then, I’ll show you how to drive them.”

“Why do you do this?” He asked, though he thought he could see the answer for himself. He wanted her to talk to him.

“I love horses and the big sky. As long as I can aim for that horizon and ride, I feel free.”

“That’s what I feel like the West really is: a dream of freedom.” The prince wanted to imagine a civilization for a new age… to express in his political circles.

Annalee, the cowgirl, just wanted to live it. If she wasn’t careful, part of that dream would be getting swept off her feet by a dashing prince. She wasn’t one for casual pickups, and she knew she wouldn’t fit in his world.

They rode together until the sunset. After they put the horses up, they had a campfire. The prince’s bodyguard and entourage all gathered around the fire. When another man started flirting with Annalee, the prince cut him off by grabbing her hand and pulling her over next to him. “I know we’re from different worlds. All I ask, is that while I’m here with you, we would prefer each other and stick together. Let’s have a magic adventure.” He whispered in her ear, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Is that all you’re really after?” She didn’t know what she’d say to his answer.

“No. It’s all I’m asking.” He chuckled to himself.

She still didn’t know if he’d try for more, but she did know that she “preferred” him, and she wasn’t in the mood to pretend otherwise.

“Okay” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. “You’re my favorite prince.”

He gave her a squeeze, “and you’re my favorite cowgirl.”

She laughed. “We’ll always have that.”

He turned serious. “I have a feeling we’ll always have something special.” __ __ They spent the week he paid for the dude ranch riding into the sunset and getting up with the sunrise, feeling the greatness in simple food and shared experiences. The horses were wonderful to ride, and the company was vigorous and delightful. Before he left, he gave Annalee his personal number, and he had his assistant drive into town and buy her two dozen yellow roses. “Call me sometime.” He entreated as he kissed her on the lips. Then, he left.

She stood there for some time staring after his car. Then, she pocketed his card, wondering what they’d have to talk about outside of the ranch. We’ll talk about how the west was won, I guess. Shrugging, but with glazed eyes, she turned back toward where her horse waited.