Moribus and Meglinda entered the world in the same dusky hour under the same harvest moon, two years apart, in a provincial town called Twin Oaks that straddled a lonely stretch of the Lower Buring Road. By the time Moribus had seen fourteen summers and Meglinda twelve, their love was already sending out tender shoots. Barring some extraordinary intervention, in time it would have surely flowered and borne fruit. But even in such a rustic and ordinary place as Twin Oaks, the extraordinary did occasionally come to pass.

It all began late on a summer's day with the arrival of a royal caravan. That event in itself was exceedingly rare. Royalty seldom traveled the Lower Buring Road, the way being wooded and hilly with few castles to provide a worthy reception. Occupying the caravan's principal carriage was one Lady Densa, the king's niece once removed, a woman of great prominence and a particularly dour disposition. It was also uncommon for a thunderstorm to occur so late in summer. With a well-honed sense of impending danger, the Lady Densa quickly recognized the threat posed by the inky black clouds fast rolling in from the west and set the caravan into a full trot. Her carriage rattled to a halt in front of the inn owned by Meglinda's father just as the first fat raindrops pelted in the dusty lane.

With a profusion of bows, stammers and apologies, Meglinda's father showed the Lady Densa to the Emperor's Room, the large room on the second floor reserved for well-to-do merchants. Sizing up the accommodations, the Lady Densa's upper lip curled in disgust. "I suppose this is the very best you have to offer?"

Meglinda's father bobbed up and down as if his spine were made of springs.

"Very well, it will have to do. Oh, innkeep—"

"Y-yes, your Em-eminence?"

"I shan't want to be bothered by the locals. Fromler here will see to all my needs." She motioned to a short, bald man with a smooth-skinned face. "He'll require the run of the kitchen. I assume that won't be a problem. Good." And before the innkeeper could manage another word, she disappeared inside the room.

Meglinda, meanwhile, had missed the arrival of the caravan entirely. She had sneaked away to watch the horse gentler break in a new stallion when she got caught by the storm and took shelter in his barn. When she finally arrived back at the inn, her father, knowing his daughter's inquisitive nature only too well, intercepted her at the door and bound her by the strictest of oaths to remain out of sight of their honored guest. After careful consideration, Meglinda decided to keep her promise, which was to say that she would be very careful not to be seen.

Meglinda waited until the fall of night to carry out her mission. The fury of the storm had passed, but rain still pattered on the roof to the grumble of distant thunder. She tiptoed up the stairs in her stockings, avoiding the creaky parts. Crouching on the top steps, she used a shard of mirror to make an inspection of the hallway. She hadn't expected to find it empty (servants often slept outside their master's chamber), but when she saw what awaited her outside the Emperor's Room, her spirits sank. Guards. Two of them no less. Huge, hulking men with thick arms folded over their chests like crossbars over a gate. One guard might be diverted, but two? There was nothing to do but wait and hope for an opportunity.

A few minutes later one of the guards announced that he was feeling the call of nature and lumbered off toward the staircase at the far end of the hall.

"Watch you don't make water on a grave," the second guard called after him. "It's bad luck. These people bury 'em wherever there's dirt."

"Don't worry yourself, Joras. I'll be careful I don't piss on any dead people." He placed emphasis on the word dead.

Meanwhile, Meglinda was heeding her own call of nature. Throwing caution to the wind, she burst over the top of the stairs and made a mad dash down the hall. The door next to the Emperor's Room stood slightly ajar. She darted inside just as the remaining guard was turning back around. Had she been quick and quiet enough to avoid detection? Heavy footsteps clomped in her direction. Perhaps some slight sound or brush of wind had given her away. A shadow fell across the opening. Helpless as a cornered mouse, Meglinda crouched behind the door with a hand over her mouth to muffle her heavy breathing. Several heartbeats passed before the guard shrugged and clomped back to his post. She let out a long, noiseless sigh. That was close.

Meglinda cat-crept over to the wall adjoining the Emperor's Room where she peered through an eye of wood that had partially crumbled away. Half a face, pale as a quarter moon, floated before her—the princess! A hand came into view, clutching a tiny, pronged instrument which it raised to the face's upper lip. Repeatedly, it squeezed the prongs closed and jerked them away. It took Meglinda a moment to realize what it was doing; it was plucking hairs.

Meglinda's eye was still glued to the peephole when a hand seized her by her ponytail and pulled her violently backward. In her preoccupation, she had not bothered to look around the dim room. Had she done so, she would have surely noticed the smooth-skinned man sitting quietly in a chair by the open window.

"Well-well, what have we here?" The boyish face regarded her quizzically. "A peeping tom. Or should I say, a peeping tam?"

"Let me go!" Meglinda kicked him in the shins, but without shoes, most of the harm was inflicted on her own toes.

"I do not think so." The man's voice was high and lilting. When he grinned, his teeth flashed like whitewashed pickets. "Seems you have been a naughty little girl."

A hard lump formed in Meglinda's throat. If this man were to tell her dad, she would get the whipping of her life.

"You want to get a peek at the lady, is that it? I have an idea. How about we go have a look in person." And before Meglinda could object, she was being dragged out into the hall by her hair. The guard's eyes went wide at the sight of her. Looking strangely cowed for such a big man, he bowed and shuffled aside. Meglinda's captor stepped up to the door and rapped on it with a knuckle.

"Dammit, Fromler! I said no disturbances," came an angry voice from inside. "And no, I don't want any more tea. I'm quite drowning in it already."

"Not tea, my lady." The boy-faced man grinned down at his prize. "There is someone here who requests an audience with you."

"What in Ord's—who could be?—oh, come in, damn you. I'm tired of shouting. And shut the door—quick, quick! This place is drafty as a chicken coup. I've no doubt it will be the death of me—my lands!" she exclaimed upon seeing Meglinda. "Who in the flaming hells is this?!"

Fromler bowed, pressing hard on the back of Meglinda's neck until she found herself bending over as well. "I found her next door, my lady. Spying, no doubt."

"Spying, is it?" Lady Densa rose from her chair in front of the oval mirror. She was a tall woman with a stiff spine and a long, severe face. Her eyebrows, which were so finely trimmed they looked painted on, dipped gloweringly. "Such a distasteful business, spying. Most unbecoming for little girls."

"I wasn't spy—" A sharp yank on her ponytail brought her up short. "Ow, that hurts."

"We do not speak to the Lady unless we are bidden," Fromler admonished.

"But she asked me a—ow!"

"Tuck-tuck-tuck." The Lady Densa wagged her finger. "Do watch your manners, dear. Tell me, little girl, do you have a name?"

"Meglinda! And this is my inn." She thought it a good time to remind her captors of whose property they were occupying.

"Is it now? You seem a bit young to be running a place like this."

"It's my father's, but it will be mine someday."

"So your father is the one behind this, is he? What did I tell you, Fromler. You can't trust anyone. Even the countryside is crawling with castle mice. But what to do with her?" She fixed Meglinda with an imperious glare. "My dear girl, have you any idea what we do to little mice that we catch spying?"

Meglinda thought she had a pretty good idea, actually. Drowning. Quartering. Beheading. Fortunately, she had play-acted all these scenarios dozens of times over. If only this Fromler would stop yanking her hair out by the roots! "You don't scare me."

"No?" With scissoring strides, the Lady Densa closed the distance to her. She brandished the pointy instrument bare inches from her face and gave them a menacing clack. "Not the least little bit?"

Summoning up all of her courage, Meglinda cried out, "Go ahead and try! I don't have any hair on my lips to pull out!"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Fromler, after which no one moved or breathed. The world seemed to teeter on what happened next.

The Lady Densa broke the silence first, producing a single, staccato eh sound that might have been a cough or just a stray burst of air. Then the laughter began to boil over uncontrollably, wracking her body in spasms. Clutching her side with one arm, she wrapped the other around a bedpost to steady herself. The door cracked open as the guard, unaccustomed to the sound of laughter, surmised that something must be terribly amiss. Fromler shot him a warning glance, and the door shut again.

"Lady, I..." Fromler's confidence wavered. "I will strap her myself for that."

"You'll—do—no—such—thing," the Lady Densa managed between gasps. "Oh, dear me—dear me." She struggled to catch her wind. "It's a wonder—I wasn't wearing—a corset—I think it would have—damn near killed me."

"But, my lady, this... this spy is—"

"Harmless," she said. "Perfectly harmless."

"But you yourself said—"

"I know what I said! But just look at the little darling. She wouldn't hurt a fly, now would you dear?"

"I can out-wrestle all the boys except Moribus, and he's two years older than me," Meglinda boasted. If this was some sort of trick to get her to let her guard down, she wasn't falling for it.

"Oh my, yes, I believe you, dear." A tear of mirth spilled from the Lady Densa's right eye, tracing a pearly trail down her powdered cheek. She snapped her fingers. "Kerchief, Fromler."

Releasing Meglinda's ponytail, Fromler dropped to one knee and extended a snowy-white handkerchief. The Lady Densa dabbed her eyes with it then returned it to Fromler's waiting hand.

"I should have known that a brave girl like you wouldn't give in to threats," the Lady Densa said. "But do tell me—I'm oh so curious—just why were you spying on me in the first place?"

"I wanted to see what a real princess was like," replied Meglinda, gripping her ponytail in both hands just in case Fromler got any more ideas.

"Is that so? And now that you've had a chance to see one face to face, what do you think?"

"I think you're mean." She put all of her feeling into the word.

The Lady Densa cleared her throat. "Yes, well, you do seem to have caught me on one of my bad days. At least one day out of the year I'm actually rather pleasant, wouldn't you say, Fromler?"

"My lady is always pleasant," replied Fromler.

The Lady Densa put a hand to the side of her mouth as if to impart a secret. "He's a terrible liar," she winked. "But he makes a divine mutton roast so I keep him around. At any rate, seems like I'm about due for a good day soon." She seated herself regally upon a large chair, the finest one in the inn. With her hands resting on the wide arms, her chin inclined at a proud angle, and one leg crossed primly over the other, she looked very much the picture of a princess indeed. She gestured to the plain wooden chair beside her. "Care to join me for tea?"

Meglinda glanced at the door then back to the Lady Densa.

"That's right, dear. You're free to leave if you wish. But perhaps you would like to ask a real princess some questions?"

That decided her. Meglinda walked over and sat down next to her.

"We'll be needing a fresh pot of tea, Fromler," Lady Densa said. "And not too scalding like the last one."

Dropping a quick bow, Fromler turned and strode briskly from the room.

Meglinda spent that night in the Emperor's Room, both fascinated and fascinating in turn, drifting off to sleep in the lady's own bed. In the morning, Lady Densa exchanged some private words with the innkeeper, and that afternoon, after bidding her goodbyes and weeping from the loss and the joy of it all, Meglinda left Twin Oaks for good, riding in the Lady Densa's own carriage.