One such servant was a young man named Jonothon Evan Starsmore. His family had once been even wealthier and greater than the Edgartons. Jonothon had been strictly educated in dance, music, singing, social graces, horseback riding, swordplay, reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was thought he would be the most well-respected, most powerful businessman in Engelande. But when the lad was but the tender age of thirteen, the family had been struck down by bankruptcy and illness, and Jonothon was the only one left. Since there was nothing left to inherit and no family to fall back on, he was forced to shed his pride and become a common worker. Now, he was in the service of the Edgartons until he was twenty-two, and he had four years to go, seeing as he was only eighteen.

As a servant, Jonothon (or "Jono"; that was his pet name for some) had the literally crappiest job of all: he cleaned the bathrooms, or "chambers" as the euphemism called them. Alas, this tagged him as a target by the other servants; they nicknamed him "Chamber", a painful reminder of his now-lowly status. And not to mention the other servants razzed him constantly about his family's ruin. Plus, they teased Jonothon about the way his flippant, sometimes cynical personality often got him into trouble. And to top it off, the servants never let Jono forget his habit of turning to the female servants "for company", or his music, and never let up about his short-lived, clandestine fling with the Edgartons' only daughter, Gayle.

Sadly, Chamber had a very short fuse and often got into terrible brawls over the insults sent his way, which earned him severe whippings from the head of the family, Edward Edgarton, or Gayle's older brother Harold. Poor Jono's back, thighs, chest, and arms were a horrid map of scars, and his face was marred as well. However, it did not diminish his rather handsome looks, but he didn't know that. Now Jonothon wore a scarf over the lower part of his face, where the scarring was the worst, in an attempt to hide his ugliness.

All this added together made Jonothon very depressed. But every day, something made him hold his head up and keep going, earning money with the hope he could one day buy his freedom and attempt to rebuild the Starsmore legacy.... and maybe, just maybe, find a chance for a lessening of his chronic loneliness.

As luck would have it, his chances came sooner than anyone ever expected to.

One day, a messenger on a horse cantered up to the gate, handed a parchment to a servant, and raced away. The curious servant took a look at the folded paper: It bore the Royal Coat of Arms on the thick wax seal. It had to have been either very important or very formal.

The servant charged to the Dining Hall, where the family was having dinner. When he finally got there, dinner was halfway through the main course, the most chaotic time of the meal. But he managed to get Edward Edgarton's attention and show him the parchment. Edward instantly opened the message, read it closely, and let out such a shout that all activity stopped.

"Sir?" A little girl-servant inquired hesitantly.

"We, the Edgartons, are formally invited to a month-long Royal Ball of Choosing being held two weeks from now for King Sean Aaron Cassidy the Twelve's and Queen Moira Amelia Trinity Cassidy's daughter, Princess Paige Lynette Maria Cassidy!" Edward exulted. "This invitation explains: Princess Paige is old enough to choose a future spouse and ensure the future of the Royal line. Son, you could be a candidate to be Princess Paige's husband!"

"I could?" Harold asked, shocked.

"Of course!" Edward exclaimed. "It says here that all high-class sons ages eighteen through twenty-two are to be brought to the Cathedral and aquatinted with the Princess. If you make a good impression, you have a chance to stay, have her get to know you, and, if all goes well, marry her!"

Harold looked intrigued. He had heard the Princess was intelligent, spirited, open-minded, monogamous, and, above all, gorgeous. Maybe he had a chance.

In the shadows of the Hall, Jonothon rejoiced as he stealthily slunk away. (He wasn't supposed to be in the Hall, but he was never caught and it was a great way to filch a few good eats.) He felt, to the depths of his soul, that this was the right thing to do. Even if he didn't have an invitation in his hands, he could go to the Ball. He was, after all, still a Starsmore! His family had been older, richer, and prouder than the Edgartons, thought not nearly as snobbish. He was high-class!

Jonothon smiled broadly and whistled a jaunty -but muffled- tune as he went back to his quarters to dig out the small bundle of good clothing he still possessed.

Back in the Hall, Harold was suddenly struck by a disturbing thought as the chaos resumed. "Father," he said, "should Starsmore ever hear of this, he will jump at the chance to go to this Ball. He is, as much as I hate to admit it, from a high-class family. But imagine the ruin he would bring us!"

"What do you mean, Harold?" Edward inquired, taking a sip of wine.

"Father, he is our servant. We have treated him in a manner the Royals might not approve of," Harold insisted. "I have heard from my personal manservant Vincente that Starsmore is sly with words and a good actor. He could withhold the whole truth about what made us treat him so badly and still have us punished!"

Edward did a spit-take. "You're right!" he exclaimed in horror. He sat back, thought about this long and deeply. "We shall just have to prevent his going when it is time for the Ball."

"How, Father?" Harold inquired curiously.

"I'm certain the rest of our servants will be glad to do something to earn a little extra gold," Harold answered evasively, and resumed dining.

Jono crept into the room he shared with two child-servants, Artie and Leon. Moving silently so as not to wake them, Jonothon reached under his straw pallet and gently pulled out the linen-wrapped package. Then he moved into a patch of moonlight, sat cross-legged on the floor, settled the package on his lap, and unwrapped it. Ever-so-carefully Jono lifted out the clothes and examined them: amazingly, the outfit was still in superb condition.

There were the black velveteen tunic and trousers embroidered with the reddish-gold threads (that matched his glossy auburn hair) and intricate patterns with brightly-polished emeralds (that matched his eye color exactly) at the cuffs and collar. There was a pair of emerald-adorned, heeled, black suede boots that came over his knees; a furry black money pouch, a well-tooled black belt studded with more well-polished emeralds, and the rather dashing, voluminous black fur cape decorated with more red-gold threads and patterns, and trimmed with more emeralds.

The clothing had once belonged to his father, and Jonothon had saved it for a reason: it reminded him of his sire. Thoughtfully, Jono shed his dirty gray pants and shirt and donned the ornate clothes. They were a bit big for his sleek, lean-muscled frame, but perhaps he could sweet-talk one of the tailor-girls into making a few alterations for him. Jonothon grinned in anticipation and placed the clothes away again, put on the gray outfit and climbed onto his pallet, drawing up the thin cotton blanket and drifting off to dreams that promised more happiness than he ever thought possible.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks passed and the Edgarton household was reduced to pandemonium. The beauticians were frantic to make the Edgartons look their best and the tailors were hard-pressed to make attractive outfits for Edward, Harold, and Gayle. But it all worked out down to the minute, and everything was perfect in time for the first night of the Ball.

At exactly five-thirty p.m., the Edgartons were settling themselves into their fancy carriage. Edward leaned out the window and consulted his own manservant. "Marius, you remember what needs to be done?" He inquired in a low voice.

Marius nodded. "Do not worry about a thing, monseur," he replied quietly.

"I never do," Edward said airily, withdrawing from the window and closing it as the coach-and-eight started up and rattled down the road.

Inside the servant's quarters, a clean and well-groomed Jonothon clipped on his cape and twirled around in front of a sliver of mirror, admiring himself. The tailor-girl Amanda had made the alterations with skill and precision, and the clothes fit Jono well. He was quite the heartbreaker now, in his opinion. Not even his scars could mar his good mood. If only you could see me, Father, he thought wistfully. I think you would be proud. Of course, he added, Mother would be pleased if I remember how to act as a "proper aristocrat" at the Ball. Don't worry; I remember, Mother.

"Why is Jono acting so funny?" Leon wanted to know as he and Artie watched from the pallet they shared.

Jonothon laughed. "I'm preparing to escape this place and be happy," he explained, turning away from the mirror and kneeling in front of them.

"Jono is going to the Ball?" Leon asked eagerly, eyes as large as saucers in his surprise. Artie copied the look. (He was mute and had to rely on facial expressions and hand gestures to get his thoughts across.)

Jono nodded. "And hopefully I'll find a way to become a real aristocrat," he said.

"Like Jono is 'sposed to be," Leon finished.

Jonothon smiled. "That's right."

"Jono? If you become real arist'crat, will you find way to take Artie and Leon with you?" Leon questioned quietly, half-pleading. Artie gave Jono the cutely begging "puppy dog " look.

Jono caved. He could never resist these two, and they did deserve a better life than the arduous one of child-servants. "I swear it," he answered, softly but firmly gripping their shoulders in reassurance.

The children looked greatly relieved and they hugged him tightly, Leon giving the "thank you" for both of them. Then they pulled back and beamed up at him. "Go get 'em, Jono!" Leon cheered, and Artie clapped his hands. "Tell Leon and Artie everything when you get back," Leon finished.

"Thank you, and I will," Jono promised, releasing their shoulders, standing up, and striding confidently out the door and down the hall. Now all he had to do was filch his favorite horse for the night and-

"Well, look here. Little Toilet-boy thinks he's a real high-class monsieur, putting on airs and pretending he's better than the rest of us," a taunting voice said from the shadows. Jonothon jumped and whirled around as more servant men and boys came out of hiding, all with menacing looks on their faces. Their leader, the one whose cruelty to Jono was greatest, sauntered to a spot in front of Jono.

"What do you want, Marius?" Jonothon inquired coldly of the leader, standing straighter as he felt the first twinges of anger.

Marius sneered and ignored that. "Those are magnificent clothes, Chamber," he went on, gesturing to Jono's attire. "Who did you steal them from?"

"No one. They are mine by right," Jonothon replied, wondering why he didn't just introduce his fists to Marius' face and leave. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"To follow my orders," Marius answered simply.

"And what would those be? To make a total plonker of yourself in front of me?" Jono retorted, knowing Marius hated the very thought of being a fool; even worse to be a fool in front of Jonothon.

Marius turned a bright red and spluttered incoherently as the other servants snickered loudly. Finally he snapped, "Oh, do shut up and pummel the flippant snob!"

"$@-$_)*^&%)*($-@($#?%u^)!" Jonothon cursed as every single servant jumped him. He fought hard and cunningly, but there were too many. Jonothon was floored by a kick to his chest, and then fists and feet pounded him on virtually every inch of his body as greedy hands shredded his clothes, ripping away emeralds and thick fur. Jonothon went wild with rage as his father's fine outfit was destroyed, and fought even harder, yet in the end, he was hopelessly outnumbered and beaten. Jono lay dazed, bruised, and bleeding on the carpet as Marius and his cronies walked away, guffawing and bragging to each other about how much gold they would get from this job-well-done.

Jonothon huddled into a ball, shuddering from the pain and humiliation. "I'm sorry, Father," he whispered. "I tried...."

Eventually, he became aware of little hands rolling him over and helping him stand: Artie and Leon were taking him back to their room. Jono offered no resistance as they told him to hold still and bathed his wounds. Then he numbly lay down on his bed, pulled the blanket around his shoulders and curled up again; Leon and Artie knew him well enough not to stick around, so they left him alone and went to find something to do.

Jonothon felt hot tears pooling on his cheeks and didn't care. He hurt like hell, and his dreams had been dashed. He drew a shuddering breath and bid his chances goodbye.

"Come now, child. Not all is lost!" three sweet, coaxing voices chimed in chorus.

Jono bolted upright and turned around, his jaw dropping as he saw who had spoken.

Three slender, shimmering, beautiful women with pale skin and iridescent wings were standing in his room. One had wavy light brown hair that fell to the middle of her back and bright green eyes, and she was wearing a flowing dress of silver. The second had straight, shoulder-long, platinum-blonde hair and light blue eyes, and she was wearing a white gown. The third and last had straight, space-black, jaw-length hair and dark hazel eyes. She was wearing a garment of black.

"Wh-Who the hell are you?" Jonothon demanded. "How did you get in my room?"

The first one spoke. "We are the Fairy Sisters of Fortune. I am Adrienne," she said.

"I am Emma," the second added.

"And I am Cordelia." The third completed the introductions.

"We got into your room through our magic," Adrienne went on.

Jonothon shook off the last of his shock as curiosity took over. "Why are you here?" He inquired, pushing aside his blanket and standing.

"We are here to help you," Emma answered. "We have heard of your dreams and desires, and wish to grant them."

Jonothon was still a bit wary. "Why me?" he wanted to know.

Cordelia took up the explanation. "We were once close to your family, for your father and mother remembered to thank us whenever luck went their way," she said. "When they remembered us, we did not fade away, as we would have if too many did not remember us. We are in debt to them."

"That doesn't make things any clearer," Jonothon stated bluntly.

"When your life was spared the sickness that took your family, you thanked us," Emma responded. "When you received this job as an indentured servant, you thanked us. When you had Gayle for that short time, you thanked us. There were other incidences, but we need not name them all. Suffice it to say: We are indebted to you as well, and in helping you, we pay it off."

Jonothon felt a rich thrill of new hope. "Thank you," he said humbly.

Adrienne smiled and looked at her sisters. "Let us begin!" she said grandly.

The Fairies of Fortune placed the tips of their wands against each others' and pointed them at Jono. A bright, multicolored light flew from the wand tips and surrounded Jonothon. Under the glow, his aches vanished, the clothes rapidly mended and were restored to their former glory, if not greater than they had been. Jono's hair also smoothed out and arranged itself into a wavy, flattering 'do, and his eyes gleamed with an air of regality. Lastly, as the crowning touch, every single scar on his body vanished as the scarf covering his face settled snugly about his neck. Jono felt the changes and looked at himself in the mirror; a huge grin flashed over his face as he touched the smooth skin in awe.

"You like?" Cordelia asked.

"Yes!" Jonothon cried happily. "Thank you so much."

"Ah, but we're just getting warmed up!" Emma crowed, and waved her wand. A letter to Artie and Leon appeared on their pallet. "Went to Ball after all. Be home after midnight," it said in Jonothon's handwriting. With another flick of her wand, an invitation was placed in Jonothon belt alongside his bulging money pouch. With one last twitch of the magical instrument the foursome vanished and materialized in the stables. "Choose your steed," Emma commanded.

Jonothon instantly went to the stall of Fleet Windracer, the retired but still-swift and long-on-endurance racer that once belonged to Gayle. Jono was quite fond of the mare and would sometimes sneak the horse a few crunchy carrots.

Adrienne nodded in approval of his choice, and with a flip of her own wand, Fleet Windracer was out of her stall and tacked up in a rich, black, emerald-decorated leather saddle and bridle; again, it belonged to Gayle. Her black coat was well-groomed and her flowing mane and tail braided. "Mount her, Jonothon," Adrienne commanded.

Jonothon complied and swung up into the saddle, settling himself with ease. "Now, there are some things you must know before you go," Adrienne said. "First: Do not tell Princess Paige who you are, or everything about yourself this night. Do not worry: Thanks to us, you will be able to attend the Ball every night for the whole month. That is plenty of time to reveal details about yourself. For now, a mystery man will intrigue the lady."

Jono nodded in understanding.

"Second: Never stay beyond midnight, for the power of the witching hour will cancel out our magiks and reveal you for you who are," Emma told him.

"Third and fourth," Cordeila jumped in, "be canny and on your guard. I know you are a good actor; use that skill. For the extent of the ball, you are to be 'the nephew of the Duke of York': Evan of London. You will be believed. And remember what your mother taught you."

"I will," Jonothon promised, and made to go. A sudden thought stopped him. "What if someone recognizes me?" he questioned fearfully.

"No one will," Adrienne answered soothingly. "We'll make sure of that. Why do you think we made your scars vanish, and Cordelia gave you an alias? Now go! Enjoy yourself, and seize your dreams!"

"I will. Thank you for everything," Jonothon said by way of parting, and prompted Windracer into a mile-eating gallop.

The Fairy Sisters of Fortune disappeared under a spell of invisibility, eager to get to the Ball and see how the young man fared.

Princess Paige was bored out of her mind.

There was nothing interesting to do except dance, but she was tired of that already. And so far, she hadn't found anyone to her preference to hang out with, or someone her parents liked. Her friends -Princess Clarice, Princess Jubilation and Princess Monet- were having more fun than she was. They were grouped together near the long refreshment table, laughing, gossiping, and oogling all the princes.

Paige stifled a yawn and plopped down on her throne, which was sandwiched between her parents'. They gave her reproving glances; plopping was not thought to be regal. Princess Paige ignored them and stared out over the dance floor.

She envied her friends. Jubilation was too young to have a Choosing (what with her being merely fifteen); Monet had Chosen a prince by the name of Everett and was waiting until she was of proper age to marry. And Clarice had yet to have a Ball of Choosing.

Paige wished she didn't have to Choose now, but she was eighteen years old and considered mature and wise enough to Choose and make sure her family's line would go on.

But all Paige wanted was to marry for love, not because it was traditional to Choose.

Suddenly, nearly all activity halted as bellhops opened the great doors leading into the Main Hall, and a young man strode in, confidence and regal manner radiating off every inch of him. Paige sat up ramrod-straight in her throne and had to restrain herself from gaping as the handsome stranger handed his invitation to a servant and descended the marble stairs, cape flowing over the steps behind him.

Jonothon was nervous. Extremely so. He hadn't been to such a grand gala in such a long time. It was nothing like the parties he would attend when his family was alive. This seemed stiffer. Fancier. There was more room to dance in, more people, more musicians, and more refreshments. And to top it off, nearly everyone in the room was staring at him.

Jonothon mentally kicked himself. Stay calm, he told himself. You can do this. It's just a matter of bluffing a little and improvising a lot. You're good at that. Just relax and have fun.

King Sean got off his throne, gestured to his wife Moira, who followed his lead and went to greet this new arrival. Paige went after them but hung back slightly in true Princess form.

The stranger noticed their arrival and gracefully bowed once they were close. "Greetings, Your Majesties," he said in a throaty tenor as he stood upright. "It is a true honor to meet you."

King Sean inclined his head in acknowledgement of the salutations. "And who might ye be, sir?" He inquired.

"I am 'Evan, the Duke of York's nephew', from London," Evan answered with a smile.

Neither King Sean nor Queen Moira doubted his statement: The Duke of York had many nephews and nieces. "Well then, we welcome you to our Ball, and hope ye enjoy yuirself," Queen Moira said politely. "May A present our daughter, Princess Paige."

Paige stepped out from behind her parents; "Evan" was struck dumb by her beauty. She had a trim, nicely curved figure clad in a snowy-white, gold-trimmed gown; long, ripply hair the same color of sunshine cascaded down her back to her hips. She possessed intelligent, spirited, long-lashed blue eyes the exact shade of perfect sapphires, and creamy skin with rosy cheeks and lips. Jewelry of pearls and gold softly accented her loveliness.

Paige beamed sweetly and extended a hand. "A pleasure to meet you," she told him.

"Evan" got over his shock and took her slim, fine-shaped hand. "My lady, the pleasure is all mine," he declared, and dropped a gentlemanly kiss on Paige's hand.

Normal activity proceeded as Queen Moira and King Sean went back to their thrones, and Paige and "Evan" took seats on the side, striking up a conversation.

Paige and "Evan" talked about anything ranging from the countryside to politics, snacked on refreshments and danced. Paige thought "Evan" was a wonderful dancer and interesting to talk to; "Evan" thought Paige was very witty and well-learned. She was a delight to be with.

Across the room, Harold glowered at the couple. What was it this nephew of a Duke had that he didn't? He was every bit a good dancer and voluble conversationalist as the other man. Hell, he was even as good-looking, if not better! And to top it off, there was the baffling feeling of deja vu whenever he looked "Evan's" way. Harold felt as though he had seen "Evan" before, but that was impossible. Harold had never met the Duke of York's family and couldn't know if the Duke had a nephew named Evan.

Hours passed and as the clock struck eleven, "Evan" realized he was running out of time. "I must depart now, my Princess," he regretfully told Paige.

"Must you?" she queried, her eyes pleading with him, asking him not to go.

"I will return tomorrow," "Evan" replied, taking her hand for the umpteenth time that night. "That is, if I'm invited."

"Of course!" Paige said fervently. "The invitation lasts all month. Please say you will come back." She blushed a little. "I rather enjoyed your company."

"And I, yours. I was honored to spend the night with you," "Evan" responded with a smile. He bowed over her hand, kissed it again. "I bid you good night, your Majesty."

With that, he released her hand and ran lightly up the stairs, darting out the doors, and vanishing into the night.

Princess Paige went back to her throne in a happy daze, not noticing the astounded expression on every prince's and high-class boy's face.

Jonothon woke up feeling immensely stiff and sore. He hissed through clenched teeth as his pressed a hand to his battered chest and muttered curses about Marius.

Then, Jono remembered what had happened last night and grinned widely, feeling a bizzare rush of giddy happiness. Thank you, Fairies of Fortune. Thank you for everything, especially the fact no one knew who I really was, he thought fervently. All his aches seemed to fade away as he waltzed into his bathroom to clean up.

The instant he was dressed in his old gray clothes, Leon and Artie came running into the room. "Jono, Jono!" Leon cried. "Master Edgarton wants to see you in the Dining Hall!"

Jonothon sighed, but didn't let his good mood flee. "All right," he said and followed his friends into the Dining Hall.

The instant he entered the room, all activity ceased. Edward lowered his fork from his mouth and sat up straighter. "There you are, Starsmore," he greeted harshly. "Marius told me what you attempted to do last night."

"I'm certain he did, gov'nor," Jonothon answered in the humbled tone he faked when around his employers.

"I will have you know I will tolerate no such behavior from you, Starsmore," Edward went on. "Every attempt you make to leave this place will result in doubled workload, reduction of food rations, and a beating. A very severe beating at that. Am I understood?"

"Yes, gov'nor," Jonothon responded, lowering his head as if submitting to the orders. Under his scarf, he was smirking like crazy, though. As if you could stop me! was what he was thinking.

"Good. Leave now, and do what I pay you to do," Edward said with a dismissive gesture, returning to his breakfast.

Jonothon bowed and left, containing his laughter. To celebrate his fortune, he took Leon and Artie to the kitchen to wheedle some good food away from his preferred cook, LaWanda. As they munched, Jonothon told the boys about his night in elaborate detail.

That night, time repeated itself. The Fairies of Fortune arrived, hid Jonothon's scars and cleaned him up, dressed him in elegant clothes (this time a tunic, boots and leggings of forest green, with accessories of rubies and his black scarf and black fur cape) and sent him on his way with Fleet Windracer.

Princess Paige was lounging on her throne, nervously playing with the folds of her sapphire blue dress and eagerly awaiting the arrival of "Evan". Her heart leapt with joy when she saw him enter the room, and she fairly sailed across the room to enthusiastically greet him.

Harold stewed as he watched them, envying the way "Evan" could captivate the Princess with word and charm. Once, Harold had approached them as they danced and said, "May I cut in?" but "Evan" smiled loftily and replied, "Of course, though I am not certain I would enjoy dancing with you," and Paige had laughed, allowing Evan to sweep her away.

So it went for nearly a month: Each night, "Evan" would arrive at the same time and monopolize the Princess' time, and she did not care. They would often steal away from the party and walk in the gardens, or take a short ride in the Royal carriage, always talking and joking. Each night, "Evan" would allow a little more of his true self show, leaving Paige more interested than ever. Paige would talk about herself as well, making "Evan" appreciate her character and spirit even more. Their personalities were also well-matched, and they had many of the same views on the same things, such as the treatment of servants.

Each meeting was bliss. But always, "Evan" would leave at the same time, leaving Paige yearning for more.

Slowly, ever so slowly.... was it possible? Jonothon found his dreams of leaving his job behind and reclaiming his high status drifting away.

Gradually.... Could it be? Yes! Paige and Jonothon were falling in love.

And Harold felt his chances slipping farther and farther away with each night.

One night before the last evening of the month, Paige and "Evan" were dancing close on a terrace above the Ballroom. Paige had her head resting on "Evan's" shoulder; he had his arms snugly around her waist as they swayed to the music: A ballad of love.

"I hear her voice

In my mind.

I know her face

By heart.

Stars and planets are

Moving.

I'm not sure where

To start.

Tell me, tell me,

The words to define

The way I feel about

Someone so fine!

How do you talk

To an angel?

How do you hold her close

To where you are?

How do you talk

To an angel?

It's like trying to catch

A falling star."

"Evan," Paige said softly, "I have something to tell you."

"I need to announce something to you, as well," Evan answered, just as softly. "You first."

Paige lifted her head and stared into his eyes. "I love someone," she told him. "I've Chosen him to be my betrothed."

"I envy the extremely lucky man," "Evan" sighed.

Paige laughed. "You moron," she giggled affectionately. "I love you. I've Chosen you. Will you betroth to me, 'Evan'?"

"Evan" gulped. All his dreams were coming true at this moment....

"Yes," he whispered. "I will. I love you, Paige."

Paige ecstatically hugged him and tried to kiss him. "But before we make it official," "Evan" went on, distancing himself slightly, "I must make many confessions."

Paige was puzzled. "What is there to confess?" she wondered.

"I... haven't been completely honest with you," "Evan" said, a pained expression on his face. "I've been deceiving you terribly."

"Why? How?" Paige blurted, stepping away from him. "What are you talking about?"

"Evan" groaned inwardly. "I am of high class, but my family was ruined when I was thirteen," he began. "I'm not a Duke's nephew. 'Evan' isn't even my real name. I've.... I've been a servant for five years. When I heard of this Ball, I wanted to come see if I could raise myself from what I had become. Friends of mine advised me on what to do, how to act, what to say. How to lie convincingly."

"Evan's" emerald eyes met Paige's. "But then I found you. In time, I didn't care about reclaiming my place in high society. I only wanted your love." "Evan" dropped his gaze. "I understand if you despise me now and don't want to betroth to a liar."

Paige felt her heart go out to him, despite the feeling she should be angry. She stepped up to him, took his face in her hands and lifted it so they were eye to eye. "I don't hate you," she murmured truthfully. "I still love you." She wrapped her arms around him. "Come back tomorrow night; we will announce our betrothal then."

"Evan" swallowed a cheer and hugged her. Paige locked gazes with him. "But I must know your real name in order to make the betrothal valid," she stated firmly.

"Evan" drew himself up proudly. "I am Jonothon Evan Starsmore," he proclaimed.

Paige was startled. "What?!" she blurted. "I-I have heard of them! We were close friends of the family. I thought they went bankrupt and died."

"They did," Jonothon told her. "Why do you think I got a job? I had to support myself someh-"

Suddenly, before anything else happened, the grand Royal clock began to strike twelve.

Jonothon felt horror flood him as he remembered the Fortune Fairies' warning: Never stay beyond midnight. "Oh @%#_*^=+&$*-^@(&_$%+=-*$^(I)!" he shouted, tearing himself from Paige.

Jonothon bolted away from the terrace, Paige in hot pursuit. "Wait!" she commanded, grabbing his wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I really am, but I've overstayed my curfew," Jonothon gasped, wrenching free. "I'll come back tomorrow and explain everything, I swear!"

Paige made one more desperate snatch, but Jonothon effortlessly twisted away and ran as hard as he could towards the doors. Faintly he was aware of scars sluggishly lacing his flesh again, his clothes becoming the gray things he worked in. Jono ran faster, pushing himself to the limit.

The assembled guests cried out in astonishment as Jonothon blurred by and Paige charged after him, begging him to stop. Jonothon took the stairs two at a time and flung the doors open, hastening out into the night.

Fleet Windracer whinnied loudly as she cantered out of the Royal stables to meet her master; Jonothon vaulted off the stairs and landed squarely in the saddle. "Gee-yah!" he yelled, slapping the horse with the reins. Fleet took off at a greater speed than she ever had before, charging down the road and melting into the darkness as if she were but a shadow.

The last of the Fortune Sisters' spell faded as the clock finished counting off the hour, and Jonothon was just another servant with scars on his face and body. He bonelessly slumped over Fleet's neck and thanked the Sisters for helping him get away.

Back at the Cathedral, Paige slumped on the stairs, panting. "Why?" she whispered. "I don't understand. Why, Jonothon?"

Her parents came huffing up to her. "Paige.... lass, what happened? Where's 'Evan'?" King Sean asked, kneeling beside his daughter.

"He left," Paige said numbly. "He said he'd overstayed his curfew...."

"Why would that upset ye, darlin'?" Queen Moira wanted to know.

"How would you feel if the man you loved disappeared into the night with no explanation?" Paige snapped.

Sean gathered Paige into his arms. "He'll come back tomorrow night. I'm sure he will. He'll explain everything then," he told her.

Paige brightened. "Yes," she said. "He will. He returned every other time he promised he would, so why would he stand me up now?" She stood. "Come, Mother, Father," she added. "I want to discuss my betrothal with you."

Jonothon stirred on his pallet, reluctant to leave his wonderful dreams. But the sunlight permeated the room, making sleep impossible and he sighed, stretching. "Tonight," he said to himself. "Tonight, I will officially be betrothed to my sunshine, Princess Paige!"

With that thought running through his mind, Jono bathed, got dressed, and got to work. Today he had to clean Harold's bathroom (and to Harold, Jono's best job was never enough, so he had to do it over and over), but not even that could dim his high-flying mood.

Harold was irritably choosing an outfit to wear for that day when Jonothon entered the room. Jono tossed him a cheery salute, promptly forgot about him, entered the bathroom and got to work.

Harold ignored the servant, still fussing over what he was to wear. "Vincente!" he hollered. "Come here at once and give me some assistance!"

"I shall be there in a minute!" Vincente called back.

Harold had started a long string of ramblings about the shortcomings of man-servants when he heard an odd noise: Jonothon was whistling while he worked. But what tune was he whistling? It sounded too familiar, as if Harold had only heard the tune last.... night....

Rage erupted within Harold. Jonothon was whistling the love ballad from last night's Ball! But how was that possible? Jonothon had never gone to the Ball! Unless.... Unless he disobeyed orders and went anyway!

Harold barreled into his bathroom and slammed into Jonothon, knocking him sideways and straight into the giant sunken tub. Jono let out a pained, startled yelp as his head connected with the hard, slick bottom. "Uuuuhhhh," he groaned, sitting up and fuzzily wondering what he had done to warrant that pounding.

"YOU FILTHY, TWO-FACED, UNGRATEFUL, DISOBEDIENT LITTLE BASTARD!!!" Harold was roaring. "You went to the Ball, didn't you! I know you did! How else could you know that ballad?"

Jonothon roundly cursed himself for letting that slip. There was no way out of this now.

Harold leaped into the bath and shoved Jonothon's face into the bottom of the tub. Jonothon cried out as his lips were split open, his nose was broken and hot blood spewed over him.

More servants and Edward came running, demanding to know what was going on. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?!" Edward bellowed above the rest.

Harold hauled Jonothon to his feet. "This toilet-licker defied your orders and went to the Ball, for I don't know how many times!" he seethed. "He knows the ballad from last night! Show him, servant!"

Jonothon silently refused. Harold rammed him back into a wall of the tub. "SHOW HIM!"

Jonothon shakily got his wind back and complied as best he could with busted lips, knowing his head would be the next thing to get rammed if he didn't do as Harold said. Harold smirked up at his father. "See?"

Edward was enraged. "Marius! Vincente! Get Starsmore and bring him out to the whipping post!" he commanded. "He must be punished."

The whipping post was a long, thin column of iron driven deep into the soil, and equipped with thick iron manacles sunk into its sides. One could be chained there, one wrist on each side, and be immobilized, therefore allowing an irate employer to whip a servant at the employer's leisure. The whip used was a cat-o'-nine-tails, and each cord was long, covered with miniscule glass chips.

Jonothon had been placed at the post several times before, and had almost passed out from each beating he had received. This, he knew, would be the worst yet. He struggled madly, frantically trying to break free of Marius' and Vincente's grasps, but they had grips of tempered steel. Finally Jonothon side-snap-kicked Marius and made the Frenchman lose his hold, therefore allowing Jono to flip Vincente over his shoulder and make a run for it. But the rest of the servants jumped him, pummeling him until he couldn't see through the haze of red obscuring his vision.

A dazed Jonothon was stripped of his clothes and his wrists were locked firmly into the manacles, which stretched him into an uncomfortable standing position. Edward took the cat-o'-nine-tails from Marius and advanced slowly, giving Jonothon time to recover his senses. When Jonothon was clear of mind and staring over his shoulder at him, Edward spoke.

"You should not have disobeyed me."

"You should not have tried to steal Harold's chances away. I am sure that is what you had in mind."

"You should not have even thought you were worthy of the princess."

"I'm more worthy of her than your bollock of a son," Jonothon snarled.

"And you should never, ever insult my son," Edward growled. He tossed the cat-o'-nine-tails to Harold, who caught it easily. "Whip the lowlife until he screams for mercy, or until he passes out, or until he dies. I do not care," he commanded before handing him the key to the manacles and clearing out with the rest of the snickering servants.

"With pleasure," Harold hissed savagely, and began in earnest.

Thirty minutes later a tortured shriek could be heard throughout the Edgarton Mansion as Jonothon was dealt the blow that finally made him make any noise: Harold had hit him in the face with the whip. Then, Harold hit Jono in the face once more, and that strike was the one ending Jonothon's misery: He passed out and limply slumped against the post. Harold threw the whip against Jono and stalked away, peeling off his blood-spattered shirt.

Quite some time later -about four-thirty at night- Jonothon revived, feeling as though he was half-dead already. His body was close to mutilated with new cuts all over him, and he was weak from blood loss. Yet someone was washing his wounds with warm water and sluicing them with cold. "Leon? A-Artie?" he croaked, the words grating through a throat raw from shrieks and thirst.

"No," came a softly accented contralto voice. "Gayle."

"Gayle?" Jono repeated in disbelief. "W-What're you.... What're you doin' here?"

"Helping you," Gayle answered simply.

"I-If your father.... or brother.... finds out, you're.... good as.... whipped too," Jonothon whispered.

"I don't care," Gayle responded fiercely.

"You're Berkshire, gel," Jonothon stated flatly, wincing as Gayle spread antiseptic on his fresh scars.

"No, I'm not," Gayle contradicted.

Jonothon was silent for a time. "Why?" he murmured finally. "Why are you.... helping me?"

Gayle sighed. "I don't approve of the way we treat our servants. I do my best to care for them, to offset my family's inhumanity." Gayle stubbornly set her jaw and finished tending Jonothon. She looked to see if anyone was coming and then offered Jonothon a vial of water. He drank it gratefully. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring out any food, but that would have been too suspicious. Is there anything else I can do?" Gayle asked.

Jonothon thought. "Is there any way you can get the key for these shackles from Harold?" he wondered.

Gayle shook her head. "No. He's wearing on a chain around his neck."

"Then.... at the Ball tonight: Get to Princess Paige before Harold does, and tell her what's happened to me," Jonothon decided. "She'll think of something to do. I'm sure she will."

Gayle was confused. "The Princess? Why?" she inquired.

"She's my betrothed. We were going to make it official tonight," Jonothon clarified.

"How's that possible?" Gayle pressed.

"I'm the Duke of York's nephew," Jonothon said bitterly.

Gayle shook her head in amazement. "Someone up there must be very fond of you, Jonothon Starsmore," she stated flatly.

Jonothon actually smiled. "Yes. I'm very fortunate."

Gayle made Jonothon as comfortable as she could and sneaked away, heading back to her room, taking the first aid supplies with her. Determination was roiling crazily inside her; she was thinking of a plan. There is no way I will be able to get Harold away from the Princess if I was not swift enough, and I have a feeling I wouldn't be. Gayle paced, weighing out her options. Gradually, an idea took form in her mind: Then I will just have to get to her first.

Gayle quit pacing and rushed to her wardrobe, yanking out her riding habit and pulling it on. Then she went to her window, pushed it open, and crawled out onto the conveniently-placed rose trellis pressed against the wall. Carefully she picked her way down it, and once she was safely on the ground, Gayle dashed off to the stables.

A horse whinnied loudly at her arrival; Gayle started as she recognized Fleet Windracer's voice. Then she smiled; the mare would suit her needs perfectly. Quickly Gayle got the horse's black-colored tack and was shocked to see it free of dust, when it should have been filthy. Of course, Gayle thought. How else has Jonothon gotten to the Balls? He borrowed Windracer. Resourceful.

She smiled tightly and tacked up the mare, mounted and spurred her into a gallop. Fleet charged down the road; she knew the way. Gayle crouched low over Fleet's neck and urged her to go faster. Please, she prayed to whatever power might be listening, please let me get a meeting with the Princess!

Paige was humming softly as she sat at her vanity and brushed out her silky golden locks, preparing for the last Ball. Tonight was the night! Tonight was the night where everything came together, and Jonothon would officially be her betrothed. He would be required to move into the Cathedral and be schooled in Royal matters, and when they were old enough -twenty-two, to be exact- they would marry and wait to ascend the thrones. Paige couldn't think of anyone better to lead Engelande with-

Paige stifled a disgruntled sigh and set her brush down. "Come in," she called, turning to face the door.

Her lady-in-waiting, Yvette, entered. "Princess, a Lady Gayle Edgarton is here, and she requests an audience of you," she said in her soft voice.

"Tell her I'm very sorry, but I have no time to be an audience for anyone," Paige replied, turning away and picking up her brush.

"She says it's about a man named Jonothon Evan Starsmore," Yvette persisted.

Paige dropped her brush. "Then send her in now!" she ordered, feeling a wave of unexplainable worry sweep her.

Yvette bowed and departed. Minutes later a very pretty, habit-clad lady with dark brown hair and light brown eyes came into Paige's room. She shut the door behind her, faced Paige, and curtsied. "Your Majesty, I am Lady Gayle. Thank you for allowing me to meet with you," she said. "I'm afraid I have very distressing news about Jonothon."

"How do you know him?" Paige demanded.

Gayle swallowed nervously, but hid it admirably well. "He is a servant in my household," she answered. "He told me to tell you he won't be able to come to the Ball tonight."

"Why? What's happened?" Paige cried, getting to her feet and striding to a place directly in front of Gayle.

"He was punished for daring to follow a dream, Princess," Gayle responded. "My father found out he'd been meeting you on the sly, when he ordered him not to. Jonothon was beaten."

Paige's hands flew to her mouth. "No!"

"Yes," Gayle said, plunging on. "After that, Jonothon was manacled to a post and whipped until he lost consciousness. Now my brother Harold has the key to the manacles around his neck and plans on attempting to steal you away from Jonothon." Gayle drew a deep breath. "I would have tried to stop them if I could, but I didn't know until too late."

Paige was literally seeing red, she was so beyond livid. Her hands clenched into fists and shook violently as she trembled in fury. "How dare he," she snarled. "He has no right to interfere with the choice of royalty!" Paige stormed into her walk-in wardrobe and put on some fancy clothes. "We are going to my father and exposing this cruelty," she called from inside as she put on some shoes, then stepped out. "We will go to your home and free Jonothon, and then I'll see Edward and Harold Edgarton jailed for life!" Then she bit her lip and glanced at Gayle. "I mean...."

Gayle shook her head. "Don't apologize," she requested. "I don't care."

Paige took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "I will see that you are placed as head of your household. I'm sure you will make everything right."

Gayle nodded in mute thanks. Paige escorted them both out of her room and went straight to her parents' royal suite.

Sean and Moira were appalled by what they heard, and agreed to take the swiftest of action. They ordered for the Ball to be postponed for the night, for their ten finest horses to be hitched to their best carriage, and for the Royal Guard to be dispatched. Once the orders had been carried out, Gayle got back on Fleet Windracer and the Royal family climbed into their carriage, and they were off!

The miles flew by. Please be okay once I get there, Jonothon, Paige pleaded. Sisters of Fortune, I ask you to help us bring the Edgartons down!

"Did you hear that?" Cordelia asked excitedly.

"Yes! She called for our assistance," Emma responded.

"Then we will answer," Adrienne told them.

Emma hesitated. "What do we do about Jonothon?" she inquired.

"We can do nothing. The presence of the iron makes him immune to our magic," Adrienne explained.

"So we wait and see what to do?" Cordelia questioned.

Emma nodded and said, "We will wait."

"And we will see," Adrienne finished.

Marius bolted into Edward's room. "Master!" he yelled. "The Royals and some Royal Guards are at the front gate! They demand to meet with you and Harold!"

Edward nearly fell out of his reading chair. "Then by all means, man, let them in, and admit them to the Main Hall!" he shouted. "Tell them we will be there in a moment," he added hastily, racing to get dressed in something presentable. "And tell the other servants to do whatever they ask."

"Yes, Master," Marius replied, and raced away.

"Jono, Jono!" someone whispered loudly.

Jono roused from the dozed he had drifted off to. Artie was at his side, and Leon was insistently patting Jonothon on the arm, trying to get his attention. "What?" Jonothon muttered, too weary to raise his voice.

"The Royals are here, talking with Harold and Edward," Leon said. "Gayle told them what happened to you, and the Royals are asking about you!"

Jonothon was abruptly wide awake. "What? What are the Edgartons saying?" he queried anxiously.

Leon shook his head sorrowfully. "They will not tell about you. They say Gayle is lying," he reported.

Jonothon swore and slumped against the post. "It's hopeless," he moaned.

"No it isn't!" Leon returned. "Leon can give message to Princess. Tell her you are here."

"Leon, you're brilliant!" Jono exclaimed. He thought fast. "Remember this," he said, and sang a snatch of the love ballad from last night's Ball. Leon repeated it back impeccably. "Good," Jonothon praised. "Now go! Hurry!"

Leon took off as fast as he could. Jonothon leaned against the whipping post and thanked the Sisters of Fortune for giving Gayle such courage, and prayed that Paige would get the message.

Inside the Main Hall, Paige was rapidly losing patience as she argued over the whereabouts of Jonothon with Edward. She was about to give up and simply order a search of the when she froze, holding up a hand to silence everyone.

Someone -a child- was singing outside the door.

"Tell me, tell me

The words to define

The way I feel about

Someone so fine!

How do you talk

To an angel?

How do you hold her close

Do where you are?

How do you talk

To an angel?

It's like trying to catch

A falling star."

Paige felt a rich current of recognition: The ballad! No servant here could know it unless Jonothon had taught it to them. She shot a look to her parents and saw they knew it too. And Edward was getting very red in the face as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for this. Finally, he blurted, "Marius, bring that child in here! I will deal him a suitable punishment."

"Oh no ye won't!" Sean yelled, grabbing Edward's collar and shaking him hard.

Paige whirled to Harold; her hand snaked up, clutched the key about his neck and yanked, breaking the chain and eliciting a yelp from him. Paige grinned as she spun on her heel and took off. Harold and Vincente tried to go after her, but Gayle elbowed Harold as hard as she could in the gut and slugged Vincente in the nose, which effectively floored them both. "Damn, that felt good!" she cheered.

Paige hastened into the hall and saw two small boys standing there, looking very pleased with themselves. "Do you know where Jonothon is?" she questioned urgently.

"Yes!" one spoke up. "Leon knows. You have key?"

Paige showed it to him. "Come on!" Leon said, sprinting away as Artie grasped her free hand and tugged impatiently. Paige broke into a run and took off after them. The boys lead her to a courtyard; in the middle on top of a small knoll was a tall iron post with a naked young man manacled to it. Paige frantically increased her pace.

Jonothon lifted his head and saw Paige! She had come for him....

Suddenly he was afraid. She wouldn't know it was him! Paige thought he had an undamaged body with smooth skin, and now he was more hideously scarred than ever. He tried to hide his face as Paige reached him, but she inserted the key into one manacle's lock and twisted; it sprang open and a chafed wrist fell free. Paige unlocked the other one fast. Jonothon tumbled against her, unable to stand, for he had been standing all day. Paige caught him as his weight bore her down, and they collapsed onto the ground.

Jonothon felt like crying as he attempted to stand and flee, but Paige gripped his shoulders firmly, not permitting him to escape. "Jonothon?" she wondered. "Is it really you?" She took his chin in her hand and forced him to look into her eyes. He was trembling and his eyes were frightened, but as Paige gazed deep into them, she knew: This battered man was the one she loved.

"It is you!" she exclaimed. "I knew it! Oh, Jonothon!" She wrapped her arms around him. "I was so worried."

Jonothon was stunned. "How could you know?" he rasped. "I look nothing like the way I did."

"It doesn't matter what you look like. I love you anyway," Paige declared, hugging him tighter. "When I look into your eyes I see your soul and your love, and that is all that matters."

And then she kissed him. Jonothon ardently returned it, tears of joy streaming down his face. Thank you! he shouted to the Fortune Sisters.

There was a wide swirl of myriad, glittering, rainbow-shaded lights, and the Sisters appeared on the knoll behind them. With triumphant grins, they touched their wands together and sent a ball of magic towards Jonothon. It engulfed him, cleaning him, dressing him in his father's clothes and healing every single scar for good.

When Paige eventually pulled away, she almost fainted from the sight of him. "What?" Jonothon inquired. "What is it?"

"Y-You're...." Paige was at a loss for words. She pointed at him instead.

Jonothon glanced down and did a double-take. Then, a wide smile crept over his face as he touched the undamaged skin there. "Forever bless the Fairy Sisters," he proclaimed.

Leon cheered loudly and Artie clapped his hands, jumping up and down. Then Jono stood, lifting Paige to her feet. "Come," he said, lifting his head with pride. "Let us leave this place." He nodded to Artie and Leon. "You, too. I promised you a better life, didn't I?" Leon cheered again and Artie beamed as Jono looped Paige's arm through his and led them inside.

Inside the Main Hall, things were going from bad to worse as Harold and Vincente attempted to punish Gayle for hurting them, and Edward was desperately trying to get two irate Royals off his back. Servants flooded the area and made more trouble while the Royal Guard attempted to break everything up, yet there was no result but vociferous pandemonium. Just as the skirmish was about to become war, a regal, commanding voice rang over the Hall: "STOP!"

All action froze and everyone gaped at Jonothon, Paige, Leon, and Artie, who had just entered the room. Three tall fairies were standing behind them, and all the people in the little group had direly peeved expressions on their faces. Jonothon let go of Paige's arm and strode in. He halted and pointed at Harold, Marius, Vincente, and Edward. "Your Majesties, these men had me beaten and whipped too many times to count, simply because they thought I was inferior or needed punishment. I, Jonothon Evan Starsmore, demand you arrest them for extensive abuse, for they not only mistreated me," Jonothon on, pulling Leon and Artie forward, "they made the lives of these children Hell, by putting too great a workload on them and not seeing to their education."

"Tell them WHY you were whipped, Starsmore!" Edward yelled. "You were but a lowly servant who needed to be set in his place! Your status meant nothing when your family was ruined and you came to us, begging for shelter and a job!" Edward waited for a devastated look to steal over Jono's face; surely he would be ashamed at having to be a servant.

Instead, Jonothon raised his chin defiantly, eyes glittering dangerously. "I asked for the job because I knew you would never take me in out of the goodness of your heart, Edgarton," he shot back. "You don't have a heart. And how else was I to earn money enough to buy my freedom and restore my family's name?" Jonothon smiled wickedly. "I am not ashamed of what I had to be. I am and always will be a Starsmore. A member of the oldest, proudest, most high-classed family. Next to the Royal family, of course."

"If ye were whipped, lad," King Sean interrupted, "why is yuir flesh unbroken?"

Jonothon's smile became calmer. "I'm very fortunate, Your Majesty," he replied. "My friends, the Fairy Sisters of Fortune, healed my wounds after your courageous daughter freed me."

"That's right!" Cordelia declared happily.

King Sean turned steely eyes on Edward and Harold. "Guards, arrest Edward Edgarton, Harold Edgarton, and the servants Vincente and Marius for excessive mistreatment of others," he commanded.

The Royal Guard clapped handcuffs on the four and hauled them away, reading them their rights amidst their violent protests. King Sean turned to a tired but still-standing Gayle. "I'm sorry lass, but-"

"Don't be," Gayle interjected.

"Very well. Are ye the sole heir to this property?" Queen Moira inquired.

"Yes, your Highness," Gayle responded.

Sean smiled. "Then take care of it well, my Lady, with our blessing of good luck and prosperity," he said.

Gayle curtsied deeply to them. "Thank you, your Highness," she murmured, and turned to Jonothon, who was standing next to Paige and holding her hand lovingly. She sized them up and smiled. "I suppose you'll be going now, Jonothon," she stated. "I wish you happiness and long life." Gayle's smile turned coy. "Am I invited to the wedding?" she questioned.

"Of course," Paige announced.

"Hey! What about us?" Cordelia cried indignantly.

Jonothon turned a charming smile on the Fairy Sisters and said, "After all you've done for us, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Four years passed and wedding bells dynamited their gay, resounding songs over the kingdom as the entire population of Engelande was witness to the holy joining of Jonothon Evan Starsmore and Princess Paige Lynette Maria Cassidy. Honestly, there wasn't a dry eye left in the place once the touching sermon was over and the ceremony began. When the bride and groom sealed their vows with exchanges of rings and declarations of love, the minister threw his arms wide and excitedly announced them as Royal Husband and Wife. And, of course, Jono could kiss the bride.

Paige had a huge, joyous grin plastered on her face. She gazed up at Jonothon adoringly and asked one simple question: "Are you ready to live happily ever after?"

Jonothon looked deep into her eyes and eloquently nodded once as he pulled her close and their lips met in a long, ardent kiss.

And with their love to guide them and the Sisters or Fortune to watch over them, they did.