Chapter One: The Count's Daughter

Once upon a time, in a cottage in the middle of the woods, a baby girl was born to a count and his wife. The couple had been out riding when the countess fell off her horse. They rushed into the little house, the only sign of civilization for miles around, in an effort to save both lives. The baby was delivered safely, but her mother did not survive. The count was so grief-stricken he could not bear to see the child who had been the cause of his beloved wife's death. He forced her upon the owners of the cottage, an older couple with no children, who raised the child as their own. And that is how my name came to be Cécile Adélaïde Pierpont instead of Cécile Adélaïde Levesque, as it ought to have been.

The Pierponts were not wealthy, but they were kind and loving. Georges, whom I still call Papa, even though I now know better, was a woodcutter, and his wife Virginie kept house, prepared food, and looked after me. I had no other little girls to play with, as we lived in the middle of the forest, so my friends were the frogs, the birds, Papa's dog-eared, tatty books and most of all, my chestnut-colored horse Félix, whom I was barely old enough to ride without Papa but who was mine all the same.

When I was nearing eight, Papa and Maman decided that it could not be healthy for a child to be so secluded, and we moved to the city. Papa got a job in the royal palace, as a butler, and Maman was quickly hired as a cook there as well. We tearfully sold Félix, packed up our few possessions, and moved into the servants' quarters of the palace.

The change was drastic. I missed the woods and hated the bustle of town. Everything was too noisy and smelly. The other servants' children laughed at me for my wild nature and I had even fewer friends than before. I was constantly unhappy and cried myself to sleep for weeks, longing for the cottage. One day when we had been at the palace about two weeks, I ran away to the gardens and sat there reading for hours, pretending I was home again in my forest.

"What are you doing?" a boy said.

I jumped. "You frightened me," I replied, standing up quickly. The boy before me was about my age, and had dirty blond hair and carried a hoe.

"Sorry," he said. He examined me for a moment. I dusted off my dress, knowing I must look to him like a wild creature. "I'm Alain, who are you?"

"Cécile," I replied.

"Oh. All right. Did you know you've got grass in your hair?"

"Yes," I said stubbornly, as I blushingly plucked out a piece from my straight, mouse-brown hair.

He turned around and left.

Alain and his older sister, Sophie, became my friends. Alain was a very straightforward person, as our first meeting betrayed. Sophie was a bossy girl of nine-and-three-quarters who had all the answers. She was probably friends with an outcast like me because no one else would stand her. And Alain followed wherever his sister led. Sophie worked in the kitchen and when Maman discovered we were friends, she insisted I work in the kitchen as well.

At home, I hadn't minded cooking. There had been only three mouths to feed; vegetables, bread, and a little meat had held us just fine. But at the palace there was much to learn. I had to learn to make desserts and fine tea and carry food without spilling it. It was tedious, boring work, and I hated being stuck in the hot kitchen when the weather was lovely. And even worse than being scolded for daydreaming was listening to Sophie drone on and on about the queen's gowns or the extensive royal silver collection.

To my surprise, we saw little of the royal family themselves--the king, the queen, and their only son--though we worked in their home. The queen was often confined to her room due to her poor health, and I saw King Henri only when he was coming or going in his carriage. Once in a while, however, the prince made his presence quite known. He was two or three years older than I was, and had a terrible temper because he had been spoiled his whole life. When having one of his tantrums he could be heard screaming from anywhere in the palace, and probably outside as well.

"You'd think the brat was being forced to live in this horrible place," the maids would say sarcastically, taking a silver tray out the swinging kitchen door.

"At nine years old, it's past time they started telling him to act like a man instead of a baby," his tutors would grumble as they left the palace, never to return again.

I remember the very first time I saw him, only a few weeks after we'd come to live at the palace.

"Who are you?" he said gruffly from the staircase. "I haven't seen you around here before."

I turned around. "Me? I'm Cécile." I surveyed him. He was an ugly boy, with dark hair, a face pinched from years of frowning, and sallow skin, though he was dressed in the finest clothes I'd seen. "Who are you?"

"How dare you?" he demanded. "You don't know that I am Prince Étienne?"

"I beg your pardon, your highness," I said quietly with a curtsy. "I didn't know."

"Well, now you do know," he said in a commanding tone, turning around and stomping up the stairs.

"Please excuse me, your highness," I said, and left the room to find my friends.

When I asked her about him, Sophie explained, "He's always been that way. He's just a very unpleasant boy, and there's nothing his parents or any of his nurses or governesses or tutors have ever been able to do about it. They've even brought in doctors and apothecaries and witches. But nothing helps."

"They have not brought in witches," Alain said.

"Have too, I've seen them," Sophie snapped in her know-it-all way.

"You're lying," Alain said, "there's not even such thing as a witch!"

"There is too!"

"I think," I interrupted, "that he's just lonely."

The pair stared at me for a second, Alain looking unconvinced and Sophie looking like she was thinking, "Mon dieu, Cécile, you are without doubt the most idiotic person ever to walk the earth."

"Maybe he needs a friend?" I ventured.

"Maybe," Sophie replied with a smirk, "but it won't be me."

Alain shrugged. "I don't think I would get lonely with such a fine horse as his," he said.

I sighed inwardly. Alain was kind, and it was certainly nice to have a friend, but he was so…simple. He was a year older than I was, but to me it seemed as though he acted a year younger, or more. He was content to spend his days in the gardens, helping his father, and playing with Sophie, not questioning or wondering, while I was constantly bored by the monotonous life at the palace. For awhile my books and my thoughts were my only escape. I missed home, the forest, Félix. Perhaps Félix the most. After Maman let me go from the kitchens one day I snuck over to the royal stables.

The stables were magnificent. Beautiful horses of every breed and color filled aisles of stalls. They all had wonderful names, like Auberon and Atalante and Ludovic and ones I didn't even know how to pronounce.

"Well, hello there," a huge man said, coming up next to me. "How do you like the horses?"

I must have looked frightened, because he smiled in an amused way. "They're beautiful, sir," I said quickly, craning my neck to look up at him. He was the tallest man I had ever seen.

He reached his hand in Ludovic's stall and patted him. "They are," he agreed. "Are you a horse-lover, miss?"

"Yes, I think they're some of the best things in the world," I replied shyly.

"Glad to know you then, little one. The name's Germain," he said, offering me a huge calloused hand. "I train the horses here. And I'm the farrier as well."

I took it, biting my lip. "I'm Cécile."

"Cécile, you say? Do you know that you share your name with my little sister?"

"Really, sir?" I said, still slightly scared of him. Somehow I could not imagine such an enormous man having a little sister.

"Yes," he smiled. "Tell me, Cécile, have you ridden a horse before?"

"Oh, yes," I replied. "I used to have one. His name was Félix. But we had to sell him when we moved here."

"I am sorry," Germain said, looking sincere. "The loss of any horse is a terrible thing indeed."

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat at the thought of my beloved horse.

Germain led Ludovic into the aisle and brought his tools.

"May I watch you?" I asked him tentatively.

"Certainly," he replied in a smiling voice. "Ludovic threw a shoe this morning, and I have to replace it." Ludovic snorted as if to verify this fact. "Would you mind distracting him so that I can put the new one on more easily?"

"Oh, I'd love to," I said, stroking his shiny copper coat. I had missed horses terribly. Ludovic nudged me playfully with his nose and I smiled. Horses had a way of making me feel better, no matter what. "Quel ange! You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you, Ludovic?"

Germain gave a quiet laugh. "You've discovered his secret."