Louis bowed his head and tried to stop the tears that were threatening his dark eyes. His hair was a bedraggled mess and his knees and palms were bleeding freely, through the priceless garments that clothed his skeletal body. His cheeks were flushed and dirt clung to his sorrowful face like a mask of fine brown silk, deepening his starved features with knifelike clarity.

“Louis, you’ve done nothing wrong,” the Trader said gently, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. The lean man gave a disheartened shrug. “Come morning, I’m sure no one will even remember… I’m sure that none of them will remember. Hush now, you’ll wake the whole countryside with your noise. Here, here, if you’d like, I can give you something… a potion maybe, that will make you forget tonight. You need not remember if it pains you.”

The boy looked up with a mixture of grief and horror on his face, before shaking his head and brushing his tears away with a forearm, “No. I’d never want to forget…. The feeling of all of those eyes, the feeling of… oh God, will I never escape this? What if they do it again? What if he comes back for me? What will I do? I can’t bear to see… But no, the memories are precious. I couldn’t forgive myself if I allowed myself to forget.”

The Trader sighed and gave a gruff gesture, before grabbing his elbow and tugging him to his feet, “No use dwelling on things tonight then. Let’s get you out of these torn old rags and into your own clothes.”

He blinked in confusion, before looking down at himself. “Aren’t you angry at me? I’ve failed Trader. I’ve failed you and myself and I’ve destroyed everything that you’ve done for me.”

“No.” The older man exhaled slowly. “No, you haven’t, and clothes are just clothes after all. Come on boy, before the others get back. Tomorrow. You can cry tomorrow, but for tonight, let’s get you back where you’re said to belong.”
-

Louis had never been a vengeful boy, nor a violent one, and so of course when the boys stole his mother’s last letters he had been powerless to stop them. Mutely, he swept away the usual kitchen scraps with the ancient straw broom, and ignored their cruel laughter and patronizing sentiments as they threw the stained envelopes into the oven. He did not cry, no matter how they taunted him, and soon he became poor sport and the boys wandered away to torment some other harmless creature.

Only after they had left did he fall against the door frame and break into tears. His mother’s last letters… gone. Led by Bastian probably, the boys had ransacked his palate and filched the precious bundle from its hiding place. They had known that what they did was wrong. They had known. He cursed them gently.

In the orphanage, it was the cardinal rule among the boys that personal items were to remain untouched under all circumstances. If the rule was violated, the perpetrator was to face three months of complete isolation and his meals were to be cut in half. A terrible punishment, considering the meals were hardly enough to feed the scrawny rats that crawled beneath the dated floorboards, but a punishment that would be deserved.

“But it doesn’t apply to me, now does it….? Louis the dog,” he said bitterly, pillowing his head on his shoulder. “The servant, the slave.”

He sighed and pushed himself off of the door frame. He dragged the broom to its cabinet and grabbed a little towel to wipe away the last traces of the midmorning meal. Sour apple skins and a few scraps of pork rind fell into a little wooden bucket, that the boy slowly dumped out the window and into the bushes.

Louis stared dreamily through the dusty pane for a moment, taking in the warmth of the sun and the way the light painted the crisp red leaves that lined the rain gutters of the next house over. What would it be like, he wondered, to lay up on that roof and feel the sun just soaking through my skin and into my bones? At once he knew that he was thinking foolishness, but somehow he could not help but think about how good it might feel to have that freedom. The freedom to lean back against the baking shingles without a worry, without the fear of being harassed by Bastian’s lot.

“Louis! Louis! Get in here boy!”

He winced and pulled a hand through his long rowan hair to steady himself. What now?

“Coming Headmistress!” he cried, fumbling to take off the simple gray workers frock that clothed his upper torso. He wiped at his stained white tunic and straightened himself to the best of his ability, before tossing the frock onto a little rack in the corner of the room.

“Get those bloody little feet of yours moving! I’ve not got all day!”

“Yes Headmistress, I’m coming Headmistress!” Growing more panicked, he rinsed his hands in the water bucket and hurried into the conjoining room.

“What is your bidding, Headmistress?” the boy asked, bowing his head subserviently.

The Headmistress was a rather regal looking woman of perhaps forty years of age. Her hair was curled in tight ringlets and her waist was bundled into a rather wicked looking corset beneath her crimson dress. A cameo perched at her throat and her jeweled earrings enhanced her sly, lidded green eyes. Her lips were pursed in agitation and distaste, and her long fingers rested reprovingly on an angry looking cane.

“Is this how you repay me, you horrible child?” she growled, revealing
her yellowing teeth. She motioned to the bed chambers and shook her stately head. “I feed your miserable little mouth, I clothe your dirty urchin body, and this is how you repay me? You hide that beast in my bed!”

Louis took a step back uncertainly, shaking his head and blinking in confusion, “Mistress?”

The woman moved so quickly that he hardly had time to comprehend
that she had actually struck him. He felt himself drawing back in shock and touching a hand to his feverish cheek. The Headmistress gave him a look of unadulterated loathing, “In punishment for what you’ve done, you will be sentenced to three days in isolation without food, you will be banned from visiting the marketplace, and you will not be allowed to go with the rest of the boys to the grand ball. Now get from my sight you horrid little beast!”

“But I don’t understand…!” he protested, his brows knitting.

“Bastian! Bastian, take him from me!” the Headmistress cried, her long curls spilling over her shoulders and shadowing her thin face.

From the bed chambers, the dark haired boy appeared and motioned for Louis to follow him. Louis recoiled instinctively at the sight of his enemy, but one cold look from the woman made him swallow his fear and rush passed her and into the hallway. Bastian smirked, “Come on brother, I’ll show you to your new home.”
-

“A pretty good trick, wouldn’t you say?” Bastian sneered, shrugging his lean shoulders and picking at his nails. “The boys and I found that dead cat in the alley, and you know, we just couldn’t resist it. So we hefted it home in a bag and dumped it into the Headmistress’s bed this morning.”

“And you blamed it on me?” Louis cried, his eyes growing wide as he followed after the cocky boy. His hand still lingered at his cheek.

“It was the only logical thing to do,” he said with a laugh. The dying leaves of autumn crunched beseechingly beneath their boots, and the sun filtered through the trees of the forest, mockingly warming Louis’s shoulders and hair. “You see, none of us wanted to be the blame, so I wrote up a letter see, and put it in the cat’s collar. I wrote, ‘Give me a bigger portion at meal time, or this will happen again. -Louis.’ Damn bloody good scheme too, and none the wiser!”

“How dare you do this to me!” Louis whispered angrily, his hands clenching. “How dare you! I’ve done nothing to you! If I’ve done anything at all, I’ve catered to you! I’ve done whatever you’ve asked of me! How dare you….”

“Oh calm down Louis the dog,” he grinned reproachfully. “Calm down Louis the servant, Louis the slave. If you hurt me, you’ll have hell to pay. After all, I’m not the one that put the cat in the Headmistress’s bed.”

“I could still do it! I could knock your bloody lights out and leave you out here for dead!” he threatened, raising a bony fist.

Bastian burst out laughing. “Would you now? Would you really? Well come on then, gimme a strike. Punch my lights out! Do it Louis the dog!” He turned his cheek to the boy and pointed at it, even pulled the hair from it. “Look, I’ll give you a clear shot! Come on. I dare you!”

Louis’s face darkened with rage and he reeled back as if to hit him, but when he saw the white of his exposed flesh he shuddered and drew away. Why can’t I do it? he wondered. His arms curled around his waist and he looked up into the sky as if questioning the angels themselves. Why can’t I do it?

“I knew you wouldn’t. Damn bloody coward.” Bastian sneered.
-

The place of isolation was a little wooden shack about two miles from the walls of the city. Though it was still towards the border of the surrounding forest, it pulsed with the very heart of the wood. A stream trickled nearby and fiery leaves fell here and there all about the grounds. It had caved in on itself in one spot where a mass of flowered vines had attacked the rotting wood, and its right wall was being completely devoured by moss and other vegetation.

Louis figured that he would have rather liked the spot, had it been any other time.

The last rays of sunlight were fleeing rapidly to the east, and Louis soon feared that he would have to say goodbye to the only comfort that the decaying structure had to offer. He clung helplessly to the narrow groove between the two doors and watched the last purple clouds fade into the horizon, before he let his forehead fall against the door and he let himself sigh.

He knew now why he could never fit in with the other boys. He had hated it. The fighting, the cruel pranks, the way they hooted and hollered at the young girls with their parasols and youthful figures. He hated all of it! He could not fathom why anyone would want to hurt another person, simply because they were weaker. He could not take any pleasure from terrorizing the Headmistress in any form. He liked the way that the girls looked with their hair done up and their eyes shadowed by their lacy sun shades, and he could not for the life of him, understand why anyone would want to say anything crude about them. He was different. He was the outcast. He would not, could not, ever fit in.

And this was where it had gotten him. Locked in a shack without food or water for three days. There was no way to get out either. The wood was rotten, true, but it also had the old world sturdiness that was becoming more and more obsolete as time went on. He could kick at the walls all he wanted, but they would simply not give in unless they wanted to, and there was no way to get out through the doors, because Bastian had locked him in from the outside.

There was nothing more to do than to either fall asleep and try to fight away the beginning of the hunger pangs, or to stay awake and examine the shack more thoroughly. He figured that he might as well kill two birds with one stone. Perhaps the shack had some sort of material that would work for bedding. The moss for instance would make for a good pillow, if worse came to worse. If he was going to be stuck for three nights, he might as well make himself comfortable.

The inside of the shack was cool and dark, and moisture hung in the air like a morbid perfume. He let his eyes scan the place and he picked his way carefully through the rubble of the collapsed roof. For the most part it contained only a small table and a few barrels. He snorted, absolutely nothing out of place. A few worn candle sticks lay here and there, and a dirty looking tapestry hung from the back wall. A good blanket.

He made his way across the room and tugged it down. It fell to the ground in a burst of dust and cobwebs, and he was forced to brush away the lady black widow that clung to its worn weave. She scurried away into the vines that choked the caved in ceiling and Louis watched her go with regret. He had perhaps, lost his one companion. A spider, but a companion none the less.

He dragged the makeshift blanket across the room and over to the side of the house that was being attacked by moss. At once he went to work at scraping it from the wall with his fingernails. Not much different then scraping the Headmistress’s windowsill, he thought. His long hair fell into his face as he worked, and he vaguely remembered the brief period of time that his fingers had smarted at the rough orphanage work.

Before he had lost his mother to the plague, he had lived a lavish life in one of the upper class townhouses. He remembered with great affection, the way that he would lay on the maroon couch with his head in her lap. He could picture her tailored gloves stroking his cheek and lips, and her kind face peering down at him with unmasked love. Every afternoon they would sit like that together and she would sing her gentle Breton melodies in his ear, and tell him of his father.

Such fanciful images came to mind when she spoke of the man. His thin lips, large eyes, and warm hands. The way that if the sun touched his hair just right, one could see the gold strands amidst the chocolate browns. His mother would smile as she reminisced about the lover she had lost to the war. Louis had never met him, but talking about him always made her happy, so he had quickly learned to humor her. She was heart wrenchingly beautiful when she smiled.

He closed his eyes at the memory of her young face. Why, she could not have been more than two years older than him now. His seventeenth summer this year… At once the memories of the red sitting room disappeared and he was left once again in the darkness of the shack. His lips quirked into a frown. Could he really be seventeen? That meant that he had been at the orphanage at least eight years.

He took the moss that he had pried from the walls, in both of his hands and squeezed them above his mouth. A few droplets of dirty water reached his tongue and he swallowed gingerly. At least he would not die from dehydration here.

Gathering the blanket against the wall, he pushed all of the moss into a corner and rest his head upon it. A little damp, but not particularly uncomfortable. It reminded him of the first night that the pranks began. He had not been at the orphanage for more then a week before the other boys had taken to bossing him around. After all, he was the noble’s brat.

‘Louis, come help me dress will you?’

‘Louis, can you help us get this grime from our boots?’

‘Louis clean the latrine.’

‘Louis, what’s taking so long?’

‘Louis the dog, come on Louis the noble made slave.’

Bastian’s was a sore lot to mess with. They were mostly boys of his age but twice his size, and there were six of them all together. For the most part, they moseyed about town with their shirt fronts open and their hair blowing freely from the little pieces of cloth that tied it from their faces. The women loved them, the girls hated them, and the other town boys found them a good group to spar with. After their usual chores they would run through the narrow side streets and make mischief within the street vendor’s booths, and hold wrestling matches in the middle of town square.

None of them had ever wanted Louis around and so while they were out causing trouble, he had stayed in the orphanage and cooked for the elders. Manning the large oven by himself had earned him the title of ‘Louis the Coal Watcher’ by the Headmistress and the few servants that wandered around on weekends. Any number of baked goods came from the monstrous metal giant. Tarts and sweets, things that he himself was never allowed to take. After all, the good food was to go promptly to the older ones.

Never once did he complain. Honestly, why should he? He had no where else to go. The other boys had no interest in him, and the only other place that he wandered to was the old music man’s place, and then only once a week. The old man was half deaf, but still he nursed Louis’s growing infatuation with the lovely arias of Italy and the surrounding countries.

And that was what he did… He sang and he made good for everyone else… it was the only thing that he could do…. And now…. Sleep… the only thing he could do was sleep.

-

Louis awoke to a warm light pulsating through his eyelids. He rolled over
and stretched his long limbs before sleepily blinking his eyes open. Another day. Only two more to go.

“Ah, I knew that the fire would wake you. Wanting to come closer now, I’ll bet.”

Louis started at the sound of the gruff voice and he sprang to his feet in alarm. There in the middle of the shack sat at lanky man with a coarse golden beard and two almond shaped eyes. His garments were boisterous both in color and shape. Vibrant purples and greens clothed his torso and gold threaded breeches warmed his lower half. He stared appraisingly at the boy and took a long drag on a very ornate pipe. A pair of glasses perched on his nose and his lips curved amiably at their corners as he watched Louis take note that the light that had waken him was not the light of the sun at all, but the more ferocious light of a makeshift fire. “You know, you’re a very deep sleeper. I’ve been here nearly three hours and not once did you notice anything was amiss.”

“How did you get in here?” Louis wondered cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for something sharp should the man prove to be violent.

“I could ask the very same of you,” the man shrugged. His eyes
glittered in the firelight. “Considering the door was locked from the outside. A very simple lock to break by the way. A single blow from my axe and it was fox feed.”

“You broke the lock?” the boy asked, his brows coming closer together in puzzlement. “But why? Why would you want to break into here?”

The man motioned for him to take a seat beside the fire and gave a nod towards the barrels that Louis had noticed earlier. “I’m a trader. This is my storage shack. In those barrels, I’ve fine wines and spices from the orient. Come to bring them in for the great ball that’s coming up for his royal princeliness.”

“Ah…” he nodded, taking a few steps closer. He gave a little sardonic bout of laughter. “To choose his bride again right?”

“I’ve no idea,” the older man shrugged. “I’ve just hitched a wagon ride out here. Had one hell of a time with it too. Got attacked by bandits and lost my horse and half of my wears. Sour business, almost as sour as that tone.”

“Sorry,” Louis said automatically. He took a seat before the fire and pressed his hands out in front of him. He was beginning to like this strange man, and by the kindly wrinkles at his eyes, he knew that he would be of no threat. “It’s just that the royal family has thrown three balls already for him. Apparently he’s thrown fits after each one and run off for months at a time afterwards.”

“Bloody arrogant thing, I assume,” the Trader chuckled. “Were we able to do such selfish things, I doubt we’d be storming off. After all, think of all of those women just throwing themselves at you. Makes me feel damn fine just thinking about it… but anyways, come now, tell this old man, how is it that you’ve come to this shack and gotten yourself locked in from the outside?”

Louis dragged the tapestry up over is shoulders and leaned into the fire. He shuddered at the pleasant warmth and for some reason he felt drunk on the strangeness of this unexpected meeting. “It’s a punishment. The boys at the orphanage framed me and got me into trouble for something I didn’t do.”

“Ah, you’re the runt, right?” the Trader asked gently. The pipe spewed three successive smoke rings. “The skinny little thing that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the pack.”

“You could say that,” Louis shrugged. The blanket hovered around him like an ancient cape, dyed orange by the flickering fire light. “I don’t let it get to me though.”

“Good boy,” he said with another appraising smile. “I could tell just by looking at you, sleeping there with moss for a pillow. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

Louis flushed. A compliment. He had not heard one of those in a while.

“So what did you do to them?”

The boy shrugged, “Nothing. I just did as they asked. I mean, what could I do? I’m stronger then I look, but I’m just one person, and against all six of them…”

“Stronger then you look?” the man laughed with a vague tone of companionship in his voice. “Boy, you’re practically skin and bone. I doubt there’s a muscle on you.”

Louis gave a little laugh of his own, “You’d be surprised sir. I’m actually quite strong.”

The Trader obviously did not believe him, and he puffed another smoke ring from his pipe before shrugging. He seemed to be thinking about something, and after a moment or so of reflection he gave a little cough and said, “Well, a strong lad like you wouldn’t mind helping an old man like me would he?”

Old? Louis forced back a smile. The man could not be older than thirty. He was in the prime of manhood. He shook his head, but said, “I’d be happy to sir.”

The man clapped his large hands and mumbled something through the pipe that dangled from his lips. His eyes were grinning. “Wonderful! And in return, you may select anything from my wares, and you will most definitely be accompanying me to the royal palace tomorrow.”

“The palace?” Louis asked, taken completely aback. “You want me to go with you to the palace?”

“You’d better make use of your mossy pillow boy. We’re leaving bright and early tomorrow.”

The palace grounds stretched on and forever out across Louis’s line of vision. Large arches marked the borders of the indoor square and the line of turrets to his left led the way out into the gardens. All around him strange people spoke to one another in their foreign, native tongues. The French with their rolling syllables never ceased to bring him into a swoon, and the Arabs in their turbans and long robes glared at him when they caught his stares.

He was constantly amazed at the decadence of these exotic peoples. He was a bit self conscious about his tattered clothing and worn shoes, but he was too awestruck by everything around him to care much.

The indoor square reeked of baked goods and fine roasted meats. Incense reached his nose and seduced him into the hands of the salesman’s wives. They showed him their long ropes of pearls and golden rings, placing his hands at their large bosoms to feel perhaps more than the priceless necklaces that rested there. Then there was the booth of weapons that called to him, as it would to any young boy. He examined the blades with reverence, not even daring to brush their hilts with his dirty fingers.

Only the Trader’s hands could have pulled him away from there, but pull they did, and soon he found himself against the bearded man’s small beer belly. The man laughed at his excited expression, “Is this really so new to you? I suppose that you didn’t even notice that those blades were hideously overpriced. I could buy at least three of their equal just outside the palace grounds. Come now boy, you’ve done a bloody good job of hauling those wine barrels down here with me, but I’ve a bit more to be done here before we can enjoy ourselves.”

“Trader, please, may I look around a bit more on my own? I’ve never been here before and I…”

The man gave him a little push and then a wide grin, “What was I thinking, trying to imprison a curious young boy at my side when there is so much to take in here? Yes, yes, go right on ahead. Find yourself a young maiden to woo. Have fun! I’ll be at the money booth. I’ll be needing the currency of this land. If you don’t find me there when you’re done, then just head back up to the shack. I’ll meet you back there at nightfall.”

The early morning had given way to the afternoon heat and soon Louis found himself leaning back against the chill tile of the central fountain. The presence of the water cooled his burning flesh and he relaxed against it as any street urchin might. Oh what an adventure! He had been on the palace grounds on his own. Not even Bastian had done it! Sure there had been the balls, but never had any of the other boys been there alone. Of course he could not tell him that he had left the shack, but what a wonderful secret he could hold to himself.

“Bloody heat drive you here too?” came a friendly voice from beside him.

Half expecting it to be the Trader Louis nodded and gave a snort, “I don’t even think the royals themselves could resist this place at this time of day.”

“Damn right about that!”

A boy about his age plopped down next to him on the cool cobblestone. His long golden hair was tied gently from his face and his freckles peeked out at Louis from the boy’s pale skin. He was wearing the rags of a commoner, with a tunic torn in one corner and a smudge of ash smeared across one cheek. He offered him a hand and grinned. “Name’s Cole.”

He took it and they shook. “Louis.”

The fair haired boy looked out across the square and ran a hand
through his long hair. In his spare hand he juggled the pips of an apple. He almost dropped it once.. Twice, before looking at Louis and then asking, “Want it? It’ll keep you cool. Promise.”

“Thanks,” he said, catching it as the boy tossed it to him. The fruit was sweet and juicy with just the faintest taste of Cole’s lips, and Louis bit into it eagerly, spitting the seeds into the fountain.

“You’re scarfing that thing like you haven’t eaten in a month,” Cole observed with a laugh. His fingers caught at the ribbon that held his hair from his face. “Are you really that hungry?”

Louis noticed the blunder, and shook his head in embarrassment, “Nah. The man I was with bought me breakfast this morning. Just not used to getting to eat my fill of much of anything.”

“Life outside the palace that bad?” the boy wondered with an innocent cock of his head.

“You’re not from outside?”

“Agh!” The boy cursed under his breath, before shaking his head. “Nah, nah, I’m the cook’s boy. I live in here.”

“Oh,” Louis replied, tossing the remnants of the apple over his shoulder. He shrugged. “Yeah, out there, it’s survival of the fittest for sure. Table scraps for dinner and breakfast. No lunch or anything. Where I live, there’s hardly enough for the rest of the boys to eat their fill.”

“Big family?” the other boy asked. It was obvious that he was quickly losing interest in their conversation.

“Orphanage,” Louis said softly.

Cole looked over at him and his lips tightened, “You’re an orphan?”

The dark haired boy nodded.

“Bloody bad luck, eh? Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, hoisting himself to his feet. He gave Louis a strange look, before offering his hand again. “Say, you want to go somewhere cooler? This just isn’t doing it for me! Come on, it’ll be quieter too. Promise.”

Louis blinked, but with merely a second of hesitation, he took the other boy’s hand and let him lead him quickly through the crowd. His mouth watered. Another adventure.

-

“What is this place?” Louis wondered, spinning around to take in everything around him. Cole had taken him to a small room made up of stained glass. The sun filtered through the lovely paintings of angels and of the Virgin with the little baby Jesus in her arms, and stroked the budding heads of the plants that sat on tables in the center of the room. Louis moved over to them and gently stroked a single tiny green bulb.

Cole closed the door behind them and tugged off his cloak and tunic, revealing his pale stomach and chest. The colored light painted his flesh, and tiny cherubs danced along his lithe body as he moved to the dark haired boy’s side. He spread his arms wide and gave Louis a pleasant look. “This is the palace green house. Small, I know, but hey, it’s much quieter. I can actually hear you in here, and over there there’s a water pale, so if you get too hot you can just dunk your head.”

“Won’t someone be angry if they catch us in here?” Louis wondered, looking back at the blonde boy with an almost fearful look on his face.

“You’re an awful worrisome thing, aren’t you?” Cole laughed. He hoisted himself up onto the table beside the little plant that Louis was tending. “You see what this is? This’ll be baby’s breath when it grows. I’ve been watering it twice a day and…. This is a little empty headed I know, but I sing to it too sometimes. I heard the gardener say once that if you talked or sang to a plant it would live longer… Stupid I know, but you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

He shook his head.

“You know, I usually come here alone. You’re the first person that I’ve ever shown this place to,” he said, gazing down at the bud with a certain perplexity that immediately put Louis at ease. “So what’s it like outside of the palace?”

“Lonelier,” he chuckled, reaching out instinctively to brush a little green bug from Cole’s shoulder. The boy laughed but motioned for him to continue. “I dunno. There are a lot of people you know, but they’re so caught up in the flow of things that they hardly want or have the time to talk.”

“I know how that is.”

“You feel like that too?”

“All the time I’m afraid,” Cole shrugged. He caught Louis’s eyes and made a face. “’round here you’re always being judged by the nobles and the royals and everyone else. They’re so stuck on being the most fashionable, or on debating about the country, that they never want to just run through the streets and kick up dust you know. What I wouldn’t give for some good old fashion mischief.”

“You want to cause trouble?”

“Well, not trouble really… I just want to kick up dust! You don’t know what I mean when I say that do you?” he made a face. “It means, I want to do something that makes people look at me. You know like those men and women who act up on the stages in the town. I’d do anything to be able to act like that, to have all of those people to admire me.”

“Be lucky that you have food on your plate in the morning,” Louis reproved softly. He turned and his eyes stretched up along the stained glass wall. “Those actors and actresses hardly make enough to keep themselves going. They go for days without food.”

“I’d do that,” Cole said, brushing off his comment.

“You say that now, but it’s not that simple,” he replied. He moved away from the table and paced down towards the next one. His eyes never left the windows. “I wish it was… but it’s not.”

“You think that I couldn’t do it?” he asked, pouncing from the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “I can do anything if I want to.”

“No one can do anything they want, not even the royals,” Louis said, tugging an absent hand through his tangled hair.

“I can!” he growled, watching the other boy wandering through the room. “If you can do it Louie the wild, Louie the untamable street rat, Louie the commoner, then I certainly can!”

“Then come with me!” he cried unexpectedly. “Come live with me for one night away from the palace. Come live with me in the forest.”

“I will!” he shot back. “And I’ll do it without a damn complaint.”

“Let’s go then. The sun will be setting soon, and we’ve got to get back before it gets to dark to see.”

This time it was Louis’s turn to lead the way.

-

By the time night had fallen, Cole was drenched in sweat, his pale chest heaving as he tugged in the last bundle of fire wood into the shack. His fine hair was matted and clung to his face like a spider web to rafters. When he tried to brush it away with his shoulder, it just got stuck again.

“This enough to last another two days?” Louis asked the Trader as he leaned over his barrels and took inventory of his wares. The bearded man turned to look at the stack and the last two bundles that the boys brought in. He gave a brilliant smile, “That’ll last us through tonight and tomorrow morning. We won’t be needing a fire for any longer than that. Would one of you feed it before it dies though?”

“Let me dump my pile first,” the dark haired boy said, carefully piling the last of the wood. Cole followed after him, wiping his brow, but keeping his word. He did not complain. Louis took a few logs from the stack and quickly tossed them into the fire. It would be a cold night, he could feel it.

“You boys ready for a meal?” the Trader asked, digging through one of his barrels and producing three strips of salted, dried meat. He put his pipe in a leather bag at his belt and stuck the jerky between his teeth. Both Louis and Cole accepted the food eagerly and the three munched at it in companionable silence.

Louis took the tapestry from where it lay beside his moss pillow and wrapped it around Cole’s shoulders. He smiled, “Use it as a blanket, it gets cold out here at night.”

“I’m burning to death Louie,” he said, but he took the tapestry willingly. “I didn’t know that chopping wood could be so much bloody work.”

“Be happy that you didn’t have to catch your own food. It would have taken twice as long. You’d have to fashion a fishing rod I suppose and see what you could find in the creek,” the Trader said drooling a little onto his beard as he chewed. He made a few more scratches on a little piece of parchment, before exclaiming, “I’ve sold at least… eighty percent of my wares and I doubled what I thought I’d make. Damn good for my first day in town!”

Cole grinned and Louis was practically glowing.

Suddenly he realized what he had already begun to take for granted. It had just happened so naturally that he had not even noticed what had occurred. He was in the company of two friends. Friends. Louis the dog had companions now. He couldn’t help but feel wonderful!

“What are you planning on doing tomorrow Trader?” he asked.

“The ball is day after next, so I’ll probably just sell off the rest of what I’ve got here and then just relax. Enjoy the festivities, you know?” He gave a sly grin. “And the women.”

The boys laughed at the comical look on his face.

Cole looked over at Louis and rest his chin in his hands, “You’ll be going right Louie?”

“Going where? To the palace market again?” he wondered, scooting closer to the fire.

He shook his head, “No. To the ball.”

“I don’t think so..”

“Scared the Headmistress and the other boys’ll notice you’re gone,” the Trader remarked with a nod. He gave Louis an affectionate look. “Don’t be. They’ll be busy at the ball themselves…”

Cole blinked in confusion, but after a moment or so he brushed it away, “Yeah, Louie, you should go. I’ll be there and I sure as hell don’t want to go alone.”

Louis stared helplessly at the Trader, but when he shrugged, he found himself looking a fierce good opportunity right in the face. Why shouldn’t he go to the ball? The other orphans were, and the two of them were probably right. No one would notice that he was there at all… And he had a friend to go with.

“Well you decide,” the Trader said stroking his beard and making his way towards the shack door. “As for me, I’ve got to go relieve myself. To much creek water.”

Cole grinned and the two boys watched his back as he disappeared into the woods. The blonde boy looked over at his bony friend and motioned him closer, “Come here, you look cold.”

“You’d think that I’d still be warm from cutting the wood, but nights out here are just unbearable,” Louis chuckled as he moved over beside Cole and he covered him with half of the tapestry. They huddled together and leaned into the fire, before Louis laughed at the awkwardness of sharing a blanket with another boy.

“You’re flushed Louie,” Cole said with a teasing cringe. “Could you be heating up already? I’ve that affect on people you know.”

Louis shoved him and soon the two of them were wrestling good-
naturedly along the shack’s dirty floor. In the end Cole somehow managed to overpower the dark eyed boy, and he pinned his wrists down and held him still against the chill wood. His long blonde hair had slipped from its bindings and tickled Louis’s nose. He fought the impulse to sneeze and Cole laughed mischievously, “Now then, I’m not going to let you up unless you promise to go to that ball.”

“Cole! Cole, come on!” he growled, trying as best as he could to get the
heavier boy off of him. “I won’t fit in there. I haven’t gotten any clothes, I have no way to make myself look presentable. It’s impossible.”

“I’m not getting off,” he threatened.

“Bloody hell Cole!”

“Promise to go to the ball!” he laughed, his nose inches from Louis’s.

Louis exhaled angrily, “You sweat like a hog when you cut wood and I come out not even slightly tired, but you manage to beat me at wrestling… just my luck. I’ll go damn it, now get off of me!”

Cole grinned, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

And he leaned down and kissed him.

Louis’s eyes widened with shock as Cole drew off of him and released his wrists.

“Ah, that was refreshing!” the Trader sighed as he opened the door and let himself into the shack. He stretched his arms over his head and his shoulders popped. “I think I’m about ready to call it a night.”

Cole nodded, speaking as though nothing at all had happened, “Me too, if tomorrow will be as grueling as today was. So what do you use as bedding around here.”

Louis was still too shocked to speak.

“Well the boy used the tapestry as a blanket and that moss that he scraped off the wall as a pillow. I’d say it works rather well, but I’m partial to nodding off on my arms,” the trader said amiably. He stripped off a few of his vests and discarded his scarf and gloves, before settling down by the fire and closing his eyes. “This my friends is peace in its highest form. Sleep well boys.”

“The moss Louie,” Cole said, prodding him gently with an elbow. The darker haired boy nodded mutely and slowly gathered it to them. He separated it into two little green pads.

“You can use this one and I can use that,” he said, his voice shaking a little as he spoke. Ever so slowly he leaned back and let the cool vegetation pillow his head. He watched as Cole did the same with his own makeshift bedding. “Night.”

“Night Louie,” he whispered, and his head somehow found itself against Louis’s chest. His arms wound their way about his tiny waist and his fingers clutched tightly to his loose tunic.

Louis blinked again. How odd it was, this boy clinging to him like the maidens that Bastian had snuck into their bed chambers at night. How strange that he should feel his lips pressed so firmly against his own. Strange, but not uncomfortable. Actually with the larger boy holding him within his arms, he felt a sense of security that he hadn’t felt since his mother died, so long ago. He trembled at the thought, but Cole’s thin arms held him steady and his rhythmic breathing granted him steady passage to the secret world of dreams.

-

“I haven’t worked so hard in my whole life!” Cole laughed, splashing Louis with creek water as he kicked about in the narrow channel. Louis winced as the water struck him in the eye, and the pale boy laughed all the harder. “You weren’t kidding. You really weren’t. How do you people ever survive?”

“We do this kind of thing every day,” he said with a sincere smile. He let his bare feet dangle in the cool current and watched as the tiny fish darted every which way to escape the new obstacle.

“Such an adventure!” Cole said, collapsing in the water and letting it soak into his trousers. “Do you know how great this is? To actually be able to breathe. To be able to just throw my head back and…”

He burst into the first stanza of a folk song, forgot the words, and the two of them broke into a fit of laughter.

“I can’t wait to see you in those clothes that the Trader picked out for you Louie. You’ll be stunning, the finest gentleman in the whole ballroom, aside from me of course,” he grinned. He caught a crimson leaf in his hand and sent it spiraling down a tiny series of waterfalls. “What a pair we’ll make, you and I. Everyone will turn and look at us and say, why who are those young gentlemen? How glorious they look.”

“Do you have to go back?” Louis asked softly, watching the golden haired boy dirty himself in the muddy water.

“Of course I have to go back,” Cole said, making a face. “It’s my duty. Trust me. As much as I want to stay out here… and I do, really I do.. I can’t Louie. I’ve got a future. I’ve got obligations. Things to plan after the ball. You know, grand things.”

“Grand things?”

“I’m a grand person,” Cole winked, giving a semi bow and a grand flourish. “That’s why you wanted so badly for me to come with you out here. You
were looking for a breath of fresh air.”

“I was looking for a companion,” Louis answered truthfully. He brushed his hair behind his ears and pursed his lips.

“And you’ve found one Louie dear,” he said, playfully tossing a rock at him. “But I’ve got to go. My parents will be worried about me. I’m sure they already are, what with me disappearing the day before the ball. They’re probably horrified. I’ve gotta go, and besides, you’ll see me tomorrow.”

“I’ll miss this.”

“I’ll miss you, but you’ll see me again.”

-

“Stop fussing, you’ll muss up the vest,” the Trader said, giving Louis an encouraging pat on the back. He smiled charmingly as a woman in a low cut gown waltzed by and batted her long lashes at him.

The ball was in full swing. The lords and ladies coming down in a
procession from the marble staircase that lead inevitably to the empty throne that
would house the King and Queen and their two sons. The married prince and the prince that was still searching for his bride.

Louis and the Trader had arrived early through the servants quarters, so as to escape the inquisitive glances of the occupants of the orphanage. The less attention they attracted, the better, though it seemed that it was already a tad late for that.

Just as Cole had predicted, Louis was absolutely stunning. He stood like a regal shadow in the back of the room, his hair brushed to a healthy sheen and tied by a lace ribbon at the nape of his neck. The Trader had selected only the finest clothing of his wares to garb the awkward boy. The vest that he wore was sewn with gold and earthy hues, outfitted by tiny emeralds here and there along the front clasps. Lace fell from his throat and collected at the very ends of his sleeves. He wore shoes of the finest leather, with a clasp of silver to keep them together. He was truly a sight to be beheld.

Ladies whispered from behind paper fans at the two and the Trader took full advantage of it, greeting each young girl who offered him her little gloved hand. Louis had plenty of women throwing themselves at him as well, but each he politely declined.

“Where is he?” he asked eagerly over the sweet music that tinged the air. “Do you see him anywhere?”

The Trader looked out across the sea of candle light and powdered faces. The room sparkled with finery that blinded the eyes momentarily, and he shook his head as though by doing so, he could take it all in without trouble. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Calm yourself boy, things will be fine. Any signs of the orphanage boys?”

“Down at the food table,” he said, nodding slightly in their direction. “I don’t see Bastian though. He’s their leader…”

He fidgeted uneasily from foot to foot.

A burst of trumpets startled him from his unease and he would have jumped had the Trader not put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“The King and Queen, Prince Henry and wife, and Prince Christopher!”

The dance floor parted respectfully and soon Louis found himself bowing with the rest of the guests. He watched as the ladies took the chance to steal glances at the bachelor prince, who’s heart they longed to steal. He noticed quite a few young ladies tugging to bring down the bust line of their dresses, and he colored to see their plump breasts peaking from beneath the satin and velvet.

“Welcome to Prince Christopher’s engagement ball!”

“My bloody…. Louis, look up!” the Trader exclaimed under his breath.

“Have you found him?” Louis cried, lifting his head and peering across the room. He caught him at first glance, garbed in a vest of pale blue with cream colored lace leaking from his cuffs and collar. His hair was pulled back and his fingers were adorned with rings and other precious gems. At his throat was a large amber amulet and his royal cheek bones stood out from the rest of his powdered face.

“Did you know….?” the Trader whispered in awe.

Louis blinked.

“He’s the bloody Prince Christopher himself! The little imp tricked us!”

The music resumed and Louis looked at the Trader in confusion, “But that’s impossible. He was running around in rags!”

“He’s made a fool of us both,” the bearded man sighed. A pretty woman waved at him, but his smile was only half hearted.

“I have to talk to him,” Louis said gently. He did not wait for the Trader’s
reply. Pushing through the crowd of fine ladies and merry gentlemen, he worked his way to the front of the hall. Sure enough, there he was, draped in all of his finery, dancing with a beautiful young Spanish woman with dark hair and dark eyes. “Christopher!”

Cole looked up and when he caught sight of Louis, his pale cheeks began to glow with pleasure. He bowed to the young lady and kissed her gloved hand before he took Louis by the arm and pulled him through the crowds of people, and across the dance floor. “To the green house, Louie.”
-

“If that wasn’t the bloody worst crowd I’ve ever cut through….” the prince laughed, panting as he gained his breath.

“You filthy liar!” Louis cried, shutting the green house door behind him. The room was without light, but still resonated with the warmth of the early afternoon. The plants loomed above them in the heady darkness and shadowed Louis’s handsome face as it contorted with disbelief, anger and hurt.

“You never asked me if I was the prince, so I never told you I was!” Cole said with a smile. He opened his arms wide. “And what if I had told you Louie? Would you have treated me the way you did? Would you have let me press you to the ground, or chop wood, or sing and dirty my pants in the stream? You would’ve been a completely different person. You wouldn’t have been you!”

“You never know,” he shot back, shaking his head. “I bloody well might have been!”

“And now we’ll never know, because what’s done is done, and I’m damn happy with what’s happened!”

“You’ve got nothing to be happy about! You deceived me!”

“What do you want me to say Louie? Do you want me to say, yes I deceived you. Yes I lied when I told you my name, when I told you I was the cook’s son. What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? Tell me Louie. Bloody hell….”

And his lips were there again, pressing him back up against the table and knocking him backwards. The two fell in an unholy heap of tangled limbs and mussed up hair. The budding plants were thrown from the table as Cole worked to undo Louis’s vest buttons, and the dark haired boy fumbled as though he did not know what to do. Soon Cole’s cool hands were on his cheek and neck and his lips trailed to the hollow of his throat.

“Freedom Louie… Everything that you’ve been to me in the past three days has been freedom…”

“You can’t do this Cole,” he whispered feebly.

“We’ve already had this argument,” he growled, nipping at his neck. “I can do anything I want to, remember?”

And he pulled Louis to him again and showered his bony face with kisses.

The door to the green house flung open.

“And what do we have here?” crowed a mocking voice, cold in its unwanted familiarity. “Could it be the Bachelor Prince and Louis the dog?”

Cole drew back in surprise at the intrusion and whirled around to face the threat.

“Bastian,” Louis snarled.

“So you’re not only a dog, you’re a faggot too?” the boy laughed. “Don’t worry your highness, let me take this little toad off your hands. Take care of them!”

From behind him, the remaining five boys sprung from the darkness. Gallantly Cole grabbed hold of a shovel and began to swing wildly at them, but three of the attackers had him overpowered and held him back as they pried Louis away from him. The prince was frantic, kicking, wheeling from side to side with all his strength, but the boys who held him were twice his size. “Louie! Damn it! Don’t touch him! Louie!”

The third boy that had gone after the prince was no longer needed, so he ran towards the front of the green house and helped them drag Louis outside.

Bastian stood like an ancient shadow against the moon and shook his head. “I knew it would come to this. Take what you get you bloody faggot.”

-

The sentence was another three days in the shack.

Bruised and battered, Bastian and his lot had spit on him one by one as they closed the door of the little shack and locked the door with a new chain and deadbolt.

Of course, they had not counted on the Trader coming back. They had only had one run in with the man and that was by far the last they ever wanted. After they had beaten Louis profusely and he had been knocked unconscious, the Trader had come to his rescue. He chased the boys off, fighting like a mad man, until each of the orphans had their own battle scars to remind them of the night.

Cole had come away from it with only a few bruises, and he left Louis to the Trader’s care with worry tingeing his eyes and weariness eating at his spirit.

The Trader had taken him back to the orphanage where his wounds were treated and then he was left to the Headmistress. Of course the other boys lied, and she believed in majority rule, so it was no surprise that he had ended up back at the shack.

However he was not worried. As a matter of fact, when the Trader broke the lock with his axe, Louis could only smile and embrace the man for all he had done for him. In the course of three days he had become a sort of guardian angel to the boy.

For two days they talked together and kept one another company, when at last they heard the thundering of a horse’s hooves and into the familiar dwelling, emerged the fair haired prince. He smiled gently at the two men, kissed Louis’s cheek, and offered him his hand, “Come on Louie, I think it’s time you came home.”

-Lauren Hatch