Hello! Very sorry for the long wait – real life as of late has delved into new terrain, which always seems to hinder fanfic writing just a wee bit. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I like that many of you seemed to have the same gut instinct about James…

Disclaimer: I borrowed a few lines here straight from Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted.

ooo

The next morning, I awoke to James's cot neatly packed away and with him nowhere to be found.

Sam was by the river, trying to repair his makeshift fishing pole with some twine. "He left early with Tom and Fred to a nearby village. He heard you mention you'd used up the last of your herbs last night and they wanted to gather a few more supplies."

I sat down beside him, washing the grime off my face with a little bit of water. I sighed, squinting up at the cloudless sky. I could already tell it was going to be another unforgivably hot day. "It's just as well," I muttered. "Tell me, Sam. Is he always so…" I picked up a pebble and tried to skip it across the water. "Insufferable?"

Sam shrugged. "He's our leader."

I frowned. "That's no excuse to be a cad."

"No one's ever called him a cad but you," Sam smirked. "At least, no one we weren't in the process of robbing. Besides, I don't know why you two argue so much. You're quite alike, you know."

I snorted. "I believe our similarities end after 'warm-blooded mammals.'"

"No, it's true," he insisted. "He's from noble blood, that James is. He doesn't like to talk about it because it goes against his whole I-hate-the-rich philosophy, but he is."

I stared down at Sam, who was still working on his fishing pole. "Truly?"

He nodded. "His family had a manor and everything - servants, cooks. His father worked for the king - he was the Prince and the Princess's languages tutor. Unfortunately, James's mother got ill and died, and that's when his father started drinking. Drinking caused terrible flares in his temper, which got him in some trouble with the king's son. The Prince had caught him yelling at his sister during a lesson and wasn't too pleased about it, so he fired him," Sam explained nonchalantly. "To make matters worse, the Prince blacklisted him in the entire kingdom. James's father couldn't get a job anywhere, even if he wanted."

I hadn't realized I'd raised my fingers to my lips during Sam's story. I recognized this tale from one of Char's letters.

"Without a job, James's father's drinking got worse. And James - he was just a lad, you know? He had been training as a knight's squire but once they found out his father had been blacklisted by the King, they'd booted him out, too. Eventually they lost their manor. James's father died shortly after, and James was on his own. He sold everything he had - which wasn't much by then - and started living on the road. And now here we are."

It all made sense now - his derision towards nobility and the royals. I felt conflicted. It was no excuse, the way James paraded about, mocking others who were different from him… but my heart also ached for him and his misfortune. After all, he'd had no part in his father's mistakes. And yet he'd been punished, too.

"How do you know all this?" I asked Sam.

"James got drunk one night and told us," he answered. "Never mentioned it again after that and none of us are dimwitted enough to ask."

I leaned back, soaking in what Sam had just divulged to me about James. Eventually I left camp just to be alone, and I ducked under the shade of a large tree. I fished out Char's letters from my things and searched for the one that had mentioned his languages tutor.

I am slow to anger, but also slow to forgive, Char had written. For example, my languages tutor had a way of making me feel a fool. I endured his abuse but learned less than I might have if he'd been encouraging. Cecilia, who inherited his instruction after me, received the same treatment. The first time I found her crying, I warned him. The second time, I dismissed him. Father trusted my judgment enough to let my action stand.

I went further. Boy as I was, I took measures to ensure the tutor would teach no more. But although my victory was complete and the man was ruined, and six years have passed, the thought of him still infuriates me.

Had Char known that his tutor had a son? Had Char known that by ruining his tutor, he would also ruin the lives of those who depended on his living to survive? Char was just a boy when this had happened, and he'd been out for revenge. Vengeance had a way of making any man shortsighted.

Sam caught a few fish, which we cooked and ate for lunch. We repaired the broken traps and I mended some of the boys' torn clothes. Because it was just he and I alone, I even read him one of the stories from my fairy book and he asked me more about finishing school. He told me about his own life – how his mother had gotten ill and died a few years ago, and soon after, his father had left him on his own. It was a familiar tale echoed by many of the boys in the group. They had all been abandoned in some way, and so young.

"When James found me, I was in an alley begging for scraps," Sam said. "I hadn't eaten for two days. He saw me crumpled in that dark alleyway and gave me a piece of bread and some water. I thought he was an angel." He sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. "I think I would have died in that alley if he hadn't found me. The others would probably tell you the same."

I swam in the river while Sam napped, thinking about his story. I wondered if James would have ever told me he'd saved those boys' lives – or about his father.

It was already almost nightfall when they finally returned. I was heading back from collecting firewood and foraging for edible berries and mushrooms when I heard their voices. When I entered the camp, James was there, smiling at me expectantly. He got up, walking over to me.

"I'm afraid you've turned the boys into snobs," he grinned. "They went into a near panic the other night when you'd mentioned you'd used the last of your herbs."

He handed me a bundle of herbs and spices that was surely enough to last us at least another month. I felt my heart dip in my chest. "Thank you."

"Thank you," he said. "You've exposed us to the wonders of high-class pigeon."

Famished from their trip, they finished the rest of the fish Sam and I had roasted for supper. They'd also shared some of the bread they'd brought back. It was old bread, but that was to be expected. Old bread was the cheapest kind.

As they sat around the fire and talked, I couldn't help but watch James. I found myself feeling a strange mix of emotions, knowing what I knew now about his past. It had been easier to be annoyed by him and to dismiss his arrogance when he'd been just a bigheaded bandit with the occasional foray into gentlemanlike decency.

I observed the way the boys looked at him, too. As if they hung on his every word. I could not blame them. He had shown them kindness and saved their lives during a time they needed it most. Sure, he snapped and scolded at them once in a while, but I also saw how protective of them he was. Their own families had either passed on or abandoned them, so they formed a new family.

The boys quickly fell asleep, tired after hours of traveling. Soon, it was just James and I awake around the fire. Strange how it usually fell upon the two of us to be awake after everyone else had gone to sleep.

I stood up, and his eyes followed me. "I'm going to rinse out our dishes in the river."

I took a lantern with me, walking down to the bank. Suddenly I heard his footsteps behind me.

"You've been quiet," he said. "Are you still angry with me about what I said last night?"

I chuckled to myself. "Would it matter?"

"Perhaps," he said. "Not hearing you speak feels abnormal. I've grown used to you criticizing me and my character. Not to mention I quite miss the bitter taste of humility."

I crouched down on the bank, dipping the dishes into the water and scrubbing it with a coarse leaf. When I was done, I stood up, the dishes in my hands. James was still there.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

He blinked, confused.

"About your father," I continued. "And the Prince."

Realization dawned on his face and he let out a bitter laugh. "I take it Sam told you."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I asked, coming closer.

He wiped his hands on his trousers and stood up, running his fingers through his dark hair. "I don't know, Ella of Frell. Perhaps I missed the part where we vowed to tell each other all of our deepest, darkest secrets." He turned away, grabbing a few pebbles and skipping them across the water.

I scowled at his back. "Is hostility always your reaction when someone's trying to understand you?"

"Only when their intentions are less than pure."

I scoffed. "Less than pure?"

"Precisely. I bet you all the KJs in the kingdom you're going to try to convince me that your beloved Prince isn't as spiteful and hypocritical as the rest of them." He turned back around to look at me, and my skin burned in the darkness. "Well? Am I right, then?"

"He was just a boy."

"Ah, there it is," James said. "Ella of Frell, Patron Saint of Misunderstood Royals."

I ignored him. "I'm sure that if he knew ruining your father would also ruin you that he would have been far less severe-"

"Who says he didn't know my father had a son?" James said, bitterly. "He knew, Ella. He just didn't care."

James had turned away from me now, glaring out into the river. I watched the back of his figure, tense and tightly coiled. I knew that if Char knew what had happened to James, he would have wanted to atone. James was wrong. Char had been spiteful and young, that was true. But if he was given the chance to remedy this, he would, in a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," I said, softly.

James shook his head. "You're the last person who needs to apologize. The noble life's wronged you, as well." He turned to look at me. "Tell me, if you were so close to the prince - why didn't you tell him about your stepmother and stepsisters forcing you into servitude?"

I looked away. "The prince has many battles to fight in his lifetime," I said. "And mine was mine to fight alone."

James smiled, as if amused. "Or you could say you were too proud to tell him you were unhappy."

I thought about it for a second. "That, too."

"Is that why you lied to him and told him you'd married?"

"No," I said. I stepped away, sensing this would be the start of a conversation I was trying to avoid. "It's late. We'd better go back and rest while we can."

"Oh, come on, Ella," James said, behind me. "Now you know my secret. It's only fair that I should know yours."

"The world isn't fair, James," I said. "You of all people should know that."

Suddenly, I felt something pull me back. I looked down and saw that James had grabbed my hand. Not tightly, but firmly just the same.

"The moment I met you, I knew there was something different about you," James said. His eyes were dark and serious, and his voice was in a low murmur that made something in the pit of my stomach stir. "You're hiding something. You always sneak away with that book of yours – I may be a thief, Ella, but I'm no fool. I know that's no ordinary book of fairytales. And I know you're no ordinary maiden."

My breath hitched in my throat. "You're wrong," I said, my throat burning. "I'm as ordinary as they come."

There was a low smirk in his voice. "If you're ordinary, then I'm Princess Cecilia."

I shook my head. "Then I daresay you've been out of society far too long," I said to him, quietly. I pulled my hand back, clenching it into a fist by my side as I walked away.

ooo

Over the next few days, the fairy book was generous with details about how the castle was preparing for Princess Emeline's visit – perhaps even torturously so. I was suddenly privy to the minutiae of the royal preparations – the menu for the week she'd be there, the schedule of the laundering of her quarters' linens, the sorts of flowers they thought would suit her, and the ball they were going to hold in her honor. It felt like a strange sort of escape – to catch the invisible mutterings of a busy castle so far from where I was. But I kept reading, hoping the book would be kind enough to indulge me once again with a page out of Char's journal. I wondered if he was nervous – if he'd taken his father's words to heart. Or if he would be as diplomatic as ever and continue to consider it business as usual.

"You've been around the kingdom," I said, as James and I walked through the woods. The boys walked ahead of us, talking amongst themselves. "Have you ever heard of Princess Emeline?"

"Princess Emeline?" he echoed. "You mean the jewel of Ostravia? The woman rumored to have a face that convinced two brothers to break out into a fight in the middle of chapel? That Princess Emeline?"

I frowned, feeling a sting of jealousy. "I suppose so."

James laughed. "I'm only teasing. I've never heard of her." He glanced at me. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "I like knowing who's who. Just because I'm sleeping in the woods and eating squirrel doesn't mean I should be so out of touch with the kingdom."

James was quiet. I looked up to see him looking at me oddly.

"I will never understand why you would care about someone who carries on just fine not knowing you exist," he said.

I shook my head. "Heavens. Must you really be so…"

"Honest?" he suggested.

"Unlikeable," I finished.

"Unlikeable's only an insult if you care about being liked. And as it is, I have far better use of my time than to distort myself to fit into people's fickle whims."

"Liar," I muttered.

His head snapped up. "Pardon?"

"I don't believe you," I said, speaking louder. "You wouldn't do half the decent things you do unless you cared at least a little bit about being liked."

He snorted. "Like what?"

"Like buying me those herbs from the village," I pointed out. "You didn't have to. I never asked you to. Neither did the boys. But you did it."

"Not to curry any favor from you, surely," he quipped.

We met eyes briefly and I smiled victoriously. He looked away. I could've sworn he was blushing.

"It's not my fault I've taken a liking to rosemary-stuffed pigeon," James grumbled. "Or that the only one who seems to be able to cook them to perfection is a feisty maiden with a penchant for getting herself into trouble."

At this, James walked ahead to join the boys, and I continued to smile to myself, perfectly content with my apparent talent in unnerving him.

Short chapter, I know, but feel free to drop me a review! :)