Annabel was in the entrance hall with a duster when the princes returned, arms slung about each other's shoulders, looking delightfully tousled as ever. Prince Charming, the elder, strode, and so did the younger, but with quick, alternating glances at his elder brother's steps and face, checking what he was doing. Annabel was almost certain that the younger prince's mimicry was unconscious, a mere by-product of growing up in the huge, dense, exuberant shadow of Charming.

Charming seized his brother around the neck and noogied him in the head, causing the younger prince – what on earth was his name? Annabel wondered – to pull away with a shout of laughter and shake his head like a horse, scattering water everywhere. It was then that Annabel noticed that they both looked like they had gone swimming with their clothes on - mostly on, she amended, with an eye on their open shirts. It was also then that they noticed her.

"You there! Girl!" Annabel froze as the heir's voice pinned her in place. Please don't let him ask me to bring him new clothes. Please, please… Annabel wasn't sure whether prayer worked, but she was praying with all her might now. Such an invitation she could not refuse, and it could, and likely would, destroy her reputation, as well as the little she possessed that might make her an attractive wife.

God was listening, apparently. "Send for my steward. Have him meet me in my room with a change of clothes," Charming continued.

"And mine," put in the nameless younger prince.

"And his," added Charming.

Annabel dropped a quick curtsey and fled as Charming continued speaking to his brother. "And her voice—oh, my God, what a voice! I'm sure you've never heard anything so beautiful."

"I'd argue that, brother…" The younger prince's argument, whatever it was, was lost as Annabel closed the small servants' door. She leaned against it, pulse still hard in her neck as she thanked Heaven for the near miss, and also for the fact that she wasn't the one who had to rescue the younger prince's leather hose. Then she picked up her skirts a little and ran. It wouldn't do to delay, or she ran the risk of being remembered.