The Prince's Angel

Chapter Two - Encounter

A pang of grief hit Stefan, realizing she wasn't there. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. The one-year anniversary of her death was today. It must have slipped into his subconscious.

"No more sadness," he told himself. He dressed quickly and tried to wake Torin, who protested at being roused so early. The vibrant spring sun had shot over the horizon already, and Stefan decided not to wait for his little brother.

Skipping down the grand staircase, he took a shortcut through the throne room and descended in a spiral tower down to the kitchens. It was steamy and hot, and even though the windows facing the ocean were thrown open to let in the salty spring air, the pressing heat stifled Stefan. He liked it better outside, where he could breathe.

Mem was directing her army of cooks, briefing them on details for the memorial supper they were having at the palace that night. This being the first of many, there had been much commotion in the village the past few days.

"Stefan, are you ready for our outing?" Mem asked when she spied him standing by the door.

"Yes, Mem."

Soon they were off across the stone bridge that stretched from the island castle to the mainland, and they veered off into the side streets where the marketplace rang with noise. The pair stopped at a myriad of what had been Lisette's favorite shops, to commemorate her passing. A bakery, where they bought sweet sticky rolls with spices; the candlemaker's, where they purchased candles for the vigil that night; and the local fisherman's stalls for some blue sea bass that Mother had loved.

When the sun was high overhead, they took a path down to the beach. A servant brought a yawning Torin down to join them. Stefan kicked off his shoes and ran through the waves, and Torin scavenged through the wet sand for clams. Mem had suggested they find a jar, and every year pick a pretty shell to add, since Mother had enjoyed hunting for seashells.

"Stefan, look!" Torin held up a scalloped white and tan shell. "Wouldn't Mama like this?"

"Yes, Torin, she would." Stefan sat down by his brother and ran his fingers over the uneven edges.

"I miss Mama." Torin played with the hem of his shirt, his face downcast.

"We'll see her again, someday," Mem joined in.

"When?" Torin wanted to know.

"Whenever the Master wants you home," she replied.

That answer seemed to satisfy him, because he scampered down the shore to find more creatures.

Stefan drifted into other thoughts, and was so lost that he didn't hear Mem talking to him. "Stefan, are you in there?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes, sorry Mem."

"What's going on in that blond head of yours?" she asked. Stefan noticed that when she was concerned, her Tisidoni brogue was more obvious than usual.

"Nothing," he lied.

"Now, don't tell me that," she chided laughingly. "I know you."

"Well... it's just that... I miss Mother being around, and I thought... I mean, I wondered if... maybe we could have a new mother."

Mem was silent for so long that Stefan wondered if he'd said something wrong. "I think that would be up to your father, Stefan," she answered. "But I know how much you miss her. Perhaps one day, if your da remarries."

They were both quiet until Torin raced toward them, chasing seagulls and laughing. Mem stood. "Alright, you two, time to head back. Lots to do."

"Mem, can we go to the docks for a little while?" Stefan pleaded. He had something important he wanted to do there.