The next morning Rose awoke to the sound of hushed voices talking frantically. It sounded like arguing. She did her best to focus on the words being spoken.

"... want to talk to her," one voice said.

"She is very ill, she needs to rest," another one responded. Rose groaned quietly and forced her eyes open. Light was streaming in from the windows, temporarily stunning her. Immediately pain made itself known to Rose. Her stomach burned and her throat felt swollen. She closed her eyes momentarily, hoping for a respite from the pain and illness. When she opened them again she turned her head and looked out into the room. Two pairs of eyes stared back at her.

She blinked a few times, clearing her bleary eyes, and focused on the people. Her mind, hazy from sleep, took a moment to realize who the people were. One was Brianne, who stood by the door studying Rose with her alert eyes. Next to her, just outside the door, someone poked their head inside. Rose smiled a little. It was Prince Tristan. His eyes were wide – anxious and hopeful as he looked at her.

"Please may I enter?" She heard him murmur to Brianne. Brianne curtsied and stepped aside despite looking somewhat frustrated. She walked further inside and disappeared around a corner. Prince Tristan entered and sat on the stall by Rose's bed. He smiled at her and clasped his hands together.

"Rose, how are you feeling?" He asked her. Rose sat up a little and tried to prop her pillow up higher.

"As well as I can be," Rose told him. She frowned as she listened to her own voice. It was raspy and uneven. Concern flickered on Prince Tristan's face but he masked it hastily. "Well, truly, I am not so well," Rose finally admitted. A smile quirked up on one side of his mouth.

"You will be well, you will," he told her firmly. Rose looked away, wishing she possessed the same confidence that he did.

"How are you?" She eventually asked him, changing the topic.

"I am fine, not a scratch on me." Rose sighed and closed her eyes.

"That is good, my lord." She did not say anything else and kept her eyes closed. She felt unbearably weak and exhausted, even though she had just been asleep. Fear and desperation crept up on her. If she did not start improving soon then it was unlikely she would ever recover. Once an infection had a firm clutch on someone they were near impossible to remove.

"What is wrong?" Price Tristan asked when Rose said nothing else. She opened her eyes and peered through a pool of tears.

"I am sure you know my wounds are infected, Your Highness," she said with a sniff. "I am under no misconceptions about the danger of infections... I could die. I don't want to die," a few tears slipped down her cheeks. Prince Tristan moved closer to her but he did not touch her.

"You will not die, I forbid you to." A small, choked up giggle escaped Rose at his words and he smiled, though she could see sadness in his warm eyes. "Just think about all the things you have to live for and you will find the strength to beat this."

"There is nothing for me to live for," Rose responded bitterly.

"Do not say that," Prince Tristan pleaded. "You have to live for... Mistress Eudora," he said suddenly. Rose smiled softly – she was fond of Mistress Eudora and the fellow servants who worked with her. "She feels awful enough already," the Prince continued. "And you have to live for my sister, Susanna. She likes you, she was telling me just the other day. Even Emily likes you – I dare say you have charmed everyone in the castle. You have friends here; you have to live for them. Live for me." Rose stared at him with a deadpan expression. Prince Tristan erupted into laughter at her blank face. "After all," the Prince continued, "who else would refuse to bow to me on a daily basis? It would be simply dull to have everyone do what they were told. I would grow far too spoiled." Rose smiled again as he spoke. He was in jest, but it cheered her up.

"I am glad you came, my lord. I was awfully bored and lonely by myself yesterday, all I could do was stare at the ceiling."

"I am glad I came, too. I was anxious to know how you were faring. You were so pale yesterday, but you have some of your colour back now," he told her.

"At least that is one piece of good news," Rose murmured, moving her gaze to outside the window. Prince Tristan reached out and held her arm gently. She did not pull away from him as she once might have.

"Promise me you will do all you can to fight this." His expression was so intense, his eyes so piercing, Rose found herself unable to look away.

"I promise," she finally mumbled. He released her arm and folded his hands back together as he stared out the window. Rose studied him for a moment.

All those years she had been certain the Prince was an awful man and certain that he had no heart. Yet, here he was, talking to her – a lowly servant girl – trying to cheer her up. Her thoughts flickered to the memory of him jumping in front of the wolf. Something in her heart told Rose that he would have been willing to die trying to save her. The thought was ridiculous – nobility sacrificing themselves for servants, but somehow she knew it was true.

"I owe you my life," Rose whispered. The Prince moved his gaze from the window to her face. He did not say anything but fixed her with another intense stare. "You... you jumped in front of the wolf. For me. You could have died but you did it anyway."

"I would have tried to save you no matter how many creatures were against me," he murmured. Her heart stammered in her chest as she looked up at him, his eyes revealed honesty and vulnerability.

"I think... I think I was wrong about you." Rose was surprised to find how hard it was for her to admit the words. Yet, how right it felt acknowledging the truth.

"What do you mean?"

"All those years... I thought you were an awful person with no heart. I was so angry with you. I treated you so disrespectfully but you let me continue without punishment. But then you risked yourself for me – only a servant – and I saw a different side of you. My lord, I was wrong about you. Perhaps it is true that you are not the man I thought you were." The beam that broke out on his face stole her breath away. He was radiant as he listened to her words, but it was short-lived. His face fell after a moment, his expression tortured and guilty.

"You are very kind, but you must not feel ashamed for thinking badly of me. I still did all those things you accused me of. I did not do anything to help the poor or homeless. I acted without thinking of the repercussions. I manipulated people and used my power for wrong. I did not try to help Beth... I was that person you thought I was." The Prince did not meet her eyes as he spoke, instead he stared down at the ground in shame.

"But you are not that person anymore," Rose whispered, closing her eyes again. She felt as though she had lost all muscle strength, all she could do was lay there completely still. Rose pushed through the fatigue and opened her eyes to look at him again. "Why? What made you change?" The Prince smiled and turned his head to the side.

"Perhaps one day I shall tell you the reasons for many of my decisions."

"You will not share with me now?"

"No," he responded, tapping his chin with his finger. "Consider it... motivation. Another reason to live."

"Very well, my lord," Rose finally answered. She could hardly argue with the Prince – not now, after everything he had done for her. The Prince frowned, his brown eyes clouded over as if he was thinking deeply about something. "Are you well, Your Highness?" She asked after a minute. He blinked and snapped his attention back to her.

"Tristan."

"Pardon me?" Rose responded, confused.

"When we are together you may call me Tristan." Her mouth dropped open at his words. "Only when there are not prying ears around," he warned her. "There are some who would disprove of such a familiar term."

"My lord, I cannot. It is not proper," Rose stated a moment after. She felt in shock – such a request from nobility was unheard of. First Suzanna and now the Prince – were the members of the royal family losing their minds? The Prince smiled softly and stood up, as if preparing to go.

"It was not a command, Rose. Simply permission, should you wish it."

"But... why?" She asked him before he turned around to leave. The Prince stared at her. Vulnerability flickered on his face again, but he masked it quickly.

"I was never royalty in your eyes, surely you do not disagree. And no matter how frustrated I was with your refusals of respect, you were right all along. I need to improve. To you, I am merely Tristan."

"Thank you, my lord." Rose was humbled and awed by his words. He nodded, as if he had not just made a huge decision.

"I will leave you now. You need to rest and Brianne will be angered if I keep you awake." He turned and began walking to the door.

"Wait!" Rose called. The Prince turned to look over his shoulder curiously.

"Thank you... thank you for everything. And I want you to know that... that I forgive you." He did not have to ask to know that she was grateful he had saved her life, or grateful that he did not view her as just a servant. He had taken her from the streets and saved her from the wolf. He had given her a chance at life, and though she had originally been ungrateful, she knew now that she would not waste her second chance.

Her heart still broke when she thought of Beth, but as she looked at the Prince she knew she could not hold her anger against him. A weight lifted off her as she reached a point of forgiveness. All along she had known that God was the forgiver and would want her to forgive too, but she had never been able to. She had wanted to hold on to her anger and make the Prince suffer. It had taken her nearly getting killed to see that Prince Tristan did have goodness in him. Although she was hurt, her heart told her that she had forgiven him for the past. The Prince smiled and bowed his head slightly.

"I thank you. You do not know what your words mean to me. Farewell, Rose, I will be praying for you." He left the room without another word. Rose stared at the ceiling as her heart pounded away and a faint blush warmed her cheeks. She could not stop herself reliving their conversation – the way he had begged her to keep fighting, the way he had admitted to his past mistakes, the way he had said she could call him Tristan. Rose closed her eyes, a smile on her face, as she drifted back to sleep with thoughts of the Prince floating on her mind.

That afternoon, Brianne came to check Rose's wounds once again. She worked silently as she unwrapped the bandages. Rose did not look down, too afraid to see the condition of the wounds. Brianne was quiet for a moment as she examined each area of concern. Her head popped up into Rose's vision suddenly. Her face was, as usual, masked so as not to show any hint of emotion. Brianne blinked, and the mask abruptly faded into serenity.

"They look as though they are improving. I can hardly believe it myself," Brianne told Rose, looking genuinely surprised. Rose's mouth dropped open for the second time that day. She could not fathom it – could it be true that she was successfully combating the infection?

Rose peered down at her stomach. The wounds still oozed, still had pus and seemed inflamed. The only evidence of healing was the reduced redness of her skin. She did not feel as though she looked altogether improved, but she did not want to argue with the healer. She wanted to believe Brianne and believe for herself that she would be okay.

"It is too early to tell if this improvement will last, but take it as a good sign, Rose. There are many who never live to see any sign of recovery in an infection."

Brianne continued with her routine of cleaning the wounds and applying her concoction of herbs. Rose turned her head to stare out the window while the healer worked. I will get better. I will, I will, I will, she told herself over and over again. By the time Brianne had finished, Rose found it impossible to think otherwise.

~

Prince Tristan strode through the halls of the castle, sweating from his sword practice and eager to clean himself. His footsteps echoed around him as he walked. His thoughts inadvertently drifted to Rose and his conversation with her. Father would be furious to know he had given leave for Rose to call him by his first name. Tristan frowned – perhaps he had not done the right thing. Rose was right to say it would be improper.

Yet, as he thought it over, he could not make himself believe that it was the wrong thing to do. The servant girl was the only person he had ever met who was not afraid to break the social barriers, regardless of the consequences. Was she not the most worthy of all to see him only as Tristan, as a normal man? Gah. What am I saying? If word spread that a servant girl and the Prince were talking, with or without first names, the rumours would be horrendous. Father would be murderous. It was not proper for the nobility and servants to share in friendship.

Tristan knew it would be best to put behind any communication with the girl – both for his reputation and her protection. He should not visit her again, he had to remember that she was only a servant girl – regardless of how she tended to treat him. But as he told himself to stay away, he could not help wanting to ignore the thoughts. She had forgiven him! Tristan had felt jubilant all day. He had hardly dared to dream of the day that Rose might forgive him.

"Tristan!" A voice broke him out of his thoughts. Tristan whipped his head around to see Suzanna trying to catch up with him. He stopped walking and waited for her to reach him. She smiled up at him as she approached his side.

"Good afternoon, Suzanna. How are you faring?" He asked her as they began strolling down the hallway.

"Very well! Although I am afraid I am in need of a new maidservant. Brigitte is with child and asked me for permission to leave her position so that she may marry a farmer. I said yes, of course. I could hardly forbid one from being joined with their love. Although now I haven't a clue what I should do. She was such a good maidservant. Truly, I regarded her as a dear friend. I am certain Mistress Eudora will not have difficulty finding a new lady in waiting for me, but I shall miss Brigitte." Tristan listened as Suzanna babbled away. She had always been a very talkative person. He had learned over the years to be patient with her whenever she talked too much, growing annoyed would only upset her.

"Do not worry, Suzy, I am sure you will become equally good friends with your new servant," Tristan told her.

"I suppose I shall. You know, I was secretly hoping that perhaps that kind girl, Rose, would take the position. She served me only a few days ago, you remember, and she seemed very sweet." Tristan remembered. Suzanna had spoken fondly of Rose before, on more than one occasion. It seemed as though Rose managed to impress every person she met. "Although I have not seen her since that night. I hope she has not left her position in the castle. It seems unlikely – this place must be wonderful to someone who was a beggar. She was sad that night, though. It was my fault mostly, but I do not wish to speak of that. Mistress Eudora likes Rose a lot too, but I am sure she would let me take her as my maidservant if I asked." Tristan did his best to keep up with Suzanna's stream of conversation.

"You know Mistress Eudora will do what you ask," Tristan reminded her.

"You are right, of course. But sometimes I find it is rather nice to give the servants options – it must be hard always being told what to do by the nobility. It does not matter though. Yes, I am nearly certain of it after talking with you. I should like Rose to be my new maidservant. She is far too pretty to be a mere kitchen hand anyway. I shall seek out Mistress Eudora immediately," Suzanna decided. "I thank you, Tristan, you are such a good listener and always so useful with your advice. You never fail to help me clear my head," she said with a smile. Tristan felt as if he had hardly spoken a word, but he smiled back at her nonetheless.

"You are welcome. You should know, though, that Rose is currently with Brianne. She is not well. You will have to wait for her to recover."

"With Brianne? Why, whatever happened? She seemed very well when she served me, if not just a little emotional. You do not think it is a severe sickness, do you? How awful if the kingdom was to suffer another plague."

"No, it is not a sickness. She was injured by a wolf attack. The wounds are infected." Tristan did his best to sound nonchalant. He was not sure how Suzanna would react to know that he had been checking up on the girl. Suzanna raised her eyebrows, looking surprised and concerned.

"Oh, but how unfortunate. Life just is not fair – such a sweet person. She is the last woman I can think of who deserves to be attacked by a wolf." Tristan could not stop a smile quirking up on his mouth at her words. Suzanna was no doubt thinking of the countless noble women she had met who Suzanna said had seemed 'less than fit' to be in their position. "I am sure there is no need to fear. She must be a strong fighter if she was able to survive all those years alone and begging on the streets. I am positive she shall defeat the infection and will be back working soon! I shall wait for her until then. But Tristan, however did you know all of this? It is not like you to pay attention to the whereabouts of the servants." She said the words with a kind expression, but her words still struck him with guilt. Had he truly built up such a reputation of uncaring behaviour? He cleared his throat nervously. Suzanna was not known to be judgemental, but there were many people who would scold him for risking his life to save a servant.

"I know this because I saved her from the wolf. I took her to Brianne's and I have been asking how she is faring." Suzanna's eyebrows shot up high at his words.

"You rescued her from the wolf? No. No I do not believe you, you are in jest," she said.

"I would not jest about such a topic," Tristan responded firmly, frowning again.

"Forgive me, I did not intend to offend you. You must tell me everything."

Tristan proceeded to recount the story of how he had run after Rose and encountered the wolf. Suzanna was enraptured, her eyes wide, gasping every now and then. When he had finished, Suzanna was quiet - Tristan could hardly believe his ears. The shock was short-lived, however, as she was quick to decide what to say.

"How brave and selfless you were! Rose must be so grateful. To think that you were willing to risk your life for her... I am sure she will be willing to bow to you now," Suzanna giggled. Tristan snorted at her words and rolled his eyes. He decided not to share Rose's decision of forgiveness with his sister.

"Suzanna, you must not tell anyone about this. I do not wish to be scolded for placing her life above mine. Not everyone will be as supportive as you are," Tristan warned. Suzanna nodded seriously.

"Of course, I will not tell a soul, you have my word." They stopped by the door to Suzanna's bedchamber. She had a soft smile on her expression, as if she had a secret thought that she was not willing to share.

"What?" Tristan asked her, curious.

"Nothing, dear brother."

"No, you are hiding a thought from me and I wish to know what it is."

"Nay, it is nothing. A lady has many fleeting thoughts that she does not share." Suzanna had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she opened the door to her chambers. Tristan stared at her, unwavering.

"Tell me." Suzanna chuckled briefly, hesitantly.

"You will think I am rather silly, but I was merely thinking about how things would be different if Rose was not just a servant. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters I must attend to. Farewell." With that, Suzanna dashed inside her chambers and closed the door hurriedly. Tristan stood in the same place, staring at the door with confusion. He shrugged and pushed the confusion away. Suzanna would elaborate on what she meant if she wanted to.

"Farewell," he called through her door. He turned and continued down the hall to his room.