Franny watched as Rose went up the road. Andrew soon joined her with the princesses’ boots. She took one pair and they walked together. Franny watched as Rose disappeared around the bend, chatting amiably with Andrew, but couldn’t help wondering where she had come from. How long might she stay? Would she disappear the way some of the others had? Or at least Franny suspected those others were that kind, as she thought of them. If Rose was that kind, was she in danger in that other world? And why had she come here? All these were thoughts she should not be having, but she could not help it. Her mum and da would be furious. She just prayed Rose would not do anything foolish.

“So you say you just arrived, Rose?” Andrew asked.

“Yes, just a bit ago?” She tried not to stare, but he did bear a resemblance to Jamie from the Hunter Valley Riding Academy. His hair was black and tousled, and he had that ruddy look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. But he looked somewhat older than Jamie, closer to seventeen. Or, if you took in the elapsed centuries, almost five hundred and seventeen years old. And he had a similar way of walking. Long rhythmic stride. Even with her own long legs she had to press to keep up with him.

“And what do you do?” Rose asked. “You’re in the stables.”

“My father is the horse master of Hatfield, but we are short staffed here. So I work in the saddlery, and I tend the kennels as well.”

“The dogs! That must be fun.”

“Fun?” He cocked his head and looked at her. “Yes, I suppose so. Not as demanding as tending princesses, perhaps.” He gave a nod to the palace. “We don’t have a full kennel here. Just fifteen dogs.”

“That’s not full?”

“Oh no. The king’s estates have the full complement of hunting dogs. At least one hundred. Three divisions: foxhounds, buckhounds, and otterhounds.”

“My” was all Rose could say. She had no idea what he was talking about, but Andrew seemed nice enough. She looked at him more closely. He was one of those boys on the brink of being handsome. But his nose took a wiggle at the halfway mark that gave him a somewhat quirky look.

“Oh, sorry,” he said suddenly.

“Sorry for what?”

“I tend to walk too fast. I don’t know. It’s like sometimes a fast jig is playing in my head. I like to dance.” He laughed. “But you keep up.”

“Well, I try.”

“Long legs, I guess. Like a colt.” He suddenly blushed furiously. “Sorry again. Did not mean to compare you to a horse.”

“No prob. I mean, no problem.”

Then Mrs. Belson came rushing across the kitchen yard flailing her arms while kicking a chicken out of her way.

“Rose! Get upstairs fast as you can.”

“The princess’s chambers?”