Sterling stared at his wagon. He sat around a campfire with the other members of the caravan, eating a breakfast of wild berries and stew. He could scarce pay attention to the troupe's jibes at one another or the occasional arguments that broke out among them. Elise occupied his mind. He hadn't awoken his guest this morning.

Reality would find her soon enough. He hadn't told the others about Elise. Sterling wasn't by nature free with his words or open with his emotions. It had been that way with him since the age of sixteen... since he'd lost his parents and learned the horrible truth about his lineage. Worse things existed than having an uncaring uncle who would sell a family member for gain... far worse things.

Mora had settled next to Sterling and now lifted a lock of his hair. "You are brooding this morning, my prince. You need a woman to take away the tension I feel coming from your body. A woman who knows how to please a man."

"He's a snake you'll never charm, Mora," Sarah Dobbs, also known as Lady Fortune when she performed, teased. "Our Beast Tamer has all the parts to please a woman, but no desire to do so. A bloody waste of nice equipment."

Her husband, Tom, a sour-looking fellow who seldom bathed or shaved, cast his wife a dirty look across the fire. "I got enough parts to keep ya happy, woman, so don't be looking elsewhere."

"Wouldn't mind his parts so much if he bothered to wash 'em once in a while," the woman muttered.

"Too much bathing ain't good for a body," her husband declared. "Ain't that so, Philip?"

Philip was often called upon to settle disputes among the troupe members. He was the leader of the ragtag group. Wagons and animals alike belonged to Philip. He collected all money from the performances and kept accounts of who earned what. Sterling supposed Philip was as close to a father figure as he would ever have, since his own had chosen to take his life rather than face his curse.

Sterling's mother had quickly followed upon his father's heels, but it was shock that probably killed her. Shock at what she had married, shock over what she had spawned from her marriage. Four sons. All of them cursed.

Sterling tugged his hair from Mora's grasp as the door to his wagon creaked open. Elise stepped outside. To say that the troupe members fell silent was an understatement. If not for the restless sounds of the animals, a person could have heard a bee pass wind.

"Who the bloody 'ell is that?" Sarah breathed.

Sterling almost smiled. "You can see into the future, Sarah," he drawled dryly. "You should already know."

In response, she frowned, then grumbled, "I tell people what they want to hear, which is seldom the truth."

Since Elise appeared as if she might turn and flee, Sterling set his plate aside and rose. "Come, Elise," he ordered, holding out a hand to her. "Meet my friends."

His friends were the oddest group of humanity Elise had ever seen gathered in one place. There was a sturdy older man with a noticeable hump upon his back. A dark-haired woman with kohl around her eyes and a snake wrapped around her neck - which was less frightening than the way the woman glared at her. A couple joined the group. Both stopped to gape at Elise, of which she did in kind. They were little people.

"Elise!" Sterling called. He still stood with his hand held out to her. "Come."

Elise swallowed the lump in her throat and joined him next to the campfire. Whatever simmered in a pot over the fire smelled wonderful.

"You must be hungry," he said. "Sit. Eat."

"Wait a moment. Who the hell is she?"

The man who owned the same booming voice Elise had heard through the mist the previous night asked the question. He wore the wildest ensemble she had ever seen. His waistcoat was bright pink, his tights, striped yellow and green. His red slippers turned up at the toes. A dark purple birthmark covered half of his face.

"Philip... and all," Sterling added, "this is Elise. Elise, this is... well, everyone."

"Where'd she come from? And what's she doing here?" a woman asked, one who, Elise noted with relief, looked perfectly normal.

"Elise is from London," Sterling provided. "She'll be staying for a while... with me."

More than one brow rose. Elise supposed she might be blushing. He made their arrangement sound far more intimate than it was... or at least than she intended for it to be. She cast Sterling a dark glance.

"She's fair," the man with the birthmark commented. "I can see where you were tempted to let this one stay, but I am the leader of this troupe. I decide who travels with us and who doesn't. The woman looks like trouble, and we all get enough of that without courting it."

A murmur of agreement followed.

"Seen her ilk before," the woman who appeared normal snorted. "You've brought a Miss Nancy among us, Sterling. Her kind don't belong here."

Elise had packed clothing she considered the least conspicuous of her station, but even so, her morning frock was far grander than the apparel those around her wore. Like Sterling with his handsome looks and perfect form, she stood out among these people.

"I-I will earn my way," she stuttered. "I'm not afraid of hard work."

The dark woman who sat on the other side of Sterling reached across him and grabbed Elise's hands. "This lily-white skin knows nothing of labor," she spat. "You do not belong here. Go back to where you came from!"

"Mora," Sterling cautioned, "where she belongs is not your decision to make."

Elise wrestled her hands from Mora's grasp, but couldn't avoid the resentment glaring at her from the woman's dark eyes. Mora. Elise had heard the name before. She recalled where and the circumstances. Now she understood the woman's dislike of her. Mora was the woman Sterling had expected to find in his bed the previous night.

"Mora has an itch for our Beast Tamer," a man who needed a shave, and a bath, by the smell that radiated from him, informed Elise. "She won't like it that he'll be scratching elsewhere."

"Watch your vulgar tongue, Tom," the little woman finally spoke. She nodded to a wagon where a young girl had exited, moving toward them. "I'm trying to raise a decent daughter, not an easy chore among the likes of you."

The girl captured Elise's attention. She would have expected that if two small people had a child together, the child would be the same as the parents. That was not the case. The girl appeared to be around the age of twelve, and she already towered above her mother and father.

"Elise has expressed a desire to take Marguerite's former position," Sterling said. "I thought she would do. Don't you agree, Philip?"

Elise's attention returned to the group. Philip's gaze ran the length of her. "She will do," he admitted. "And do nicely, if she can be taught - "

"I will teach her," Sterling interrupted. "If she is my responsibility, and she earns her keep, what harm is there in allowing her to stay?"

"Who is she?"

The child had reached the group and asked the question. Elise stared into the girl's curious blue eyes and smiled.

"Dawn, this is Elise," Sterling said.

Elise would have given a polite hello, but the man with the birthmark spoke.

"Elise is our newest performer."

Performer? Sterling had said nothing about her performing. She had assumed she would earn her way by doing menial tasks.

"What does she do?" the girl asked.

Curious to hear the answer, Elise glanced at Sterling.

"Elise will perform the veil dance," he answered.

Dawn's face darkened a shade. "Oh," she said softly, then turned and headed toward her parents' wagon.

"I had hoped we would be rid of that bit of indecency," the mother complained, then went after the child. The father followed the mother.

"Indecency?" Elise mumbled. She leaned toward Sterling and whispered, "What exactly is a veil dance?"

She enjoyed, for a brief moment, the scent of him, the same one that clung to the bedding upon his cot.

"It is a belly dance," Mora answered. "Like the concubines do to arouse the passions of the sultans in the harems of the East."

Elise felt certain her mouth dropped open. Sterling smiled.

"Could I have a word with you?" Elise narrowed her gaze upon him. "In private."