Fay Tale - Chapter One

Part One

Bremen yawned then stretched his paws back as far as they would go over his head. He wiggled this way and waggled that way until he was settled comfortably on his back right in the middle of the beam of sunlight. The tip of his chocolate tail twitched with sleepy satisfaction. He had found the best napping spot in the entire kingdom.

Providing, of course, someone didn’t try to sit on him.

His large ears rotated slightly, testing the sounds in the room. Not so much as a mouse. Satisfied he curled his toes and yawned again. Whatever King Rupert the IX had put into the cushion of his royal throne was exquisitely comfortable. Not too firm but not soft enough so that a cat might suffocate himself by accident. The cushion was imperative to making it such a coveted napping spot but the true genius of his position was the eternal sunbeam.

One of Rupert’s ancestors had decided to shore up a rather shaky claim to the throne by claiming he was chosen by the celestial gods. To that effect he’d had a series of mirrors and mechanical apparatus installed in the throne room so that his throne was lit by perpetual light. Apparently god-chosen all insisted on being blinded while they ruled their kingdom. Unfortunately for that ancestor, the royal machinist had let slip his little secret and when the nobles were done with the royal ancestor both the throne and the cushion had needed replacing.

Just goes to show nobles are spoilsports, Bremen thought lazily.

He dozed on the throne for a time before his ears started to twitch. Little squeaks mixed with wing noises. Bat. He sighed and moments later a fruit bat swooped down to perch to the back of the throne.

His Majesty wishes your presence at the meeting.

The cat snored loudly.

Bremen, I can hear your heartbeat. I know that you are awake, the bat replied with obvious amusement.

In reply the cat rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into the cushion and lifting his rear towards the bat rudely. Not to be discouraged, the bat dropped down and grabbed the uplifted tail. He flapped hard and pulled. Bremen mewed pathetically and sank his claws into the cushion, refusing to move. The bat pulled a few more times then released the tail in defeat. He flapped in a wide circle over the cat, considering his options, then suddenly left the way he’d come in.

Bremen poked his head up over the arm of the chair, hoping that for once the incorrigible prince might have left him alone. He had just started to drift back to sleep when his head shot up once more at the sound of a young voice in the outside hallway.

“Angel wait for me! You’re too fast!”

The small side door was shoved open and out flapped the bat once more, this time followed by a little girl in a fine blue tunic with bronze leggings.

The bat flapped around the throne once more and smiled to see it had now been vacated. No sign that a cat had ever been there except for a few brown and cream hairs on the royal cushion.

The child came to a halt beside the throne, peering onto the cushion then got down on her knees to check under the throne.

“I can’t find him!”

It’s fine, Liliana, thank you.

“But I wanted to play with Bremen.” The child started to pout.

I’m sorry you’re disappointed. Would you like to come find Seris with me instead?

“Yes! I want him to play with me!”

I’m sure he will.

The bat swooped low, affectionately ruffling the blonde curls with the wind of his passing. She giggled then dashed after the bat.

~~~ 

The king of Eirendyr first noticed Bremen’s arrival by a flicker of movement near the floor. A quick leap from there to the chair and the cat was sitting next to him looking around at the rest gathered at the table. Seeing nobody of particular interest or amusement, the cat sighed and rested his chin on the table.

“It is good of you to join us, Bremen,” the older man said, his tone heavy with irony.

“I didn’t want to,” the cat grumbled, giving his short coat a comforting lick. “I’m only here because you don’t play fair.”

“I merely sent a messenger to alert you to the necessity of your presence at this meeting.”

“You sent Angelis. You know he never gives up. He even brought Lily and chased me away from my napping spot! I was caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“Scylla would be quick to object to your use of such an example over so trivial a matter as a napping spot.”

“Scylla is always grumpy because she doesn’t get enough to eat.”

“Shall I remedy that inequity by feeding you to her?”

“She wouldn’t want me. Too skinny.”

The king grunted in agreement then turned sharp blue eyes back to the rest of the table. Bremen took that as an invitation to close his eyes and try to nap again. The king overlooked his obvious inattention and gestured for quiet. The room, which had buzzed with conversation, fell completely silent.

“The Royal Advisory Engineer may begin,” the king said with a slight inclination of his head toward a dwarf sitting at the end of the table.

Short even by the standards of his own race, the Royal Advisory Engineer needed to climb a ladder to reach his seat, elevated so that all at the table could see him. The dwarf cleared his throat, pulled at a few dark bristles at his chin, and finally unrolled his scroll.

“Your Majesty King Aarav Anand and all Royal Advisors, Counselors, Attendants, etc.”

“He forgot to mention the royal cat,” Bremen whispered in a voice so soft none but Anand could hear. The king ignored him.

“It is with great honor that I,” the dwarf continued, “Regimus Pendletitous Maxmilliman Rotund the 4th present to you the enemy plans for the fortifications and boundary wall between your two kingdoms.” He flipped the scroll down the table with a dramatic flourish, and it settled neatly into place before all assembled. Unfortunately, the notecards which he had written for his presentation before the king also went flying. The dwarf’s skin turned a murky grey, and he froze with a look of absolute horror on his face. Dwarves tended to turn to stone when startled or embarrassed.

Bremen took advantage of the awkward silence to leap into the air and pin one of the cards down to the table with a satisfying smack. By the time the rest of the table had compiled the cards in numerical order—dwarves are very organized creatures—the grey color had disappeared from Regimus’s skin, and he could now flex his fingers.

“S-so sorry Your Majesty, Royal Advisors, Counselors, Attendants–”

“And the Royal Cat!” Bremen announced with perfect clarity even as he carried the remaining note card in his mouth. He sauntered across the table, placing the card with exacting neatness on top of the pile already collected, then sauntered back to his seat.

The dwarf started turning a little grey.

“You may begin anew when you are ready, Royal Advisory Engineer.”

The king’s even tone reassured the floundering dwarf. He peered down the table at the monarch and was even more encouraged when to see no sign of amusement or impatience on the royal visage. He, Regimus Pendletitous Maxmilliman Rotund the 4th, would not bring dishonor to his clan before this king! Gripping the notecards with deathly urgency, he began to detail the new enemy fortification.

While the dwarf was embedded in his cards, Anand took a moment to send a look of disapproval down at Bremen. The cat flicked his tail saucily in response.

If you didn’t want me to make a scene you shouldn’t have forced me to come, it seemed to say.

The king’s blue eyes turned icy.

Behave.

Bremen rested his head back on the table and closed his eyes again, effectively cutting off all other means of communication short of pulling his tail.

The king was tempted.

Instead, he focused his energy on interpreting all the numbers the dwarf continued to rattle off as the rest of his counselors’ eyes glazed over. While the king was thus engaged, Bremen tucked his slender paws under his chin and went back to sleep.

Part Two

Outside the castle an entirely different sort of cacophony was occurring. The roads connecting Eirendyr’s capital with her towns and villages were full of travelers. Most of which were trying to enter the bustling city of Endyr. Heavy wagons full of goods to sell and trade took up a large portion of the main road while those who road or walked contented themselves with edges of it. It was tight quarters even with the wide roads, newly cobbled with stone that would not turn to muck and mire when the rains and snow came.

Humans were the largest group which packed the roads toward Endyr but there were also shape-shifters pulling their own wagons and minotaurs with battle-axes slung across shoulders. The hawk peoples soaring lazily overhead to the envy of all upon the hot and crowded road. There was even one of the amphibious folk sitting among the criers who lined the road, directing the traffic toward specific gates around the city. Most travelers gave the amphibian a wide berth, not out of fear or dislike, but because of his powerful, bellowing lungs which nearly deafened whoever ventured too near his little awning.

Only one other spot on the densely packed road was similarly deserted and that around a traveler who kept to the edge of the roadway. Standing over eight spans tall, he towered over most of the populace. Only the great draft horses that plodded up and down the roads with their burdens even approached his height, and even then he’d need to simply lift a leg to straddle one their backs. Not that he would have wanted to. Every time one of them got near him even the most even-tempered of beasts snapped in his direction. Goats eyed him with evil intent. Dogs traveling with their masters drifted over to growl at him. Even the chickens clucked disapprovingly.

Travelers traded uneasy glances as he trudged past. Ogre.

This particular specimen wore the hood of his cloak up even under the hot sun, but the dark green skin of his hands and the bone-handled sword on his hip warned all who saw what he truly was. Most ogres traveled in mercenary hordes. Hiring themselves to whichever king or lord needed their services. If no war was readily available, they were more than inclined to start one themselves. Eirendyr had been at peace for almost a decade, but the travelers began to wonder if the creature’s presence indicated the end of that.

The ogre himself seemed oblivious to the buzz of uneasiness that followed his progress up the road. Only the watchful eyes which roamed under his hood proved his readiness to take action if any of his fellow travelers decided to strike out against a lone ogre, far from the protection of his horde.

So far, however, Eirendyr’s promise to welcome all magical creatures stood firm. From the lack of death spells and spears to the little pot of water available for the amphibious crier to keep his skin damp made the ogre hope his stubborn faith would be rewarded.

Come one come all to Eirendyr, he thought as he trudged along.

Rumors of the little kingdom opening its doors to the unwanted magical periphery had spread from Grand Colc to Eirfayen. In most places being magical meant you had to hide or practice your trade in secret. Even the shapeshifters had to be careful for a simple suspicion whispered in the right ear could lead to a short trip to the bottom of the nearest river. Only the Fay with their cities Under the Hill were free from the general oppression the Folk suffered on the surface, and they felt little inclination to provide shelter to the ‘peasants’ who made up the rest of the magical populace.

Probably why so many of us are desperate enough to follow rumors like this, the ogre mused grumpily.

As long they had something to trade be it food, clothing, trinkets, or services anyone was welcome in the city.

The ogre touched the blade at his hip with subconscious unease. He had a trade all right, but he was hoping for something a little less...bloody. In a city this size there were surely jobs no one else wanted. Maybe there was a merchant or captain who could use the prodigiously famous strength of an ogre.

He hid a bitter smile in the hood of his cloak then turned his attention ahead as the road forked. The great wagons which carried everything from fuel to heavy food-goods rumbled down one. They would be taken through the nearest gate, which led right past the markets to the dockyards. Everyone else proceeded down the second and felt immediate relief from the extra room on the road. Soon another large fork came up and those with livestock and small carts turned to follow that, leaving only those who had nothing to sell but their labor to continue onwards. The smaller fork continued on around the city wall and eventually to a series of large pavilions set close against the stone.

Criers stood at the edge of the road chivvying, or in the ogre’s case politely directing, the travelers under the pavilions where they were to stand in line and wait for their turn to be identified then admitted into the city. The ogre made his way toward the pavilion at the far end and was relieved to find not only could he stand up straight but that it was also noticeably cooler under the canvas covering. He’d expected the cramped quarters to be smelly and stifling but there was a breeze flowing through the pavilion. Given his height advantage he could see a series of machines stationed at regular intervals along the line which seemed to push the air through the pavilion. They vaguely reminded him of waterwheels though instead of moving through water the large blades paddled at the open air.

Dwarven work, he thought to himself, appreciating more than ever the little folk well-known for their ingenious machinery.

It seemed to be powered by yet another wheel, this one without blades but made of solid wood, and turned by a pair of brownies who ran inside it.

The ogre frowned. Did welcoming the Folk entail making them slaves? But as he continued to stand in line, he observed that the little brownies were regularly replaced by other pairs. Each shift seemed to cover most of a candlemark. Just long enough to tire the sturdy little creatures but not enough to exhaust them. The breeze in the pavilion would die down as the groups switched then start anew as little legs started to run furiously. The longer he watched the more dizzy the ogre’s head became as the wheel turned swiftly underneath the tiny feet. He switched his gaze as the latest spelled pair chittered to each other then disappeared between the leaves of a thick hedge which bordered the pavilions.

The ogre peered at the plants curiously. Those were magic and no denying it. He got his special don’t-touch-the-dangerous-things feeling whenever he looked at them. They were planted between the pavilions and were thick enough so that you couldn’t really see from one pavilion into another and tall enough so that even he couldn’t see over them. They looked exactly like normal hedges. Almost too normal. And whenever something was trying to look normal, the ogre knew, that meant it almost certainly wasn’t.

He kept a wary eye on the hedges all the way to the front of the line where he was confronted by a particularly leafy one. Before he could begin to wonder or ask questions the hedge suddenly parted and a human stepped in front of him, wearing one of the famous medallions of the city. This one was made from a practical piece of bronze. The human carried a wooden slate in one hand, a piece of chalk in the other.

“Name. Species. Reason for being in the city,” the human snapped with brisk efficiency. The ogre was impressed with the straightforward tone and responded in kind.

“Maidd. Ogre. Work.”

The copyist began recording the replies on the slate with quick strokes only to hesitate.

“I…did you say maid?”

“Yes. Maidd with two d’s,” the ogre explained politely.

The worker squinted up at him as if wondering whether to take this seriously. Maidd kept his face as inscrutable as possible and eventually the human continued his notations on the slate. When he had finished, the copyist held up an iron token. The ogre took it carefully and examined the metal piece. It had a picture of the city on one side and one of the bushes on the other.

Magical bushes. I knew it.

“Someone will be out momentarily to guide you inside. There you will be asked questions regarding the extent of your stay and reasons for being inside the city. Do not move until you are summoned.”

Then the human presented his own iron token to the hedge which promptly moved aside. Maidd watched as the human disappeared as the hedge promptly snapped back into place.

Maidd waited patiently to be summoned and eventually another human walked out of the hedge, pointed at him, then walked back through without saying a word. The ogre walked up to plant and carefully held out the token. The hedge obediently rustled open, and he slipped quickly through, not trusting it to stay open for long. It’d be just his luck if plants were as irritated by ogres as animals tended to be.

The human was waiting on the other side. Seeing Maidd had crossed successfully, he continued on toward a series of much smaller pavilions and entered into the middle one. Maidd followed obediently though he paused warily when magic brushed his skin.

“A sealing spell for silence,” the human explained when he saw his charge had paused to look around carefully. Maidd doubted that’s all it was, but he didn’t begrudge the capital its defenses so he continued without protest.

Inside the pavilion sat a woman at a large table covered with books and piles of slates. Maidd was pleasantly surprised to see she was Folk. Tawny fur peeped from under voluminous robes from her hands and face. Where her hair should have been was a luxurious mane. Even as he stood there the ogre watched her push it back from her forehead and admired its gold glint from where it gathered at her shoulders. A medallion of the city, this time worked in white gold, hung from her neck.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Even more so was the fact that she had yet to look up at him. This was a new experience for the ogre who was accustomed to drawing the eye of every passersby within sight.

“Uncover your head before Lady Aisha, Royal Judge and Advocate,” the human announced from where he stood next to the table.

Lady? Royal Judge? What did I do to deserve noble reception? Maidd thought, apprehension starting to churn in his stomach as he obediently pushed back his hood to reveal a shock of hair the charming color of blood.

The woman finally looked up, revealing an intriguing mix of feline and human features which Maidd thought very becoming. But what held his attention were her eyes. Violet orbs which seemed to see past, present, and future in an inscrutable mix. He instinctively bowed to her, acknowledging the aura of power he sensed.

“Lady Aisha I am the ogre Maidd. I seek work within the capital city.”

“You may go,” she told the human.

Her voice, though rich, was surprisingly clear without the purrs and twirls of some of the other animal folk he’d met. Her assistant bowed and obediently left the pavilion. Now the ogre felt the full weight of her gaze rest upon him, and he wished he could call the human back.

“You speak truth,” she continued slowly, “when you say you are ogre. Yet it is only a half-truth.”

“Half ogre,” Maidd admitted. “Half other. People are antsy enough around the Folk without remembering that they can breed outside their species.”

He answered calmly, allowing none of the bitterness the truth brought to enter his voice. The woman inclined her head then wrote neatly onto the sheet in front of her.

“Your file says you come here for work. Of what nature?”

“Anything legal,” he said immediately. “Worked as a sellsword mostly, but I’d be satisfied with manual labor.” Her head tilted slightly. Sensing he’d intrigued the ogre continued, “Rumors of your kingdom welcoming the Folk have spread pretty far. Ogres aren’t exactly as magical as they come but there’s not much out there for an ogre who doesn’t enjoy fighting and—” She held up a hand whose nails curved just enough that Maidd was certain they’d actually hurt if they swiped him. He stopped speaking.

“There are openings for brick makers and layers. Also for those carrying heavy burdens in the warehouse district. If you have not found an appropriate position within a week of receiving this token, return to this gate and I will personally find you employment.”

She slid a large copper medallion across the desk toward him, which he carefully picked up and slid around his neck. It fit just a shade too snuggly, but he wasn’t going to complain. Most things didn’t come ogre-sized.

The woman waved a hand and suddenly the side of the pavilion opened. Maidd knew a dismissal when he saw one and bowed his way out of the tent.

Part Three

Inside the castle a small group of servants flocked nervously outside the royal kitchens.

“Has anyone found her yet?” a footman asked anxiously.

“If we had do you think we’d still be running around poking our noses into every crack and crevice?” a maid growled back.

“Where can she be?” a lady-in-waiting wailed. The other servants grimaced, privately thinking of all the servants she ought to know where her missing charge had gone!

“Let’s check her rooms again,” a more sympathetic maid said, wrapping her arms around the disconsolate woman. As she chivvied the unfortunate woman back down the hallway a kitchen boy shook his head.

“Wouldn’t want to be her. That’s the 3rd time this month the little princess has slipped away.” He sounded almost impressed.

“Did you check the attics? Carefully?” the footman insisted, returning to the matter at hand.

“Closer than you count your coin box,” the first maid snapped.

“Fine. Then what about the gardens?”

“We’ve already checked outside. Twice,” a gardener protested.

“Check three times then! It’s beyond my ken how such a noisy child can completely disappear with nothing more than roses to hide in!” the maid insisted then stomped off down the hall.

The rest of the huddle spread once more out through the castle. More servants were recruited to the quiet search, but still no one found any trace of the missing girl. In her rooms the ladies-in-waiting wrung their hands, wailed softly, and wondered how she could have possibly escaped their supervision. They were still in a state of quiet panic when Prince Seris, heir of the kingdom of Eirendyr strolled in.

“Would you please inform my daughter that I am here,” he said with a smile. Normally the dark-haired prince’s arrival would elicit blushes and brilliant smiles as the women fell over themselves to assist him. Today he was greeted with pale faces and awkward silence. “Where is my daughter?” he asked, smile still in place but now a distinct lack of warmth in his tone.

“She’s…she’s not here.”

“I see.” He walked past them toward one of the open tower windows. “When she returns the princess will no longer need your services.” The women blanched further. All three bowed their heads in dismay.

“Yes Prince Seris.”

The prince paused in front of the window.

“I will see that the steward places you elsewhere in the castle.”

Their faces flickered from despair to hope at the thought of not being sent away in disgrace, but before they could try to thank him the prince vanished in a plume of smoke.

A small bat fluttered out of the smoke and squeezed out the nearby window.

If I were a conniving princess where would I hide? Seris thought as he flapped his way past the several rooms.

By the way the nursemaids had reacted, Lily had been gone for some time. Seris trusted that the servants would have looked everywhere logical for the young princess and even some of her better known illogical spots such as the drapes behind the royal throne and inside the closet the Royal Cook kept his particularly large cooking pots.

The bat let out a tiny sigh. There were so many places for an intelligent child to hide when she didn’t want to be found. Unfortunately for her, Seris had an ability that let him cheat now and again.

As he flapped the prince concentrated on his child. Her face as she pouted at him. Her laughter over one of Bremen’s inappropriate comments. Her blonde waves poking up from under the bed covers as she pretended to hide from him.

Slowly Seris felt a phantom tugging at his mind. He lowered his left wing and raised the right to turn, reorienting himself in the correct direction. After a little while of flapping, he came to a very small, private garden located inside one of the bigger public ones. He sailed over the gate then perched in a small ornamental tree to observe his daughter.

Lily had set up a large bucket beside one of the ornamental boulders and was hopping from the rock to the bucket with a very determined expression. Each time she jumped she would attempt to curl up midair then land with one foot on the bucket. Mostly she fell off the bucket. It took Seris a few candlemarks of watching the frustrated arms flapping as she stood on top of the boulder to realize she was trying to copy him. Or him when he landed more specifically.

Seris chittered quietly with amusement before he dove out of the tree and flapped rapidly to gain some height. He angled himself behind his daughter as she tried and failed to land gracefully on the bucket yet again. Seris let out a soft vocalization to get her attention. As she glanced back smoke appeared in midair and he landed with one human foot on the bucket then gracefully stepped to the ground.

“DADDY!” Lily scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him. He smiled and swung her into the air then settled her onto his hip. “Did you see my practicing?!”

“Hello my flower. And yes I did. Were you having fun?” he asked as he kissed her cheek.

“I was trying to be daddy when he lands! Daddy just appears and steps like that and I tried but I couldn’t do it!”

“That’s because you’re not a vampire.”

“I know that!”

“Then why were you practicing?”

The princess lifted her nose in the air and did her very best to look down it at him.

“I was playing pretend,” she said with great dignity. This expression was immediately lost when he nipped her nose, making her giggle.

“Would you like to be a bat? Daddy could make you fly,” Seris informed her. He let his fangs slid out and grinned menacingly at her.

“Nooooooooo! No biting, Daddy!”

He let her squirm her way down to the ground and take off through the garden before bounding after her. She dodged around boulders and small trees until he finally caught her again.

“Now I’ll bite you,” he teased then yelped when she managed to smack his nose with her wild struggling.

“No Daddy! Daddy not allowed to bite me! Angel said so!”

“Well, I suppose if Angel said not to.” He kissed her neck then again when she giggled. “I love you my little flower.”

“I love you batty daddy.”

“You need to stop listening to Bremen,” he grumbled, scooping her onto his hip.

“But Bremen is funny! He lets me chase him if I don’t pull on his tail.”

“That’s very nice of him, but he still teaches you bad habits,” Seris replied, walking them toward the gate.

“Angel says you teach me bad habits too,” she informed him solemnly.

“Angel likes to say lots of mean things. Mostly just to get daddy in trouble.”

“Angel says you don’t need help with trouble cuz you do it lots all by yourself.”

“I’m a martyr in my own home,” the prince grumbled, pulling on the gate then frowning when he realized it was locked. “How did you get in here?”

“I flew.” When Seris shot her doubtful look she added, “I did! From that tree!”

She pointed up at one of the larger trees, which had started to grow over the dividing hedge between the gardens. The prince sighed.

“Then I guess you’d better fly back over then.”

He walked over to the tree and helped her stand on his shoulders so she could reach the limb again. She swarmed up like a forest sprite and started down the tree before he could even warn her to be careful. With a quick wisp of smoke, Seris turned back into a bat and sailed over the hedge, turning back again just in time to catch her as she jumped out of the tree. He groaned as he caught her.

“You’re getting too heavy to catch,” he complained, setting her back on the ground.

“Lily is not too heavy!” she said, glaring up at him. “Lily is just right!”

“Just rightly heavy. You’re going to throw out daddy’s back one of these days.”

“Daddy has a strong back. Daddy won’t ever get old and will take care of me forever!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him through the garden. “Daddy will feed me now because I’m hungry! Flying is lots of hard work!”

The prince smiled and let himself be led through the public garden then through another gate up to the side door of the kitchen. The guard saluted him and beamed at Lily.

“You found the princess then?”

“When have I not?” the prince asked. The man nodded and knelt in front Lily.

“You hear that missy? Your poor da has been running himself ragged trying to find you. You scare all of us when you run away like that.”

“But Lily’s not running away,” the princess protested. “I went on an adventure! I always come back for supper.”

“Oh aye then it’s all right then.” He patted her head and rolled his eyes at the prince. Seris shook his head.

“Come Lily. We’d better hurry up if you want supper.”

“Bye Layton!”

She waved at the guard who waved back as her father tugged her into the castle.

A quarter-mark later and a formal outfit change for each found the two waltzing into the Grand Dining Hall together. Every Thursday evening the king dined with the nobles of the court and he expected both princes to attend as well. Seris usually enjoyed the dinners wherein the nobility traded subtle, and occasionally not so subtle, insults about the current royal line and polices of the kingdom.

As if the king cares one royal coin about what they think about his policies, Seris thought as he led the princess through the Hall and to an upper table.

The princes often had their own table to entertain and gather information from. A divide and conquer strategy that kept the nobility circling around the ruling royal line. Tonight, however, it seemed they would dine side-by-side. Seris sighed when he saw the reason why. Some of the most vocal opponents of the king’s decrees were at their table. It would take both his and Angel’s diplomacy to keep anything too untoward from being said.

Idiots and ingrates again. Even if he’s a royal stick, Anand has enriched the kingdom a thousand times over from what it was before. You would think the nobility would be grateful for still having a roof over their heads much less an abundance of coin in their pockets.

He hid his thoughts behind a careful smile as they bowed to the king then turned to their own table. Seris pulled the chair out for his daughter—after one nobleman had ‘accidently’ dumped her on the ground he’d forbidden the task to anyone but himself or Angelis—then let a servant help him into his own.

The meal began with polite compliments over the quality of the food and its presentation which was quickly followed by absurdly detailed recollections of the superior food which had graced the table when the previous king had been in power.

“The duck is simply delicious isn’t it? Oh, but I remember nearly ten winters ago when the king’s cook made the most amazing sauce to go with it,” one duchess demurred.

“Oh I remember that. I was particularly fond of the pickled eggs that went with it,” a nobleman agreed. “It’s a shame they never make an appearance anymore. But I’ve heard the king isn’t fond of them and it wouldn’t do for the royal stomach to get indigestion.”

“I don’t like eggs either,” Lily piped up.

Seris was only grateful she had remembered to swallow before speaking. A few months being in the city and among the court hadn’t been quite long enough to break all her bad habits.

“They’re an acquired taste,” the noble replied with a pitying expression. “Something those of a less…noble lineage have no taste for.”

“Bremen said they tasted like a duck farted.”

The noble nearly spat out his drink in surprise and stared at the princess.

“Lily,” Seris said firmly, banishing all trace of amusement from his voice, “That’s not polite to say in public.”

“But Bremen–”

“Is not always polite. Now eat your meat.” The princess glared rebelliously at the piece of duck on her plate and pushed it around with her fork. “Eat it or no cake,” Seris warned.

When a looked designed to melt the heart of a frost giant didn’t further her appeal, she stuck her fork into the meat and shoved the whole thing in her mouth. Angelis who sat at her other side leaned forward and carefully dabbed away the juice from her mouth.

“Smaller bites, Liliana,” Angelis admonished.

She pouted up at the other prince as she chewed but decided not to fuss with the threat of no cake still hanging in the air. Amused at her obvious train of thought, the blond prince kissed her temple then withdrew to his own plate.

Sitting beside each other the two matched as if they were father and daughter. Blonde curls to lighter blond waves. Blue eyes to blue. Only the shades of their skin differed. Angelis was fair enough to make half the pampered court ladies jealous while the child was the light brown of a sun-kissed sprite.

“A very precocious child,” another noble said in a tone meant to criticize. A lady tittered but stopped when Seris stared her down. “In fact, I heard she’d run away again,” the noble continued, seeing his first comment gained a reaction. “One would hope the royalty of our realm might be more well-behaved.

“Wasn’t running away!” Lily mumbled, mouth still half full. “I was having an adventure!”

“Don’t chew with your mouth full,” Angelis corrected then added, “And of course you would never run away.”

“Little girls don’t need adventures dear,” the noblewoman added. “They need to learn from their tutors how to be the best sort of princess for their kingdom.”

“My daughter’s learning is not your concern,” Seris warned.

“But of course it is,” she said with a horribly fake laugh. “When she’s of age, she’ll have to marry into one of the other kingdoms, and they’ll hardly want a princess who acts like a wild thing. Especially given her special circumstances. Tales of princess living in the woods are all well and good but what princes really want is a princess who truly knows her place when–”

“You forget your own place Trudana. Her future is none of your concern.”

The entire table stiffened at the malice and power in the prince’s voice. Even the king paused fractionally in his conversation at the other table before continuing. The duchess trembled in her seat as Seris stared her down, his pupil contracted to a mere slit in a sea of deadly emerald.

“The princess is mine.”

“T-The p-princess is yours,” she squeaked in terror.

The woman might have shriveled to nothing before the rest of the peerage from fear alone if Angelis had not taken the opportunity to pop a small fruit between his brother’s fangs and into his mouth.

“Seris your eyes will cross if you keep looking at the end of your own nose,” he chided gently. Calm blue eyes met angry green while the rest of the table held its breath.

“Your apology is acceptable,” Seris finally snapped and looked away. The rest of the table sighed with quiet relief then quickly moved the conversation away from less frightening topics while the prince chewed savagely on his fruit.

It went without saying that the prince would be punished for his lack discretion in displaying his magical power. Only the king could bully his nobility, after all.