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“Get off!” Maisel demands, giving me a hard shove. “You’re as big as a cow!”

“What are you doing here?” I exclaim. Delighted, I stand, brushing the dead grass and pine needles from my riding gown before I reach down to pull the gnome woman to her feet. “Did you travel with Ayan?”

The other gnome shifts from rock to man, taller than Maisel by nearly a foot, looking unsure of the situation. He watches the others ride to us, leery of our group.

“Ayan tagged along,” Maisel grouches, tossing her strawberry blonde braid behind her shoulder.

She’s just as I remember her—about two feet tall, with a pretty doll-like face, wearing a complete set of steel and leather armor like a tiny warrior. “We didn’t ask him to join us.”

“You’re glad I came,” Ayan says as he dismounts.

“You weren’t supposed to let them know we’re here!” snaps the gnome I don’t recognize.

“Always a pleasure.” Pranmore bows before Maisel like a perfect gentleman. “But what are you doing in Winrell?”

“The jarl wanted to make sure you all don’t go running your mouths about us,” Maisel says, eyeing the group. When she spots Lawrence, she purses her lips as if she’s appraising him. Apparently liking what she sees, she gives him a wave. “Well, hello there, handsome. Who might you be?”

The male gnome she travels with jerks his head toward her sharply.

Bemused, Lawrence looks from Maisel, to me, and then back at the gnome again. “You’re Dorn—”

“Dorian gnomes!” I interrupt. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

As if he thinks it’s a trick, Lawrence shakes his head. “They don’t exist.”

Maisel sashays forward. “Oh, I assure you, I’m very real.”

Ayan snorts, and then he tries to cover it up with a cough.

Lawrence lifts his brows, looking unsure whether he wants to laugh or step behind me so I can protect him from the gnome woman’s advances.

“Maisel, this is Lawrence. He’s King Algernon’s son…” I brace myself for her anger, and she doesn’t disappoint. Thankfully, it’s not directed at me.

It takes all of two seconds for the small gnome woman to catch hold of Ayan’s hair and yank his head down to her level. “You brought aprincewith you?”

“Clover wanted to see you,” Ayan explains.

I hold up my hand. “Actually, I didn’t know you were here.”

With a growl and a shove, Maisel unhands Ayan. “We should have executed you when we had the chance.”

“Why is it a problem that I’m the prince?” Lawrence asks, narrowing his eyes.

Bartholomew helpfully steps in. “Because of taxes and—”

“You didn’t see us, do you understand?” the male gnome says, interrupting the young duke. “Just forget we were here.”

“And if I don’t want to do that?” Lawrence asks, purposefully obstinate.

Here we go again.

“Just leave them be, Lawrence,” I say soothingly.

“That’s right,” Ayan taunts, heckling the gnomes. “Pick on someone your own size—not these little gnomies.”

“I’ll cut you down to our size,” the male gnome sneers at the elf.

A perturbed groan draws my attention to Henrik.