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She noticed my inability to pull away from her strangeness. To my surprise, or perhaps not, a cavalier grin surfaced across her face. I could not say whether this wooden enigma longed to goad me with that arch smile or dismember me with those solid fingernails.

Nicu gained my side, breaking the spell. At the threshold, I realized with some chagrin that we did not possess a key. My swords would fail to sever an iron bolt, though I could shatter the windows, inviting the cold.

Out of nowhere, the girl whistled. “Punk.”

The woodpecker soared and dove into one of the chimneys. A moment later, hinges groaned from within, the entrance rattled, and when I pushed open the door, we discovered the creature fluttering inside. She must have used her beak to maneuver the cumbersome locks.

We watched as the bird plucked flint and tinder, darting from candle to candle, inflaming each wick. As Nicu chuckled, my gaze swung toward the wooden girl.

“Never underestimate the power of a female’s touch,” she said.

Her smoky voice had a baffling effect on me. Resentment and fidelity caused me to shove the door wide and step aside. She pranced into the cottage with her wrists bound, her lips flattening as she inspected the dimly lit sitting room, with its stuffed armchairs, tall cupboards, and pots of dried blooms. My sovereigns had decorated with personal touches rather than opulent ones, for comfort as much as to discourage plunderers.

Excluding down pillows in the bedchambers and sumptuous seating, any riches the Royals indulged in here, they brought with them in the form of food, clothing, and a surplus of candles. As it stood, other than the jester’s fetish for fashion and the princess’s collection of illuminated manuscripts, they did not preoccupy themselves with material possessions even at the castle.

I blocked Nicu from entering, facing him while putting my back to the puppet, aware that she would nevertheless eavesdrop.

Prior to fleeing, Nicu had not so much as left a note behind. At present, his resplendent eyes betrayed both guilt and defiance.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” I asked. “Your disappearance has turned this kingdom upside down and gutted your family—”

“And what about me?” he demanded. “What about my own suns and moons? Why can’t I have them? It’s my life.”

“No, Nicu.” I kept my tone low and even. “It’s never just your life. You did not witness your mother’s shattered face or endure your father’s broken voice, wondering what had become of you. By Seasons, you do not know that pain.”

I hadn’t meant to stir private sorrows into this, yet how could I not? How could I not relate?

“You do not know what it’s like to lose someone,” I stressed.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be lost!” he argued, then stormed into the cottage. His profile glared at the orange garland installed in the ceiling—a precaution more than a necessity in this small and familiar space—which led to his chamber in the loft. He rejected the streamer and stalked to the stairway, heading toward the third level on his own.

Frustration had emanated from him, so that I felt it acutely. His predicament, the lengths to which he’d gone...I could not deny his yearning.

I let him be. Though the woodpecker did not, flying after him and leaving me alone withher.

The lumber maiden dawdled beside the hearth, feigning innocence, as if she hadn’t heard the entire conversation. Locking gazes with her, I closed the door and jammed the latch into its slot, the click making her flinch.

Striding to the cool fireplace, I gripped the mantle ledge and stared into the empty pit. As the jester and princess’s most established knight, as a man too intimate with grief, and as Nicu’s friend, I understood the needs plaguing both parties.

The very thought of failing either of them, failing in my vows of loyalty, failing to protect yet again, wracked me to the core.

My peripheral vision picked up the girl tiptoeing away. Without turning from the grates, my arm shot sideways, my flat palm hitting a wall, blocking her passage. Then I whipped toward her. My right sword stabbed the air between us, the execution of which felt rhapsodic.

I cautioned, “Do not think I won’t strike you down where you stand.”

Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the tip of my blade. “He’s not trying to hurt anyone.”

“No, he is not,” I agreed. “That ambition is yours, and for that, you are under arrest.”

The girl opened her mouth, but the jerk of my weapon prevented her. She flipped a length of crimped tresses over her shoulder, waiting for the interrogation to commence.

I sheathed my sword and advanced on her, halting before our garments had the chance to touch. I loomed over her. The proximity unnerved me, but I remained steadfast, enforcing my authority as the First Knight, wanting to remind of her of the pecking order.

Petulant, she tried crossing her arms, but the bindings forced her to give up. For some dishonorable reason, her display tugged on my lips as well as my conscience.

“Questions are gathering between us,” I said. “They grow restless and entangled, and I, for one, have a mind to unravel them.”

She pounced. “Can I go first?”