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Fantasy

Actually, he didn’t say yes right away.

First condition, he needed to know in advance where I headed, to ensure a measure of safety and that we remained in Autumn. No unsanctioned border crossing to other Seasons.

Letting him know my destination posed a risk. If he refused, fleeing on my own would be impossible, since he’d know where to find me.

But really, he gave me no choice. When I revealed where I’d been heading, he balked. I saw his mind filtering through the same thoughts I’d had in the beginning.

Nobody goes there anymore.

What could I hope to find? I didn’t know yet.

One thing I did know, sharing the fairytale’s role in this was out of the question. Dumbly, I’d hoped the connection between the location and the tale wouldn’t cross his intuitive mind.

Go figure. It did.

“It is a secluded place where stories have been bred,” he said. “It possesses an ancient soul, old scenes of majesty, now collecting dust.”

Not many stories, I wanted to correct. Just one.

I played innocent. “Really?”

He furrowed his brows, unconvinced. “What specific curative do you seek?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Theoretically, I was.

“If I have this straight, you’re saying that you had no way to identify what remedy to pursue in the castle’s infirmary,” he summarized. “So little information, yet you went to such lengths.”

“Well,hello. Isn’t that why physicians label bottles? So we know which one goes with which illness?”

“If you couldn’t locate it in the castle, what makes you think this historic corner of Mista bears the right medicine for your mother? Are you expecting to find a corked restorative waiting for you in the woods?”

“Fine. A miracle happened there once. I’m a sucker for miracles.”

That, he finally accepted. He regarded the umber branches and carmine leaves tangling around us. Some alternative thought came to him then, a realization. Hurt blasted across his profile like a gale. Exhaling, he nodded to himself, like he’d succumbed to a fact.

The sight of his pain bothered me, how he wore a sensitive heart on his sleeve. Maybe this hit hard because he’d resolved to help me, in spite of how it might affect his ethics and rank later.

I wondered what excuse he planned to give. To the Crown, who put its faith in him. To his wife or husband, who’d no doubt go mad over his whereabouts.

He’d probably relented more for Nicu’s happiness than mine. Anyone could see they were close friends. In spite of the Royal’s age, this knight couldn’t switch off the impulse to shield him.

That said, the monarchy would deem Aire responsible if anything happened to the young man.

Had I truly gotten him to consider this trip? How?

I mean, I knew how. Nicu had gotten to him first, then I’d polished him off. But Seasons, the knight’s sense of compassion and heroism ran the gamut. He hadn’t been able to turn his back on a girl desperate to save her mother, much less the desires of his charge, who’d wielded another kind of verbal magic last night.

Moreover, I had proven my inability to tell a bald-faced lie. I hadn’t added how I’d learned to skirt around that. I’d told a few truths, whipped up some half-truths, and omitted other truths.

When a person gave their word, Aire sure took that seriously.

His second condition? That came once he’d allowed Punk’s sharp beak to reverse the damage on my nose, which ached afterward.