Page 9

“See this stream, Princess? It leads through the forest to a stone cottage which is well hidden in the woods. An old woman lives there. Some call her a witch; others, the queen of the fairies. She has a good heart and is a gifted healer.” He removed a ring from his finger and unsheathed his dagger.

With a tremulous smile, he gave them to Issylte.

“Take this ring to the fairy witch. When she greets you at the door, offer it to her as payment for your shelter. It is solid gold, which she can sell in the local village for the provisions you will need. Tell her how the queen tried to have you killed. The fairy witch will shelter you, not just because she has a kind heart, but because you are the king’s only child.

The rightful heir to the throne. There will come a time when you’ll claim your birthright.

In the meantime, you must keep your identity hidden.

Queen Morag must never learn the truth.”

Issylte strapped Cian’s gifted dagger to her ankle and placed the gold ring in the bodice of her gown. She gazed into the kind eyes of the two noble huntsmen.

“I cannot thank you enough for your courage and kindness. I will never forget your act of bravery, Lords Cian and Bolduc. Someday, somehow, I will find a way to reward you. You have my solemn word.”

Cian and Bolduc each kissed her hand. They placed their right fists over their hearts in fealty and bowed their heads in homage.

Pointing once again to the stream, Cian urged Issylte to hurry.

“Follow the stream, Your Majesty. Go quickly, and use the dagger to defend yourself if necessary. The fairy witch’s cottage lies deep in the Hazelwood Forest. It’s sheltered in a grove of trees, hidden by branches covered with vines and briar.

Go now, and may the Goddess be with you, Emerald Princess. ”

Issylte stumbled away, following the stream deeper into the forest. She heard the loud slap and shout of “HAH!” as Bolduc frightened her beloved mare. Tears stung her eyes and she staggered, nearly tripping over her dress.

She would never see or ride Luna again. She would never see her father, would never have the chance to beg him to bring Gigi back. She’d never see Gigi again. Ever. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t go home. She’d never see the handsome Lord Liam again. Or Roisin and Aislin. Sharp branches cut her cheeks, the copper tang of blood filling her nostrils.

King Donnchadh’s gentle face floated before her, and Issylte nearly choked. He was lost to her now, just like Gigi. Her father would be heartbroken to learn of her “death”, and Issylte would long for the feel of his arms around her and the loving gaze of his twinkling, merry eyes.

Suddenly, her fingers sensed the icy pull of her stepmother’s touch.

A shiver crept up her spine. Could the queen see her?

Did someone follow her? She began to run.

She stumbled through the forest, following the stream.

The cottage was hidden in the woods. A witch fairy lived there. A kind one, Lord Cian had said.

The temperature was dropping. She had to hurry. Soon, it would be dark, and the predators would come out of the woods. There were wolves…

Hungry, frightened, and alone, Issylte sensed she was being watched and followed.

She searched the forest but could see nothing in the dimming twilight.

She withdrew the dagger that Cian had given her.

At least she had some protection. She heard a rustling in the woods.

But, with her deaf ear, she couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from.

Was it behind her? Ahead? She didn’t know.

She scanned the forest, sick with fear. In the dim light, she spotted a small woven basket just up ahead, alongside the stream.

She rushed forward to examine it. Inside was a large red apple, some berries, and a garland of the wild pink roses that were abundant in the forest. A feeling of peace flooded her.

“ It is safe ,” the forest seemed to say. “ Eat .”

Issylte sniffed the apple and red berries. The fruity scent made her mouth water. She took a small bite and waited a moment to see if it had an odd taste. It tasted delicious.

She devoured half of the apple and a few of the berries, reserving the rest as a precaution in case she couldn’t find the cottage. She quenched her thirst from the stream, picked up the basket, and continued her perilous trek through the Hazelwood Forest.

Once again, she had the sensation of being followed. She heard the patter of feet, the rustling of leaves. This time, when she glanced to her right, she glimpsed some sort of small creature which scampered into the woods.

Hushed whispers—of children ? — seemed to come from the forest.

Despairing that it would soon be too dark to see, Issylte spotted a trail of light pink wild roses leading from the stream into a thicket of trees.

“ Follow the trail,” the forest whispered. Her veins thrummed in response.

The wild roses led to a dense wooded hamlet where several trees with low-lying branches covered in vines concealed a small cottage with a thatched roof.

The smell of smoke from the chimney wafted through the air.

Golden light glowed from the two shuttered windows on either side of the entrance door.

Thick trails of ivy embedded with pink flowers clung to the stone walls.

The floral vines covered the entire front of the cottage, concealing it from view.

Wild roses led right up to the carved wooden door.

Issylte had found the witch of the Hazelwood Forest.