Elara had never seen a man be so hopelessly ill at ease on horseback, while remaining so improbably graceful.

  “Did we not get to riding lessons?” she asked.

  “They were deemed low priority, for which I remain grateful,” Zaphar replied, shifting uneasily in his seat. He wasn’t in any danger of falling, but Elara could tell his strange movements were bothering the horse.

  “Can you just use the stirrups?” she tried. “It would be much easier for both of you.”

  “No,” Zaphar stated with certainty. “I don’t want my feet trapped in those things.”

  He shifted his legs underneath him until he was standing in the saddle in a low squat. Elara stared in disbelief.

  “This is much more comfortable,” Zaphar told her.

  Calis sniggered. Her own seat was adequate for the mare she was riding—they hadn’t wished to spring for the finest of steeds. Calis rode like someone who occasionally needed a horse for long rides, chasing thieves to the next village.

  “I’m not sure that will be true for any length of time,” Elara said. “And it will attract attention if anyone sees you.”

  “Attention is right,” Calis said with a laugh. “Although I’m not sure if the rumour of a crazy guy on a horse is going to be connected with the runaway princess.”

  “I don’t see why,” Zaphar complained. “This is a much better way. You can see further, as well!”

  He demonstrated by standing up in the saddle like some kind of trick rider.

  “I don’t think—” Elara said, but the horse had had enough. It arched its back and snapped its hindquarters upward, launching into a violent kick. Its forelegs pawed at the air, hooves striking nothing as its whole body surged in a stiff, explosive arc.

  Zaphar stayed standing in his saddle like nothing had happened.

  The horse threw itself to the ground, rolling over on its back like it was trying to squash a particularly annoying horsefly. Zaphar simply jumped off as the saddle approached the ground. Deftly avoiding the kicking legs, he stepped back on the saddle as it came up again, launching himself to match the horse as it rose to its feet.

  The horse twisted its neck around to see the annoying human that was, against all reason, still on its back. Elara stared with no less astonishment.

  “You see?” Zaphar said. “My feet might have been caught if I’d been in those stirrups.”

  “It wouldn’t have bucked if you hadn’t been acting so weird,” Elara admonished. “Just sit in the saddle like a normal person.”

  Zaphar grumbled, but did as he was told. “I can’t believe this is the correct way,” he said. “I will be so sore tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s just the inevitable result of learning to ride,” Elara told him. “We all went through it.”

  Zaphar’s grumbling aside, the ride was a pleasant one. They had no desire to catch up with Captain Oldaw and his men, so they didn’t push themselves.

  “Have you thought about how we’re going to get past him?” Elara asked. Recognising the spot where they had hidden to avoid the man had reminded her.

  “No,” Zaphar admitted. “The problem is that I don’t know the roads here. I know that taking the river to the coast and following the coast will get us to Kirido, but that is all I know.”

  “It’s not the fastest way, but perhaps that means that the captain will avoid it? He surely knows the roads in his patrol area.”

  “That just means he will get to Kirido sooner and be waiting for us,” Zaphar said. “I don’t suppose either of you knows a faster way?”

  “I’ve seen the roads on a map, but I’m not confident that I could pick the right one,” Elara confessed.

  “I’ve never been this far south,” Calis said. “And I always navigated by figuring out which way my bounty went.”

  “Yes. So.” Zaphar thought about it more as they rode on. “Perhaps when we get closer, I can hide you somewhere and sneak in. Then Lord Nos can ride out and rescue you.”

  “You never did say why a princess was escaping into the protection of Lord Nos,” Calis said. “Are they secret lovers or something?”

  “No. Why is it always sex with you? It’s politics, so you don’t need to know.”

  “But I want to!” Calis pleaded. “What side of the war is Lord Nos on?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “He hasn’t officially declared,” Elara said. “But his lands are part of the rebel duchy.”

  “So, he’s a rebel then? Why are you siding with the rebels, Princess?”

  “I’m… not sure that I am,” Elara confessed. “Perhaps… my father has decided that I am, and that’s why…”

  “Do not be asking questions you do not want answers to,” Zaphar told Calis.

  “But I do want answers to them!”

  “No, you do not,” Zaphar said sourly. “Politics just gets worse the more you know of it.”

  “I can’t say you’re wrong,” Elara said sadly. “For now, I just hope to find safety in Kirido, whichever side of the conflict, they—or I—am on.”

  Zaphar cocked his head. “Have I… seen that tree before?” he asked.

  “Um, probably?” Calis said. “We’re doubling back to where we got off the boat, and we’re still north of that village.”

  “No, no,” Zaphar said. “I saw it just a little while ago—back there.”

  He pointed back the way they’d come. Calis shook her head.

  “We can’t have looped around,” she said. “We’re following the road, and the river.”

  “I am not familiar with trees,” Zaphar admitted. “But there cannot be many trees that look like that, yes?”

  The two girls examined the tree. It was a particularly twisted version of an oak—not unusually so, but it did look unique.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Elara said. “Let’s continue on.”

  They did so, ignoring Zaphar’s muttering and frequent backward glances. The second time it happened, they all saw it.

  “That’s not… possible,” Calis breathed. “We can’t have…”

  Elara stared at the offending tree. “It could be a coincidence,” she offered. “Zaphar, put a cut on it, and we can see if it’s the same tree.”

  Zaphar shrugged and sliced off a branch, leaving it where it fell. “Should we go back?” he asked.

  “If we really are trapped by magic, it won’t matter which way we go,” Elara said. She stared at the fallen branch, half-expecting it to fly back onto the tree. Magic was the only explanation, wasn’t it? The question was who was casting a spell on them.

  “Let’s go forward,” she decided. That way, they would be closer to their destination if this were all just a strange coincidence.

  They had only taken a few steps more when a strange green mist started to form on the path ahead. Elara stared at it suspiciously.

  Zaphar slumped in his saddle. “Ah. Have seen this before,” he said.

  “What? When?” Elara asked.

  “When we visited the Fae,” Zaphar answered glumly. “Kelsey steered us right into a green fog bank. She said she knew what she was doing.”

  Elara felt a thrill of fear run through her. Fae weren’t evil, but they were dangerous and unpredictable. And rare. For Zaphar to have encountered two… or was this the same one? Had it followed him?

  “What should we do?” she asked slowly, still staring at the fog.

  “Before… he seemed pleased we travelled to him.” Zaphar shivered. “I would avoid it if I could… but do you think we can?”

  “Unlikely,” Elara judged. “From the stories… There is often a path out, complicated and hard to find. But a way. Unless we’ve come too far already.”

  “Storied,” Zaphar grumbled. “You want to be a part of one, don’t you, Princess?”

  Elara couldn’t deny it, so she turned it around. “Aren’t you already in one?” she asked. “Dragged into adventure by Lord Nos and Kelsey?”

  “That doesn’t mean I want to be in one,” Zaphar muttered. “But if we are to do this, best do it boldly.”

  He thought for a moment. “The advice that Kelsey gave us was: be polite.”

  “Always good advice, when dealing with the Fae,” Elara agreed. “Are you with us, Mistress Calis?”

  The other woman was looking around wildly. She started at being addressed. “Mistress? Is there some other Calis around here? Call me Thieftaker if you must use a title.”

  Elara inclined her head. “And the question, Thieftaker Calis? I’m sure you can appreciate the risk we are taking.”

  Calis scowled. “I miss the plain talking already. I’ll just keep my trap shut for fear of offending him.”

  “I wish you well with that endeavour,” Elara said with feeling. “But I feel that we are being swept up in this Fae’s agenda. Nor do we know when it started. Your decision to join us may not have been entirely yours.”

  Zaphar winced, but kept quiet. His reaction was telling. He thought the Fae had been keeping an eye on him ever since their first meeting.

  “Very well,” Elara said when Calis stayed silent. “Let us meet our fate with heads held high.”

  They rode forward. The green mist swallowed them.

  “Bold indeed! I do appreciate it, even if you were warned in advance.”

  Elara jerked around, looking for the voice. The others were gone. Her horse was gone. She was seated in an elaborate padded chair, in a wood-panelled room that could have been the study of any rich person in Bures.

  The owner of the voice strode into view. Elara couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in the latest fashion for nobles. He was green. He was all of three feet tall.

  Elara froze in disbelief before she remembered her manners. She swept out of the chair. Her travelling clothes had been replaced by an unfamiliar, but elegant ballroom dress. There wasn’t any time to react to that.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord…” she trailed off, uncertain of how to end the sentence. The green man waved her back into her chair.

  “No need for introductions,” he said. “I know who you are, and you don’t need my name.”

  “As you say,” Elara curtseyed again and sat. She mentally revised her rules of etiquette to avoid referring to him by name. “To what do we owe the honour of your presence?”

  The green man grinned. “Oh, there are many reasons, but for you, Princess, I would like to indulge in my favourite hobby.”

  “And what is that?” Elara said, her face a mask. From a Lord, who had trapped a princess in some fashion, that hobby would be only one thing.

  “Deals!” her captor exclaimed. “Tell me what you want, anything at all, and we’ll see if we can’t find a price for it.”

  “I want my husband back,” Elara said immediately. The green man’s face fell.

  “Ah. That is not… impossible, but I fear it is out of your price range. The gods hold onto their followers too tightly to make returning one easy. Ask for something else.”

  “Then, can you stop this civil war?”

  The green man looked at her soberly. “The war will end without my intervention. If you’re asking me to stop it without casualties, that door has already been opened.”

  Elara flinched. She had hoped there was still time. “Then…”

  “Can you say what resolution you would hope for?” the green man asked. “A winner, a survivor? Your aunt, your brother, your father? Yourself?”

  “I don’t have any wish for the crown…” Elara said. “But… the rebels really are following Aunt Syrelle? She’s supposed to be dead.”

  “Answering that question would require payment.”

  Elara looked sharply at him, wondering if any conclusions she reached would require payment. The man’s face was unreadable.

  “Then, I don’t think there is a happy ending,” she said sadly.

  “How disappointing,” the man said. “Let us hope that the other travellers will prove more fruitful.”