by K. M. Shea
“Little Conrad,” Davina stressed.
Little Conrad chewed the stem of a blade of grass and nodded. “Hallo,” he said.
Though Davina smiled benevolently at him, Rynn returned her attention to the princess. “What happened to you? I thought you had…other plans.”
“Indeed, but they were ruined not an hour after I left you.” Davina sighed and placed a hand over her heart as the blue of her eyes turned mournful. “I was robbed! It was terrifying and frightening! The cutthroats took everything—my horse, coin, and provisions. I was left with nothing but the dress on my back! It was positively shocking!”
“I don’t doubt it was a frightening experience.” Rynn tipped her head as she inspected the princess from head to foot and was relieved to see no visible injuries. “But why shocking?”
“I can’t believe they took everything!” Davina shook her head as wildly as Falada would.
Rynn blinked. “You were an unescorted, unsupervised young lady traveling through a forest. It’s surprising they let you go!”
“No, no, no.” Davina repositioned herself on her boulder and placed her hands in her lap. “That they would take everything from me—an unarmed lady as you said—is shocking. I have heard the ballads of highway men, and they never harm young ladies! If they do steal from them, it is only a handful of jewels and a kiss—though I still might have objected to that for they were not handsome as the ballads promised. The ruffians didn’t even have all their teeth!”
Rynn inhaled deeply and rubbed her temple. It’s not her fault she doesn’t understand the harsh realities of this world…but can she really be that oblivious? “Vina, thieves, highway men, and cutthroats steal from everyone. That’s why they’re called thieves, highway men, and cutthroats!”
“Well, I know that now!” Davina rolled her eyes.
I better change the topic, before I am tempted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Rynn forced her shoulders to ease and watched Falada graze in the pasture. “If you were robbed, how did you end up in Cadburey?”
Davina’s eyes shone as she clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Oh! It was the most delightful thing! A wandering minstrel found me, and walked me to Cadburey—he even let me ride his donkey! He was such a sight, dressed in all blue and strumming a lyre as his bell covered donkey trotted next to him! He made certain I wasn’t injured then brought me all the way to the palace! Isn’t that honorable?”
“It is,” Rynn agreed, watching a goose approach Falada. The fairy horse snapped at it, but instead of retreating the goose smacked him in the sneering face with his white wings, honked, then waddled off in victory. Rynn smiled at the display, until Davina spoke again and grabbed every bit of Rynn’s attention.
“Which is why I have decided to give up on my dream,” she announced.
Rynn perked as the world brightened. “Oh? You’ll return to your proper place?”
Davina rolled her eyes. “No, silly. I’m going to be a wandering minstrel!”
Rynn lowered her brows as she puzzled over Davina’s words. “A wandering minstrel?”
“Yes! I just have to save up enough money for a lyre so I can begin to earn my keep. I am a talented singer—Mama always told me so—but to be a real minstrel I must have an instrument as well.”
Rynn was somewhat gratified when Little Conrad—still sitting on his rock—eyed Davina as if she were mad. At least I’m not the only one who questions her plans. “Why a wandering minstrel?”
“Because it will be so romantic, don’t you think? Ambling from town to town, singing for my bread and a roof over my head…” Davina sighed blissfully, then got to braiding her hair. “Lyres aren’t even that expensive, you know. Or at least they wouldn’t be, if King Othmar wasn’t so cheap! He barely pays his servants any wage at all! Did you know that?”
“I imagine it is because he is also paying for your housing and food? That was the common practice your mother adopted as well,” Rynn said.
Davina stuck her nose up in the air. “Regardless! With such stingy wages, it will be weeks afore I can afford a lyre. Unless…” She smiled gamely at Rynn.
“I am not giving you money for a lyre,” Rynn said flatly. “You need to give up on your ridiculous dreams and reclaim your birthright!”
Davina pressed her lips together and looked away from her. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“I want you to do what is right!” Rynn massaged the back of her neck in her frustration and glanced at Little Conrad.
The lad seemed more intent on watching the frogs that jumped in the stream than their conversation. If only he was Prince Geraint, or an adult. While our conversation might not be enough to tip anyone off on Davina’s real identity, it would certainly raise suspicions! I can’t believe she is being this stubborn. I would have thought the robbers would have been enough to make her regret her decision. Rynn eyed Davina with a sliver of respect. It seems she has more iron in her will than I gave her credit for.
Falada swore loudly, and Rynn swiveled in time to see a goose yank on his tail and run off. Falada was on the miscreant goose in a second, his teeth closing over the animal’s neck.
Her heart in her throat, Rynn shouted, “Falada!”
The horse froze for a moment or two before releasing the goose—though he did snort at it and yanked a tailfeather from the goose’s white behind.
Rynn relaxed again, relieved. I can’t imagine the king will react well if he is told the princess’s fairy horse killed one of his geese.
A small frown crossed Davina’s lips. “He listened to you.”
“Only because it suited him,” Rynn said. “He hates the stables, and promised to be good if I took him out.”
“He hated the stables back in Torina, too,” Davina said.
Rynn shrugged her shoulders. “He’s Falada. He probably hates everywhere.” Davina did not look convinced, but Rynn ignored her and plowed ahead. “I assume this means you’ll remain employed as a goose girl for the foreseeable future?”
Davina once again tilted her chin up. “Since you will not help me, yes.”
“Good.” Rynn said. It occurred to her that Lady Maela may very well be willing to give the princess the funds for a lyre, simply to be rid of her. Yes, it’s best if they don’t meet.
She pulled on the skirts of her dress—the princess’s dress—which flashed an inch of her ankle thanks to her taller frame.
Davina pursed her lips. “That looks a little tight on you.”
Rynn snorted. “That’s not my fault, is it?”
Davina shook her head as if she were a wise old woman. “You would be much happier if you learned to be content in your circumstances.”
The urge to shake Davina made Rynn’s fingers twitch. “I hope you know that applies to you as well.”
“Of course! That’s why even though the king horribly underpays his people, I am still happy!” Davina smiled brightly.
Rynn felt tired just looking at her. Six younger siblings—though Eva doesn’t count—but I met my match of wills in a day-dreamer princess who can barely keep herself alive. “I have to go.”
“Very well, Princess. Thank you for stopping to see me!” Davina declared from the throne of her boulder.
“Mmhmm. I’ll be back,” Rynn warned. When she noticed Little Conrad was watching her she waved to him. “It was nice to meet you.”
He pushed his cap up and squinted at Rynn—apparently wondering if she, too, was mad.
I don’t blame him, Rynn thought as she waded through the grass and made her way to the grazing Falada. This all feels like a mad tale.
Chapter 4
The Fairy Godfather
Rynn pondered Davina’s stubborn decision and Lady Maela’s biased beliefs well into the following day. She spent her spare moments trying to figure out how to oust herself, or convince Davina to reclaim her title.
The situation grows increasingly dire with every passing hour, Rynn thought grimly to herself as she shifted her wine
goblet and tried not to fidget. The longer we run with this farce, the greater the chance will be that King Othmar and Queen Morgaine will not forgive us. She glanced around the table, her eyes seeking out the king and queen at the far end.
Geraint—who sat across from her—smiled when she met his gaze. Conrad—Rynn’s only seating companion as Prince Arthur, who had been at her other side, had retired earlier with Princess Lunette—glanced at her cup.
“Do you need more refreshments?” Conrad asked.
“No, thank you. I am quite fine.” Rynn cleared her throat awkwardly and wished for the din and background hum banquets had provided to cover the silence.
Since the first night of her arrival, the royal family had taken the majority of their dinners as family meals. Besides the royal family, often the king’s or queen’s siblings would join them, as well as a number of their children. Tonight, the only other family members present were Conrad and his father—Lord Medrod, the Queen’s brother.
Lord Medrod—who served as an advisor to King Othmar, though as far as Rynn could tell they were mostly close friends—leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the gleaming table surface. “I received word today: Astoria means to impose another tax on all wood imports.”
“Again?” King Othmar sighed. “They persist in tightening the noose.”
“You could increase the export tax on precious metals,” Queen Morgain suggested.
“No, you can’t push them too much with the price of metals and gems, or they’ll start mining their mountains in the north out of desperation,” Lord Medrod said.
Farthendale, thanks to its ore-rich mountains, was the major provider of metals and gems for Astoria’s craftsmen, but Rynn suspected Medrod was right. Astoria hadn’t tapped its side of the mountain range that partially divided the two kingdoms because it hadn’t yet been worth the trouble.
But if they raise the price high enough, it will suddenly become very much worth it. Rynn considered a bowl of salted nuts—since arriving in Farthendale both nuts and mushrooms had become a staple of her diet—and tried to avoid calling attention to herself.
“No, just increase the export tax on paper,” Lord Medrod continued. “Those flat-footed plainsmen can’t seem to get enough of the stuff. They must line their walls with it.”
The suggestion made Rynn cringe. We don’t line our walls, we write books! Then again, I shouldn’t expect them to understand. The Farthendale royal library is abysmal. She had seen it on her tour and had been most disappointed. Ellie—one of Rynn’s sisters who had a passion for books and studying—would have been horrified if she ever saw it.
Conrad shifted next to Rynn. “You disagree, Princess?”
Rynn bit her tongue to keep from cursing her luck that the eagle-eyed Conrad had noticed her reaction. “It is merely that Astorians treasure books and learning. It’s why Astoria much admires the kingdom of Anura and its private library. Taxing paper will make many Astorians…disappointed.”
“Ahhh, yes. I had nearly forgotten we have an Astorian princess in our midst who can explain the strange musings of her kingdom and her mother.” Lord Medrod raised his wine cup to her, looking down his hawkish nose—one of his resemblances to his sister—at her.
“Brother.” Queen Morgain’s voice held a note of warning. “Davina will soon be my daughter-in-law. You will treat her with kindness and respect.”
Lord Medrod sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry, Davina. It is merely that sometimes we so absolutely do not understand your people.” He shook his head. “We see passive aggressive advances and abuses where, likely, your people have no idea the insult was given. Even with Lady Maela around, she hasn’t been able to bridge the gap between us.”
Rynn bowed her head. “I understand that our cultures—and kingdoms—value different things, Lord Medrod.”
Conrad studied his fork. “Fancy that, Father. A young princess is more understanding than you—an adult and an advisor to the king.”
While the others chuckled amidst Medrod’s protests, Rynn furrowed her brow and studied Conrad. He and Geraint must be very good friends if he’s willing to risk his father’s wrath to lighten the moment. Or is he just that politically motivated?
Conrad looked up and, upon meeting Rynn’s gaze, bowed his head to her.
Rynn studied his dark, bottomless eyes. …No…I don’t think he did that out of any ulterior motive.
King Othmar interrupted Rynn’s thoughts. “This just shows that it will be good for us to welcome a royal Astorian into our family. I am glad, Davina, you are here.”
The king smiled handsomely, making Rynn’s heart twist. They are so kind, and their trust is so terribly misplaced in me. Rynn smiled wanly at the king, and was relieved when he returned his attention to Sir Medrod.
“Father, it is growing late. May we not be excused? Conrad and I have work to discuss, and surely Davina does not wish to spend her evening at this table,” Prince Geraint said.
King Othmar waved a hand at him. “Of course. Good evening, you three.”
“Good evening,” Rynn and the cousins chorused.
Rynn took Geraint’s arm, though he paid little attention until he led her all the way back to her rooms and spoke mostly with Conrad.
“Yes, we’ll have to buy another shipment of dyes from Caladonia,” Geraint said.
“Indeed,” Conrad said. “Which will provide another reason to approach your father about the repairs the harbor cities need after that last storm.”
He seems so well informed about everything. I wonder what his official role really is. Will he take over after his father and advise Geraint?
Rynn risked glancing at Conrad, and felt slightly embarrassed to find his eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Rynn hurriedly looked away, then glanced at him again when she thought he would have looked away by now. He hadn’t.
Still scrutinizing her, Conrad tilted his head. “You should wish the princess good night.”
Geraint blinked then looked from Conrad to Rynn. “Why?”
Rynn kept her attention on Geraint—who felt much safer with his easy smiles than Conrad did with his dark, observant gaze—and smiled lightly. “Perhaps because we have stopped outside my rooms?”
“Oh. Oh!” Geraint laughed sheepishly. “I do apologize, Davina. You must think my mother raised me in a barn. Sleep well—I look forward to seeing you in the morning. Mother wishes to spend the morning discussing wedding plans.”
Rynn’s smile froze. “I shall look forward to it. Good night, Prince Geraint, Conrad.” She curtsied, then slipped into her room before Geraint could say anything more.
Once inside the room her smile fell from her lips like a lead weight, and she leaned against the wooden door. Thank you, Geraint, for that additional reminder that time is running out. Rynn shivered as she heard their voices retreat down the hallway. A few moments passed before she pushed off the door and began pacing the length of her room.
“I knew our relationship was strained, but I did not properly take into account how very tense the situation is. Davina, you thoughtless girl! You’re going to ruin Astoria’s relationship with Farthendale because you want to sing!” Rynn plucked a pillow from her bed and threw it at the door. “And it is beyond me how Lady Maela can pretend this will not end in a tragedy!”
She breathed heavily and glared at the pillow, thankful for the chance to vent some of her frustration. A moment passed, before she plopped face first on the bed. “This can’t be happening to me,” she moaned. “It’s a nightmare! It’s not like I can just give in and be the princess—there will be other visitors from Astoria who will know I am not Davina! But Davina’s so thick headed, who knows if I’ll ever get through to her, and Lady Maela isn’t likely to believe in Davina unless she does something intelligent for once!”
Rynn pushed herself into a sitting position on her bed and tried to think. Perhaps there is a way. Davina wanted to be a minstrel after one saved her…could I arrange for her to meet Geraint?
He’s handsome and kind, she just might fall in love with him as easily as she fell in love with a bad career choice! But how can I lure him out to the goose meadow?
Rynn sighed and flopped back down on her bed. “If I had someone, anyone to discuss this with, it might be easier.” She curled her fingers into fists, trying to battle off the loneliness that threatened to overtake her. I’d give anything to talk to Eva—or any of my siblings! Someone who knows the real me…
“I could always summon Mortimer,” Rynn muttered.
Mortimer was the fairy godfather who had rewarded Rynn’s parents for their good deed. As he had continued to pop in on the family even after rewarding her parents—mostly because he had to fill his quota of wish fulfillments and needed a new target—he had given the family a somewhat humiliating phrase they could repeat to summon him.
Rynn had never done so. As grateful as she was that his original gift to her parents meant she hadn’t been born in a hut in the deep forest, she hadn’t envied any of her siblings their terrible gifts. Any remaining respect for her fairy godfather had plummeted after he had “blessed” (or more correctly cursed) Eva with magical powers only the year before.
But this was a desperate situation. She picked at the coverlet on her bed. “Maybe it’s time to change that…”
Mortimer might, after all, be able to break the vow Davina had forced on her. Yes! If he can rid me of that stupid vow, I can fix this all myself!
Rynn abruptly sat up again and crawled off the edge of the bed. What was that awful phrase we’re supposed to use again? She strained her memory. “I think it was: Oh, great fairy godfather Mortimer! I, a stupid human, humbly need your magnificent and wonderful magic!”
A loud bang—like a tea kettle exploding—filled the room. Rynn took a step back and tried to blink the stars out of her eyes.
“WHO DARED TO SUMMON ME IN THE MIDDLE OF MY RESEARCH?” a deep voice shouted with such volume Rynn felt it in her stomach. “SOPHIA, IF YOU—oh. It’s you, the oldest brat.”
When Rynn’s eyesight finally cleared, she found Mortimer, his arms folded—making his gray robes strain in the shoulders—and his hooded blue eyes narrowed.
