The tower shook under their feet. The window hurled itself open and wind howled through, sending books flying off the shelves and cups crashing to the floor. Screaming, the child dropped to the floor and covered his head.

Theodore held his ground. Taking one careful step after another, he pushed against the squall until he reached the window and battened it shut. The shutters rattled on their hinges and the tower swayed around them until Zither ran out of breath.

“It’s okay,” Theodore said, in part to himself. “We’re safe.”

The boy peeked out from under the bed, snot dribbling down his terrified face. Although he was younger, his face chubbier and his hair unkempt, there was no question that this was the duke. He appeared to be maybe eight years old, dressed in a fine vest with buttons mismatched. “Get away!” He said.

Theodore knelt down, as if he were coaxing a stray cat. “Felix Ambergrail?”

“What do you want?” He said. “Leave me alone!”

“Your lordship, I want to help you,” Theodore said. “This is a dream, and we’re trapped here. I can get you out of here, but we need to work together.” A rubber ball smacked Theodore in the eye and bounced away.

“You’re one of them! You’re trying to take me away, just like father!” The duke said. “I won’t let you!”

Theodore sighed and readjusted his glasses. Not only did the duke look like a child, he was acting like one. He wondered how anyone dealt with children. “You’re scared,” he said, trying to find the right words. “You’re alone up here. It’s dangerous, and there’s no way out. You don’t seem to remember me, but I know you. I can help, but you need to trust me.”

“You’re lying! You don’t know anything about me!” He said.

Another windstorm hit. The whole room teetered, the iron tower groaning and threatening to topple. Felix retreated farther under the bed, and whimpered.

Sitting on the floor, Theodore waiting for the noise to subside. It was clear this hiding spot wouldn’t last forever. What would happen once it fell? He wanted to grab the duke, carry him down the stairs and get out of there before it did. But would that work? Theodore touched the toy soldier in his breast pocket. Thistle and Oboe told him they needed to confront what the dream was using to scare them. He couldn’t force the duke to do that. He had to convince him. But how?

Theodore’s thought about his own fairy dreams, about how it used his father. The wind died down and there was quiet.

“I get it,” Theodore said. “You told me before, about what it was like when your dad disappeared.” His throat tightened. Why was this still so hard? “Things changed after that happened. …Everyone has expectations for you, and he’s not around anymore to help you. Even if you wanted to be like him, you aren’t. That’s hard.”

Felix stared, saying nothing.

“I can’t bring your father back,” Theodore said. “But that doesn’t mean you should stay here. I don’t know how or why your father disappeared, but this is different. That thing outside isn’t as scary as you think it is. He made a stupid decision because he was angry and scared. It’s a mess. That doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”

Creeping out from under the bed, Felix got up. The tower rumbled again, and he winced.

“I want to go home,” he said.

Theodore took Felix by the hand. Together, they descended the long well of stairs carefully. The boy cried out whenever the tower shook and the stairs leaned, but Theodore urged him all the way to the bottom. There, they stepped out to see the city leveled. 

“We need to walk toward that face,” Theodore said, pointing. “Keep hold of my hand, alright? I promise we’ll be safe.”

They crossed the dunes, hunkering down as the face in the sky blew to stop them. They pushed on, and the further they went the more Zither’s head began to twist and warp. Cracks formed, splitting him into crude shapes that squeezed together. Then, with a noise louder than anything Theodore had ever heard before, the shapes broke apart and fell like shooting stars. They pulled the world of the dream down like a stage curtain. Their vision blurred and they fell, reality hurtling back to seize them with one waking slap.

Theo opened his eyes. Oboe leapt to his side, almost knocking the doctor down as she did, and grabbed his hand. “You did it!” She said. “I knew you could do it! You’re amazing!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but let out a rasping cough instead. Something was wrong. His aura was like thick, dark smoke, and his skin was hot to the touch. He was sick.

“No!” Oboe’s relief was stripped away. “You had too many dreams!”

Wincing, Theo tried to focus on her. “Did it work?” He gripped her hand tighter. “The duke. Is he okay?”

Oboe looked. The duke groaned, and sat up in bed. Dr. Stillwell moved to check on him, prodding him with all sorts of gizmos.

“He’s… stable,” the doctor said. “You actually managed to pull it off. I don’t believe it.”

“You should!” Oboe said, annoyed. “It worked just like Thistle said it would!”

“Where am I?” The duke said. “What happened?!”

“The experiment was a failure,” the doctor said. “The fairy cursed you instead of what we agreed on.”

“I knew it!” The duke threw his arms into the air. “Which one of these monsters did it? I’ll have their head! Mort! Why are you standing there?! Kill them!”

“Lie down!” Stillwell said. “The culprit has been dealt with. You need to rest while I run more tests.”

“I’m not going sit back with assassins in our midst!” He said. “Guards! Mort! Seize them!!”

Oboe stiffened. Part of her hoped the dream would change the duke’s mind, but a dream could only change someone a little bit at a time and only if that someone listened. Thistle poked her side and flicked his antennae towards the door. He wanted to run. Oboe wasn’t going anywhere without Theo.

“You won’t touch them!” Theo got out of his chair to stand. His legs shook. He was still too weak. Before he could fall, Oboe stuck herself under his arm to help hold him up. “These two did everything they could to save you!” He said. “We broke your curse together. I won’t let you harm them!”

“They’ve muddled his brain,” the duke said to the doctor. “Their magic is killing him. Made him a puppet. If we don’t do something, they’ll do the same to us.”

“Shut up!” Theo said with a shout so loud it startled Oboe. “I don’t care what you think! I don’t care what happened that made you like this! It doesn’t matter! You have no right to treat fairies this way, least of all Oboe! She’s a good person and she’s my friend!”

Oboe gaped at him. She knew they were friends, but there was always doubt in her mind. A little voice telling her that it wasn’t real, that he was just pretending, that it would turn out the way it always did. Hearing him declare they were friends made her battered heart burst with a happiness she didn’t know was still inside.

The duke sneered. “That is not how you speak to a lord of Laien. Mort! What am I paying you for?! Get rid of them! Jail them! Kill them! Stop staring at me, and do something!”

The big knight gave Oboe a pitying look, but did not move. His sword stayed in its sheathe. Maybe he wasn’t so scary after all.

“We were just leaving,” Theo said. He turned his head towards Oboe with a tired smile.  “Come on. Let’s go.”

Theodore rolled over in bed, feeling ready to die. His whole body was weak and sore. He wasn’t able to keep food down and he was both too hot and too cold. It was a miracle he survived the walk back from the city.

He threw off the covers and tried to summon the strength to climb out of bed. All he managed to accomplish, after a feeble amount of squirming, was knocking his pillow onto the floor. Theodore wailed in frustration. He was trapped and now less comfortable.

“Are you okay??” Oboe said, coming up the cottage stairs with a big bowl of soup. “You sound awful!”

Theodore used a trembling arm to brace himself against the bedpost and sit up. “I’m fine. Just yawning. I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t! You need to rest!” She said. “Thistle told us you have to stay in bed so your body can get rid of the extra magic!”

“I’m not going to just sit around,” he said, grumbling. “I have a responsibility to serve the Whirlwood.”

“You can’t help anybody while you’re sick! That’s why you gotta focus on getting better, okay?” She set the soup down on the nightstand. “You’ll feel better if you eat this.”

The dish was filled with a thick, stringy green fluid that made Theodore nervous. “What is it?”

“Medicine. Woodruff with moon herb and sickle shrooms! Thistle said it’ll help. It’ll make you poop a lot!”

Unconvinced, Theodore swirled the spoon in the bowl until he worked up the bravery to put the concoction in his mouth. It had an overwhelming mint taste that went down bitter. He tried to tell himself that meant it was just potent.

“Has it been busy?” He said, forcing himself to eat more.

“Not very,” she said, putting his pillow back. “Most creatures just need help with renewals. I’m taking notes for anyone who’s got a problem I can’t figure out.”

“Good.” Theodore relaxed, feeling better knowing nothing catastrophic had happened yet. He felt grateful for her help now more than ever. “Thank you for covering for me like this. It means a lot.”

A big smiled crept across her face. “You’re welcome!” She was straining not to grab him and pull him into a hug. “Anything to help a friend!”

Theodore put the bowl down again, thinking. “Oboe, I’m sorry. I’ve been cold to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay,” Oboe said. “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, feeling the need to be firm. “Don’t say that. You gave me a gift, and I let myself get upset without thinking.” He looked down, dwelling on his mistake. “It felt good to talk to you about why I was upset. It’s not something I ever thought I’d talk about. …It meant something to me. More than I thought it would. Thank you.”

Oboe was holding her breath. “Does that mean you want the little knight now?”

“…Yes, I think tha–” Before he could finish, Oboe charged down the stairs to fetch it. She hurtled back up again, out of breath.

“I forgot!!” She said, bringing Theodore an envelope. “This came for you earlier!”

The letter had the university’s seal on it. Opening it, he read.

Salutations Sir Grayweather,

I hope your recovery has been steady since the incident. My condolences that things did not proceed as you had hoped. Felix Ambergrail is now more set than ever that the ban against the fairies must be kept. I cannot imagine that anything will change his mind. Attempts to sway him from this attitude have been futile.

There’s a matter I need to discuss with you, however. I did not forget the point of our agreement. Following the incident, I have kept records of the duke’s vitals. His recovery has been remarkable. I cannot argue with results like these. Even if the dream was cursed, the lasting effect on his health has been more than positive. This shows there was some truth in your hypothesis.

Please speak to me at your earliest convenience. This requires further study, but more pressingly, there are people who are still suffering. You told me that there are fairies likewise afflicted. I believe we can make a mutually beneficial arrangement provided you can enforce a more stringent screening process.

Respectfully,

Learned Practitioner of the Healing Arts

Alexander Stillwell

“What does it say?” Oboe said, peeking over his shoulder.

“Things might not be as bad as we thought,” Theodore said.

Oboe offered him the little toy knight again. This time, Theodore took it.

A tingle ran up Oboe’s spine. She felt it before she saw it. Something electric, magnetic, something that stirred up feelings long buried. She twisted to look, sensing the source like needles in the air.

A human fought, flailing and pushing his way through the brush of Whirlwood. His cloak caught in a thicket and he tore it to get free. There was something strange about the human. He was filled with Fates. They called to her, shining like a beacon through the forest. There were more Fates than Oboe had seen in her whole life.

She shook herself. It was none of her business. She watched the human race by and noticed something else. Some sort of magic was chasing him. A beam of light snaked through the forest like a ghost and curled to follow the human as he disappeared from sight.

On the other end of the light was more humans. A whole herd of them. Their armor rattled as they marched, cracking tree branches and trampling the thicket as they went. They followed the light. Or they were, anyway, before it flickered and winked out all of a sudden.

“Devil damn it!” The human in front wore a fancy wide-brimmed hat. “The equipment is malfunctioning again! There’s too much ambient interference!”

“We’ll lose him at this rate,” one of the other knights said.

“We won’t let that happen,” the hat human said. “Keep moving!”

Oboe popped out of hiding. “Hi!” She said. “Are you looking for someone? Do you need help?”

The humans turned to glare at her.

“Stay out of this, fairy!” The hat human said. “This is none of your concern!”

Oboe frowned as they marched past. There was no need to be so rude. She watched them go and wondered what was going on. It was weird for so many humans to come this far into the Whirlwood. Not that it mattered. The human was right. There was absolutely no reason for her to get involved.

She turned into a bird to follow them. It wasn’t hard to find the human the knights were searching for. Everything tingled in that direction. Oboe swooped down through the trees and found the hooded figure again. He leaned against an oak trying to catch his breath.

“You must hurry,” said a raven perched in the branches. “They are coming.”

“I know!” He was a teenaged boy, muddied with curly black hair. “How much farther?”

A knight erupted out from the brush, aiming a crossbow.

“There he is!” Someone shouted. “Grab him!”

“Run!” The raven said, taking flight. “Remember the plan! I’ll meet you there!”

Crossbow bolts sliced through the air, cutting straight through the raven. She burst in a spray of black feathers. Oboe and the boy both gasped.

The big hat human strode out in front. “It’s over Perceval. It’s time to come home.”

The youth stumbled to get away. “Help!” The knights closed in around him. “Anyone! Please!”

Oboe changed back to a faun and dropped to the ground in front of him. She reached out a hand to help him up.

“Don’t touch him!” A knight shouted, rushing to reload his crossbow.

“Why?” Oboe said. “What’s going on?”

The leader drew his sword. “This is royal business. Step away from the boy or I will be forced to slay you.”

“Don’t listen to him!” The boy pleaded. “They’re trying to take me away!”

Oboe looked at the boy and the knight, and felt the choice was obvious. She grabbed the boy by the scruff, a shiver running through her whole body, and ran. A bolt whizzed by her head and planted itself in the trunk of a tree.

“It’s got him!” A knight shouted. “After them!”

Oboe swung the boy into her arms and sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her. Her heart raced like she had robbed a bank. She scanned the trees for a way to escape and spotted a path the humans couldn’t see. It was a fold in the Whirlwood. She darted between two trees, circled around and back through a second time.

There were shouts of “They’re gone?!” and “fan out!” that echoed behind them. That wouldn’t stop them, just buy some time.

“Thank you!” The boy said. “You saved me!”

“Not yet,” Oboe said. “Hold on. I need to get you someplace safe.”

The magic light trailed through the air, weaving through the trees to track them.

“I’ve got a signal!” The leader said. “After them!”

Theodore led the bard off the beaten trail, down a slope of stones to find the hut. It was made from trees, twined together to form an oval domed crowned with branches and leaves. The grass in the yard grew wild and bone chimes dangled overhead. Theodore reached to knock on the door.

Albert blew a frantic tune on his flute. The notes were quick, erratic and anxious.

“What?” Theodore said. “What’s wrong?”

Albert gave him a frustrated look. His mouth opened but no words came out. He looked absurd standing out here in the woods wearing the bright motley of a musician. Putting his mouth back on the flute, he played a low and ominous melody.

“I know you’re scared,” Theodore said. “It’ll be okay. We’ll explain your situation to the crone and I’m sure she’ll undo the enchantment.”

He knocked on the door. “Fern?” Theodore called. “Fern Hardroot? Are you home?”

The door creaked inward. A plump, short old nymph with antlers leered at him from the other side. She had green skin, a shrub of ivy hair, and wore a threadbare robe with a faded crest.

“Who are you?!” She said. “What do you want?!”

“Theodore Grayweather, Ranger Deputy.” He showed her his badge. “I need to sort out a problem between you and Albert here.”

She looked at Albert. There was a brief flash of horrified recognition. “Never heard of him!” She tried to slam door but Theodore braced it open with his boot.

“Just a moment, please!” He said, fighting with her to keep the door open. “Albert tells me you put an enchantment on him.” It took an exasperated game of charades at the Ranger Deputy station for Albert to explain all this. “An enchantment he doesn’t want.”

Fern tried her best to crush Theodore’s foot in the door but wasn’t strong enough. She gave up and let the door hang open.

“I don’t see why that’s MY problem,” she said. “We made a deal!”

Albert puffed out barrage of shrill angry notes. Theodore held up a hand to calm him.

“You took away his voice. Do you expect me to believe this is a good deal?”

She rolled her eyes. “He wanted to be a great musician. I granted his wish. Now he can play any kind of music he wants.”

“Yes.” Theodore felt his patience straining. “But now he can’t talk. The ONLY thing he can do is play music.”

“Beautifully, might I point out?”

Albert stomped around the yard, tooting an ugly racket while glaring and pointing at her.

Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose. “Miss Hardroot, you can’t just take away a basic bodily function like that! There are laws!”

“Well, there wasn’t much to work with!” She said. “It’s not like he’s got any natural talent.” There was a trill of protest from Albert. “Fairy Magic works best on folk who have potential, who are weighed down by Fates, the sort who can send ripples of change into the world. Since he hasn’t got any of that the only way I stood to profit is by taking something away.”

“Then you should have told him,” Theodore said.

“I gave him fair warning!” Fern said.

“Was it a riddle?” He said. “A cryptic riddle delivered in rhyming verse?”

She smirked. “Nothing’s as fair as a good riddle.”

Theodore shook himself. “It’s clear to me that Albert did not understand what he was agreeing to. I’m going to have to ask you to reverse the spell.”

Her smile wilted. “No! He agreed! Voluntary enchantment is allowed by law.”

“There’s no consent if you deceived him,” Theodore said.

“It’s not like I turned him into a toad! You can’t take this one from me! I need these Fates!!”

“If you won’t undo the spell then I’ll have to charge you with unlawful enchantment,” Theodore said. “I can have the city watch come and haul you off so the matter can be settled in the Court.”

Fern broke down. She slumped against the doorframe, crying and wailing so loud that Theodore felt bad. He tried to console her, but she batted his hand away.

“You don’t understand!” She said. “But of course a human like you wouldn’t. You don’t need Fates. You never have to cast a single spell to keep going! You get a set lifespan and that’s all there is to it! Tell me, is that supposed to be fair?”

Theodore knew more than she realized. After the incident with Duke Ambergrail he took it upon himself to learn about fairy magic. It was a type of magic that craved expression. Fairy creatures thrived by affecting growth and change on the world, and it was most potent when used to alter the course of lives.

“I don’t make dreams,” Fern said. “I don’t change the seasons. I don’t help plants grow. I was born to work enchantments on PEOPLE. You think that’s easy to do with all these laws getting in the way?!”

Every human had different Fates, different trajectories their life could take, and each could affect the lives of others. A fairy could grow in power by taking away Fates, by removing possibility and replacing it with a direction. That direction did not have to be good for the target of the enchantment. Even if magic wanted to do good, it could be misused.

“I’m sorry,” Theodore said. “But the laws are there to protect people.”

Fern steadied herself on the door. “Look at me. I haven’t got much life left. I admit it, I tricked the human! But only out of desperation. Don’t make me undo this! Please! I’ll be one foot in the grave!”

“I can’t make an exception on this,” Theodore said, firm. “If you can’t follow the law then you’ll be labeled as wicked. I don’t want that to happen to you”

Fern shoved herself off the door. “Fine!” She stormed over to Albert and slapped him across the back. There was a pop and a spark and albert dropped the flute.

“I can speak again! Oh, glorious day! Hooray!” He embraced Theodore. “I’ve learned that there is no replacement for hard work! I shall endeavor from here to become the world’s greatest musician the natural way!”

Fern sneered. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” She waddled back into her hut, mumbling a few colorful epithets about the human race before slamming the door.

Theodore escorted Albert back to the office, trying to hurry. Lifting the enchantment on the bard took far more time than he planned. He was behind on paperwork and that made him anxious.

When he arrived, he found the yard crowded with creatures. There were trolls and wolves, a gaggle of gnomes, a flock of geese, a few goblins, and a pulsating gelatinous cube.

“Where’ve you been??” A wolf said. “We’ve been waiting all morning!”

“Where’s Oboe?” Theodore tried to spot her through the window. “She should’ve shown up by now to help.”

“Well, she didn’t!” A troll said, grinding his hulking knuckles in the dirt. “Not anybody’s shown up at all!”

That was strange. She was late to work that morning but it was bizarre for her not to show up at all. She was always so eager to help. What happened to her?

“I’m next! Help me next!” A gnome said, only for the others to shove and wrestle to be the one in front. “No! Me first! Me!”

The troll swept the smaller creatures aside with his long arms. “Like hell! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

The geese swarmed past him, surrounding Theodore and pressing up against his knees. “Give us some visas!” “I want to go shopping!” “I want to apply for work!” “Help!!”

Albert stepped back as the whole mass of creatures crowded in around Theodore to plead and shout for his attention.

“It uh, it looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Albert said. “I’ll just show myself back to the city.” He slipped away before Theodore could say goodbye.

The day wasn’t half over and already Theodore felt overwhelmed. The longer he worked as Ranger Deputy the more work seemed to pile up. He grit his teeth. It didn’t look like he would get to catch up on paperwork.

“Alright!” Theodore said, taking command. “Let’s get organized! We’re doing this one at a time!”

Just where the devil was his assistant?

“Tomorrow?!” The pooka’s rabbit ears twitched in annoyance. She was fuzzy and short and had to stand on a chair to yell at him. “I came all the way from the Circle for this and you expect me to come back TOMMOROW?!”

Theodore tried to keep himself from slumping onto the desk in exhaustion. His work day dragged on into evening and now he was working by candlelight. “I can’t renew a work permit without your visa and a proof of residency. You’ll have to come back.”

“I can’t wait that long! My boss wanted this done yesterday!”

Theodore chose not to ask why she hadn’t come sooner. “It will take the Bureaucracy Dome at least a week to mail the permit. Bring the forms first thing in the morning and I can give you an extension.”

“That won’t work!” She said, huffing. “If you aren’t going to help me then I’m just going to have to tell them you refused to do your job!”

He groaned to himself. “Do whatever you have to.” He got up to open the door to let her out. Outside there was one more creature waiting for help. A small frog who showed up late.

“Hey,” the frog said. “You open?”

Theodore looked at the moon. “No.”

“Okay, but real quick: I’ve been falsely accused of a murder. Can you help me?”

He stared. “Tomorrow.” He locked the door shut and sighed. The endless work day left him miserable, and tomorrow he’d have to do it all over again. He climbed the stairs up to his room, changed clothes, and collapsed into bed.

He woke with a start. It was sometime later, and there was a noise downstairs. A hammering wooden thump, loud and fast. Someone was pounding on the door. Theodore stumbled out of bed, dizzy from sleep, and climbed down the stairs to answer it.

It was pitch dark, but he managed to find his spectacles and affix his Ranger Deputy badge to the front of his bed clothes. When he was ready to answer the door, the knock moved to the second-floor window.

Theodore groped his way back up the stairs and discovered a woodpecker pounding at the glass. He unlatched the lock. Before he could deliver a stern lecture on the importance of respecting business hours, the window burst open. The bird thrashed its way inside and, with a pop, changed into a goat woman that tumbled onto the floor.

“Oof!” She said.

“Oboe?” Theodore was alarmed to see his assistant at this hour. “Where have you been? You didn’t show up for work today. Why are you making all this noise?”

“You wouldn’t answer the door, sleepy head!” She moved past him to stampede down the stairs.

 Theodore followed to find her undoing the door locks. “What’s going on?” he said.

She flung open the door to reveal a wide-eyed youth in a muddied cloak. She ushered him in before locking the door tight again.

“A bunch of humans were chasing this younger one through the Whirlwood.” She peeked through the curtains. “He was crying out for help, so I jumped in to save him! The humans were chasing us all day! We need to hide him!”

“You don’t know what this means to me.” The young man was breathless and sweaty. He appeared around sixteen years old and was slight of build. His face was obscured by his hood and long curly black hair. He wore an expensive silk doublet under his cloak that was all but ruined by traipsing through the woods. “Thank you so much.”

Theodore thought it was premature to thank him. There was more to this story. “Why were you being chased?”

The boy hesitated. Oboe stepped in to answer. “He wants to leave the city to start fresh! If we don’t help him, they’re gonna force him to work a job he hates the rest of his life!!”

Someone pounded on a heavy fist on the front door and the young man jumped in fright. Oboe flicked her doe ears, feet apart, ready to brawl.

Theodore gestured for them to hide in the kitchen. He waited or a second round of knocking before answering the door.

Outside he found a dozen royal knights in full plate mail uniform standing in his yard. These were bodyguards of the king, men trusted to speak on his behalf. It would take a catastrophe to bring them this far out this late at night.

Theodore did not recognize the uniform of the man in front. He wore no armor, just a drake-skin leather coat. Strange tools and measuring instruments were strapped across his chest. His eyes were hidden beneath the brim of a cavalier’s hat until he looked up with a piercing stare.

“Ranger Deputy. Pardon us for waking you at this deviled hour. We’ve an emergency.”

“What’s going on?” Theodore shut the door behind him. “What are palace guardsmen doing out here?”

He pointed a badge. “Knight Detective Conrad Whitechain. There’s no time for pleasantries. The King’s son is missing.”

Theodore’s eyes went wide. “The prince? Missing?!” He recalled the fine clothes of the youth in the cottage behind him.

“A fey creature captured him this afternoon. We’ve been tracking them in this direction, but lost sight of them. Have you seen anything?”

Questions burned in Theodore’s mind. Was that the prince? They thought Oboe was abducting him? There was no telling what would happen to Oboe if he played his hand.

“I’ve been asleep.” This was technically true.

Conrad peered back at the moonlit wilderness. “These woods are strange and we’re stumbling in the dark. I need you to help us search before something happens.”

If that was the prince, he need only throw open the door to end this crisis. It was his duty to comply with these men, yet there was more to this. He needed to stall for time.

“If you give me a moment to get dressed, I will help you search.”

Conrad tilted his head. “Be swift.”

Theodore retreated into the cottage, making a point to lock the door. He marched into the back room and yanked back the hood of his guest. The face was unmistakable.

“The royal guard is here to retrieve you, your grace,” Theodore said.

Prince Perceval Stonewall pulled the hood back over his eyes and slipped under the kitchen table to hide. “I’m not here! Tell them I died! I fell into a deep pit! No, eaten alive! They’ll never find the body! Gruesome! Terrible!”

Theodore exchanged a glance with Oboe before bending down to the floor. “I’m the Ranger Deputy of the valley. A servant of the crown. I have a responsibility to return you to them.”

“Well, I’m the prince! I command you to make them go away!”

Theodore shook his head. “You’re not the king yet. That’s not how this works.”

“Theo!! You can’t!” Oboe squeezed under the table and wrapped her arms around the prince. “He told me so many awful things about his father! We have to help him!”

Theodore buried his face in his palm. “His father is our king!”

“So??” She stopped the prince from wriggling free. “That doesn’t make him a good father! Percy just wants to live his own life and he needs our help!”

He paused. He thought of his own father, champion of the nation, and the many times he’d dreamed of running away from him. He thought about Oboe and how any time he disregarded her instincts he came to regret it. He studied her pleading face and then stood.

“Wait here.”

It took a hurried minute to put on his uniforms and boots. He stepped out into the night chill a second time. The royal knights were anxious to begin.

“I apologize for the wait.” Theodore locked the cottage with a brass key. “Let’s get started.”

A fox scurried away from the clanking footfalls of the royal guard. Theodore led them through the darkened bends of the Whirlwood while the Knight Detective consulted a strange handheld device. He adjusted an array of knobs and the machine replied with whirs and clicks.

“Grayweather…” Conrad muttered. “Are you related to THAT Grayweather?”

Theodore did not need to guess who the detective meant. “Yes. He was my father.”

Conrad slowed his pace, looking at Theodore with new and unearned respect.

“I had the honor of being trained by the Hero Champion,” he said.

“You and everyone else.” Theodore felt his skin crawl at this turn of conversation. “He liked to think he was a great teacher.”

“He was more than that,” Conrad said. “I owe a great deal to him. He was my inspiration to serve.”

“I’m happy for you,” Theodore said, wanting to roll his eyes. Whenever his father’s name came up it was the same. People prattled on and on praising the Hero Champion while he stood there hating every moment of it. It was like walking on a splinter you could never get rid of. “I wish I could say the same, but the truth is I hated my father.”

Conrad looked shocked. “Oh.” He kept his stride. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He turned his head to look for signs of their target. “You must have your reasons.”

Theodore focused on the trail head of them. “It’s fine.” He regretted making this awkward. “He was better at being a hero than a father.”

“I never would’ve guessed. He was always so warm with me.”

“Oh?”

The detective was eager to talk about it. “I always wanted to become a knight but I was born too small. I was told to give up, but not by your father. Lance knew I could find a place of duty. He was certain anyone could.”

 “He was stubborn about that.” Too stubborn. Perhaps Conrad would’ve made a better son. Theodore snuffed the flicker of anger and looked for something else to talk about. “What is that machine you are using?”

The Knight Detective twisted a dial and the device let out a crackling squelch. “It’s an aura tracker. It’s tuned to respond if the prince is nearby. If we can find his trail again, it will create a magical projection of the path he’s taken.”

Theodore decided to keep a wider berth from the cottage. “It’s not working?”

“We appear to be way off.” He growled with irritation. “The ambient magic is interfering with the signal. Try taking us North.”

They double backed. One of the guards tripped on a tree root and swore.

“This would be easier by lantern light,” Theodore said.

Conrad shook his head. “The prince will be harder to catch if he sees us coming.”

Theodore needed to feign ignorance. “You make it sound like he doesn’t want to be rescued.”

“Of course he doesn’t!” One of the gruffer knights said. “It’s not like he was kidnapped. He ran off! Not the first time, either. Willful brat.”

Theodore led them uphill. “I thought you said a fey creature abducted the prince.”

Conrad shrugged. “If a lamb wanders into a den of wolves, do you blame the lamb or the wolves? The prince was warned. He is an influential human, the future of our kingdom. Lawful or not, there’s no fairy alive who can resist a prize like him.”

No fairy alive? Theodore stifled a laugh. He trusted Oboe with his life. Still, what would happen if the knight detective found out? “What do you plan to do when we find them?”

“We make an arrest. Failing that, we must slay the threat.”

“Slay?!” Theodore balked. “The fairies here are citizens!”

The Knight Detective narrowed his eyes. “Do not forget that our first duty is to protect order in Laien. History books are filled with the meddling of the fey. They have caused kings to fall and usurpers to rise. Their magic profits in tipping the scales of society, in creating chaos.”

Had the detective actually seen Oboe? “Do we know what creature we’re looking for?”

“Yes,” Conrad said. “A doe faun. Based on the colors I’d wager it was a Fallow Summertail. She snatched him and ran before we could stop her. We’ve been playing cat and mouse since then. For all we know, she may have already enchanted the prince. It could account for why the trail has gone cold.”

Theodore took another deliberate wrong turn. “What happens if we can’t find the prince?”

The Knight Detective kept his eyes forward. “It cannot come to that. If we lose the only heir to some fairy’s mischief, the whole kingdom stands to suffer. The Stonewall dynasty has been stable and fair. It is our duty to ensure it continues.”

When dawn came, the Knight Detective had no choice but to admit defeat. Theodore was happy to bring the knights back to the city gates without misdirection.

“I will assemble a relief party to continue the search,” Conrad said. “I am sorry to have wasted your time, Deputy. Go and get what rest you can.”

Theodore hauled himself home, feeling bleary and empty. He fumbled with his keys to open his front door and stepped into a haze of smoke.

“What?” He said. Something was burning. He followed the choking smell to find the kitchen in disarray.

“Theo!” Oboe said, her hair crusted with batter. “I’m making pancakes!!”

She emptied a mixing bowl onto the table, and pounded a stiff lump of dough with a carpentry hammer. “…How do you make pancakes?”

Theodore sighed. “Where’s the prince?”

She led him upstairs. His Majesty was sprawled out across the bed, snoring. Theodore knelt down to nudge him. He woke with a gasp, flailing his arms and tumbling onto the floor.

“Where am I?!” He said, struggling to his feet.

“The Ranger Deputy office,” Theodore said. “It’s safe. Nobody knows you’re here, but I think you owe me a full explanation.” He tried to rub the fatigue from his eyes. “Come downstairs for breakfast. There is a lot we need to discuss.”

It was not long before the prince joined them downstairs.

“Eggs?” Oboe was mystified watching him cook. “But they’re not supposed to taste like birds!”

Theodore ignored her. It was difficult to salvage the mess she created, but he made do. He transformed flour, egg, milk and sugar into a garnished plate of pancakes that he placed in front of their guest. Theodore dumped himself into the chair across from the prince and downed a scalding mouthful of black coffee. He needed to power through the day.

“You owe me an explanation” Theodore said. “Start from the beginning.”

The prince frowned into his breakfast, curly bangs drooping over his eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“…Ever since I turned thirteen, I’ve been miserable,” Perceval said. “I’m firstborn, and worse, an only child. Father wants to be sure I’m ready to be king. He has every moment of every day scheduled for me. One tutor after another: Diplomacy, strategy, decorum, accounting, espionage, equestrianism, martial arts, ballroom dancing, foreign policy, history, engineering, metallurgy, art, magic theory, alchemy, and on and on from sun rise to sun set all day and every day.

Theodore watched the prince and listened. Oboe stuffed her face between them.

“It got worse when father’s health started to turn.” Perceval prodded at his dish. “I’m expected to take the throne at a moment’s notice. Command the largest nation on the continent. You can’t imagine the pressure I’m under.”

Couldn’t he? Theodore remembered how hard his own father pushed him. Lance tried everything to mold him into the perfect knight. The anger and frustration Theodore felt was still there. It hung in his heart, sharp and heavy and hardened by time.

He tried to think of something to say, something to talk sense into the prince and set him straight. He found himself mouthing the words others had said to him: “Many would give everything to be in your place. You should be grateful.”

The young man pounded a fist into the table. “I never asked to be born a prince! I don’t want the whole world to be my problem! Mother’s mercy. It isn’t fair! That’s why I ran. I can’t take it anymore!”

Theodore felt at odds with himself. “This affects a lot of people other than you. You can’t just leave!”

“That’s not fair!” Oboe said. “If he doesn’t want to be king we shouldn’t make him! He wants to be free and he should be. That’s why I want to help him.”

Theodore felt himself soften. What Oboe said was simple, maybe too simple, but it felt right. How many times had he tried to run from home and never gotten anywhere? How much farther would he have gotten if someone had helped him? If someone understood what he was going through?

This was ludicrous. This was not the same. Was he seriously considering helping the royal heir run away from home? He was loyal to the crown. His duty was to turn the boy in.

“Theo,” Oboe said. “Percy is drowning in Fates. You can’t see it, but it’s like he has to carry a big stone and can’t put it down. Humans get like this when life pulls them in different directions. It’s the job of good fairies to take away that heaviness and put them on the right path. I think this is the right path for Percy.”

Prince Perceval toyed with his uneaten meal, eyes down. “I know I’m causing trouble, but I’m serious about this. I don’t want to go back.” He looked up. “I want to choose my own life.”

Theodore covered his mouth. It was his own wish spoken back to him. Doubt was slipping away, but he clung to it. He needed to stay rational.

“Do you even have a long-term plan?” He stood, leaning over Perceval. “You won’t be able to stay in this kingdom. You could be recognized by anyone. You stand to give up all luxury. You will start over with nothing.”

The prince looked him dead in the eye. “If that’s what it takes. I’ll escape to Feymire, or the Deepside Strait. I’d rather live free in squalor than go back. I would rather die.”

Theodore paused to weigh the prince’s face. It was certain and resolute despite the cost.

“I will help you.”

The first order of business was to get the prince out of his royal attire. Brocade silk was too valuable, it invited attention. Theodore’s clothes fit Perceval poorly, he was not as tall or thin, but they would have to suffice.

“Thank you,” Perceval said. “You don’t know what your help means to me.”

Theodore unrolled a map. “You’ll want to keep your hood up. Any merchant from Laien will know your face. Once we get you to the trade roads, you’ll be on your own. You should be able to pay your way to whatever country you want. I don’t recommend Korveil, unless you like compulsory military service.”

The prince pulled his leather gloves back on, which he had refused to discard. “I was told to head to the Western border of the valley.”

“What?” Theodore planted his hand on the table. “Told by whom?

“The raven who helped me escape.” The prince said this like it was obvious. “…She visited me when father had me locked in the tower. She got all the guards to go away so I could run. Told me she’d get me out of the country. The Knight Detective killed her, but her friends are supposed to help me.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “Who was this bird? Why was she trying to help you?”

He was flustered by the questions. “She called herself Whisper. I think she was helping for the same reason you are. No one should have their life decided for them.”

Theodore felt uneasy. The details were too sketchy. Sneaking into the palace was a feat, let alone fooling the King’s Guard. Theodore suspected this strange bird and her ‘friends’ never had the prince’s best interests at heart.

“Well, this plan of theirs does not make any sense. There’s nothing to the West but the Farbend. A hundred miles of empty, cursed prairie land.” He traced his finger along the map. “If you want civilization you have to take the trade roads, North or South, or else risk going through the capital to take a ferry.”

“I can’t go back to the city.” The prince said, wringing his fingers. “They’ll be waiting and looking.”

“Then we’re going to the trade roads.” Theodore folded the map up and stuffed it into the supply bag. He thrust the bundle into the Perceval’s hands. “Better now than later.”

Wasting no time, Theodore led the prince and Oboe out the door and through the curling trails of the Whirlwood. The hike was long and at first silent. When the tension faded, the conversation drifted toward the subject of fathers.

“Does the king list off all the relatives you’re disappointing?” Theodore said.

“Yes!” Perceval said, exasperated. “It’s like he thinks my grandfather is going to pop out of his grave because I was caught slouching!”

Theodore laughed. “Right? Oh. But you know what’s worse? Is when they start a sentence with ‘No son of mine!”

The prince puffed out his chest. “My son? Too tired to study?” He huffed with mock bluster. “N-no! That’s not possible! No son of mine could be so weak!”

The impression was perfect. “Like we are supposed be mesmerized by every word of every lecture. Like we can’t we can’t be trusted to form an opinion about what interests us!”

 “Of course not! Then all that work they put into planning our lives for us will have gone to waste!” The prince groaned into his hand with amusement. “I can’t believe Lance was just as bad!”

Oboe bolted out in front of them and stood straight. Her eyes were wide with alarm. “Shh! SHH!!” She flicked her doe ears. “Humans are coming!” She whispered, and hurried them back to take cover behind trees.

Theodore waited, and watched. “No one’s coming.”

“Keep quiet,” she said. “Can’t you hear them?”

Theodore saw them first, but only because he knew to look. Two military scouts crept through the wood in camouflage cloaks. Their gear was light, for mobility and stealth. They were members of the Knights of the Hunt. They stopped to survey the area with binoculars. Finding nothing, they moved on without a sound.

Once Theodore was sure they were alone again, he spoke. “I wasn’t expecting another search party so soon. We should hurry.”

They had a second close encounter before making it to the trade roads. Again, Oboe sensed the danger before they were spotted. Now Theodore knew how Oboe helped the prince elude Conrad for so long.

The trees cleared as they reached the edge of the Whirlwood. Theodore stopped dead in his tracks. The trade road was congested with merchant caravans coming and going, blocked by a checkpoint. The area was swarming with knights checking cargo and interrogating travelers. Even the railroad was halted for inspection.

“Damn,” Perceval said. “I’ll never get through without them finding me.”

“You’re right,” Theodore said. The Royal Order had outdone themselves. The best route of escape was cut off with surprising speed.

“What do we do now?” Oboe said.

“Maybe I should go to the Western edge after all,” Perceval said.

Theodore shook his head. “No. We’re not taking a risk like that. Let’s go back to the cottage and think this through.”