Theodore let Oboe take the lead. She changed directions, doubled back, and led them down a careful winding path with no seeming rhyme or reason. Theodore was anxious the prince would be spotted but Oboe made sure they did not cross paths with any more knights. It was impressive.

When they reached the cottage meadow, Theodore bristled and yanked Perceval’s hood down over his eyes.

“Hey!”

The office yard was crowded with creatures again. There was a troop of sweat covered fishmen, a mess of sylph, a pair of disgruntled looking werewolves, a napping black bear and more.

“Keep your face covered!” Theodore said. “A creature is liable to recognize you. Some of them read the newspaper!”

“Sorry.”

“We have to be careful,” Theodore said, stepping out into the meadow.

“Whoa, hey? Are you opening?” A Magpie fluttered down from the treetops and landed on Theodore’s shoulder. “Hi! I’m Pip! I need your help!”

Theodore shook the bird off and Oboe hurried the prince toward the office door. “The office is not open yet! Come back later.”

The crowd stirred. Heads turned. A sylph stretched its wings. “Oh! Is the office open?”

“You’re late!” One of the werewolves waved a pocket watch in a clawed hand. “I haven’t got all day!”

The bear rose with a yawn, shook the dew from its fur and padded toward him.

Theodore sucked in a sharp breath as the creatures moved to surround them. “No! We are not open yet! You can all go back to sleep!” He pushed his way through the lot of them, panicked.

“The door is open!” The werewolf said, pointing. “That means you’re open!”

Theodore slipped inside after Oboe and Perceval. “It’s closing now! Go away!” He locked it before they could argue. Door pounding and muffled shouts followed. Theodore leaned against the door and sighed. 

“What’re we gonna do??” Oboe said. “There are all sorts of humans stomping around looking for Percy and now we have piles of work to do.”

The prince peeled back his hood. “It’s fine. I can hide out here until the heat dies down. Go ahead and take care of your business.”

“The office won’t stay safe for long,” Theodore said. “If they’re tracking your aura it’s only a matter of time before they check here again.”

“Hey, your window’s open.” Pip the magpie peeked inside and hopped onto the kitchen window sill.

Theodore wrenched Perceval’s cowl back in place and marched into the kitchen “We still aren’t open! Please leave!”

The bird craned his head at the leftovers on the breakfast table. “Oh wow, pancakes and eggs. That’s cool. Hey, speaking of eggs, you think you can help me rescue my mine? They got stolen and I am TERRIFIED about their safety.”

Theodore groaned. “This is not a good time!”

Perceval followed him into the kitchen. “What if Oboe stays with me? She did great avoiding the soldiers. She can make sure I don’t get spotted while you do your job.”

Oboe stepped back. “N-no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The black bear climbed into the window frame from outside, pushing Pip onto the floor. “Is this like a service window? Hi. I need service.”

Theodore slapped his face. “Can this wait?”

 “I don’t think so? Knothole Grove is on fire. That should be urgent, right?”

Theodore’s knees buckled. “What?! For how long?!”

The bear shrugged. “Since before the sun came up. I don’t know. I’m a bear! You’re the species that measures time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“Well, the office has been closed,” the bear said. “Not sure what I was supposed to do.”

Oboe glanced between the bear and the prince. “This is bad! You can’t be everywhere at once!”

“I don’t have to be,” Theodore said. The prince had the right idea. He took hold of Oboe by the shoulders. “I need you to look after him while I take care of this backlog. We don’t know how long they’ll be searching for him, but you’ve shown you can outsmart them.”

“Me??” Oboe said. “You can’t leave the prince alone with me that long! I’m a fairy too! What if I enchant him?”

Theodore raised an eyebrow at her. He had only ever seen her use her powers to transform herself. As far as he knew, she had never used magic on anyone else. “You’ve done fine until now. Why is this a problem?”

She clawed at her fingers. “W-well, I don’t HAVE to enchant anyone. I magic myself to survive. But…” She gestured towards the prince’s leftovers. “It’s like if you’re real hungry, and you’re hanging out with the tastiest pancakes in the world all day. You don’t have to eat them, you can promise not to eat them, but just seeing them makes you hungry. It’s not safe.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Theodore said. “I know you. You’re helping Perceval out the goodness of your heart. There isn’t anyone I trust more.”

She covered her face, a blush on the tips of her ears. “Really?”

There was still the problem of that aura tracking machine the knight detective had. “Take him to Crookhole Mine. The magic ore should stop them from locating you. If a patrol swings by, move him somewhere else. Make sure he doesn’t get caught or lost and stop any other fairies from finding him.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the black bear said. “But the grove isn’t getting any less on fire.”

Pip fluttered onto Theodore’s soldier. “Yeah! And maybe you can help me about my eggs afterwards.”

“I’ve got to go, Oboe.” Theodore opened the door and the creatures outside started shoving and shouting for help. “I’m counting on you.”

“I don’t—”

He shut the door before anyone else saw the prince. Every creature in the yard was shouting for his attention. He straightened his tie, and got to work.

Oboe crouched at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch through Theo’s binoculars. It was quiet outside but she could not let her guard down. She needed to focus. She needed to not think about anything else. Theo was counting on her to protect Percy.

Something moved. Oboe stiffened and then launched forward. She transformed into a snarling wolf and chased off the suspicious looking squirrel skulking around outside. The perimeter was secure thanks to her vigilance.

Percy paced deeper inside the mine. He grew antsier with each passing hour. They brought a bunch of Theo’s books to pass the time but the prince found them all very boring. Oboe didn’t blame him. Technical manuals, rulebooks, and textbooks. What was the point if there wasn’t even a story or pictures?

“How long are we going to stay here?” Percy said.

“I dunno,” Oboe said. She scratched herself with a hind leg before popping back to faun form. “Until it’s safe.”

He scowled. “That could take weeks. Maybe months! You don’t know Conrad like I do. He doesn’t just stop.” He pulled another wedge of cheese from the supply bag and chewed. “Maybe this was a mistake. Whisper had a plan to get me out of the valley. We should be looking for her.”

“Theo has a plan too!” Oboe said. “We should stick to it! He’s smart!”

Percy sat cross legged on the cave floor and grimaced. “I ran because I felt trapped. Now I’m even more trapped than before. I wish I could just… go. I’m sick of it here. I’m always a problem everyone else has to worry about. I wish I could change. I’d rather be someone, anyone else.”

A shiver ran down Oboe’s spine. It was getting hard to ignore the Fates swirling off the prince. They filled the cave like the scent of baking bread and left her tense with craving.

She shook herself. Looking away, she shoved the binoculars back in her face. She needed to stay focused. This is why Theo should’ve watched the price instead.

It was easy enough yesterday to push the hunger from her mind. She had plenty of practice. But this was more fates than she had ever tasted before. Now the excitement of the escape had faded. Now she had time and quiet to think about how long it’d been since she last used her magic on someone other than herself. Now, after years of fasting, she was stuck guarding a banquet. No one would miss one grape he platter.          

She pinched herself, hard. This wasn’t about her, it was about Percy. He needed help and she wasn’t going to take advantage of him. He was counting on her, and now Theo was counting on her too. She made a promise to grandmother and was going to keep it. She would not be weak.

“Oboe?”

Her fur stood on end. She shot a glare at him. He needed to stop talking. “What?”

“I’m gonna go for a walk.”

She flung herself in front of the door, arms splayed. “Nuh uh! No way! No! There’s knights out there! You’ll get caught!”

He pouted. “I know that. I’m not a child! I’m just going stir crazy in here. I need some fresh air.”

Oboe felt the same. Air sounded amazing.

“Theo told us to stay here,” she said to remind him as much as herself.

“It would just be for a little bit.” His smile was pleading. “I’ll be careful.”

Oboe held her breath. Her arms drooped. Peering down the mountain trail, she saw they were alone. “Okay,” she said. “But I’m going with you.”

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

“Excellent.” Percy stepped past her. “Let’s go.”

Oboe felt much better once they left the cave. The prince’s Fate drenched aura still shimmered like a beacon, but the magic in the Whirlwood masked it. Made it bearable. It was a relief, but she couldn’t relax enough to enjoy the walk. The search parties were still out there. She needed to stay sharp.

“Wait!” She said, staring at the prince. “Why aren’t you wearing your hood??”

Percy looked embarrassed. “I forgot it back at the office.”

“But you need it! Someone might see you!” Oboe said.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “It’s too hot to wear during the day.”

Theo would be mad when he found it. Now they had to be double extra careful. She looked for a bird to ask how things looked from the sky.

“Humans? Yeah. Yeah.” The starling bobbed on her branch. “There’s a bunch snoopin’ around to the South of here. You’ll steer clear if you keep to the Wander.”

Oboe exhaled. “Thanks! Did you hear that Percy?”

She turned to find him gone and let out a yelp of panic. One quick glance and she could sense him up ahead. She flailed her way through a thorn thicket, burst through the other side, and tripped into a face plant.

“Oh. Oboe, there you are.” Percy helped her to her feet. “Look! I found someone who wants to help us.”

Oboe shook away her dizziness. She discovered that the prince was speaking to the venerable crone Fern in a secluded grove.

“That’s right.” Fern strained to keep her smile straight. “You can leave the young man with me. I’ve more than enough magic to ensure no one ever finds him.”

Oboe saw the hunger in the old nymph’s eyes. Impatience in how she clenched her hands. The crone was dangerous.

 “We don’t need your kind of help! Percy, we should go.”

The crone darted between them and pushed Oboe away. “Keep your grubby hands off him, you wretch!” She drew out a ripe and perfect apple from her sleeve and offered it to the prince in trembling hands. It hummed, heavy with magic humans couldn’t see. “One bite, your grace, and your life will never be the same. Quick, I hear the soldiers coming!”

“Percy, no! This is a trick! Don’t listen to her!”

“Quiet!” Fern’s face curled, furious. “You have no right! I won’t have the boy wasted on an outcast like you!”

Oboe batted the apple out of her hand. Fern pounced and knocked Oboe to the ground, growling.

“How dare you!?” Fern tore at Oboe’s mane. “Impudent little weed!! I’ll kill you!”

The prince stepped back, alarmed. “Why are you fighting?! Stop this!”

“Excuse me.” Oboe and Fern’s fight was interrupted by a gnome crawling out from the thorn bush. He was rat faced, with scars, black quills, and wore mouse furs. “I couldn’t help but overhear you all bickering in my yard. If you’re fighting over the human, don’t bother. I’m calling dibs.”

Fern sneered. “Stay out of this, gnome! I outrank you as well!”

A unicorn stuck its head through a narrow pair of trees. “Can I get in on this?”

More voices were approaching. “We’re getting close! This way!” A troop of sylph fluttered into the grove to join the growing crowd. This was bad. More and more fairies were homing in on the prince’s location. Any one of them could be wicked and it would only take a touch to put a wicked spell on him.

Oboe shoved Fern and wriggled out from under her. “Percy! We need to get out of here!”

“No!” Fern said. “He’s mine!”

“Hold on, hold on!” The gnome strolled into the center of the dispute. “Seems to me a lot of us are interested in enchanting this kid. No need for it get ugly. I say we let the free market decide.”

“What are you suggesting?” Asked a pooka who only just showed up.

“Let’s all tell the human what we have to offer, and let him decide who gets to magic him. Simple.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Oboe’s hair bristled.

“No!!” She said. “You can’t use your magic on him!”

“I don’t think they mean any harm,” Percy said. “I should at least hear them out.”

There was too many of them. They were drawn to the Fates like moths were to flame. Someone was going to enchant the prince if she didn’t protect him. “I need you to trust me!” Before the ravenous mob could object, she picked prince Percy up, tucked him under her arm, and ran.

Percy fought, trying to squirm out of her grip. She managed to get a good distance before he pulled himself free. She stumbled, winded, and looked back.

“What’s your problem?!” Percy stomped toward her. “Those fairies were offering to help me!”

Oboe tried to catch her breath. “Percy, you have to promise you won’t let any creature touch you! They’re trying to take advantage of you!”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid! I’ve studied the fey. Did you stop to think that maybe this is what I want? I want my life to change! Being enchanted might be exactly the answer I’m looking for!”

“The boy has a point,” someone said. Oboe looked down and realized the gnome was clinging to her ankle. She shook him off.

“The human wants to be enchanted, and any fairy with any sense stands to profit by helping him.” He got to his feet. “Everyone benefits.”

“What can you offer me?” Percy said.

“I’m Archie. I can grant wishes,” he stuck out his hands and wriggled his fingers, “but each one comes with a tragic and ironic curse!”

Percy glanced back at Oboe. “Well, at least he’s up front about it.”

Oboe grabbed Archie and crammed him into a shrub. “This is what I’m talking about!! You need to be careful! A fairy might stick you with some wicked magic! You might get hurt! There’s no telling what could happen!”

“What about you?” Percy said. “Aren’t you a fairy too?”

“The faun is no better.” Fern appeared, trudging closer, casting a shadow over them. “She pretends to be pure, but she lies. She wants to enchant you, I can see it! She thinks to take you all for herself!”

Oboe wanted to argue, but she was scared the crone was right. There was a dark part of her that ached to do it. “Shut up!” She said. “I would never enchant him!”

Percy’s eyes lit up. “But you could.” He stepped closer. “What can you do? What kind of magic could you use on me?”

Oboe shrank away, pressing clasped hands against her pounding heart. “N-no. There’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. I won’t.”

Fern growled. “My lord, do not play this hussy’s game. Come, let us talk of what I can do for you!”

“Oboe,” Percy said. “What kind?”

She closed her eyes. “I… I was born with transformation magic. I can change myself and other creatures into animals.”

Percy laughed. “Then that’s perfect! I don’t have to wait to escape my father! Just turn me into something else and they will never find me!”

“No!” Oboe felt like she was going to burst. “I can’t do that! Changing humans is illegal! I can’t ever do that again!”

“Why does it matter?” Percy said. “Helping me is already a crime. I know you’re worried someone will hurt me with magic, but…” He was a breath away from her face. “I know I can trust you. …And you want to help me, right?”

Oboe’s vision was swimming. “Yes, but…” The Fates knotted around Percy were pulsing. There was so much of it, and it seemed to fill her every sense. It had been so long since she had transformed anything other than herself. Her body was screaming for her to do it.

“Then do it! I don’t care about the law! I’m sick of being a prince! I want to be something, anything else!”

“Whoa, hold on!” Archie said, struggling to climb out of the shrub. “Maybe don’t commit to anything before you hear more about my offer!”

It was unbearable. Oboe slumped back against a tree and Percy took hold of her hand.

“Please.”

“Wait!” Fern shouted. “No!”

Oboe tried to resist, but felt herself give in. A surge of magic, years of it all stopped up inside her, burst out of her in a wave of unbridled pleasure.

“No!” Oboe wailed. It was too late. The magic enveloped the prince in blinding light. “No, no, no, no, no!!”

The gross fishman threw his spear down in frustration. “What do you mean we can’t have a war?!” His name was Muck. He was the size of a boulder and the IQ of one too. The other fish people appointed him the leader on account of him being the biggest.

Theodore stood waist deep in Moss Tub Lake, wearing hip waders and trying his best to stay patient. “Civil war between citizen tribes is forbidden by the crown. Tell your men to stand down and desist with any further aggression.”

Muck flared his neck-fins, sneering. “Why should we?!”

Theodore sighed. This ‘war’ had sparked when insults exchanged between the fish people and the trolls got out of hand. Now he was dealing with two tribes of petulant children.

 “The long answer is that our society subscribes to the belief that all citizen species are entitled to life, and thus the government has set up a system of to punish citizens who threaten social stability. The short answer is zoning regulations. You’d be fighting too close to the capital.”

A goldfish might’ve offered a more convincing look of comprehension.

“Killing is bad,” Theodore said. “Don’t kill the trolls, even if they’re mean.”

Muck looked at the trolls who were making mocking gestures from the far shoreline. “I would like to kill them, though.”

Theodore placed a hand on the creature’s shoulder. “I know you do. But sometimes you just can’t get what you want.”

Stroking his chin, Muck tried to wrap his head around this. “We’re really good at fighting. We can kill them anyway.”

Theodore flipped open his citation booklet and began filling in numbers. “If you do, you’re looking at a very steep fine.” He offered the slip for consideration.

Muck stood, contemplating the exact price of war. He glanced back at his ragtag army and bellowed. “Too expensive! War is canceled for now! Everyone! go home!”

There were shouts of disappointment among the ranks, but one by one they dived back into the depths of the lake. Muck turned around. “It will take some time to save up. We will let you know.”

“Wonderful,” Theodore said through clenched teeth. “Behave yourselves.”

Theodore plodded towards the shore and saw yet more creatures waiting there for his help including the geese, a few sylph fairies, a griffin, even more gnomes, and a tree nymph. They assaulted him with requests before he had a chance to struggle out of his hip waders.

Tuning out the noise, Theodore allowed himself to feel how exhausted and sore he had become. He fantasized, just for a moment, about filing cabinets, midterm exams, and post-graduate dissertations.  This work was so far from the life he’d planned for himself. He envied the prince, who would soon escape to a life of his choosing.

“Alright.” Theodore broke himself from his revelry. Even if this wasn’t what he planned, he still had a duty to perform. He took a deep breath. “Who’s next?”

The prince was gone. His body was swallowed by light and he burst free in the shape of a great hawk. His clothes fell away in a heap. Oboe was blinded with a joy that gave way to horror. She watched, speechless, as the prince took flight, disappearing into the folds of the Whirl.

“I knew it!” Fern said, shoving Oboe to the ground. “You greedy, selfish little brat! You took him for yourself!”

“No, I…” she was still muddled. None of this seemed real. “I didn’t mean to… No!”

“Don’t lie to me, you weedling! I saw the look on your face!” She spat. “Such rapture to twist his body with your magic. After all that rubbish about protecting the human you prove yourself wicked!”

Oboe didn’t know what to do. Her euphoria had turned into a wrenching queasiness. She needed help. She needed to get Theo, tell him what happened. He would know what to do.

No, there was no way she could do that. He would be mad, or worse, disappointed. He had trusted her, something no one else had ever done. Everything was ruined. The humans forbade transmogrification magic. Theo might arrest her. Maybe he should. Only wicked fairies broke enchantment law.

“Say something!” Fern throttled Oboe, who was all but limp. “You think you can get away with this?! I NEEDED that enchantment and you stole it from me!”

“Let go of me!” Oboe said, pushing free. She rose on shaky knees. The crone gave Oboe a glare that left her feeling bare and hairless.

“I’ll tell the humans what you did!” Fern said. “Transforming the heir into a hawk! They’ll come for you! Take you away and chop your head off with an iron axe! That will show you to steal from me!”

Oboe did not know what to do. She transformed into a rabbit and darted away, running and running until she found a dark gully to hide in.

Her heart pounded. Everything was wrong. She could not stop crying. Turning into a worm helped because worms didn’t have tear ducts.

How long would it take for the humans to find her? Would they really kill her? Fear squeezed her heart. Maybe Percy had the right idea. Escape. Disappear. Leave the Whilrwood and go where no one could find her. 

No. That wasn’t right. She’d broken the law but that didn’t mean she wanted be wicked. Oboe changed back into herself and got up. Theo needed to know what happened. She owed him that much. He’d know what to do, even if it meant she had to be executed.

Theodore gaped. “THESE are your eggs?”

The massive, man sized speckled eggs were lodged in a shallow mire of mud. Pip the magpie swooped to land on the one in front of him.

“Definitely, yeah. The missus lays them big. Guess they fell out of the nest and down the hill!”

Theodore massaged his brow. “How am I supposed to move these…? They’re huge!”

“Roll ’em. Don’t worry, they’re tougher than you’d think.”

Theodore pulled up his sleeves. He supposed there was nothing else to it. He marched out into the marsh and got to work. It took a great deal of slipping and grunting to dislodge them one by one onto solid ground. By the end of it he was sore, covered in mud, and worried about what else the Whirlwood creatures had in store for him.

“Thanks chief,” Pip said. “I’ll get the wife to do the rest. I think you should see to that lady over there next.”

Theodore wiped the sweat from his brow with a muddy arm. “Who are you-“

He saw Oboe. It took him a moment to realize because something was different. Her short nubby horns had grown thick and long, curling up back behind her head. She was taller too. Somehow her whole body had gotten bigger. But something was wrong. She was red-eyed from crying and looked miserable.

“Oboe?” He said. “Are you okay?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Theo, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I did it! I promised you I wouldn’t and I did it anyway and now I don’t know what to do! I’m sorry!!”

“What’s going on? Why are you here? Where’s Perceval?”

Theodore reached out, only to have her pull away. Pip took this as a cue to leave.

“I enchanted the prince!” She said. “He kept pushing me to do it and I broke down! I’m sorry!”

“What?!” He was beside himself. “How could you do that?!”

Fresh tears welled up. Oboe sobbed into her hands and Theodore felt ashamed for snapping at her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” It was not, but he moved close to soothe her. “Can you reverse it? Where is he?”

“I don’t know!” Her breathing grew quick and shallow. “He turned into a bird and flew away! I don’t know where he went! He could be anywhere!”

Theodore froze. He forced himself to think it through. “He wanted to escape anyway. Maybe this is okay? It’s better that you enchanted him than someone who might have hurt him. He pressured you to do it, right? Perhaps this is how it should be.”

“No!” Oboe yelled. “Theo, this is NOT okay! I broke a promise! I’m a wicked fairy! A criminal! My magic is against the law and I used it anyway! I have to fix this!”

 He pressed a finger to his lips, worried some creature might hear. She was right. She’d broken the law. Anti-transmogrification laws stopped criminals and spies from eluding capture and made sure individuals were held accountable for breaking the law. If any other creature had done this Theodore would expect them to face judgement before the court Justice. But enchanting royalty was too grave a crime. Theodore was terrified of what would happen to Oboe.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll fix it. We’ll find the prince together. But we need to stay calm and come up with a plan. Can you show me where he flew off from?”

Oboe nodded, choking back a sob. She hurried off and he followed. Theodore prayed that work could wait long enough for him to find the prince.

Time was precious. There was no telling where the prince had gone but the longer they waited the greater the risk they wouldn’t find him again. Theodore tried to keep up with Oboe as she rushed down the trail.

“I can’t believe I did this,” she said. “I promised grandmother I wouldn’t. I promised! I’m terrible. Wicked! Awful and wicked! This is all my fault!”

“You’re not wicked,” Theodore repeated. Keeping her calm was the only thing keeping him calm. “We’ll make it right. It’s going to be okay.”

She stopped. There was something in the middle of the road blocking their path. A strange, pointy iron sculpture covered in runes.

“What?” Oboe said. “What in the world is that thing?”

Theodore realized too late it was a trap. The runes lit up and the machine let out a high-pitched shriek. A translucent wall sprang up and formed around the clearing. A dome of gridded magic light closed over their heads, sealing them inside.

“It won’t stop screaming!” Oboe said, plugging her ears.

 Theodore spun, looking for a way out. He took a stone from the ground and tossed it into the barrier. The rock burst in a shower of sparks.

Knights charged out from hiding, drawn by the sound of the alarm. Each of the knights aimed a crossbow loaded with magic infused iron bolts. One shot from one of those could kill all but the most powerful of fairy.

“Turn it off!” Someone shouted, and the alarm faded. “What have we found?”

Knight Detective Conrad Whitechain marched onto the scene. He waved a runed baton in front of the barrier and a gap opened up for a moment, just wide enough for him to pass. 

“Ranger Deputy Grayweather…? And our target?” Conrad was startled to see them together. “What’s going on here?”

Theodore itched with panic. They were in serious trouble. How could he explain this without incriminating them both? He wracked his brain, but before he could think of something Oboe spoke up.

“He caught me,” she said. “The deputy was bringing me to you for punishment.”

Theodore’s eyes went wide. What was she doing?

“Is this true?” Conrad said. “You found the faun on your own?”

“I…” Theodore felt things spinning out of control. “She matched the description you gave me. I meant to bring her in for questioning. There’s no evidence yet that she’s the culprit. We should not jump to conclusions.”

“No.” Oboe said. “I used my magic on the prince. I turned him into a bird and he flew away. I’m the one you want.”

Theodore wanted to scream at her to stop. It was too late. He couldn’t say anything without making himself an accomplice.

“You admit this?” Conrad said, surprised. “Freely?”

“I did a bad thing,” Oboe said, hanging her head. “What’s the point in denying it?”

“I see,” Conrad said. “Your contrition may yet save your life, faun. Surrender yourself to the crown’s forces and there may be mercy.”

Oboe held out her arms. Conrad clasped a pair of iron shackles around her wrists. He struck the machine with his baton and the barrier evaporated. The Knights of the Hunter took hold of Oboe. She looked back at Theodore and offered a wilting smile before they hauled her away.

“I’m impressed, Grayweather,” Conrad said, as they both watched Oboe being marched off. “We received a tip that the faun was seen in this area, but you beat an entire search team to the punch.”

“What will you do with her?” He was afraid of the answer.

“We will detain her for questioning. There will be a trial, and likely an execution, but if she discloses information leading to the prince being returned, we can bargain for a deferred sentence.”

Theodore’s voice dried up. What could he do? Conrad clasped a hand on his shoulder.

“Good work. You are living up to your family’s name. I shall see that you are rewarded.”

The knights took Oboe away. They bound her with magic chains and marched her toward the city under heavy guard. Theodore watched, helpless, as he was left behind to stew. He had no idea how to find the prince and no idea how help Oboe.

He needed sleep. Instead he paced the cottage, sorting and resorting documents with shaking hands, and worried about his friend. The mercy Conrad promised meant little. Enchanting a member of the royal family was as bad as an assassination. At best, Oboe could hope to spend decades locked in the city dungeon. The thought made him feel lonelier than he expected. He had grown accustomed to her company.

Perceval’s cloak sat in a crumpled heap on the floor. Theodore stuffed it into a desk drawer and locked it, grateful to spot it before anyone else. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if he was implicated.

Theodore needed to find the prince. A royal pardon was Oboe’s best chance of surviving this. Maybe Perceval would come home if he knew Oboe’s life was at stake. But how was Theodore supposed to find him? Oboe turned him into a bird and he didn’t even think to ask what kind. There were thousands of birds in the Whirlwood and this one wouldn’t want to be found.

If he could get inside the dungeon to talk to Oboe she could tell him where to start looking. That was a plan. He could do this. He just needed to stay calm and think things through.

There was a knock at the door. More needy creatures here to beg for help. Theodore growled and flung the door open. “I don’t have time for you! Take care of your own problems and leave me alone!”

The messenger shielded himself with the scroll he was carrying. He wasn’t expecting anyone to scream at him.

“Ah.” Theodore was embarrassed. “I apologize.”

There was no mistaking this man for a creature. He was dressed in puffy maroon pantaloons with matching epaulettes. The plumage off his hat dangled halfway to his waist and he carried a bugle horn. It was strange to see a royal messenger this far from the city. Normally everything came by courier bird.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” Theodore said. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us now.” The messenger smoothed out the scroll and handed it over. It was sealed with wax stamped with the sigil of a crown. Before Theodore could open it, the messenger cleared his throat to blow a brief fanfare on his horn.

“You are henceforth summoned to appear before the benevolent King Xavier Stonewall, ruler of all the lands of Laien, the divinely chosen by the Mother of Magic, and anointed steward of the earthly affairs of man, feral, ghast, and fey.”

“Summoned?!” Theodore tore open the document to see. “Why? What could the king want with me? Have I done something wrong?” Had the king somehow learned of his involvement with the prince’s escape?

“I don’t write the decrees, I just deliver them.” The messenger rubbed his nose. “If I were you, though, I wouldn’t sit on this too long. The big guy isn’t known for his patience. May he reign eternal, et cetera.”

The messenger sauntered off, leaving Theodore with the summons. The document was clear: He was to present himself to the palace immediately to stand before his king.

Theodore was horrified when he caught a glimpse of his reflection off a polished suit of armor. He was caked in mud, his hair was unkempt, and there were dark bags under his eyes. It was only after rushing all the way to the palace that he realized his appearance was a disaster. He’d been running nonstop for days and could not guess when he’d last bathed. Somehow, he was so addled and caffeinated that he failed to think about grooming himself until minutes before meeting the most powerful man on the continent.

Shame turned to desperation. He searched the antechamber for some way to avoid disgracing himself and his king. There was nothing but artisan furniture and windows overlooking sweeping views of the capital. He eyed an aquarium, and checking to be sure he was alone, wet his hands to try and wash the mud from his skin. The water left his fingers sticky and green with film.

The door opened. Theodore spun around with his hands up. A dignitary entered, dressed in the highest court fashion: All silk mantles, sashes, and dangling ribbons in bright clean burgundies. He stared at Theodore in rapt shock.

“Ah! Hello!” Theodore tried to wipe his hands off on his shirt, and left an enormous stain. “Er, you must be Chamberlain Greenveil.” He thought better of offering his hand to shake. “I’m Ranger Deputy Grayweather, reporting as requested.”

The chamberlain furrowed his brow, even more mortified than before. “Grayweather? Then… you’re the son of—”

“Yes,” Theodore said, annoyed. He retied his hair back, praying it was tidy enough to escape exile. “The King summoned me. Is it time for me to be seen or not?”

Greenveil composed himself. “His grace has finished his treatment. He will be ready to receive you momentarily.” He gestured toward the door. “This way, if you would.”

Theodore followed him down the ornate palace hallways, lined with historic portraiture of kings past. Dramatic scenes of hunting expeditions, pouring over maps of battlefields alongside advisors on the eve of battle, the heroic signing of new laws and decrees to renew order, and the ascension of heirs met by the bows of humans, ghast, fairy, and feral alike.

The Chamberlain ushered him into a side passage. Theodore expected to see the throne room, a grand and cavernous hall large enough to house the extended family of the entire royal court. Instead, he was surprised to find a small white room devoid of decoration. A crowd of healers in green robes hurried to clean the room, collecting soiled utensils, medicines bottles, and bloody rags.

The smell hit Theodore hardest. A mix of old age, sick, antiseptic, and spent magic. He moved through the bustle to find a hospital bed where a shriveled old man was lying in a paper gown. A pair of nurses were helping to maneuver him over a bedpan.

“Give him a moment,” they said.

There was pained groans. Theodore meant to look away, but before he processed the moment he watched King Xavier Stonewall void his bowels.

It was the king. Theodore didn’t believe it at first but there was no mistaking the face. His body was so small and frail though, nothing like how he looked in the paintings or newspapers. What hair remained were peppered wisps. He lacked the strength to move himself, so his attendants lifted him over, wiped him clean, and carried away the putrid mess.

“Better,” the king said. He focused his light green eyes on Theodore. “I trust you will forgive that I do not stand or sit up. These rituals take what little strength I have left.”

“Yes,” Theodore managed to say. “Of course.” He was stunned.

He dismissed the nurses. “Now then. To business.”

Theodore realized he had forgotten himself again. This was his king. He dropped to his knees, ashamed of his lack of respect.

Xavier Stonewall let out an irritated grunt. “Stand up,” he said. “You just watched me shit in a bed. Do not pretend otherwise.”

Theodore reluctantly got back up. “You summoned me, your grace.”

“I did. The Knight Detective had much to say about you. I suspect he might be smitten. Regardless, it is only right that I thank you personally for your role in apprehending the creature who laid a hand on my son.”

Theodore was relieved to learn he had not been discovered. “I did only my duty,” he said. The words tasted bitter. He deserved no praise. He aided the prince’s escape and stood by while Oboe was captured.

“Normally there would be a ceremony,” the King said. “But you can guess at why I’ve lost my taste for them.”

Theodore looked over the Kings’s emaciated body. “Is it a deficit of magic?” He wondered if this was the same illness he had seen at the university. “Dr. Stillwell has made breakthroughs with the epidemic.”

“Young man, the only affliction of which I am suffering is the one for which there is no cure: Time.”

Chamberlain Greenveil re-entered the room. Theodore was startled to see the man had acquired a black eye in the span of a few minutes. “Sire, the diplomats from Feymire are growing belligerent. They are insisting you hear their demands now.”

The king sighed. “Summon the guard. We won’t be bullied. They can wait a few more minutes.”

Greenveil bowed and left. The King looked back at Theodore.

“Our neighbors hope to take what we have because they know my body is failing. Normally my son would handle this, but that is not possible for obvious reasons.”

Theodore was confused. “Can’t you delegate to your vassals?”

“I would, if I were certain of who was working with whom.” The King flexed his fingers against the bed sheets. “Let me cut to the chase. I did not call you here for a pat on the back. My son is still out there, throwing his tantrum. If you are half the man your father was, I need you to drop whatever else you might be doing and locate Perceval. Your only duty, as of this moment, is to bring my son home.”

 Theodore wondered how the prince and Oboe would feel about this. Then, feeling ill, he worried Oboe may not even be around to be upset for much longer.

“The prince has been very difficult to locate,” Theodore said. “He seems intent on escaping.”

“Of course he is!” The King said. “I was the same damn way at his age.” With some reserve of strength, he strained to lift himself onto his side. “What my brat needs to learn is that this isn’t about what he wants. It is our lot in life to serve every man, woman, and beast in this country. We keep the plates spinning so the people living on them can take it for granted. I have tried my best to prepare him for this, but until he puts the needs of his citizenry before himself he will continue to play these games.”

The King slumped back into his mattress. The door opened and a parade of royal knights entered, flanking the Feymire diplomats. They were dressed in their traditional flowing robes and were grinning ear-to-ear.

“Healthy and hearty, yes Xavier? Good to see you. It has been very long, eh?”

“You have your orders,” the King said to Theodore. “Leave us. I’ve posturing to attend to.”

Theodore was escorted out by a guard. As the door closed, he wondered how often diplomats came to visit with swords hanging off their belts.

There was a twist in the hallway Theodore did not remember. He tried to retrace his steps through the palace back to the entrance and became lost instead. The sprawl of corridors seemed only to grow in complexity as he hurried. Somehow, after a few more wrong turns, he found himself in surrounded by statues. He had wandered into a sunlit courtyard filled with marble figures of Laien’s long history of rulers.

Theodore slowed to a halt, his heard pounding. He no longer knew what to do or which way to go. He promised to help Perceval escape but now the king was ordering him to retrieve him. No matter what he chose to do he was a traitor to somebody.

“Grayweather,” a voice said.

Theodore looked up. A raven peered down at him from atop a statue’s head. Sleek and black with a long sharp beak and sharper eyes.

“And you are…?” Theodore said.

“Call me Whisper.” It spoke with a woman’s voice, thick and amused. “I’ve a message for you.”

That was the same name as the raven that helped the prince escape the castle. But it couldn’t be the same one. Perceval said that raven was killed. Something else was strange. There were wards all over the palace to stop creatures and magic from entering. How did this feral get here?

“Who is this message from?” Theodore said.

“That is a secret. Suffice to say, it is someone with enough power and influence to make the message worth your consideration.” Whisper fluttered down and landed in the open palm of the statue. “Word has it that you despise your position as Ranger Deputy. How would it suit you to choose a new job for yourself? Perhaps one among the University?”

The endless parade of needy creatures had not given any love for his job. It unnerved Theodore to be told his private thoughts. “Where did you hear this?”

“Various eyes and ears,” she said. “The details are unimportant. What matters is that it appears the king has put his faith in you to return his wayward son.” Her eyes focused tight on him. “We would prefer for something else to occur. “

Theodore creased his brow. “Who’s we? What are you suggesting?”

“The king has served long and well, but his son is ill-fit to rule. It is time for new blood to take the throne. The season is ripe for change. Ensure the prince does not return and you will be well-rewarded in the new regime.”

He held back his gasp. “You are asking me to commit treason.”

Whisper cocked her head. “Would it be the first time?”

Theodore felt a cold sweat. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t be dull.” She preened herself. “Anyway. Suppose the prince cannot be found? Who can be blamed? He was always willful. There is only so much you or any of the guard can do. Nothing anyone could do, really. Perhaps it was for the best. The new ruler stands to do more for Laien than old Stonewall or his boy ever could. Seems to me the Mother of Magic fated this all from the start.”

This usurper was a manipulator trying to seize the throne. Disgust welled up inside Theodore, but so did temptation. It would be as easy as the raven said to do nothing. The prince did not want to be found, and Theodore had already compromised his ethics. All he needed to do was sit back and  everything would work out for him.

Except that Oboe was in trouble. She faced imprisonment or worse. That was the one thing that burned brightest in his mind amid all the confusion. Oboe needed help and there was only one way to save her: Bring the prince home. He could impose a royal pardon and cancel the trial. That was the answer he was looking for. He shook his head, ashamed of even considering the alternative.

“I won’t be part of your schemes!” Theodore took a swipe at the bird, who flew out of range without effort.

“Tsk. Such loyalty could be better placed!” Whisper circled overhead. “A word of warning: The new order is coming, with or without you! A position of prestige and comfort awaits should you comply. If not, we know where to find you.”

The raven rose into the air and vanished past the rooftops and archways of the palace. Were those last words a threat? It did not matter. The ‘offer’ was beyond consideration. Theodore told himself that any individual who conspired from the shadows did not deserve to rule. Whoever Whisper served, they were wise to remain anonymous. If there was any evidence he could have reported it to the king.

This was just another wrinkle in the growing task ahead. Theodore needed to find the prince, and the only person who could help was locked in a cell.