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.

Theodore descended the stairs and stepped into the chill of the city dungeon. It was a vast complex of iron hidden beneath the capital’s cobblestone streets. The entrance was bare, occupied by a few metal stools. This was the colder face of the government he served.

“Hello?” Theodore said, approaching the office window.

The silhouette of a clerk moved, obscured behind a pane of barred and tinted glass. Theodore waved to try and get their attention.

“Knight Detective Whitechain sent for me,” he said. 

There was some indiscernible muffled speaking. He or she seemed irritated.

“What?” Theodore said.

There was harsher muffled speaking. Theodore craned his ear to hear but it was no good.

“It’s about an interrogation,” Theodore said.

No reaction.

“Name of the inmate is Oboe. Last name…” Did Oboe have a last name? He knew gnomes did. Why hadn’t he ever thought to ask? “Unknown.”

The clerk walked away. Theodore waited, and waited, and began to suspect he had been abandoned. He squinted into the tinted glass and was startled by a loud, buzzing click. A vault door groaned open to reveal Conrad Whitechain.

“Ah! Theodore. There you are.” He grabbed his hand to shake. “Thank you for agreeing to assist. Everything is in order. The suspect is ready to be questioned.”

Theodore followed, the iron door thundering shut behind them. Somewhere deep in the complex a person was screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs. The voice echoed down the cramped corridors of the prison.

Conrad smirked at Theodore’s unease. “The inmates are rowdy in the morning.”

They passed rows of unoccupied cells. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place,” Theodore said. “It’s so… alienating.”

“Justice demands a price,” Conrad said. “We cannot coddle criminals. An enemy of order is a threat to society and they will be treated as such.”

Theodore might’ve agreed a few days ago. He wondered if he was destined to occupy one of these cells. “Have you learned anything?” He hoped he did not sound as anxious as he felt.

“Very little,” Conrad said. “She freely admits to the crime but refuses to tell us how to find the prince.”

“Have you had to use… force?” Theodore said.

“Torture is forbidden by the treaties, and I find it shameful, but I suspect the king will lift the ban if things turn desperate enough.”

Theodore worried. “We don’t need it. She seemed sweet tempered.”

“Don’t be fooled by an innocent façade,” Conrad said. “Keep in mind what she did. You cannot know anyone’s true character until they have been tested by danger and temptation. That’s something your father taught me.”

 This again. Theodore ground his teeth. “I believe you learned more from him than I ever did.”

Conrad chuckled. “Well, maybe I just had the ears to listen.” He looked up at the overhead lights and his eyes filled with memory. “I failed Advanced Knight Training my first time through. Came close to quitting. I was weaker than the other cadets. That was a fact.” He gave Theodore a vulnerable look. “Sir Grayweather encouraged me to keep trying. Said he had a son like me. Saw the same potential in both of us. Now I see that for myself.”

Theodore let out a snort. “My father was a stubborn fool. I’m not cut out for this sort of work. It was a mistake for them to make me Ranger Deputy.”

“Yet here we are.” Conrad opened his arms. “Every report I’ve heard says you’ve done better in the job than any deputy in decades. I see him in you. This suits you, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Theodore held his tongue. He loathed to be compared to his father, but there was no point in arguing. The detective could believe whatever he wanted so long as it helped him save Oboe. If Theodore couldn’t escape his father’s shadow, he might as well use it to his advantage.

“I suppose you’re right,” Theodore said.

Conrad grinned. “Of course I am.” He said as he unlocked the way forward.

Oboe wondered how many hundreds of years had passed since she was first sealed away. There was no way to see the sun or the passage of seasons from inside her dim, dank cell. Every moment she spent contemplating her mistakes felt like an eternity. She kept wishing a rat or spider would come by so she could have someone to talk to. Any distraction from her guilt and loneliness would be wonderful.

She sighed, lying face down on the grimy floor. She told herself not to cry.

The gears and clockwork of her cell door spun to life. Was this real? She tried to rise on shaky legs, but her chains kept her from standing. They were alive with magic, draining her brute strength and stopping her from transforming. She watched as a familiar face stepped through the doorway.

“Theo!!”

Another human followed him inside and sealed the door behind them. It was the mean little knight that arrested her. Conrad was his name? He gave Theo a funny look.

“She seems to be familiar with you.”

Theo’s eyes darted between Oboe and Conrad. “I’ve worked with her in the past.”

“I see. So, she has a record.”

Theo clenched a hand in that way he did when he was scared. “She’s never caused trouble before. She’s been an asset to the community.”

Those words would’ve warmed Oboe’s heart if it weren’t sick with guilt.

The knight searched a pocket inside his coat. “A perfect record doesn’t mean much once it’s broken. Integrity is what makes a citizen.” He produced a vial from his belt. Something bright was trapped inside. He popped the cork and a will o’ wisp escaped, darting to the ceiling. It beamed a blinding light in Oboe’s eyes. “We’ll see how much she has.”

“Faun,” the knight intoned. He was obscured by the light. “Your trial is tomorrow. Enchantment of the royal family is a grave crime, punishable by death. I don’t want that for you. It took a great deal of character to come forward, more than I see in most fey. My offer still stands. Tell us how to find the prince and I can bargain for a stay of execution.”

“I don’t know!” she said, looking away. “He flew away!”

Theo’s face peeked through the light. “You need to remember. The direction he flew in, a land mark, something. Please Oboe. You need to give us something to narrow the search. They are going to kill you unless you help us find the Prince.”

Oboe was confused. Why was Theo helping them? “Percy doesn’t want to come back!” She said. “Theo, you can’t make him! You promised!”

The knight turned. “What does she mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” Theo said. Oboe realized her mistake.

“I’m the one who broke the law,” she said. “You’re not going to punish him just cause I’m bad!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” Theo said. “He just needs to go back to his duties, then everything can be okay.”

Oboe felt betrayed. This isn’t what Theo promised to do. “No! It’s not okay!” She pulled against her chains, growing angry. “He’ll be sad if he comes back! I won’t help you! I’d rather die!!”

Conrad whistled and the will o’ wisp returned to its bottle. “You seem to think you’re doing something good by helping the prince escape. Let me give you a reality check.”

The knight fit a chainmail glove over his right hand. Reaching into a coat pocket, he produced a small ivory box. He opened it with care. Inside there was a crystal egg with a dream burning bright inside.

“What is that?” Theodore said.

“A nightmare,” Conrad said, holding the egg up with his armored hand. “More than that, I suppose. Normally, a fairy dream can be experienced only once before it fades to nothing. This one is different. It belonged to Counselor Goldsun the fourth. It is one-hundred and ten years old.”

Theodore did the math. “That means it’s as old as the Redsea Revolt.”

“Exactly,” Conrad said. He spun the egg on its cup and box lit up. A whirlwind howled out of it, and the jail filled with ghosts. Oboe twisted on the floor, startled, as the cell was transformed into an echo of the royal palace. A war room filled with men in strange but fine clothes, speaking in muffled whispers.

Theodore reached out, fascinated. His hand passed through them. “Illusions.”

“Magic projections,” Conrad said. “This dream is a living memory of what happened the last time an heir disappeared.”

The door burst inward. Soldiers poured into the room like smoke. Their shields bore the sigil of a red tidal wave. The ghosts panicked, trying to flee. Oboe yelped as she watched a sword carve through, spraying blood colored ash into the air.

The scene gave way to fire. The city streets of the capital, burning gold in the black night. Wails and screams sounded in the distance, while smoky knights stormed the streets and cut through militiamen, women and children. Their bodies slumped to the ground beside Oboe.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “Why are you making me look at this?!”

“The king was dead,” Conrad said. “The heir was gone. For six months Laien was consumed by civil war. The throne was empty, and the ambitious fought for control.”

The vision shifted. Bodies swung from gallows erected in the scorched streets. Carts heavy with the dead were hauled away on creaking wheels, while phantoms in ragged clothes hammered and laid bricks to rebuild.

“The Stonewall Militia restored order,” Conrad said. “But only after many died in the fighting.” The Knight Detective stopped the egg from spinning with a finger. The projections shrank back into the dream, and they stood again in the dungeon. “Counselor Goldsun was haunted by this nightmare for decades, until he paid to have it surgically removed. But that didn’t change the reality of what happened.” Conrad took off his hat. “Oboe, I don’t want to risk this happening again. Help us find the prince so it doesn’t.”

Oboe was quiet. She stared at him with pursed lips, her eyes fierce. “A bunch of humans fought a long time ago. You want Percy to come back so they don’t fight again. That’s not fair. It’s not Percy’s fault if humans fight! Percy doesn’t want to be king!”

“Oboe, wait,” Theodore said. She was being hasty. “The Knight Detective has a point. A lot of people could get hurt. We should consider what’s best for everyone. Please, you need to help us find the prince.”

“No!” Oboe kicked against her chains. “This is stupid! Percy deserves to live free! Don’t you think that, Theo?! Why are you helping this guy??”

Theodore tightened his fingers. The gallows were still fresh in his mind. “If you don’t help, you’re going to be executed!”

“I don’t care!” Oboe said. “Percy is my friend! You can’t just take his happiness away! It’s not right! Humans can figure it out without him!”

Conrad growled. “If you are so intent on dying then be our guest! We will find the prince, with or without you.” He turned to Theodore. “Let’s go. There’s no reasoning with this beast.”

 Theodore lingered as Conrad opened the cell door. Oboe looked away, her face stiff and angry. She was right, but so was Conrad. He tried to find the right words to convince her, to save her. She didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t fair.

“Come on!” Conrad said.