Oboe winced at the healer’s glowing touch. The pain in her shoulder was numbed to a faint reminder, and then the human stitched the hole.

“You’re sure she’s not wicked?” He said.

“Oboe is one of us!” Theo said, pointed. It was the third time he vouched for her. “Just help her.”

The healer dressed the wound with salve and bandages. “That should do. Try not to do anything strenuous for a while, and you’ll be okay.”

Oboe wasn’t sure she could make any promises. Thistle was already going to be mad at her for transforming. She’d popped her hand wrappings again by changing shape, and the burns on her hands still hadn’t healed. It didn’t matter. Beira was still out there, scheming, and that meant the whole kingdom was in danger. “Thank you,” she said.

The ice dripped. She helped Theo and the knights collect the dead and dying throughout the farming village. On the edge of the manor yard, a handful of creatures the humans had captured were chained up. They cursed and shouted about revenge and never shut up. These were the sorts of fairies the knights knew best. It made Oboe wish the humans would just kill them too, at least until she noticed the pity in Theo’s face. Oboe reminded herself that those fairies had loved ones and families. No matter how stupid they were being, this was still a tragedy.

The bodies were lined up. Ten mutilated humans, and almost as many fairies. A knight marched up the row of the dead, waving a censer smoking with sweet smelling spices. He sung, wordless, hanging on long aching notes. Oboe didn’t understand the ritual, but it made her feel grateful he did this for the creatures too. Maybe the Mother would forgive them.

“Oboe,” Theo said. There was quiet now as everyone watched the ceremony. “…We should talk. About what happened before.”

It was true. “Not now,” she said, standing next to him.

They listened to the song, until it was cut short. More than a hundred knights came marching into the village. Their shiny armor clattered, drowning out everything else. They wore capes, and fancy helmets, and looked so much larger than the battered team of watchmen that had saved the village. In front of them all was a mean little knight with a big stupid feathered hat.

“Where is the commanding officer?” Conrad Whitechain said. “Report!”

Fritz shuffled out into the open. His hand was pressed against his bandaged side. A hint of red stained through. His hair was ruffled, and there was still a smear of blood on his face.

“Danger’s over. Beat the bastards back, but it cost us.” He waved at the line of bodies. “Civilians are confirmed safe. Their homes aren’t doing so great, though. Creatures used storm magic, and it’s hurt the harvest bad.” He sucked air through clenched teeth. “Gonna be a hard winter.”

“This is unacceptable,” Conrad said, surveying the carnage. “We have most of the Watch and two knight orders assigned to the valley, and these creatures are still out of control!”

Theo stepped forward. “The Watch isn’t at fault. This was a plot.”

Conrad’s eyes fell on Theo and Oboe. He pushed a handful of fingers into his own face, bottling a tired laugh. “Grayweather,” he said. “How is that whenever something goes wrong, it is always you I find at the center?”

“Shut up!” Oboe stomped up to face him. The men at his side drew their swords, but Oboe didn’t care. “Theo came to warn everybody! He’s the reason the village is saved!”

Conrad turned his head to look at the icy crop fields. “I suppose some of it still stands.” He resumed glaring at them. “Your foresight is as convenient as it is peculiar. Rest assured that once there is time to investigate, I will tear down the veil and show everyone what you truly are.”

“Hey detective,” Fritz said. “Not to intrude on your pissing match here, but lay off. If the Ranger Deputy hadn’t told us this was coming, we’d have lost the farmers and the crops. We got bigger problems right now.”

Conrad’s face turned grim. “You are correct, Lieutenant. This calls for drastic action. If the Watch cannot keep these creatures under control, we need to call in the royal guard. It’s clear you all are being too lax on the Circle.”

“You can’t do that!” Oboe said. “The Circle is angry and scared. If you bring in more soldiers, you’ll just make things worse!”

“What matters right now is order is restored. If the Fairy Council cannot control its people, then it’s time we stepped in and trained them to be loyal and obedient.” He threw an arm out at the farm. “We cannot allow things like this to happen!”

“Listen to me, Conrad,” Theo said. “The one that led this attack is a unicorn called Countess Beira Stormbreak. She’s a Red Cap sympathizer, a radical. She did this to provoke a war, and if the crown responds this way then we are doing exactly what she wants!”

“If I wanted the advice of a traitorous liar, Grayweather, I would’ve asked for it.” Conrad straightened his gloves. “The king cannot tolerate this. I will speak with him directly and we will respond appropriately.”

“She wants us to get angry,” Oboe said. She felt hot, thinking of how Beira tricked her at the council. “That’s not the answer. We should be calm, and careful, and smart. That’s the only way we can save the Circle.”

“Fuck the Circle!” Fritz said. He pointed at a dead knight on the ground. “You see that? That’s Jeremy. He’s got three kids. Suzy, Ryan, and Anne. What do you think is going to happen to them? Who do you think has to tell his wife about this?! If fairies are going to pull shit like this, they deserve whatever is coming to them!”

Oboe held his gaze, not knowing what to say. She saw grief in his eyes under the screaming. She wondered what to do.

“I want platoons two and three to stay here and keep guard,” Conrad ordered. “Everyone else, back to the capital! The King will decide what happens now.”

“Why are you listening to him?!” Perceval said. “You’re going to start a war!”

The King of Laien kept his head bowed. He did not open his eyes. “This is a holy place. You will keep your mouth shut.”

Theodore waited, and watched. A bell rang across the chapel and the whole cathedral vibrated with the lingering hum. This was how the prince managed to get Theodore face-to-face with King Stonewall. In the letter, Perceval explained that his father came to the Mother’s sanctuary to pray whenever vexed or in need of guidance. The attack on North Manor more than qualified. If Perceval came with his father, and Theodore happened to be waiting ahead of them, the prince was sure they could make his father listen.

The priest circled the balconies of the upper floor, shuffling to each of the eight bells in turn for what felt like an eternity. One would ring, and the congregation would murmur another verse of prayer. The prince seethed, waiting for it all to finish, glaring murder at his father until the last bell was struck. He did not wait for the ringing to fade.

“I trust what Theo is telling us,” Perceval said in a hiss. “If you do what Conrad proposes, you won’t be stopping a revolt, you’ll be creating one!”

King Stonewall bent down and reached with his thinning arms to turn his wheel chair to look at the two of them. He wore only a simple dressing robe and his crown. His face was drawn, unimpressed with his son’s bluster, and weary from a lifetime of weathering disaster. He took his time to respond.

“Knight Detective Whitechain is the first in line to become the next Hero Champion. He is one of the few members of my cabinet who have proven unfailingly reliable.” The king seemed smaller then when Theodore had seen him last. His skin was port marked, and he had lost all but the last of his hair. What had not changed was the certainty in his voice. “You could stand to learn something from him.”

“I agree, your majesty. Conrad is fastidious with all he does.” Theodore needed to be careful. He was standing here thanks only to the prince, and they were one wrong word away from losing this chance. “However, he does not understand the reality of what is happening in the Fairy Circle. This alliance is hanging on by a thread. If we seize control of their government, we will destroy what trust we have left.”

“So I ought to listen to you instead.” The King sighed. “Young man, the detective has many alarming things to say about you. I have allowed you to continue running around because I am grateful that you somehow convinced my son to return. Do not mistake that for trust.”

“Theo is innocent! Conrad is blaming him for my mistakes!” The prince said, drawing attention from the crowd. There were only a handful of others in the ring of worship, but they were transfixed.

“The Court will decide.” The King rolled his wrist towards the heavens. “If he is guiltless, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

Perceval clawed at his hair. “You aren’t listening! I know Theo can fix this situation, but you don’t believe me! You’d rather just let everything fall apart!! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

“Percy.” Theodore held his hands up to calm him. “Please don’t.”

“Because you are a spoiled child who assumes he already knows everything,” the King said, turning his wheelchair away. “We are done here.”

Royal knights moved in to escort them out. Theodore felt a rush of panic. Percy charged his father and wrenched the wheel chair back to face him.

“Why are you like this!?” He said. “Did you even look at the reports I sent to you?! Theo stopped the Red Caps! The creatures adore him! If anyone can help us right now, it’s him!”

“I said we are done. We will discuss this later.”

“Devil damn you, old man! I hate you!”

Theodore’s eyes darted. The bystanders witnessed the scene with shock and amusement.

“I won’t have you cause a scene here of all places.” The King glanced at the guards. “Return him to his room.”

The knights pulled both Perceval and Theodore from the chapel. They dumped Theodore at the foot of the cathedral steps, but before they could escort him away, Perceval yanked his shoulders free of their hold.

“I need to talk to him,” he said. “Two minutes.”

The commanding officer folded his arms. “Be quick about it.”

Perceval rejoined Theodore under the shadow of the royal knights.

“Stubborn old bastard,” the prince said, kicking a stray stone in the road. “Can you believe this?”

Theodore stared. His mind had been somewhere else, drifting back to the last time he had seen his father. He remembered the argument they had parted ways with. Perceval’s anger reminded him of his own, and it seemed so much more childish seen from outside.

“It’s not easy for you to talk to one another.”

“No.” He said, sneering. “What tipped you off?”

Sitting down on the steps, Theodore looked into space. “You’re both angry, and you’re both frustrated. So, it always ends up like this. With screaming.”

“It wouldn’t have to scream if he would just hear me out! If he cared at all!”

Theodore shook his head. “I think he cares. Maybe too much. He wants you to be the best you can be. He wants to make sure you’re ready. But he doesn’t understand, because you can’t talk.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? It’s always been like this! He never listens, and treats me like an idiot! There’s nothing I can do!”

Maybe there was something. Theodore wondered what he would do, if he had another chance to talk to his father. “Maybe… I don’t know. If you could show you hear him first. Let him know. Trust him when he says he’s trying to do the right thing. Forgive him.”

“Why should I?” The prince said. “He’s the one who’s in the wrong!”

“He doesn’t have to be right,” Theodore said. “You can forgive him anyway. Try to be the first to listen. See if you can make what you have work, even if it’s not much. Maybe there’s a chance.” He paused. “But it’s too late now. It’s too late.” Lance was gone.

The prince went quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Theodore said. He stood up, fixing himself in the present. “This is your affair, not mine. I have work to do.”

“Father won’t listen to us. Conrad is readying an army. What are you going to do?”

Theodore looked out across the city, out toward the Whirlwood. “Oboe has an idea.”

The Whirlwood sanctuary was full. Rows of creatures from all over the valley squeezed together on the seats of the amphitheater. Oboe watched from a distance, beneath the shade of the trees, and wondered how big a mistake she was making.

“It’s time,” Gardner Feather said. “I rang the chimes. If any more are coming, then we do not have room for them. Go and speak.”

The restless rumbling of the crowd washed over Oboe, and a tide of doubt came in. “This is stupid,” she said. “They aren’t going to listen to someone like me. You should be the one to talk to them.”

Feather waved a gentle palm. “This was your idea, young blossom. I called these creatures here because I believe you will avert catastrophe, but I cannot speak for you. They need to see a warrior, not a priestess.”

Oboe had never thought of herself as a warrior. She looked at the bandages on her hands and shoulder, and supposed it had happened without her realizing. Maybe if life had gone differently, she would have become a spriggan for the Circle. That wasn’t her first choice. She’d rather be a knight like Theo. The good sort of knight who tried to protect everyone, like her tutors taught her about. The thought made her feel brave again, and strong. She clenched her fists.

“I’m ready.”

A hush fell over the sanctuary as Feather and Oboe walked out into the sacred flowerbed. Oboe looked up at the countless faces around her, ghasts, fairies, and ferals, and swallowed the last of her fear.

“We have to take action,” she said. “If we don’t, the friendship we have with the humans and with one another will be torn apart.”

“What the hell is this?” A brown furred werewolf stood up. “Gardner! I came here because you rang the chime!” He held out a small bell on a string. “Why are you letting this nameless faun speak in the Mother’s sanctuary?!”

“Because this is important!” Oboe said, before Feather could speak. “Countess Beira wants to start a war. She’s tricked the humans, made them so angry they’re going to fight the Circle. If that happens, we can’t go back!”

An elder gnome climbed up the horns of an elk. “I know about you! You killed the Fair Lady! You were punished for using illegal magic on a human! Why should we listen to someone wicked like you?! You don’t belong in this valley!”

A murmuring filled the sanctuary. Oboe spoke over it.

“You’re right. I don’t belong here!” The creatures stopped talking. “My whole life, you all hated me. I made stupid mistakes, and I never got to belong anywhere.” An anger flickered inside her, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. “But the Whirlwood is still my home! I tried not to care, but I do. I’m not going to let my home be torn apart!”

“You want us to stop a war with the humans.” A leshy, wood skinned with a mop of willow leaf hair, sat in the front row and bounced his long and gnarled knee, mulling over what was said. “Why should we? The humans don’t care about us. They ban us from the city. They deny us jobs. Maybe a war is what we need.”

Oboe tried to breathe. She was losing them, but she had to stay calm. “No. You’re right. Things have been bad. That doesn’t mean they can’t get better. The Ranger Deputy is trying. He’s a human that cares. We’ve all seen that!”

The crowd lightened. There was agreement about this.

“So, what?” The werewolf said. “They fired him. It doesn’t matter now. Just goes to show the rest of them are trash.”

“Theo can’t do this by himself!” Oboe said. “He’s just one human, but he’s proof that there’s good ones! Just like there’s good creatures, and wicked ones too! I killed the Fair Lady because she was bad! If you knew her, you knew the truth! Nothing will change if we let the wicked do what they want!”

She stepped closer, eyes forward. “Tomorrow, Theo is going to stand up for the Fairy Circle to try and stop a war from happening. He’s a good creature. I want to think all of you are good creatures too. I want to believe you all won’t just stand back when this country falls apart. The kingdom of Laien is strong because, a long time ago, we all agreed to stop fighting and to work together! We believed things could be better than they were! They still can!”

No more objections rang out. The crowd sat in rapt silence. Feather smiled, head bowed.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to stand with Theo,” Oboe said. “If you believe in him, and still believe in what Laien could be, I want you to stand with us. Show this country there are good creatures who won’t let it all fall apart. That’s what I came to ask you all today. Come to the Circle, and stand!”

The words ran out. Oboe ran out of things to say, but the crowd kept staring. The air hung heavy, and Oboe wondered if anything she said mattered.

“Damn you,” the werewolf said with a growl. “Alright! Fine! I’ll do it!”

Others stood up. “We’ll do it for the Ranger Deputy!”

“My mom is going to kill me,” a young troll said, groaning. “…Count me in!”

The greater part of the amphitheater rose, and the tide turned. Oboe looked on stunned. A cheer rang out as the creatures of the Greater Whirlwood did what she asked, swearing to stand with the Ranger Deputy.

Theodore felt the toy knight in his pocket. He needed to talk to Oboe, but never got an opportunity. She would come back to the Circle, each time bringing another handful of creatures volunteering to help, but then she would run off again to find more before the two of them could share anything but news.

He wasn’t sure she’d slept. After the first batch of creatures agreed to help, she did not stop recruiting. The crowd in the Fairy Circle marketplace swelled from a few dozen to hundreds. The tents and stalls were broken down or moved aside as bodies filled every corner, facing out towards the Whirlwood. Theodore had given up on rest, having stolen only a couple begrudging hours before giving up. He replaced proper sleep with caffeine, and threw himself into organizing.

“Will we have to fight?” Barghest the werewolf asked, holding his wife’s hand. It was a question Theodore was asked over and over again.

“I don’t want it to come to that,” Theodore told them. “But we should be ready. I won’t make you stay if that changes anything.”

“We are not cowards,” Lola said. “If you think this will work, we will help you however we can.”

Theodore thanked them, and left worrying about whether it would indeed work. Every new volunteer should have steeled his confidence. Instead he was scared. They were all risking their lives. He wanted to stop a war, not stage a battle.

“This is an army!” Knight Captain Myra Redriver said, bug-eyed when she saw the mass of creatures filling the Circle market. The knights at her command stood ready to act, but not without fear. There were far more creatures amassed here than there were human soldiers in the circle.

“It is a protest,” Theodore said. “The knight detective is coming to take over. If that happens, our alliance with the fairies will be destroyed. None of these creatures want that to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter what they want!” Redriver said. “It’s our job to follow the King’s decree!”

“It’s your job to protect the kingdom and everyone in it,” Theodore said, stepping closer. “Or have they changed the oaths of the City Watch since I last reviewed them? These creatures are citizens, and their voice matters.”

Myra met his gaze like stone. Her sword-arm still hung in a sling, still broken by the creatures of the Circle. Theodore knew she would fight him on this, she had good reason to, but he had no choice but to stand his ground. Instead, after a long moment, she looked down and the shiver of a chuckle ran up her body.

“Mother’s tits,” she said. “This is the same shit your father used to pull. Why am I even surprised?” She waved her good hand back at her men. “Alright kids! We’re done here!”

“Sir?” They lowered their crossbows.

“We’re here to keep peace,” she said, her voice commanding again. “Nothing wrong with a protest if they keep it civil. We’ll leave a few lads to keep an eye on things, but we’ve got better things to do than break this up.”

Myra lingered as her knights dispersed. She rolled her shoulders, eyeing Theodore up like they’d never met.

“If this plan of yours goes wrong…” She shook her wrist like a gambler’s dice cup. “They’ll stick both our heads in the guillotine.”

“It wouldn’t be my first time,” Theodore said.

She laughed, louder this time. She slammed a firm hand against his back, but he kept his footing. “Alright. I’ll tell my boys they’re free to join you if they’ve got the balls for it. Work another one of your miracles, Grayweather. I want to see where you’re going with this.”

Theodore did not expect any of the knights to come, but he was proven wrong. The score that came looked nervous, standing shoulder to shoulder with beasts, but were resolute. It took Theodore some effort to array the growing multitude at the entrance of the Circle.

The sky was restless and milky. Birds came to tell Theodore Conrad was coming. Starlings, finches, doves, and pigeons all brought the news in an excited panic, convinced they were the first to report it. The repeat of the news set Theodore more on edge each time. Where was Oboe?

Time was almost up. He wished he’d learned how to pray properly. It wasn’t that he believed; he had always maintained that if the Mother of Magic were real she would need to be a cosmic force so vast and abstract that She could not possibly care about the petty needs of every creature. However, seeing all the creatures come to put their faith in this plan, risking themselves with so much riding on chance, left him wanting to count on something beyond planning and guesswork, beyond an assumed goodness in his fellow man, and beyond himself. They needed all the help they could get.

“Someone’s coming!” A red plumed fury shouted from the rooftops, on lookout. Breaths were held as he adjusted his telescope. “It’s Oboe! She’s brought more!”

Theodore saw her lead a whole tribe of fish men swaggering out from the woods. They stank in the sun and squished when they walked. It was an immense relief to see her, despite the smell.

“I think that’s everybody from Moss Tub Lake,” Oboe said.

“We do not want war!” Muck, the fish men chief bellowed. “Very expensive! Too much!”

“I think you’ve brought the whole valley here,” Theodore said.

“No, I haven’t!” Oboe said, looking ragged. “There’s a whole family of badgers in Gnomes Borough who won’t even talk to me! I got a lot of ghasts to come, but there’s a lot that are too angry, and Squirrels don’t pay attention long enough to listen!”

Theodore smiled. Seeing Oboe banished the fear from his mind. As long as she was at his side, he knew they could do this. That wasn’t rational. She was just one faun, but it felt as if she was the deciding factor between success and failure. She was the difference between a war and a miracle.

“I’m gonna go make another sweep at the Twilight grotto,” Oboe said. “I don’t think I found everybody there yet.”

“There’s not enough time,” Theodore said. His cheer turned grim. “Conrad is on his way. I need you here.”

“Are you sure?” She said. “I could still try. How much time do we have?”

None. The lookout started screaming. The sound of marching grew louder. Ranks of knights in clanking iron greaves appeared from the trees and fell into formation. It was a vast number, platoon after platoon, all with a single man in a cavalier hat marching at the front. 

Five hundred knights came to a halt. The main road into the Fairy Circle was blocked, filled to overflowing with the creatures of the Whirlwood. There was nowhere for them to go.

Fireballs ignited. Great spheres of rippling flame suspended on thin candles held by mages in the vanguard. Theodore felt his allies tense behind him. Claws scraped on the cobblestone, and creatures stirred. He was afraid they would lose face, break and run. They didn’t. The line held.

Knight Detective Conrad Whitechain lifted his hand, and the fireballs shrank down. He signaled for his forces to stand back. Crossing the threshold into the marketplace alone, he marched with intent. His armor was shining, with a silvery cape trailing behind him. It was grand, noble and new where Theodore’s looked as shabby and mismatched as he felt.

Theodore and Oboe met the knight detective in the middle.

“Here you are again,” Conrad said. One eye glared up from beneath his hat. “The one constant amid this chaos. The eye of the storm.”

“Good morning, detective,” Theodore said, not wanting to be discourteous.

Conrad’s gaze drifted over the massive crowd of creatures. Countless eyes looked back, anxious.

“What is this?” He said.

“This is the Whirlwood,” Oboe said. “Everyone who was brave enough to stand up. Everyone who’s scared of what will happen if the humans invade. Everyone who wants there to be peace. This is everyone.”

Conrad sniffed. “You certainly have a way with animals, Grayweather.” He pushed his cape away from his sword hilt. “You know what this looks like to me? A revolt.”

“These aren’t soldiers,” Theodore said. “They’re civilians. This is a protest against the overthrow of the Circle government. Fairies, ghasts, and humans have enjoyed peace with one another for a thousand years. You violate the treaties by coming here to seize control. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“We are here by order of the crown.” Conrad’s nostrils flared. “I don’t know what said to trick these creatures, but you make every one of them a traitor. If you have any honor, you will tell them to disperse before you throw their lives away.”

“No!” Oboe said. “There’s more of us than there are of you! If you tear down the Circle, you’ll start a war! Creatures will get hurt! You’re the ones that need to leave!”

“We don’t want to fight,” Theodore said, trying to swallow. It was true that there were more creatures than knights, but only a fraction were trained fighters. Conrad’s men were trained and armed. A battle meant a slaughter. “This is a demonstration of the will of Laien’s people. You may be here on the King’s orders, but those orders are unjust. I want to parlay. We can find a better solution. There’s no reason to spill so much blood.”

“You’re right.” Conrad unfastened the straps of his gauntlet. “I don’t have to fight this horde you amassed. I can resolve this by spilling only a little blood.” He hurled his gauntlet down at Theodore’s feet. “A duel! You and me! To the death!”

Theodore stared at the gauntlet. “Conrad, we don’t have to do this.”

He scoffed. “I’ll show your hapless forces what you really are: A spineless, traitorous, and lying devil.” He drew his sword. “Fight me! I’ll crush you like I crushed you before and scatter your horde back to the wood! Let’s put this charade to an end!”

Theodore bent down. A knight could not refuse a challenge to duel without disgrace. He picked the gauntlet off the ground.

“Very well.”

There was no need to draw a ring. The two sides stood in wide crescents on edges of the market, almost but not quite meeting in the middle. All eyes were on the two men, and Theodore drew his sword.

“Theo.” Oboe hovered behind his shoulder. “Are you sure? Are you ready to fight him?”

He had to be. “It won’t be like last time.”

“I want to fight with you,” she said.

Conrad flicked his wrist into the air. “This is a duel, faun. No one is allowed to interfere. Perhaps it is foreign to you, but this is a matter of honor.”

Oboe did not pay any attention to him. “We’re a team. I should help you.”

 Theodore couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You’ve helped me more than anyone. You’re the reason I know I can do this. Trust me.”

She lingered another moment. The things she’d done, the example she’d set, all seemed a mystery to her. Nodding, she drifted toward the crowd. There was no doubt in her eyes, just a sorrow to part.

His sword scraped against Conrad’s as they held them up high in the air. Both held a fist to their chest as a show of respect and then stepped two paces back.

Eleven years ago, Lance Grayweather dragged his only son up into the Upside Hills to camp. The two slept on bedrolls on the rocky cliffs. Theodore remembered how the freezing wind cut right through his clothes, and how his father forced him to eat wild game for breakfast. Roast rabbit on a spit. It made him cry to know the animal was alive and happy before they came.

“You have to eat,” Lance told him. “If you’re going to be a knight, you need protein.”

Conrad came out swinging, hurling his whole being into a string of relentless slashes that Theodore watched and noted. The ox charged, but he stepped out of the way. The tail whipped, but he jumped away. The plow drove forward, hoping to tear his throat, but Theodore knew it was coming. One slash weaved into another, hungry to taste blood, but Theodore answered each strike with the counter his father had taught him.

“Why do I have to be a knight?!” Little Theo said, again and again and again.

Lance’s response changed each time, searching for the one his son would accept. This was the answer that came back to him now, the one his father had given him after an endless day of sword drills and over a burnt haunch of meat.

“People need protecting.” Lance stoked the fire. “Not everyone can be strong. Not everyone gets their voice heard. There needs to be good knights. That way it’s better for everyone.”

Conrad’s sword zigged when it should’ve zagged, and he spun to attack from the other side. Theodore fumbled to block the attack, the blades shrieking against each other as he tried to keep the edge of the detective’s blade from cutting his face.

“Are you done playing games?!” Conrad said, and kicked Theodore hard in the stomach. Staggered, Theodore found his footing in time to sidestep a piercing thrust. “I won’t let you threaten Laien! It’s not your toy! I will not let chaos reign!”

Theodore pushed forward a barrage from the roof stance. “I am not your enemy!” He said. “These creatures are not your enemy! We are all part of Laien!”

“Illegal weapons!” Conrad shouted, lunging. “The prince abducted! The duke enchanted! A Feymire invasion! Spies! The Fair Lady assassinated!”

Sweat trickled down Theodore’s face as the two danced around each other’s attacks. The indictments hung in the air, thickening it like tar and slowing Theodore’s movement.

“You were never a knight,” Conrad said, and sliced a red graze across Theodore’s cheek. He stumbled back, and Conrad pointed a cocksure sword. “Just one more lie. If Lance were alive to see what you’ve become, he would die from disgrace.”

Theodore felt the blood run down his face. His legs stiffened. He had made many mistakes as Ranger Deputy, and he couldn’t afford to be reminded of them now.

“Theo!” Oboe shouted from the edge of the crowd. “Don’t give up! You can do it!”

A cheer rose up behind her. The creatures erupted, calling Theodore’s name, an echo of Oboe that grew louder.

“I hate this,” Little Theo said to his father. “I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to fight or hurt anyone. There’s lots of other people. Why does it have to be me?”

The fog was clearing around the campsite as the sun came out, eleven years ago. Lance sat next to his son on a rain-worn rock and admired something he saw but Theo didn’t. “Knights should care about what they’re protecting. They ought to be sharp, ready to learn, should know the cost of their actions. I think you’d be good at it.”

Theodore lowered his sword, and Conrad charged. The fool stance tore a bloody scar across Conrad’s face from brow to ear and kept his ear lobe. Conrad did not stop to react, knocking Theodore’s sword back with a clang. The detective hurled himself forward with the plow, aiming to skewer Theodore, but Theodore took better aim. Conrad charged into Theodore’s sword, and was pierced through a chink in his armor. Blood spurt from the joint as he pulled away. Conrad’s sword clattered to the ground.

“Devil damn you,” he said, pulling a shard of magic from his belt. “I won’t lose to a traitor!”

The magic pulsed. Conrad thrust his arm and Theodore rolled away as a jet of flame shot from his palm. Feathery wreaths of flame reached for Theodore and scorched the arena. The crowd on both sides scrambled back in panic. Theodore leapt to escape but the flames chased him.

There was only place Conrad would not shoot fire, and that was right on top of himself. Dropping his sword, Theodore tackled Conrad to the ground and held his wrists back as flames continued to streak out, until the magic depleted and the two were left lying on the ground with the market smoldering around them.

Conrad coughed, spent. Blood pooled around his waist. “There it is, then.” His voice was a rasp. “Finish this.”

Theodore stood. His sword was within arm’s reach. The knights and the creatures all looked on, none permitted to interfere. Conrad’s eyes were still full of anger, but it was tinted by the grudge of defeat. The detective was his father’s pupil, and perhaps Lance had seen the same thing he saw in Theo. The difference between them was only a matter of experience.

“Nobody needs to die,” Theodore said, and offered his hand.

“You have to,” Conrad strained to say. “On your honor as a knight.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t a knight,” Theodore said.

A painful laugh made Conrad wince.

“We’re done here,” Theodore said. “Come on. It’s time to talk things out.”

Conrad looked confused by the offer of mercy. Whatever the detective thought Theodore was, it was not this. Theodore kept his hand held out until his opponent finally took it.

“The royal guard needs to leave,” Theodore said.

Conrad sat on the cot, fussing at the bandages at his waist. The healer slapped his hand away. After the duel, he was moved inside of one of the buildings commandeered by the watch. It was a restaurant with its tables cleared away to make room for the soon-to-be-wounded. Outside, an army of knights waited for instruction. Theodore needed to make sure they were the right ones.

“The King’s orders still stand,” Conrad said. “It doesn’t matter if you humiliate me. The Circle needs to answer for the attack on North Manor. I’ve sent word to the King about your protest, but without royal decree we cannot withdraw.”

“Then we’ll get a royal decree,” Theodore said. “A battle won’t fix anything, all it will do is make more Red Caps. The only way to truly resolve this is by talking.”

“That will be difficult.” Gardner Feather entered, arms folded in the sleeves of her white mantle. She was followed by Fife and the Tall Man. “I have news.”

Theodore braced himself. The odds of this being anything good were slim. “Tell me,” he said.

“The Titled have barricaded themselves inside the Inner Circle palace with the bulk of the spriggan,” she said.

“They expect the worst,” the Tall Man said. “No doubt Beira is fanning their fears now that the King’s army has arrived in greater force.”

“We stopped their advance!” Theodore said, flailing for something to grasp onto. “We just need to prove there is no threat!”

“The damage may already be done,” Fife said. “You halted the takeover. That’s incredible. But it doesn’t mean anything with the Titled holed up like this. They’re scared, and Beira is going to use that fear to her advantage. If she can’t coerce the council to appoint her Fair lady then she’ll push a Tournament of Titles and take power that way.”

“We can’t risk that happening,” Theodore said. Oboe had told him about the tournament. Even if Beira didn’t win, it would lead to a Fair Lady who valued strength above anything else.

“Then none of this matters,” Conrad said. “We will have to use force.”

A horn sounded in the distance and, within a few moments, Oboe came pushing and shoving through the door. “Theo!” She said. “It’s Percy!”

“What?!” Conrad said.

The group poured out into the market, with Conrad hobbling behind at the rear. The regiments of standing knights were parting to allow an entourage through. Prince Perceval, dressed in ceremonial robes, arrived flanked by royal bodyguards and foppish emissaries. The knights bowed, and the creatures gaped.

“Your grace.” Conrad groaned as he forced himself forward. He was not supposed to be walking. “Why are you here? HOW are you here?!”

“I came to address the situation in person,” he said. “I got special permission from my father.”

“You did?” Theodore was astonished. “How did you manage that?”

The prince looked like he remembered an old joke, and he sighed. “After you left, Theo, I thought about what you said. I tried talking to father afterwards, after we both calmed down. I tried to really listen to him, and all the things he worries about. This time he actually listened back. He let me come here to help.”

“You shouldn’t be here, your grace,” Conrad said. “It’s too dangerous.”

Perceval glanced at the knights that surrounded them. “Would you feel better if we’d brought another army?”

Conrad shut up. The prince gestured towards one of the royal messengers.

“Read the thing, Hubert.”

The messenger stepped forward and unfurled a scroll. “Knight Detective Whitechain, by order of the crowned prince, you will withdraw the King’s forces from the Fairy Circle and the Whirlwood. You are relieved of command of special operations and will return to the capital.”

“After you’ve recovered,” Perceval added.

“My prince, you can’t do this.” Conrad took the scroll, turning pale when he saw all the seals and signatures were in order. “We are in a state of emergency.”

“I know,” he said. “Which is why I need to put someone else in charge.” The prince swept past Conrad and approached Theodore.

“Theo,” he said. “May I borrow your sword?”

Unsure of what to say, Theodore unsheathed his sword from his hip and offered the hilt to his prince.

“Kneel,” he said. So, he did. The prince held the sword out over Theodore’s bowed head, and began to say the words.

“Theodore Grayweather, son of Lance Grayweather, and faithful servant of the land of Laien: I ask of you this oath. In the name of the Mother of Magic, will you stand for law and order within the Whirlwood Valley and all the rest of the kingdom?”

“I will,” Theodore said.

“Will you keep peace between man, ghast, fey, and feral?”

“I will,” Theodore said.

“With honor and care, will you speak for the crown among the trees, and speak for the trees before the crown?”

“I will,” Theodore said.

“Will you give aid to those in dire need, great and small?”

“I will,” Theodore said.

The blade touched one shoulder, and then the other.

“Then rise,” the prince said. So, he did. “I name you Ranger Deputy of the Whirlwood, and entrust you with all power and authority vested in that office.” He offered the hilt of the sword back to Theodore. It was light in his hand. A euphoria washed over him that rinsed away the ache and fatigue he felt before.

“Thank you.”

Behind the prince, Theodore saw Conrad with a priceless face frozen in indescribable horror. The marketplace stood in reverent silence.

Perceval scratched his nose. “So, uh. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” He looked out over the crowd of creatures and spoke with a loud voice practiced for speeches. “Denizens of the Whirlwood! My name is Prince Perceval Stonewall of Laien, and today I come to you on the King’s authority! Our peoples, who have enjoyed generations of peace, now have that very peace threatened!” He turned to Theodore. “So I look to your Ranger Deputy, who has lived among you for months! I ask how things have gone wrong!”

Theodore coughed, embarrassed to make a show of this. “The… The creatures suffer because our kingdom has been unfair to them. We have banned them from the city, and we treat them with suspicion and scorn. We have ignored their anger and unhappiness, and now that the Fair Lady is dead, we threatened to take their independence.”

“Very well!” Perceval said. “Then this I promise all of you! I will reverse the ban on creatures across all of the capital! I will withdraw the knights from the Circle! As King, I will do all in my power to restore the peace and friendship we once shared, so that our bond will falter no longer!”

A great whooping cheer roared across the Circle marketplace. Perceval waited, hands raised, with a certain irritation for it to die down.

“I now send the Ranger Deputy to speak with the Titled fairies, granted all authority by me, to restore peace between our people!”

Another wave of cheering flared up, drowning out all other sound. Theodore, so overwhelmed in the moment, did not notice the danger until it was too late.

Conrad shouted something. He pushed past Theodore and the Prince, shoving them both to ground. There was a noise like lightning or the falling of a tree, deafened by the crowd. A javelin of ice dug itself into Conrad’s shoulder and hurled him across the market into the knights. Theodore spun to see where the attack had come from and saw a unicorn standing high on the roof tops. A lance of ice forming in front of her, floating and ready to launch like a ballista.

“Protect the prince!” Someone yelled. Beira fired her frozen spear across the Circle, but the prince’s bodyguards threw up a magic barrier and the icy weapon shattered against it. The knights rushed forward, pulling Perceval behind cover and open firing with a barrage of crossbow bolts. The Whirlwood creatures scattered. Beira Stormbreak bounded across the rooftops, dodging missiles and spells as they pot marked and punctured the houses. She reared, kicking her hooves in the air and laughing at them. Theodore caught her mocking gaze before she vanished from sight.

Theodore stood still amid the chaos, knowing but dreading what needed to be done.

“Open the doors!” Oboe shouted. “He’s the Ranger Deputy!”

The spriggan peered down from atop the battlements of Inner Circle palace. They knew. Word traveled fast in the Circle, and Feather traveled ahead to make sure it was known. Still, they hesitated, staring, not wanting to be the ones to throw open the gates for a human.

“I come alone, and I come unarmed,” Theo said. “I am not a threat.”

“Our orders are that none may pass!” One said.

They had only just arrived and Oboe was already fed up. “The law says you let him through! Stop wasting time!”

Cowed, the spriggan retreated inside. After another moment, the massive doors of the palace creaked open. A troop was waiting on the other side, led by a scowling Commander Épée.

“You may enter,” she said. “The Queenslayer will stay–“

“She’s coming with me,” Theo said. He took Oboe’s hand and brushed past the guards. The spriggan did not stop him. The doors were sealed shut behind them.

At every wall and at every window, fairies stood ready with spears and bows. There were fey of every type, some without armor and some with simple clubs or no weapon at all. Oboe turned her head, and saw children and elders packed into side halls and corridors with misplaced crates and furniture. These were civilians. The palace had become a stronghold against the invading humans, and it seemed everyone in the Circle had taken shelter here. The sight of them softened Oboe’s anger and reminded her why they had come. Together, they hurried up to the solarium where the arguments had started without them.

“You have lost your mind!” Gardner Feather said with an anger that startled Oboe. “The humans promised us peace, in spite of all that has happened, and again you endanger us all by provoking them!”

The Titled froze the moment Theo entered. They were scattered across the room, staring out the window or sitting away from the roundtable. Some stood with Feather, but others gathered behind Beira. If the countess had any reaction to the arrival of Theo, she did not show it beyond a flick of the tail.

“The humans have promised these things before,” she said. “Empty oaths. Words without magic. Are you truly so naive, Gardner? Nothing will change if we fall for this trick, and we will suffer the same injustice. We cannot throw away this opportunity. The time is at hand for us to throw off this oppression and crush the human tyrants.”

The other Titled did not say anything. Maybe they were too nervous now that a human was listening. Theo adjusted his glasses.

“There are other solutions.”

Beira trotted closer, her movement cool and serpentine. “I hear congratulations are in order, Grayweather. Not that it matters. Nothing you can say can change the fact that the humans have come to storm our gates.”

“That isn’t true!” Oboe said. “Percy ordered the knights to stand down. Theo is here to talk things out! It’s not too late.”

“Many of you are angry,” Theo said. “You have a right to be. Things between our people have been broken and unfair for a long time. It’s something that’s been there, but I wasn’t even aware of until I came to work in the Whirlwood. That anger, and our ignorance of it, are the reason there are Red Caps. It doesn’t have to be that way. I’m listening, and we can work through this.”

“Yes! You see?” Feather looked flustered. “We don’t have to throw away the treaties! All the creatures Oboe brought to the Circle are proof of that. The Mother’s children can live in harmony!”

“So eager to grovel at the boot heel of the humans,” Beira said. “Some of us are not so resigned to the role of victim. We know those humans came to wrest control of our own lives from us. These platitudes are only a means to make us surrender. To make the work they’ve come to do easy.”

“Beira, what you are suggesting would be the death of all of us,” High Lady Willow said. “We cannot win a war against their iron and industry!”

“Coward!” General Warsong shattered her teacup against the floor. “I will not debase our people like this! Stormbreak is right!”

The Hivemother heaved herself across the room. “This pride will be the death of us. We are the envy of all Fairy Circles because of the prosperity of the Laien economy. Let us fix what is broken before it is too late.”

“Get over it, you bloated grub!” The steely eyed gnome Baroness said. “We have been stagnant for one-thousand years. Countess Stormbreak will be our new Fair Lady, or else nothing will change!”

An argument raged. The Titled threw insults and bickered. Theo tried to raise his voice, but it was drowned out. Oboe yelled even louder for him, but they were all too absorbed in their own voices to hear.

Beira’s horn started to glow and made a shrill ringing sound that silenced everyone for just long enough for her to speak.

“There is no more time,” she said. “We must appoint a Fairy Lady but cannot agree. So, once again, I propose we decide this with the Tournament of Titles.”

“No!” Oboe said. “There’s no need! The humans want to talk!”

“We did not ask your opinion, nameless,” High Lady Willow said. “I see now that the Tournament is the only way. The threat the humans pose is clear. The strongest must lead us.”

Feather shook her head. “We must not define ourselves through violence!”

The Hivemother let out a great shivering groan. “I loathe to admit this, but the countess is right. A tournament is the swiftest way to reveal the new Fair Lady. Let us stop blathering and be done with it. All in favor?”

Before Theo or Oboe could stop the vote, the greater part of the room gave a shout. The motion passed like the blade of a guillotine. Feather let out a cry of grief.

“Do not look so sour, Gardner!” Beira said, taunting. “It is your own fault you took a vow of peace. If you wanted to become the Fair Lady so badly, you should have thought ahead!”

“Wait!” Theo said. “There must be a better way to appoint your leader than fighting one another!”

“Do not mock our customs, human,” the Hivemother said. “A Fairy Queen must be respected and feared by her Titled, or else they are no Queen at all. If she cannot fight or does not command the loyalty so that others would die for her, then she is not worthy of our throne.”

Oboe looked at Feather. The Gardner wanted so bad to make the Circle better. She was the only one of them Oboe trusted. If others could fight in her place, then Oboe knew what she needed to do.

“I want the Gardner to become the new Fair Lady. Let me fight for her!”

“Impossible!” Countess Thornberry scoffed. “Queenslayer, you already forfeited any right you had here when you assaulted the Countess! You are nameless, and we will not have you disgrace the ritual!”

Oboe wanted to scream. Of course the Council would forbid her from violence for being too violent. She cursed herself for her past mistake. If there was going to be a Tournament of Titles, there was a chance Beira would win. She couldn’t let that happen. Needing some other option, any other, she looked at Theo.

“What about the Ranger Deputy?” She said.

The Titled were stunned by this suggestion. “He isn’t a fairy!”

“He has a voice in this council!” Oboe said. “That means he has a right to fight for someone!”

Flabbergasted, the Titled discussed this point amongst themselves. Theo pulled Oboe aside.

“What are you doing?” He said.

She felt a flash of shame at having volunteered him for this, at wanting to gamble him and everything on the future she saw in Feather. “Theo, I need you to answer a big question. I need you to tell me if you can kill Beira.”

He said nothing. Oboe felt even worse.

“I think the Gardner can make the Circle better,” she said. “They aren’t going to let me fight for her. But, maybe you can. I know you can fight. I’ve seen you do it. I just don’t know if you can kill. That’s what happens in the Tournament of Titles. Can you kill Beira?”

He hesitated. “…Yes.” There was a tremor in his eyes.

“Theo, I’m serious. I don’t want you to do this unless you can win. I need you to be my knight. Can you kill her?”

His gaze firmed, resolute. “I can kill her. I have to.”

The Hivemother stomped a leg. “It is decided! Unorthodox though it may be, the Ranger Deputy may fight. However, he may only fight and risk his life as champion on behalf of one of us. Does he agree to do this?”

“I do,” Theo said. “I will fight in your Tournament so that Gardner Feather may become the new Fair Lady.”

Shouts and bustling could be heard below. Theodore looked up from his books and peered out the window at the arena nestled at the foot of the palace. The spriggan were moving the refugees out of the stadium, while worker gnomes and pooka cleared the field of debris. The Tournament of Titles was to begin at dawn, and whoever won would dictate the fate of the kingdom.

“Hey!!” Thistle whacked Theodore upside the head with a ruler. “Pay attention! You wanna get gored in the tournament??”

Theodore rubbed his temple and turned his eyes back toward the study material in front of him. Books and scrolls borrowed from the city watch and the Circle Library, all describing the species of unicorn and how to survive an encounter with them. An array of diagrams and illustrations were spread out in front of him. Each was depicted as furious and monstrous, skewering men and bucking wildly as parties of at least ten soldiers were called on to restrain one.

If Lance ever taught Theodore how to fight a unicorn then it was clear Theodore did not listen. The texts reminded him of his father’s advice, an echo either imagined or half kept. The fairy scrolls on the subject were more useful, but so loaded with jargon to be inscrutable. Fife and Thistle offered to offered to interpret, although Thistle’s help was questionable.

“You aren’t reading hard enough!” He said, pounding the pages with a tiny fist. “Use more of your eyeballs!”

Theodore tried not to let the sylph distract him. “This is something I don’t understand.” He pointed at a passage. “This says that weather magic should never be used for combat. That doesn’t make any sense. Isn’t that what Beira uses? It’s clear she is very powerful.”

Fife swirled his goblet and nursed his apple wine. He looked a nervous wreck, as if he was the one called upon to fight in the tournament. “Power is not the issue. Magic of storm and season can be extremely potent if used skillfully.” He took another swig. “That passage is a warning for young fairies born with the skill not to become warriors.”

“They don’t earn many fates,” Thistle said. “They get a little at a time, helping plants grow and easing the transition of the seasons so life can flourish. It’s subtle, and gentle, and hard to do well. Using that magic for war costs too much, more than any of them can earn back.”

“She’s cutting her lifespan short,” Theodore realized. “She’s not even hesitating to do so.”

“It makes her more dangerous than most,” Fife said. “There’s no way to tell how many Fates she wields, but it’s clear she will spend every last one to tear our peoples apart.”

Theodore wondered if his conviction matched hers. Getting up, he fussed with the equipment he had readied. A simple iron longsword and his borrowed armor. Part of him wished he’d kept his father’s broken sword, with its vorpal curse, but it was not something the fairies would ever allow in the tournament. Not that it mattered. Theodore had watched the sword as it was melted down and dispelled.

There were so many clasps and straps to the armor. So many half-remembered pointers on maintaining his equipment, on how to use it, on how to fight and how to defend himself. Putting on armor and holding a sword still felt unreal to him, but it was dangerously real and every moment he spent worrying about how much was riding on him was time not spent preparing.

He ran a whet stone across the blade of the sword. “She can turn invisible. Is there anything I can do about that?”

Thistle grunted. “Not much. Any unicorn can do that. They can’t cast any other spells when they do, though, so there’s that.”

“You will still be able to hear her, and feel her hoof steps,” Fife said. “You will have to attend to your surroundings so she does not get close enough to stab you with her horn.”

Theodore clenched his teeth and imagined himself paranoid and jumping around an empty arena. The more he thought about the coming battle, the less confident he felt.

“What about the other combatants?” Theodore said. “What can you tell me about them? What do I need to look out for?”

There was a knock at the door before either of his coaches could answer. Theodore unlatched the door and found Oboe on the other side with a dish of fruit, cheese and bread.

“Um.” She stood there, as if forgetting why she had come. She stared down into the dish and remembered. “I brought you some food,” she said. “I can’t cook like you, but I scrounged what I could. I don’t know when you ate last.”

Theodore had forgotten himself. Whatever appetite he had was buried by days of anxiety still piling higher and higher. Despite this numbness, he knew he needed to eat. “Thank you.”

She set the dish down on the table, and there was a long moment of tense quiet. Thistle’s expression changed. He looked as if he had noticed something both urgent and terrifying.

“Hey, uh.” His four eyes swiveled between everyone in the room, until settling on Fife. “Listen. Me and the Circle faun here have to go deal with something, okay? We’ll be back later.”

“What’re you talking about?” Fife was bewildered. “What on Earth could be more important than what we’re already doing?”

“Something IMPORTANT,” Thistle said, hissing.

“Do you need help?” Oboe said, concerned.

“No, I don’t need any help from you!” Thistle said, sounding very angry. “I’m just going to take your brother here while you two enjoy your meal. Goodbye!”

Theodore watched as Thistle dragged a confused Fife out of the room by the kneecap. The door closed, and then he was alone in the room with Oboe.

There was an awkward quiet. Theodore and Oboe stared at one another, the dish of fruit and bread and cheese still untouched.

Ever since the dinner, and that kiss that ended so poorly, Theodore needed to talk to Oboe. Even after she came back, so much else had gone wrong that there was never a moment to speak. Now there was calm, and even privacy, but Theodore discovered he had forgotten his voice and stranded both of them in tense discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Oboe said, bewildering him.

“What?” He had no idea what she was apologizing for.

She fussed with the dish of food, as if arranging the apple slices just so would fix some problem.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on the meal, away from him. Tears budded in the corner of her eyes, but she kept them back. “…I’ve been selfish. And angry. All those years, alone, and then you came and…  …And I didn’t care what happened. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Oboe,” he said, moving closer, needing to say something but struggling to find the words. He reached out a hand and she pulled away.

“I’m greedy,” she said. “You knew that wasn’t right. …There’s so many creatures. We’re all stupid, and lonely, and kind, and wicked, and wonderful. I didn’t have any right to kiss you or take you away. I’m awful. It wasn’t fair, not to you or anyone else.”

She always did this. She always turned her pain on herself, taking the blame and forgetting the credit she deserved. That’s what wasn’t fair. Theodore took his friend by the shoulder and pulled her to face him again.

“No,” he said, and kissed her. She fell into the kiss, like a raindrop running down the contours of a stony hill to join a stream, a river, and the sea. She held onto him like she was drowning, and the kiss was her one breath of air that she breathed in with aching, ready lungs. It woke something in Theodore. His careful, rational mind broke like a sky of dark storm clouds. It poured itself into her, emptying itself to reveal something bright and warm. A feeling that had been there, hidden, and he could not stop himself from admitting any longer.

Their lips parted. Oboe trembled, pressed against him, her breath shaky. She looked up at him, her face a desert in bloom.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Theodore said, and started to cry. “You deserve to be kissed, to be loved. …I’ve never had a friend like you. Not ever. I never would’ve let myself. I don’t know how. …But you do! You’re always honest and real, and you want so bad to do what’s right all the time, and… and it makes me want to do everything I can!” He was sputtering, choking on the tangled knot of thoughts that had haunted him since she’d run off. “You’re so strong, Oboe. So strong, and brave, when all I am is scared, and I don’t want you to be ashamed of that! Everyone needs me to be some sort of hero knight, but I’m not. You are. You’re the sort of hero I need to be! Don’t you know that…?”

She reached up, concerned, and wiped the tears from his cheek with a caress. Her mouth hung open, overwhelmed, with eyes overflowing.

“I love you,” he told her. The confession was a weight off his chest that sent him soaring. “You make me feel like more than I am. Like I can do this. Like I can do anything! Because I’ve watched you.” He laughed through his tears. “I know I can be a good knight because you bring that out of me. You showed me it isn’t anything to be ashamed of. …Thank  you.”

“Theo.” She held him, her hands squeezing him tighter, her breath held and her eyes aching to finally say: “I love you too.”

They kissed, pulling close, not wanting this moment to end. They clung to it. They kissed again, and again. Gasping for breath, they stumbled back across the room. Books and pieces of armor clattered to the floor as their hands ran across each other’s bodies, lips locked together. Her fingers gripped the folds of his clothes while he fumbled to undo the impossible array of buttons on his shirt.

No more time was made for study or preparation that evening. Instead, Theodore found himself entwined with Oboe. They held each other and explored the rapture of their bodies until they were so spent they fell into sleep more restful than either could remember.

This precious bliss was broken by the coming of the dawn. Theodore woke to the sound of trumpets, to crowds moving and shouts. He searched for his glasses and found Oboe fast asleep against him. Her smile was perfect, and she was so snug and warm. It pained him to wake her. She stirred.

He would do this for her. It didn’t matter if he was ready. Oboe needed him to do this and he wanted to be the knight she saw in him.

“It’s time,” he said.