The Rose and the Fox | The Tale of the Laughing Forest | Caroline's Bridegroom | Prince Ike and the Witch | Main Gauche | More Precious Than Gold | The Tower | Rumors | For A Kiss | The Toad Prince | Perfect | The Ogre of the Black Mountain | Brightleaf | Damsel in Distress | The Troll | The Soldier | The Curse | Magic Never Ending | 1000 Victories | The Perfect Son

Princes, goblins, mages, librarians, and knights. Quests, curses, spells, and evil witches. Trials, adventure, heartache...and happily ever after.

 

The Rose and the Fox

“This is an outrage!” A noble in a bright green evening jacket shook his fist in the air.

A man with a large black moustache nodded vigorously in agreement. “I agree! This simply cannot go on.”

On the throne, the King nodded slowly, pensively. “The Fox’s harassment grew tiresome a long time ago.”

“But Sire, we have tried to catch him dozens of times before – hundreds! Never so much as a glimpse.”

Beside the man in green, a man dressed in peacock blue smiled, a hard edge to it. “Perhaps we should be a bit more ruthless than we have been thus far. Let us have a Fox hunt, and no holding back. The women shall have to be left behind.”

“Or maybe you should stop letting the wine do your thinking and speaking for you,” a cold voice said from beside the king. “A violent hunt will not catch this Fox. You would do better to fight his way – with wit.”

The fervor died, as though doused with icy water. The man in pea green smiled ruefully. “Prince Briar makes a good point.”

Briar looked at him until the man dropped his gaze and turned away, as though ashamed.

“Ridiculous.” The man in peacock blue looked at the prince dismissively. “I say we go on a Fox hunt – and no rest until he’s caught!”

“Hear hear!” the men around him cheered.

Briar watched them in disgust. Without a word he stood and strode from the King’s Salon. As he passed through the crowd the man in green put a hand to his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Briar…”

“I do not recall giving you permission to address me so casually, Lord Verde. Get out of my way.” An awkward silence had fallen around them. Briar ignored them all, glaring down anyone who dared look at him, and strode from the King’s Salon.

“Briar!” The voice caught him in the main hallway.

For that voice, he would stop. “Pink.” He found a smile for his sister. “Shouldn’t you be abed by now?”

The princess wrinkled her delicate nose. “Don’t be silly. It’s only a quarter to eleven.” She moved impatiently, the profusion of cream lace and pink satin of her dress rustling with her movements. “So what did you talk about? Is Lord Verde all right?”

“He’s howling away in outrage with the rest of them. They’ve declared they’re going hunting tomorrow – and no rest until the Fox is caught.”

“Hmmm…” Pink fluttered her fan. “I don’t think I like that.”

Briar motioned dismissively. “I’m sure after they fail abysmally yet again they’ll forget about it until the next time someone loses a piece of jewelry.”

His sister waved his words away with her fan. “We’ll never know, because there is no way anyone is going Fox hunting on my birthday.”

“That’s a good point,” Briar said with a smile.

Pink snapped open a lace fan, fluttering it briefly then using it to hide the lower half of her face, blue eyes glinting impishly at her brother. “If I didn’t know any better, Briar, I would say you almost sound relieved.”

“Absurd. Why should I care about a thief?”

“Good question. But you are ever reticent with your answers.”

“Hurry along before you’re caught sneaking around at this hour. It’s a wonder your maidservant hasn’t come running down the hall shrieking your name.”

Pink giggled, gold curls bouncing as she tossed her head and winked. “She’s too busy snoring after indulging in the wine I said she could have.”

“Pink!” Briar smiled reluctantly. “You’re a brat. Get along to bed and stop getting your maid drunk.”

Giggling again, Pink snapped her fan shut and reached up to kiss his cheek. “All right, all right. I’m going. See that you get plenty of rest, Briar. I don’t want you sleeping the whole day away because you snuck off again.”

“What!”

Still giggling, Pink gave her brother a wink and then gathered her skirts and turned to go to her room. “Good night!”

Briar watched her go, then turned and walked toward his own room. “Damn it. Who else has noticed I’ve been sneaking off?” Just outside the door to his room, Briar withdrew a key from his black velvet coat. Once inside, he relocked the door.

“It’s hard to decide which I like more. You in evening clothes or you taking them off. I guess it’s a good thing I often get to see both.”

Briar rolled his eyes and threw his jacket at the bed. “Shut up, Reynard. Haven’t I told you to stop lounging on my bed as though it belongs to you?”

Reynard laughed and pulled the jacket from where it had landed on his head, disheveling his fine auburn hair. “I keep hoping one day you’ll be so overcome by the sight of me in your bed you’ll succumb to the desire to have you wicked way with me.” His green eyes followed Briar around the room.

“You’ll be hoping a long, long time.” Briar stripped out of his waistcoat and fine lawn shirt and threw them into a nearby chair. He vanished into his dressing room, reappearing a few minutes later in much older clothes, all of it as dark as his thick, wavy black hair.

“Perseverance is the key.” Reynard held the jacket to his nose. “Mmm, my favorite cologne. Remind me to send the maker a note of appreciation.”

Briar rolled his eyes again. “I take it stealing from Lord Verde wasn’t enough to ease your boredom?”

“On the contrary. That man makes my head ache. He makes me long for boredom.” Reynard grinned. “Well, almost. I do like the excitement you bring to my life.”

“Enough,” Briar said. “I’m far too tired to endure your jests right now. Why are you here?”

Reynard continued to grin, though his eyes had dimmed some. “Simply to see you. I thought perhaps you’d like to know the details of our…meeting with Lord Verde.”

Briar snorted. “They are planning to hunt you tomorrow.” He stood by the bed, arms crossed as he frowned half at Reynard, half at his own thoughts. “I have told you time and again to back off for a time. You are only making them angry and anger leads to recklessness and stupidity.”

“If that’s all they have to fight with, they will never catch me.” Reynard leaned forward and grasped Briar’s shoulders before the prince could back away. “Only one man ever has.” He leaned forward and kissed Briar briefly, slipping quickly away before he caught a fist. “And I do not think you’re ready to give up the game quite yet.”

Briar glared murderously at Reynard. “I’ve warned you about doing that Reynard. Cease or I will turn you in after I’m assured of my sister’s safety.”

“Yes, yes,” Reynard said.

Briar was not convinced. “I won’t see her harmed just because you can’t curb your penchant for mischief.”

Reynard frowned, good humor fading entirely. “You’re in a mood tonight. You know damn good and well, Highness, that I would never let my actions endanger your sister. We have a bargain, I’ll stick to it.”

Briar turned away. “I know,” he said. “…I do not like the idea of them tearing through the forest on a Fox hunt.”

And as easily as that, Reynard was smiling again, eyes a bright leaf green. “You could have just said you were worried about me. I would have gladly soothed your fears.”

Briar rolled his eyes. “I’m more worried about what you’ll do to them. Let’s not leave anyone lost in the forest this time, all right?”

“Take all my fun away then.” Reynard winked and moved toward the window. “Are you going to escort me back to camp? Make sure I’ll be safe?”

“Make sure you stay out of trouble, you mean?” Briar asked.

Reynard shrugged. “As you like it.” And he dropped out of the window, vanishing from sight.

Briar leaned out the window and looked down. “It’s a wonder to me we haven’t broken our necks so far.”

“I would never let anything happen to that pretty neck of yours.” Reynard climbed down the rough stones of the palace wall.

Heaving a sigh, Briar waited a moment longer and then followed him down. Several minutes later he jumped the last bit and landed neatly on his feet beside Reynard. “Make haste,” he said softly. “There is a lot of anger in the air tonight.”

“It will be over in a few more days,” Reynard said calmly.

Briar nodded but did not look convinced. “So why did you attack Verde? He was not on the list.”

“Because I felt like it,” Reynard said. “Our agreement doesn’t mean I can’t do my own work on the side. No harm was done, except to Verde, and somehow I don’t think you mind that.”

Briar said nothing.

Reynard ‘tsked’ softly. “You’re so serious tonight. Only one day left, you should relax a bit. All this tension guarantees you’ll make a mistake.”

“I did not ask you for advice,” Briar snapped. “And now is hardly the time to relax. As if that stupid curse wasn’t enough, tomorrow every power and money hungry bastard is going to be out in force, attempting to woo my sister. Like I’d let any of them anywhere near her.”

Reynard chuckled. “And what if one of those men you run off is her True Love? If all our plans come to naught, you’ll be kicking yourself for dumping him in the pond.”

“There’s no such thing as a True Love. It’s all nonsense cooked up by a vengeful fairy, because the only thing worse than a terrible curse is a false hope of someday overcoming it.”

“You do not believe in True Loves?” Reynard asked softly.

“Romantic claptrap.”

Reynard shook his head. “A pity.”

“Spare me.”

“Now why should I do that?” Reynard hauled Briar close and kissed him hard, quickly, barely dodging the fists that came at him.

Briar seethed. “I told you to stop doing that and I meant it! We have a business arrangement, nothing more. Cease at once or you will find yourself in chains the day after tomorrow.”

“You really should learn to relax, Briar.”

“Shut up.”

Around them the leaves began to rustle, and the woods filled with a cacophony of laughter. Reynard grinned. “Out, you voyeurs. Didn’t I tell you not to leave camp?” One by one a dozen men gathered around them, little more than shadows in the moonlight trickling through the canopy.

“We were getting bored,” one man said, and the other rumbled their agreement.

Briar grumbled to himself, but did not protest when he was urged on toward the camp. Nor did he protest the arm that Reynard dropped across his shoulders, though they remained tight with tension.

*~*~*

“Master Fay…” Briar slowed to a stop as he caught sight of the Royal Advisor, tall and straight and dark. “Rather late for you to be out, isn’t it?”

Fay smiled in amusement. “I do not sleep well these days. Returning from your tryst rather late, aren’t you, Prince?”

“Tryst?” Briar repeated.

The advisor chuckled. “Come now, Prince. Who did you think you were fooling? Always leaving parties early and vanishing from the castle for hours on end. Most days you walk around in a daze, going from pleasant to irate at the drop of a hat. It’s obvious you’re quite taken.” He smiled indulgently. “Surely you didn’t think you were fooling anyone?”

Briar bit back a few choice curses. Gods above he hoped Reynard never caught wind of the rumor. ‘Quite taken’ indeed. Briar snorted. “I guess it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“I would imagine so,” the advisor said sympathetically. “If you should need assistance of any sort, let me know.”

“Thank you,” Briar said quietly, feeling awkward suddenly to receive such kindness from an unexpected source. There had been little of it since his fallout. “Why do you not sleep well?”

Fay shrugged. “I would hazard to say the same problem weighs heavily on both our minds. Tomorrow is the day…”

“I will not let anything happen to her,” Briar said adamantly.

“Prince, if anyone could prevent it, you could. But curses are seldom broken.”

Briar waved his hand impatiently. “Ridiculous. If curses come to pass it is only because people think they have to and don’t try hard enough to prevent them. In four days my sister will be celebrating her eighteenth birthday and formally taking the position of Crown Princess.” He frowned and turned toward his own room. “If you will excuse me, I am eager to reach my bed. Good night, Fay.”

“Good night, Prince.” Fay shook his head at the fleeing prince, smiling tolerantly.

Back in his room, Briar locked the door and then tucked the key into its hiding place beneath a green velvet chair. Outside the sky was dark but not quite black. In a few hours there would be full daylight. Which meant he was probably going to sleep through breakfast and possibly even lunch. Instead of guilt, Briar felt only relief. If he could skip dinner as well, he would.

Stripping, leaving his clothes neatly in the dressing room to be taken away and cleaned, Briar climbed into his bed and buried his head in his favorite pillow.

Only to discover that it smelled of pine and earth and a certain thief. Cursing softly, Briar tossed the pillow to the floor and found another. When this one too carried the scent of forest and thief, he discarded every pillow on his bed and settled for curling up in the blankets, of which there were enough that he could ignore the topmost layer.

Never again.

Never again was he going to let his bed carry any scent but his own. It had taken far too long to rid his room of all traces of Craig; he wasn’t going to let someone else ruin it. But throwing away pillows was far easier than throwing out the memories of the kisses Reynard stole with increasing frequency.

Though in three more days those too would cease to be a problem. The area was becoming too dangerous for Reynard and his band to stay much longer. More than likely they would pack up and leave the moment their bargain with him was concluded, off to seek new prey.

Briar forced his thoughts elsewhere – to his sister, to the people he would have to face on the morrow. Exhaustion eventually won out, overtaking him as the sun began to rise in the sky, casting its early light across a prince tangled in dark green blankets, and the pillows scattered on the floor around it.

*~*~*

“Perhaps I’ve been misled all these years,” Pink said. “But I always thought birthdays were supposed to be something fun. I’m so exhausted and irate from sparring with the deluge of sudden admirers I hardly have the strength to eat.” She waved her fan vigorously back and forth in front of her face.

Briar hugged his sister. “Look on the bright side – if you tell them that jumping in the lake would make you very happy, they’d probably do it.”

Laughing delightedly, Pink turned to look out the window at the large lake on the western end of the palace. “What a lovely thought…”

“It’s a wonder to me you survived the women that assaulted you on your eighteenth birthday…though I guess it wasn’t too hard, considering…” She wrinkled her nose. “I still think Daddy was being perfectly silly.” She tapped her rose-lace fan against her lips. “Perfectly silly,” she repeated.

“I would have made a terrible king,” Briar said. “Better everyone figured that out before I took the throne.”

Pink shook her head. “You shouldn’t have been dismissed for kissing Lord Craig the Cowardly.”

Briar bit back a curse. “I do not think it was who I kissed so much as the drama that ensued. Anyway, I stopped caring a long time ago.”

The memory was bitter in his mind. One accusation after another hurled in his face, so many invasions of privacy. Ugly word after ugly word. And he’d borne it all while waiting for his lover to be found and dragged into it…

…Only for that lover to deny with a vengeance. Before his family and the court Briar had listened as Craig denied his three-year relationship with the Prince. Had looked him in the eyes and swore no such thing had ever existed.

“Are you ready for your ball tonight?” he asked.

Pink rolled her eyes at the change of subject but let him have his way. She closed her fan with a snap and tapped it against her lips. “Of course. Though I wonder if my shoes will be up to all the dancing.” She hesitated, then made herself continue speaking. “Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, in regards to the party tonight.”

“What?” Briar asked. “Are you planning something father won’t like?”

“I don’t much care what daddy thinks.” She opened her fan again, cooling her cheeks, which were turning red. “But I do care what you think. I was planning to ask…someone to dance my waltz with me.”

“That is what you’re supposed to do, Pink.” Briar said. “You’re afraid I won’t approve of your choice.”

Pink nodded, casting her eyes out over the hallway. “I wanted to ask Fay.”

Briar fell silent a moment. “Fay? Advisor Fay? Older than me Fay?”

“What has that to do with anything?” Pink asked, snapping her fan shut and holding it as though she might hit him with it.

“Nothing,” Briar said peaceably. “Just making sure I had the right Fay.”

Pink relaxed her grip on the fan. “Yes, you have the right Fay.”

“Have you two been having an assignation under my nose this entire time?” Briar was torn between the urge to find Fay and wring his neck….and laugh his head off.

“No…we just talk. Over breakfast, over tea…sometimes in the library.” Pink shrugged. “He does not treat me like everyone else. And sometimes…sometimes I wish he’d stop being so formal. I think he wishes it too, but would never cross that line.” She looked anxiously at her brother. “Do you think…” she drifted off, biting her lip.

Briar snorted. “Fay’s thoughts are known only to Fay. I swear that man could run naked through the streets and no one would notice unless he wanted them to notice.”

His sister laughed and whapped his arm with her fan. “Thanks. I so needed that image in my mind while I work up the nerve to ask him to dance.”

“He would make a good king,” Briar said. He didn’t seem to notice the smack to his arm. “Do you want me to pull him aside and pose a few questions?” His eyes took on a gleam.

Pink smacked him harder. “Don’t you dare!” Another smack for good measure. “So I have your approval, then?”

“You certainly don’t have my disapproval anyway. I’ve always seen him as just an advisor. Give me time to adjust to him as your romantic interest.” Briar frowned, thinking. “I guess you could do a lot worse. But don’t tell father.”

“What do you take me for? An idiot?” She winked. “I managed to keep things from you, don’t you think I can keep it from daddy until too late?”

A smile tugged at Briar’s mouth and he stooped to kiss his sister’s cheek. “I hope your romance fares better than mine.”

His sister gave him a knowing look. “I think your second attempt is going far better than you’re admitting. Though that really isn’t saying much, since you’re not saying anything.”

“I have no romance.”

“Of course,” Pink replied. She winked, then gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Briar. I’ll see you tonight. For now I am off to the Ladies’s Tea Party.”

Briar kissed her cheek. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“I’ll only spike it a little bit, promise.” With a wink, she was gone.

“How many ladies do you suppose are without lace tonight?” Briar asked. “Because Pink didn’t know when to stop having it added to her gown?”

Fay’s lips twitched. “She looks lovely, Prince, so I’m sure the ladies did not mind the sacrifice.” They both watched as she was led around the dance floor by the latest of what seemed an endless number of young men – and some not so young. “Though I do not envy the women who had to make it.”

“I’m certain they’re used to my sister’s obsession.” He sipped his wine, leaning back against the wall near the buffet, and watched Fay from the corner of his eye.

Fay was youngish for an Advisor, but he’d proven far more apt while a student than half the men on the King’s council. It had not taken him long to rise to his current station. Almost thirty, just over a decade older than his sister.

Briar hid a smirk behind his wine glass, and wondered how he had never noticed how hard Fay tried not to watch his sister. The man was generally quiet, but could be quite vocal when court was in session. And he had always, to the best of Briar’s knowledge, been kind to Pink. Unlike the young man currently dancing with her, whom he noticed was looking as though he were acting a little too forward. “Fay, I don’t like the look of that young lord. And Pink is frowning.”

“I’ll take care of it at once,” Fay said. Though calm, he moved with determination.

This time Briar didn’t bother to hide a smirk. He watched, and waited. The next dance was the Princess’ Waltz.

A familiar flash of red caught the corner of his eye, and Briar turned toward the balcony. Nothing was there. He turned back to watch as the young lord was curtly dismissed by Fay, who then politely escorted the Princess off the floor.

The red caught his eye again. Cursing fluidly, for now he would not get to watch his sister dance with the one man to which he might trust her, Briar set his wine down and strode out onto the balcony.

It was, predictably, deserted. He thought about taking the stairs, but impatience won out and in with a smooth leap he cleared the railing and landed neatly on the ground below.

“You’re so pretty when you’re mad at me. Especially all decked out like that.”

“Damn it, Reynard. What are you doing here?” Briar skimmed the shadows, growing more irate for every second that did not reveal the dratted thief.

Arms wrapped around him from behind, lips nuzzled at the bit of neck not hidden by silk neck cloth. “I merely wanted to see how all was faring. All is well?”

“Yes, all is well.” Briar jerked away, not completely escaping but at least he was facing the dratted man. “What have I told you about being forward with me?”

“I don’t know,” Reynard said. His grin was visible despite the dark. “I never listen. Too busy trying to get past your thorns.”

“Well stop it.” Briar pulled away, the night air chilly but safer than Reynard’s warmth. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Reynard smirked. “Worried about me?”

Briar rolled his eyes. “So why are you here?”

“After all our work, don’t you think I’d want to know how things are faring?”

Reluctantly Briar nodded. “You could have waited until I came to see you later tonight.”

“Call me impatient.”

Briar rolled his eyes. “Reckless would certainly fit. Have you seen anyone or anything suspicious?”

“Wouldn’t I have told you if I did? Relax, Prince. So far everything is going as well as you could possibly hope.” He reached out in an attempt to soothe Briar with touches.

Briar jerked away. “I’ll relax when I wake up tomorrow and see my sister at breakfast.”

Huffing in frustration, Reynard dropped his arms and let the prince be. “I’ll be glad when this is all over and we can finally leave.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt. It was exactly what he’d been expecting the entire time for all that Reynard persisted in stealing kisses and touches as often as he could. But they hurt anyway. “Well so far as I’m concerned,” he said. “You can leave now.”

Reynard recoiled at the icy tone. “What’s set you off now?”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you here again. We’ve come to the end of our agreement so there’s no reason for you to put off leaving any longer. Good night, Fox.” Turning on his heel, Briar strode rapidly inside.

Inside, Briar was just in time for the opening of gifts. He saw that Fay stood beside Pink, looking lost but happy. He caught he advisor’s eye and nodded. Fay relaxed a bit. But Briar, for the remainder of the night, felt as though he jumped at every shadow.

Nor did it help when he saw Lord Craig Verde slip out with Lord Cerule. A perfectly wretched night. But eventually it came to an end, and after the necessary pauses to chat with sundry guests, Briar all but dragged his sister to her room. “So would you call your ball a success?”

“He danced with me, and stayed with me, so yes.” Pink fanned her flushed cheeks. “I noticed you slipped outside.”

Briar sighed. “You notice everything.”

“Well I am to be Queen,” she closed her fan and gently smacked his arm with it. “I need to keep tabs on these things. Come in for a bit?” She asked as they reached her room.

Briar nodded, grateful that he wouldn’t have to figure out a way to slip inside. Only an hour to go and the day of the curse would be over. Twenty three years and his sister was an hour from being safe. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Father didn’t seem happy about Fay…”

Briar snorted. “I hope you don’t expect me to be able to help.”

“Well, I thought you might be able to offer advice.” Pink began to pull the pins from her hair as she wandered from the sitting room into her bedroom. Her voice grew distant, muffled, as she continued to speak. “I mean, I’m going to be firm about it, but I would prefer tactful and peaceful to telling father to go soak his head.”

“I dunno, I rather like that approach. I’ll soak his head for you.” He grinned, waiting for his sister’s response…then frowned when he didn’t get it. “Pink? Did you finally choke on all that lace?” Still no reply.

Cold now with fear, Briar threw himself off the small pink couch and ran into her bedroom. If he was lucky, she’d merely yell at him for walking in on her naked. If not…

But Pink was perfectly fine, opening a gift which had been left on her bed.

“Don’t open it,” Briar said and began to cross the room.

“Oh, calm down. It’s probably just from one of my many admirers.” But a moment later she frowned, staring in confusion at the strange object in her hand. “It’s…a spindle…what in the world?”

“Drop it now!” Briar snapped. He grabbbed the sharp-ended spindle from her hands. “How many times must I tell you?” He threw the spindle to the ground and pressed his bleeding finger to his lips.

Then all of a sudden the room began to waver, blur, and realization struck him before it all faded to black. “Rey—”

“Briar? Briar!”

*~*~*

“Hey, Boss.”

Reynard ignored him.

“Boss, there’s something going on at the castle.”

He tossed back another swig of rum before deigning to look at Walter, who for all that he looked more or less like a mangy alley cat, could have been another scholar in the palace if he’d wanted. “Do I look like I care?”

“But Boss—“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Reynard snarled. He threw his empty bottle to the ground. “I’m done with it. With him. We’re leaving at sunrise.”

Muttering something under his breath, Walter let the matter drop. “If you wanna leave that soon, you’d best get yourself to bed and stop drinking yourself to an early grave.”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” Reynard said. He fumbled in the dark for a second bottle, determined to loose his ability to stand before another hour passed.

“As you please, sir.” Walter said primly, then turned and walked back to the campfire where the other men were gathered.

Reynard stayed in the gloom of the trees at the edge of the campsite.

What the hell had he said wrong? What had he done this time? He’d gone to make sure everything was okay, that was it. So maybe he shouldn’t have said he’d be glad when they left—but he’d thought Briar had wanted to leave as well.

The unopened bottle fell out of his fingers. Reynard cursed. He was an idiot.

And as his own stupidity registered, so did the conversation of only a moment ago. He knew he shouldn’t have started drinking. “Walter!”

“What?” Walter asked, only sounding a little bit smug.

Reynard stood up and strode to the fire, sobriety forced into him along with the cold feeling that was overtaking him. “What’s wrong at the castle?”

“Dunno, Boss. Only know everything is going crazy. Do you think….”

“Something went wrong, anyway. I’m going to check it out.”

Walter and three other men stood. “We’ll come with you – only to the edge of the forest. If something went wrong, we’ll have to act fast.”

“To run or to help?” Reynard asked.

His men looked at him. “Like you’d let us do anything but help if it’s a matter of helping the thorny prince.”

Reynard grinned. “Then let’s go invade a castle.”

There was no invading the castle. Reynard and his men watched as the castle was locked down. All their careful research had not revealed that many knights in the king’s employ. Magicians headed by the Advisor, casting wards, sealing the castle off completely.

Reynard glowered. “Spread out. Find out what happened. Return here in an hour.” His men were dispersing even before he could finish. Reynard rubbed his forehead. “I don’t understand how…we worked so hard…”

He spent the hour unmoving, watching the castle, hoping to see a familiar figure sneaking out of it and toward the forest. But when the time was up and his men returned grim-faced, he wasn’t surprised. “So?”

“The princess is fine,” one man said slowly. He hesitated, not sure how to continue.

“Spit it out.”

“But,” another man answered. “The prince is not.”

A heartbeat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“From what we’re hearing boss, it’s the prince what was cursed and fell asleep. No one knows the details yet, but it’s Prince Briar who’s the victim.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Seems it is.”

Reynard nodded. “What about the castle? Any way in?”

“Boss, that place was just turned into a prison. Ain’t nobody going in or out until the king figures out what’s up.”

“Get back to camp. Make sure you stay invisible. When the noise settles down in a few days, get the hell out.”

Walter motioned the other men to move, but stayed behind. “What are you going to do, Boss?”

“When I left, he was furious. He went to sleep thinking I was just playing with him. That I was going to leave without him.”

“He’s cursed, Boss. Ain’t nothing you can do about it now.”

Reynard turned away. “I’m going to see him.”

“How are you going to do that?” Walter asked. “There ain’t no getting into the castle. It’s impossible”

Reynard laughed and tossed his head. “No, it’s nearly impossible. Keeping me out – that’s impossible. Go back to camp and wait for us.”

“Whatever you want.” Walter motioned for the others to follow him. “See you later, boss.”

Reynard bit his lip, watching the guards and magician stationed at the section of wall that was his usual entrance into the castle. But the servant door he usually took was no doubt barred for once. That didn’t leave him with much in the way of options – scale the wall or scale the wall.

Looked like he’d be scaling the wall. But even in the dark, there were too many guards. He’d get up the wall, but not over it. Well, there was bound to be an opening eventually. Every army had a few lazy guards.

But a few minutes later it wasn’t laziness that gave him an opening – it was a girl in something that looked more like a pastry than a ball gown. More than her looks, it was the manner in which she moved, the way she just knew she’d be obeyed or else, that marked her as Briar’s sister. Odd that he’d never seen her before. It was little wonder Briar was so protective. If she was half the woman up close that she appeared to be at a distance, Princess Priscilla – Pink to her brother – was indeed a treasure.

Whatever she was doing, six of the guards at the wall vanished. Leaving him more than enough room to work. He waited another fifteen minutes, then moved in.

Ten minutes later he reached the top and paused to get his bearings.

“You’re the fox!” a female voice exclaimed in something that sounded like absolute delight.

Reynard went cold. Cautiously he turned his head, to spy the princess who had ever so neatly tucked herself away in one of the parapets.

Clearly he needed to retire, if he was getting that sloppy. “Princes…” he said cautiously.

“I knew he was seeing you!”

Reynard blinked, and fought the urge to take several step backs as the princess in the creampuff dress came at him, holding a silk lace fan like most men held their weapons. “Pardon?”

“Aren’t you Briar’s lover?”

With every word she uttered, Reynard felt like he that much closer to drowning. “What?” he asked.

The Princess frowned. “Oh, my. If you’re not here to save Briar…” she bit her lip. “Are you just here to steal stuff?”

“What?” Reynard repeated stupidly. He shook his head. “Argh! Briar. I’m here to see what’s wrong with Briar. How did you know we knew each other?”

Pink sighed in relief. “Oh, good. I didn’t think I was wrong. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Reynard followed in silence, figuring the less he said the less confused he’d become.

“I was hoping you’d see the opening I made, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take you to realize everything had gone wrong.”

“You’re awfully well-informed, Princess.”

“Call me Pink, please.” She beamed at him. “So long as you’re not like that wretched Lord Craig Back Stabber, you can count me a sister.”

Reynard just looked at her. “How?”

“Did I know? The way he acted every time the subject of you came up. He acted the same way with Lord Craig Loathsome once. Briar is good at keeping secrets from everyone but me.” Pink smiled over her shoulder at him. She paused as they reached the castle proper, and hooked arms with him. “I guess calling you Lord Fox would be a bit obvious?”

“I like you, Princess.”

That earned him a smack. “I told you to call me Pink.”

“Yes, ma’am. And simply call me Reynard. I’m no Lord, best not to try and act it.”

Pink nodded and they plunged into the crowded, unsettled palace. “Are you really here to save Briar?”

“I don’t know about that, Princess. A curse is a curse.”

“Pink!” A stern voice interrupted.

Pink jumped, but relaxed a moment later. “Fay.” She beamed at the older man. “Is Briar settled?”

“Yes. Who is he?”

“This is Reynard. He’s Briar’s lover.”

Fay blinked and looked Reynard slowly up and down. “A bit of a ruffian…” he shook his head. “But I guess it would take that to keep up with Briar’s temper. How did you learn so quickly of what occurred?”

“I’m good at keeping an ear out for things. And Briar has been worried about his sister for some time, so I was waiting to hear how the evening had gone…”

The advisor shook his head. “None of us expected it to end quite the way it did. Come this way; you’ll get mobbed if you continue traveling the main halls.” He turned abruptly and guided them through the back halls and stairs used by the servants.

Reynard followed mutely behind them as they entered Briar’s room. So strange, to use the door.

Briar lay on his bed, still dressed in his fine clothes. Such a stark black against the green bedclothes, his wavy hair spread out behind his head against the pillow.

Only yesterday he’d been taunting Briar from that bed. It was always so much fun to get Briar’s gander up. Pink and Fay faded into the background as he approached the bed, sitting on the edge of it, twisted to face Briar. He reached out to touch a cheek which had only hours before had still carried a hint of sun…and now was so very pale. And cool, as if the prince wasn’t alive.

The thought made him cold all over. “What happened?” he asked, looking at Pink.

“I don’t know,” Pink replied, wielding her fan in such a way that Fay took a step back. “In fact, I didn’t even know I was cursed until it turned out that – oops! Wrong royal.” She smacked the palm of her hand with her fan, then turned her eyes on Fay. “Nice of everyone to keep me informed of my own possible partial-demise. As soon as my brother is better, every last one of you involved is in serious trouble.”

Reynard and Fay exchanged a silence glance. “I feel sorry for whomever she marries.”

Fay choked. Pink beamed. “That would be Fay,” she said cheerfully.

“My condolences,” Reynard said with a grin.

Fay opted to remain silent.

“So. Are you going to wake him up?” Pink was tapping her fan against her palm again.

Reynard stared at her, half in confusion, half in fear. “How?”

Fay’s lips twitched. “Wasn’t the requirement true love’s kiss?”

“That’s a tall order,” Reynard said. “As I recall from many a conversation, Briar does not believe in such things.”

“Rubbish,” Pink said. “Lord Craig the Bastard simply made him…”

“Thorny?”

“He’ll be furious if he hears you saying such a thing.”

Reynard smiled. He continued to stroke Briar’s face, enjoying – despite the circumstances – the chance to touch Briar without having to dodge a fist. It simply was not in him to tell the Princess that Briar was dead set against anything more than a business relationship. And Reynard had ruined any chance he’d had that night.

Clearly he was stalling. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Briar didn’t wake.

But Briar would be angrier that he was being a damn coward. Steeling himself for the worst, he braced one hand on the bed and leaned down to kiss Briar softly. And this time he felt only miserable that there would be no punch or kick forthcoming. Briar was barely contained energy at the best of times, and something like lightning when his temper broke free. It wasn’t right to see him so cold and still on his bed.

Nothing. Briar remained still. Reynard fought back a wave of crushing disappointment. He hadn’t thought it possible for something to hurt that much. Whomever Briar’s true love was, he hated the man with a vengeance. “Sorry, Princess. Looks like I’m just a thief.”

“I wondered…” Fay murmured.

Pink’s fan fell limply to her side. “Oh…” was all she said.

Reynard turned away, his back to the other’s in the room. The window wasn’t far; it would be easy to slip away. No one in here was likely to stop him, and it was late enough that he could get out with little difficulty.

“…Reynard…”

He whipped around at the sound of his name, spoken softly, slowly, rather than as if it were about to be followed by an impolite epithet.

“Briar!” Pink screeched, and rushed to the side of the bed.

But the prince had eyes only for Reynard. “I thought you were leaving.”

Reynard attempted to smile and failed. “Yeah, about that…I sort of forgot the part where I ask if you want to come with me.”

“Briar! Are you all right? How do you feel?”

Frowning, Briar turned to address his sister. “I’m fine.” He shook his head, clearing away the fog that still lingered. “What happened? Why did I fall asleep? How long have I been unconscious?”

“Only a few hours.” His sister winked at him. “Your lover didn’t waste any time getting here when he realized something had gone wrong. I knew you’d picked someone better than Lord Craig Ratface this time.” She giggled and all but climbed onto the bed to hug him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Briar hugged her back and sat up. “What I’d like to know is why the curse affected me and not you.”

“You’re in trouble, by the way, for keeping me ignorant about it all.”

“Not now, Pink.”

"Later,” she agreed. “So what did happen?”

“That…” Fay said. “That would be mine to explain.” The royal advisor had gone pale, and looked only at Pink as he spoke. “My mother was the one who cast the curse…and she set me up to be here while it all went down…with the intention that I marry the princess and claim the kingdom like she always wanted. I…” he shook his head. “I never really understood her anger; only that because I was her son I was meant to play a part in it.”

“She set up the curse and purposely misled everyone into thinking it was the Princess who had been cursed – so that there was no chance at all in saving him from it. Then I could take the throne and the royal family would have to watch helplessly as the prince slept year after year.”

He continued to watch Pink, who stared back pale-faced. “I never wanted to be involved. I’ve spent my life trying to find a cure, hoping that I or Briar would succeed in preventing it. I’m sorry I’ve lied all these years. Believe me when I say I did not like doing so. And…I never lied about how I felt for you, Princess. This entire situation is why I never said anything.”

Pink gathered herself together, snapping her fan shut and moving to grab Fay firmly by the arm. “You and I are going to have a nice, long chat. Briar, the two of you can join us for breakfast in the morning. I’ll take care of father.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The door shut behind them, and the room fell painfully silent.

“There’s going to be no living with you now,” Briar said.

Reynard blinked. “Does this mean we’re back on speaking terms? I really didn’t mean I was going to leave without you – I sort of assumed you were part of that ‘we’ and didn’t realize until later I’d sort of forgotten to confirm that bit with you.”

“I was expecting you to give me unmitigated hell,” Briar replied, as he lay back down against his pillows with a thump. “Not apologize. This is rather nice. Keep going.”

“You’re a brat.” Reynard’s contrition fell away, replaced by a slow smirk. “I did wake you up, didn’t I? Still a non-believer?”

Briar rolled his eyes. “You are going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Well you could just give up talking and finally give in to the urge to have your wicked way with me.”

Briar sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

For answer, Briar grabbed the front of Reynard’s coat and pulled him down, kissing him as fervently as Reynard usually kissed him. “I said I suppose you’re right. Unless you want to keep talking?”

“Far be it for me to argue with my prince.”

“For once,” Briar muttered. “Now shut up and let me have my wicked way.”

“Yes, my love.” Reynard dodged the pillow that came flying at his head.

 

The Tale of the Laughing Forest

“I still don’t see why I had to come,” Ashley groused. “Did you truly require my presence?”

Jeremiah gave him a look that had sent many a guard scurrying to obey their Captain’s command for fear of a slow, painful death otherwise.

Ashley didn’t notice; he was too busy frowning at the back of his horse’s head.

“Yes,” Jeremiah said. “It’s you and those brainless stories that are wholly responsible for his Highness’s running off on a stupid quest, so I most certainly expect you to help me find him.”

Ashley rolled his eyes. “I am not responsible for his Highness’s upbringing. If he thought it perfectly reasonable to go gallivanting off to act out what the rest of the kingdom knows to be mere stories – you should be dragging along the idiotic instructors who put such foolishness in his head. Not I.”

“Are you done talking yet?” Jeremiah asked.

Another roll of the eyes, combined with a grimace and shake of head. “Ah, yes. Forgive me, Captain. Sentences more than five words in length are too confusing for you to follow. I shall endeavor to keep my comments brief.”

“You’re already failing miserably, so why not just shut up or tell me where he might have gone.”

Stifling a sigh, Ashley combed his floppy, brown bangs out of his eyes and regarded the road ahead of them. They were half a day’s journey beyond the royal city on an older road rather than the established routes. Uneven, rough roads though the horses seemed not to care.

At least he knew how to ride a horse. One less humiliation he’d be suffering on this aggravating journey. How was he supposed to have known Prince Ike would take his stupid stories to heart and run off on his own quest?

He could be anywhere. The Jagged Mountains to fight a dragon, the ocean to fend off pirates, or even the Laughing Forest to hunt out bandits. Scores of other places besides.

And somehow that meant Ashley had to accompany the Captain of the Royal Guard and help find the runaway prince. Ashley snuck a look at Jeremiah, who was staring stonily ahead, lost to whatever thoughts occupied him. If not for his harsh, condescending, impatient, demanding, critical attitude, the Captain would be handsome.

But as it stood, he was only an ass.

He’d made it clear on more occasions than Ashley could count that the Librarian was one of the most useless people at the castle. More than once they’d gotten into…lively debates on the matter.

“He could be going East--Then again, in the South, there's--Or maybe--Oh, it's impossible to say. He wanted to hear the stories, I told him. If someone had warned me he was that gullible—“

Jeremiah cut him off with a contemptuous snort. Everything about the man was hard – the lines of his body, trim and tight with muscle, his perpetually stern expression, even his icy blue eyes, accented by short, short hair. Ashley wondered sometimes why he didn’t just shave it completely off. “You shouldn’t have been encouraging him to waste his time listening to them anyway.”

“It’s not a waste of time to listen to stories for an hour or two a night!” Ashley snapped.

“He could have been doing things far more practical than listening to you natter on about dragons and kidnapped princesses.”

Ashley bit down on his lip, knowing it was futile to argue with him. But ultimately, he could not resist. “The kingdom could do worse than a prince who thinks being noble and brave is the ideal way for him to behave.”

“Yes,” Jeremiah replied. “It’s so reassuring to have a leader who would rather run off to rescue stupid women from nonexistent creatures than stay at home and learn how to govern.”

Ashley's horse was beginning to pick up his agitation, and he forced himself to relax. “If you had your way, he’d do nothing but pick fights and stomp around the castle like something had been shoved into his nether regions.”

Jeremiah glared at him. “At least I make myself useful.”

“I make myself plenty useful.”

“Yes, cataloguing children’s stories and using them to misplace a prince.”

Ashley wished he had a chance of smashing Jeremiah’s nose. But he’d only fall off his horse, and he wasn’t ready to start humiliating himself quite yet. “I didn’t misplace the prince! I told him stories and then ordered him to bed each night. How was I to know he’d decided to run off? He’s not the only person who’s ever asked about the old stories.”

Jeremiah didn’t respond, merely glowered at the unending road before them.

“I think it most likely he went toward the forest,” Ashley said. “We’ve not much of it around here, at least not like we’ve caves and water. I would say he went toward the Laughing Forest.”

“The Dark Forest you mean?” Jeremiah asked scathingly.

Ashley rolled his eyes. “I meant more that Laughing Forest is what his Highness perceives it to be. Yes, the Dark Forest.”

“If you’re wrong, and we fall even farther behind him than we currently are, I will see you put in stocks, Librarian.”

“Go ahead and try, Captain. But last I checked, telling stories was not a crime.”

“It will become one if telling those stories is what resulted in the heir being lost and possibly even killed.” Jeremiah said it matter-of-factly, but Ashley could feel the smug certainty underneath it.

He bet the bastard would just love to see him dragged off in chains and locked in some damp, moldering cell. All because he found books far more interesting than swords.

Heaven and King forbid.

*~*~*

Ashley followed as Jeremiah turned then off the small road they'd been traveling. Night was falling fast; he could just barely see the sprawling mass in the distance that was the Dark Forest. Another day and they would reach it. Ashley wondered if he'd live that long, or die finally attempting to wring Jeremiah's stupid neck.

He bit back a groan as he slid from his horse, feeling every last ache and pain from spending far too many hours in the saddle. Nearby, Jeremiah all but jumped down and acted as thought it were the easiest thing in the world to ride all day and then make camp.

He didn’t ask for Ashley’s assistance once; Ashley wished he could believe Jeremiah did it out of consideration. But he knew it was out of contempt – what would a stupid librarian know about making a fire and fixing food?

Which, of course, he didn’t. He’d grown up in the city; beyond a few idiotic romps with friends he no longer had, he'd done his damnedest to stay within the city. Already he missed his bed, curling up and reading by candlelight on those few nights he did not have manuscripts or books to copy, translations to make and royal papers to draft or rewrite. All of which would pile up while he was gone. It wasn’t as though librarians with his skills were in excess.

Not when Jeremiah derided him so much in public that no one wanted to apprentice. Damn the man.

Ashley set the thoughts aside and made himself walk toward the fire like he wasn't suffering. Though he knew the response, he could not help but ask. “Is there anything you would like me to do?”

“Locate the prince so I can go home and be done with the both of you.”

“Believe me, if I could summon him here, I would. Your dislike of my presence is exceeded only by the fact that I loathe and despise you.” Ashley crossed his arms as he stared at the fire until evening turned to full-on night around them. He accepted the food handed to him with a curt thank you, and listened to all the noises around them, secretly relieved to hear nothing that sounded like a big, dangerous animal. “So what do thick-headed lugs talk about around the fire?”

He couldn’t see much of Jeremiah across the fire, but he knew by rote the curling of his lip, the darkening of his icy eyes. “We don’t tell idiotic stories.”

“Oh, yes. Because stories about how you slashed this brigand or beat that soldier or made fun of that librarian are so enlivening.”

Jeremiah laughed, and Ashley wished bitterly that the man wouldn’t sound so mocking when he did it. But really, why should he care? “Recounting battles and amusing lessons is far more interesting than regaling everyone with how you spilled your ink or misplaced a scroll.”

“And why would I tell everyone about that when I know thousands of stories with which to amuse and entertain?” Ashley wished he could pitch his bowl at the idiot’s head.

“So your life is so dreadfully boring you’d rather tell made up stories than recount your day?” The question was asked calmly, matter-of-factly.

“Like beating every young man in the city senseless is so much better an existence,” Ashley said. But the words stung. He didn’t need the rock-headed ass of a Captain pointing out that his life was empty and boring.

Ashley finished eating in silence, thinking on Prince Ike – who had been the only one for longer than he cared to remember to seek him out. And perhaps it had only been to hear a bunch of silly stories, but they’d had a shared love for those stories. He had wound up helping the Prince by sheer chance that first night; but every night after, he had been specifically requested.

It had been nice, to be wanted for something other than the usual chores. He loved what he did…but it was nice that someone had wanted him beyond that; had wanted simply to be told a few stories. And didn’t it figure that the harmless arrangement had come crashing down around him and forced him to spend Heaven only knew how many days and night in the company of the only man he actively wanted to turn violent against.

Ashley didn’t move as a sleep roll was dropped beside him, remaining still until Jeremiah had set up his own and lain down. When it looked as though he would not be moving again, until morning, Ashley began to slowly and painfully set up his own bedding. He hurt. But he’d rather go blind and never read another word than let his unwilling companion know he was in pain.

Somewhere a wolf howled, and Ashley bit his lip to keep from saying anything – because no matter what he said, Jeremiah would interpret it as fear. Closing his eyes tight, Ashley pretended he was safe in his own bed and told himself that was where he’d wake up until exhaustion took him away.

*~*~*

Ashley ignored the looks the farmers slid over him, biting down hard on a lip that would probably start bleeding if he was forced to endure this journey much longer. They were looks he should long be used to by now.

Next to the strong, confident, tall, and – he couldn’t really deny it – handsome Captain, he was nothing more than a scrawny, albeit equally tall, man with unimpressive features and hair that on a good day looked like some creature had mistaken it for a nest. And even after three days, ink stained his hands – and knowing his luck, it was on one or both cheeks as well. The dratted stuff took ages to wash away; he’d given up trying to do so long ago.

Devil take them all. At least he had more than rocks in his head.

The farmers talked in thick country accents, but at least they had indeed seen the prince – and thankfully didn’t realize who it was they had seen.

Ashley listened only just enough to know what they were saying, minimally interested until they started giving Jeremiah advice on how best to travel through the Dark Forest. He frowned, but remained silent until the men had gone on their way. “They’re wrong,” he said.

“About what?” Jeremiah asked, not bothering to look at him.

“You can’t just go through the Forest like that.”

Jeremiah curled his lip. “I think I’ll take the advice of men who live here and know the area rather than a fool who spends more time with books than with the living.”

“I have a job to do!” Ashley snapped. “I can’t help it there’s more work than people to do it.” Though, even if there were librarians aplenty, he would still probably spend more time with the books. Who was ever likely to seek out an ink-stained wraith for anything more than a request for a copy of this or a history of that?

Enough. Dwelling on his lacks would not improve his current situation. “And they might live here, in the field and on their farms, but no one lives in the Dark Forest. There are reasons for that.”

“Keep your idiotic stories to yourself,” Jeremiah said. “I have a prince to find, and listening to your fantasies will do nothing but hinder the search. A forest is a forest, and I will take the advice of those who are most familiar with it.”

Ashley pressed it. “They were lying! Or mistaken. You do not simply traipse into the Dark Forest, and I guarantee the paths they suggested will not be there for us to find.”

“Be silent, Librarian.”

“But you don’t understand – I speak from various accounts. Journals, histories—“

“Made up stories,” Jeremiah said scathingly.

Ashley held tightly the reins, just knowing he’d do something stupid otherwise. By the Heavens! The man tried his patience like no one else. If and when they finally found the prince, he was banning the brat from ever entering the library again. And from speaking to him. Nothing and no one was worth putting up with Jeremiah for days on end. It was like being slapped in the face, over and over again – with every last one of his inadequacies, failings, and miseries. “They’re not all made up,” he said finally. “And behind every legend is small bit of truth.”

“Of course,” Jeremiah said. “There’s a forest. Beyond that? Nothing but wild tales told by men who had nothing better to do.”

Like me, Ashley thought bitterly. No doubt it was what Jeremiah was thinking.

He looked at the forest, mind tumbling over what little he knew about it. For starters – no one had been in the forest since it was abandoned. Whatever the farmers had said, they’d been repeating what they themselves had been told. Stories no doubt passed down through the generations.

Perhaps they’d really been in the forest, but Ashley doubted it. If anyone had been in the forest, new stories would have arisen. Or the old ones would have flared anew. There had been nothing for decades.

If the prince was in the Dark Forest, he was probably lost. As they would be shortly. But, then again, what did a librarian know?

*~*~*

“We’re not lost.”

It took everything Ashley had not to start laughing in Jeremiah's face.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“I can see it in your expression, Librarian. So just keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut if you want to keep it intact.”

Ashley fell silent, more from shock than fear. But in the next minute he realized Jeremiah was just being mocking and shock shifted to a silent, stewing anger. And something else, which he ruthlessly ignored.

They were lost. Of course ‘lost’ implied they’d known where they were going in the first place. Which they didn’t. The forest was dark; if he didn’t know for a fact that it had been midday when they’d entered, he would think it was much later. Come evening, the forest would probably be pitch black or very nearly so.

On top of all that – there was no telling where in the massive forest the prince might be. Assuming he was still alive.

Ashley was sick of it. “So what now?” he asked when the silence grew too long. “We can’t stay here.”

“We have to find the prince.”

“He’s as lost as we are,” Ashley said. “We’ll be lucky to find ourselves, never mind him.”

Jeremiah shrugged in a way that made Ashley think he was doing it to avoid something more violent. “We can’t exactly go back without him.” He slid his pale blue eyes toward Ashley, then slid them away again. “There must be something…”

“It’s getting late,” Ashley said. “When it gets full dark we won’t be able to see a thing. I haven’t seen anything resembling a clearing since we entered this place. The best we can do is find water.”

Jeremiah nodded stiffly and urged his horse forward. If the trees grew much thicker, they would not be able to continue on horseback – Ashley hoped it did not come to that.

“Shouldn’t we turn back? We still can at this point.”

“And do what?” Jeremiah asked, voice tight. “Tell the king we can’t find his son because a stupid forest scared us?” He looked at Ashley scathingly. “By all means, do so if you like. I’m sure you’ll make a fine story of it. But I will press on; nothing is accomplished by giving up the moment an obstacle is presented.”

Ashley made a face. “An obstacle we could have avoided if you had listened to me in the first place, Captain.”

“Listened to what? Your stories? They would have proven less helpful than the farmers.”

“If you had listened to me,” Ashley snapped. “I would have told you that they all told you were stories – tales their fathers and grandfathers passed down. I at least know a great many, and from those may have gleaned a few truths!”

Jeremiah abruptly halted his horse, forcing Ashley to do the same. “You should have said something.”

“I tried.” Ashley glared hatefully. “Somebody told me to shut my pretty mouth or risk losing it. So my apologies, Captain, but I didn't feel like wasting my breath.”

For a moment, he thought he saw something like embarrassment flit across Jeremiah’s face. But then the Captain was as stony as ever, and Ashley figured he’d just imagined it. “So what ‘truths’ do you know?”

“Nothing that would interest you,” Ashley said, and refused to look at or speak to Jeremiah, though he felt it every time those ice-blue eyes looked his way.

*~*~*

The silence was unbearable. Where were the animals? The rustling of leaves? Ashley repressed a shiver. He’d been ignoring Jeremiah for hours now, but by this point he’d take another fight to one more second of the awful silence. “The royal palace used to be here, did you know that?”

No reply.

Ashley didn’t look to see if Jeremiah was listening. “Once upon a time, this forest wasn’t as it is now. It was still thick, confusing, but not as black or quite as large. For years and years it was merely called ‘the forest'. There were carriage roads and workman paths; they used it as casually as we use our own valleys and mountains.”

“Then a band of thieves moved into it, took it over. They had a trick with laughing, filling the forest with it. Many victims said it sounded like the forest itself was laughing at them, as if amused at the fact they were about to be robbed. Gradually everyone began to call it the Laughing Forest.”

“One day the bandits vanished. No one knows why – some say they were killed, other accounts claim they left for new territory. After that, the forest returned to normal, though the new name never faded.”

“But a few years later, something else entered the forest.” Ashley frowned, thinking. “No one ever says what, just that the forest became a dangerous place. People got lost, others came out terrified, out of their minds. The forest was no longer safe, and it began to creep toward the castle – no matter what was done to hold it back. Finally the king ordered a new castle built some distance away from the forest. But he ordered the forest be abandoned long before the new castle was ready. For years men attempted to tame the forest, or at least understand what it had become…none ever succeeded. They gave up. No one has been in the forest since.”

Jeremiah snorted. “You expect me to believe all that?”

“Obviously much of the story has been exaggerated, but there are enough commonalities between accounts that I think there’s more than a little truth to the tale.” Ashley looked at Jeremiah, face and tone reproving. “And we need all the information we can get, Captain. The Prince believed the story enough to travel here; we had best think as he did.”

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Jeremiah looked at him in contempt. “This is what comes of listening to stupid stories.”

Ashley swore he felt his temper shatter, like delicate crystal dropped on the marble hallway. “If you did not want to hear what I had to say, then why did you bring me along?” he demanded. “You said it was my fault that he ran off, ergo I should be the one to help find him. Yet time and again you deride the very stories that you say are responsible for the prince’s running off! You cannot have it both ways. Either I and my stories are useful or they are not.” Jeremiah started to speak, but Ashley pressed on, refusing to give him the chance. “If you had listened to my stupid stories, we might not be lost in the forest. We might have found a different solution – yet even now, when it’s obvious we’re probably not going to find a way out, you are deriding me!” Ashley stopped, rather abruptly running out of words. He looked away, waiting for the blow that would inevitably fall – though whether it would be verbal or physical, he could not say.

“Stories have their place,” Jeremiah said. “But no one should be so consumed by them they spend more time in stories than in living – nor should they go running off to reenact them.”

Ashley still didn’t look at him. “Perhaps the prince is reenacting silly stories because he feels his life lacks.”

“Maybe the prince is an idiot who cannot see what is right in front of his face,” Jeremiah snapped.

“You’re probably right,” Ashley replied. “But he’s only sixteen – what do you really expect out of him?”

Jeremiah grunted, but said nothing.

“And if he finds more comfort in stories than in real life, perhaps there is a problem we all have failed to notice.”

“As I said, perhaps he is an idiot.” Jeremiah looked at him.

Ashley stared right back. “And what would you know about it? Your life is golden; what need have you to retreat to stories? Not everyone can be as confident and capable and respected as you. His Highness? Has nothing but a life of duties that probably frighten him right now to look forward to, never mind the image to which he must live up. Think on that before you start being so judgmental.”

“So you think he’s hiding from his duties by acting out stories?”

“It’s a possibility.”

A moment of silence, then Jeremiah spoke again. “So what does a librarian hide from?”

The question was mocking, Ashley knew, but he answered it anyway, simply to keep the silence at bay a moment longer. “Nothing,” he said. “I hide from nothing.”

They continued on in silence.

*~*~*

A bit of color not consistent with the forest, some distance past Jeremiah, caught Ashley’s eye. “What is that?” It was strange to hear his own voice after going so long without speaking.

“What is what?” Jeremiah followed his gaze, halting his horse as he too spied the anomaly. He slid from his horse and tethered it to the branch of a low hanging tree.

Ashley followed suit, if far more clumsily, and followed him.

It proved to be stone – shaped stone, and as they drew closer and could look, it was obvious even in the dark that they were seeing the remains of a road. Ashley followed what remained of it with his eyes, finally looking up as it seemed to end.

The remains of a castle, almost completely taken over by the forest. Trees grew everywhere around and it, chunks of what must have been a wall scattered here, a tower there… “There really is an old castle…but even the King always said it was legend…”

Jeremiah said nothing, merely began to walk slowly toward the castle. The horses were rapidly lost from sight, and Ashley wondered if they’d be able to find their way back even with the road. He moved closer to Jeremiah, anxious not to lose the only other sign of life besides the forest itself, even if it was the ass Captain.

“Stupid place to build a castle,” Jeremiah said quietly. “One careless knight and a torch is all it would take to set the forest ablaze and trap everyone. Not even enough water to guard against such a thing.”

Ashley shrugged. “The forest wasn’t always this bad. I’m sure at one point it was thinner and certainly not so close to the castle.”

“Still stupid to build a castle right in the middle of a forest.”

“Do you think the prince found his way here?” Ashley asked, ignoring the potential argument.

“Knowing the prince, and given this entire journey,” Jeremiah answered. “I don’t doubt he bypassed this castle completely and found the one that not even you know about.”

Ashley surprised them both by laughing. Jeremiah watched him for a moment, then looked away and increased his pace.

“We should go back for the horses,” he said at last. “There’s space for them, it’s getting too dark to see, and we’ve plenty of shelter here.” He turned around, barely sparing Ashley a look. “I’ll get them. Stay here and see if you can’t clear out a space for camp.” He didn’t wait for Ashley to argue.

The man was nothing short of aggravating. Ashley sighed and set his aching muscles to clearing away smaller stones, branches, and undergrowth from a portion of what had once been the main courtyard for their camp. The canopy was thick enough there was no reason to worry about rain – even sunlight wasn’t able to really pierce the forest.

He looked around, hearing Jeremiah off in the distance. The castle must have beautiful once; here and there the crumbled stones hinted at their former glory. How sad, that it had been left to the merciless forest. What had really driven so many to abandon the beautiful location to live closer to the stark mountains?

Without really meaning to, Ashley found himself wandering into the castle – through a doorway that must have been grand once and into a hallway that must have been grander still. Through it he could see the inner courtyard, and his feet went that way before he could stop them.

Beyond the inner courtyard the castle was not quite as devastated. Exploring the first hallway, he found a stairway that still went up to the largely intact second floor.

He stared back the way he’d come through a window. Jeremiah had brought the horses to the makeshift camp, and he could tell by the way he moved that the Captain was annoyed to find Ashley absent. He watched as Jeremiah made a fire and set out their things, envious of how smoothly, gracefully and easily he did everything. It was only in his library that Ashley ever felt that confident. Jeremiah was like that everywhere.

When Jeremiah stood and began to look around, Ashley cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted for him, waving his arm back and forth when Jeremiah’s gaze finally landed in his direction. Even from a distance he could feel Jeremiah glaring. Ashley turned away from the window and returned to his explorations.

Strange that it wasn’t as dark as he had thought it would be by now. It seemed early evening was the perpetual state in the Dark Forest. He continued wandering, careful of where he stepped. It all seemed more or less stable…but eventually he was bound to hit one of those ‘less’ spots.

He passed by a room, then stumbled to a halt and backed up. Stared a moment, unable to believe what he was seeing. Then he turned and ran back the way he’d come, too excited to watch his footing this time.

But rather than fall through a hole, he crashed into what he thought was a wall at first – then the wall grabbed him, keeping them both from hitting the ground, and held him still. “What are you doing?” Jeremiah demanded. “Not that I care if you break your neck – but not until we find the prince.”

Ashley let the insult pass. “I found the prince. Come on.” He turned and ran back toward the room where the prince lay, Jeremiah close behind him.

And realized belatedly he should have checked on the prince before simply running off. Ashley dropped down beside the gangly, dark-haired boy sleeping like the dead on his cloak, spread across what had once been a magnificent bed.

Like the dead indeed. Ashley bit down hard on his bottom lip as he touched the prince, who was cold and far too still. Ashley cradled him close, shaking and nudging the prince until his eyes at last opened. “Highness,” he said, relieved. “What’s wrong?”

“Ley…” Prince Ike attempted to sit up, but then fell back against Ashley. He moved his eyes toward the figure looming over them both and offered a weak smile. “Sorry, Cap’n.”

Jeremiah grunted. “As soon as we’re home and you can stand, I’m going to flay you alive – never mind what your father will do.”

Ike laughed weakly, then his head fell against Ashley’s shoulder. “So tired. She keeps taking it away. Can we go home?”

“What are you talking about?” Ashley asked. “Who is taking what?”

Jeremiah drew his sword and looked around the room. “There is no one here.”

Ashley frowned at the cold, still prince. “Something is seriously wrong. He’s only been out here a few days.” In the corner he spied a travel pack, and it still looked fairly full. “The weather’s been mild, so that can’t be it.”

“He said ‘she keeps taking it’,” Jeremiah said. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Ashley said. He struggled to pick the prince up but his own build was not much larger than that of the young prince.

Jeremiah sheathed his sword and took the prince from him. “Come on,” he said. Ashley nodded, then grabbed the prince’s pack and led the way back to their camping ground.

Dark was finally falling, thick and unrelenting around them. The fire Jeremiah had built seemed to make everything blacker. Stumbling around, they finally got the prince settled, covered in blankets and their cloaks, then sat before the fire, watching, listening.

“What’s going on?” Jeremiah asked at last.

Ashley shook his head. “This isn’t a story I know. But surely he’s just fallen sick and is confusing dreams with reality?”

“I do not like this forest.” Jeremiah had drawn his sword again and laid it within easy reach. Around them, everything was black. If not for the wind and the smell of the forest, Ashley would have thought they were in one of the myriad caves of the mountains. “Not at all.”

“Nor I,” Ashley agreed. “I can see why the castle was abandoned.” He couldn’t repress a shiver, wishing the fire was warmer even though the air was fairly mild. And he never thought he’d miss hearing a wolf howl or a fox scream…but anything was better than the miserable silence.

Jeremiah moved, making him jump. He looked away from the expression he knew was on the Captain’s face, feeling sheepish. “So what do we do, fearless Captain? Hmm?” Jeremiah’s reply was interrupted by the prince, who began to cry and whimper in his sleep.

“Highness!” Jeremiah reached him first, shaking the prince until he woke with a hoarse scream. He looked at them wildly, then gripped Jeremiah’s chain mail shirt and began to sob. “She won’t leave me alone! I hear her over and over and she takes it all away, makes me tired.”

Ashley shared a look with Jeremiah. “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Jeremiah demanded. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re lost.”

“Surely anything is better than this castle?”

“Librarian, we can barely see each other. How exactly do you propose we find our way anywhere? At the very least, we must wait until daylight to get more thoroughly lost.”

Ashley nodded stiffly. “So what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

Jeremiah shrugged, holding the sobbing prince close. “I hate to say it, but this entire situation sounds like it came from one of your confounded books.” As the prince fell once more asleep, he carefully set him back down and pulled the blankets up. “Any ideas at all, Librarian?”

“I suppose I should be gloating about this,” Ashley said morosely. “Instead I wish I was back in the library reading these stories instead of living them. If I see a dragon, you’re on your own.”

Jeremiah made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. They lapsed back into a silence broken only by the crackling fire and the prince’s whimpers. “

It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

“Try sleeping,” Jeremiah said.

“So you can deride me later for being lazy while you sat up all night?” Ashley crossed his arms and watched the fire. “No, thank you.” He felt more than heard Jeremiah sigh beside him and wondered at the lack of a return jibe. Perhaps the Captain was more tired than he wanted to admit. “What have we in the way of food?”

“Not much,” Jeremiah replied grimly. “I hope his Highness brought a fair amount, because I had anticipated being able to find food after our supplies ran out. But this forest is completely lacking.”

“Like the animals ran away as the people did,” Ashley said softly. “Then let us hope we can find a way out.”

Jeremiah grunted a soft agreement, and silence fell again. Despite his best efforts, Ashley found himself nodding off, head jerking up again and again. He shook it hard, sternly telling himself to stay awake, ignoring the eyes he could feel on him. But for whatever reason, Jeremiah remained silent. Sneaking a look, Ashley saw he was still awake.

He stifled a yawn, and watched the prince. Who, after another hour or so, had finally subsided into silence, moving restlessly but no longer crying. Ashley hoped that was a good thing.

“So I take it,” Jeremiah said, weariness creeping into his voice. “That this will be a story to add to your collection.”

“It’s not my collection,” Ashley said. “I just seem to the one in charge of it. But yes, I will adding every detail of this to it. If only so I finally have a way to shut you up the next time you begin to make a mockery of me.”

Jeremiah turned his head to watch Ashley briefly, then returned to staring at the fire. “As I recall, you began it.”

“You continued it,” Ashley said bitterly. “One fight did not mean you had to continue picking them. Thanks to you, I’ll probably be assuming Head Librarian within a matter of months and I’ve only one lazy assistant to help me.”

“It is not my fault all the apprentices are too intimidated to approach you,” Jeremiah said.

Ashley laughed. “Intimidated? There you go mocking me again. More like they do not want to be caught sharing the abuse I take from you.”

Jeremiah started to say something, then stopped. Ashley heard him mutter something, but could not make out the words. The dreaded silence resumed, and Ashley could not summon the energy to break it. Rather, he did not have the energy to continue bickering, and it seemed that was all they would ever do.

The thought should not have been as depressing as it was.

Ashley began to nod off again, head jerking up sharply as he caught himself. His eyes started to slip closed again but he caught movement by the prince and gasped. Scrambled to his feet, tripping over his feet and Jeremiah, who was trying to stand up beside him. An arm captured him about the waist, as Jeremiah steadied them both. “W-w-what is that?” Ashley asked, voice shaking.

Sitting behind the prince was a woman. Her hair was short, wavy and dark, skin pale and eyes bright, almost glowing. Ashley realized it wasn’t just her eyes that seemed to glow…and then he realized he could see right through her.

“Get away from him!” Jeremiah bellowed, shattering the stillness of the forest. He grabbed his sword and moved toward her – then froze, sword falling. He held his head, groaning in pain. “What the devil…”

“Jeremiah!” Ashley moved to his side, careful not to go any closer to the woman…thing looming over the prince. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know – but don’t get too close.” Jeremiah still held his head. “If this is what his Highness is going through, it’s no wonder he’s in such a state.”

They watched helplessly as the woman’s translucent fingers stroked over the prince, as if admiring a belonging.

Then the air shifted, and Ashley thought he smelled something like roses on the warm breeze that made the fire flare and the woman flinch.

He held a hand to his head, beginning to feel tired, dizzy. Beside him he felt Jeremiah slump, falling heavy against him. Around him, the dark turned gray, fuzzy. Where was the light coming come from?

Everything was still for a moment, as if in anticipation – then the laughter started. It rang out, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere. Ashley thought it sounded like the trees themselves were laughing. His eyes felt heavy, but Ashley fought it, sensing that would be the worst thing he could do.

Fingers brushed his hand, and he realized Jeremiah was still fighting it too. If Jeremiah could stay conscious, so could he.

Shadows shifted, altered, and became two men. The first was tall, his build only a bit slighter than Jeremiah’s. He had fine, dark auburn hair and green eyes so bright they were visible even in the gloomy forest.

The second man, Ashley noticed with a start, looked like a prettier, older version of Prince Ike. Dark, wavy hair and sharp blue eyes. Like the strange woman, they were transparent. Ghosts, his mind whispered, and he shied from the word but could not deny it entirely. Then the voices started, both in his head and all around. Like the fading laughter, it almost seemed as if the trees spoke though he could see the men were talking.

“Bitch,” the dark haired man said to the woman. His voice was hard, cold. It brooked no argument.

“I have as much claim to him as you,” the woman said with equal chill. “He is as much my blood as yours.”

“And like your son,” the man replied. “He will choose us over you!”

The woman stood, shaking with rage. “I have no son!”

“He was always too good for you anyway!”

The red-haired man threw his head back and laughed, the sound reverberating through the forest. “Now, now, my love. Less talk and more action. We’re harming the living.”

“The living will survive,” the dark-haired man replied impatiently. He flicked his eyes briefly toward them, seemingly satisfied by whatever he saw. He turned back toward the woman, who stood over Ike like a wolf guarding its kill. “Be gone, bitch. You tried to destroy us once and you failed. So long as we command this place, you will not hold sway!”

“Your power is fading, Prince.” the woman countered, shadows rippling around her feet like a black puddle.

The prince laughed, sounding like a cooler version of the man beside him. “I think not, bitch. You cursed me once and it was broken – you can no longer harm me. I trapped you here and here you will stay. Nor shall you ever have my family!” He threw a hand out, making the woman flinch. Ashley felt the warm breeze rise up again, the scent of roses stronger than ever.

“Reynard!” the dark-haired man snapped. “Stop watching and help me!”

“Yes, my love.” The red-haired man grinned and spread his arms wide, as if beckoning to the forest itself. “Come, my bandits. Is this our forest or not?” He threw his head back and began to laugh, soon joined by more voices than Ashley could count.

The laughter made the woman cringe, falter, and finally scream. “No! You were weak!” She held her hands to her ears and closed her eyes. “I will not give him up!”

“You will,” the dark-haired man said coldly. “You are a prisoner of the Laughing Forest, nothing more. I cannot kill you, but I will keep you in your place. Now go! Back to sleep!” He threw his hand out again, almost as if throwing something. The woman fought, shuddered, then collapsed into shadow.

Slowly the forest returned to silence. The dark-haired man approached Prince Ike. “He looks just like Fay, doesn’t he?”

Reynard chuckled. “He looks more like you, Briar.”

“Ridiculous.”

“What about them?” Reynard indicated Ashley and Jeremiah. Ashley watched them approach, curious and anxious.

Briar knelt and touched their hands. Ashley thought it felt like someone had splashed him with cold water. “They’ll be fine. We should get them out.” Briar smiled suddenly; it was small, quiet, but a smile all the same. Ashley was struck by how much prettier it made the already lovely prince.

He was further struck by the thought that he bet Jeremiah’s smile would be more impressive. He could still sense Jeremiah beside him, still but awake.

“Go to sleep,” Briar said.

Reynard laughed softly; it was the last sound Ashley heard.

*~*~*

It was warm. A moment later Ashley realized he could feel the sun on his back…and that he was lying alongside something warm but hard. The ground? His eyes felt too heavy to open. Ashley stirred, then settled. He thought he heard voices.

“There, that’s much better.”

“If I were them, I would kill you.”

“Good thing I’m already dead.”

“You!”

Ashley heard a sound like a soft sigh, and thought he smelled roses. Then nothing but the feel sun on his back, and something that was beginning to feel like metal pressed against his chest.

His eyes snapped open, and Ashley stared into eyes that strangely looked more like fresh water than ice. Then he realized he was lying half on top of Jeremiah, far too close for comfort, and attempted to scramble up, hands and elbows flying everywhere until the arms around his waist disappeared and he was more able to get to his feet.

He stood up, nearly tripping and falling back down.

Jeremiah stood more slowly, eyes immediately searching out and finding the prince. Ashley was torn between being relieved – the prince was fast asleep, and looked a hundred times better than he had in the woods – and wanting to wake him and give him a sound thrashing.

“So what now?” he asked.

“I guess we go home,” Jeremiah said. “And lock him in his room.”

“Agreed,” Ashley muttered. He glanced at Jeremiah, then looked hastily away.

Only a few days to the castle and his life would return to normal.

Not that normal was so thrilling, but he found suddenly that he wanted nothing to do with thrills. Ever.

And somehow he wasn’t surprised to see their horses waiting for them, packed and ready to go. “What?” he muttered sourly. “Couldn’t just take us home?”

He thought, for a moment, that he heard someone laughing.

*~*~*

At some point he’d heard the evening bells, and the quiet noises of the library drift into the sort of dead silence that now made him feel sick instead of soothed. His back ached, his eyes were sore, burning with effort and his hands, still sore and blistered from the journey, had been protesting for awhile. They’d probably start to cramp soon.

But…he didn’t want to go anywhere else. He dreaded it. Anything had to be better than another night eating alone in his room, crawling into his cold bed and falling asleep reading so he wouldn’t feel like he was falling asleep alone.

Prince Ike had been by a few times since they’d returned two weeks ago…but his father had been stricter than ever about what he did with his time and nearly all of it was spent in the King’s presence.

He was nearly done transcribing the Prince’s account of events. Ashley shook his head in an effort to ward off memories of the Dark Forest. The Laughing Forest. Most of the time, it seemed like a dream. More often, he pretended that it was and that he avoided his bed to avoid them.

But it wasn’t the dreams he was avoiding and he knew it. Ashley set his quill down and flexed his hand, trying to ease the ache. His hands were covered in ink; they would look a mess for months and even when they faded there would just be new stains to replace them.

Perpetually a mess, that was him. Ashley sighed. He’d recorded his own version of events, was nearly done with the Prince’s…he had only one more version to go…but he hadn’t seen Jeremiah since the night they returned home. Not a single glimpse; not even so much as hearing someone speak his name.

Ashley picked his quill up again and continued to write. His handwriting was perfect, he knew it was. He’d trained for years at everything that had eventually made him Second Librarian. And the Head Librarian was old; he had already declared Ashley would succeed him.

Around the edge of the pages he had been drawing leaves, roses, and other fanciful designs. The book would be a masterpiece when he was done.

Except that all such stories were supposed to have an end. Or at least, a better end than this one. ‘We arrived home safe’ sounded flat. Ashley set his quill down again and grimaced as his hand refused to be soothed. He should probably quit, if only to avoid ruining his own hard work. He did not want to redo the book, and even the Second Librarian could only burn so many candles in a day.

He picked his quill up again.

“So have you become a hermit now?” The voice, as implacable as ever, made Ashley jump.

“Damn it,” he swore, looking up at Jeremiah. But he glimpsed those ice-chip eyes and his own skittered away. “I nearly ruined this book! Do you know how long it takes to do this?”

Jeremiah looked at him. “Certainly not every hour of every day. Do you even eat?”

“Why should you care?” Ashley snapped, setting down his quill and sliding off his writing stool. He stumbled as he hit the ground, legs stiff and sore, unable to hold his weight.

Jeremiah caught him, steadied him…and did not let go. “How long have you been in this room? Aren’t you sick of the dark, after…” he flapped a hand, grimacing. “I cannot stand it.”

Ashley tried to pull away. “I’m surprised you’re even admitting to it.”

“I dislike such idiotic stories, but there’s no sense in denying I was part of one.” He frowned. “Hold still.”

“Let me go.”

“In a moment.”

Ashley glared back. “What do you want?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“So talk,” Ashley said. “So that I might get back to writing. And I do need your accounting of events.”

Jeremiah looked at him. “We both saw the same things, or did you forget we journeyed together?”

No, no he hadn’t. And wasn’t that the heart of the matter he’d been avoiding? Ashley sighed. “But we’re not the same person. All points of view must be accounted for.”

There was silence as Jeremiah considered him. Ashley fought to hold still and not fidget beneath those pale blue eyes. It really had never surprised him why every soldier in the castle was terrified of angering this man. “On one condition,” he said at last.

“What?” Ashley said. “You’re making conditions on telling me how you saw things?”

“Yes,” Jeremiah said.

Ashley glared. “What, then?”

Jeremiah sighed. “You are the most vexing…” he shook his head. “I wanted to know if we could start over.”

“…What?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Jeremiah was starting to look annoyed.

“Yes, because you make no sense!” Ashley tried to pull free of the arms holding him in place. “What on earth do you mean—“ His words were abruptly cut off, and then Ashley realized he was being kissed. He froze, eyes wide, as Jeremiah kissed him.

Jeremiah pulled away, frowning at the expression on Ashley’s face. His eyes seemed to harden, though not from anger. “Perhaps I was mistaken.” He abruptly let Ashley go and turned to leave.

Ashley stared. “No!” He snagged at Jeremiah’s sleeve. “I just—I never thought—why? What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremiah said. “I’d like to blame it on that damned Forest.” He stood still, as if waiting.

Ashley hesitated, looking up at the man who had been the biggest thorn in his side since he’d started working in the Royal Library. They started fighting when Jeremiah’s disregard for most of the library had sparked his temper. The antagonism had only worsened from there. But ever since the Laughing Forest… “So we start over?”

“I thought,” Jeremiah said, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “That this was how all your stupid stories ended.”

“I’m the one writing the damned thing, so I’ll end it however I want.” Ashley closed the distance between them and leaned up to kiss him.

 

Caroline's Bridegroom

There once was a village, at the edge of the kingdom, which was neither very small nor very large. It was a peaceful village, calm and set in its ways. And though it was situated right at the border, it did not see many travelers because of the thick, dark forest that surrounded it. The weather could be harsh in winter but by and large it was mild.

The people of the village were neither terribly poor nor terribly rich, living pleasantly and comfortably. If anyone could be considered especially prosperous in this village, it would be the owner of the village mercantile store. For he was the only one, and of the entire village most frequently knew what was occurring outside of the village. He was an amiable man, always friendly and eager to help.

Only the death of his wife marred his happiness, but every time he looked at his daughter his pain eased slightly, for every day the girl grew more and more like his deceased wife. His wife had been beautiful and his daughter too was possessed of loveliness, with hair like gold and eyes as clear and blue as the sky. She had a small spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and people liked to say that even the fairies found her lovely and had kissed her there to show their affection.

Her name was Caroline and despite the attention lavished upon her she grew up sweet and pleasant. She was friendly with everyone, but her best friend was a young boy from across the street, who tended to the town stables with his own father and mother. His name was Marshall and as they grew up together their friendship only deepened.

Then Caroline came of age, and her father decided it was time to consider marriage. For he would not be around forever and he wanted to know that he was leaving his daughter in good hands. And so he set quietly about finding a fitting suitor for his beloved daughter.

And Marshall knew this, though Caroline did not, and he knew also that he wanted Caroline for his own. But his family was poor and he knew he was not the best match her father could want – but he also refused to let this stop him trying.

When it came time for his parents to venture to the city to sell and buy horses, Marshall begged that he be permitted to go instead. Trusting him, knowing he was a good boy, his parents granted his request. And so Marshall took the horses and while there, bought a gift for Caroline with which he hoped to win her affection. It was a small, simple trinket but it was pretty and gold and perfect for his dearest friend.

Quietly he began to talk with Marshall’s parents, for all but perhaps the two young people could see that they were well-matched indeed. But Marshall knew it, had known it for years, and wanted to take Caroline as his wife. And so he waited eagerly but patiently for the parents to say something and even traveled away from the village one day, on pretext of selling some horses, to buy her a betrothal gift.

But upon his return he was met with dire news indeed.

In his absence, a man from a house deep in the woods – a man who had always been reclusive, sending his servants to do his shopping, keeping to himself, contributing to the village where he could but seldom interacting – had appeared with an offer for Caroline’s hand.

And he ran to Caroline’s house, and stopped just outside, staring through the window at the small happy party going on inside. Just an early lunch, but he could see Caroline smile in a way she’d never smiled before, and how she held her new bridegroom’s hand and leaned in close to him, laughing, eyes bright with happiness. And he saw the new ribbon in her hair, blue silk the color of her eyes, and the diamond and gold that sparkled on her finger. Items a poor stable boy would never be able to buy, and he wrapped his fingers around the small gift in his pocket, feeling with a pang the inadequacy of it.

Marshall looked at the new bridegroom and felt sick, for the man was very handsome indeed. Black hair, fair skin, dressed in rich clothes the likes of which Marshall had never worn nor ever would. And suddenly he hated his own clay-brown hair and boring brown eyes, so far removed from the bridegroom’s rich green ones.

He turned and fled, heart breaking, before anyone took notice of him, running from the village without even telling his parents he was home. And the gift he’d bought for Caroline with nearly all his savings burned a hole in his pocket and he longed to throw it in the river but could not bring himself to do so.

Aimlessly Marshall wandered through the woods, so familiar with them that he did not fear getting lost. Over and over the image of Caroline bright and happy beside the stranger tormented him, until he could no longer bear the pain.

By and by he came to a path in the wood that was only just worn – a path very seldom used. It was one he did not recall seeing before, though he knew where he was in the forest. Having nothing better to do, and desperate for a distraction, Marshall followed the path deeper into the woods until eventually the familiar grew strange and dark.

As he went, Marshall began to drop bright white pebbles intermittently to the ground. A gift from his mother, who swore she’d been given them by fairies; the pebbles would glow in moonlight and show him the way back should he be forced to travel in the dark. So long as he followed the stones he would not be lost.

Eventually his traveling brought him to a house, and he knew it to be the house of Caroline’s bridegroom.

It was a large house, three stories and at least four rooms across. He wondered at how such a magnificent house had been built so deep in the forest. Cobblestones lined the path from the edge of the clearing up to the front door. Roses grew all along the front of the house and the grass was rich and green. The shutters were painted a cheerful blue, bright against the dark brick of the house, and the door had a small stained-glass window.

Far better a house than the little one he knew his parents and Caroline’s father had secretly planned to build in the field at the edge of town, only a little way from the brook where they’d played as children. And the wildflowers they used to pick together were nothing like the rich red roses that managed to grow despite the cover of the heavy trees.

Miserable that he’d lost his Caroline to a man he did not even know, angry that he could not even compete, Marshall approached the house and knocked on the door before his good sense got the better of him.

There was no reply for several long minutes, though Marshall knocked three times more. At last it seemed that no one was home and as angry as he was he would not reduce himself to breaking into a man’s home.

But as he at last turned to leave, the door creaked open to reveal the ancient, wrinkled and withered face of an old, old woman. “May I help you?” she asked in a voice as slow and thick as molasses – as though it was hard for her to speak. Her blue eyes were dim, and Marshall wondered briefly if she had been drugged…perhaps to help with the pain suffered by the elderly?

“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “I’ve become lost in the woods and wondered if I might stop to rest for a spell, to recover myself.”

The woman blinked her dim eyes. “You are lying.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You are lying. Tell me why you have come.”

Marshall hesitated, and almost lied again, but the dim blue eyes looked at him unwaveringly and at last he nodded. “I…the man who owns this house has stolen the heart of the woman I love. I wanted only to know about that man, as he is a stranger to me and the village.”

The woman nodded. “You are a smart boy. Come in.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Marshall doffed his worn hat and stepped inside. The door closed behind them and suddenly he was washed with the scent of flowers – dozens of them, so many he could not pick out the particular scents. It smelled like the sickly sweet perfume worn by women in the city. Marshall instantly disliked it and as he examined the house through which the old woman led him, he saw more that he disliked.

Like the perfect cleanliness of the place. Even his tidy mother’s house had miscellany all around – a blanket thrown carelessly over her hold chair, a stray mug from his father’s morning tea. Dust on the floor when she was too busy to sweep on some days. This house was pristine; it looked as though it had been taken from a painting or an etching in a book.

No homely touches – not a quilt made by a loving mother, no old books handed down through generations. No ‘dust catchers’ of any sort. The house was…stale. As though it was for show and not really someone’s home.

Perhaps it was only that the man lived alone and did not have a wife to warm the place up. His father had often said he hadn’t considered his house a home until his mother came along and turned it into one.

But the doubts lingered.

“Who are you young man?” the woman asked as they finally came to a halt in a beautiful but cold dining room. It glittered with crystal and fine china, set against dark woods that Marshall knew were not native to that area. Silk and satin decorated the table and windows and he felt more like a poor stable boy than ever.

But one determined. “My name is Marshall; my family cares for the horses in town.”

“You came to learn of Master Maurus and because you seem to be a good, smart boy I shall show you some things. Follow me.”

She led him from the dining room into the kitchen and threw open the door to the cellar. Downstairs were several barrels and upon examination Marshall saw they each held either wine or ale. But the old woman did not stop at the barrels but continued onward toward the back, where a door was all but invisible in the corner behind a large barrel of wine.

Marshall followed her through the door, down another set of stairs that led deeper below ground than he would have thought possible. Down they went, and Marshall held out a hand to help the old woman.

As they went, the smell of damp earth was overridden by another, more wretched and sickening smell. Marshall was reminded of the butcher’s shop, the smell of meat and blood, an underlying scent of death.

At last they reached the bottom of the stairs and Marshall choked on a horrified cry, pressing his sleeve to his mouth to keep himself from retching. His eyes burned from the smell and tears.

Beside him the old woman’s cried her own tears. And though she tried, she could not say a word that would speak against her master.

The room was indeed a butcher’s shop. Parts and bones and blood were all over – lined up neatly on high tables, brewing in a large cauldron…again Marshall pressed the sleeve of his coat to his mouth to keep from gagging and puking.

Across a low counter were three heads and Marshall’s eyes burned anew with tears, for they were all young women and the head of one he recognized as a traveler who had purchased a horse from him before she continued on toward the city.

Unable to help himself he counted the parts in the room, noting with a sick, morbid fascination that at least eight bodies were present in the room – and there was no telling how many had come before that.

“Is this…is this what will become of my Caroline?”