‘My duty to uphold the law doesn’t end with humans, I’m afraid,’ the witch said, slapping the side of the brown sack which hung from her saddle. It wriggled and groaned at her touch. ‘This thing will be accompanying me north until I can find it a new home. There has to be a fairy-town somewhere that doesn’t cast out its elders like those around here…’

The early white of a sun still in its infancy now bled over the thick treeline that surrounded the fields and meadows through which they rode; Eryn, Prince Arún, and tailing behind on a weary grey mule, was the hunchback boy, Bherman.

Eryn had found her horse with Arún’s outside the barn. By whatever luck, the mare had seized its short stint of freedom to socialise with the only other horse it could smell once on the outskirts of Urnn. The two horses now walked side-by-side back up the winding road to Vhittering House. The road that was currently nothing more than a mere mess of rutted dirt and sand, though soon would become cobbles, and then slate.

‘Don’t you ever get tired of protecting every last aged little imp and infant pigmy?’ asked Arún. There was a degree of callousness in his tone that ought to have offended Eryn. It ought to have caused her a measure of distrust toward the prince – but it did not. In truth, she appreciated the relatability of it. So often had she heard the expectation in the inflections of others. The expectation that she relished the duty. That she welcomed acting scullery maid to a long-dead god.

‘Once it’s out of my hands, it’ll have to fend for itself. I’m not babysitting. If I leave it tomorrow and a day later its food for the dogs, I can live with that,’ she said. ‘It is owed shelter – but my duty ends when we find it.’

Arún looked at her and smiled. ‘A woman after my own heart.’

‘Not unless you can grow tits and a cunt,’ she replied, with a sigh.

Arún laughed. His smooth face wore an expression of genuine amusement, and the slightest pink hue.

Atop their horses, they could see far and well over the newly lit landscape. Startlingly dreamlike mists had rolled down from the hill and now blanketed the dew-soaked green and gold of the fields. Though, despite the whimsical scene, Eryn found her eyes would not linger on the beautiful horizon for long, as with each minor sound from the princess Dalia, her attention was stolen away.

‘What are you doing on this anyway, Eryn?’ said the prince after a short ride further. ‘I wasn’t aware petty familial disputes fell within a witch’s purview. Has Sjudil truly run out of blood-work?’

‘You’d be surprised what falls within my purview these days, Prince Arún,’ said Eryn. ‘Less and less I find that people are capable of dealing with their very minimal exposure to the wild. Less and less can kings and soldiers handle even the most mundane wild-thing.’

‘The curse of industry, dear Eryn. A product of isolating ourselves. Every day we strive to ascend from the very earthen barrows from which we hail. Soon we will touch the sky and think it too meagre,’ he said, looking up. ‘And as we fly higher we grow more distant to that which you protect us from. Perhaps the goal is to leave it behind altogether.’

‘That I could live with,’ Eryn said. ‘At least then fools wouldn’t be trying so hard to best it.’

‘One day perhaps. One day we may succeed in doing exactly that. To tame tomorrow what cannot be tamed today!’ the prince said in a joyful chord. Eryn wasn’t convinced. ‘But until such a time, I am afraid we must simply go on pretending it does not exist. I expect you’ll find yourself only becoming more frustrated the longer you live – which I suppose will be an awfully long time, knowing you witches… But a changeling? Really? I hope you’re charging an arm and a leg.’

‘You’re familiar with my past adventures. Is it such a surprise?’ asked Eryn. ‘I’ve always upheld Wild Law.’

‘True enough. Though, if I’m not mistaken, there has been no breach of Wild Law here. Not yet anyway. What reason could you have for aiding the viscount and not me? Other than that it was he who contacted you first. What law was broken?’

Eryn stayed silent for a while. When she spoke again, it was not to answer, but instead to announce a diversion of their course.

‘We’ll need to take this road. I’m afraid I may have left a great deal of debris in the way of this one.’

Arún half-smiled, and pulled on the reins of his horse, falling in line behind her.

They had come to the north-gate. A few groggy-eyed and bleary souls milled about them as they rode on; though very few acknowledged them, or spoke at all. The weight of disturbed sleep clung to each man, woman and child. Eryn could not help but lower herself a little in the saddle. Embarrassment was not a familiar feeling for her. Humiliation even rarer. And yet it was out of sheer embarrassment for her night-time antics that she tried in vain to shrink herself then. After all, it wasn’t often she came off a horse – and I’d appreciate it if the bards and tellers didn’t get a-hold of this one, she thought.

‘I suppose you’re wondering why, aren’t you?’ called Arún, as their party continued on in single-file through the narrow streets. ‘Why I must take the girl home? Why I went to the trouble of falling in with a wretched wildling creature?’

‘I’m more wondering how,’ said Eryn. ‘It’s certainly not the first curious coupling I’ve come across, but I’d be lying if I said I’d seen this particular one before. A changeling and a prince? Scandalous.’

‘That can be easily explained. The “why” is far more complex.’

‘Then tell me the former, and I’ll let you bore me with the latter.’

Arún sighed and said: ‘Very well,’ as though the secrets were to be extracted with even the tiniest degree of reluctance. It seemed to Eryn that the prince did not often find himself in the company of those who cared much what he had to say. She attributed that to what she called “the order.” The order in which a litter of princes and princesses were born. Those born first were likely to rule – and those about them knew it, and would act accordingly. Those who came later, naturally, did not matter quite so much. The girls were sent off like missionaries to foreign courts, to be swapped for a promise that was not always kept. The boys had it slightly better, but suffered more for it. If their elder brothers died in battle, they would inherit – but if they didn’t, they would lounge until fat, perverted and drunk, among dozens of courtiers doing the same, and all who addressed them as royalty, but considered them equal – or worse.

Arún adjusted his sky-blue cap; the feather at his back shuddering like the end of a fervently employed quill. ‘I became acquainted with the little grey devil while campaigning along the western coast nearly a year prior. A baron – whose barony we then occupied – revealed to us with rather a panicked tone, that his son-and-heir, a boy of only a few months, had been stolen away by fairies a week before our coming, and now, expected wholly for us to retrieve the whelp. I told him quite plainly that it was not of Berchmuld’s concern, and for him to seek the employ of a bounty hunter, or perhaps even a magician such as yourself if he could afford it. He bemoaned my reply and swore to seek revenge upon us – a slight, I’ll admit, but I was far from giving the fool an ounce of attention.

‘It was a few days following when he made his move. A half-witted assault on our temporary camp in the dead of night. The attackers were skinny and ill-trained, and we cut through them like butter. I was content to leave the matter there. After all, it is quite demoralising to lose one’s entire force in an evening, but to do so without even drawing the blood of one’s foes is truly rending.’

‘But you didn’t leave it there,’ said Eryn. ‘The baron of Aglia was killed during your occupation. I recall seeing his head on a pike.’

‘You were in Aglia?’ Arún chuckled. ‘My, Eryn, I shudder to think that I have been so close to meeting you on so many occasions and missed the chance by mere moments.’ He smiled the same dashing smile as he had in the barn. Eryn did not return the favour. ‘Anyway, yes, you are quite right. The man ended up dead. It was all an unfortunate side-effect of his timing, I’m afraid. The fool happened to strike on the very evening of my father’s arrival in Aglia – though the baron wasn’t to know. My father took the feeble attack as an assassination attempt and ordered the baron to face trial. Well, you can probably guess the result. The baron pleaded his case well, and even proved that he had initially laid out plans to attack a day earlier, but was waylaid on account of rain. He spoke well, and remained respectful, and swore upon Her name that he would forever act in service to our family – and he was promptly executed.’

‘Rough jury,’ said Eryn.

‘There was none. My father was the only voter,’ Arún said. ‘The poor fool wept on the stand.’

‘Well, if you can’t handle the heat…’

‘After he was dead, I was tasked with ensuring the inheritance of his estates was favourable. It would’ve done no good to conquer a barony, only for it to go to a neighbouring Duke on succession. Which is, of course, when I met the changeling in his son’s cot. Obviously the damn thing couldn’t inherit, so I made a deal with it. I told it that I would find it a grander home – if only slightly grander – and in return it would give back the boy taken.’

‘I assume that was a bluff. One that ended up working quite well for you. How long after did you decide on utilizing the imp in your mission to kidnap Dalia?’

‘It wasn’t until very late… as it wasn’t until much later that we became aware that our niece had survived. We had been led to believe she had perished with her mother in childbirth. I know not where we heard it. Perhaps it was the mere failing of my council – or perhaps it was Rangogh’s intention, to keep the girl a secret from us.’

‘You tried sending letters first.’

‘That I did. A great many. But the damned drunk was too stubborn. He would not listen. I considered other options which of course is when I recalled the deal I’d made with the changeling.’

‘So,’ said Eryn, sighing. ‘Go on, then. Why do it? Why put all of this effort into taking back the girl? She can’t possibly inherit Berchmuld – your succession principles lie in agnatic seniority, if I recall correctly. The best she could offer you is an alliance with some foreign power. And even still, haven’t you other children to sell off?’

‘The why is quite simple, Eryn. Berchmuld is not faring at all well in the war, I’m afraid. And it is war that has taken so many of my nieces and nephews from this earth. All slaughtered on the field or had their throats cut in their cribs. And all far too young… As a woman of such a distant realm as Koss, I expect little news of our campaign reaches you?’

‘I haven’t been to Koss in three centuries,’ said Eryn. ‘But you are right in thinking that news of Sjudil’s kingdoms doesn’t reach as far. I try to keep my ear to the ground wherever I am, however.’

‘Then you know all about it, I imagine?’ asked Arún. ‘Of our struggles against the ungovernable sods of this land – and our valiant effort to unite this once formidable empire? Sjudil is to all a mere remnant of what was. It is a word that means nothing – as it is not a country in any sense. There is no Sjudilian court, nor a Sjudilian emperor. We mean to fix that. To restore that.’

‘Do you think so little of me, Prince Arún?’ said Eryn. ‘You expect me to believe that Berchmuld is a righteous wind, inflating the sails of a by-gone empire with kindness and goodwill? How insulting.’

Arún’s face fell. ‘Apologies, Eryn. I am aware of Berchmuld’s sinister reputation – and there is indeed some truth to it,’ he added, catching her eye. ‘Sacrifices must be made to further our cause. The world is rarely so fair as to allow for greatness, without also demanding cruelty. War is not a place for good men. I would not expect you to understand.’

‘I understand better than you know,’ Eryn said, with a pained expression. ‘I know what it is to ride that line. To break a girl’s arm to save her life. To kill an innocent man to prevent a war.’

‘Then you agree that it is necessary?’

‘I don’t pretend to know,’ she answered, coldly. ‘I don’t paint the walls in blood and then sleep soundly afterward.’

‘No,’ said Arún. ‘That is the difference between you and me, Eryn. Faith. I believe that Berchmuld’s cause is right beyond a shadow of a doubt – even though I know that it is not.’ He saw that Eryn was looking at him, but did not meet her gaze this time. Instead, he fixed his eyes forward, and gazed into the warming horizon.

‘Why do you believe what you know not to be true?’

‘You have travelled this world for a great many lifetimes, Eryn. Can you honestly say that truth goes for much anymore? Can you honestly say that what is true matters at all? How many times have you known something to be true, only to be proven wrong later? How many times has the truth set you free, rather than imprisoned you? “The truth will out,” they say. Maybe that is the case – but when the truth is out, who will listen to it?’

‘I will.’

‘Then you will be alone in doing so.’

Their horses had reached the steep incline of the final stretch. A few feet on, the cobbles would break away to the expensive, blood-soaked slate of Vhittering House, and their journey would be at an end. Eryn hoped that before long the entire muddled affair would be at an end too.

As they dismounted, amidst a sudden surge of activity from the servants, Eryn spied the pile of corpses which had been stacked well onto a rickety looking cart. The mercenary Tuck’s vacant stare was fixed on the new sunrise.

‘Why the thugs?’ Eryn asked, as she accompanied Arún and a gaggle of servants into the house. ‘The imp told me you paid for them – but you own an army? Is the war going so poorly you couldn’t spare a single regiment?’

‘It was not I who procured their services,’ Arún said, glancing at the hunchback boy still standing by his mule in the courtyard. ‘Bherman informed me of your involvement and I authorised him to seek out some form of muscle. My army and I were far from Urnn when his letter reached me. I never expected them to do you much harm – only delay you. And it seems that if they had managed to die just a little slower, perhaps I would have reached that barn before you did.’

‘Why not ask Bherman to take the girl to you? He beat us both there it seems.’

‘Bherman riding alone with a child?’ Arún laughed. ‘I’d sooner strap her to a dog and send it off.’

‘Is he that unreliable?’

‘Heavens no,’ he said, looking surprised. ‘He was instrumental to this plan, and he will be honoured for it in Berchmuld, mark my words. No, it isn’t that. Hunchbacks, like a great many similar things, are not very well-liked, you see. If any soul on the road would’ve spotted him, he’d have been taken for a vicious abductor. A savage with a stolen prize. No-one would have believed that the child was his, or that he was entrusted with it. Do you know why, Eryn?’

‘Because he has no tongue and can’t make up an excuse?’

Arún cocked his head and smiled. ‘It is because he is ugly.’

‘Ugliness is subjective,’ the witch said.

‘Not that subjective. It is “people” who decide what is beautiful and what is not. The mob – rather than the individual. People prefer beautiful things and detest anything less, Eryn. It is the way of our world, I am afraid.’

Arún gave her a dismal smile and then, as she slowed, carried on past her, to be ushered by the loudest of the squabbling servants. Eryn lingered behind for a short while outside what must’ve been the kitchen, judging by the smell of fat and salt in the air.

She lingered there until the door swung open, and out strode a second gaggle of servants, emerging like a team of spectres from a cloud of steam. They had in their hands all manner of clattering object. Bowls and pans – pots and plates. Some were white porcelain, others glittering steel. The final servant hesitated in the doorway. In his hands was a sparkling silver cauldron whose contents, a steaming broth of some variety, was captured so easily by momentum that it threw him this way and that. Eryn watched in silence as he toppled with a resounding crash, and sent broth surging in a great lake from the threshold. The servant, taking one look at the now dented cauldron at his feet, tutted, and kicked it into a nearby corner.