Royce noticed the bruising before I was even awake.

  He shook me, his face painted with concern as he sat me up so he could look at it better.

  I tried to say that I’m alright, but my voice was much more hoarse this morning. It barely croaked out, and I know it probably worried him much more than any comfort it brought him.

  “What happened? Are you alright? Who did this to you?” He was repeating, turning my face from side to side. I gently took his hands away from the sore skin, gathering them up in mine despite them being much larger. I squeezed them gently, giving him a single nod.

  That’s when he noticed the fingerprint bruises on my cheeks, and the questions began anew.

  “She was attacked in her dreams.” Rupee said, appearing silently. She dragged the waterskin behind her. “She’ll be fine in a moment. Here. Drink.” She said, and I did.

  The sweet concoction burned going down. I gasped, ripping it away from my lips in shock. It was already taking effect, though. I felt like my skin was itching- no, that’s not it. Have you ever felt so much pain that the word pain no longer seems to encapsulate what you’re feeling? I could feel my nails clawing at my throat and face, and somewhere I heard Rupee tell Royce to restrain me as I struggled to continue to try to scratch the itching under my skin. I cried.

  It was over in a few moments. I was left gasping, tears still staining my face, and Royce still tightly clutching my wrists. He freed me, concern turning to anger as he spun towards the gnome next to him.

  “What the hell did you give her?” He demanded.

  “A healing potion. My apologies - it is something you get used to. I forgot what a strong effect it can have on someone the first time. It will aid your healing.” She said to me. “The next time you drink any, it should be more tolerable.”

  Numbly, I reached for my throat. I pressed my fingers to the cool skin and felt no tenderness. I couldn’t even find it in me to be surprised.

  Royce was incredulous, though. Rightfully so, I suppose, and it did feel good for him to finally seem surprised. He looked between my face and where the bruises no longer discolored my skin for a long moment. Then his face settled again.

  “Who did that to you?” He asked, a fierce protectiveness burning inside of him.

  “The cruel king.” I answered hollowly, knowing he would want more answers but also that I had no more to give. “He’s the ruler of these lands. And he knows that I’m going to kill him.”

  At that, Royce looked shocked. Rupee looked overjoyed. She let out a loud whoop, a shrill sound of victory. She didn’t give Royce a chance to ask any more questions, though I’m sure he was burning with them in much the same way I had been the night before.

  “If that’s truth, king-slayer, there are a few people I would like you to meet.” Before she was scurrying back towards the others.

  Royce caught my arm as I went to pass him, a million questions flashing behind his eyes. He didn’t ask any of them, though, just searched my face for a clue.

  I touched his face gently. “It’s all going to be alright.” I offered, and I meant it.

  This at least must have brought him some comfort, for he released my arm and followed behind me.

  When we emerged, the gnomes were gathered. Some watched from the bridges, almost at eye level with Royce, while others gathered on and around the tree stumps we had been sitting on the previous night. That’s where Rupee stood, beaming with pride.

  “King-slayers!” Rupee shouted, throwing her hands into the air, and the surrounding gnomes erupted in jubilee until she lowered her hands again. “We humbly request your assistance in a blight against us. Our people are in great danger. In exchange, we will teach you what we know, and ensure your safe travels to another ally who can aid in your efforts against the king.” Her words rang out, all of the gnomes’ eyes on us so intently I could physically feel the pressure of them.

  Well, not on us. On me.

  But it was Royce who spoke for us. He knelt on the forest floor, bowing his head in solemnity. “We accept your offer, and thank you again for your kindness.” He said loudly.

  Another cheer broke out, movement now exploding as younger ones linked arms together, swinging round each other. Some of the older ones raised their hands towards the sky in what almost appeared to be prayer, their eyes half-closing and their bodies swaying.

  Rupee was smiling broadly. Her hair reflected the sunlight straight-on, and almost made it look like she was glowing. “There are a few people I would like you to meet.” She said, much quieter this time. She gave Royce an appreciative look as he sat back on his knees.

  I sank down next to him.

  The other gnomes were already beginning to break up, going back to their tasks in the hollows of the trees or preparing for a hunt. A few remained steadfast on the tree stump next to her.

  “This is Greta, our healer. She made the healing potion for you.” Rupee waved towards an older gnome, heavily leaning on a small stick fashioned into a staff. Her hair was frazzled and white, sticking out in odd bits of her braid like she hadn’t redone it in some time. Her skin was still oddly smooth, something that must have been a commonality among the gnomes. Despite some of them looking elderly, no wrinkles marred their features.

  The woman took a shambling step forward, every movement seeming painful. “I have been waiting many, many seasons for you to come.” Her voice was surprisingly soft as she bowed her head towards us. “I can teach you how to use the resources of the forest around you. What is safe to consume, how to craft simple potions. It is not much, but I offer my services humbly.”

  “Thank you, Greta. We would greatly appreciate that.” I bowed my head to her, as well, as Royce did the same.

  She stepped back as Rupee continued.

  “You briefly met Hamish yesterday. He’s a man of few words.” She motioned towards a much sturdier-built gnome than the others. Harsh scowl lines darkened his features, and he did not step towards us or even act like he heard Rupee’s announcement. “He’ll be showing you how to traverse the forest without leaving tracks, how to build trips, some basic hunting and gathering.” Rupee cast a glare at the stoic man and continued on with her introductions.

  “Fallon is Greta’s assistant.” She waved to a younger woman, who was dressed in petal leaves that resembled a budding flower. Her dark hair fell in waves that hid her deeply blushing face as she offered a small wave, then quickly bowed her head as if not to seem offensive.

  I giggled, a little, at that. I offered her a smile, though I’m not sure how comforting a smile is from a giant standing in front of you. It seemed to ease some of her concerns, though, and she stepped back into place quickly.

  “Topher is our weapon craftsman. It will be a challenge for him, but we have got the assistance of a few other gnomes to aid him. He will be taking both of your measurements.” She nodded to a slender, mud covered gnome who lowered his head to us quietly.

  “And Hamish will introduce you to some of the other hunters you’ll be working with. For now, I think it would be the best use of our time if you divided and allowed each to teach one of you what they can.” She continued, looking back towards us as if for our input.

  I shook my head quickly. “Would it be possible for us to remain together? We could both benefit from the knowledge- and we prefer to stay together.”

  Though I saw Hamish rolling his eyes and cursing under his breath, Naomi was nodding. “Perhaps you’re right. What good does it do for just one of you to know how to craft an antidote if you’re the one poisoned?” She seemed to add that last part just due to Hamish’s silent protests. “Breakfast should be ready soon. And then we’ll begin.” She gave a single nod to the others, who began climbing down from the tree stump.

  I watched as Fallon struggled down, then turned with outstretched arms to attempt to help Greta down. Gently, I offered my hand to the elderly woman. After a moment, she accepted, stepping onto it and allowing me to lower her to the ground. She tapped her cane against my hand as if to thank me, and I saw Fallon take a deep sigh of relief.

  Topher was moving around us, passing us vines to use to measure our height and arm-spans. I wasn’t sure what he was going to be making, but he seemed to be satisfied with his measurements and dragged an armful of vines back with him.

  “You said that you were in grave danger.” Royce was already saying to Rupee. “How can we help?”

  “I appreciate your eagerness, though I fear restraint is necessary right now. We do not know our exact enemy, though we fear they know us greatly.” Her face darkened as she spoke. “Our scouts started reporting seeing other gnomes nearby. Normally, that is not an issue. We are not typically hostile towards each other. Then our scouts stopped returning. Our traps began being interfered with, or the game that it had caught was killed. Not taken, just left bloody and unusable.”

  Royce and I shared a worried glance. “You want us to kill other gnomes?” He repeated slowly.

  Rupee took a deep sigh. “No. I do not want you to. However, I need you to. We have already attempted a parley. Three of our men were lost. Gnomes that spill the blood of their own kind are cursed- it is a common superstition among our people. I cannot ask my men to hunt down whatever is stalking us in the forest. Whether or not the superstition holds any truth… Well, they believe it. And that is all that matters to me.” She had a hard determination about her that wasn’t always visible, but it shone through in this moment.

  “You have been more gracious to us than we can repay you for.” Royce began, lowering his head in respect to her. “This is a great responsibility you have laid at our feet. May my wife and I have a moment to converse, privately?”

  Rupee bowed her head in return to him. “Yes. You have much to discuss. Join us for breakfast whenever you are ready.” She hopped down from the tree trunk, too.

  The two of us retreated back to the area with our mossen beds. Royce’s face had grown creased when he turned back to me, gripping my arms tightly.

  “What is going on?” He sounded incredulous.

  I almost laughed. I just couldn’t. “Our new gnome friends want us to kill their new, evil gnome neighbors.” I managed to summarize, my tone flat though I was attempting sarcasm.

  His grip on me tightened, slightly. “They are calling us king-slayers. I woke up to you being attacked in your dream apparently hard enough to bruise your physical body. How am I supposed to protect you from that? What is going on?” He repeated. Worry burned behind his eyes.

  A piece of me broke, at that. At him finally questioning. I felt myself lean into him, like his grip was the only thing keeping me standing. He seemed to feel it, too, and we slowly sank to the ground together.

  “It was terrible.” I finally managed after a long moment of him just holding me. “I didn’t know where I was. I was chained to the floor, and there was something in my mouth so I couldn’t speak. There was a man on a throne, and he said he was going to kill me. And when that didn’t scare me, when I didn’t react, he said-” my voice broke as tears threatened to spill.

  Royce’s hand was splayed across my lower back, his thumb comfortingly rubbing circles into my skin. “What did he say?” He urged after I didn’t continue for a moment.

  “He said he would just kill you, then.” I did not manage to hold back the tears any longer, and he pulled my head into the crook of his neck as a sob wracked my body. “I got angry. I lashed out- but he was so much stronger. I thought he was going to kill me.”

  He held me as I cried into him for a long time. “You’re okay,” he repeated in my ear gently. “I’ve got you.”

  I calmed down enough to pull away slightly. “When I woke up, Rupee was waiting. Like she knew I would have the dream. She told me-” I hesitated, momentarily. I couldn’t tell him the whole truth- that some part of me thought she was holding back the part of the prophecy that named him. I hated lying to him, but this was my burden to carry alone. “She said that the land is magic. The creatures. There are gods and monsters here. And the crown, it can only be worn by humans. Whoever wields it controls the land. It reflects back whatever is inside of the king.” I tried to explain the best I could from what she had told me last night.

  His eyebrows had knitted together while he listened intently. He knew I would not pull his leg, or lead him on. I was always… Well, I was always the cynic. “Rupee called him the cruel king.” He pieced together.

  I nodded. “Apparently, his fears have changed everything. Made the land more inhospitable.” I agreed. “And…” I added slowly, reaching for the piece of cloth still tucked away inside my pocket. “She told me that the prophecy for the king-slayer has foretold a woman, with fire in her hair and heart, and with stars on her shoulders.” I pressed it into his hand without looking at it again.

  He opened it, and looked between it and me for several moments with a wild expression on his face. “This is your…” He managed breathlessly. I’m sure his current expression mirrored my own shock and confusion, so a part of me understood why Rupee found it a bit amusing.

  “My birthmark. On my shoulder. Just like the prophecy said.” I finished for him. “That is apparently from one of Rupee’s several-great grandmothers. She said it’s become the symbol of rebellion in Amboria.”

  After several moments, he gave the cloth back to me. His eyes shone. “No,” he said simply.

  I felt my jaw drop for a moment, grasping the thin cloth like it was the one thing keeping me centered to the earth. “No?” I repeated back, incredulous.

  “No. You’re not a killer, Evelyn. I’m supposed to just let you go fight some all-powerful king and sit on my ass?” He demanded, passion making his voice raise slightly.

  I flinched slightly. “Of course not, Royce. I wouldn’t do anything without you. But how am I supposed to argue with this? I wrestled with it all night- I can’t find a single good explanation for this.” I repeated, unfolding the cloth again. “Everything else- maybe, and that’s a very strong maybe, but this?”

  He wouldn’t look at it, just shaking his head. “I don’t care. I don’t care about some prophecy, or dreams, or potions. You are my wife. I am supposed to protect you. How can I protect you from any of this?” He asked, his voice breaking. He ran his hand through his hair, turning away from me for just a moment. “None of this makes any sense, Evey.”

  I laughed a little; I couldn’t help it. “None of this has made sense since the second I woke up on that beach.” I agreed, shaking my head slightly. “I… I didn’t believe her when she told me last night. But you saw those bruises. They were from a dream. The king tried to kill me because he was scared I would kill him. Because I can kill him.”

  Slowly, he turned back to me. He seemed to be at least a little calmer as he took a deep breath. “So, you’re going to be a king-slayer?” A hint of amusement colored his voice, the faintest of a smile touching his lips.

  “You don’t think I can do it?” I feigned shock, grateful for the moment of levity between us.

  He laughed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear absentmindedly. “I know that you can.” He kissed me softly.

  “Can one of us finally say it?” I asked when we broke apart.

  He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

  I rolled my eyes, but asked anyway. “Is this real?” I breathed, finally allowing it to be said aloud. “I haven’t lost my mind?”

  He chuckled at that, which I will admit slightly frustrated me, though I did not comment. “No, Evey. I don’t think people share the same delusions when they lose their minds.”

  I pulled away from his embrace, frowning. “This isn’t funny. I have dementia, Royce. What if you’re not even real? I can’t even ask you to tell me something only you would know- my memories would be playing tricks on me.” The sudden realization dawned on me rather abruptly, and I felt the familiar tendrils of panic tether themselves in my stomach as the thought began to take life in my mind.

  He turned my face towards him, his touch gentle but firm. “So I need to tell you something you don’t know?” He said, as if it were so simple.

  “What?” I found myself asking, but he was already speaking again.

  “If I need to prove that I’m real, I need to tell you something that only I would know, but you would not. That would prove that I was real, correct?” He continued.

  Understanding his logic, I slowly nodded. “I suppose?”

  He cocked his head to the side for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. His fingers still rested gently on my cheeks as they tapped in pantomime recollection. “I called your father a bitch on the night of Charlotte’s birth.” He finally said after a moment of silence.

  I felt my mouth fall open with a shock. “You did not!” I exclaimed, feeling my heartbeat quicken like my father was a current threat I had to worry about and not rotting in his grave. “You couldn’t have! He wasn’t even there the night of her birth-”

  “He was, Evey. He stumbled in, and I could smell the booze on him. I told him to leave, that your one request had been for him to not be drunk when he came. Things got a little physical. Words were said. He never drank around you again, though, or we left as soon as he started.” His eyes held mine earnestly, like he was confessing something that had been weighing on him for a very long time.

  My daddy had been a horrible drunk. Would drink the imitation vanilla mama kept in the counters when he couldn’t afford it, or when mama had pitched big enough a fit and thrown it all out.

  Royce’s words, though it took me a few minutes to think back, rang true. I assumed my father was trying to clean himself up, at least slightly, to be a grandfather. It makes more sense, I suppose, that he was actually just intimidated by my husband. Fear was the only thing that ever really motivated him, anyway.

  “I never knew that.” I finally said.

  His eyes softened. “I never wanted you to know. I will always protect you.” He spoke with such conviction it was hard to resist him. “So, do you believe me, now?”

  Slowly, I nodded. My heart ached- but not out of pain. Out of love. My love for him, and his love for me. The sacrifices both of us have made silently over the years without ever wanting to worry the other. The wars the both of us have waged to keep the other safe.

  He smiled, and pulled the two of us to our feet. “Good, because I heard the breakfast bell ten minutes ago and I’m starving.”

  I elbowed him softly in the side, always grateful for his adaptability, though I could not deny the grumbling in my stomach, either.

  Before we joined the others, though, he held me tight. Just for a moment. My head rested against his chest, where I could hear his strong heartbeat. It always brought me comfort. In our later years, it had grown weaker and more arrhythmic. Hearing it returned to its healthy youth again brought me deep comfort.

  And then he released me, taking my hand as we joined the others that had already gathered for their meal. A large ‘plate’- a massive leaf that had been seemingly calcified- of eggs and mushrooms that still had steam rising off of them waited for us on the tree stump.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Rupee smiled at us as we sat. “Change of plans. Hamish wants to take you when you finish your meals.”

  “He wants to?” Royce repeated back, scooping up eggs with a makeshift fork made out of twigs they had left for us.

  Rupee laughed at that. “It is not because he is eager to train you. My ex-husband is a man of little faith. He has a trial for you to prove yourselves.”

  At the term ‘ex-husband’, Royce and I shared a glance. We had certainly felt some tension coming off the two, but didn’t realize it was that complicated.

  “A trial?” I found myself asking instead of questioning her on her ex-relationship.

  “Mm. I don’t even know that you’ll be able to pass. But he wants to try.” She shrugged casually.

  “What happens if we don’t pass?” Royce pressed.

  “Nothing, silly. Hamish still doesn’t believe you’ll slay the king. The rest of us do. The only thing that would change would be if you did pass, and then he might believe in you.” She spoke around a bite of eggs.

  Royce nodded.

  We ate in almost silence after that, both of our minds on whatever trial Hamish could possibly set up to prove whether or not we were worthy.

  By the time he stepped towards us, and our plates were empty, I was almost sure that I was not worthy.

  We followed after him silently. He did not stop, though. We trekked through the forest for nearly an hour before Royce finally asked where we were going.

  “You’re the king-slayers, then?” His voice was gruff when he answered. “Then this shouldn’t be too hard for you. Just a little ways further.”

  We shared a glance, but kept following. Being bigger did not give us much of an upper hand when it came to keeping up with the deft way he moved over familiar terrain, so by the time he stopped, I was winded and panting.

  We had broken free of the trees. We now were on a rocky cliff-side. I could hear the ocean several hundred feet below where the drop off was.

  Hamish pointed, and we followed where he was pointing to see a small temple to our left. “Go in there and bring me back the sword. And maybe I’ll believe the two of you have got a chance of slaying anything.”

  Royce looked between him and the cafe for several moments, concern coloring his features. “We don’t have any weapons.” He said slowly.

  The gnome cursed under his breath. “There’s nothing in there that’ll get you. Just come back out with the sword.”

  The temple was ruined, barely the size of a shack before what seemed a millennia had passed. Stone was worn down to white, what looked like stained glass in some places where it wasn’t shattered had been so bleached by the sun it had lost all color.

  We stepped towards it, Royce taking my hand in his before shouldering in the wooden door that screamed before falling off its hinges.

  Inside, it was almost empty. Stone pews sagged under the weight of time. An altar had been smashed, glass and shining bits of metal littering the floor. In the center, though, sat a stone. The handle of a sword emerged from the top.

  “A sword in a stone?” Royce’s voice was dubious. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stepped towards it. I could see his hands shaking as he reached for it. Both hands wrapped into a fist around the hilt. And he pulled.

  I watched as his muscles strained as he pulled. The beads of sweat that popped up on his brow as his grip became clammy and began slipping.

  He exhaled a deep breath, finally releasing his grip on the sword.

  Hamish’s laughter echoed through the chamber. “I knew you didn’t have it in you. A bunch of fools running off to their deaths.” He chuckled to himself, already turning around to leave.

  Royce’s eyes caught mine. Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m not the king-slayer.” He did not look away from me as he said that.

  Hamish stopped. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m not the king-slayer.” He stepped away from the stone, motioning for me to take his place.

  Numbly, I stepped towards him.

  My hands wrapped around the warm leather of the hilt. I did not pull, for I did not need to. The blade slipped free in my grasp, like nothing had been holding it there. Like the stone was just butter.

  First an inch, then two, then I unsheathed the full length of the long-sword, the metal burning brightly as I turned back towards Hamish with it in my hands.

  “My wife is.” Royce said proudly, depositing a kiss on the side of my head.

  Hamish was aghast, looking between the two of us with a slack jaw for several moments. “How did- that’s not-” he stammered for words, but Royce was having none of it.

  “I believe what you mean to say, Hamish, is that you’re sorry for disrespecting my wife like that. You’ll never doubt her again.” Royce raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the much smaller man. The threat hung in the air between the two men for a moment.

  Hamish swallowed, once, then nodded. “We should be getting back. This is big news.” He grumbled as he turned to leave.

  Royce smiled at me. He stepped back, his hands wide as he released me like he was boasting me forward.

  I raised the sword. I will admit, I do not know much aside from when my son was going through a pirate phase in the ways of sword-fighting. I expected to struggle to raise it, but it was light in my hand. It felt like an extension of my own arm as I moved it around me.

  Royce was laughing as I lowered it. “You’ll be slaying kings in no time.” He threw his arm around me as we started walking back towards the sunlight.

  I felt a pang. I had no excitement when I reached for the blade. It was like some part of me knew it was just waiting for me. Maybe that’s why I let Royce struggle first, though he was plenty eager himself. When my fingers closed around the hilt… it was like it already belonged to me.

  The ache came from something different, though. The nagging feeling, the pained expression on Rupee’s face when I pressed her… where did my Royce fall into the prophecy? And why wasn’t he worried about it, too? Did a part of him already know?

  I did not speak on any of these fears as I stepped out into the dazzling sunlight. Hamish was waiting for us at the edge of the trees, kicking rocks impatiently.

  Silently, he led us back to the others. It was longer than I remember the first trip being, but maybe that was the forest playing tricks on us again. Dusk had fallen by the time we finally made it back to the small clearing of trees.

  I heard the silence fall with a collective gasp as we emerged, sword still grasped in my hand. Rupee stood so quickly she knocked her lantern she was trying to light to the side. Greta’s hands flew to her face in surprise.

  “You’ve done it.” Rupee sounded shocked, like she had not believed it herself. ‘You’ve done it!” She repeated louder, a cheer erupting from the ones surrounding. “You’re just in time for dinner, sit! Sit, and Greta will tell you the story of that sword.”

  We did as we were told, and I laid the sword out in front of me at our feet. Several of them came closer, staring at their own reflections in the perfect blade.

  Fallon brought Greta’s seat closer to the tree stump so we could hear her as a plate of roasted squirrel and potatoes was hoisted towards us.

  “I thought I would never see that sword again.” Greta began, lowering herself into her chair. “It’s been… oh, almost two hundred years. It was forged by elves for a human, a beautiful human man. He was so kind, and charming. We all thought he was going to be the one to kill the king.” She spoke as she ate, everyone gathered close to listen to her. “He came to our little clearing, and brought with him fruit and wines. We danced three nights away with him. And then he left. I think the land felt him die. It hasn’t wanted to hope again since his death. The earth held onto his sword for over two hundred years. It has finally been released. Amboria has hope again.”

  There were cheers. A few tears in the eyes of the elders. And then Greta spoke again. “I believe it’s past my bedtime. I do hope to teach our new heroes a few things in the morning?” She sent a wink in our direction as Fallon helped her to her feet.

  “Goodnight. I hope you can rest peacefully tonight.” Rupee bowed her head as she stood.

  Royce and I retired to our beds of moss.

  As we laid down, I found myself deep in thought.

  He seemed to notice. “Are you alright?”

  I nodded, and then shook my head. He pulled me to him, tucking me head beneath his chin. “You want to know something else I never told you?” He asked, his hand once again tracing invisible shapes into the skin of my back.

  I nodded.

  He took a deep sigh, pantomiming thinking again. “Do you remember when Charlotte got so sick we had to throw away the couch?” He finally decided.

  I raised up just a little bit, feeling like this one was going to be interesting.

  He laughed before he spoke, a lumbering sound that shook his chest that I laid on. “That may or may not have been because we attempted to make cookies while you ran to the store, and she ate the entire batch of cookie dough when I turned around.”

  “Royce!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything to the doctors? We took her to the emergency room!”

  He was still laughing, holding me tighter so I couldn’t bat at him. “I did! I snuck out of the room and told them the truth. I just asked them not to tell you.”

  After a thorough chastising, I fell asleep on his chest.

  And I slept so peacefully.

  ***

  Our morning was busy.

  Hamish, though no longer questioning our capabilities of king-slaying, hated being wrong. He was grumpy as he taught us how to make a basic snare, snapping at Royce for supplying that he had done this before. “Oh, have you? Well, what do I know? You’re all ready to go off on your own then! I’ll let Rupee know.”

  We didn’t say anything else after that.

  Greta was a fountain of knowledge. Royce and I sat criss-cross in front of her, leaning on that cane atop the wooden stump. She spoke quickly- thankfully, Fallon had made a small notebook out of dried leaves stitched together with thin vines for us to reference with rough sketches of what was safe to consume and how many different uses it may have that she was bashfully proud of.

  Potion making did not come easy to me, much in the way baking had never. I liked to think of myself as a great cook, don’t get me wrong- but the precision and patience baking requires is something I always lacked. Every birthday cake ever eaten in our household was baked by Royce, who of course also seemed to have a knack for potion making.

  It came easily to him. While my small pot boiled over, his simmered perfectly. Mine curdled and clotted while his reduced to a smooth, sticky syrup.

  Greta fawned over how quickly he was picking it up, how almost no men ever appreciate the art for it. She patted my cheek and said, “We’ll try again tomorrow, dear.”

  Royce was giddy. “What?” He exclaimed at my slight reproachful look. “You get to be the chosen one and you’re mad because you’re not immediately good at something?”

  I frowned at him. “Yes. Just like I’ve always been.” It was unfortunately true. I had picked up many interests over my life, but never mastered anything on my first attempt. Interest was lost quickly after I realized I would not be the best at something. He had always chastised me, saying that being the best was not the point of enjoying something.

  I disagreed. I felt nothing I ever created would be worth anything to anyone, so why try?

  He ruffled my hair affectionately, still smiling.

  “Why don’t we go get a bit of sword practice in before dinner?” He asked, looking to where Rupee was deep in what appeared to be a heated conversation with her ex-husband.

  I agreed, following him back to what had become our area. Only Rupee ever disturbed us, and that was rare.

  Having the sword in my hand was still such a strange feeling. It was almost weightless, though I knew that not to be the case. Royce struggled under its weight when he held it for me momentarily, like the sword did not wish to be yielded by anyone but me.

  It cut through the air quickly. I did not have to think about moving. I could almost close my eyes and let the sword do the work for me. Almost.

  When I opened my eyes again and stopped, Royce was looking at me closely. His head tilted to the side slightly, he finally spoke. “I don’t think Ethan made you into that good of a sword-fighter.” He was almost frowning as he said it. “I’ve seen combat trained men not be half as fluid.”

  I shrugged, though I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Not on me, but his eyes were glued to the sword in my hand. “It’s like it moves for me.” I agreed, looking down at the blade in my hands. “I can almost hear it, whispering to me. Telling me how to hold it, where and when to let it fly.”

  His brows grew closer together at that. “I’m glad we have a real weapon, but that worries me a little bit.” He admitted.

  I nodded, though I didn’t share his concern. The sword just felt… right.

  I did decide not to worry him any further, and tucked it away under our bundle of moss where we had been keeping it.

  We rejoined the others. I could still feel his scrutiny. I tried to ignore it.

  “Greta tells me you’ll be relying on Royce for the potion making.” Rupee stated as she sat next to us, winking slyly.

  Royce laughed at the look of shock on my face.

  “She said we would try again tomorrow!” I objected.

  Fallon joined us, settling in comfortably beside Rupee. “That’s her nice way of saying ‘wow, that was terrible.” She teased.

  “Careful, you two,” he cautioned. “The one thing she likes worse than being bad at something is being called out on it.”

  I sent Royce a playfully reproachful glance. “Don’t worry. I’m planning on just copying everything he does tomorrow.”

  They all laughed, Rupee deciding to inform me that she was sure timing was my only issue. Royce agreed that I had always been a bit impatient. I gave up.

  Dinner was as lighthearted as the last. More of the gnomes were becoming familiar with us. A few of the children gifted us with small items; a few flower hair pins, an acorn fashioned into a lapel for Royce.

  Through a bit of pointed questions from both Royce and I, we discovered that not only were Hamish and Rupee recently divorced, but Fallon was their daughter, and Greta was Hamish’s mother.

  With full stomachs and heads swimming with trivial, semi-petty knowledge on some of the gnomes now, Royce fell asleep quickly.

  I find myself scared again. Of what? I had not decided. There were many things to choose from. That the cruel king would visit me again once I laid my head down. That despite Royce’s recent revelations, perhaps I had just gone mad. Or better yet, why everyone kept dancing around the rest of the prophecy without sharing it.

  This has always been my problem, I suppose.

  Worry myself to sleep and wonder why I barely get any.

  Our small fire is dying.

  I suppose I can’t put it off any longer.

  ***

  I don’t think I dreamed. At least, when Royce shook me awake, it was peaceful.

  It was another eventful day. Hamish taught us how to scale trees quickly and quietly, the right spots to anchor ourselves for sleeping in the branches. He was still grumpy, but we didn’t aggravate him to the point of snapping, at least.

  He enjoyed giving Royce a hard time. Making him do the same thing over and over again, even though it had been done correctly the first time. I think it was some sort of payback for Royce making him apologize to me. It didn’t matter the reason, I got to giggle as he tore into my husband and Royce just set his jaw in annoyance.

  Greta was impressed by my overnight improvement. What she didn’t know is that Royce had changed his position so I could look over his shoulder the whole time. He stifled a laugh as she said it, and I shot him a warning look.

  It had all the markings of being a good day. We aren’t given too many of those in a row.

  The scream made the dull lull of conversation end abruptly. Children fled for their hollowed holes across the vines. The hunting party immediately leapt for their weapons.

  Royce and I rushed towards the sound, abandoning our almost finished potions. It didn’t take us long to find where it had come from, a few dozen feet away from their small grove. Where the traps Hamish had set with us yesterday were.

  I saw Fallon’s pretty petal dress first. It was splayed out on the forest floor oddly. For a moment, I thought it had been her that screamed, but then I saw Hamish kneeling over her. His face was wet with tears, reddened with emotions. It had been him that screamed, or was still screaming as he took in another haggard breath.

  I heard Rupee behind us. She took a tentative step forward. “Fallon?” She called. “Hamish, what is going on?”

  He finally looked up. There was something wild behind his eyes, something horrible to hold gaze with. “This is your fault.” His voice was rough as he spoke. “I told you to learn what you could and leave and you stuck around and- and abused your hospitality and now my daughter is dead.” He stood, and we could finally see Fallon underneath him.

  Her eyes gazed upwards, blank and unfocused. Blood darkened the pastels of her dress. Her smooth skin had been gashed open and left her bleeding out.

  Rupee made a strangled noise and fell to her knees. A few others had gathered at this point, hunters whose weapons dropped in shock when they saw and heads immediately bowed in prayer or silent tears.

  “She was just supposed to be checking the traps. This is your fault.” Hamish cried, still glaring at us. “You need to leave, you have to go-”

  “Hamish, I’m so sorry-” I stammered, but Royce was pulling me away. He had a hard look in his eyes as he turned away from the gnomes.

  “No.” Rupee said hoarsely. She still looked dazed, but she struggled to her feet. “No.” She repeated, firmer. “You have suffered a great loss, as have I, and everyone that knew her. But you do not speak for us. They are our guests. And they will be the ones to avenge our daughter.” She said earnestly.

  Hamish looked at her first, then us, disgustedly. He shook his head, once, and stomped off away from their small grove.

  Rupee tried to apologize, but the words didn’t come out quite right. After a moment, she gave up on trying to. She was besides herself with grief. We excused ourselves.

  I could tell just from the stiffness in Royce’s shoulders as he walked that he was upset. They were rigid, moving in perfect tandem with his footsteps. The gait of a soldier who had seen too much and had to keep marching.

  My heart ached for him. I had hoped the only warfare he would ever see again was the one behind his eyelids when his nightmares would make him toss and turn. He returned home from the war a changed man. He was still my loving, kind husband. But there was something different. Something colder.

  I think I know what it was now. Blood on a small, pretty dress. The look in someone’s eyes as you take their life from them. People looking at you like you were a monster when you were just a pawn in a war you didn’t understand and didn’t enlist in.

  When Royce was drafted, I tried to fight it with everything I could. Every medical reason was written off, every complaint I had stifled. He was shipped off to war and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. And here I am again, watching the man I married be hardened into something that he is not and being powerless to stop it.

  When he ripped the moss up above the sword, I almost wasn’t surprised.

  “We're going.” His voice was gruff.

  “Royce-”

  “You heard what he said. We’ve overstayed our welcome.” He continued, packing our small belongings into one of the backpacks of vine they had been crafting for us.

  “He’s a grieving father who just found his daughter’s mutilated body.” I retorted, unmoving. “You heard Rupee. The others don’t feel that way-”

  “Well, maybe I do.” Royce spun on me, his nostrils flaring. “Maybe I agree with him.”

  We did not argue often. We made a point to never have a disagreement in front of our children long ago, and even when they were grown and out of the house, we still would calmly discuss whatever our issues had been.

  Arguing was a very difficult thing for me. Anger at all, really. It took me back to being a small girl, helpless as my father raised a hand against my mother.

  I instantly felt my throat close up. I stared at him, mouth opening and closing as I tried to form words but nothing came. Tears blurred my vision but did not fall.

  “Maybe we are the reason that she’s dead.” He continued, but I could hear in his voice that he was already deflating.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t let myself think that. I couldn’t carry that guilt. The tears did fall now, silently streaming down my cheeks.

  Somewhere, though, I think I knew he was right. He was confirming what we both already knew. It was our fault, and her blood would not wash away easily.

  “Evey,” he said, and I heard his voice crack. “Evey, come here.” He pulled me to him roughly. I cried into his shoulder.

  I pulled away from him when I heard someone approaching.

  It was Rupee. Her eyes were dark, and it looked like each step she took was painful. “Greta did not take the news well. I don’t know if she’ll make it through the night. Hamish is with her now.” Her voice was hollow as she spoke.

  Royce pulled me back into him, his arm around my waist; a small anchor as I felt another sob rising. I could not let myself in front of Rupee, though. She was the one who deserved to cry.

  “I’m so sorry.” I managed raggedly.

  She raised her hand. “I do not want your apologies. I do not agree with Hamish. I know you two will do what is right. But we have little to offer you now. Your weapon should be finished in the morning.” She turned to leave.

  I slid to the mossy floor, feeling unable to contain the outburst any longer. It wracked my body as Royce lowered himself next to me, holding me as I sobbed.

  Rupee had not explicitly told us to leave, but the implications were plenty clear enough. She may not blame us for what has happened, but we are complicit in their happenings. We could have prevented them if we had been… better.

  My favorite word.

  Maybe they made a mistake believing in us. Believing in me.

  I am no better than them. I am no better than the last man who tried, whose blade dully reflects the campfire light next to me.

  I don’t know how long Royce held me. Long enough for me to empty all the feelings in my chest onto his shoulder. Long enough for me to grow hollow and cold against him.

  This will be our last night with the gnomes.

  The first people to have shown us kindness since our arrival.

  I wish I could get the look of Hamish’s disgust off of my mind, but I fear that it may be seared into my mind permanently. It glowers at me as I try to fall asleep.