Chapter Text
THERE HAD BEEN RUMORS.
There had been rumors of the Crow Kingdom. Of a dark king, and an equally callous princess. Such terrible tales spread quickly and easily in the Swan Kingdom, for the two had a long standing feud.
Soon it would end, however. It would end, when the Swan Prince and the Crow Princess were wedded.
Ahiru hadn’t had the time to soak it all in before, but now she marveled at the castle before her. It stood twice as tall as her tower, and the campus most likely stretched further than the bounds of her home’s surrounding meadow. It was made up of whites and golds, marking itself as a beacon of light within the landscape. Marble floors, ivory pillars. Tapestries were a common motif as well, lining the hallway walls, carrying many depictions of native florals and birds. Most importantly in these tapestries, of course, was the swan.
She wondered if the prince it contained was just like it; just like the fairy tales she had read and reread in her tower.
“What’s the prince like?”
There was a brief silence, and Ahiru had already learned to brace herself for his waspish comments.
“You keep asking such questions,” Fakir’s lips twitched with slight irritation, “you’re about to find out what he’s like in a minute.”
Ahiru frowned and looked away with equal irritation, “sorry for trying to make conversation.”
The knight sighed, “The prince is a reflection of his kingdom. Kind, just, and fair.”
“...that’s how you describe a friend?” the girl raised a disconcerted brow at him.
“Is my description not suitable?” He sneered.
Ahiru huffed in disbelief, crossing her arms. “Just a bit formal.”
Fakir glanced down at her without the effort of a turn, and inhaled. “Mytho’s very selfless. He is a man so sacrificing—and so absent minded—that he would jump out of a window to save a baby bird.”
The girl’s eyes widened in a bit of awe. Perhaps the fairy tales were true. Although, she wasn’t so sure Fakir lived up to her expectation of ‘a knight in shining armor’.
“How long has he…been sick?”
The man didn’t resort to scowling at her question; this time, instead, he frowned. “Mytho has never been in the greatest of shape, even when we were children. But, it was last year when he turned 18, that he became completely bedridden.”
Ahiru’s footsteps slowed as the girl tried her best not to completely stop in her tracks. She had recognized, now, that this was a serious matter, and not just her ticket to gallivant around the outside. She looked down at the marbled floor, eyes landing on the determined strides Fakir took.
He was a good friend, she thought. A friend who cared enough to travel the depths of the woods, alone, just for a small possibility of helping. This was very important for Fakir, and she was just now beginning to sense that. Maybe that’s why he had been so uptight and naggy on the road.
Perhaps she should rescind her previous thought.
Perhaps, he was a knight in shining armor. Just not the friendliest one.
Although, as she would always remember in the back of her mind, all knights had swords.
Swords, she knew, that did not possess a use other than harm.
The room grew dreadfully quiet as Mytho anxiously awaited for the arrival of his appointed knight, knowing that it would only be minutes from now. He nibbled on the snacks that the maids were so kind to provide an abundance of, and wondered. In truth, despite his earlier worry-filled doubts, he was quite curious about the tower myth. Fakir had the habit of telling grand tales of mystical occurrences and magical beings when he was younger, and although that spark had faded with the appearance of knightly duties, Mytho hoped this venture had reinvigorated it.
He did not much more than twiddle his thumbs that evening.
Then, the knob of his door began to rattle.
Mytho slowly stood to greet his friend at the door. “Fakir, your cloak is all tattered up! And it was new, too!”
The knight ignored the prince’s small reproach, however, as he hastily moved to set the prince back down to bed.
“Don’t spend yourself by standing, Mytho.”
A small pout overtook the prince’s features, but left as quickly as it came, and was replaced with light curiosity. “How was your trip? Did you…really find the tower?”
Fakir put his mind to pause. How should he answer this? Obviously, he had found the tower, but was it really something that should be known? It wasn’t as if such things of mystical power didn’t exist, far from it. Most of the known legendary artifacts were in possession of the royal family, however. If people were to find out about the existence of the clocktower, it wouldn’t be long before it was torn apart and scraped for valuables; and it was something Fakir wanted to investigate a while longer, by himself. He stared into his friend with deep consideration.
Hand firmly placed upon Mytho’s shoulder, Fakir knelt down to be eye-level with the prince. “I found what I was looking for,” he answered softly.
Mytho’s head simply tilted, asking for elaboration.
“I found something—someone, who can heal you.”
The prince’s brows furrowed a bit, recalling that the knight had given up on finding any more nurses, “…and you’re sure of this?”
“I’m sure,” Fakir stood from his crouched position, “you can meet your new caretaker now, in fact.”
The knight simply opened the door and beckoned someone to come with a wave. Soon enough, he stepped out of the way to let them into the suite.
It was then, when she fluttered into the room.
She was like a honeyed peach; her sweetness emanated from all her being. A long, red braid reached to her waist, and complimented her rosy complexion. The girl wore a long multi-layer tulle skirt and a silk shirt hugged together by a leather corset. It was a somewhat strange look, too nice for a commoner and not nice enough for nobility, but it fit her nonetheless.
“This is Miss Ahiru…” Fakir paused, realizing he hadn’t collected the girl’s full name. A fool he was.
“Ente*” She made up on the spot, realizing herself that she carried no surname, and thought the name she chose was fitting.
Mytho stared vacantly for a moment. “I am Prince Mytho Siegfried,” he offered a smile.
Ahiru bowed, “I’ve heard. I will be your new nurse.”
Strangely enough, just her presence was enough to cause a surge of energy within the prince. As she grinned brightly at him, he felt the chills of death crawl back into the shadows from whence they came, and the constant cough-threatening tickle in his throat began to dissipate with the air which he found easier to breathe.
The prince took the girl’s hand as she drew near him. “You and Fakir should join me for dinner in my chambers. I’ve needed some good company for the past few days.”
“Really!?” Ahiru’s grin doubled in size, “that sounds great! I’ll make sure to prepare some of your treatments by then, your majesty.”
Mytho chuckled, “you have no objections, right Fakir?”
The knight exhaled with no enthusiasm, “no, i don’t.” The two seemed all too giddy to him, personally. Although, with such similar surface-level personalities, he supposed he should have expected for them to hit it off quite quickly.
“Well, Miss Ente should get settled and ready now.” Fakir ushered the girl out of the room, feeling that their meeting had dragged out long enough.
Ahiru now found herself alone in the hall with Fakir again, who was already heading off with haste.
“Where are you going?” The girl ran to catch up to the knight.
“The library.”
“There’s a library?”
He turned to her with confoundment before realizing. “Right, you haven’t been shown around yet.” He resumed his gaze down the hall, “every castle has its own library.”
“Can I come too?” The girl bounced with a plea, wanting to check out their selection of books and if it differed from the ones in her tower. Besides, “I don’t really have anywhere else to go to right now…”
Fakir winced, wrong to have thought he had finally earned his alone time. But, she hadn’t properly been dealt with yet.
He nodded, “I’ll tell the housekeepers to prepare you a room while I show you the library.”
“Thank you!” Ahiru skipped down the hall as he made quick strides.
Was he mistaken, or was she suddenly more bubbly towards him?
The library was gigantic, where the shelf capacity far exceeded that of her tower. The lights were dim, relying mostly on candles since the windows were so small and few. It was very unlike the rest of the castle that she had seen thus far, trading the bright white and gold color scheme for deep velvet reds and silvers. The moody atmosphere quite reminded her of home, except it was much more cozy and warm than cold.
“You’re back.” A voice pierced through the ambient quiet, and a shrouded figure began to approach the pair.
A bespectacled man made his way to Fakir, eyeing him with a judgemental glare that could rival the knight’s own, except he was more snooty than intimidating. Then, his shielded eyes landed on the girl.
He turned back to Fakir with a low whisper, as if the redhead couldn’t hear. “Who is that?” He wasn’t used to seeing new faces appear out of nowhere, especially at the library no less.
Before Fakir could even begin to respond, the man quickly glanced back to the girl, catching a bright red glint in his periphery. He leaned in closer to the knight, “don’t tell me she’s…”
He simply nodded in return, and turned to Ahiru instead of watching as the man’s eyes widened before him.
“Ahiru, this is Baron Autor Kuhnmeyer, the court archiver. Autor, this is Miss Ahiru Ente, the new nurse.”
Autor looked at Fakir with confused contempt, signaling that they would have an extensive talk about this later. He was not a man for long introductions, and went straight to the point.”
He encroached on the girl, “you’re from the tower, aren't you?”
“H-how—“ Ahiru began to sputter.
Fakir placed a hand on Autor’s shoulder and pulled him back out of the girl’s personal space, “don’t mind him, he just knows a lot about these things. He was the one who helped me find the tower’s location.”
“Speaking of which, I need that compass back.”
The girl formed an ‘o’ with her lips, panic turned curiosity. “I was wondering about that. How did you find the tower?”
The knight groaned to himself, knowing that her question would open the floodgates to one of the archiver’s enthused, know-it-all rambles.
“Well, if you insist on the need for an explanation—“ Autor smirked, leading them to a wall decorated with old maps and artifacts. “Fakir used a device called the Kinkan compass,” the archiver beckoned the knight to hand him the relic, “while regular compasses detect the magnetic field and point towards north, this compass was designed to detect and point towards the location of Kinkan’s clocks.”
Ahiru observed the device, shaped similarly to the gears that decorated her home. Still, she was very confused. “Kinkan’s…clocks?”
Autor nodded, pointing to a map on the wall.
“Back before the capital of the Swan Kingdom was moved here, and here was re-established as Goldcrowne, this place was known as Kinkan town,” the man redirected his point to the drawn portrait of an old man, “It was named after the famous clockmaker, Kinkan. It was rumored that he possessed the power to control time itself…but, I won't get ahead of myself.”
A low snort sounded from the knight. As if he hadn’t already gotten ahead of himself, he thought.
“The only thing left of his namesake is Kinkan academy, the art school just outside of the castle,” Autor fixed his glasses, “as well as the many well-crafted clocks both within and outside of the town. I figured that this ‘clocktower’ would contain one of Kinkan’s, and thus it led Fakir there.”
The knight rolled his eyes, while the girl tried to digest the information as best she could. Quickly, however, Autor’s attention turned from his lecture to onto her.
“So, what is it like? Why do you reside there?” He berated with intensity.
“Calm down, Autor. You won’t get any answers if you attack her. Especially not from this scatterbrain.”
Ahiru angrily opened her mouth to retort, but thought it useless. Instead, she took the opportunity from the newfound silence to explain herself.
“The tower was just my…shelter. I had nowhere else to go, so I took shelter in the tower with my caretaker.”
Fakir picked up on the vagueness of the girl’s description, as it was strategically different from the more detailed explanation he was provided. Perhaps she was a little clever, to sense that Autor was not a man you should provide all your information to.
Autor was sharper than that, however. Anyone who witnessed such a bizarre set piece would have much to share. But, he figured he would just have to scrape the details from the knight instead. The archiver simply drew daggers at the girl’s shiny red pendant, an ordeal he would have to inquire about later.
The group split to focus on their own agendas. For Ahiru, she wanted to focus on finding a few herbology books. If she were to be a nurse, she would have to act the part as well. She genuinely intended to learn how to tend to people, if ever he needed it.
She sighed longingly. Now, she only wished for him to get better, and have a smile that isn’t pained or strained.
For Fakir, he had actually come to talk to Autor. Privately. The knight had pulled the archiver into one of the side rooms, only facing a bit of retaliation from his pretentious accomplice.
Even though it had been him to initiate their meeting, Autor took to speaking first as usual.
“Why does she have the crystal?”
The knight huffed, “it was around her neck when i arrived. And trust me, it's quite attached to her.” Fakir leaned on a dusty desk.
Autor crossed his arms, unimpressed. “So you’re just going to resign and let her prance around with that precious ornament?”
Fakir groaned, “Of course not. But she keeps clutching it, and there's no detachable clip for the necklace—and it isn’t even wide enough to slip out of her head! It’s very attached. I came to you for some ideas on how to retrieve it!”
The archiver thought for a bit, averting his gaze. “Well, for that…I have no clue.”
This was the first time the knight had ever heard such a statement from the know-it-all. Fakir slumped his shoulders, for he knew.
He knew that while the presence of the pendant would help heal, it was no cure. It was no cure, unless he siphoned that jewel from her.
“We can take your books up to your room, miss.”
Ahiru gave up her bundle to the dutifully attentive maids, passing them quick appreciations as she did. “Is the room ready?”
“I’m afraid it is not yet fully prepared. But, you can occupy yourself by visiting the medical lab. You’re Prince Siegfried’s new nurse, correct?”
The girl nodded, and she was led through the courtyard into what they called the ‘North Wing’. Before her was a large hall, as tall as it was wide, with double doors of varying sizes lined the walls. One door was labeled “Carpenter Workshop”, another was labeled, “Arts Studio”. Each door appeared to lead to something different. As they approached the end of the hall, a head poked out of a door labeled “Sewing Room”. It was a woman with short and curly dark brown hair, and large brown eyes.
“Why, it’s Madam Paulamoni!” One of the maids accompanying Ahiru called out to the woman. She then turned to the girl, “Miss Ente, this is Madam Paulamoni, the court seamstress.”
“Good evening,” The lady greeted in return, flashing a soft smile and reaching out a hand to the girl.
Ahiru accepted it, shaking the seamstress’ hands with perhaps too much enthusiasm. She noticed how calloused they were. “I’m the new nurse.”
“Oh!” Paulomoni’s eyes raised with newfound excitement, “that means you’re my neighbor.” She pointed to the door right next to her’s, which was appropriately labeled as “Medical Lab”. Ahiru’s mouth popped open in retaliation, and from there the sewer escorted her to the room, showing the girl around the general facilities.
The lab was very spacious, holding room for as many shelves and cabinets as it required. The southern wall of the room was completely glass, letting much natural light flood into the area, providing nutrients to the menagerie of herbs inside. All sorts of tubes and beakers filled the tables, all tools that Ahiru had not even the smallest idea of how to use.
However, she had to learn quickly, for dinner was soon and she had little time to prepare the prince a few treatments. She supposed she could wing-it a little for tonight; it wasn’t as if her pendant wouldn’t be doing all of the work.
Paulamoni left to resume her duties, and Ahiru subsequently began hers.
Fakir found difficulty in escaping the knight’s quarters that evening.
He predicted that there would be questions, sure, but he didn’t imagine this level of insistent probing. But then again, he knew the rest of the knights to be extremely nosy, and the unusualness of his venture didn’t help to keep their curiosities at bay. To travel that far outside of Golcrowne’s walls by his lonesome was strange, especially with his position as the castlebound commander.
Still, he managed to seclude himself within his office. He breathed with relief.
From his desk drawer, Fakir pulled out a thick, canvas-binded journal. Its cover was beaten through usage, and many stray paper corners stuck out from the base. With an ink pot and quill always ready, he began to write.
He wrote down all that he recalled of the tower. He outlined which parts of the myths were accurate, and which parts remained absent.
Fakir checked off the treasure that heals all ailments, the creepy marionettes, and the voided space that defied dimensional physics.
He determined that Ahiru was the ‘clocktower maiden’ mentioned in a few iterations of the legend.
As for what remained to be found, however, was the presence of an evil, old figure. Although the place carried an eerie and dark presence, he did not witness any semblance of a ‘wicked man’ that was stated in most tellings of the myth.
He groaned to himself as his recounts fell short, his quill still itching to pen more words.
So, he began to write about the girl.
He described her peculiarities, her idiosyncrasies. He wrote of her many questions and her absent mindedness. She was annoying, he noted, in more ways than one.
But, he supposed she couldn’t help her naivete, having been so sheltered. Perhaps, one could find her brave determination to be admirable. Maybe, one could find her stubbornness to be helpful asset.
Oh, but enough with any flatterful excuses. He noted, again, what an inconvenience she had been.
And, probably will continue to be, as he remembered his next engagement.
Fakir looked out the window, the evening sun just about disappearing behind the horizon. It was time for dinner.
He locked his journal away in his desk drawer, and placed the keys in his jacket pocket.
•••
When Fakir opened the door, he found Ahiru already by Mytho’s side, treating him with a soaked towel and some tea. There was a bright aura around the prince that he had not seen in a long time, grinning brightly at the girl before him.
The two were akin to magnets, it seemed.
Fakir cleared his throat, making his presence apparent.
The pair, once engaged in bright conversation, had quickly turned to greet the knight. Ahiru’s smile faded a bit, but Mytho’s only grew.
“You’re a bit late, Fakir!” The prince scolded playfully.
The knight huffed with forced beguilement, “I believe it is Miss Ente who is just early,” he eyed the girl with an unreadable expression.
Ahiru met his small glare with a smile, however. “I came earlier to treat the prince before dinner.”
“I see.” Fakir’s gaze wandered to her neckline, resting upon her pendant for a mere fleeting second, before landing on the soak she had brought. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
The girl was very tense, and she did not hide it well enough from the perceptive knight. Fakir could sense unease without effort.
Seriously, she was too naïve for this world. He held his pity, still.
“I had your favorite prepared, Fakir,” the prince enthused, but turned towards the girl again,” I hope you don’t mind onion soup, Ahiru.”
As the girl shook her head, the knight couldn’t help but dwell on what had just been said.
“Ahiru?” Fakir quirked a brow at his friend, “you’re quick to be informal.”
“And you’re quick to be too formal, Fakir,” the girl interrupted, “you were just fine calling me Ahiru before you learned my surname. I still don't even know yours.”
Fakir smirked with contempt, “and you do not need to, as knights are addressed by their first. It is Sir Fakir to you.”
Ahiru didn’t do well in containing her scoff as she folded her arms, leaned back in her chair. “Sorry, Sir Fakir.” The title seemed to regurgitate out of her like some hair ball.
Mytho grimaced between them, not enjoying the atmosphere that had manifested. He decided that a silence brought about by food would be far better than one brought about by tensions.
He called for the maids to serve their platters.
A small side table had been brought in so that Mytho could eat whilst sitting upon his bed. The prince spent his dinner with split attention across two different conversations. To his right, exchanges with Ahiru, and to his left, a discussion with Fakir. It seemed that the nurse and the knight decidedly refrained from engaging the other, and instead only chatted with the prince.
How unfortunate, he thought. Here he was
hoping they’d get along, and that the infamously irritable Fakir would finally have a new friend.
The prince, of course, put none of the blame on Ahiru. She was too kind and agreeable.
Fortunately, dinner had its end just as everything does. As Fakir made his hasty exit, however, Mytho grabbed Ahiru’s wrist and held her back.
“Please excuse him, Ahiru. He can be very uptight about adhering to certain things, but I assure you he is good at heart. He just takes a moment to warm up.”
The girl softly smiled at the prince, receptive to his majesty’s heartfelt attempt to shine light upon his dear friend. But, no matter how sweet and genuine, his words would still fall flat until she saw it herself.
Ahiru tossed her satchel, along with herself, onto her new bed. It was large, soft, and springy, far nicer than anything she owned back home. She could very well melt into the material, and had a hard time picturing how she would manage to get up when she woke.
The prince really was like that of her fairytales. He was perfectly pretty, like a statue carved by a master sculptor. But he was also equally as kind, charming, and warm. She sighed, not only in her awe, but also in sadness.
In truth, she felt a good amount of empathy for him. She, too, knew the heartache of being trapped in a room. Just like her, he was a caged bird. his bed was her tower.
Ahiru stood from the bed and clutched her pendant, her brows furrowed with fierceness. She was determined to help him. All she wanted now was to make him feel as free as she now felt.
Suddenly, her pendant began to glow brightly. The girl stepped back in surprise, as a light began to envelop the room.
It was when the light all gathered, however, when she would be sent back tumbling upon her bed in shock. Before her, a vision of Edel appeared in red light.
“E-Edel—“
“Ahiru,” Edel stomped with speech, “I am not mad that you have ran,”
“But—but Edel, oh—“ The girl stuttered, emotions too strong to be coherent.
“Listen to me!” The marionette’s voice demanded. “It is hard to reach you with this, and there is something I must tell you!”
Ahiru slapped a hand to her mouth and quelled her stutters, shaking her head in compliance.
Edel sighed. “I have found…there is, well, a way…,” the puppet bore into the floor, but quickly met the girl’s eyes back again with great intensity, “you can lift your curse, my girl.”
Ahiru’s jaw dropped, and her hand fell back to her pendant, fingertips resting on the jewel. She leaned in with eagerness.
“You must make the prince fall in love with you, Ahiru.” Edel commanded.
“What?” The girl’s eyes darted over the marionette’s rather limited expression. “What—what do you mean?”
“If the prince falls for you, my girl, your curse shall be broken,” the doll began to weaken, “your curse MUST be broken—“
“Edel!” The girl beckoned with confusion and desperation, but the light began to fade.
“You must, dear,” echoed in her ears as Edel’s form vanished from sight. Ahiru fell into her bed, exasperated.
Make the prince fall for her? What nonsense was that? Was she truly in a fairytale now?
Was the solution to the curse that plagued her all her life, really to be remedied by something like that? Of course she wanted to break her curse, but at what cost?
Her thoughts overwhelmed her too much.
The girl hugged herself and turned to the side, catching the sight of her satchel that she had thrown onto the bed. Her lip twitched as she reached out for her bag.
Quickly, she pulled out that old leather bound journal-turned-book, and opened it to a random page. Something about its entries always seemed to soothe her from overwhelm. She took comfort in reading the thoughts of another rather than suffering through her own.
How ironic, to prefer a stranger’s thoughts to her very own. A stranger she only knew through the nomenclature of ‘Lohengrin’, which was signed at the very front of the book.
She couldn’t stand to face him.
After Edel’s visit last night, Ahiru wasn’t ready to see the prince again. Instead, she found herself making a trip to the stables.
Fakir was surprised to find the redhead by his horse, brushing its mane, upon making his way inside.
“What are you doing here?”
She turned around to him, hands still weaving through his horse’s hair. “I told Charon that I would help take care of Inkhoof yesterday, remember?”
He remembered, he just didn’t really count on her to follow through. But, afterall, she proved herself to be pretty persistent. It had become apparent to him, then, that his precious steed was now standing, after many days glued to the floor. Fakir marveled at the power of the pendant.
“Right. Well, as long as you don’t forget your duty to the prince.”
“Of course not…” Ahiru aimed to change the subject, “I think he’s good to take his bandages off.”
Fakir nodded, and went to unwrap the gauze from his horse’s leg and torso. As expected from the red jewel, the wounds were amazingly all healed up, no scars in sight. He looked at the girl next to him as she was turned away, too focused on washing the colt’s coat. Was she really unaware of how suspicious her abilities were?
Maybe she didn’t know any better. She probably had been protected by the pendant’s magic all her life, not really knowing the pain of scrapes and tears. She wouldn’t know the way things scar.
He wondered, that if he took his sword and put her through it, if that damned jewel would even protect her from—
No…what was he thinking? To even think of something so horrendous…he was a monster for even wondering such a thing.
“Are you ok?” Ahiru brought him out of mind, “you look…scared.”
Fakir blinked himself back into place, “I’m just fine.”
The girl mustered a strained smile, “well, if you’re fine, how about taking Inkhoof out for a bit of a walk? See how well he’s doing?”
“Alright.” The knight pushed her aside to get the bridle hooked to the wall, dismissing her as her job was done.
But she wasn’t. As Fakir pulled over the bridle onto the colt, Ahiru shuffled her feet. “Can I come too?”
She had readied her eyes to the floor in order to avoid the scowl he was surely sending her.
“You’re eager to waste your time.”
She was. She was grasping at anything to distract her mind at the moment.
“I want to see the fields!”
“…really?” He was unconvinced.
She frowned, “I want to see how he’s doing too.”
Fakir rolled his eyes at her, “come if you want. It’s not my business what you do with your time.”
Ahiru groaned, and second-guessed herself if this is really how she wanted to spend her morning. But, she didn’t know the castle well enough to know what to do with herself yet, and she did genuinely want to see Inkhoof get out of the stable.
So, she joined the prickly knight, walking a few paces behind him and trying not to let his presence ruin the nice scenery on her walk.
The girl couldn’t wrap her head around his coldness. They both wanted the same thing; for the prince to be better. So why did he seem so dismissive of her, like an obstacle? She couldn’t understand him. Then, she recalled what Mytho had told her last night.
So what if it took him time to ‘warm up’? It wasn’t her fault that he was abrasive, and it certainly wasn’t her responsibility to wait for him to be a bit more friendly. Seriously, what was his deal?
“It was your birthday last night, right?”
She stopped in her tracks, and he too slowed his pace, but didn’t look back at her.
“Y-yeah…?” It was the last thing she expected for him to say. Hell, she didn’t expect him to say a thing.
He hummed to himself, and resumed his steps. “Mytho wanted me to apologize to you after being rude at dinner. I remembered you mentioning that yesterday was your birthday. So…pardon me if I ruined it.”
Was that his attempt at an apology? She supposed she couldn’t imagine him providing a better one. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
So, instead of answering him, she simply spoke. “It was my first birthday without Edel. It was kind of him to invite me to dinner, I feared I’d be alone.”
Fakir gazed at the rolling dirt. “Like I said, the prince is a reflection of his kingdom. Mytho has a pure heart, more so than anyone else I know.”
Ahiru observed the knight’s gentle grasp on his horse, guiding the colt nicely along the paved path. This, she thought, was the same guy who helped a baby duckling find her mother back in the forest, and not the stone faced, sword-wielding grump he usually seemed to be. She found herself questioning which side of him was the real one.
“So, do I still really have to call you Sir Fakir? You could have told me to call you that from the start you know, if being informal really bothers you that much.” She grimaced.
He recoiled at the sentiment. Truthfully, he was just being a bit petty at the moment. Fakir did not really care much for titles and bravado. Although he was proud of his position and rank, it wasn’t something he sought to boast about.
“It’s important to be proper and formal when necessary” he shook his head, “but no, you don’t need to call me that.”
Ahiru smiled to herself, “I thought so. I forgive you.”
His eyes widened just a bit, and he was grateful that she couldn’t see the small expression on his face. It hardened quickly, however, as his expressions always did.
“I wouldn’t have apologized if it wasn’t for Mytho. If it wasn’t for his state, he probably would have made me do much more,” he reminded her.
“Much more?”
Fakir inhaled. “Before he was…bedridden…he would make sure to do every good deed with as much effort as possible. He would have probably made me do a whole song and dance,” the knight sighed, “but now…he doesn’t have the ability to do so.”
Oh, how could she have been so selfish and foolish?! She should be by Mytho’s side, regardless of her internal conflict!
Ahiru bounced on her heels, “I have to go!”
Her sudden burst caused Fakir to turn, but she was already off and running.
“I’m wasting my time!”
She was far enough now that Fakir allowed himself to chuckle a bit. “Now she realizes?”
Ahiru had taken to the west wing with a few medicines of no effect, and faced the prince. For now, she would prioritize his health before her curse.
She made it routine to visit him every afternoon and every evening, slowly nursing him with her pendant. She kept him company when others were busy, and found him to be a good provider of conversation.
But, she also found herself visiting the stables in the mornings. She came to check on Inkhoof, but then…
Then, she began to talk more to the knight that stood by the horse as well.
It would only be a few days before the entire castle would be up in arms with preparations. The court gardener would have many bouquets to prepare, and the seamstress bundles of lavish cloth. The maids would be up and down the wings as well, running to and from each arrangement and chore with much work and little time.
It would only be a few days before the arrival of Princess Kraehe Rue of the Crow Kingdom, Prince Mytho’s betrothed.
“The prince has a betrothed!?”
Fakir, having recently grown used to the girl’s silly questions, spared her from receiving a weird look. “Yes, a prince this age is typically engaged.”
Ahiru’s heart had dropped. The news created a pit in her stomach. She had spent these days with the prince and now—
Had she fallen for him?
She supposed she was too late; for at the castle’s entrance, a carriage arrived.
Who was this princess, stepping up the stairs?