Page 13 of The Pastel Prince

“See! That is my point. So, you need a warrior. Also, as we travel, I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know to get your beanpole picked.”

I ignored the beanpole comment, hoping Beirach had not heard it.

He had for his eyes were locked on me. So much so that I paused mid-stride to dash at my face. “Have I missed some foulness on my cheek?”

Tezen snickered naughtily.

“I…no, your face is perfect,” Beirach said, his pot burbling loudly. “I’ve not seen you with your hair free before.”

I reached up to run my fingers through the wet mass. “Oh. Yes, it needed to be washed. I will braid and bundle it before we eat.”

“Do not feel that you must on my account, for it looks beautiful framing your face as it does.”

“For the love of my dear pappy’s pooter,” Tezen huffed as Beirach stared and I fiddled with my hair. “Druids in love. There is nothing more sappy.” She howled out loud as she flitted about my head. “Druids. Sappy. Did you catch my witticism? Sap comes from trees and druids love trees.”

Beirach snapped to it first as I was still twirling my hair about my finger while blushing like a rose.

“Yes, quite funny, Lady Tezen. The oatmeal is ready. Sit, both of you, and we’ll break our fast before we leave.”

I sat across the fire with my hair down. Not because Beirach spoke so prettily about it, but because it was wet still. And surely not because I was in love. That was utter foolishness. I’d not known the man for long enough to claim to love him. Love took time to grow, just like a mighty oak from a small acorn.

The pixie, who thought she was a court jester, landed on my shoulder. Beirach dribbled some oats into her cup with a teaspoon, then filled a bowl, whittled from yellow oak, for me. I took it with a whispered thanks that made his nostrils flare.

“This is quite tasty. It’s wise to eat well before riding off. Adventuring requires energy for battling what evil will undoubtedly cross your path,” Tezen announced between slurps of runny oats sweetened with honey and ground cinnamon.

“I’m not sure that you traveling with us is wise. We have no clue as to what we’ll be facing. You could die.”

“Sometimes, facing death is better than living a life of meek servitude.” Her nose crinkled. I sensed her pain in the depths of my soul and instantly felt dreadful for being so snide. “No, do not do it.” She bristled like a cockatrice when I opened mymouth. I clacked my jaw shut, swallowing my apology. “Forget I said that. Finish your meal. We have sick people to visit.”

It seemed we were going whether I wished for a crude warrior pixie protector or not.

FOUR DAYS OF TRAVEL FOUND US DEEPin the Verboten woodlands. We’d run into nothing that required the skills of a semi-rabid pixie with the mouth of a randy sailor just put into port at Calaer.

Try as I might, distancing myself from Tezen failed to work. She was just too persistent, an admirable quality, even if annoying. I feared for her health should we find homes filled with sick and dying elves and told her so repeatedly, yet she remained at my side. If the truth be told, her company, ribald as it was, helped keep my flagging spirits up nearly as much as gazing at Beirach did.

Nin had returned two days back with a missive from Umeris. The scout had died. His organs had petrified. He had ordered the corpse incinerated and the healers that had attended him quarantined. There were no signs of the stone sickness amongst the healers. Yet.

Umeris bid me to stop tarrying. As if the many miles we had covered already were not substantial. I wouldnotride the mare into the ground. She was a sweet, gentle steed with a love of bitter apples from the wild trees that dotted the now thick forest. I could feel her confusion over being so far from her stable and her owner. Laying hands on her helped ease her mental distress, but it never left the horse, nor me.

We had lost the thin lane we had been following late yesterday. The woods were dense with trees and underbrush, fallen logs, and small runoffs of spring water, so even if I wished to ride Atriel more harshly, it was nigh impossible. It was obvious to me that Umeris Stillcloud had never seen the Verboten forest. But why would he have? The woods fell under no noble family jurisdiction as they had been gifted to us by royal decree by the king. A bandage on an amputation that served to only cover the stump from the eyes of the royal court. A kindness, a gift, a small token from the royal family to show they cared for their brethren who had left the flock to avoid the enlightenment.

“You seem far away,” Tezen noted as we rode through a standing copse of pale beech, the bark tan with dark stripes, the leaves darkest green and large as a thicket bear’s paw. The sun was above us, the forest shady and cool. Beirach rode a front, his mood as unpredictable as mine. It seemed for the setting sun we shared our cravings and admiration for each other grew, which then led us both into bouts of unhappy confusion. “Every time you grow silent, your expression grows sad, then mad, then fearful.”

“You’re astute,” I replied, my sight flicking to the pixie sitting in her favorite place, between the horse’s ears. “My mind darts like flutterwings over a pond.”

“Thinking that deeply about shit that makes you look that sad is a waste of time,” she announced just as we broke from the thicket into a small clearing. My eyes widened in recognition. I knew this place. “I learned a long time ago that keeping happy thoughts in your head is much better for your outlook. Like now, I’m thinking it wouldn’t be a bad thing to find a pub with a burly barmaid who—what are you doing?”

I slid off the horse, my boots landing in a soft muskeg that gave slightly under my weight. I smiled softly at Beirach whohad come to a halt and sat atop Methril, his blue eyes taking in the break in the forest. He appeared reluctant to join us. I chalked that up to him being set in his ways and averse to hijinks as most many middle-aged folk were.

With a trill of pure glee, I ran to the center of the clearing. I kicked up dark blue crickets, honeybees, and a female rust grouse. She exploded out of the tall grass with a cackle, her patina plumage as shiny as a copper in the hot sun.

“Hey, what is it?” Tezen appeared at my side, picks in hand, her sharp teeth bared.

“Thatis it,” I replied, running faster up a small incline to reach the Greenwood pond. Named by my brothers, cousins, and myself after our discovery of it on an expedition of sorts. Our trips into this side of the wilds were nearly always led by one of my elder brothers, this time it was Bellas, the oldest of our brood and the one who would oversee the clan and accept the mantle of wilder warden when Father stepped down. Those in the city would say that made each child of Dyffros and Jastra princes of the woods. We wore no crowns nor wished any and so those titles meant nothing to the people of the boscage. “That pond is where I learned to swim. It marks the perimeter of my mother’s homeland. The bosk of the singing spruce is only a short journey from here.”

“Huzzah! I could use a dip. My pits smell like a sloth weasel’s mangy bunghole.”

I laughed at her, the sound bouncing off the dark green evergreens that ringed the meadow. With a hoot, Tezen raced ahead of me, her breastplate tumbling to the dancing feather grass tops followed by her undershirt. I tried to catch the tiny bits of metal and cloth but tripped and ended up on my face with a pixie shirt on my pinkie finger and my chin resting on the cool mud bank of the pond. Beirach shouted at us, but what hesaid was lost to the joy of a familiar pond to frolic and play in after a long hot ride.

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