He awoke to Thea pressing a lump of something soft into his hand, the sun well past risen and peeking through the leaves of the forest in countless little rays. “Eat this and let’s get going.” Her voice was stern and unwavering, she spoke with a gravity that Eyan had yet to hear from her. He didn’t say anything just yet, as he took a moment to absorb what had happened the night before. The princess’ golden hair was knotted and dirty. Her face was pale and eyes were sunk deep into their sockets.

“What are you staring at? Eat it and let’s go.” she said curtly. Eyan looked into his hand: Thea had given him a semi-solid mush of berries, mushrooms, and plants that resembled a poorly digested meal. When he tasted it, though it was no roast duck, it didn’t taste nearly as awful as it looked and he could feel energy returning to his body once again.

“When did you wake up? How long has it been?” he inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe an hour. You know how to get to Benold right? You said as much last night.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Eyan stood up, careful not to agitate his back. He took an inventory of what he had managed to, by some miracle, keep in his possession after escaping the witch hunters. In total he had a broken shield, a broken breastplate, a sword, a dagger, the clothes he wore, and his leather supply pack, mostly empty. “We had, what, two more days on the caravan? If we’re fast and my memory serves me, walking should only take another one. But hold on a moment, you look unwell. Are you sure-”

“I am well, thank you. Let’s just go.” Thea shot him a severe look and he decided to drop it. She was clearly not to be disputed here.

“Very well then, let’s be on our- agh!” Eyan took one step and nearly toppled over, saved only by the grace of a low branch. His left leg was struck with a pulsing, sharp pain. Thea ran over and removed the greave on his leg and pulled up the leg of his pant. The flesh was red and swollen.

“Hold on a minute.” Thea said, rushing off. When she returned, she was holding a sturdy branch, about five feet long. “Use this to help you walk and I’ll work on a salve in the meantime, but you’re going to have your physician look at that when we get to Benold.” Thea worked quickly, mixing together herbs she had been collecting throughout the journey, doing her best without a mortar and pestle. As she worked, she silently gave thanks to her grandmother, who had ingrained in her the habit of collecting herbs as she traveled. Similar to her treatment of the back wound, she applied the poultice to Eyan’s leg and wrapped it with some cloth she ripped from the sleeve of her dress. Eyan watched her silently do her work, admiring the focus she exhibited in the aftermath of that close call.

While Thea made the poultice, Eyan situated their position and determined that they would need to follow the road northeast for two days, but could cut across some farmland he knew to turn the third day of travel into less than half a day. Even with his new injury, Eyan had little trouble keeping pace with an increasingly agitated Thea, who wanted to get behind castle walls as soon as possible. As they traveled, they kept an eye out for anyone else on the road. At the sound of clopping hooves they always dove into a ditch or thicket until they passed. As they got closer to Benold, the terrain shifted from the rolling plains of wheat and orchards that fed the continent to more of a marsh, rich with mushrooms and moss. When they had to step off the road, peat soil squashed beneath their feet.

On the second evening of travel, the knight and the princess set up camp for a final time. A chorus of frogs and bugs surrounded them as they laid down to rest. The color had fully returned to Thea’s face and her mood had livened significantly since the witch hunters, but there was no mistaking that she was still shaken from the encounter. In the evenings when she collected ingredients, especially in the marsh where they were so plentiful, she could throw herself into a task. Having something to accomplish gave her a sense of purpose, didn’t let her mind linger on the events that transpired. She also felt guilty about what she did, about putting herself and her friend in jeopardy, using magic so openly. Healing Eyan’s leg was a small thing she could do to apologize.

The moments of quiet and of idleness were when her mood began to sour again. She thought over what that witch hunter had said about the coven. She felt for her grandmother’s loss, mourned her mother, and thought about the fifty people – the children – laid to waste in unimaginable brutality. She thought also about what she did to the witch hunters. She had never commanded power like that before, and it felt exhilarating. No doubt, between her initial attack and then shapeshifting into such a powerful beast, she was tapping into power far beyond her capabilities. But it didn’t have to be beyond her. Thea set some drakeroot to burn slowly to keep away snakes and insects while she and Eyan slept. She put her head on her cloak for a pillow and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Eyan, for once, could not find it in himself to fall asleep. He was so close now. He hadn’t thought of a better plan to deal with his father yet, but he felt confident that he’d come up with something. For the first time ever, he believed he could stand up to the Lord of Benold. He wondered what Frederick was up to since they were separated. Even before he had set out on this quest, their contact was infrequent. Sending messages in and out of the castle through Yannen had meant they couldn’t say everything they wanted to. Eyan knew Yannen from childhood and trusted him to be discreet, but some things were meant only for one person’s ears. It was almost a year now since he had seen Frederick’s face. Last time, it was bloody and bruised, the young man he loved was almost unrecognizable beneath the lumps of purple, swollen flesh and dried, caked-on blood. Eyan was surprised at himself. It shouldn’t have taken the tenacious will of Princess Thea to convince him that his father needed pay, not after that...and yet.

He looked over at his friend, now deep in sleep. Travel had worn on her since she first appeared to him in the tower, shapeshifting out of her form as a goldfinch. Her hair was undone from their braids, instead now tossed into a loose tie. Her face seemed hardened and serious, where just a week ago it was fresh and cunning. Her dress was stained and ripped, her cloak muddied. Through it all, though, she maintained poise and drive. Thea was a resilient woman, and would prove a force to be reckoned with once she was thrown back into court life. That must be what it was, what Eyan was missing. He never lacked for passion, for Frederick or anyone or anything else, but he was always too easy to fold to his father’s demands. In her own remarkable strength, Princess Thea gave him the confidence he always lacked, ironically the very same confidence that would have given him the courage to deny his father’s request to venture up the mountain to face the dragon in the first place.

Thea said her grandmother believed in a greater will, in fate. Looking at how everything worked out, at the luck of it all, Eyan found it hard to explain otherwise. The question again popped to his mind: was he actually different from the seven knights who came to slay the dragon before him? Was he really on the verge of death, or was it fate looking out for him that allowed him to survive? He let it stew in his thoughts, thinking of all he had experienced. The princess had convinced him that fate was in the hands of mortals, even as luck may conspire to lay traps. Eyan was born a lord, Thea a half-noble, Frederick a stable boy. There is no denying the power that comes with circumstance, but while fate may choose the direction of life’s travel, we can choose the particular path. Eyan did slay a dragon, and he would stand up to his father.