“Fairies!” Wyrn announced. He continued to bang the warning drum until everyone gathered. His family wasn’t the only ones living on that hill, but they made up the majority.

Two axes hung on Wyrn’s belt beside his dagger which he brandished, catching the sunlight.

Bonn was already suited up in leather and had the last of his breastplate fastened when he arrived.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. An infestation!” Wyrn wailed. He looked around at the staring eyes before jumping down from the drum platform. “I’ve got the candle ready. Look.” He plucked it from the stage to reveal the flame. Once he blew it out, it came back again. “Fairies. Make no mistake. We’ll gather the fire and iron and go replace the rock. Maybe an animal disturbed it. Whatever we cannot catch or drive back, kill.”

“What? Brother—” Bonn lowered his outstretched arm when Wyrn turned to face him. “Maybe it’s passing through. It might be gone by nightfall. Can we risk killing a Fae? Shouldn’t we seek out their leaders first?”

Wyrn, already heading toward the forest, paused and looked back at him. “They broke the pact. If you find one, even one of those little vermin, you kill it. I’ll handle the consequences. The Living Goddess be damned, I will not allow those things in here.”

Father was the last to arrive. His eyes shot open at the curse, but he gave no other opposition. In fact, he told the small crowd of men, “Wyrn’s got a wife to protect now. You know what these critters are capable of, especially to a new bride. Usually, I’d say let it be peaceful, but he has proper grounds. Follow his lead. Do not oppose him.”

Stunned, Wyrn forgot his gusto and aggression completely. He was even at the helm, ready for a battle cry.

Mother hurried out with Father’s leather breastplate. Even she gave no ‘reasonable’ opposition.

Their cooperation alone put him at a loss.

“What do we do?” Father asked.

Touched, Wyrn calmed enough to remember who they were and what their creed entailed. They were entitled to kill any Fae mucking around unrequested, but that could lead to all sorts of trouble.

His family’s confidence in him skewed his emotions. Finally, he concluded, “Arm yourselves. Instruct the women to stay inside and bolt all doors. We will force the doorkeeper to summon the fairy back.”

Bonn gasped. “And if he doesn’t cooperate?”

Wyrn didn’t appreciate the stupid question, so he turned, drunk on respect and power. “Then we’ll need a new doorkeeper.”

“That’s the spirit!” Father cheered. “A war it is.” His laughter roared as he allowed his wife to fix his protective covering. “Last time we had one, you were as big as a house and we nearly lost Wyrn. Seems only right he gets his revenge!”

Once he had his swords, he turned to give Wyrn a full, eager smile.

It was in that moment that Wyrn came to his senses. A war? The man said it in jest, but he was not wrong. Perhaps his laughter was a softer way to give a reminder. This was no joke. Wounding a fairy was one thing, they’d seek retribution in kind, but to kill one? To kill a Fae? When it was just as easy to let it go or get it summoned home?

He was being unreasonable—unreasonable, dangerous and pigheaded. And yet, as he looked at the massive crowd, he saw their sincerity. They were ready to follow him. But why? Had they always trusted him this closely?

Mother’s brow creased with worry, but she didn’t protest.

She didn’t want a fight though, and it was no lie that she nearly lost her life in the last battle.

“Wait,” Wyrn said. He expected them to perhaps back down or change their minds about following him, but every face seemed eager.

“I’ve put up some traps. Let’s just lay in wait and wait for the screams.” A fairy was a loud victim when pierced with iron. They could pinpoint it easily that way.

“Good idea,” Father agreed. “Better than leaving the women unprotected. Get them in and establish a perimeter!”

An unbridled rage fueled their charge and they lit torches despite the light of day, and metal and silver for any battle Fae crawling from the underworld.

Wyrn could practically taste the blood he was about to let loose.

So, three hours later, he was unsure how he ended up standing meekly with his brothers as Father held up yet another empty trap. Wyrn didn’t dare move, but his eyes gravitated to Bonn who looked equally uncomfortable.

Now at the bottom of their hill, Wyrn reluctantly blew out the candle. It didn’t come back. The fairy was gone. Father held out his hand for it.

Feeling about two inches tall, Wyrn took off his helmet and twirled it in his hands.

Deep in the forest, beyond a stone archway, a huge boulder rested undisturbed no doubt. Despite its size, it wasn’t hard for one of them to move it. It was, however, quite difficult for the fairies themselves. Back here in the village at the bottom of the hill, nothing was amiss.

“Well,” Wyrn said, clearing his throat, “I suppose I jumped to conclusions.” He turned to his father, pensive. “Sorry.”

The man patted Wyrn’s shoulder, alight with pride. “Look at you! Never have I seen you this determined. Your woman’s done wonders for you. Don’t worry.” The hearty slap on the back had Wyrn stumbling forward. “And you can admit when you’re wrong. Who can fault you that?”

Wyrn stared up at him, in awe. “R—really?”

The final strike on the back had him tumbling and everyone laughed, even him.

“Right,” Wyrn said, returning his helmet to his head, “let’s go back up then.”

“If it’s all the same,” Father said through gritted teeth. “could we at least wait till supper time so we can look like we did a lot of work?”

He received a chorus of agreement from the small crowd.

Even Bonn nodded. “No complaints here.”

Two men offered to pick mushrooms, a few went to hunt rabbits.

With this, they could return to the main houses as heroes rather than failures.

And then it occurred to Wyrn. “But I told everybody to stay inside. Will they even cook?”

Father patted his shoulder. “You’ll learn soon enough that wives hardly ever listen. After about an hour, they must have lost some faith.”

“Oh.” Wyrn nodded. “All right.” His thoughts fell on the princess. “Wait, I didn’t explain it to her.”

Father assured him, “Shaza was heading toward her when we left. To be sure, she’s fine.”

“Shaza?” Bonn’s nerves made his voice shake. “She was the one helping?” He backed away, ready to run back home.

“Oi,” Father bellowed. “What is your intent?”

Bonn froze and said nothing. He opened and closed his mouth for ages but finally gave up. That action made Wyrn curious.

Wyrn had misgivings of his own but with this fiasco of a Fae hunt, he didn’t dare make another mistake.

“Just want to head home,” Bonn said. But while he spoke to their father, his eyes settled on Wyrn. “You know. It’s just a feeling. Maybe Shaza’s not the best guide. Just…a bit of jealousy in play.”

Wyrn didn’t understand what he meant. Father wrinkled his brow as well and looked between his sons.

His eyes settled on Bonn and all cheer faded. “Jealous of what? On what grounds?”

Bonn swallowed hard. “I’ve given her none. Of course.”

“Of course.” Father turned to poke Bonn in the chest. “But know I will not forgive another interference.”

A thought popped into Wyrn’s head. “The pigsty fairy trap.” He shoved them aside and took off toward home.

“What? There’s yet another trap? Should we come with you?” Father called.

But Wyrn didn’t answer. He could travel faster on his own. His family had height, but not speed. His father’s hearty laugh of admiration fueled his steps.

He wanted that praise to continue. And if he kept making such foolish mistakes, they surely wouldn’t. Knowing his luck, he’d catch anything but a fairy in that trap. His lungs burned by the time he reached the pigsty.

In his run, he nearly tripped into the trap himself when he came to a halt. Blood.

There was enough of it that he swallowed hard. He’d caught something. But a scan of the area showed no injured animal or even a bloodied fairy impaled through either the foot or heart, cursing him with his dying breath.

Nothing and no one.

The trail of blood stopped beyond the pigsty. Fairies weren’t all that big, so neither was the needles of the trap. Perhaps a small vermin ran into it and took off.

With that, Wyrn pulled his helmet off his head and marched home. The smell of supper put him at ease. His father’d been right.

Upon entering the kitchen to his mother’s sour disposition, Wyrn slowed in his stride.

The woman was angry. It couldn’t have been at him; he hadn’t been here since lunch.

After a quiet pivot he tried to sneak out and that’s when he saw the tray.

The food atop it confused him. “Is this for Vadde?”

Mother let out a wail, clutching her chest. “Where have you come from?”

Rather than answer, he waited.

A scowl firmly in place, his mother turned back to her task. “That girl. That awful girl. I went through so much trouble to get her a proper meal and she refused it. She only took the bitters. But I won’t be going out to fetch more. It takes ages to make, too! I don’t know where you found her, but I’m about finished with the pampering. I have a house to run!”

She would have complained more but Wyrn picked up the tray and hurried out. He promised to return with it eaten.

From where did this confidence come? He had no idea how to get the princess to listen to anything he said.

He lifted his fist against her door to bang, but a small knock was all it amounted to.

Shaza met him with a smile. It fell at the sight of the tray. “She’s already refused that.”

Disappointed, Wyrn considered the most polite course of action. There was something about Shaza that never sat well with Wyrn. Her face was pleasant, and she never did anything contrary, and yet, Bonn merely tolerated her. For a long while, Wyrn believed it was because Bonn still pined for his first wife, who he had loved without fail. Perhaps he settled on Shaza for company’s sake, but there were days when she’d chase after him so thoroughly that Wyrn wondered who was actually seeking who.

Therefore, he had no reason to argue her words. But that wasn’t the issue now. The princess was becoming an inconvenience. One he needed to contend with.

“Move aside,” Wyrn said, though the gravel in his voice barely amounted to much.

Standing defiant, Shaza remained a good friend and respected the princess’s wishes saying, “She’s refused it and you cannot barge into a woman’s private area.”

Though she was taller, it wasn’t by much. Wyrn leaned in to meet her. “Move. Your. Arse.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and he took the opportunity to slip by. Before she could turn and protest, he slammed the door in her face.

Everything in her personality said she wouldn’t stand for his intrusion or rudeness, but the woman didn’t barge in or otherwise curse him.

That left Wyrn with little recourse. He was already in a temper from that confrontation, and perhaps that was why he found the boldness to put the tray down on the little table, look at the woman hidden in bed, and demanded, “Eat.”

Hands gripping the sheet under which she hid, the princess stared at him blankly.

Neither of them moved. With each second, Wyrn’s confidence waned. By the time he turned to face the door again, he did so with a sigh. This was all too much trouble.

He walked out to find no one there. What had he expected?

Not much, but certainly not Shaza and Mother heading his way in a temper.

“She refused it, ma’am. She refused it,” Shaza hurried along saying. “And he just barges in. She could have been naked.”

Mother looked older when she finally came to a stop. “That’s not the way, Wyrn. You do not have to force her if she won’t eat. Come.”

Shaza all but shivered in her fury.

Wyrn looked between the two of them and realized something strange. Since when had Shaza and his mother, a woman who vowed to never forgive Shaza for choosing Bonn, found themselves in such good cooperation with one another?

Mother tried to step past, but Wyrn asked her, “Don’t you trust me?”

Those words had the woman backing down from the fight.

Shaza looked between them, appalled. “Ma’am? Are you just going to let him abuse her like this?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Mother blinked and turned to her. “You shut up. What do you mean abuse?”

A small sound left Shaza who struggled for a response. Now with her on the defensive, Wyrn opened the door and slipped back in. His mother’s curses carried even in here.

Wyrn tried to make sense of the day. When he caught sight of the shoes by the door, his eyes lingered there.

He finally took his time in studying the hut. His eyes settled on the table. The food was still uneaten.

Two brown eyes watched him, so he returned the glare. What were they to do with one another? Since their meeting, he hadn’t showed her much gentleness despite trying. And she hadn’t shown much appreciation either.

He wanted to say something to her to change the nature of their relationship but there was little he could do.

Therefore, he formed a conclusion—if she thought of him as a brute, then a brute was what he’d have to be.

He pulled the chair close to her bed, sat and ordered, “Show me your feet.”

But instead of extending her legs, she crouched up. He was afraid of that. It was all the confirmation he needed.

He met her frightened gaze and told her, “You risk infection from those spikes. I need to retrieve it. Do you want to lose that foot?”

Nothing.

What else could he say? He dug deep and the words, “I won’t tell anyone,” tumbled out of his mouth.

Though she still didn’t offer her feet, when he touched the bed, she didn’t protest.

He took a chance and reached under. The right foot was fine but the left one had a poorly wrapped bandage.

Wyrn sighed and pulled the injured foot to him. The spike went all the way through, despite her shoe. She must have stepped right on it.

He picked her leg up to get a better look.

“This is going to hurt,” he said.

The first attempt had her stifling a cry. When he met eyes with her, he did so for fear someone would misunderstand their situation and barge in to save her.

He held her gaze at the next attempt and found something terrible there—she’d been willing to hide this forever rather than let someone know she’d been stealing the pig’s food. He puzzled over that for some time but decided that the why didn’t matter.

Instead, he stood and assured her, “I must get tools.”

“No.” It was the first thing she’d ever said to him. When she remembered herself and lay back, he felt even worse.

How would he explain needing to get those tools?

“All right.” He scanned the room but could find nothing but a basin and a jug. The water was fresh, so he poured it in. “Come.”

The bleeding had stopped but he didn’t have time to be gentle when he washed her feet.

Once he was finished and dabbed it with a cloth, he held her foot up yet again and sighed.

“What will you do?” she asked.

What would he do? Something strange.

He let out a sigh and brought her foot to his mouth.

That shriek took her longer to cover her lips for. He paused to look at her. When she gripped the sheet once again, he leaned in and made several attempts to catch the thin spike with his teeth. Once he got it, he pulled. It was a slow process and she writhed in pain. His heart broke for her, and himself. What was he doing?

He had to be slow about it but sighed with relief when he finally spat the needle out.

The tears in her eyes worried him but she forced a smile through it. He gathered up her poor bandage and wrapped it around her again. The cloth confused him until he paused to study it.

As slowly as he dared, he pushed the sheets back to find the bottom part of her dress torn.

“Oh no.” Their eyes met again. “Mother spent a lot of time on these dresses.” At the frown, he rubbed her bandaged foot with both hands and said, “But I’m sure she’ll forgive it if you eat every bit of that food.”