It was dark, but not the darkness of night. The heavens had been completely blotted out by the heavily pregnant clouds that loomed above. Their saggy bellies bulged and twisted, a rainstorm of epic proportions ragging just beyond sight. The air was thick with humidity and everything groaned beneath its crushing weight. The trees hung low, their branches aching and their leaves completely still in the windless, breathless void of a high summer storm. Lightning flashed and everything became either solid or its shadow, dark or light. It illuminated the clouds, purple and green angry swirls which growled as though they were alive. Less than a minute later thunder crashed its cymbals and bashed against the clouds that rippled and convulsed. It was only a matter of time before the torrent that was being held up by the lighter than air fabric of the sky threw itself at the rolling hills and hard dirt road below.

No one would be about in such weather.

No one would be so foolish.

And then, around a bend in the road, two figures ran into view. One was a man, the other was a woman and they ran like there was an army behind them. The man wore trousers tucked into his boots with the tops turned down. His silk white shirt was plastered against body with sweat and where the shirt was open at his neck, his chest glistened. The woman was finding it hard to keep up in her voluptuous pink gown and because she could see neither her feet nor the road in front of her, she tripped over every stone and broken branch in her way.

“Wait,” she gasped, “Frederik wait!”

“We cannot! They are right behind us!” Frederik grasped her hand. “The crossroads are ahead. We must reach them, Xanthe or they will tear us apart!”

He pulled her onto her feet and half dragged her down the road. Above their heads a final lightning strike ripped through the clouds, tearing them asunder and they gave birth to the most fearsome rainstorm the land had ever seen. The drops were large, heavy and hard and they were relentless as they fell, causing everything they touched to be soaked within seconds.

The road turned to mud and instead of Xanthe tripping over things, she now slipped and skidded in the slush that buried her up to her ankles and ripped off her shoes. Her hand slipped out of Frederik’s as she plunged forward, skidding into a puddle and banging her chin. Frederik spun around.

“Xanthe!” He cried, his vision blinded by the pouring rain and more thunder crashed overhead.

“I am here!” She clambered to her knees.

“Come on.”

“I cannot,” she wept, “I cannot move another step!”

“You cannot stay here! They will be upon us in a heartbeat!”

“I tell you I cannot move another step!” She yelled at him, her hair dark from the rain and tangled across her face. “My feet…”

Frederik pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked around. “I am going to go back to the curve in the road to see how close they are.”

Xanthe nodded then dragged herself from the muddy hole that had formed around her and slumped against a tree. Somewhere beneath the voluminous folds of her gown were her ruined stockings and her shoeless feet. She clutched at them and bit her bottom lip so hard she drew blood.

“What have I done?” She rocked, trying to escape the pain. “What have I done?”

Abruptly Frederik appeared beside her, his face constricted with terror. “Run!” He cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her onwards. Xanthe spared a glance over her shoulder and her heart turned to ice in her breast. She could see shapes back at the turn in the road. When the lightning blazed through the sky the shapes became men with pitchforks and axes.

And her fear gave her strength to run.

There was no where that wasn’t soggy and Jé Kinah was fed up with being wet. Her tinder wouldn’t light a fire and even if it had, the sodden wood wouldn’t burn. But while the storm had been drenching, it had also blown itself out quite quickly and the blue of the sky could easily be seen through the wispy, washed out clouds that were strewn across the sky. In place of the rain there was a brisk, lazy breeze that skipped across the leaves and ground that was still wet, turning it icy cold. No doubt when the sun rose and gained its full strength it would be a very pleasant day. Until then, however, Jé Kinah took up refuge in the forked trunk of a large oak. She sat on her oiled cloak while her more recently acquired red wool riding hood and cloak was tucked around her slender body and kept the chill at bay.

At a glance Jé Kinah looked like a slender, finely featured young woman with moss green eyes. She was dressed in earthy tones, a long sleeved tunic with a belt cinched at her waist and tights tucked into her knee high boots. But upon closer inspection her pointed ears, her white blonde hair and the way the green in her eyes never seemed to stay still gave away her elf lineage.

She was eating an apple, looking out over crossroads and debated her next direction when a crowd of at least thirty men who were wet, muddy and cold slid into the sludge of pooled water and dirt where the roads met and began to debate heatedly with each other. Unaware that they were being watched, Jé Kinah studied them. Their clothes indicated that most of them were working class men. The majority wore open neck shirts, braces and trousers and either knitted cardigans with countless holes or jackets with the edges fraying. There were a couple in distinctly finer tailored clothing but the mud and rain and made equals of them all. Some bore pitchforks, others had axes and some had serrated knives, the like of which Jé Kinah was unfamiliar.

The core of the group consisted of a man who wore a suit of some kind that barely fitted his generous girth. Next to him were two men, possibly brothers, who were arguing over something in their midst. There seemed to be a difference of opinion as to which way they thought they should go. And while the rest of the men had, no doubt, started out in a rage the night before, they were tired, hungry and lost now.

One of the brothers looked around and spotted Jé Kinah.

“Oy! You there!” Jé Kinah flinched and resisted the temptation to check to make sure her hood was up. The man came over to the fence and the crowd shifted with him. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” Jé Kinah replied tersely, not liking his tone.

“Have you seen anyone pass through here?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“You.”

The man swore under his breath and went to storm away. His brother clapped him on the shoulder. “Forgive the rude nature of the enquiry, fair traveller. We are weary from the hunt and are cold and wet.”

“All that you have said is true.” Jé Kinah remarked.

“Apart from us, have you seen anyone pass through these crossroads?”

She paused. “No. I have only been here for an hour or so.” The man nodded and went to turn away. “That is an interesting device you have.” He turned and jumped in fright when he saw Jé Kinah had disembarked her perch in the oak in the blink of an eye and was squatting on the fence post closest to him, looking at the object in his hand. It was a peach and cream coloured snail shell, the size of two fists pressed together and it was full of water. A tiny fish swam around inside of it, darting all over as if it was confused. “How does such a thing work?”

“It doesn’t.” The big man retorted.

“May I?” Jé Kinah held her hand out. She saw the first brother shake his head but the second handed it to her. She gently pressed the water. It was hard like glass but she could see the tiny silver fish swimming around quite happily inside. She turned it upside down and the water didn’t fall out. “Fascinating. Where did you get this?”

“An old crone that lives in a cave that faced the ocean sold it to us. It cost a fortune and the damn thing doesn’t work.”

“And what, pray tell, is it meant to do?”

Suddenly a hand that stunk of rotten fish grabbed her around the neck and the big man jostled her head so her hood fell back, exposing her ears. “Why should we tell you…she-elf?” Jé Kinah heard a discontented murmur ripple through the group and she focused her green eyes on the man. “I know what you are and we all know what your people did when the Black Death wiped out thousands of humans. They could have saved us with their skills of healing yet they left us to rot as they did nothing. And that is what you are to us. Nothing.”

“Jakob let her go. Jakob!” The first brother couldn’t remove Jakob’s hand from her neck. “She’s not who we’re after.”

His grip wasn’t tight enough to crush her throat but his strength was impressive. Jé Kinah gritted her teeth and whipped out the dagger from the sheath on her hip and held it to Jakob’s throat. “I have no quarrel with you,” she hissed, “but if you do not release me I’ll split you from top to toe.”

The second brother stood alongside Jé Kinah. “She’s an elf, Jakob! They are legendary trackers! She can help us hunt down the demon!” Jakob hesitated. “It’s that or split our company three ways, leaving only one third to try and kill it when they find it.”

Jé Kinah saw compliance register in Jakob’s eyes and he let go. Jé Kinah wanted to rub her neck but her pride kept her exactly where Jakob released her.

“Can you track it?” He demanded.

“A demon you say?” Jé Kinah asked, her interest peaked.

“A dangerous, powerful demon that has ravished our kingdom, killed our people and fled with our King as its captive.” The first brother picked up the device from where Jé Kinah had dropped it. “This was supposed to track it but it keeps going in circles.”

“We can pay you…” The second brother heard the grumbles of the men around him. “…well…we can…”

“Before we agree to anything,” Jakob rumbled, “let us first see if she can actually track. I’m not parting with another copper until I know that what I’m paying for actually works.”

The men made another round of grunts, this one agreeing with Jakob. Jé Kinah jumped nimbly off the fence post, walked past Jakob and slipped through the ranks of the men to where the crossroads met. She started at the far left road and worked her way right, her eyes seeing things men would miss and her lightness foot left not a single track.

“The heavy rain has made it rather more difficult than it should be.” She remarked.

“Now there’s a surprise.” Jakob sneered.

“However,” she looked up and continued as though Jakob hadn’t spoken, “the only two people who have passed this way in the last twenty four hours were a man at least six feet tall and wearing heavily soled boots and his companion, a woman in a pink silk dress, auburn hair and bare feet.” She raised her eyebrows. “She is shorter than her male companion and there is evidence that she is injured.”

The brothers looked at Jakob who frowned at her. The first brother stepped forward. “That is who we after.”

The second brother joined him. “If you help us capture these two who have escaped the laws of the kingdom, we will make some kind of recompense…”

“Payment is not necessary.” Jé Kinah held up her hand.

“What are you, a saint?” Jakob demanded.

“No. My terms are thus. I will help you track your demon and when we find it, I will kill it.”

Jé Kinah stayed at least thirty feet ahead of the crowd. They needed her. Didn’t mean they liked her. Jakob still glared daggers at her and the elder of the brothers, Lennart, stayed back with Jakob and the crowd to keep them under control. Jé Kinah had seen enough raging mobs in her time to know that they were highly dangerous, unstable things and without someone firm at the helm they could easily switch targets. And elves, it seemed, were liked even less here than they were anywhere else.

The younger brother, Georg, however, kept up pace with her. “You really can tell they came this way?” He asked, peering at the road that Jé Kinah had just studied. “All I see is mud.”

“They came this way,” Jé Kinah pointed, “I can see there that the woman is leaning on him.”

“She’s not a woman. She’s a demon.”

“Really? She has a smaller foot than I and, by her stride, she is a good six inches shorter.” Jé Kinah lifted her gaze. “She would not be a formidable sight if this is her true form.”

“It isn’t.”

“True?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable, a demon in human form. Jakob knew from the very beginning she was evil but no one believed him.” Georg glanced over his shoulder at the burly man who had an eternal glare on his face. “It’s not often you hear that your monarch has wed a devil in female clothing.”

“Your monarch?”

“The man she’s with, who nine months ago was a prince and is now a king. King Frederik. He is the only son of the late King Rasmus and heir to the throne of, what once was our kingdom that we left at the crossroads.”

“He married her?”

Georg sighed. “I was not there personally, you understand. Fishermen are rarely invited to royal weddings. And at the time we were all delighted that the Kingdom would have a Queen again. Queen Ann,” he snorted, “we had no idea the ruin she would wreck upon us.”

“Perhaps you would do better to start at the beginning.” Jé Kinah advised. She had removed her cape, lowered her hood and walked in the warm sunshine. The breeze was still cool but it was high summer and the sun glared down on the little earth and was fast baking the wet ground, dry.

“From what I understand Prince Frederik was on one of the kingdom’s ships when a storm hit and threw the prince overboard.” Georg cleared his throat. “He was discovered alive and well, claiming that a young woman had saved him and he was determined to marry her. Barely two weeks later there was a wedding at the castle but the woman he married is not the woman who saved him.”

“Men can be fickle in their vows of love,” Jé Kinah said, unable to keep the bitterness entirely from her voice, “he may have simply changed his mind.”

“I do not mean he chose someone else,” Georg insisted, “I mean, he went to marry one woman and came out wedded to another.”

Jé Kinah looked at him in disbelief. “Surely that is impossible.”

“You tell me. Prince Frederik was betrothed to the daughter of the English King. Everyone knew he wasn’t happy about it but his father, King Rasmus, had decided as much and he wasn’t one to be disagreed with. But twelve days after the shipwreck, the wedding of Prince Frederik to Princess Ann was announced, two days later was a wedding and then that very night the king dies and Prince Frederik becomes King.”

Jé Kinah had hoped she had started out on this quest with an open mind, to discover the truth and not blindly follow what she was told. But if what Georg said was true it was becoming harder to entertain the possibility that those they pursued might be innocent.

“You think she killed his father?”

“I do not know what to think. All I know is that our kingdom is in the grip of civil war and we are a lost, lonely and starving people. We want our King back and for our country to be as it was.”

“If it is possible, I will bring him back to you.” Jé Kinah stopped. “Wait,” she looked at the ground, “the tracks stop here.” She looked around. They were surrounded by fields of corn that had been beaten down by the heavy storm. A small distance away was a house and a barn. “This way.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because in a storm like the one last night even an elf looks for shelter. Have the rest of the men inquire at the house, although perhaps do not all stand on their doorstep. You do not want to frighten the people who live here.”

“If they are still alive.” Georg murmured but followed her instructions. Jé Kinah followed the tracks and bent stalks towards the barn. At the barn door she noted the strands of hair caught on a nail. Inside the dark, cool barn her eyes were even keener than in the day and she could easily see the sweep of straw and hay dust trail which headed to the ladder. She was as silent as a feather as she climbed up to the hay loft and, once up, tip toed around the enormous pile to find a hiding place.

It was deserted. But there was no doubt the King and his bride had taken shelter here. Mud, probably from the King’s boots, a few more strands of hair and a tattered pink silk ribbon gave away the former occupants. Jé Kinah knelt, picked the ribbon up and sniffed it. Her skin prickled and she shivered. There was some kind of enchantment, or the echo of an enchantment, in this bed of straw.

“If you are going to try to kill me, you should never hesitate.” She said calmly to the person behind her.

“You got eyes in the back of your head?”

“No. But you have a heavy tread and you limp with your left.” She stood up and turned to see, what she assumed was, the farmer with his pitchfork lowered towards her. His clothes were well worn and mended many times and his face was wrinkled like a piece of parchment with grey eyes set against his silver hair. “And you smell of apples.”

The farmer gave a shrug. “Apple cider. I made a fresh batch two days ago which those men I’m assuming you arrived with are now consuming. And you’re wrong. I’m not going to kill you.” He lifted the pitchfork up. “I ain’t never refused a dry bed to anyone and I don’t intend to start now.”

“I do not require a bed. Just answers.”

The farmer reached into his pocket and fished out a pair of spectacles. Jé Kinah felt a jolt of alarm and gave her hair a quick ruffle so that her ears were covered.

“Didn’t use to need these confounded things.” He grunted and peered at her. “You’re a woman! Well, you best be coming into the house.”

“No cider for me then?”

“Birte wouldn’t hear of a woman sitting with the lads. Always a proper lady my Birte.” The farmer left the pitchfork leaning against the wall and led Jé Kinah a short distance from the barn, past a row of rose bushes to the house. Jé Kinah could see all the men around a large barrel of cider, drinking deep. “Best be going in the back. If I get mud on the rugs…”

“I suspect Birte would not like that either.”

“Exactly.” He opened the door. “Birte my love, another barn dweller. She came with the lot out the front.”

“Alfred, it is Brigitte when we have company.” Birte was a petite woman with beautiful blue eyes, soft grey hair tied in a bun and the rosiest cheeks Jé Kinah had ever seen. “Well now…we do not have many female visitors to the barn,” she gestured to a chair at the table that took up most of the space in the large kitchen, “and you seemed to have brought your own private army with you.”

“It is rather that they brought me.” Jé Kinah corrected, taking in the kitchen in a sweeping glance. She noted the small pile of dishes in the ceramic sink, the collection of copper pots and pans hanging above and a generous walk in pantry off to one side.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely.”

It actually was. Elves preferred to eat and drink directly from nature. They detested ‘doing’ things to food to make it more edible. If it wasn’t edible straight from where it came, then they had very little interest in it. But the tea was deeply delicious and instead of sugar it was sweetened with honey.

“You have a beautiful home.” Jé Kinah noted.

“It was my grandfather’s gift to his wife, oh, must be nearly a century ago. He was the King’s master builder so he made sure it was up to royal standards.” Alfred took up his pipe. Even with her back to him as she did the dishes Birte knew exactly what he was doing.

“Outside if you intend to smoke!”

Alfred rolled his eyes at Jé Kinah who couldn’t resist smiling at the years of love and familiarity between them as he went out the front, she guessed, to sit with the rest of the men.

“I detest the smell of pipe smoke in my house,” Birte flicked the soap suds from her hands and wiped them on her apron, “for I can never quite get it out of my curtains. Now then dear, I hope you do not think me impolite when I ask, but what is a fair maid like you doing with such a rough, blood thirsty crowd?”

“I hardly think wet, muddy and exhausted men warranted such a sinister description.” Jé Kinah pointed out.

“Perhaps they have lost their initial fire. But make no mistake, a single gust of dissention and they will rage once more.”

Jé Kinah eyed Birte as she sipped her tea. “They are looking for someone. Two someones. A man they say is their King and his companion.”

“They say many things I imagine.”

“You do not question whether they might be right?”

“A mob is never right.” Birte replied firmly. “Whatever these people may have done, chasing them across kingdoms with axes and pitchforks is hardly the way to bring about justice and change.”

“Why did they run then?”

“How am I to know?”

“I thought perhaps you might have seen them. They were here.”

“Many people pass by here.”

“I did not say pass. I said they were here. In your barn.”

Brite set her up down on its saucer. “Many have stayed in our barn over the years. It is a sad truth of this world that there will always be people in need of shelter and food. We do what we can for them.”

“Those lads can knock back a pint or two!” Alfred marched back into the kitchen. “Fishermen are always decent drinkers.”

“This young lady…” Brite looked at her with her bright blue eyes.

“Jé Kinah.”

“Jé Kinah was just asking if we had seen a gentleman and his lady companion on the road recently.”

“It is a busy road,” Alfred put his pipe down and stuck his hands in his pockets, “and the storm kept everyone at bay.”

“Thank you.” Jé Kinah stood up. “I hate to impose but do you have anywhere I might wash up?”

“My daughter’s old room. It is the first door on your left.”

The room was cozy. There was a quilt on the bed, another one on the wall and a rug on the floor. There was an oval mirror on a dressing table that held a ceramic bowl and matching jug, both covered in pink roses. Jé Kinah felt a pang of longing as she looked around the room. She had no doubt it had been a loving home to grow up in.

Humans didn’t realize it but their emotions left impressions on the world. The more intense the emotion the stronger the impression left behind. For the most part humans were unaware of these impressions and those sensitive enough to feel them would say if a particular room or home or plot of land was good or if it had something evil about it. These impressions were everywhere in the world for humans knew no boundaries and had populated every land mass they could. And wherever they went they left impressions to find. This was the main reason why elves had kept themselves so separate to humans to the point of avoiding them. A room that had a slightly melancholy mood could cause an elf to start dancing with joy, fall in love with a perfect stranger or even reduce an elf to tears and die of heartache. Jé Kinah felt the same way about this room. It was so inviting, so loved in that she could have thrown her quest to the wind and happily lived there for the rest of her life.

Jé Kinah breathed through the emotion and sat down at the mirror. Overlaid over her own reflection she saw a slightly rounder face in the reflection with straight, pale brown hair and her mother’s blue eyes. It had to be Birte’s daughter and previous occupant of the room. The impression of emotion was so strong that Jé Kinah felt as though she had come home. Almost subconsciously she followed her reflection’s motions as she reached for her hairbrush. But when Jé Kinah’s hand grasped air she blinked, removing herself from the control of emotions. The reflection still looked back as she brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks. And then the image began to fade…

Jé Kinah leaned forward to reach out and touch the mirror, trying to keep the image from disappearing altogether. The glass was firm under her fingertips and then, like she had touched a still pond, ripples distorted its surface. Jé Kinah drew her fingers back slightly and the image cleared so that only one face looked out at her, the face of a young woman. It wasn’t Birte’s daughter that gazed back at her and it wasn’t her own reflection. It was a lovely face with round eyes as blue as fresh spring sky, curling hair of the darkest brown and full, rose pink lips.

And it was gazing at her with complete comprehension, as though she was on the other side of a mirror somewhere, gazing at the reflection of Jé Kinah. This was no mere human impression of a previous occupant. The mirror had somehow become a window and the two women who gazed at each other through a thin piece of mirror glass could have been on opposite sides of the earth.

Jé Kinah knew she was not a figment of her imagination or a hallucination. She was real.

“How is this possible?” She whispered. “Where have you been? Who have you become?”

The dark haired woman beamed at her, a dimple appearing in one cheek and her eyes sparkled brightly. She reached out her hand and pressed it to the glass. Jé Kinah was vaguely aware of the room becoming dark as clouds covered the sun. Transfixed by the image she reached out her hand to do the same but hovered just beyond the mirror’s surface. Her mouth was dry and her throat closed over. The reflection nodded, encouraging her to touch the mirror again.

A shiver ran through her body and Jé Kinah shook her head.

“No.” She whispered and began to draw back.

The beautiful face transformed in an instant to a ferocious snarl and suddenly her hand plunged through the liquid mirror and grabbed Jé Kinah’s arm with a grip like ice. Jé Kinah gasped and tried to pull away as the reflection lunged towards her. With a shriek Jé Kinah threw herself backwards, the hand tearing from her tunic and the mirror exploding into a thousand pieces. Jé Kinah cowered from the glass but didn’t feel the shards pierce her. When she opened her eyes the whole room had been dusted with tiny crystals. She shook them off and they floated to the floorboards, melted and disappeared. Only the back of the mirror remained in the dressing table with a couple of small pieces of mirror left, wedged into the oval frame and all they reflected was Jé Kinah’s stunned expression.

“Oh my!”

She spun around, Birte in the doorway, her hand over her mouth, staring at Jé Kinah.

“I can explain!” Jé Kinah blurted then wondered how on earth she was going to do so.

“You are an elf!”

Jé Kinah wanted to clap her hands over her ears but realized, thankfully before she did so, that such an action would look childish. Still it was hard to resist the urge. Birte stepped forward with wide, blue eyes, her fingers trembling as she bit her bottom lip.

“That I, in my old age, should have lived to see an elf.” Jé Kinah was astonished to see tears in her eyes. “My grandfather used to tell me stories of the fair folk, of elves and other creatures that were once plentiful on the earth that have long since vanished into the shadows. And I prayed every night that I would see one.”

“You do not have your kind’s usual response to elves.” Jé Kinah remarked. She was still very much shaken but hiding it all behind her cool demeanour.

“Oh I know there are those that resent your folk for all manner of reasons. The Black Death, the wars that have raged and killed hundreds,” Birte admitted, “but I have no reason to despise you, especially since you have now granted my childhood wish.”

Not really sure how to respond Jé Kinah managed to say. “You are welcome.”

“I truly thought I would never see your kind,” Birte continued, “even in my grandfather’s day, the numbers of elves had already become so very few…”

“The elves removed themselves from the earth,” Jé Kinah explained, “they…could not live alongside humans anymore.”

“But you stayed.”

A muscle in Jé Kinah’s jaw tweaked and she nodded. “I stayed.”

Birte smiled and then her brow furrowed. “Then, if I may be so bold, what are you doing with the rabble outside? I thought your kind noble and true. At least that is what I was led to believe.”

“I am tracking the runaways for them.”

“Runaways? You make it sound like it is a crime. It is only natural to run from the justice of a mob.”

“I am not tracking them so that they can be brought to their kind of justice. I was told that one of them is a demon in disguise. As the last elf on earth, it is my duty to destroy any demons I encounter.”

Birte snorted then covered her hand, embarrassed at such an unladylike sound. “A demon indeed.”

“You do not believe in demons?”

“I do. But I cannot believe…”

Jé Kinah eyed Birte directly. “Demons are treacherous things that enter into lopsided bargains with humans. They pray on weak, hurting souls and offer them power to seek revenge, gain happiness, live forever…whatever it is that the human wants. But the moment the demon is in control, it burns the human from the inside out and uses it to its own end.” She stepped closer to Birte who was worrying her bottom lip again. “I cannot allow such a creature to decimate a person, let alone a kingdom. But I also will not let fear and anger destroy one, possibly two, innocents in the process. Which way did they go?”

Birte swallowed. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because I saw the silk ribbon in the loft and the place in the straw where they slept. Because you said one of the fugitives was a woman before I ever mentioned it. Because there were four bowls, spoons and cups in the sink and stuffed under the wood pile at the backdoor is a pink silk gown. Because I have not told Jakob or Georg or any of the mob that they were here.”

Birte sank onto the bed, a little pale and distraught. “They were so frightened and cold and alone. Alfred found them in the loft early this morning. He brought them inside and we fed and clothed them. The woman, Xanthe, is barely more than a child! She was barefoot and shaking. I gave her one of my daughter’s old dresses to wear and put shoes on her feet.”

“Are you sure her name was Xanthe?”

“That is what the young man called her. I thought it odd. It is not a name common around here.” Birte shook her head. “I do not understand. Why would a demon be so downtrodden? Why wouldn’t it take its revenge on those that were after it? I cannot believe such an innocent can be evil.”

“I do not have the answers you seek. But I promise that I will ensure their safety if they are innocent, on my honour as an elf.” Jé Kinah put her hand on Birte’s. “Please, which way did they go?”

Alfred opened the door to the pantry and pointed to a potato bin built right onto the floor. There were potatoes on either side of it and he lifted the latch to show that it was empty. “My grandfather lived through several wars in his time and even harboured sick and injured on both sides. He saw the need for an escape tunnel. It took him years to dig and it saved hundreds of lives. He grabbed a heavy metal ring at the bottom and yanked it up to show a ladder leading straight down. “It drops about twelve feet and then runs straight out to the woods at the far end of my land, due South. The end of it is a bit overgrown with gorse. I kind of like it that way.”

Jé Kinah nodded. “Then I will track them at the other end.”

Alfred looked and Birte. “I hope we are doing the right thing.”

“Did they say where they were headed afterwards?”

“If the young man really is King Frederik then his father was great friends with Emperor Ferdinand. Maybe he would head that way.” Alfred eyeballed Jé Kinah. “I do not want that rabble out front to know about this passage.”

“I will not tell a soul. And I will track them from when it ends rather than take the tunnel.” Jé Kinah nodded to them. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Be sure we have not mislaid that trust.” Alfred said with a firm tone.

“There is one thing,” Birte said suddenly, having been consumed with her own wonderings for a while, “something odd about young woman.”

Jé Kinah’s ears pricked up. “Oh?”

“I helped her climb out of that ridiculous silk gown and I noticed her necklace. I may have even gone to touch it, to tell her how lovely it was but she grabbed it quite abruptly and told me not to touch it.”

“Sometimes a demon needs a talisman in order to retain its control or shape.” Jé Kinah explained. “Do you recall what it looked like?”

“It was on a lovely silver chain and the pendant was a seashell.” Birte swallowed. “It could simply have been a necklace.”

“Yes it could. And I will find out.” Jé Kinah touched Birte’s shoulder reassuringly. “I should go. Be well.”

“Good health to you.” Alfred replied and Jé Kinah left by the front door.

All the men looked up. Jakob was frowning. “You took your time.” He muttered. “They could be leagues ahead by now.”

“They are headed south. I saw the tracks from the back of the house. They stayed in the barn overnight and left at first light.” Jé Kinah took up her satchel. “Come. We have most of the day to march.”

Alfred and Birte had not misled them. Jé Kinah picked up the trail easily at the exit point of the tunnel in the forest. The men, revived by their apple cider and having eaten some of their meagre rations, kept up pace fairly well with her as they moved through flat country of fields and paddocks to where the hills began to roll. There were more farms about now, all in the grip of harvest, and the trees grew tall, wide and heavy with leaves. The trail cut across several fields of mounded hay stacks to a smaller, less utilized road but she didn’t lose sight of it once.

That night they camped next to a river and were able to light a fire that burned weakly. While the men slumped on the ground, their bodies exhausted and their resolve wavering, Jé Kinah reclined in a tree above their heads. A whole day with them hadn’t improved their opinion of her. She had heard Jakob say on several of occasions, none too subtly, that she had lost the trail and they were going around in circles. The tracks of the King and his bride were as clear to the she-elf as if their footprints were painted white. She had told the doubting Thomases they were welcome to turn around and return home and leave the hunt to her. She was none too surprised that they all refused.

Had she been able to slip away unnoticed she might have gone ahead on her own but Jakob stayed awake all night long, his eyes fixed on her location. Jé Kinah would have liked the chance to talk to the fugitives especially after what Birte and Alfred had said about them. There was a side to the story that she hadn’t heard yet and she suspected it would fill in the gaps in the strange saga. However, it didn’t look as though she could shake them and so, when dawn broke the next morning, she roused the men, crumpled and weary, and led them on their way.

By the end of that day’s march the men were exhausted, their spirits low and their bellies were empty. Only Georg kept up chirpy conversation which grated on Jé Kinah’s nerves and, she suspected on his brother’s and Jakob’s as well. It seemed that all roads in that part of the country led them to a decent sized town at the heart of the farming community. By the time they reached it, the sky was dark and the moon’s limpid glow did nothing to keep the men from tripping over their own feet. There was a tavern in the town which was where they decided to stay. The men wanted a hot meal and a decent place to sleep.

“Can’t really blame them can you? We’ve been on the road for three days and this will be our third night.” Georg handed Jé Kinah ale in a stein. The room was filled with smoke from the fire and a dozen pipes in the room. She could smell a combination of sweat, smoke, cedar, ale, dirt and meat. It was quite sickening and there was no where to go in the tavern to get away from it all.

It was a large building with shutters on the narrow windows all the way down the side that faced the road. At the far end was an area for a musical troupe to play and at the other were a couple of archways that led into more private nooks for smaller companies. It was the end of a long day for the landowners of the town so there was noise and toasting and arguments throughout. The owners and workers of the tavern were kept ferociously busy pouring ale after ale and the kitchen was doing a roaring trade. Every table in the tavern was cluttered with steins and plates of either stew or fat sausages, mounds of sauerkraut, bread and butter. Jé Kinah even saw several workers dash upstairs with food and drink, probably to be served to those staying in the tavern’s accommodation, their boots thumping loudly on the wooden stairs. And all the while the musicians kept up a lively pace with their music. It was all a little much on the she-elf’s senses. She, Georg, Lennart and Jakob were in the closest archway to the stairs that led to the accommodation above.

“We should have pressed on,” Jakob argued, “we do not have long to go.”

“To go before what?” Georg asked.

“Before the men give up...before we turn back. The demon could escape and the kingdom will never be united.”

“Each man in this company took an oath that we wouldn’t stop until we have brought the demon down.” Lennart drank his ale.

“Men are fickle things.” Jakob muttered. Georg and Lennart glanced at each other, amused.

“Oh they are, are they?” Georg snorted.

“I blame the token.” Lennart added. “If it had worked we could have been home by this morning!”

“I told you it wasn’t necessary. I told you not to buy the blasted thing!” Jakob snapped.

“May I see it again?” Jé Kinah held the shell in her hands and watched the fish swim back and forth across its tiny existence. “It certainly cannot decide which direction it should be pointing.”

“Would you be throwing it off?” Lennart asked. Jé Kinah looked at him, knowing one of her eyebrows was rising at the impertinent remark. Lennart’s face reddened and he drank deep into his ale.

“Did the crone say it tracked non humans or demons?”

“She did say demons,” Georg sighed, “perhaps we are using it incorrectly?”

“More likely she was a charlatan and made off with your gold the moment you were on your search for justice,” Jé Kinah put it on the table and looked around at them, “or is it vengeance?”

Jakob smirked into his ale, his nails lined with black. “Oh let us all bow down to the superior knowledge of the elf!”

Jé Kinah tensed, her eyes flickering around at the crowd in the tavern. Fortunately the clamour of harvest time celebrations and drinking had drowned out Jakob’s words. Georg grasped Jakob’s arm.

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, “or do you want them to burn her at the stake?”

“And us along with her?” Lennart added, a spark of reason appearing in Jakob’s eyes. “We are in witch burning territory and just because we do not have pointed ears it does not mean we won’t be strung up with her.”

“I am not a witch.” Jé Kinah said coldly.

“You are not human and that is enough in these parts.” Lennart glared at Jakob. “Do not lose your head.”

“But she doesn’t believe us. She thinks we are trying to exact revenge.”

“Are you not?” Jé Kinah challenged.

Jakob leaned forward. “You were not there. You couldn’t possibly know the depths of her betrayal, the way she chose that mindless little prince and ruined everything. She betrayed me!”

Jé Kinah was the only one who didn’t jump when Jakob’s fist struck the table. She kept her eyes on him, seeing his features twist into hatred. “You are taking it very personally.” She said, unafraid of him though it was clear Lennart and Georg were. “I wonder if you should not return to your kingdom and allow those with clearer heads to apprehend your King and his bride.”

Jakob leaned over. “I’ll be damned if I let a she-elf tell me what to do.”

“Tempers are high and nerves are shot,” Lennart gushed quickly, “and maybe elves can remove themselves from the heartache of betrayal and look at the ways of man with clinical precision...but I think even you would struggle not to condemn the false queen.”

“I have yet to hear anything that condemns her that could not be put down to coincidence or paranoia.” Jé Kinah said coolly. “I know that there is a form of enchantment in use but as to whether it is malevolent or not...”

“Then you should know exactly how she manipulated the King into ruining us all.” Lennart said firmly. “We are a fishing Kingdom. That is how we make a living. Of course we have farmers and herdsmen but our kingdom is not large and almost entirely surrounded by the ocean. When the prince married, we rejoiced! But within six months the new queen had banned us from fishing.”

“Queen Ann?”

Jakob snorted. “She is not Ann. I was there. I worked in the castle. I saw Princess Ann walking on the private beach of the castle. The woman who became Queen is not Princess Ann.”

“Did anyone else see Ann before the wedding?” Jé Kinah inquired. Georg and Lennart both shrugged.

“She was kept under lock and key. No one was permitted to see her until the wedding and even then we are told she wore a ridiculous billowing veil.” Lennart admitted.

“There were rumours of what she really was, of what she became in the night but we did not want to believe it.” Georg added. “After the wedding, after Frederik’s father died and he became king, he encouraged us to find work on land…”

“Not enough land for the workers.” Jé Kinah understood.

“We took to fishing at night so that we couldn’t be seen. Then the King announced laws that if anyone was caught fishing, they would be punished. And the punishments became worse and worse as the people became more and more desperate…”

“And all the while the demon sat on her throne and did nothing.” Jakob muttered. “I worked in the castle kitchens. I saw her apathy. And one time I saw her without shoes. She was bathing her feet and I swear she had webbed toes. The King was entirely under her spell. He locked the gates and shut the castle up so that no one could get in or out.”

“In the end the people became so desperate that they lay siege to the castle, climbed the walls and took it by force,” Lennart breathed out heavily, “not one of our finer moments.”

“It was justified.” Jakob snapped, his red rimmed eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

“Were there any innocents killed in the siege?” Jé Kinah asked softly. The mood became quiet and sombre. Jé Kinah looked around at their shadowed faces. “I see. And the King and Queen?”

“They escaped not long before we managed to gain entry to the castle.”

“Well that is tale worth reflecting upon,” Jé Kinah stood up, “I shall take some fresh air.”

“Don’t be going too far she-elf,” Jakob grunted, “you promised to track them down.”

“And then I promised to kill the demon.” Jé Kinah reminded the angry man. “You do not need to remind me of my promise. As an eternal elf I will keep it and any others I make until the end of my days, even unto the end of time.”

The night air was a welcomed relief. She went to a large oak that was leaning over the tavern and pressed against it, gazing at the golden lights through the dirty panes in the windows. She reached up and held the little vial tied with a leather strap around her neck and sighed.

“What do I do?” She whispered to the night sky. “What would you do?” Her heart twisted in her breast as she invoked memories that she both adored and feared. Every single moment was bittersweet and she had yet to find out how to smile without crying.

“Good morning princess.”

“I am tired of all your good.”

“I do apologise but it is sad when one is tired of good.”

“You are such a fool.”

“Yes I am. My mother always said I had a fool’s head but a knight’s heart. I think it is better to be that way than the other. Good day princess.”

Suddenly the tavern door opened and Jakob came out, Lennart right behind him. They were talking strongly and Jé Kinah shied away from the light. The noise of the tavern had increased through the open door and their words were broken and muffled.

“…time…dawn…lost…useless…”

Lennart tried to reason with Jakob but he shook his hand away and stormed off into the night. Jé Kinah suspected he was going to try tracking the fugitives on his own. It would be impossible for him to do so. Jé Kinah had even started to doubt if she could pick the trail up now that they had entered a town. There was so much traffic, so many footprints and a road as hard as stone that gave very little away. Perhaps if she wasn’t bound by the humans who required so much sleep and who tired so easily…elves could go for days without sleep but humans…

Suddenly Jé Kinah jolted. “Humans need sleep.” She gasped and looked up. Some of the windows to the rooms available to rent were open, letting a little light out into the night. Most were closed and had their curtains drawn. The only way to reach the top level was through the main bar. Jé Kinah didn’t like her chances of getting through there unnoticed.

She moved around the back of the tavern and hid in the shadows of the vine that covered a good portion of the tavern’s width. She could see a back entrance now where the workers were able to reach the water pump and trough that had been built several metres from the tavern. Jakob was there, speaking furiously with one of the workers who kept shaking his head and waving at him to go away. Jakob growled mightily and stomped off. Jé Kinah sidled up behind the worker who was filling a bucket from the pump.

“…sea water! As if I am going to get sea water around here! I’ve got enough to do tonight without trying to find patrons sea water!”

He stormed back inside and before the door locked shut Jé Kinah slid her lithe body inside. There was a great deal of noise coming from the tavern and the kitchen behind the stairs. Silently Jé Kinah crept up the stairs. Even in the dimly lit passage she could see drops of water and followed them to their source which was a door about halfway down the passage. Soft light peeked out from the bottom of the door.

Jé Kinah put her ear to the door but the noise downstairs was drowning out the subtleties she had hoped to pick up. Instead she knocked.

“More hot water.” She called. She could make out a few muffled shushes and the light was interrupted by someone standing in front of the door on the other side.

“We are fine. Thank you.” Replied a deep male voice.

“Very well.” Jé Kinah waited in the soft light until the legs moved away from the door before she simply kicked it in.

Immediately someone swung something at her, probably a plank of wood. Jé Kinah ducked to avoid it, rolled then turned in a graceful spinning kick. She collected with someone and a woman cried out, “Erik!”

Jé Kinah drew her crystal white blade from her hip sheath out in a single smooth motion and extended her arm out, the edge of the blade to the man’s throat. “Halt!” She cried and the man froze, the plank held high. “Move and you will be dead before you hit the floor.” To his credit, he complied, the silver blade icy cold against his skin. He was a handsome young man with stormy blue eyes that were deeply shadowed. His face had facial hair at least three days old and he had a face that looked like it had been carved from marble topped with thick ebony hair.

Jé Kinah turned her attention on the woman. She was little and lovely, perfectly formed with large sea green eyes made even wider with fear. Her hair was dark and yet when the light struck Jé Kinah could see ribbons of rich red and thought that, in the light, her hair would be the most extraordinary hue. Her gaze travelled downwards, taking in the shell necklace around her neck, the woollen dress that Birte had most likely given her, the scratches on her arms and finally her feet that were sitting in a tub of water.

And in the reflection of the water Jé Kinah saw ripples of pearlescent colour and for a moment she could hear laughter and splashing and taste salt on her lips. “You are a mermaid,” she murmured, “not a demon. A mermaid.”

“I am,” the young woman trembled, “or I was. Are you going to kill me?”

Jé Kinah dropped her arm and glanced back at the man who had yet to lower the plank of wood. “I was thinking about it.” She sheathed her dagger and the man relinquished the beam, leaning it against the wall. “You ought to know that there is an angry mob downstairs that would like to see you burned at the stake.” The woman whimpered.

“I thought we had lost them at the crossroads.” The man muttered.

“They may have had some help finding you.” Jé Kinah admitted. “King Frederik?”

“I am,” he said nobly then seemed to slump, “or I was.”

Jé Kinah folded her arms. “I suggest you tell me your side of the tale and for your sakes, I would stick to the truth.”

“It wasn’t meant to be like this.” Frederik began. He held his wife’s hands firmly in his own as they sat on the bed, Jé Kinah sitting before them on a chair, listening intently. “We didn’t mean for anything like this to happen.”

“But it did and it began with a storm at sea.” Jé Kinah prompted.

The young King turned to his bride and nodded.

“We need to tell someone Xanthe. We haven’t been doing so well just on our own.”

She nodded and swallowed. “I am the fifth daughter of Triton who is the mer-king. He rules the Nesoi, the merfolk, under the tyrant of the sea, Poseidon. My mother, who was beautiful and fair and had a voice that no creature could resist, died when I was born. I am told I have my mother’s voice and was named Xanthe after her. My father always taught us that man was our enemy without exception. When my sisters reached fifteen years of age they were permitted to swim to the surface and to look upon man, to understand the nature of our enemy. When I turned fifteen I rose to the surface and followed a human ship out to sea. And it was then I saw Erik…”

The young woman blushed and Jé Kinah could suddenly see just how young she really was. Fifteen. A drop in the ocean of life compared to an elf and still quite young even by human standards.

“It was my eighteenth birthday celebration.” Frederik explained. Jé Kinah fairly winced. Both of them were very young. “I think the captain was a touch drunk because he steered us straight into a storm. In the chaos I was washed overboard.”

“I rescued Erik and took him to dry land.”

“The next thing I remember I woke up on the beach with a shocking headache and a young woman by my side.”

“So it was you he saw.” Jé Kinah remarked.

“No,” Xanthe shook her head, “I had to return to the sea but I waited nearby to make sure he was rescued. As he walked away on the beach, supported by the young woman…I nearly died of grief and yearned to be with him. I was listless and melancholy for days until my sisters told me of the sea witch. My father had exiled her from his realm so when I made the decision to seek her out, it was against my father’s explicit decree to do so.” There was a spark in her eye and slight thrust of her chin. Jé Kinah hid a small smile. Though she was battered by life, this young thing had fire within her. “She had been a mermaid at some point in her life but her hair had become serpents, the scales on her tail had lost their lustre and even seemed tarnished, as though they had rusted. And her mouth was sealed…sewn shut.” Jé Kinah jolted at the memory her words invoked, the battle in the forest…the creatures with eyes that were stitched over.

“She had to write her instructions because she could not speak. She said that magic had limitations and that if the man I loved married another, by dawn the next morning I would melt into the sea and become the foam on the waves…never on land and never a part of the ocean ever again. The sea witch also said I had to give up my voice for my legs. I said I would gladly do so.” Xanthe’s hands went to her throat and jaw. “She tore out my voice as if she was cutting off my tongue and she hid it in a shell. Then my body felt like it was carved in two from the waist down…like I was on fire...I have never felt anything so…”

Jé Kinah restrained her body from shivering. She knew the sensation Xanthe spoke of and its horror had yet to leave her. For all her calm facade, she knew that there were troubled waters just below the surface.

“Hush my love. Do not think on it.” Frederik took her hands and Xanthe looked at her husband and smiled, pushing away the painful memories. A pang of longing struck Jé Kinah as she saw the former mermaid lean on the one she loved. How wonderful it would be to rest in someone’s arms who knew all? How impossible it would be...

“I found her on the beach where I walked constantly looking for the woman I thought had pulled me from the sea.” Frederik continued the narration. “She could not speak so I assumed she was a survivor of a shipwreck with no family. I took her to my home and the servants welcomed her in. We spent many hours together as I showed her the kingdom. I loved to watch her dance and I despaired of ever truly learning her story as she tried desperately to communicate without words. Because she could not speak I poured my heart out to her about my impending engagement to Princess Ann and said that I could not marry someone that I did not love. Xanthe’s eyes conveyed understanding, of compassion and empathy even without words. Her presence alone was a tremendous comfort and my affection for her steadily deepened into love.” Frederik swallowed. “I went to tell my father one morning that I had given up my quest for the woman who rescued me and wanted to marry Xanthe. That was when he introduced me to Princess Ann. It was she who had rescued me from the sea, or so I thought. Even though I had fallen in love with Xanthe, I was a man of my word. My engagement to Princess Ann was announced at once.”

“When I heard the news, I felt like my heart was cut in two just like my fin. I wept unendingly for the two days leading up to the wedding.” Xanthe continued. “The night before the wedding my sisters called to me from a window that looked out over the sea. They said they had heard my weeping and had found a solution. I was given a dagger and I had to stab the prince before the dawn of which the sea witch spoke. Then I would not turn into the foam of the sea but be made whole again and live out my life as a mermaid.”

Jé Kinah pulled the dagger she had always kept on her person since it had first come across her path. It was a highly unique design, its blade polished silver like a mirror with a snowflake carved into the marbled hilt and a blue stone in the pommel. It did not matter what the temperature of the day was. The dagger always felt like she was holding ice.

“Did it look like this?”

“That is it exactly.” Xanthe confirmed.

Frederik frowned. “If you are not here on behalf of the sea witch to kill Xanthe, why do you have her weapon?”

“It is a symbol of a power far greater than the sea witch. I suspect the witch made an alliance to further her own cause. The blade is proof of that alliance. Everyone who recognises it has either wielded it, or been threatened by it.” Jé Kinah sheathed the dagger. “So far I am the only one I know to use it against the power that seems to be intent on destroying happily ever afters. But I have interrupted your narrative. Please go on.”

“I was frightened of being alone forever so I went to do as my sisters had commanded. I couldn’t watch them be married so I hid in the vestibule behind the altar. The newlywed prince and princess went there after the ceremony…but I couldn’t do it. He looked so happy. The princess saw me and cursed me from behind her veil. She ordered that I be banished from the castle. While the prince tried to talk to her I saw she wore this shell necklace. The same one the sea witch trapped my voice in. I used the dagger to cut it from her throat and suddenly the princess’ voice became a rasping wheeze.”

“Hearing her voice like that,” Frederik shuddered, “I pulled back the veil and a face of...I have never seen such a face...”

“The sea witch?”

Xanthe nodded. “She was there for but a split second before she lunged for me and suddenly burst into sea water and drained away.” It was clear the experience had unnerved both of them. Xanthe looked up. “Why would she do that?”

“Retaining a shape not natural to her could have only been accomplished through a talisman. I imagine both her voice and her shape were connected with the shell necklace. When you removed it, she could not hold her form any longer.”

“But then, how can Xanthe?” Frederik asked. “She has the shell necklace now, true but before that moment, she had no talisman for over a week yet did not revert to being a mermaid. How could she do that?"

Jé Kinah looked at Xanthe with tenderness in her eyes. “True love.”

Xanthe blushed as Frederik wove his fingers through hers. She bit her lip bashfully. “What I actually meant to ask was, why would the sea witch go to all the trouble of making me human when she intended to break my heart so that I became the foam on the waves?”

“I do not know.” Jé Kinah shook her head. “I only have the instincts of the elder. I think this riddle might well be beyond me. Please continue.”

“Xanthe was suddenly able to speak and she explained who she really was. But how were we to explain that to everyone else? We didn’t know what to do.” Frederik explained. “Ann, the sea witch, had insisted on being seen as little as possible by anyone and she had worn the veil through the ceremony, so we realised that no one, apart from myself and my father, knew what she looked like. So Xanthe dressed in the wedding gown and we walked out together before the people as husband and wife.”

Jé Kinah put her hand to her head. “Good grief. That was your solution?”

“We went to my father immediately and explained what had happened. He was overcome and retired to his bedchambers with a headache.” Frederik winced. “He never woke up.”

Jé Kinah stood up and began to pace. “I can see how the people would trade rumours on the authenticity of their queen…but to chase you down like common criminals…”

“That is my fault.” Xanthe offered. Frederik shook his head.

“It is both of our faults but I was King so the blame truly rests with me.”

“You would not have banned fishing if I had not lamented the harvesting of my people.” Xanthe insisted. “Frederik wanted me to meet the people so he took me to the docks. And I saw rows of fish and other creatures strewn about, dead and with no dignity, murdered like cattle. I had swum with some of these creatures. They had been my kin. I couldn’t bear it.”

“And I, love blind and newly in power, decreed that all fishing was banned. Understandably the people resisted and continued to do so in secret. I kept making harder and more extreme laws,” Frederik closed his eyes, “she never asked me to but every time Xanthe wept it broke my heart. so, I enforced the laws without mercy. It is no wonder they revolted and turned on us.”

“Take away a man’s ability to feed and provide for his family and you will make the most morally inclined, ethically sound man turn to violence out of desperation.”

“I realised that too late. I was able to seal up the castle and get us out through the kitchens…and we have been running for three days.”

Jé Kinah pressed her long fingers to her forehead. “What a situation.”

“One you have been dragged into.”

“Make no mistake, I volunteered,” Jé Kinah shook her head, “but I did so in order to kill a demon, not solve a kingdom’s politics. That, I will leave to those wiser than I.”

“We meant to reach Emperor Ferdinand’s domain. I trust him as a friend of my father. We will put ourselves under his law and he will be wise enough to orchestrate a solution.” Frederik stood up. “I am the King. The weight of my decisions rests with me. Xanthe is innocent.”

“Not according to the men I travelled with.”

Frederik and Xanthe looked at each other fearfully. “Do you believe us...or them?”

Jé Kinah paused. “I believe both parties speak the truth but by now the mob downstairs do not care about truth. They care about being able to blame someone.”

Frederik’s jaw tightened. “Me.”

“No. Not you,” Jé Kinah looked at Xanthe, “your wife. They believe you to be under her influence. Should they kill the ‘demon’, their monarch will return to them and their kingdom will be restored.”

Frederik shook his head. “Never. I will not let them harm her. And I am under no spell, no influence. Look at me!” He stood up. “Have I lost control of my senses? Am I blind to you? Or deaf? Or mute?”

Jé Kinah closed her eyes. “You are all three and incredibly young and rather foolish. You are entirely under Xanthe’s influence.” She opened her green eyes again and saw Frederik’s confused expression. “Love and demon possession have strangely similar symptoms. But while a demon will strip your soul and eat you alive, love builds you up and stands with you unconditionally.”

Xanthe gazed at her gently. “You speak as though you know.”

Jé Kinah did not answer.

“I admit I have acted foolishly and rashly and without wisdom.” Frederik said quietly when the silence had stretched out long enough. “But know this. I am not running from my decisions. I am running to a person that I can stand before and know that I will be judged correctly and that Xanthe will be safe. Please, will you help us?”

Jé Kinah grasped the vial around her neck and nodded. “I will ensure you reach Emperor Ferdinand.” Relief flooded across both of their faces. “I will need my satchel and it is downstairs.”

“I will have a servant retrieve it.” Frederik went to the door. “I will be careful not to be seen.”

When he had left Jé Kinah barred the door and turned to Xanthe who was pulling on her shoes, her expression tight.

“What is wrong with your feet?” She asked.

“They are sore from,” Xanthe sighed and closed her eyes, “everything.”

“Not just from running?”

She shook her head. “From the moment I became human every step feels as though I am walking on knives. After running for three days…”

“It must be agony.” Jé Kinah watched Xanthe tug on her other shoe. “You have not told Frederik, have you?”

Xanthe bit her bottom lip. “How could I? With the strange occurrence of Princess Ann, the death of his father and now the fact that his Kingdom is lost…” She squared her shoulders and looked Jé Kinah directly in the eyes. “It is my burden to bear in order to walk on land. And to be with Frederik I gladly bear it.”

Jé Kinah sat down next to her on the bed and looked at the shell necklace around Xanthe’s neck. “Strange that I am quite far from the ocean yet I have seen two shells in two days. May I?” Xanthe nodded. Jé Kinah scooped her long fingers around it and studied it. It was quite a bit smaller than the demon tracking shell downstairs and it sat comfortably in the palm of her hand. The shell sat in a silver net setting on a delicate chain around her neck. “What happens if you take it off?”

“I cannot speak a word.”

“It truly contains your voice then.”

“Not even the death of the sea witch could reunite my voice to my body.”

Jé Kinah sat back. “I am not entirely sure she is dead.”

“You think she still lives?”

“I think one as powerful as she would not be so easily defeated.”

Xanthe shivered. “Thank goodness we are so far from the ocean. It hurt to leave it behind but at least I know the witch couldn’t possibly find us here.” She grasped the shell in a motion that was very familiar to Jé Kinah. She reached up and did the same to the vial. Xanthe watched her do so. “Why do I have the feeling we are very similar, you and I?”

Jé Kinah shook her head. “No. We are nothing alike...and for that, be grateful.”

Xanthe’s brow furrowed but she didn’t get the chance to ask what Jé Kinah meant as there was a knock on the door. Jé Kinah sidled up to it, waited for it to open and brought the dagger to Frederik’s throat.

“You are so fast.” He gasped. She removed the dagger and he dropped her satchel.

“You were not seen?”

“No but we may have a problem anyway.”

“Just the one?”

“The men down there are baying for our blood.”

“You mean the ones who followed you?”

“No,” Frederik locked and barred the door as Jé Kinah checked her satchel and put on her cloak, “I mean all the men in the tavern.”

“How is that possible? They do not even know you in this town!”

“From what I could see there was a big man up the front doing a very good job of telling everyone just what we have done and what they think Xanthe is!”

“Jakob,” Jé Kinah muttered, “and drunkards make for easy targets.”

“He said he knows where we are!”

They all jumped as someone banged on the door.

“We know you’re in there!”

Jé Kinah grabbed the terrified couple. “Out the window!”

The vines gave something for them to clamber down. Jé Kinah was naturally quicker and she landed like a cat, quickly looking around. Xanthe struggled for mermaids had little cause to climb anything and fell. Frederick did the princely thing and caught her.

“Are you hurt?” Xanthe shook her head then stepped forward and gave a short cry. Frederik swept her up in his arms. He looked at Jé Kinah desperately. “She cannot go far like this.”

“Oh I have no intention of going far.” Jé Kinah looked up the main street of the town. “They need to believe you have left the town. We will lie low until they have come to their senses.”

“Or gone on a wild goose chase.” Frederik held Xanthe close. “Lead and we will follow.”

“Keep to the shadow of the trees and try not to fall behind.”

Jé Kinah sprinted away from them, her body lean and low, disappearing into the shadows. Frederik, with Xanthe leaning on him, only just made the darkness when the window they had just climbed out of shattered.

“Heaven help us!” Xanthe gasped.

“Do not listen to them. Listen to me...now run!”

The three of them ran through the town, Xanthe stumbling to keep up. Jé Kinah’s eyes flittered here and there, hunting for somewhere for them to hide. She could hear the rabble spilling out of the tavern as tempers flared and self righteous anger was ignited. At last she spotted the blacksmiths with its door left ajar. It was across the street but they were quickly running out of town to hide in and Xanthe was hobbling badly.

“Run for it!” She ordered and they dashed across the moonlit street where no shadow fell. Time seemed to slow down. She held a faint hope that they would make it yet no one saw them, no one knew they were there. At the edge of the shadow of the enormous blacksmiths Jé Kinah stopped and urged Frederik and Xanthe to run past her as she kept a look out. Outwardly she was calm, however on the inside, her heart was hammering.

Suddenly the stench of rot filled the air and she was grabbed from behind.

“They are here!”

“Jé Kinah!” Frederik cried.

“Get Xanthe out of here!” Jé Kinah ordered, her legs kicking wildly as Jakob dragged her into the light. He had the strength of a bear! “Go!”

“Treacherous she-elf!” Jakob snarled. “You will die along with the little mermaid!” Abruptly he screeched and let go. Jé Kinah was running almost before she hit the ground. She reached the blacksmiths and spun around to see Jakob scowling at Frederik who brandished a poker. There was a gash across the incensed man’s face. Blood should have been gushing out of it yet it was as though his veins ran dry. He seemed insensible of the wound, his eyes filled with fury. “Wretched little pretender to a throne!”

“Frederik run!”

He did so, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Jakob. Jé Kinah slid inside the blacksmith and saw Xanthe shivering in the dark, the only light coming from the dying coals in the furnace.

“We must find the back door.” She ordered, gripping Xanthe’s sleeve.

“Where is Erik?”

Jé Kinah looked backwards as Frederik charged through the doors and slammed them shut. He went to slide the bolt into place when both doors were ripped open. Frederik gave a yell and was dragged backwards through the opening.

“Erik!” Xanthe screamed. Jé Kinah held her back and went to the doors when the enormous form of Jakob blocked out the light. In a flash she lowered her head and rammed her entire weight into him. Jakob roared and staggered backwards. Jé Kinah yanked the doors closed and slid the bolt in place just as the big man rammed against the doors. The wood groaned but the bolt held firm.

“Open these doors!”

“Never!” Jé Kinah yelled back.

“She-elf witch! I knew we couldn’t trust you! Come on lads! Break it down!”

Jakob had clearly been joined by the rest of the angry men and they threw their weight against the doors, the bolt screeching in protest and the wood splintering. Jé Kinah looked out through a dirty window. She could see Frederik being dragged away and cursed that she had not put an arrow through Jakob’s heart when she had the chance.

“Where is the local authority?” Xanthe cried. “They must stop what is happening!”

“They are likely to be one of the drunkards who have joined the cause.” The men were incensed beyond reasoning. Any intention they had of not harming the man who could restore their kingdom had been lost in their rage. Jé Kinah saw one of the men strike Frederik and her mouth turned down into a reptilian snarl.

“Erik!” Xanthe whimpered. “No!”

“Put your backs into it! Tear this building apart!”

Jé Kinah’s hands clenched into fists, her fingernails becoming long, hard and jagged. Her eyes became pools of black tar and she felt fire burn deep in her belly. The world became bathed in red as her body began to crack and transform.

“We will kill the King if you do not come out!”

“I will not give you the chance…” Jé Kinah’s voice was so low it scraped across the bowels of the earth, full of brimstone and fire, power and death.

And then a cool hand touched her arm and she turned, her eyes clearing to see Xanthe standing beside her. “No more,” she whispered, “I will run no more.”

Jé Kinah, only half comprehending, watched as Xanthe went to the doors and slid the bolt across. Jé Kinah tried to move but changing back was always harder than changing into and she moved like she was knee deep in honey. Xanthe pushed open the doors and in an instant she was snatched away.

“No!” Jé Kinah pushed out between her locked jaws, her pointed teeth finally receding.

Jakob’s form filled the space Xanthe had briefly stood in. His dark gaze glared at Jé Kinah with murderous intent. “You,” He snarled, his breath smelling of ale and decay, “aren’t leaving here alive.”

Jé Kinah’s movements were clumsy and slow so she couldn’t duck the plank coming towards her. The blow felt like it had hit a large bell that Jé Kinah was standing in the middle. It didn’t hurt initially but the clanging that echoed over and over in her head dropped her to her knees and she slumped onto the large cobblestones blanketed in soot.

She was aware of something hot flying over her head and then the doors banged shut but it all felt like it was leagues away. Black smoke began to billow around her and she forced herself to her hands and knees and looked up. The blacksmiths room was on fire. Not a small, contained fire but an out of control blaze! The doors had been barred shut and she couldn’t budge them. She probably could have torn the building into rubble had she transformed but even in a moment as desperate as this, she couldn’t wake the darkness that slept within her.

With a metal rod she smashed out a window and threw her satchel out then followed. Her eyes smarted and her gaze was blurry but she could see something happening in a paddock behind the blacksmiths. Stumbling she made her way to the tree line.

It was harvest season and there were several large piles of hay all over the paddock. The raging mob had nearly tripled in size and from somewhere they had found a long beam and pushed it into the pile of hay. Tied to the beam, on top of the hay, was Xanthe, her face filled with terror. Jé Kinah was astonished. Why wasn’t anyone questioning their tactics? Were they all truly prepared to kill a woman on the hearsay of strangers from another kingdom?

Jé Kinah spotted Frederik tied to a tree. He was struggling hard against the ropes and jumped when they simply slid from his arms.

“Hold.” Jé Kinah stopped him as she cut the rope that bound his ankles.

“I thought you were dead!” He gasped.

“I have a headache.” Jé Kinah muttered, annoyed that a human had managed to knock her out. Frederik stood up and rubbed his wrists.

“They’ve proclaimed Xanthe a demon and these people are very superstitious. They’ve sent men to get torches to light the hay. She’ll be burned alive!”

“I will create a distraction and you cut her down,” Jé Kinah handed Frederik her blade, “wait…they have proclaimed her a demon…why would anyone believe that?”

“They proved it using some kind of a device.”

“Was it a shell with water inside?”

“I couldn’t see. The big man, Jakob, was standing in the way.”

Jé Kinah stopped, her eyes going wide. “No wonder it never worked properly!” She exclaimed. Fortunately her cry was lost in the roar of the crowd. From her satchel she pulled out her original knives and slid them into her boots. “When the men are distracted, cut Xanthe down and get as far away as you can.”

“What about you?”

“I am going to single out the one who started all this.” Jé Kinah didn’t wait for him to agree. She dashed from his side into the crowd, slipping in and out of the incensed men who waved their fists and yelled ugly threats at the top of their lungs. On her knees she managed to find Lennart and pick pocketed the demon seeking shell device from him. The tiny fish was going wild inside but it was definitely pressing against the water away from Xanthe. Jé Kinah followed the fish’s direction, trying not to get trodden underfoot when two big feet barred her way. The little fish was in an absolute frenzy as Jé Kinah stood up and came face to face with Jakob. There was something wrong about the way he looked, like his skin was starting to sag on his skull. He glared at her, at the device she held.

Jé Kinah shook her head. “The demon tracking device worked perfectly. It locked onto a possessed human and pointed directly at it,” Jakob’s mouth curled in a snarl, “but you kept moving in the crowd and they never thought to suspect one of their own.”

“Not one human picked it up,” the Jakob puppet chuckled, “such stupid creatures after all.” Then he shuddered, his skin pale and blotchy.

“You have been gone far too long from your beloved ocean, sea witch.”

Jakob spat a gob of black bile onto the ground and it singed the grass. “I had great hopes of keeping my true identity a secret. Then we swam into you. An elf. Yet not even you figured it out. Maybe that is why your kind abandoned you when they left the earth. You were not pure enough.” Jé Kinah’s calm exterior did not give away how much the barb had hurt.

No one was watching them. They were in the middle of the mob yet they were paid no attention whatsoever. Their rage was all consuming and Jé Kinah could that men had arrived with torches. She had to turn the tide somehow.

“I knew you had to have a heart of ice to do what you have done,” Jé Kinah’s eyes narrowed, “but I never thought a mother would gleefully watch her daughter burn to death.”

Jakob’s jaw slackened and his skin rippled. With difficulty he, or rather she, pulled herself together. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because all you ever wanted was Xanthe’s voice and you had it. Whether Xanthe found true love or turned into foam, you needed to do nothing more. But you realised the prince was falling in love with her and, upon seeing her again after all those years apart, you wanted your daughter by your side when you rose to power in the ocean once more. You became Princess Ann in order to goad Xanthe into killing the prince so she could become a mermaid again. But you used her voice because yours was gone and when it was taken from you, you lost your form…and any tenderness you had towards your daughter.”

“She would give up her life in the ocean, a life that far outstretches anything these fickle creatures on earth live, for one of their own. A man who betrayed her love the moment I arrived!” Jakob wobbled on his feet. The sea witch couldn’t maintain her control over his body for much longer.

“And that is enough of a reason to watch her burn now?”

“And take my voice from the ashes!”

“Let me go!”

Jé Kinah spun around to see Georg and Lennart dragging Frederik away from the hay stack. To his credit he was fighting like a madman but he couldn’t break free. Then suddenly she was flying through the air, landed hard and rolled several times over on the grass, away from the main crowd. Out of the crowd came Jakob. No…it wasn’t Jakob. Whatever had been wearing him was shrugging their way out of his body like someone would remove their clothes. And underneath was the sea witch.

No doubt she had been a great beauty like her daughter but there was little left to compare the two. The sea witch’s skin was cracked and peeling, her fingernails were black and long and her hair was rising up on her head, sea snakes hissing wildly. Her eyes were alight with green fire. Her lips had been stitched together but she pulled against the stitches to give a hint of jagged teeth and a black tongue. Despite the fact that she didn’t have legs she was fast on the ground and came at Jé Kinah like a charging bull.

The she-elf dived out of the way in time and felt the slide of snakes past her skin. One of them bit hard in her shoulder. Jé Kinah swore and pulled out her knives. The sea witch turned on her. She may have been mute now, losing the use of Jakob’s voice when she shed his body, but her intention was perfectly clear. She charged, pushing all her weight onto her arms and flung her tail around, striking her hard. Jé Kinah was thrown towards the hay stack, her knives flying off in unknown directions. She twisted on the ground and saw Xanthe’s terrified face as the torches came down towards the hay, sparks flying into the dry straw.

“Sing Xanthe!”

Xanthe found her face, her eyes wild with fear and confusion.

“Use your voice and…urgh!” Jé Kinah had taken her eyes off the witch who had barrelled her to the ground and was laying into her with all her might. Through the punches Jé Kinah yelled again. “Sing!”

She blocked as many blows as she could, feeling the snakes snap at her, trying to get in between the flailing fists. Finally she brought her head up and cracked the sea witch hard. She fell back. Jé Kinah leapt to her feet and ran to where she could see a glimmer in the grass. It was one of her knives. She had only just grabbed it when the sea witch was upon her, a wild, silent beast.

And then the most beautiful sound Jé Kinah had ever heard filled the air.

“In all my travels I heard not a word,

But that which was already spoken.

There’s not a tale nor a rhyme

That has not had its time

About true love that cannot be broken.”

The fact that a girl who was about to be executed was singing arrested everyone’s attention to begin with. And as she continued to sing atop her perilous stage, the exquisite tone of her voice was like a calming balm to the mob’s previously uncontrollable rage.

“Whether you are a prince or the pauper’s son,

Or a maid as fair as the moon

True love beckons all

Whether you’re young or you’re old

True love will come to you soon.”

It wasn’t a particularly brilliant verse and there was no doubt Xanthe was under some strain to keep the momentum going but then the men started to clap or stamp their feet and some began to do a controlled jig, their torches and pitchforks falling aside

“If deep down inside, your courage you hide

And love has since past you by

You must understand

Merely hold out your hand

I will love you until I die.”

Suddenly all the men were singing it.

“You must understand

Merely hold out your hand

I will love you until I die.”

The urge to sing was incredibly strong but the urge to stay alive was even stronger. Jé Kinah could see that the sea witch was tiring and was determined to keep ahead of her when the poison in her body began to take effect. She felt sick and her sprint became a drunken stumble. The witch grabbed her ankle with a piercing grip and Jé Kinah fell to the ground. She rolled over just in time to see the witch clambering up her body, ready for the kill, her hands stretched out for her throat.

“You gave me a choice, my legs for my voice

I did not hesitate to sign on the line

But look at me here

I’m a prisoner of fear

And I think that it’s perhaps my time.”

The sea witch looked up, the words dragging her eyes upwards to look at Xanthe singing to her.

“Please let them go, they’re not evil you know

Just please, let them all live

If you want my voice,

It’s always been my choice

I ask only that you forgive.”

With that Xanthe pulled one hand free from the ropes, tore the shell from her neck and threw it down to the sea witch who caught it deftly.

“Fire!” One of the men yelled. “Fire!”

Jé Kinah and the sea witch got up just as a warm breeze hit the embers that had been gently smouldering until this moment and in the blink of an eye they were a ferocious blaze. Frederik, who had been captivated by the singing like all the others, wrenched himself free of their dancing arm lock. He tried to clamber up but the fire had already spread the entire way around and Xanthe was high out of his reach and she was starting to disappear into the black smoke.

“Xanthe!” Frederik cried. “Jé Kinah! What do I do?”

The men were running in all directions screaming for buckets of water but by the time they returned Xanthe would be dead. Jé Kinah looked at the sea witch who was staring in astonishment up at the inferno, the shell necklace clutched in her bony, dry hands.

“You have to do something!”

“She just gave it to me,” she whispered without using her lips as she used Xanthe’s voice which came from the shell, “she just…gave it to me.”

“She is your daughter!”

The sea witch looked at Jé Kinah like she had never seen her before and something flickered in her eyes, as if her soul had suddenly woken. Lightning fast she lashed out and ripped Jé Kinah’s knife from her grasp. Before the she-elf could react the witch raked the blade across the stitches, releasing her mouth from its prison. She pushed Jé Kinah back and took a deep breath, then another and another until she was quite literally bulging…and then hissed. And out of her mouth came litres and litres of salt water, drenching Xanthe, the flames and the hay. The flames sizzled and screamed their protest, steam billowing out in all directions. The spray was like nothing Jé Kinah had ever seen before and when it was over, everything was soaked. Frederik clambered up the hay stack and cut Xanthe’s bonds. She slumped into his arms and he laid her on the soggy ground.

“Xanthe? Xanthe?” She coughed and spluttered and he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank God. Oh thank God.”

Jé Kinah looked down at the sea witch who had slumped to the ground, wrung out like a rag. Sea water trickled from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Once she had released it, she couldn’t stop it and she was quickly fading away.

“Is she…alive?”

“Xanthe lives.”

The sea witch nodded, her eyes fluttering and becoming pale. “Give her this…” She pressed the shell into Jé Kinah’s hands. Jé Kinah held both of their hands around the shell. “Tell her I’m sorry…” And with that she simply melted into the grass and all that remained were a few pearlescent scales.

Xanthe heard the explanation of what had happened with quiet reflection. Jé Kinah finished her tale and waited for questions she thought would undoubtedly erupt out of Xanthe. The little mermaid didn’t say a word. After a long pause Jé Kinah climbed over onto the seat of the small cart to sit alongside Frederik who held the reins of the little dappled horse that pulled the cart along.

“How did she take it?” Frederik whispered.

Jé Kinah shrugged. They fell into silence and the pony trotted on. It had been easy to disappear into the night as the town crumbled into chaos. At the next town they had bought the horse and cart from a farmer for far more than it was worth. But it was worth their lives to get as far away as possible. The demon hating mob had fled for their lives, probably all the way back to their fishing home by the sea. As for those who remained in the town, once the anger and the hatred had dissipated, natural order quickly followed. Many questions would be asked, questions Jé Kinah and Frederik were not sure they could answer.

They had put Xanthe in the cart, bundled up in rugs so she could sleep off the trauma and never looked back. She had suffered minor burns on her arms and legs. Jé Kinah had done what she could to alleviate the pain and treat the blistered skin. She might bear some scars but the inescapable truth was...it could have been much, much worse. The danger was now well behind them. They were travelling through the rolling hill country of Emperor Ferdinand, not far from the capital and safety.

“Are you sure the Emperor will look after you?” Jé Kinah asked.

“At the funeral of my father he said that if I needed anything that I should not hesitate to ask.”

“Do you think he will be lenient upon your situation? Or will he try to enforce your rule once more?”

“To be honest I do not think I have the heart to be king anymore. And without Xanthe,” he shook his head, “life would be unbearable. If not being king is what it takes to make this true love work...then I give it up freely.”

“Where will you go?”

“I honestly do not know,” Frederik looked around at the fresh, clean countryside, “I could try my hand at farming. Or woodcutting. I’ve always fancied myself a woodcutter…that is…if I am not imprisoned for my crimes.”

“I wish I could help. I wish I had the answers.” Jé Kinah sighed.

“Do not worry about us. We were blessed with finding our true love but it turns out that our happily ever after will take some work to keep alive.”

“It is a sad state when a happily ever after is taken for granted.” Jé Kinah said gently. “Just because you are blessed enough to fall in love does not mean you cannot fall out of love. A happily ever after does not mean there are no problems. It means you love your way through them. You can endure challenges and still live happily ever after. And I believe you will.”

“Jé Kinah.” The she-elf twisted in her seat to look down at Xanthe. Sunlight through the leaves struck her beautiful hair so that it constantly changed hues from red, to crimson, to gold and then back to red again. Her eyes were as wide and as pale as could be. “Are you sure?”

“About your happily ever after?”

“About my mother.”

“Yes.”

“But father said…”

“You said your father was king over the Nesoi? If I know my Greek at all, the Nesoi were not gods, but goddesses. Mermaids. When your father married your mother, she brought her domain under his but he could never be sure that she would not use her voice to mount a revolution. You saw for yourself how your voice is a powerful influence. It could be that your father wanted to take her voice all along but he could hardly keep it for himself. When he said, you have your mother’s voice, he was speaking literally.”

“And she just wanted it back?”

Jé Kinah paused. “Perhaps that is all she wanted in the beginning but betrayal became frustration, frustration became anger and anger, if it is not dealt with, becomes bitterness and it flowed through her veins and poisoned her soul. She was the sea witch. She was willing to use your love to get her voice back but meeting you made her remember how much she loved you.”

“So she broke my heart by pretending to be Princess Ann?”

“I suspect she took on the shape of the girl who was thought to have rescued the prince, the name of the princess Frederik’s father wanted him to marry and her voice did the rest. That way you would be forced to kill the prince and return to the ocean to be with your mother.”

“But I did not.”

“And that spark of love was snuffed out. The love she had soured into hate and she turned on you. Then the kingdom was in a state of civil war so she poured herself into Jakob, who already suspected you were not who you claimed to be, and used him to try and get to you and your voice.”

Xanthe shivered in spite of the warm sunshine. “She was evil.”

“But in the end she was your mother and her sacrifice saved your life.” Jé Kinah felt a wave of sorrow wash over her and swallowed. “My mother died of grief many, many years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Jé Kinah blinked back the tear in her eye. “Learn the lesson of your mother. Do not let sorrow be your master.”

“Is it sorrow or guilt or love that drives you?”

Jé Kinah pressed her lips together. Xanthe’s ocean green eyes watched her expression carefully.

“A little of each,” she touched the vial, “but perhaps a little more of love than the rest.”

Xanthe did the same with the shell around her neck and the two women shared a moment of understanding.

“We have arrived.” Frederik drew the horse and cart to a halt. All three turned their heads towards the city they could see sprawling in the shallow valley before them.

“You will be safe now.” Jé Kinah leapt nimbly down and took up her satchel.

“You will come no further?” Frederik asked as Xanthe climbed up beside him.

“I will not, if may be so bold. I do not like cities,” she slung her satchel on her back, “but I wish you well. You can have a good happily ever after, or you can have the best. It is up to you.”

“We will work at it,” Frederik took Xanthe’s hand and she smiled at him with eyes full of wonder, “together.”

Jé Kinah bowed to them and watched as Frederik flicked the reins and they headed down onto the main roads. She watched until she saw them disappear into the outskirts of the city then took a deep breath.

“There are a few good hours of sunlight left in the day,” she remarked, “I think I shall chase the sun for a bit.”