The Autumn Prince

Part One: Choices

"I have come to see the Fool," announced the woman. If she felt any fear, it was masked behind a solemn, even haughty, nobility.

The girl cocked her head and starlight twinkled in her large, emerald eyes. "An assassin comes to this place, on this night? Are you here as a challenger for the title?" Hints of mocking laughter echoed from shadows between the trees. The woman ignored the insult and took a step forward. More crashing broke from the woods followed by heavy, padded footfalls, but this time, instinct told her to face it. A huge barghest—which some called a dire wolf and others a hellhound—bounded into the glade. It slid to a stop on fallen leaves as the little girl put up her hand.

"Wait, Galgo," she purred. "Let us hear what the Morrigan has to say. You may play with your meal once she has properly entertained the rest of us."

The woman turned again and spread her arms, palms forward, in a gesture of peace. "I am not here on behalf of the court. I seek asylum."

That brought a fit of quick laughter from the girl, a musical, playful sound. "I grant you a well-earned victory! You have sought and won the crown, O' Queen of Fools, and I am humbled before your most estimable majesty!" Then her eyes went wide and with a gasp, she leaned forward, palms flat against the broad back of the elk. "Does that now make me the supplicant? Oh, dear, this has become confusing." A chorus of muted cackles echoed from their audience.

The woman's patience neared its limit. "Do not trifle with me, forest child. Summon your master!"

The chorus of laughter died as the girl's taunt ended. Resting her elbows on the great beast, she tucked her chin into her hands and replied with a teasing smile, "I have no master."

A rare moment of confusion darkened the woman's features while she looked quickly around, seeking answers from the night. "You?"

The girl inclined her head almost imperceptibly in affirmation. "What brings you so recklessly to this of all places? I am curious to hear what method of insanity could court a demon to its death."

The pale woman scoffed. "I am no more a demon than you are a child. Your reputation suggests something . . . I would say, greater. If the Queen knew what you were, she would—"

"She would do little she has not already tried," the girl cut across her sharply. "I do not fear her. The true king may have died long ago, but I serve him still. What do you want, Left Hand?"

"I bear that title no longer. Mab seeks my head."

The news brought more laughter from the girl. "Oh, dear spirits, why do you torment me? Shall I mourn for you, slayer? May the Queen of Ice find your skull a suitable ornament for her mantle." When the woman failed to give a response, the girl spoke again. "Why do you come? Tell me truthfully."

"I have a son."

At her words, the wood fell into a grave silence. The girl's smile faded and she became suddenly, coldly sober. "You lie," she hissed.

"He is named Drustan ap Cionaodh. His father is a good, kind man, and both their lives are forfeit if they are discovered. Please, if you refuse help for my sake, then I ask for them."

"You come to me with a 'please'? What can you possibly need that I can provide?"

"Trickery and deceit. You have hidden many from the courts, but I have no talent for such subterfuge."

The little red-haired girl barked a humorless laugh but said nothing. They locked eyes, neither turning away though moments dragged on.

"How can I trust you?" the girl asked finally. It was not an unexpected question.