Willow knew that she should have felt pity. Although she was a sorceress, she was a good, benevolent, humanitarian sorceress. And she would’ve felt pity if it had been anyone else. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Horace, the disturbing pixie that had been leaking the Trinon’s secrets to the rebels for fairy dust for many years.


So she stood there and looked at his blackened carcass, thinking only of how much burning pixie smelled like pine. The guards around her covered their noses, unable to bear the overpowering stench of fairy dust that slowly wafted up from the burning corpse.


But fairy dust did nothing to Willow. She was impervious and that’s why she had caught him. Some of the guards vomited on seeing the charred remains of the otherworlder, but she merely flinched. She reminded herself that he had deserved that kind of death. He had earned it through years of treason.


She walked to the dying embers of the pyre and checked to see that there was nothing but ash. Satisfied that Horace would never come back to haunt her, she walked back and beckoned for the guards to follow.


As she mounted her horse, a black mare, one of the guards called out to her.


“Lady, I don’t think it is safe to travel now.”


She looked around and noticed why. The sun was setting, beaming across the sky streaks of pink and purple. The greens of the forest’s trees were slowly reducing to nothing but shadows. She nodded her consent to set up camp, and slowly dismounted her horse.


They led their horses far away from where Horace’s ashes remained. The men set up camp while she pored over her spellbook. All her guards were used to her silent nature and let her well alone, knowing that any disturbance would result in punishment.


She helped with dinner and they sat around the campfire, reminding her of her childhood in the forest. She chided herself for entertaining thoughts of the past. Thinking of those star-filled nights and her mother’s warm embrace would bring heart ache, but it wouldn’t bring her family back. Nothing could bring them back.


Her face betrayed her thoughts, and she found her guards looking at her with curiosity. She assumed an emotionless expression, covering up her nostalgia well. She stared at the campfire, trying to forget her past and think only of the red and orange that danced before her.


***


The party reached the castle the next day at noon, sweaty, tired and hungry. The king greeted them at the main gate and invited them in. They needed no invitation. Without them the castle would’ve become a heap of rubble and stones years before. But Willow and her guards accepted graciously and entered the castle.


The king was a large man, short in stature but his ego’s size was matched by none. King Julius was a kind man and fair in most cases, but in Willow’s eyes he was the biggest dolt the planet had ever seen. He loved frivolities and ordered for them to attend a banquet when some of the men needed to go to the infirmary.


They had to obey him. He was the king and more importantly, he paid them. Forgetting their fatigue or trying to, and adjusting their dirt-stained clothing, they entered into the grand dining hall. It was filled to the brim except for the eleven seats that always stayed reserved for them.


Willow grudgingly took her seat next to Princess Blanche, the perfect figure for all nobility to emulate. There were about a dozen girls that were Willow’s age at the table. Of them, the princess was the one with the longest and most golden hair, the shiniest silk dress and the most artificial smile.


Burning corpses and the stench of fairy dust didn’t do a thing to Willow. But the sight of Princess Blanche smiling and chewing at the same time made her stomach churn. She looked down and saw the contrast between her and the princess.


Princess Blanche was decked out in a peach silk and satin dress and wore cloth slippers. Willow wore a loose peasant shirt over trousers and muddy knee-high boots. Princess Blanche had her golden tresses curled and styled in the latest fashion, while Willow kept her long black hair in a single plait. The princess’s light brown eyes were lined with black kohl to make them to look bigger, while Willow’s green eyes had dark lines around them from fatigue and sleeplessness.


Willow knew King Julius’s idiotic thinking. He reasoned that his daughter would look better in contrast to the hardworking mage that was forever covered in bruises, sweat and dirt. The princess didn’t follow her father’s line of thought. She couldn’t follow her father’s line of thought because she had the attention span of a hamster. She constantly nudged Willow and tried to get anger her.


“You smell like fairy dust.”


“Thank you.” Willow replied.


Wrinkling her powdered nose, Blanche pretended to lose her appetite. Willow kept on eating, already used to the royal thorn in her side. Finally lunch was over and they returned to get rest. Willow changed into a cotton dress before heading down to the dungeon.


The dungeon of the castle had windows and a fresh breeze always blew through the mostly empty cells. The castle was built on the top of Mount Kairon, giving it both safety and a view of the entire kingdom.


The dungeon walls were as most would expect them to be, made of stones and dismally boring. But the sunlight that shined upon everything made the atmosphere a bit brighter. She walked towards the iron trunk in the corner of the room and withdrew her weapons. The armor dress made of white silk stayed in the trunk.


Her sword was the first in her hands, thirsting for blood as it always did. Next was her bow, whose string vibrated at her touch. She practiced first with her sword, going through all the movements that her father had taught her.


For most people the dungeons were a prison, empty as it was. But for Willow it was one escape from the bindings of being a mage and a way to remember her mother. It was refreshing to do something that didn’t involve magic. But the king would have a stroke if he found out.


She practiced for an hour and then locked the weapons back inside the trunk. It was unnecessary, the weapons only obeyed her. They were useless in the hands of anyone else. Grudgingly she returned to her quarters in one of the large towers of the castle.


She hated her quarters, only entering when she wanted to sleep. The heavy curtains and small windows made the rooms eternally dark and foreboding. The rooms were sparsely furnished and often during the days she would hear the sounds of her neighbors, her guards.


She went to sleep and thought it quite queer that a silence was prevalent over the entire castle. It reminded her of the calm before a storm. Pushing her thoughts aside she gave in to slumber.


***



Willow woke up at dawn as she usually did. It wasn’t the crowing of the cook’s rooster that woke her, nor the clanging of buckets as maids scurried to clean the hallways before the castle’s occupants rose. It was the sound of hooves and wheels. Someone was coming towards the castle. The whole valley had yet to wake up from their sleep and in the stillness of the morning the sounds of the arriving party carried long and clear through the silent air.


She walked over and opened the curtains, looking through her miniscule window. In the distance she saw the arriving party. Several coaches, dozens of horsemen and the metallic glint of knights’ armor were what reached her eyes. It would take them an hour to navigate the entire party through the winding sloping road that led to the castle.


She put on a light gown quickly knowing that the peace of the morning wouldn’t last for long. Soon the castle would be filled with frantic staff that seemed to be everywhere and dirty travelers that just wouldn’t be satisfied. And the king would be in his element, showing her and her guards off to anyone who managed to glance at them.


By the time she entered the hallway, she saw that staff was preparing for the visitors. Each of the maids pounced on any speck of dirt like a wolf on a rabbit. Agnes Delarou came into the hall just then. Agnes was a young maid in the castle, and Willow’s only friend and confidante. With hair that was a beautiful dark red and hazel eyes set in a pale heart-shaped face, she was the favorite of all the guards in her group.


Agnes pushed Willow back into her room. She said, “The royalty of Almyra are coming to visit!”


“So that’s what the ruckus is all about.”


Agnes gaped at her, and said, “You mean you aren’t excited? Their prince, Ronald or Reynard or something, he might marry the princess. And then we would be rid of her, forever!”


Willow scratched her chin, thinking. She would try her best to make Ronald or Reynard or something fall for Blanche. It would be difficult, but it would provide a lot of peace to life. Not only hers but the whole kingdom’s. Agnes was tidying up her room almost unconsciously when Willow cleared her throat.


Willow announced, “Aggie, get ready to start on Plan prince-weds-Blanche.”


Aggie clapped her hands together like a little girl and grinned in a way that obscured most things on her face except her teeth. Willow headed downstairs to the main gate where the travelers were so close the dust that their horses churned up hit against her face. The first to enter were two horsemen, armed and suspicious of all the welcoming people.


Next came three coaches. Out of the first the king and queen stepped down gracefully. The king was a tall and somber looking man, with black hair and a pale face. The queen was very skinny and looked as fragile as antique tea cup, but she was beautiful with her light peach colored skin. The second contained the gossipy ladies-in-waiting. A jumble of young men poured out of the third. King Julius went over to the visiting king and bowed lightly.


“It is a pleasure to see you again Vernon.” Julius said.


“The same, Julius.”


“So where is your son?”


“He left the party an hour again to ride in the woods,” King Vernon answered. “My son is quite the horseman.”



Willow paled. An otherworlder was in the forest and she’d planned to kill it that very day. She silently walked up to the king and curtsied. The queen looked at her with interest, thinking her to be the princess.


Willow whispered into King Julius’s ear, “There’s an otherworlder in the forest, sir. We were to kill it today.”


King Julius, in the way that most pudgy men do when they’re nervous, started to sweat profusely. The visiting royalty seemed amused and intrigued. King Vernon raised his eyebrow, silently asking the question “Is your king having a stroke?”


Willow spoke out frankly, “Sir there is a dangerous otherworlder in that forest. We planned to kill her today. We didn’t anticipate that any of you would venture into the castle after your long journey.”


The king’s pale face went to a deathly shade of gray. The queen’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. King Vernon asked, “Well what do you propose to do?”


“Where did he leave your party?”


“At the foot of the mountain, about an hour ago,” he said. “Is he going to be alright?”


“Most likely yes. The forest is immense and if he has stayed near the road he should be safe. My men and I will leave now to fetch him.”


Willow sent Agnes to the tower to fetch her guards and headed down to the dungeon. There was a griffin on the loose. Mere magic wouldn’t do the trick. She outfitted herself with her weapons before rushing into the stables. Her black mare was resting from the day before and in her hurry she mounted a warhorse.


As she headed down the winding dirt road down the mountain, she saw her guards behind her. Not waiting, she led her horse into the forest. She realized that she didn’t know the prince’s name.


How many princes can there be in this forest? She thought.


She called, “Prince!! Princey!! Your Royal Highness!!! Where are you?”


I sound like some lovesick damsel in distress. But I don’t know his name.


There was no reply. But she spotted hoof prints and followed them. They led deeper and deeper into the woods. Finally Willow heard the sound of voices. Mostly male, but she heard the shrill shrieking laugh of a woman in between. It was something worse than she had thought. She dismounted her horse and withdrew her bow and strung it. From behind the thick undergrowth she spotted the group.


A siren sat in the center of the group of rugged looking men. She was beautiful without a doubt. Her mahogany skin and long dark hair added an exotic effect to her clear amber eyes. The griffin that they had received word of was tied to a nearby tree with a thick metal chain. The men were all looking at the siren entranced as she spoke. Willow noticed a chestnut colored stallion next to the group, and among the uncombed heads of hair she saw one wearing a slight gold circlet. It was Ronald or Reynard or something.


“Oh, it was so boring in otherworld. First place I ventured out to when I came here was the sea. It is a horrible place. Sitting on rocks in the middle of the ocean, singing to no one. And sailors are so disgusting, not like you fellas,” she chirped, winking at them. The men grinned at the compliment.


The griffin was frantically trying to escape from its captive condition. It yearned for freedom from the siren who bound it to the earth when it was meant for the sky. Willow saw the griffin’s plight and silently snuck over to the other side of the clearing. The griffin was harmless compared to the siren. It was better to let it go than kill it.


The siren was involved in her story, and the men were too entranced by her magical charm to care for anything else. Willow silently walked up to the tree that the griffin was tied to, hiding from sight in the darkness the forest provided. She clicked her tongue and the griffin heard.


It slowly came up to the tree. Willow kept her hand on her sword’s hilt and cautiously stepped back.


“I can set you free. But you have to help me free one of them.”


The griffin bobbed its head, in what Willow hoped was understanding. The gesture could have also stood for “You will be my next meal.”


She decided she would take the risk. She unsheathed her sword and brought it down onto the metal chain with both hands. The griffin flapped its wings lightly and then settled down. It would help her. Willow sheathed her sword and entered into the clearing.


The siren was the first to spot her and looked in her direction. Her smiling face turned ugly. The men followed her gaze and all stared at Willow.


“An interrupter. I don’t like interrupters. What shall I do?” she asked in a singsong voice. “Take care of her for me, will you?”


Willow cursed that sirens hated competition from females of any species. The men rose up. She saw a lot of axes and the prince withdrew one of those cursed pointed rapiers. They all headed towards her at the same time. The griffin chose that moment to come out and knock down half the men that were standing using only its sheer weight.

The prince aimed the point of his rapier at her and ran towards her at full speed. She dodged, swinging to the side at the last possible minute and then shoved the hilt of her sword into the prince’s stomach. He lost his breath and fell to the ground. The siren looked furious and she screamed for the men to get up. Willow’s sword slashed across several of the hypnotized men, making sure that she didn’t kill them. She ran past them to the siren who was about to get up.


Willow reached the siren before she had a chance to run, and chanting in her mind, she raised her sword. The siren’s scream was cut short by her head being sliced in half vertically by the enchanted blade.


Her sword was embedded in siren flesh and she pulled it out, using her foot to keep the siren’s corpse from being pulled along. She wiped the blood off on the siren’s flimsy rags and headed over to the prince who still lay on the ground.


“Your highness? Are you alright?” Willow asked.


The griffin had walked over and was nuzzling the back of Willow’s neck. She turned around and rubbed the top of its head. Willow heard a scream from the ground. The prince was screaming his head off and his eyes were like his emaciated mother’s. Not color, not shape, but the fact that they nearly detached from his face and swelled to the size of watermelons.


Willow plopped down and covered his mouth with both her hands. All around her the men were slowly coming to their senses. They huddled in a bunch, terrified by the giant golden griffin that formed a semicircle around Willow and the prince. Griffins were good at crowd control.


“Don’t worry. I’m here to take you back to the castle.” She explained. She removed her hands and he was quiet.


“Who are you?” he asked.


“I’m the official sorceress of Trinon,” Willow answered. As an afterthought she added, “Your highness.”


“Since when do sorceresses fight?”


Willow laughed nervously,
knowing there was no proper response. The prince tried to stand and stumbled. The griffin caught him by the back of his collar with its beak. Willow got her horse and helped the prince to mount his.


He was far more delicate than Willow would’ve guessed from King Vernon’s obvious pride. Although he was too proud to admit it, he had a stomach ache from her hitting him. Her guards met her at the edge of the forest, all of them surprised at the weapons she carried.



They reached the castle and Willow led the prince into the throne room where the king and queen of Almyra were preparing themselves for bad news. They were elated at the sight of the prince. King Vernon hugged him tightly, to which the prince groaned with pain.


“What happened to you, my son?” he asked.


Willow answered, “I had to hit in the stomach sire, to snap him out of the trance that the siren had put him in.”


“What exactly was the siren doing when you arrived, sorceress?”


Willow cringed at being addressed as what she was, not who. But she replied, “She was still in the process of entrancing them your highness. She was telling a story.”


“So you hurt my son in order to stop him listening to a story.”


“No sire. I hurt him in order to save him from becoming the siren’s next breakfast.”


King Vernon’s angry expression changed to one of shame. The queen however, looked ecstatic. She came over and hugged Willow.


“Thank you Miss Willow, you have saved our son.”


The queen continued with her looks of undying gratitude as she went over and checked Rowan for any other injuries. She smoothed down his hair and adjusted his crown and made an enormous fuss over him. He was a protected child. Willow couldn’t help but envy him. He was her age, but he had the time to be a child. He had his family. He had his mother.


She didn’t have anything. She’d been forced into losing her childhood fancies and wishful thoughts a long time before. And her mother, they’d been torn apart.


King Julius was looking daggers at Willow for hogging the attention that he felt Blanche deserved. Despite the fact that she wanted to ask for some type of monetary reward, Willow only replied, “I was only doing my duty your highness.”


The prince through this whole thing was unnaturally quiet. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Blanche’s grand entry into the room. Her eyes were swollen, a couple of hairs were out of order in her coif, and her nose looked red.


She curtsied deeply and raised her head slowly. Her concern was real, but it wasn’t for the prince. It was concern for almost losing the opportunity to become the queen of her kingdom. Blanche looked the prince up and down and seemed ecstatic at what she had discovered.


Willow finally took the time to observe the prince. She decided that he was definitely attractive. He had inherited his father’s height and black hair, but his mother’s pretty face and skin color. His eyes were hazel, and reminded her of the forest, with greens and browns and dots of golden light. At the moment he was looking off to somewhere distant, still thinking of the beautiful but dead siren.


He suddenly turned to her, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”


Blanche looked a bit disappointed at the lack of attention that her grieving act had received. Willow turned red as all the royalty looked at her in a synchronized motion. Blanche and King Julius stared daggers at her, and the royal family of Almyra seemed too interested to cause any good for her.


“My father taught me, your highness,” she lied.


“Your father must have been
an expert swordsman.”


Willow smiled sadly and answered, “No your highness. He was just a woodsman.”



King Julius interrupted, gripping the prince’s shoulder tightly. He proposed, “Why don’t we all go to the dining hall? You all must be tired after the little adventure. Especially you, Rowan.”


King Julius herded them all out of the room and into the dining hall. Rowan looked back at her with curiosity. King Julius gave her a dark look before engaging the other king in small talk. Blanche stuck to Rowan like parasite to host while he squirmed under the overeager attention.


And then the door slammed closed.

***


Back in the dungeon Willow packed up her trunk with her weapons and took it upstairs with Aggie’s help. Her secret was out, thanks to Almyra. Several of the staff looked at her with amusement, but they thankfully didn’t run into any of the royalty.


It was the day after Willow killed the siren and something was about to happen in the castle. Everyone sensed the impending danger, just by the way that Princess Blanche walked around looking smug and the way that King Julius had a perpetual fake smile on his face. The only ones impervious to the atmosphere were the visitors, who were without a care in the world.


The king ordered for a banquet and Willow knew she would be attending. She hated that although she was the strongest sorceress in the kingdom, her job required her to serve the purpose of a jester at every banquet and ball.


Willow walked into the banquet hall with hesitation. She thanked that at least she had been given warning. Agnes had outfitted her in one of her most beautiful gowns and she headed downstairs. For once she had abandoned her trusty plait and let Aggie pin up her hair in a bun that left a few locks of hair to frame her face.


She took her seat next to Blanche and looked down at her food. None of the nobles were invited. It was simply the royal family and the guests. Nonetheless the banquet hall was decked out in all its glory. King Julius fidgeted in his seat at one end of the table. In order to end the awkwardness of only the sounds of silverware against china, he initiated a conversation on the one topic Willow hoped he wouldn’t.


“So, Miss Willow, I was never aware that you were good with weapons as well as magic.”


Willow nearly choked on her wine, and coughed before replying, “I’m not that good sire. It was the trance that slowed down Prince Rowan’s reflexes. I was just far more lucid than he was.”


Lucid? I cannot believe I used that word. He definitely knows I’m lying.


But Julius was an idiot, and he didn’t realize it. Prince Rowan’s reflexes had actually been heightened by the trance, but Willow wasn’t about to tell anyone about her superhuman speed and strength. The prince sensed that she was lying, remembering the rush of energy that he had when he attacked her. He remained silent however, not wanting to cause harm.


King Vernon joined into the conversation, “But it is a good thing to teach a woman to fight. It develops character. Your father was a smart man.”


In her mind Willow was laughing hysterically at the thought. But she showed no expression on her face and only agreed, “Yes your majesty. He was.”


My father was a good natured man. But he was an innocent dolt. My mother, however…



The prince interrupted her thoughts with a question, “Where did you get them? Your weapons I mean. The hilt on the sword was beautifully carved.”


Willow was sick of lying but continued her charade, having no other choice, “I bought them after I started working for the castle, your highness. Some foreigner in the market was selling them, and I couldn’t resist.”


The truth was that she had made them with her mother. The hilt of the sword was made from dragon fang, while its blade was forged from the feather of an oldin, a giant metal-winged bird that could only be found in the otherworld. The bow’s string was from the mane of a unicorn, the bow itself was ivory, carved from the tusk of a narwhal.


Blanche shoved herself into the conversation, “Fascinating. Prince Rowan, our market is immense. You can find almost anything you could possibly want.”


Prince Rowan, “I must visit some day. Miss Willow, will you show me?”


Blanche’s cheeks reddened at being ignored so bluntly. Willow sensed the punishment that would come if Blanche’s mood didn’t change. She decided that it was time to initiate plan prince-weds-Blanche.


Willow laughed and said, “I just came upon the weapons by luck, your highness. Princess Blanche has grown up in this city. She can show you much more interesting things than I can.”


Rowan was disappointed. He wasn’t interested in the blonde mannequin, but everyone seemed to be leading him into a corner and throwing her at him like one threw rotten vegetables at a bad court jester. Willow just joined the group. His face immediately darkened.


Although Willow didn’t know why, she felt a bit of sadness at seeing him upset. She regretted her suggestion, but King Vernon saved her.


“Yes, let’s all make an outing of it. With Princess Blanche’s knowledge of the market and Miss Willow’s luck, I’m sure we’ll find many a treasure for Rowan,” he said. Turning to the queen, “What do you think, Alia?”


The queen nodded enthusiastically and even the prince seemed a bit happier. Willow only cursed at being dragged into the royal outing. King Julius seemed equally upset. She wished ardently for something to excuse her from the shopping spree.


The rest of dinner went by peacefully. Willow had a restful night of sleep, and woke up at dawn as always. She practiced with her weapons for an hour before heading downstairs to the dining hall. Seeing that no one was there, she ran into the kitchens. Aggie was helping her mother out. Aggie’s mother, Mrs. Delarou was the head cook at the castle.


“Hello, Mrs. Delarou. Um, I’m hungry.”


“I know. That’s why people usually come to the kitchens. Your eggs are on the table.”


Willow swallowed two servings and was satisfied. She reckoned she needed energy for the long day ahead. Mrs. Delarou handed her some tea before getting ready to serve the crowds of people that would soon flood into the dining hall.


Willow traveled to the stables and greeted her black mare, Astrid. The courtyard was mostly empty except for a few eager stable hands who were brushing down their favorite horses.


The morning was cold and the air was wet. A slight breeze started to blow and Willow looked up. She saw a black dot in the sky that circling around the castle and slowly descending. As it got lower she saw that it was the griffin from the day before.


It landed in the centre of the courtyard, its paws making a slight muffled thump against the stones. Willow wasn’t afraid. The creature had saved her life once already. She walked up to it doubtfully and rubbed its beak.


“Hello. It’s nice to see you again.”


The griffin didn’t move and stiffened. Willow turned around and saw what made the creature uncomfortable. Prince Rowan had just walked in and he had his rapier drawn. The griffin stretched out its wings and screeched loudly.


“Miss Willow, don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” he said. He beckoned for her to stand behind him.


Oh? Like you did the last time it was around me, she thought. He hesitantly walked towards her, and she could sense the griffin getting tense.


Willow’s aggravation finally got to her. He was supposed to fall in love with the blonde brainless princess, not follow after the sorceress like a tail. He was supposed to rid of her of a problem, not become one himself.


He was close to her, and one stab with his rapier would injure the griffin. The griffin was on the ground only because it trusted Willow. If it hadn’t Prince Rowan would’ve been a pile of flesh by then. Willow knew that, and her anger boiled over with that last final thought. He wasn’t just annoying her, he was annoying the griffin that had saved his life as well.


She snapped, “Get lost! You can’t and don’t need to save me from anything.”


What Willow didn’t realize was that Prince Rowan had come there to ask if she would come back to Almyra with him. He had come to tell her that he was smitten with her, and that she was beautiful and lots of other fanciful things. But when he first saw the griffin he thought that he could show her his bravery as well as do all those other things.


But the griffin was frightening, and Willow didn’t look or act the part of the damsel in distress. She didn’t even seem to like him. Rowan lost his courage. He lost his daring, his feeling of heroism, and fear set in. His brave show vanished to reveal a pitiful face.


He started to cry. It wasn’t a single tear that slid down his cheek and disappeared. It wasn’t something that could be applauded as a gentleman showing his sensitive side. He started to bawl and sob and there was enough salt water to submerge the valley beneath Mount Kairon. They were childish tears, and Willow tried to stop him. It was in complete vain.


He ran out of the courtyard and she could see him heading for his room. Willow turned back to the waiting griffin and sighed loudly. She felt regret that she had made him cry, but it had partly been his own fault. He was still a child, and she had no idea how to deal with children. The griffin turned towards his wing with emphasis. Willow walked over to it thinking his wing was injured.


The griffin motioned for her to sit on his back. She had never set eyes on an otherworlder that was benevolent before, and especially not a griffin. But it had saved her life. Willow hesitated for only a moment before lightly climbing on and wrapping her arms around the furry torso as best as she could. Little strands of her hair flittered around her face as the griffin’s wings started to flap and it took off.


She gasped as she saw the castle among the range of mountains. It was surreal and beautiful looking at the scene. The range of mountains surrounding one side of the green valley dotted with hints of civilization. Little threads of smoke were coming out from cottages that looked like toys her eyes. Intricate network of rivulets spread through the entire valley, only to join together as a single mammoth of a river that led to the sea through Almyra. They completed the landscape’s essence of fantasy.


“Oh,” she breathed out. The wind was in her face and the sun shined brightly. She was flying, and beneath her was the most beautiful place in the universe. She had never seen it that way before. Trinon had always been a prison for her, but when she was in the sky… only the word freedom came to her mind. Nothing else, but beauty and complete freedom.


Then Blanche had to ruin the perfect moment with one of her glass-shattering girlish screams. The griffin almost plummeted to the ground, and Willow hung onto him for dear life. He cartwheeled down until regaining his momentum again and circled above the castle.


Blanche was still screaming her head off and the rest of the royalty was next to her. She could see archers beginning to appear. She knew her fate if they continued to hover around. Death by flaming or poison-tipped arrows was a frightening thought.


“Griffin, we must descend into the courtyard.”


The griffin understood and began a quick descent. Willow started to yell out, “Stop! It’s only me!” continuously until the archers lowered their bows.


They landed in the courtyard loudly and Willow slid off the griffin. She ran over to King Vernon.


“Sire, this griffin helped me to save your son. He’s harmless,” she gasped out.


Then she realized that she had gone to the wrong king, the king whom she did not serve, the king that was just a visitor. Regretting her mistake she turned to King Julius who could have been compared to a tomato at that time. His entire head seemed to have grown twice as big and thrice as red.


She curtsied, “Forgive me your majesty. I was simply frightened out of my propriety.”


King Julius shook with anger, much like a kettle’s top when the water is boiling. Willow was still bent in her curtsy, waiting for some sign that she could get up.


In a voice that wasn’t
quite like his usual tone, King Julius ordered, “Stand up straight.”


Willow stood up relieved. That feeling only lasted until Blanche slapped her across the face. Willow’s hand instinctively went to her stinging cheek. She hadn’t expected it at all.


Blanche went on an unstoppable tirade, “We hired you to kill monsters, not raise them. You… mutt! Can you not understand that much? This is a kingdom for humans, not otherworlders. This is a kingdom where servants like you do not get away with disrespecting the king.”


Blanche continued her tirade, and Willow decided that she finally had enough. Three years of servitude, of restless toil about the next thing that would threaten their oh-so precious forest. And in return she got slapped across the face by a pompous brat who thought she was the human reincarnation of Aphrodite. She had had enough.


King Julius did not stop Blanche. King Vernon did not stop her. The queen did not stop her. She continued her harangue until the griffin walked over to her and screeched into her face. Blanche’s face truly matched her name. Her loud yelling turned into mumbles and whispers and she stepped back behind her father.


The griffin stepped behind Willow, showing that he was protecting her. The prince came into the courtyard just then. His eyes were dry and red, his face was sunken in, and his hair was askew. Willow stole a glance at him before turning back to Blanche.


“So, your royal highness, you think I did something wrong.” Willow said. Throughout the entire thing she had remained silent. It was just to cover up her real emotion. Anger. Anger that had built up over three years and finally had the opportunity to show itself. Anger that needed to be stopped, but wasn’t stopped.


She grabbed Blanche’s throat and squeezed until her nails almost dug into the frail white skin. She let go with a jerk and stepped back, leaning against the griffin’s side for support. Willow turned towards King Julius with a blank expression on her face.


“You’re not humans. Humans have souls. I can no longer be of service to you Julius.”


He balked at being addressed by only his name. But it wasn’t as if he could do anything. She no longer served Trinon. Before even one of the archer’s arrows got to her she could kill them all with a word. He couldn’t do anything to her. She was finally free.


Willow didn’t wait for a response from the king. She merely got back onto the griffin and held on. The griffin took her away from all the chaos that resided in that castle. She remembered her things and tapped strongly on the griffin shoulders, trying to get him to go to the tower where her room was.


She knew the griffin understood. He was an intelligent creature and led her to the very top of the tower and landed. She climbed off and opened the hatch that led inside to the rooms. It took her ten minutes to shove her weapons, her spellbook and the clothes she needed into a bag. It was fifteen minutes before she reached the tower again. The griffin was waiting for her patiently.


She slung her bag over her neck and took a seat on her steed. The griffin soared high out of the reach of any archer and flew until the castle was no longer in sight. He landed in the centre of the forest. The sylvan surroundings calmed her down and she sat down in the grass.


“Everything is gone,” she said to herself. Freedom had a price, and for her it meant a home to come back to and the stability of having a job and a title.


“Not everything, and not anything of much value,” a deep voice said.


Willow swiveled around quickly and saw the source, the griffin. Her mouth dropped open without her own realization.


“You can speak?”


The griffin seemed offended. He haughtily replied, “Of course I can speak. I just didn’t have a need to until now.”


Willow just sighed and wallowed in self pity while occasionally pondering over her future. If she went back King Julius would want her back, but Blanche would never allow into the castle. Almyra wouldn’t accept her, not after she had screeched at the future king. She looked towards the griffin.


Willow asked, “What do think I should do now?”


The griffin said, “It’s your future, so I can’t decide what you should do.”


Willow sighed and muttered, “I wish I didn’t always have to choose.”


Something occurred to her.

She looked up and asked, “Why did you come to the castle this morning? Wait a minute, how did you know that I lived in the castle?”


The griffin tried to fly but Willow’s knowledge with her weapons came to use. She withdrew her sword and raised it above her head, prepared to throw it like a spear.


Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, and she warned, “Do not tempt me, griffin. I want answers, and I want them now.”


The griffin sat down. He turned his head towards the castle, avoiding her face on purpose. He nervously said, “I was ordered to get you away from the castle, and to take you to the Riveria.”