Fairy Godmother

whisper a complaint that it had been too long since breakfast. And that made her offer — though not without trepidation, since she wasn't sure they had enough food to feed a giant — 'Look, we're here! Would you care to stay for supper?'

Titch laughed. 'Ah, no, thankee, Godmother. I'll be taking my ram and be on my way. The wee wife'll be in a taking if I spoil her meal by coming home late!'

And it appeared that Titch was no stranger to the cottage, for once he'd set Elena down at her door and the House-Elves came out to see who was there, there was a round of friendly greetings and banter before Alexander was put down in the stable with strong charms about him to keep him from running away. Then Titch collected his ram, tucked it under his arm, and was off, striding away under the stars.

'So,' Lily said, hands on hips, looking at the ass, who was still shaking. The lantern in the stable shone down on him, and she had to admit that he made a very good ass; strong, well-muscled. 'What's the tale behind this one?'

Elena told her, and Lily raised her eyebrows. 'Well,' she said judiciously, 'I hope you know what you're getting into.'

I don't, actually, she thought, but she wasn't going to admit that. 'It's within The Tradition,' she pointed out. 'Oh, I know, it's a little grey to haul him home with me and make him work for a while, but I could hardly have left him out in the forest. He'd probably have gotten eaten by something. And it's not as if I've put some impossible conditions for him to meet on his state.'

'Hmm,' Lily replied, as they walked back towards the house. 'That wasn't what I was thinking. I'm more thinking what's going to happen when you give him his days as a man. You'll have to do that, you know.'

She nodded; she'd given thought to that herself. Only the most powerful of Sorcerers and Sorceresses — good or evil — could do a transformation on someone without the risk that the person transformed would lose himself in the creature. For anyone else, there was the need to allow the person time as himself, in human form, on a regular basis. 'I'll have him hedged around, believe me,' she replied as they stepped into the warm, fragrant kitchen. 'He won't be able to even think about violence, or about running off — '

'That wasn't what I meant — ah, never mind,' Lily replied, somewhat to Elena's puzzlement. 'We'll see what happens the first time he gets his day as a man.'

'And in the meanwhile, we have an ass again,' Robin said with great satisfaction. 'Poor Dobbin was so old I was afraid to work him as much as we needed. I have plans for a great gathering of firewood tomorrow.'

And Elena hid her smile behind a spoonful of soup. Tonight, the Prince of the Blood would be eating dry hay and drinking water. His only companions would be three cows. And in the morning, he would find himself roused at dawn and working harder than he ever had in his life until sunset.

She could hardly wait.

Chapter 12

Alexander woke slowly to the sound of roosters crowing. He'd always come awake slowly, for as long as he could remember, no matter how much racket anyone made. In his days at the military academy he might have gotten into trouble over that, if he hadn't been the Prince.

As it was, some — adjustments — were made to the usual procedures for cadets. Not to allow him to lie abed longer, good God, no — King Henrick would never have countenanced that. No, another arrangement was made. While the officers did not allow him to lie abed at reveille until he was actually awake, they did allow his batman to come in and begin the waking process for him alone, specially, a half hour early. He had a batman, of course, though the other cadets did not. And he had his own room, though the other cadets shared a dormitory. He was a Prince of the Blood, after all. While he was expected to abide by discipline and study as hard as the rest, he could scarcely be expected to shine his own boots or make his own bed. It was thanks to the batman that by the time the bugle sounded, he was awake and ready to fall out with the rest of the class.

As thoughts began to form with glacial slowness, he gradually realized that something wasn't right. He didn't feel right, and there was something different about his surroundings. He was lying all wrong, and he wasn't in a bed.

A new thought oozed to the surface; of course, he wasn't in his bed at home, he was on his way to win Stancia's daughter. He couldn't be in an inn, though, or he would be in a bed.

No, of course he wasn't in an inn. He'd been wandering around for days in the wilderness. He should have been in the forest, but there weren't any roosters in the forest. So something was still wrong.

He managed to move a little, and a foreign aroma — not unpleasant, but foreign — came to his nose, along with the crackle of something underneath him. From the scent, he seemed to be lying in straw.

He managed to move again, although he could not get his eyes open. His foot hit a wooden wall. He was lying against another. He got one eye open, got a hazy impression through sleep-fog and predawn light, of a narrow space hemmed in by crude wooden walls.

He was in a stable, in a stall. He was lying in a very odd position; he should have felt cramped, but he wasn't. He looked down at himself.

He had four legs. Four stubby, hairy legs, ending in hooves.

He had in his life, on a very few memorable occasions, come awake in a single moment. This was not the first time such a thing had happened, but it was certainly the worst.

He remembered everything, all in a rush. That horrible woman. The curse. Julian. The giant.

The memory sent a cold shock through him, jolting him into movement fueled by anger. All four hooves scrambling, he heaved himself up, braying at the top of his lungs, full of rage and despair.

And knocked himself senseless on the manger he'd somehow wedged himself underneath in the night.

The second time he awoke that morning, it was with a head that pounded as if five men were playing bass drums inside it, and a pain behind his eyes that stabbed all the way through his brain with every beat of his heart.