“I’m a princess,” I say. “I was supposed to sit on the throne. Do you expect me to speak like a farm worker?”
“I have met farm workers with very fine manners.”
“True enough,” I say. “So why mock me for mine?”
“Am I mocking you?”
Beside me, Malric’s growl echoes my own frustration.
Dain rocks forward. “We don’t have time for this,” he says to the disembodied voice. “It’s almost night, and we’re in the Dunnian Woods, and we’ve already been attacked by harpies.”
“So why are you here, children? This is not the place to play.”
Dain waves at the sword on my back. “Does that look like a toy?”
“It does on her. She’s far too small to wield such a weapon.”
“Agreed,” I say. “I would far rather it was still on my aunt’s back. But since she is no longer here, I have taken on the responsibility.”
“It would fit far better on my back. Perhaps I should take it.” The voice moves to the left. “Yes, I think I would like it, as payment for my help.”
Dain squawks, but I put a hand on his arm.
“Would you also like the responsibilities that come with it?” I ask. “Whoever wields this sword must devote their life to keeping Tamarel free of monsters. Is that what you’re asking for?”
Her chuckle ripples through the forest. “You are far too bold for such a little monster hunter, lost in the woods.”
“I’m not lost. I know exactly where I’m going.”
“My mistake. Then you are far too bold for a girl at the mercy of a witch.”
“Witch?” Then it clicks. “Oh, you’re the healer. Cedany, isn’t it? That’s your cabin I filled with dropbears. I am sorry about that. We didn’t have a choice, and we returned as soon as we could to fix the problem. I’m glad to get the chance to meet you. I have a friend who might be out here, and she really wanted to make your acquaintance. I hope she’s still around.”
The healer’s sigh wends around us. “That is not the proper reaction to hearing I’m a witch, little girl. Do you even know what that is?”
“Don’t get her started,” Dain mutters.
“There’s no such things as witches,” I say. “Not in the folklore sense, as women with magical powers. What people commonly call witches are healers, usually women, who live outside of villages and cities, and make their living collecting herbs and creating medicines. While villagers are happy for their help, they also fear them because they live outside traditional society. And because medicine can be used as poison. While the healers don’t hurt anyone, people fear their power to do so. There is also the problem of physicians spreading stories out of professional jealousy, which is terribly unfair.”
I purse my lips. “It’s all terribly unfair, and if you’ve had to endure any of that, I’m sorry for it. I’m also sorry about the dropbears.”
Silence. Then, “That was a very complete answer.”
“I warned you,” Dain mutters.
“What if I told you I do have magical powers?” she says.
“Then I’d have to tell you there is no such thing as magic, and what you’re experiencing is more likely the power of suggestion and coincidence.”
“Did I tell you not to get her started?” Dain says. “Rowan has very firm opinions on magic and witches.”
“Oh, I suspect Rowan has very firm opinions on most things.” The voice draws closer. “And she is delightful for it.” A figure steps from the forest, hand extended. “Cedany of Havendale.”
I knew she was young—Yvain called her a “young woman of twenty”—but I’m still surprised to see she doesn’t look much older than Kaylein. She’s tall for a woman. Maybe six feet. Broad in her hips and her shoulders, with a pale-skinned face. People in Tamarel have skin tones mostly ranging from light to dark brown. There are people from countries over the mountains who have lighter skin and hair, like Wilmot. Cedany’s is even paler, though that may be because she lives in a forest, without much sunshine. Her hair is even more different, red-gold, like bronze coins.
“Havendale,” I say. “That is very far away.” It’s one of the farthest countries from Tamarel, not only across the mountains but with several more countries between us. “I have heard they have good monster hunters there.”
“They do,” she says. “Also very good witches. Oh, I’m sorry. Healers.” Her lips twitch. “So you don’t want to see me perform magic?”
“If you actually could, yes, I would love to see it. I’m not opposed to the concept. But what people call magic is usually just science they don’t understand.”
Another twitch of her lips. “You are a very bright child, with very strong opinions.”
“Can you perform magic?” Dain asks hesitantly.
She smiles at him. “Sorry. I am teasing. Though some do say my knowledge of herbs and plants is quite magical.”
“As is your skill with a bow,” I say. “Dain’s an archer, and he’d love to know more about your arrows, even if he won’t ask.”
“I would have asked,” Dain grumbles as he shifts the dropbear in his arms.
“Do I even want to know why you’re carrying that?” Cedany asks. “The warg, I have heard, belonged to Princess Jannah, so he makes sense. As for the jackalope?” She glances down at Jacko, who’s watching her warily from my feet. “Well, being quite fond of jackalopes myself, I find myself envious and unable to question the princess’s choice of companion. The dropbear, though?”
“She’s injured,” I say. “We’re taking her to my friend, the one who’d like to meet you. She’s training to be a healer and hopes to specialize in monsters.”
“You’re taking the dropbear…to be healed. So it may live long enough to drop on an unsuspecting human. I thought you were the royal monster hunter.”
“Actually—” I begin.
“Please,” Dain says, raising his free hand. “Do not get her started again, unless you want another lecture.”
“I would happily hear another informed and informative
