Tears.

For while the princess, standing by the castle gates with her meager belongings at her feet, wiped her eyes as she wept outwardly, Wyrn cried silently on the inside.

Despite his request of one bushel of apples, he received three. The second mule now accompanied Bluebell who looked smitten. The new mule’s cold response resonated with Wyrn as well.

Once one basket of apples landed into the wagon, Wyrn took hold of Bluebell and started for the bridge.

“Oi! Oi! You’ve got two more.”

No. They had two more. Wyrn took what he’d requested and set off. His plan was simple—take the princess as far as he could on the highway and let her run off toward Orm’s kingdom. With a new mule, and some apples, she’d eventually arrive.

Taking her to the crossroads was already out of his way. He’d even thought she would not follow him, but one glance back showed her hiding her face while carrying her things in her right hand.

It was already shameful enough walking rather than riding, so Wyrn resolved to slow to allow her to catch up. His plan was to put her things in the wagon but when he stopped, she did as well, a good distance behind him.

He took that for his imagination but on the second attempt with the same results, he took the hint and turned to be on his way. Now, he no longer cared about the length or speed of his strides. The moment they left the castle walls and stepped onto the cobblestones of the city, the princess stopped moving and instead looked around.

Like a fish stranded on dry land, eyes wide, mouth gaping, she scanned the tall buildings like she’d never left the castle before.

The better part of the afternoon passed before they were on the road. At this rate, she’d be forced to travel at night all alone.

Wyrn concluded, more than once, that it wasn’t his business what she did or what became of her.

Finally, they reached the fork in the road and Wyrn looked back. They’d said not a word to one another.

Most of his hair guarded his eyes but he could still see her quite clearly.

“I’ll give you money for an inn,” Wyrn said, gesturing to the building not so far away on the left path.

Rather than answer him, she remained with her head hung.

Wyrn studied her. For a moment, he wondered if she could speak at all. But that was nonsense, she’d spoken to the guards about her father. Perhaps that was a twin, a twin with trouble thinking and he’d been tricked. That would make more sense.

All the more reason he could not go home with this woman. But as he waited, she made no indication she intended to find that inn. Wyrn reached under the covering in the wagon and found his coin pouch. It was a good amount. She’d need only a fraction of it for the inn.

In the end, he decided to give all of it to her. He put it down on the ground and led Bluebell toward the road on the right—the new donkey followed.

The sun all but faded when he reached the hilltop. If he’d ridden the wagon, he would have been nearly there by now. Anticipation of the night drove him to find a lantern under the covering in the wagon and ready his flint.

It was when he’d struck it that he noticed the extra presence.

The princess stood some distance away, her clothes in one hand, but nothing in the other.

Wyrn took her in then cursed under his breath and ran past her. He found the money right where he’d left it. With a sigh of relief, he snatched it up.

He could barely make her out in the distance, her brown dress caught the wind and flowed around her. And then she moved, running away with his wagon and mules.

Something in Wyrn failed to function. It wasn’t like him to allow a slight but today he felt so defeated that he nearly allowed this trick to go unanswered. She’d left the money, maybe not even all of it, here for him to run back so she could steal his mule.

Wyrn started towards where he’d left them. There was no sense in running them down like an imbecile. But then he thought of Bluebell, he’d raised her from birth, and he took off.

Finding speed without the frenzy was near impossible but in no time at all he closed in on his previous location. What he expected and what he saw broke his heart.

The princess, firmly sitting on his wagon, commanded the mules with purpose. Her speed resembled that of a bat out of hell.

Wyrn thought to call for Bluebell but hesitated—at this point, maybe even she would betray him.

No. He was being foolish. So, he put two fingers into his mouth and let out a whistle.

Faithful and true, Bluebell planted her feet and the second mule obeyed. And off the princess went, sailing into the air.

She, unfortunately, landed in the grass, flat on her back. He’d been hoping for some of the dirt road—that would be more deserving.

His approach to her was far slower. That he did on purpose, but when she failed to move for a long while, he hurried to close the distance between them.

As soon as he arrived, he checked her neck, then her arms and finally, her feet.

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Nothing. Not a thing was broken. How could someone so despicable be so lucky?

Finally, he concluded that she was most likely winded.

“You’ll come around. Here.” Wyrn pulled her to sit, all the while rubbing her back. “Take deep breaths.”

But she was limp in his hands. More than once, he imagined someone walking by and misunderstanding their situation—it wouldn’t be all that hard.

“Come on, Princess. Wake up.”

Two brown eyes flew open. They peered at him for a long minute then a shudder of disgust surged through her body and the woman yanked herself free.

Wyrn, too stunned to even respond, stared her down. He remembered who he was and what people thought of him, so he stood.

She was moving. She was fine. And she was a blasted thief.

That was all he needed to know.

It was getting late, and he was hungry.

He gathered Bluebell and the new mule he hadn’t yet named, though he had a few choice names he considered now, and made his way from the road.

Best if they set up camp, he decided. Sure enough, once he reached the river, she came as close as she dared. He paid her no mind, but the fear of night trapped her to him. The first thing Wyrn did was unhitch Bluebell but allowed the next mule to remain. As he hunted, the risk of her making yet another attempt to flee was too great. At least this way, as Bluebell followed close, he’d have some means of getting back home. The summer breeze suited Wyrn just fine, but he still made a fire to keep animals away.

Since she was uninterested in money, and more so in a hefty theft, he decided to see about catching some food, Bluebell by his side. Surprisingly, he returned to find her still standing close to the fire and not waving goodbye to him on his wagon and new mule.

Night came with the roasting of a pheasant. That, Wyrn had to eat alone. And rather than sit, the woman simply stood, her back to the road.

The fire still roared when Wyrn curled up beside it, finally, he tied Bluebell’s lead around his foot and went to sleep. He’d left a good portion of the bird behind for her, but he awoke to find it still on the spit, no longer eatable.

And that wasn’t all—the princess was gone. The second mule, still hitched to Wyrn’s wagon, stared back at him.

Panic propelled Wyrn to his feet. No one. After he scanned the campground to find no signs of a struggle, no marks indicating someone was dragged, no other boot size footprints bigger than his own, he rested easy that she was in no danger. Even the money was gone.

With that, Wyrn snuffed the fire then climbed upon the wagon and started for home.

His thoughts rushed in the languished journey. He had to think of a lie. But then it occurred to him—why? No one but his mother knew of any tournament he’d been interested in visiting.

It was one day. How had his life managed to take such a horrible course in one day?

Bluebell and the new mule’s pace weren’t all that fast, but that was Wyrn’s fault. Then it happened. He started feeling sorry for himself.

“No,” he said, “no, that is not acceptable, huh, Bluebell? Wyrn’s bested a prince even. Won that tournament fair, too. I didn’t want no wife. Just my blasted apples.” He stared into the open road ahead then leaned over and told Bluebell, “And I’m going back with more than what I’d come with. Yeah? Isn’t that a cause for celebration?”

He sat up and took a deep breath. Yes. He was fine. He was a champion. No matter if his father didn’t know. It was all right. Wyrn knew.

There was no one for miles out this early so he began to sing. His voice came out strangled at first, but he persevered. Today was one of the few times he longed to be home. Therefore, other than stopping to find the mules food, he kept in motion.

More than once, his mind fell to those apples. He should have enjoyed one. That had been his promise to himself. But now with the awful memories that they conjured up, he decided he’d throw them away as soon as he arrived home. Perhaps he could feed them to the pigs.

The mules were exhausted by the time his village came into view. Much like the castle, which rested beyond a city, his home required traveling through his people. His father’s hut stood on a hill. The well-worn path looked daunting at the bottom.

Wyrn wasn’t at all surprised to find that he had to fight Bluebell all the way up to the top. It took ages. Only upon arriving did he notice that he’d forgotten about the apples.

Panicked, he hurried around to the other side of the wagon, intent on grabbing the basket and running back down into the town.

He barely reached his intended destination when the front door opened and a gasp carried on the warm night air.

“Finally! Thank The Living Goddess! You’ve returned!”

The sound of his mother’s voice had the house coming to life. Most of Wyrn’s brothers had a home of their own, with many of them long settled, but he was stunned to find all six of them emptying from the little house.

Vice hug after vice hug left Wyrn winded.

The only one who stood back was his father who wore an expression Wyrn couldn’t quite place.

On anyone else, Wyrn would have considered it relief, perhaps, but he knew better.

His mother did the strangest thing. She looked around Wyrn then turned in a full circle. When her eyes landed on Wyrn once more, she gushed, “So…where is she?”

Wyrn wrinkled his brow. “She?”

The woman’s opened mouth closed when her eldest son nudged her. That action confused Wyrn to no limit. In fact, his usual trust of his family started to waver.

Why were they all here? Why were they all gathered? And why were they all asking about a woman he was supposed to have with him?

A thought occurred and Wyrn gasped. “Has—has The Living Goddess said something? Given a sign of some kind?”

His mother’s lips parted with a twitch. It was a common habit of hers before she told a lie, but no words left her.

Instead, she looked brokenhearted. “Hadn’t…hadn’t you been to Rowis? For the tournament there?”

“Rowis?” Wyrn puzzled. “No. I’ve been to Rowil.”

“That’s in the opposite direction!” someone scoffed.

Father stood with his arms folded, never leaving the threshold of his house. His mouth set in a line, he watched on.

Wyrn felt two inches tall as he hung his head.

Even this one thing, he could not do. The last two days had managed to take every bit of confidence he’d built up for himself. Two days. Two days annihilated twenty years of hard work.

“It’s all right, dear,” Mother said, holding his face.

“Stop babying him,” Father commanded.

Today she surprised everyone by ignoring his words—that was unlike her.

Her focus set squarely on Wyrn, she dipped low and looked up at him.

“Well, it’s all right. Perhaps there’s still…time.”

The way she slowed and looked around at her sons meant someone, maybe two people or more, shook their heads.

Father’s derisive laugh was the final nail in the coffin. “Go back to your homes and posts. People need to sleep.”

But Wyrn couldn’t move. He didn’t understand why. Foolish. He’d been so foolish. It was by luck alone he hadn’t been forced to walk home with nothing but the clothes on his back, if even that.

Someone let out a cry and called their parents’ attention to the wagon but Wyrn didn’t look. He closed his eyes, hands rubbing his face. The damn apples.

Within minutes, his mother hurried to stand before him, a haunted expression spreading across her face.

“Wyrn, what have you done?”

Quite fed up with shame, Wyrn decided on villainy. “It’s none of your business what I do. Any of you!”

A stillness fell over them until his father eased off the doorframe and marched to the wagon. Whatever he found there caused him to sigh. After a long moment, he looked back at Wyrn and marveled, “So you did steal a wife? I hadn’t meant it but good for you.”

Wyrn spun around with no sense of having moved. All of a sudden he was simply facing the man.

“What?”

His eldest brother threw the covering back and reached his hand into the wagon before telling his Mother, “She’s alive, but she’ll need water. He’s fed her nothing but apples.”

Wyrn lost even the ability to feel his legs beneath him as he approached the wagon to see what they’d meant.

Crouched up, drawing ragged breaths, cradling her belongings tight, the princess clung to life.