"Elsewise - A Beginning" by Becca Lusher

“Would you happen to be Sir Derek, by any chance? Knight of the Waytoomany Realms, famed defeater of dragons and dashing rescuer of damsels?”

Sir Derek looked up from his campfire and squinted at the figure in the shadows. He didn’t look like the type to challenge him to a duel, but then you could never tell with strangers - they often had a terrible habit of doing something unexpected. Whoever the shadowy figure was, Derek certainly wasn’t in the mood for him. He gave a heavy sigh. “I am Sir Derek yes, but -”

“That’s good enough for me. Don‘t spoil it by blabbering.” Stepping further out of the shadows, the stranger whacked the knight about the head with a branch and smiled as he slumped forward, a perplexed expression on his face.

The knight’s horse looked on with a disapproving snort, while the stranger rifled through the unconscious man’s belongings.

“Oh, shut up,” the stranger grumbled. “You’re both coming with me anyway.”

~~*~~

Princess Jezebel of Turhin and Saffrek was bored. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. And it was raining. Boredom and rain were clearly two things that should never coincide. It simply wasn’t decent. Sighing, she tucked her errant golden curls further under her hood, and wriggled a finger to her scalp, scratching briefly. While she preferred a warm head to a wet one, that didn’t mean she had to be happy with feeling itchy.

Yes, the princess was bored, but then she had spent so much of her life in various states of boredom that she was almost used to it. For fifteen years she had been near-constantly ignored by her father. He was absent-minded at the best of times, and was forever forgetting he even had a daughter. Normally that wasn’t too bad, though it could sometimes prove embarrassing.

There had been one memorable occasion where he had been conducting badly planned marriage betrothals for her and the young prince of the Curalok Empire, when she had been just five years old. The talks hadn’t gone well, forcing King Sidney to bid a hasty retreat. Of course things had gone a bit wrong when he was halfway across the Little Ocean and remembered why he’d been in the Empire in the first place. Then he realised that he’d also left said reason behind. When he’d returned, full of apologies, he’d found the palace in an uproar, with Jez dragging the prince around his playroom by his toes, while the young boy screamed at the top of his voice about having had his hair and eyebrows shaved off.

The war was still raging.

Jez had learned from a very early age that if she wanted to be entertained then she would have to do it herself. Of course there had been tutors and maids and the like throughout her life, but her father had sacked them on a regular basis, demanding to know what they were doing leeching off the palace payroll teaching a child that didn‘t exist. When he remembered again that he did actually have a daughter, he would hire more, then fire them about three weeks later. Jez had grown used to it, and often ran bets with her father’s footmen as to how long it would take before the latest lot were dispatched. She had made a small fortune that way.

Of course most of the time things had been fine. Even without official attendants to take care of her, she had muddled along well enough with the servants, soldiers, and the occasional well-intentioned courtiers who were looking for favour from the king. They soon realised that such an exercise was futile, and moved on, leaving room for the next lackwit to wander along. Her education had been haphazard at best, but it was well enough, and she knew all about being a proper lady, playing a court jester, serving the meals in the right order at a banquet, washing on Mondays, stitching uniforms for a small army, shining shoes, cooking roast swan and even breaking the wild Turhinni stallions to bridle. In her own mind, Jez was the perfect royal princess.

But…

Jez had been very disappointed to find out that most things in life came with a but attached to the end, trailing along behind like a forlorn kite, waiting to be caught up on something. Such kites always snagged in the end. It was like a fundamental law of all universes, and one which Jez decided she hated. In her case the snag was the fact that at fifteen her father had woken up for long enough to remember she needed to be married. As his only daughter, he had to make the most of her potential.

He tried, he really did, and Jez was grateful for it. But all the princes and lesser lords, earls, dukes and whathaveyous were idiots. Jez hadn’t wanted to marry any of them, any more than any of them had truly wanted to marry her. Well, not when they’d got to know her anyway. No amount of princess status could tempt them into making a go of it. A fact for which she was very grateful. It was the only thing upon which they could all agree.

After a year of this she had decided to do what she had spent most of her life doing - taking matters into her own hands. It was a simple act of planning and visiting estate agents to find herself a nice remote castle and drop herself into it. Everyone knew that a remote castle was a beacon for every knight across the world. They simply had to go and investigate, just in case there was a dragon inside for them to slaughter, or some mad, crack-pot sorcerer with plans to take over the world - maniacal laughter optional, but preferred if possible - that might sizzle them with pretty coloured lights. If they were really lucky they might find a crotchety old witch and foil her black-market apple and spinning wheel operations. Though the pie baking usually finished them off in the end. Occasionally the knights even went to these places to see if there was a princess worth marrying. Wealth permitting.

It was a perfect plan. Jez was very proud of herself as she set off and settled herself into her new, remote, thoroughly adventurous home. It wouldn’t be long before the first knight came knocking, in his dashing, interesting way, and swept her off her feet to a happily ever after. Jez tried not to think about the ever bit, because it unnerved her slightly that she might have to spend her entire life with just one person, but she figured she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Besides, no story ever told of a boring knight. Jez was positive she would be rescued by a dashing charmer, on a daring charger, full to the brim with effortless wit that would prevent her from ever getting bored. So maybe not so happily ever after, more like interested ever after.

That would suit her just wonderfully.

When the door closed behind her in her new home, she took a deep breath of the air of independence, and promptly sneezed. After fifteen mind-blowing sneezes most of the dust had settled, and she managed to take another step. It didn’t take her long to realise that running was the best option to avoid the sneezes and dust, and thus preventing her brain from shooting out through her nose. The place was filthy! However, she could honestly look back on those first six months in the castle and say she wasn’t bored.

No, she had been knackered instead. Honestly, anyone would have thought the place was derelict not deserted. The dust had been almost a foot thick in places, the walls covered in grime and the treasure so buried that she had to dig a crater any meteor would have been proud of simply to find it.

Then had come the winter.

Howling winds, freezing temperatures and constant drips of rain and snowmelt - most of which seemed to land in her bed, no matter where she moved it to. What was the honest use of a roof if it leaked? Still, learning how to slate a roof had kept her busy enough for another month or two, by which time she began to notice a distinct lack of knightly callers. Or any callers for that matter. Not even a few curious brats had stopped by to see if they could be cooked by a hungry witch.

Jez had been disappointed. That disappointment had turned into boredom. Idling around the castle for a few months more, she realised what she was missing. No one would turn up to a castle in the middle of nowhere if they didn’t know it was even there in the first place! She needed rumours. However, rumours were the contrary members of the whisper family, and she knew she had to bribe them with something juicy in order to get them working.

A quick trip back to the capital city, checking on her father, who declared her a most beautiful young maiden who would be a perfect wife for his son, if only he had one, and Jez had discovered just what she needed. A further trip to outer Pyrogonia and she returned to her empty home with a new best friend in tow. His name was Lux.

Of course he wasn’t her best friend, according to the rumours. No, if one listened to the rumours, Lux was an all ferocious dragon, who ate all moving things for breakfast, then picked his teeth with the bones afterwards. Oh, except for Jez, because she was his oh-so-pretty-beautiful princess hostage thing. Jez had realised in that moment that her rumours were rubbish, but she didn’t have the energy to go out and catch some more.

Anyway, even with lazy rumours the sniff of a dragon was more than enough to bring the knights in droves. Everyone knew that. All knights simply had to slaughter as many dragons as possible, and rescue and marry all the princesses. Jez did wonder how the knights managed to marry all the princesses they rescued, but decided again to cross that bridge when she galloped up to it waving a sword. Besides, bigamy could prove to be interesting - as long as she got to have more than one husband anyway.

Then there was the issue of Lux. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to be slaughtered by her bold and reckless rescuer, but Lux seemed fairly philosophical on the whole matter. He wasn’t bothered if he died as long as he died at the pointy end of a bloody good adventurer. At least, that was what she assumed he said, but he’d been snoring and blowing smoke rings at the time, so she couldn’t be quite sure. Still, it sounded pretty vainglorious, and she decided she rather liked that.

Not that she would be happy to die as long as it was at the pointy end of a bloody good adventurer, but it would beat being bored to death by the dull wit of yet another Duke Earl Lord of Nowhere-on-sea.

So Jez had settled down to her perfect plan and prepared herself to be swept fantastically off her feet. Surely she wouldn’t have to wait all that long…

She waited, and she waited. Then she waited some more. Then she patched up the leaking roof, shined the treasure and scrubbed Lux for scale rot. Then she waited again. It was while she was waiting that she figured something out.

That damned fundamental law of all universes had come to stay again, only instead of one kite to snag on things, it had supplied her perfect plan with fifty.

Yes, her plan was perfect, but it still didn’t work.

She waited for two years, in which time she taught Lux to play blackjack, and quickly untaught him again because of his bad loser tactics - let me win or I’ll fry you - figured out how to heat a leaky, drafty castle, and realised that smoking was seriously bad for one’s health. Still no one came by. Not even those who knew she was supposed to be there! It would have been nice if they could have checked occasionally to see if she was still alive, but no. She realised they had probably forgotten about her, again, and so fell back on her fool-proof backup plan.

She took matters into her own hands.

If no knights could be bothered to come to her, even on hearing the faint squelch of her lazy rumours, then she would have to go to them. And bring them back.

Well, she wasn’t going to let her perfect plan go to waste. Since she’d gone to all the effort of getting the castle and dragon perfectly in place, then the least the lazy, good-for-nothing knights could do was rescue her from them!

That was why Jez found herself trudging through the rain on her horse, leading a sleek, silver charger with its noble knight slumped across its back and tied to the saddle. Jez glanced at the knight she had caught and sighed. Fairy tales just weren’t as glamorous as everyone said they were.

Trudging back across the drawbridge, she slithered out of her horse’s saddle, and untied her new knight. With a shove, he slithered onto the cobblestones, leaving Jez free to take his charger into the stables and give it a proper rub down. He was still lying in the courtyard when she had tended to the horses, the only differences was the fact that his eyes were open now.

“Oh good.” Jez leaned over him and smiled. “At least I didn’t kill you. I was pretty sure that branch wasn’t hard enough, but with you knights one can never tell. Some of you have hefty thick skulls, while the rest of you are just soft in the head. Which are you?”

“Wha -?”

Jez sighed, offered a hand and hauled the man to his feet. “Come on. Inside with you, before we both catch our deaths.”

Rumours slithered out of the ruined guard barracks, and she glared at them. “No, I did not mean that literally. Go away.” They trickled back, muttering as they went.

“Come on.” She tugged Sir Derek’s arm, and stomped in through the kitchen. Lux was lying in his favourite spot in the main hall, blowing a series of decreasing smoke circles and watching them gather up amongst the high beams of the ceiling. “Brought you a present,” she told him, then turned round as the sound of something heavy hitting flagstones reached her ears.

Sir Derek the brave, reckless, courageous knight had fainted.

“Oh for pity’s sake,” Jez growled, and stormed towards the stairs. “Eat him, Lux. I’m going to have a bath, so you better have warmed some water for me.”

Lux lazily scratched his chin, moving his tail as she passed, and snorted two perfect smoke circles. Then fell back to sleep. In the corner by the kitchen door, Sir Derek began snoring.

*

Jez couldn’t face going downstairs again after her bath, so instead she raided her travelling rations and went to bed early, musing on her life. People had often asked when she was a child if she was named Jezebel for any particular reason. “I was named after my mother,” she usually replied, to indulgent smiles all around. “But I got off quite lightly.”

Rather unwisely, this would lead to most people then enquiring as to why she got off lightly.

“My half sisters are also named after my mother. They’re called Slut and Whore.”

Mostly Jez did this simply to see the shock on their faces - it amused her. What amused her more was their horror when they discovered she wasn’t lying. It was true, she had been named after her mother. Temperance had been a raving beauty, by all accounts, and had captured King Sidney’s heart with ease. Apparently she caught quite a lot of hearts, and was pretty generous with returning the favour. Of course Sidney hadn’t realised this at the time when he’d married her, and had been delighted when she gave birth to a bouncy, bright, baby girl. He’d been less delighted when less than a month later she’d run off with the baker boy.

The baker boy had been even less delighted when she did the same thing to him ten months later, leaving him holding two beautiful, but thoroughly unwanted twin girls. Hence the names Slut and Whore. The last anyone heard of Temperance, she had settled in with a group of travelling players, but no one wanted to enquire after the names of the newest children when the group came back the next year, minus Temperance. It was safer not to know.

Jez knew she’d gotten off lightly, and in fact she didn’t mind her name so much. Her sisters were nice too, and both had been clever enough to adjust their names. Slut had added a letter and taken another one away, and was now better known as Lute, while Whore was known as Ory. They had also perfected the art of smiling winsomely whenever anyone asked about their mother, or what their names were short for. Jez was pretty proud of them.

Yet they hadn’t been princesses like she was, so they’d been married off early and lived somewhere in their boring happy-ever-after worlds in some backwater village, having babies and baking bread. Not that there was anything wrong with those things, Jez reminded herself sternly, if that was what you wanted. It just didn’t happen to be what she wanted.

Often she worried that her father had ignored her on purpose, frightened that she would do the same thing to him that Temperance had done. The rest of the time she wondered if her father’s forgetfulness had been why Temperance had run away in the first place. Then she realised Temperance ran from everything, and her father was just absentminded. He had probably forgotten he was even married once by now. They were who they were, and she was somehow related to both, but determined to be different from either.

Except that she couldn’t stop becoming bored. Maybe that was what had happened to Temperance every time she stopped somewhere. Or maybe she was just a jezebel, and all those other names her poor, unfortunate, abandoned children ended up being called. There were rumours of a son called Cuckold and another Ofabitch, but they had never been confirmed.

Whatever it was, and wherever she was, Jez realised it was better to be like her father and forget that Temperance ever existed. Yet it wasn’t hard to remember how things had started when everything kept on going wrong.

“I should have been called But. Damn fundamental workings of the universe,” she grumbled, punched the pillow, rolled over and fell asleep.

~~*~~

The next morning she trudged downstairs, yawning, stepped over Lux’s tail and headed into the kitchen, automatically sidestepping the snoring knight. “I thought I told you to eat him,” she remarked absently to Lux, and went in search of the kettle.

The kitchen was filled with chittering squirrels, romping to and fro across the surfaces. Jez filled the kettle in the trough outside, wandered back through the door and threw the freezing water over the nearest rodent.

“Go on! Get out, you pesky little buggers!” she shouted, sloshing more water over any that came within reach.

Shaking clenched paws, they chattered obscene curses at her and fled in the face of more icy water.

“Bloody little things,” she growled beneath her breath, stomping out to fill the kettle again. “This is not a flipping refuge for all creatures great and small. I’m busy here.” Returning to the kitchen, she propped her fists on her hips and looked around. The squirrels had left lots of squishy squirrel presents everywhere, and from the build up it seemed that they’d been doing it for a good number of days, uninterrupted.

“This is ridiculous! What is the point in having a cat if -?” She stopped, slammed her hand against her forehead and wrenched open the door to the main hall again. “Lux!” she bellowed. “What have I told you about eating the cats!”

Lux opened one golden eye, and sucked the trailing end of a squirrel into his mouth with a guilty slurp. She glared at him until he spat out a fluffy grey tail, which landed at her feet, in a clear for you gesture. When she didn’t react with delight, his green ears drooped and he made a low, growling whine. The golden eyes blinked mournfully.

“You are worse than useless!” she declared, throwing up her hands in disgust and returning to the kitchen, almost tripping over Sir Derek on route. He simply snorted, and rolled over.

“I have a headache,” she mumbled weakly, and brewed herself a nice cup of tea.

*

She spent the rest of the day bribing the knight’s horse with carrots and other dirty, rooty things from the garden, before being rewarded with a chance to ride the charger without it throwing her into the middle of next week. Bruised, dusty, dishevelled but triumphant, by the time she returned to the castle she was in a much better mood. She even carried a string of former-pesky squirrels on her back to present to Lux as a peace offering.

Entering the main hall, she took a deep breath and plastered a smile to her face. “Lux, I wanted to say I’m - Sorry, who are you?” She stopped, blinking in the rapidly waning light at the stranger standing in the hall, naked sword in hand, facing her dragon. Sunlight gilded the tall, broad shouldered figure, creating a halo around his rich, golden curls, while his blue eyes blazed from his shadowed face. From where she was standing he looked on the very positive side of handsome. Her heart raced - was this the big moment? Had her knight in - quite frankly badly tarnished - armour - if it could even be described as such - come to rescue her from the back of beyond?

Lux didn’t seem to think so, and was regarding the newcomer with all the mulish annoyance of a dragon interrupted.

“Stay back, maiden!” the stranger declared in his best parade voice. “I have the beast under control.”

Jez snorted, slung her squirrels on the floor, folded her arms and leant back against the wall. This ought to be good.

“Be not afraid!” he said, not even looking at her as he thrust a hand out to keep her away - in case she decided she was going to approach and interrupt his big moment. “I shall avenge my fallen comrade and all will be well.”

“Fallen comrade?” she echoed, and looked around the hall. There was a special rasping noise missing, not to mention the annoying bulk that she would have tripped over on exiting the kitchen that morning had moved. Sir Derek was gone. But where?

Her eyes followed the trail of dusty footprints across the hall floor, which had taken a distinctly different route to her normal pathway, and saw them lead all the way up to Lux’s mouth. But not away again. Poking out just beyond the dragon’s scaly jaw was an extremely well tailored leather boot - last seen on the foot of Sir Derek, who had arrived out of armour.

“Lux!” she cried, storming across the hall, ignoring the frantically waving knight. “You ate him?” He flicked a scaly ear in her direction - a sure sign he was listening. “How could you just eat him, after all the trouble I went to?”

Lux sighed, sending a few puffs out through his nostrils, in a clear well, you kept telling me to kind of way, then yawned.

“Avast, fiend!” the knight shouted.

“There you go. Nasty things those squirrels for getting in your teeth, aren’t they?” Emerging from the wide mouth of the dragon, absently patting sharp fangs as he went, was Sir Derek - he who fainted on first viewing the monstrous beastie merely the night before. “You need to floss and brush twice a day, you know,” he remarked sternly to Lux’s adoring stare.

Lux cooed and fluttered his eyelashes.

Or was that her eyelashes? Jez stared, aghast, as her dragon flirted with her knight. She hadn’t even known Lux was female. Why hadn’t she known that? It irked her feminine sensibilities to have been so deluded in her choice of monstrous assistant. “What is going on here?” she demanded.

“That’s what I was going to ask.” The second knight looked even more annoyed than she did.

“Poor Lux had squirrel tails caught in her teeth, didn’t you, Luxy-waxy?” Sir Derek tickled the dragon’s cheek, making the beast purr ecstatically.

“Luxy-wuxy?” Jez repeated in incredulous disbelief, then shook her head, deciding she didn’t want to know, and massaged her temples with a suffering sigh. “I am too tired for this. I need a cup of tea.”

“Could you make me one?” the second knight asked. “I think I have a headache.”

*

“So, who are you then?” Jez questioned as she wiped squirrel mess off the table and put down two cups, before fetching the kettle from the fire.

“Your forgiveness, gentle maiden,” the knight rumbled impressively, creaking to his feet and kissing her hand - which wasn’t so clever as she was pouring hot water at the time. He yelped as he burnt his nose on the copper pot. “I am Sir Trevor of Nexton.”

Jez smirked and handed him a cold cloth. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir Trevor. What brings you here to my humble prison?”

He snatched the cloth a little ungraciously and pressed it to his throbbing nose, while looking around at the dingy kitchen. “Clearly not the décor,” he grumbled.

Realising she had hurt his feelings, Jez bit her lip and finished making the tea, before putting the cup carefully down in front of him. “Sorry, my manners have slipped of late. It’s what happens when you spend all your time with a snoozing dragon.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, then sipped his tea gracefully. “How long has the beast imprisoned you for, gracious lady?”

“Lux has been here about two years,” she replied, idly stirring her tea and staring at Sir Trevor. He looked a lot less impressive now he didn’t have the sun shining behind him. In fact his hair was distinctly silver in places, and there were a lot of wrinkles on his face. He might even be as old as her father. That thought made her shudder, and she took a quick gulp of her drink. In all her plans an ancient knight had not been a factor. She could sense the fundamental law of the universe was laughing at her again. Curse it.

“And you, milady, how long have you been here in this,” he looked around and sneered, “dreadful place?”

Jez frowned and could feel her hackles rising. She shot a pointed glance at his armour which was just as badly cared for as her kitchen. “Three years, or so.”

“Three?” he questioned, elegantly shaped eyebrows shooting upwards. “But the dragon has only been here for two.”

“Yes, I’m glad you noticed that,” she sighed absently. This knight was no fun. Where was the interesting stuff? Like dragon slaying and heroic deeds? Not that she wanted Lux slain, but at least a few soft swipes with the sword in a fairly menacing manner would be nice. But no, instead they were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea and talking. It was all so, well, civilised. She shuddered. Where was a barbarian when you needed one? At least they had the decency to throw you over their shoulder and carry you off kicking and screaming - the damsel kicking and screaming, obviously, not the barbarian. That would be weird. She frowned at her thoughts and shook away the odd mental images.

“Are you not the foul fiend’s prisoner then?” Sir Trevor’s carefully modulated voice was sounding a bit squeaky. Jez wondered if he had swallowed a few squirrel droppings. He seemed to think they were brown sugar earlier on, and added a few lumps to his tea. Jez was too well-mannered to bring it up. After all, it might be some weird knightly custom.

“Umm… not exactly,” she hedged. Well, it would sound a little desperate if she admitted she’d hired Lux to do the job. Her plan was wonderful, as long as she didn’t have to admit to it in front of witnesses. She certainly hadn’t expected a knight to ask! They weren’t supposed to do things like thinking, they were supposed to act. Be brave, bold, daring and… stupid.

It struck Jez then that maybe marrying a knight wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Gosh, is that the time?” she said suddenly, standing up from the table swiftly enough to make her chair screech along the flagstones, causing Sir Trevor to wince. “My word, how time does fly when one’s having fun. Well, I won’t keep you. No doubt you’ve got to be off and smiting something. Lovely talking to you.” She snatched the cup out of Trevor’s hand and dumped it in the sink. “But as you can see it’s late and I, well,” she gave a huge, very unconvincing yawn, “must go to bed now. Truly was a pleasure, Sir… err… umm… knight.”

“Sir Trevor of -”

“That’s the one. Yes, Sir Trevor. Anyway, I wish you every luck with your future endeavours.” Tugging his arm, she hauled him up from his seat and pushed him back into the hall where Lux was blowing heart-shaped smoke rings around Derek. “Off you go then.” She gave him a helpful shove towards the doors.

Finally free of her strong arm, Sir Trevor wheeled around and stared at her, slack jawed with disbelief. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Helping you leave,” she replied. “It’s late, after all. Don’t want you riding through the dark to reach the nearest inn. Dreadfully tricky roads around here. Lots of cliffs and sharp, crumbly sided ravines. Not to mention the wolves. Yes, best go while there‘s a little light left.”

At that moment Lux raised her head and blew softly on the candelabras, filling the hall with a warm light to dispel the advancing night.

“It’s already dark!” Trevor exclaimed.

Jez looked around and raised her eyebrows. “So it is. How silly of me not to notice.”

Sir Trevor was regarding her with a perplexed expression. She realised it was faintly different from his noble expression because his left eyebrow wasn’t quite perfectly aligned with the right. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Well, at least he was finally proving himself to be a true knight after all. He must certainly have passed his stupid exams with failing colours.

She decided to act winsomely, because apparently it always worked. Jez blushed becomingly and fluttered her eyelashes. “My lord, do you honestly expect me to allow you to sleep under my roof, me being a virtuous maiden and all?” She flapped her hand.

For a moment she saw it working, and Sir Trevor half turned to walk out of the door, then he frowned. “This is a castle. I don’t think it will be an affront to your virtue, dear lady, if I were allowed to curl up in a corner somewhere, as long as you did not share it with me.” He ran an approving eye over her attire.

Downright insulted now, Jez folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “All right then, yes, I am throwing you out. Goodbye, Sir Knight.”

“Trevor,” he corrected, then folded his own arms across his chest. “And you can’t throw me out.”

“Why not?”

“Because I rescued you!” he protested. “I rode up here, faced off with the dragon, and now I shall ride away with you as my prize and we shall wed, and live happily ever after. That’s the way these things work. Don’t you know anything?”

Jez smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile, or warm. In fact it made Sir Trevor shudder. “The dragon still lives, Sir Knight.”

“Trevor. Sir Trevor of Nexton,” he corrected again, with a growl. “And I have to face down the dragon. There’s nothing in the rules about killing it.”

“No, that’s usually when it kills you.”

He scowled, then drew his sword from its sheath. “Fine. I’ll kill the bloody dragon, then carry you off and we‘ll forget this conversation ever happened.”

“No!” Derek and Jez shouted together.

Lux, clearly not in the mood to have her head severed from the rest of her, reached out one delicate claw and hooked it around Sir Trevor’s waist. She dragged him closer, then displayed her shiny, squirrel free teeth.

Jez relaxed, knowing her dragon had things in hand. “Kill away,” she invited the knight, while the dragon puffed a small stream of smoke into the man’s face.

“This - ahem, ahem - is - ahem - ridic - ahem, ahem - ulous - ahem. You’re messing - ahem, ahem, ahem - with - ahem - the rules of - ahem, ahem, ahem, ahem - engagement.”

“Aww, shame.” Jez tipped her head on one side. “Perhaps I need a knight who’s willing to mess around with the rules. Is that not you?”

“Madam - ahem - I ad - hem - here to the - ahem, ahem - code of - hem, ahem, hem - chivalry, I’ll have - ahem - you know!”

“I’ll take that as a no then,” Jez sighed disappointedly. “Then again, you are old enough to be my father. Lux, finish him off please.”

Sir Trevor screamed as Lux opened her jaws, then he fainted. Lux shut her mouth with a snap and gave a groan of disappointment.

“I know,” Jez said consolingly, and patted the dragon’s cheek. “Much less fun, but at least we don’t have to listen to him whine anymore.”

Lux sullenly flicked the collapsed knight away and propped her chin on one paw, muttering mutinously to herself and tapping her claws, while her tail twitched agitatedly.

Derek looked at her with concern, but Jez shook her head. “She’ll be fine. Lux just doesn’t like it when her sport decides not to play. Here, Derek, don’t suppose you could do me a favour, could you?”

He blinked.

“Could you transport him outside into the stables? That way when he wake he’ll hopefully leave. If not, at least in the meantime he won’t be underfoot.”

“Sure.” Derek shrugged, then grabbed hold of Trevor’s ankles. “And I’m sorry, by the way.”

“For what?” Jez had returned to the kitchen door and was collecting her former-pesky squirrels string for Lux again.

“Him.” He nodded at the tin body he was dragging across the room. “He came to rescue me, but he found you instead. It’s what he likes to do. I’ve tried getting him help, but it doesn’t seem to work. You see he has to admit he has a problem before anyone can help.”

Jez’s eyes widened with interest. “What kind of problem?”

“He’s a rescuaholic.” Derek shook his head sadly. “Spends all his time stalking other people in the hope they’ll be kidnapped and the like. He even gives out business cards to the residents of Outer Pyrogonia.”

“He does?” Jez’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes. Just in case they ever want someone to come and take their princesses off their claws.”

“Oh.” She blinked; Sir Trevor was even more desperate than her. “What happens to the ones he does rescue?”

“They usually run away. He’s not good company, I’m afraid. Too busy looking for the next mission.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. It’s no fun being a knight really,” Derek sighed, and lugged his friend out of the door and into the courtyard beyond.

Lux snorted.

“I know. Men. They have no idea.” Jez patted her dragon with female solidarity, gave her the squirrel string, then returned to the kitchen in hope of finding something to eat.

~~*~~

When Derek clattered around the corner of the castle with his burden, he found two faintly familiar horses companionably munching on some hay in the middle of the stable yard. A pile of saddle bags and an assortment of tack were propped up against the building wall, while a young man played cards on a wooden crate, seated on an upturned bucket. He didn’t look up when Derek and Sir Trevor rattled into view.

“Evening, lad,” Derek greeted, heading over to the stabled horses to greet his own charger.

The young man looked up and smiled, before shuffling his cards into order. “Hello, Sir Derek.” He stood up. “Glad to see you’re all right.” He nudged the other knight, lying prone on the ground, with the toe of his boot. “What happened to him?”

“Dragon,” Derek explained.

The young man’s eyebrows rose. “He doesn’t seem scorched,” he remarked, leaning down for a closer look in the gathering gloom. “And you look all right.”

Derek smiled, then shrugged. “Well, you know what Trevor can be like when he gets a mission on.” They shared a knowing look. “Anyway, I don’t think things were quite as he expected them to be. Are you coming in for some supper?”

“Sure.” The young man put his cards away and grabbed Sir Trevor’s ankles. “Could you give us a hand to get him into one of the stables though first? You know have grouchy he gets if it rains on his armour - especially when he’s inside it.”

Derek looked at the young squire, but decided not to ask why he wasn’t more bothered by his master’s current state. They were both used to such things after all. “But of course.” Between the two of them they hauled Sir Trevor into an empty stall, and stored most of the packs with him. They then stabled the loose horses and headed towards the kitchen door.

“So what sort of place is this, anyway?” the squire asked.

“The strangest kind,” Derek replied with a light smile, and entered the kitchen.

“Thanks for doing that,” Jez said without looking around, too busy brushing squirrel droppings off the surfaces and sweeping them across the floor. “I’ve put some food on. It should be ready in about - Oh.” She blinked to find two men in the kitchen where she had expected one. “More guests?” Leaning casually on her broom, she idly tugged on the scarf she had wrapped around her head to keep her long, blonde hair out of the way, and looked at the newcomer.

He was distinctly average in everyway. He was a shade below six foot in height, with a stocky kind of build, broad shoulders and muscled arms. His hair was a mousy, nondescript brown, and his eyes were hazel. His skin was golden tanned by the sun. He looked well enough, but in an average kind of way, with no outstanding features. He certainly wasn’t someone she would look twice at if she passed him in a crowd. Jez was enchanted.

“This is Sir Trevor’s squire, King Smith.”

Jez blinked, then stared at Derek in confusion. “Smith’s a funny name, isn’t it? And why on earth is a king a squire?”

He smiled. “I’m the son of a smith, and the only kind of king that serves as a squire is one with ambitious parents.”

“You mean you are actually called King?” Jez asked with disbelief.

He grimaced. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Jez frowned and swept the floor a few more times while she thought. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a brother called Duke and a sister called Princess?”

King chuckled. “No, my sisters are called Countess and Barony. But I do have a brother called Duke, and one called Prince.”

She stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Wrong.” He shook his head. “There are seven of us - Prince, Duke, Earl, Sir, Countess, Barony and me. Like I said, ambitious parents.”

“You’re telling me.” There was something about the odd names and the hint of ambition that struck a chord with her. She grinned, and joked, “Don’t tell me, your mother was called Temperance.”

King looked surprised. “Why, yes. However did you guess?”

“Oh Gods, no.” He looked horrified by the idea. “She left years ago, when my youngest brother, Sir, was about three months old. Fed up of always having boys, apparently. She and my father were only married for four years.”

“She had seven children in four years?” Derek gaped, deciding to join in the conversation. “Do you have lots of twins in your family then?”

“No.” King shook his head cheerfully. “We’re all of separate pregnancies and births. Like I’m four months older than my brother, Sir, and he’s six months older than Countess, who’s two months older than Barony.”

“But, how?” Jez demanded. “That’s impossible for her to do that.”

“Oh!” King laughed, finally figuring out the cause of their confusion. “Don’t worry, she didn’t give birth to us. Gods, no, all that mess and effort. No, mother couldn’t be bothered with that. She didn’t even sleep with father all that often. Not when there was a whole village to share her favours with, so she wouldn‘t get overly bored. Nah, she would get the maids in to do her duty for her. We were all birthed by staff members, even Earl, who seems to have been born to the butler. Poor man, he never really recovered from finding out he was having a baby.”

Jez swept the last of the squirrel droppings out of the door with a deft flick of her broom, and planted her fists on her hips so she could glare at him. “Now I know you’re having me on.”

King smiled, his eyes glittering merrily. “Well, maybe just a little.”

“So was this Temperance woman your mother or not?” Derek asked, rescuing the rapidly burning chicken from the fire.

“Not.” King shook his head. “I was telling the truth there. Officially she’s mother to each of us, despite not even being around for the births of Countess and Barony, but I think only Duke was actually born to her. And then only because the village had a spot of fever that year and she got caught out. Of course, there’s all the rumours that our father isn’t his father. But those things gave everyone such a headache that officially we’re all Bernie Smith’s kids, with Temperance as our mother.”

“Gods, and I thought my childhood was weird.” Jez tugged her scarf loose and sat down at the table, smiling at Derek as he carved up the chicken.

“So, who are you then?” King asked, once they were all settled down to eat. “And what are you doing here at the castle?”

“Mmm,” Derek agreed. “I had meant to ask you myself, but other things kept cropping up.”

Jez smiled at him. “No worries. I need to apologise for hitting you over the head and kidnapping you anyway, so I say we call it quits.”

“Oh, so that was you, was it?” Derek asked, blinking. “I, umm, wondered.”

“Yes. Who else would it be?” Jez chuckled.

The two men looked at her, obviously taking in her short stature and slim frame. When she caught King casting a disparaging look at her narrow wrists, she removed her hands from the table and glared. She had often been described as elfin throughout her life. Those who said it often revised it afterwards to effin’, usually followed by strong, cow, witch, vicious or other such things. Jez was a firm advocate in never judging by appearances, namely others judging her own.

She scowled. “Would you care to go through it again, just so we can prove it?”

“Err… no, you’re all right. I believe you,” Sir Derek mumbled, rubbing the back of his head meaningfully. King still looked far from convinced, and Jez made a mental note to beat him up before too long just to prove her point.

Oblivious of the plot concerning his downfall, King smiled disarmingly, and repeated his question. “So, who are you anyway?”

Jez pulled herself up regally. “My name is Jezebel, but most people call me Jez,” she added, not wanting either of them to be formal. Her full name reminded her of her mother.

“Jezebel?” Derek mused. “Were you named after the princess then?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No, I was not. I was named after my mother.”

“Your mother was called Jezebel?” King asked, eyebrows raised.

Smiling faintly, Jez met his eyes with hers. “No. She was a jezebel called Temperance.”

King appeared utterly speechless for a moment, then he smiled. “So she finally had a girl then.”

“She had a couple of twin girls after she left my father, too.”

“Hang on, you have the same mother?” Derek asked.

Jez shrugged. “I guess. Though she was actually my mother - gave birth to me and everything.”

“Such ties are so overrated,” King drawled. Then sat up sharply. “Hang on. The last I heard of Temperance she married the King.”

Grinning, Jez nodded. “She did.”

“But the King’s daughter is called Jezebel,” Derek pointed out, then put down his fork. “Oh.”

Thoroughly enjoying the looks on both men’s faces, Jez smiled and echoed, “Oh.”

King frowned at her, picked up his glass and drained it slowly. Then he looked at her some more. “So you’re the princess?” he said eventually.

“I’ve been told so,” she admitted.

“You don’t look like a princess,” King said, eyeing her doubtfully. “Well, you’ve got blonde hair like all princesses are supposed to, and you’re dainty enough, I guess, but, well, your clothes...”

Jez looked down, puzzled about what her scruffy attire had to do with anything. “I was riding earlier. I haven’t had a chance to change.”

“Your home.” He looked around the kitchen.

“It’s a deserted castle, with a dragon. You know, just like in the stories.”

“Oh,” he said softly, his face crinkling into a smile. “Just like in the stories.”

“So you’re the princess then?” Sir Derek asked, seemingly a few beats behind the rest of the conversation.

“Isn’t the princess supposed to marry the knight who rescues her though?” King wondered, while Jez cast Derek a look of utter disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s a proper knight.”

“You mean stupid?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Like I said, he’s a proper knight. But, back to my previous question, about stories…”

Jez rolled her eyes. “Well, supposedly, but honestly the stories don’t tell of the princess having to repair the roof in the middle of winter because it leaks. Or that she has to go out and fetch her own bloody dragon, because they’re too lazy to come north. Apparently it’s too cold. Lazy, good for nothing, sun seekers.”

“They don’t mention having to kidnap your own knights either,” King mused.

“No.” Jez slumped in her chair, utterly dispirited. “They don’t.”

“Seems like an awful lot of bother to go through, just to get rescued.”

“Tell me about it,” she admitted. “And then, finally, one does turn up.”

“And you throw him out.” A smile was twitching in the corner of King’s mouth. Jez wanted to pummel him, right down into the ground until he was all soft and mushy and she could feed him to the pesky squirrels through a straw. She hated others laughing at her expense, and this doomed experiment had proved very costly indeed so far.

Jez flicked her hair back over her shoulder in her haughtiest manner. “Have you looked at Sir Trevor recently?” she demanded.

“Well, he’s a little weather-beaten,” Sir Derek said kindly.

“Maybe a little rough around the edges,” King agreed.

“And he does have that terrible addiction.”

“Not to mention the fact he’s a little bit slow.”

“No, he isn’t!” Derek protested. “He’s knightly.”

“Like I said, slow,” King replied, smiling again. “And he’s vain too.”

“But other than that he’s a thoroughly top bloke. You could do worse,” Derek said, in the same tone all her guardians, tutors and father’s councillors used to use when desperately hauling suitors before her bored, wandering eyes.

“You forgot to mention his age,” Jez pointed out and yawned, beginning to feel just as mind-numbed as she did back when she was in the palace. Gods, who would have thought solitude was better than company. These two alone were enough to bore her stupid. Well, Derek could do it on his own without any help at all. King was just annoying.

“He’s in his prime,” Derek declared, puffing out his chest proudly. Clearly Trevor was almost the same age as him.

“He’s old,” Jez said cruelly, no longer in the mood to protect fragile knight egos, and determinedly didn‘t feel mean when Derek‘s shoulders slumped. “He’s ancient enough to be my father.” She grimaced. “Temperance may well have been my mother, but I think even she would stop short at marrying her own father. And I’m nothing like her, so I will not marry one of a similar age.” She shuddered, her skin crawling from the thought.

“At least you wouldn’t have to stay married for long,” King pointed out. “He’ll probably die in a few years and leave you free to run off with someone half your age.”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Gosh, you’re such a comfort.”

He tugged the peak of an imaginary cap. “I just does me best, Highness.”

She stared at him and his cheeky smile, and decided he was in fact the pesky squirrels in human form. That fundamental law was laughing again, she could tell. “What are you doing here anyway?”

He grinned, sat back and put his feet up on the table. “Broadening my mind, Princess. And let me tell you, it feels quite stretched already.”

Unimpressed, she got to her feet. “Whatever. But be careful - stretch it too far and it might snap. Shouldn’t take long. Only try not to spill your brain all over my floor - I’d hate to have to clean it up. If you insist on breaking, make sure you do it outside.”

“Not to worry, Your Majesty, I shan’t mess up your pristine abode.”

He was mocking her again. She was not amused. Gathering all the scorn and derision she could possibly find, she flicked her eyes along the length of his legs and up to his face, then flashed her most insincere smile. “You’re all consideration, Master Smith. I simply cannot deal with such chivalry. Please excuse me.” With a curt nod to him and Derek, she left, patting Lux absently as she passed her, and headed up to bed. The day had proved exhausting.

~~*~~

She woke to find golden sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window, and smiled. It was a new day, and she was feeling so much better. Today Sir Trevor would run off - if he knew what was good for him - and take his wretched squire with him. If her luck held Sir Derek might even go with them, leaving her free to play pontoon and poker with Lux, while dreaming up her next plan for an interesting ever after.

Knights didn’t work, nor did nobles of any kind, and especially not monarchs. She scratched her itchy head and peered in the mirror, counting how many new freckles she’d accumulated since the day before. The ladies at court abhorred freckles as an abomination. Since being told that Jez had been careful to monitor her own freckle situation, and was known to throw parties for every ten new ones.

No, knights and nobles didn’t work, and she wasn’t sure she could put up with ordinary, working folk. They were too good and honourable for her, besides, they were happy working. There wasn’t anything wrong with a day’s good, hard, honest work, but Jez already knew such a thing would bore her rigid. And if they weren’t good, honest folk then they’d probably turn out like King. She shuddered. No, she certainly couldn’t look to the common people.

Twisting her blonde locks into a few braids, she glared at her reflection and waited for it to come up with something. Barbarians sounded like fun, but Jez was learning not to pay attention to everything she heard. After all, there was only so much being thrown over a shoulder, kicking and screaming a girl could take. Besides, a cave really wasn’t the kind of place she wanted to live. This castle was quite bad enough.

No barbarians then. Savages were basically the same, only with less clothes, more teeth and jungles. “Too many bugs.” She sighed, and realised she would either have to find a whole other species to infiltrate, or find a mage.

“Oh Gods,” she groaned. “I hate mages. They’re so… magical. And cocky. And vain.” Kicking loose pieces of mortar away from the wall, she left her room and headed downstairs. There were things to be thankful for, she reminded herself, even if she hadn’t got a proper backup plan in place yet. She was still young, she had plenty of time and a good brain. Given enough time she was bound to come up with something. Meanwhile she had a castle to reclaim.

Whistling, she patted Lux’s tail on the way past and entered the kitchen. The squirrels were back. Jez grinned evilly, grabbed the kettle and sprinted for the door. Chaos erupted. The squirrels were annoyingly perky, viciously chewy and rather too free with their squishy little presents, but they weren’t stupid.

They could remember from the day before that a fast walking Jez with the copper kettle usually resulted in wet squirrels. So when she ran, so did they, causing a furry pile up in the doorway. Chittering and swearing, Jez and the squirrels exploded out into the kitchen garden beyond.

“Watch out!”

Suddenly free of squirrels, Jez had mere moments to leap to safety before a pile of slates tumbled down in the space she had been standing. They shattered on impact, spraying everything with tiny, sharp shards.

Attack squirrels were one thing, but death by slate was something else. And she hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Coughing and brushing dust away from both herself and the air around her, she climbed back to her feet and looked up. Just above the kitchen, about ten feet from the ground, was a small, gently sloping section of the roof, put in place mostly to accommodate the kitchen chimney. Normally it was empty except for a few fat, lazy pigeons.

“You all right?”

King was looking both cheerful and awake as he scrambled around on the slates. How dare he still be here! How dare he be on my roof! Her good mood evaporated, and she glared at him. “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” she yelled. “That roof is messed up enough without your clumsy great clodhoppers romping around all over it!”

King perched on the guttering and smiled, folding his arms upon his knees, while his feet hung over the drop. “My, but we are so beautiful in the mornings. And such a wonderful temperament. You truly are a delight for sore eyes. Forgive me for not believing you before - I can see you’re a princess now. No one else would dare have such an attitude.”

In no mood for him, she bent down - on the pretence of removing a stone from her shoe - and threw two large pieces of slate up at him, adding her shoe for good measure.

“Steady on!” King laughed, avoiding the slate before the shoe hit him smack in the chest. He gave a grunt of surprise, then fell backwards, almost slipping off the roof into the bargain.

Jez smiled, satisfied with her morning’s work, and dusted her hands clean. Retrieving the kettle from where it had been dropped much earlier, she filled it up from water trough. On her hobbling way back to the kitchen, she noticed King still watching her, only now he was dangling her boot by its laces as though he was fishing for something.

Jez eyed it, not liking the way it was positioned over the door. She wouldn’t appreciate being hit on the head by her own footwear. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave?” she asked pointedly.

He smiled lazily, twisting his prize around so that it tapped against the wall. “My lord departed at first light. He didn’t seem keen to keep me with him. Apparently I failed in my squire duties.”

“What, by not giving a toss?” She snorted. “I can see why he’d sack you, but did he have to do it here? Couldn’t he have found a nice desert and left you without transport or provisions? Or something similarly generous?”

King gasped and put a hand to his chest. “I am mortally wounded by your uncaring attitude, Your Majesty. How could you not care about my sudden and unfortunate change in circumstances?”

“Quite easily,” she replied. “And I think it’s more unfortunate for me. What are you doing with my shoe?” she demanded.

“Your shoe?” he asked sweetly. “But you gave it to me, surely it is mine now. You‘re supposed to try it on, and when it fits we can live happily ever after.”

She glared at him. “Fine. Keep the bloody thing, it’s too big for me anyway,” she added, crushing his mock fairy tale. “But I’m telling you, if you drop it anywhere near, or on me, I will personally gut you and use your intestines for laces.”

He winced. “Are all princesses this crude?”

“No. Just the best ones.” She flounced into the kitchen, smirking when her boot thumped down behind her, far too late to have actually struck and done any damage. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, Smith!” she shouted towards the ceiling.

“I’ll keep practising then, shall I?”

“Only if it takes you far, far, far away from here.”

“I’m wounded!”

“You will be,” she promised darkly, and set about making her morning cup of tea.

*

Much to Jez’s relief she was left alone for breakfast. Once she had drunk the last of her brew, she went in search of Sir Derek, and found him slumped across Lux’s left paw. The dragon was cuddling him like a doll. Both were snoring, and seemed happy enough in their bizarrely blissful world. Rolling her eyes in defeat, Jez resigned herself to sharing both dragon and castle with the knight, and headed outside again.

The biggest plus of Derek hanging around was that his charger would be staying too. On the watch for King and the pesky squirrels, Jez crept to the stables and greeted her own horse, a light, pretty strawberry roan known as Cherry. Despite the cute appearance, Cherry was a demon in horse shape and enjoyed nothing more than trapping innocent hostlers and stable boys inside with her, while she debated whether to bite or stamp. Jez adored her, though Cherry didn’t often feel the same.

Next to Cherry the silver charger was a doddle. It might look mean and be a beast to ride, but it couldn’t hold a hoof to Cherry’s devious mind. Fetching the silver horse’s tack, Jez made a quick inspection of the stable and frowned to see a pile of saddle bags in one of the empty stalls. There was also a blanket and a sword. Beside it slumbered a little tabby cat. Clearly King had decided to make the straw his new home. While it meant he was out of the castle, Jez didn’t celebrate yet - he was still on its grounds.

Much to her surprise she found only two horses in residence, and realised that either King didn’t have a mount of his own - highly unlikely for a squire - or he was out riding. She deduced it was the latter, and tacked up Sir Derek’s horse with all the speed and deftness of a girl well used to Cherry’s gnashing teeth. It was so swift in fact that the charger was left with a faintly bemused look on his face, clearly unsure of what had just hit him.

“Never mind, eh,” Jez said kindly as she led him outside. “You’ll learn, once you see me go near Cherry. Nothing could possibly be as mean as her. Not even a drunk unicorn.” Because every knows a unicorn can’t hold its drink. Complete lightweights - just two shots and they’re anybody‘s. Give them four and they’ll take anybody.

“He better not cross my path when we’re riding,” she grumbled to the silver steed as she mounted and attached her quiver to the saddle. “Or I might have to put in some extra target practise.”

Having learned that she was tenacious in the saddle the previous day, the charger sighed heavily and didn’t even try to buck her off. Together they clattered over the rickety drawbridge and headed for the forest beyond.

“What say you to some squirrel baiting?”

The horse’s ears pricked forward and they trotted merrily beneath the trees.

*

Jez returned at lunchtime to find the castle empty - even Lux had gone outside to enjoy the spring sunshine. Bemused, she shrugged her shoulders and headed upstairs with a mop, bucket, dustpan, brush, broom and all manner of cleaning things. She even tied her hair up with a scarf before getting to work.

The trouble was, even though she didn’t like him, she couldn’t feel comfortable knowing King was sleeping in the stables. She didn’t care if it was warmer in there, and no doubt it was a lot nicer than inside, but the rules of a good hostess were niggling at her. She had been taught well by her servant friends, and knew everything about being a decent housekeeper. They had also told her how to deal with guests. Diplomats had taught her that too.

She might not like her guests, but that was beside the point. While someone was staying with her, invited or not, it was her duty to look after them.

Sneezing, coughing and scrubbing for all she was worth, she eventually cleaned out two old rooms, which she had barely known even existed before. During her time in the castle she had confined herself mostly to the central keep, where the roof wasn’t so bad and the wind wasn’t so cruel, but she was damned if she was going to clear out anywhere near where she slept just to listen to Derek snoring. King probably snored too, though she preferred not to find out.

With such thoughts in mind, she had ventured into the south wing, which was the least damaged part of the castle beyond the keep. On the second floor she had found a few fairly serviceable rooms, and decided to put her guests in there. She didn’t much care if they chose to sleep in the beds she provided or elsewhere - say with a dragon, or in the stables - but she knew she had to at least make an effort.

“I hope this won’t give them ideas,” she groaned, hauling a bucket of warm water up the steps to throw along the corridor, and wash away the worst of the dust. The last thing she needed was for either Derek or King to start treating her like a skivvy. Truthfully she didn’t mind cleaning, nor even getting down on her hands and knees and scrubbing at dirt, but that didn’t mean she would do it for someone else. She had been taught well by her father’s servants, but she was no servant. They had to do as they were told, to distinguish herself from them she would only do what she wanted to. It was an ancient law of nobility: Doeth nothing, unless thee feeleth liketh it.

Once the dust was gone and the stone floor was practically gleaming, she began scouring the wing for bits of furniture. More dust and a few rat skeletons later, she hauled beds, cabinets, chairs, desks and sideboards along her clean halls and into the freshly aired rooms. Puffing a little, she trotted back to the keep and down into the cellars where there was a linen store. Most of the stuff inside was a bit rotten now, and the rats down there had more meat on their bones, so the sheets were chewed in places, but she managed to find some half decent stuff.

Jez dragged it all into the kitchen garden and began washing it. While doing that she decided to fetch a few of her old gowns and her own bedding as well. Might as well make the most of this productive mood, she thought, and whistled while she scrubbed.

It was when she had just finished and was carefully arranging things to dry that she realised she was being watched. Tired, but pleased with herself, she brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face and turned towards the castle. Standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, King observed her work.

He didn’t react when she looked at him, so she raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful. “You really aren’t like normal princesses, are you?”

She chuckled, wondering if he realised he had paid her a compliment, and pulled the scarf off her head. “Err, not really, no.” She scratched her head and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

King stared, pointed, opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead there was a strangled, high-pitch squeaking.

Confused, Jez raised both eyebrows. “What?”

King pointed to her head, then her hands, then back at her head again, still incapable of speech. He shut his mouth and shook his head, still staring.

Jez frowned, then looked down at her hand. In her grip was a mass of rippling blonde hair, still attached to the headscarf. Her mouth twitched. “Oops.”

“You… you’re - not - hair - blonde… what?”

She cackled and unwound the scarf from the wig, before throwing the blonde tresses in his direction. He squeaked and jumped back from it, making her laugh harder.

Scowling at her, King nudged the wig with his toe and realised it wasn’t alive. Satisfied it wasn’t going to savage him, he picked it up, smiled wryly and finger combed the silky strands to remove the knots. “I thought all princesses were blonde.”

Jez shrugged, running her fingers through her shoulder-length crop again of straight, mousy brown hair. “Yeah, well, I figured I should play up to the stories for a bit, but long hair is such a pain - as is dyeing it. A wig was much easier, except it itches. Guess I forgot.”

King shook his head, then handed the wig back to her. “Didn’t think you looked right as a blonde anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How kind,” she drawled, and accepted the wig back, before throwing it on the kitchen table. Then she went back to check how wet her first batch of washing was. All day the sun had been warm and the wind fairly strong, so she was pleased to find most of it dry. She gathered it up, aware the whole time that King was watching. He could at least offer to help, she thought, annoyed. When she trudged past him into the kitchen again, he followed.

“What are you doing?”

“Washing. What’s it look like?” she demanded, feeling irritable as she sorted out bed linen from curtains.

“I had no idea you were so domesticated.”

She didn’t even bother to look at him. “You don’t know me at all, Master Smith, so why should you be surprised?”

“Because you’re a princess.”

“Oh? Know many princesses, do you?” she enquired, gathering up her newly sorted pile and carrying them out into the hall towards the stairs.

Still not offering to help, King trailed after her. “Actually, yes, I do.”

“Of course you do.” She flashed him an insincere smile, not believing him for a moment.

“Believe what you will.”

“Thank you for your permission for me to have my own mind,” she grumbled, tripping over a sheet and stumbling onto the second landing of the south wing.

“Don’t mention it.” He caught hold of her elbow, preventing her from hitting the ground. “But you have to admit that few princess know how to - Whoa.” He broke off with a whistle as Jez pattered along the sparkling corridor. “Look at this place!”

Pleased that he was finally impressed by something, Jez hid it well and ignored him. She bustled into the first room and dumped half her load on the table, before flapping out the sheets in a business-like way. While King watched, she deftly fitted the sheet onto the huge four-poster bed, and bashed a few pillows into place. The overall effect was slightly spoiled by the creases, but she didn’t let that faze her. Humming softly beneath her breath, she stroked the sheet flat, then added blankets and a coverlet, before moving onto the curtains.

“Where did you learn all of this?” King asked, the awe still in his voice.

Jez climbed onto the desk and began looping the curtains into place. “From the palace servants. They did most of my raising, so I learned all I could from them.”

“And your father let you?” he asked, voice incredulous.

She snorted, turned on the desk to face him. “My father forgot I existed most of the time. If he saw a well dressed brat hanging around the housekeeper he probably thought it was someone else’s. The only time he really remembered me was after he had sacked my latest batch of tutors and maids, and suddenly realised he would have to hire some more.” Jumping to the floor, she scooped up her things and moved off into the next room. “Close your mouth, Smith, you’ll catch flies.”

His teeth clacked together. “But what about -?” He stopped himself and smiled ruefully as he followed her. “Never mind. Your mother was Temperance, I don’t know why I even considered asking.”

She smiled and set about making up the second bed. “I told you my upbringing was unconventional.”

“Guess it explains why you are as you are,” he murmured, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“It sure does that,” she agreed, thumping the pillows. “Well, and the fact that I get bored easily. Things were never boring with the servants, because I could follow a different one each day and learn new things. They were pretty good with me, now I think about it. Must have been a nightmare, and they could hardly tell me to go away.” Stroking the coverlet flat, she clambered onto the table to do the curtains, and found King already attaching the far side one. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you. I take it these rooms are for Sir Derek and myself.”

She shrugged. “You can keep sleeping in the stables if that’s what you want, but as hostess I have to make some effort.”

“Even when you don’t like who’s staying?”

“Especially then.” She grimaced. “I spent a bit of time with diplomats as a child. It’s the ones you don’t like you have to be nicest to. By all accounts it annoys them. So, straw or four-poster, I really don’t mind, but at least you can’t say I didn’t provide you with somewhere to sleep.”

“You make it sound so appealing.” He chuckled, jumped down and held out a hand to help her from her own perch.

She ignored him and jumped down on her own. “It isn’t my job to sell the place. I just live here.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, thank you for providing me somewhere inside. It was very… good of you,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care.

Jez smiled. “Just doing me duty, squire.” Tipping an imaginary cap, she headed back down the stairs again, and welcomed the return of Lux.

King followed a little while later, and Jez thought he’d probably been over the rooms more thoroughly to decide whether he wanted to give up the stables for manners. It had surprised her how much she had said to him, then again, she mused, it wasn’t as though she’d had many people to talk to over the past three years. She realised it was hardly surprising that she nattered away to the first available ear. Beggars really didn’t have any choice. When he finally returned to the hall, Jez was presenting her scaly friend with her day’s haul of former-pesky squirrels.

“Where did they come from?” he demanded as Lux licked her jaws and popped the first morsel into her mouth.

“I shot them this morning, when I went riding.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I went riding this morning and I didn’t see you.”

Jez raised her eyebrows. “So? There’s more than enough riding room about here for us not to bump into each other. What’s the big problem anyway? They’re only squirrels - and pests at that.”

“Why, what do they do?”

She fought down the urge to laugh. Her guess had been right, he was a pesky squirrel in human form - he even sympathised with them. “They invade the kitchen, leave messes everywhere and get into the food stores. Not to mention they terrorise my cats.”

“What cats?” he demanded. “I haven’t seen a single cat since I arrived.”

Lux burped, and picked off a second squirrel.

“Anyway, they’re a staple part of Lux’s diet.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill them!” he shouted, his eyes blazing. “How dare you shoot innocent creatures because they made a mess of your filthy kitchen.”

“It wouldn’t be filthy if it wasn’t for them!” she shouted back. “And I dare because I can.”

“Typical, bloody, uncaring, snooty noble,” he snarled. “You simply don’t care for anything but yourself, do you?”

“I care for Lux,” she told him quietly, trying to control her simmering anger. “But if you would prefer to let the dragon go hungry, I’ll let you be the first down in the morning.”

As this sank in, King licked his lips a little nervously and looked up at the huge, sprawling dragon, daintily nibbling squirrels off the string. “It still isn’t right.”

“What are you, the squirrel ambassador or something?” she snorted, then turned her back on him and headed for the kitchen.

“Hey!” he shouted, chasing after her. “I wasn’t finished.”

“Well, you keep going then, but you’ll have to excuse me,” she yawned pointedly, “because I’ve got things to do.”

Standing in front of the kitchen door, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “Aren’t you even the least bit sorry that you killed all those squirrels?” he asked in a low, menacing voice.

“No.” She met his stare and determinedly didn’t feel daunted. “I was hunting, and not for no purpose either, but for Lux. See, I did it for a reason. Anyway, there’s hundreds of the little buggers around here. They’ll be all right.”

“But what about the ones you killed - they’re not going to be all right, are they?”

“Do you eat meat, Master Smith?” she asked pleasantly, remembering that he had raised no objections to the chicken they ate last night.

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Then you have no right to question me so. Or do you only eat animals raised to be slaughtered and eaten?” She raised her eyebrows. “Come, Master Smith, I wish to hear all about your high-minded morals.” Feeling vindictive, she smiled faintly. “They amuse me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not very nice, are you?” he murmured.

“Who said I was? Now, if you don’t mind, Smith, I have things to do. You are in my way. Move.” Even though she didn’t command him as such, she did raise herself up and use her regal voice.

King’s jaw tightened, then he stepped aside and bowed mockingly. “Of course, Your Most Majesticness.” Straightening, he looked her over coolly. “Perhaps I was wrong after all. You are just like all other princesses.”

She smiled tightly. “Make up your mind, Master Smith. I begin to think you incapable of reaching a simple decision.”

“Oh, I’ve made a decision all right,” he muttered as she passed him. “I know all I need to in order to make my mind up about you.”

“Funny,” she remarked, turning in the doorway. “I have made my mind up about you too. Goodnight, Master Smith. I won’t invite you to dinner, in case you object to the way the carrots were grown.” She shut the door in his face and threw her anger into making herself something to eat.

Ripping the feathers from a partridge, she scowled. Sufferance was right, she just knew there would be a lot more suffering ahead. It would be too much to hope for to think he would be gone in the morning. He’d only leave if he liked her. Somehow she didn’t think she was his favourite person.

“Good. He’s at the bottom of my list too,” she told the wild garlic as she crushed it and added it to the boiling water, sneezing as the smell wafted up in the steam. “Perhaps it’s time for me to move on.” Tapping her spoon on the copper cauldron, she started making a new set of plans.