“No!”

  “It’s true.”

  “The princess? Really? Smoking?”

  “I’m given to understand that is the least concerning thing she has done,” Conquestorov informed Paulav, his feathers ruffling a little in perhaps just a little bit of pleasure as the caravan rocked its way down the road.

  “Truly? What else has she done?” Paualv darted a look over at the magical duck, his bum on the edge of the driver’s bench.

  Ben kept his eyes wearily fixed on the road ahead; the magic minion duck sitting quite comfortably in his lap.

  “It’s said she’s already shared her bed with multiple men for one thing. First with a young man she was fond of for a year, then another who was your typical rake of a nobleman—My supposition is that she went through a ‘bad boy’ phase if you will—”

  “We’ve all been there,” Paulav interrupted with a knowing nod.

  “Then there was a sweet nobleman to follow who she would boss around, and the latest I heard was a friend she exchanged favors with before she ultimately got up and left court.” Conquestorov finished.

  “My goodness! And she is only twenty-one?”

  “She is indeed. Princess Alice being absent from court since her father’s death has certainly made everything quite dull,” Conquestorov lamented.

  Ben wondered when the bloody pixies were going to arrive.

  Filif had been reluctant to set off for the task that morning, even though he had agreed, and Ben was forced to wonder just what was keeping the little sprite by their sides when he didn’t seem to get anything out of being around them.

  “Is your master often away at court?”

  Paulav’s question for Conquestorov drew Ben back to the present.

  “He was when the old king died. Less so in recent years now that the monarchy has stepped back and a diplomatic government has taken over,” Conquestorov responded breezily.

  “That surprises me,” Paulav tilted his head over his shoulder. “I’d think after such a big change your master would want to be more involved.”

  “Mm. Well. He is a newer noble. It wasn’t until the prince—now our king—made it one of his conditions for reducing his power over the kingdom that my master was granted his title and land.”

  Ben frowned. “One of the conditions of the new king giving up having power was that Callex Earhav become ennobled? But why?”

  Conquestorov didn’t say anything.

  Ben barely resisted gripping his hands into fists. Holding the duck helped. There was a stink about that odd historical fact that reminded him of the rumors that Callex Earhav may have had something to do with the death of the former king…

  “When was it that the legalization of magic and magic people came up? Before or after talk of your master’s ennobling?” Ben kept his tone mild.

  Conquestorov cleared his throat. “I cannot say I know precisely. Now, Benthrop, tell me, are you looking forward to the wedding?”

  The shift in topic made Ben clench his jaw, but he forced it to relax when he reminded himself that no good could come from shaking a magic duck and demanding it give him answers.

  “It’ll be interesting to go to a wedding. I’ve never been to one,” he responded curtly.

  “Really? Never?” Paulav asked in surprise.

  “Nope.”

  The merchant leaned forward eagerly. “Well, you are in for a wonderful time! Though, I must let you know, witch weddings are different than most. For one, they don’t exchange rings—Rather, not just rings. They exchange a circlet on their head, a necklace for the heart, and then a ring. To keep the weight of their vows on their minds, in their hearts, and in their actions. The ceremony must be conducted by a witch or warlock, and there must be witnesses both magical and non-magical.”

  “Huh. So I guess they can’t elope,” Ben noted idly, his gaze wandering over to the trees.

  “Witches and warlocks are not permitted to elope, no,” Paulav responded gravely. “When a witch gets married—even if it is to a seeb or dodder—it is treated very seriously, as they must agree to not let their love get in the way of the laws that govern a witch or warlock’s use of magic. They must wield magic with respect to the balance it exists for, and if they have children, they must instill the importance of responsible magic wielding as well.”

  “It sounds like witch-warlock weddings aren’t as fun as seeb weddings,” Ben thought aloud as he saw something shift in the woods, but after a quick scan found it was just Wolf. The raven seemed to have found a tasty mouse.

  Paulav was practically bouncing in his seat. “ Seeb weddings are lovely too, of course! But with witch weddings there are always enchantments that will absolutely dazzle you. The music is like none other you’ve heard before, the wine never stops flowing, and the food always contains herbs that make you feel better than ever. Ever since magic folk got to live freely without fear of the king’s army, their celebrations are always magnificent.”

  Ben shrugged. “Guess I’ll see.”

  “With your big magic scent I’m certain you will attract a great many young women,” Conquestorov speculated with a note of humor.

  For no good reason, Ben felt his cheeks grow warm, and the memory of Spidena’s hair running through his hands flashed in his mind.

  Out of the corner of his eye Paulav shooting him a curious look, but he chose to ignore it.

  “What type of lady is your preference?” Conquestorov wondered conversationally.

  “Blondes. Tall ones that are physically strong,” Ben answered in a near bark. He hadn’t actually given the question any real thought; he’d only come up with Spidena’s antithesis to make a point to Paulav.

  The duck gave a rumbling chuckle. “I’m certain with the wedding taking place in a farming community you will have no trouble finding such a woman. I confess, I’m wondering with it being a magic gathering whether or not I might find another being such as myself. A minion made of magic…” Conquestorov trailed off. “My master is brilliant, but he is busy, and so I find I am alone for much of my days. Traveling and meeting people such as yourselves and telling him about it is the only joy I have but when I have no one to speak with that truly understands, it is lonely.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Ben had mixed feelings about the vulnerability the magic duck was giving in that moment, and it made his fervid hope for Filif’s reappearance renew itself.

  “If you do find another minion like yourself,” Paulav began slowly. “Would you be able to leave your master?”

  “No, but… perhaps I could visit them and have another creature who might empathize with my existence.”

  Paulav looked at Ben, his blue eyes wide and pleading.

  Ben gave his head a slight shake at the question he knew was on the merchant’s mind.

  Can’t we spare the lonely duck?

  Paulav looked utterly heartbroken, which made Ben’s discomfort increase.

  The horses whinnied and stopped abruptly, forcing everyone to look ahead and see none other than Filif standing on the road.

  Ben leaned forward, readying himself to toss Conquestorov into a swarm of teethy pixies, but then he locked eyes with Filif. The sprite weaved his head back and forth, his mouth pressed together sadly.

  Cold dread filled Ben.

  Filif hadn’t been able to bring the pixies.

  With panic already settling in, Ben’s mind lurched into possible solutions for the situation. Spidena couldn’t stay hidden in the caravan forever… She probably needed to relieve herself in the woods. Or eat something. Or complain about something.

  “Conquestorov, do you have to tell your master everything you see?” Paulav interrupted Ben’s spiraling thoughts.

  Filif was already off hopping around the caravan toward the back—presumably to climb aboard.

  “Of course. He has created me with magic, has instilled me with intelligence, and has paid greatly for me to serve him. To not serve him as he intended would disrupt the balance of magic, as he has paid for my existence in full,” Conquestorov responded, his tone filled with reverence for his creator.

  Paulav’s face was full of conflict. “Even if what you report to him leads to people getting hurt, you’d tell him everything?”

  “Yes.” There was no room for negotiation in Conquestorov’s reply.

  Ben stared at Paulav.

  “What do you think your master is going to do to the Fey Way when he finds out where it’s been moving and that Pesch Goldbry is tied to it?” Ben asked, hoping to help Paulav realize that they might have to personally dispose of the duck.

  “Oh. He’ll probably kill Pesch Goldbry and acquire The Fey Way for himself. It is a good business, and the first of its kind. Though that fairy cook needs to work on his manners, and will most likely be fired—The nymph is a delight so I can foresee her continuing to handle the desk.”

  “Hear that Paulav? Obbie will get fired and someone’s going to die,” Ben called out.

  The merchant was visibly starting to sweat along his brow as he was faced with a terrible moral conundrum.

  Ben looked down at Conquestorov. “You’re very honest. I do like that about you.”

  Conquestorov leaned his head back to peer up at Ben. “Why thank you. Though I believe I should be suspicious of you both right now.”

  “Us? Nooo.” Ben, pinning the duck’s wings to his side with his left arm, proceeded to jump off the side of the drivers bench. Luckily the horses hadn’t resumed their journey yet.

  “Are you going to try and kill me?” Conquestorov asked conversationally.

  “That had been the original plan, but now I have to improvise.”

  “Ah. If you do try to kill me, I will have to summon my master.”

  “Will he know who wanted to kill you?”

  “No. He will simply know I am in grave peril. But I shall tell him upon his arrival of your nefarious plot.”

  “And have you summoned him yet?” Ben pounded the door to the back of the caravan while he waited on the answer.

  “I am about to.”

  “Hold that thought.”

  The caravan door swung open, revealing Filif, and in the shadowy back, Spidena.

  “Change of plans. Spidena, might I see your bag?” Ben called lightly.

  He watched her eyes go round as she stared at the duck in his arms, then at her bag that was sitting on the small table inside to her right.

  “Why?” Both her tone and face were nervous.

  “Bag please,” Ben repeated while trying to not reveal the fact that he was more than a little nervous of his new haphazard plan.

  In the end it was Filif who did as Ben asked, and brought the bag over while smiling happily.

  “Thank you.” Ben flipped open the top of the bag with his right hand, and then in one quick motion, shoved the duck in the bag and closed the top.

  “I-I BEG YOUR PARDON! BENTHROP! REMOVE ME AT ONCE! I AM GOING TO BE SUMMONING MY MASTER INSTANTLY!”

  Ben fixed his attention on Filif. “Do you know of any other magical creatures that could eat the duck?”

  The sprite blinked up at him blankly for a second, then nodded.

  “Are they hard to find?”

  Filif gave a half grimace.

  “Whatever is willing to eat that duck—aside from pixies—is dangerous,” Spidena interjected her gaze boring into her closed magic bag. The look on her face suggested she felt as though she were trapped in a living nightmare.

  “Right. Then our options are to face off with the duck’s master…” Ben started. “Find something even more dangerous to kill him, or, “Ben stared at Spidena earnestly. “Maybe you figure out a way to make Conquestorov forget who his master is.”

  Spidena’s jaw dropped as she blinked rapidly.

  “And before you tell me I’m an idiot and why none of those ideas are good ones, I’m going to tell you to suggest something better. So. What’s it going to be?”