The door of Wyrn’s bedroom slammed open.

“Good news! Good news!” Mother gushed. “We have a secret weapon.”

As the morning had barely come, Wyrn thought to go back to sleep.

“None of that. Lazy bones. None of that.”

A strike on the ass had him sitting up. She was serious. She was also talking at the speed of an arrow.

The princess agreed to the name Vadde after much arm twisting and begging. She and Shaza were the best of friends. She also seemed very amicable despite the situation. And since she’d apparently been running away, perhaps everything could be forgiven.

Wyrn’s eyebrow rose with each fact as his mother hurried around the room, uprooting clothes and opening curtains.

And that wasn’t all. Whatever town the princess was from, she was fond of bitters.

That was surprising. And his disbelief was obvious when his mother saw his face.

“Well, what do you mean?” she demanded

Once her hands settled on her hips, Wyrn debated arguing with her. The bitters were used to help increase one’s appetite. Usually, it was given to the wounded in an effort to make them eat no matter what condition they were in.

Assuming his mother’d been right, the fact that the princess was able to eat that meant she was probably playing at being wounded. Wyrn’s spirit crossed.

His mother dragged him to stand. “Get up. Get up. She’s already eaten all the roots I could find. You must go find more.”

She shoved his clothes in his hands and he pouted. “But it’s quite a ways into the mountain. Aren’t you afraid I’ll be attacked by a bear!”

Mother’s scowl closed in as the woman seethed, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be attacked by me?”

“Fair point,” he muttered.

He gave off a sigh and fought to get into his clothes. Once he pulled his shirt down, he was stunned to find the woman in near tears.

“You don’t care at all…? About what you’ve done?” Her lips trembled and she said, “At least she’s absolved you of stealing her away but that doesn’t remove the fact that she was near starved.”

Wyrn had no defense, so he lowered his gaze and muttered, “I’ll get the ingredients.”

“Good.” She held his face and smiled. “Because you are going to make it.”

It took all morning to dig up the forest for a good amount. More than once, a sound had him picking his head up to scan his surroundings. Other than a few ant bites, he made it back home by noon. Shaza walked away from the princess’s hut, chewing fondly despite carrying an empty tray.

“What’s gotten into you then?” she asked.

The fact that she spoke to him at all was amazing. Hefting his bag, Wyrn ducked his head down and sought out his mother in the kitchen.

He stepped into the house to the sweet aroma of food. It took no time to reach the source, but a wooden spoon slammed down on his hand before he could share himself some.

“No. That’s for dinner. And I’ve made more than enough to give Vadde a plentiful amount.” Mother turned back to cleaning the vegetables, complaining to herself. “But honestly, I do not understand that girl. The bitters are the only thing she’ll eat well. Some days the food’s polished off so clean the wooden bowl shines like a shield. But on others, she barely has a bite.”

The exasperation in her voice broke Wyrn’s heart. This was a bother for everyone.

“I’ll—I’ll start on the bitters,” he promised.

“Thank you. And make it extra strong. I accidentally made it that way the first day and she nearly ate her own fingers off to get to the bottom of the bowl. So do not be stingy about it!”

Extra strong? Wyrn wouldn’t wish that on his own enemy. But as he stared at his mother’s back, he debated what to say or do. He should confess. He should ask Mother to help him bring the princess to her lover, Prince Orm, or at the very least, escape.

“She was running away to a lover then,” he whispered under his breath.

He hadn’t meant for his mother to hear it, but, as he sat down at the table and started to unpack the root, a hand held his shoulder.

His mother was gentle as she sat beside him.

“Wyrn, I want to apologize to you.”

The way she bit her lips meant he wasn’t going to like what she had to say, and he didn’t.

He jumped to his feet in protest upon hearing what she’d told him. “What gave you that right!”

“Well, I had to.” Mother stood with him, at a loss. “But the midwife at least cleared you of guilt.”

“Guilt,” he repeated the word back to her and she realized what she’d said.

He didn’t have to verbally say how much she’d hurt him.

“Wyrn, this is also for you, for your benefit.”

She wouldn’t say it, so he decided to instead. “Because no one could ever want me for me, so there must be something terrible afoot.”

Usually when he made these claims, she’d at least do him the courtesy of saying that wasn’t true.

Today, however, she flew into a temper.

“This is a woman. This is a grown, real, physical woman we’ve never seen or heard about! A woman who could be mistreated in all manner of ways. Mistreated even before you ever met her and then who can we convince you hadn’t touched! You’ve said it yourself. But stop with the self-pity for but a moment. We are Jaffo. And that’s what people think when they think of the Jaffo!”

Her voice drowned all life in the kitchen. The pots no longer bubbled, the birds outside no longer went about their noisy mischief. Life ended, leaving a sterile void in its place.

Wyrn wouldn’t have known; he didn’t pick his head up to witness it.

Finally, the woman calmed. “Be reasonable. It is not you I do not trust,” she admitted. “The business with Shaza still stings.”

Groaning, Wyrn sat to rummage through his bag. “Not this again.”

“But for her to play with you in such a way. Matters of the heart are so important. I believed everything she said. And to be that devoted and then run off with Bonn—”

“They didn’t run anywhere,” Wyrn said, grumbling. “They live but a few yards away.”

Her huff said she didn’t appreciate the joke. “Your brother was wrong. I understand. But it was wrong.”

“No. It wasn’t wrong,” Wyrn said once the purplish plants landed on the table, “it is life.”

He hadn’t blamed Shaza. He hadn’t blamed Bonn—who’d just lost his wife in childbirth.

He did, however, blame his father for having the nerve to get him a wife such as she. Bonn was a force—a popular force who could keep up with a forceful wife. From the start, Shaza could find little to like about Wyrn. That was obvious.

But as Wyrn separated the roots from the plants, he wondered if he should risk making the bitters milder. Bonn was settled but the thought of losing yet another woman to him did lurk close in the corners of his mind.

One look at the root and he decided. He would make it mild. Perhaps his mother was mistaken. No normal human being should be able to eat anything this strong.

He sang a new tune some hours later after a tearful princess was whisked away. She’d barely eaten any of his bitters. And she cried when Bonn had left her to the presence of his revolting brother.

Sitting in the kitchen, aided by a candle, Wyrn attempted the bitters one last time. He made it twice as strong and went to see about presenting it to the princess.

Perhaps her pallet was simply more sophisticated than theirs.

The night air was sweet at least, despite the bowl he carried. He made it as far as the princess’s little hut before frantic chatter reached him. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one with rescue in mind.

Bonn, a tray in hand, tried to reach for Shaza who shook him off. Whatever they whisper-fought about, Wyrn wasn’t sure. He slipped into the shadow of the little house, waiting to see if either would approach.

Finally, Shaza slapped the tray out of her husband’s hands and shouted with a stomp, “I am your wife!”

When she broke into tears and hurried away, Bonn stared after her.

The way he finally sighed and picked up the food made Wyrn curious. He expected the man to take the dirty mess to the pigs, which he did. But what was more surprising was that he made no further attempt to approach the princess’s door.

It was the dead of night before Wyrn found himself by the pigsty as well, lobbing the bitters into the fray of little muddied pink bodies. They didn’t eat it for long which was understandable.

Wyrn felt sorry enough for them to go and seek out his basket of apples. More than once, he debated trying it. Finally, he thought of his mother and instead threw a few in.

He’d have to feed them in the morning, but he left some close to the pen so that he wouldn’t forget.

The next day, Wyrn awoke early and made a hearty breakfast. The princess’s absence disappointed him. Still, he didn’t let it show as he gathered her food and made his way out. His mother’s pleased smile fueled him on. She’d already given him an earful about the bitters which she remade and put on the tray as well.

Wyrn had his misgivings about offering the princess directly; she could hardly stand the sight of him.

Still, he’d made a promise.

Upon knocking, Shaza exited. “Wyrn? What have you got?”

But Wyrn attempted to step past her.

“You can’t do that,” she said, blocking his path. “What if she were naked?”

“Why would she be naked in the middle of the morning?”

His next attempt was equally fruitless. “Well, indisposed. And besides,” Shaza began, big brown eyes heavy with heartache, “would she really take it from you?”

Wyrn forgot how to breathe.

Shaza barely caught the tray as he shoved it into her arms and walked away. He muttered an excuse about feeding the pigs so that was where he ended up.

His pulse raced. He was still reeling from the shock of her words, but why? They weren’t surprising.

After hiding here for a moment, he resolved to go about the day’s chores. Something caught his eye. The apples he left the day before were gone.

Nothing was strange about that at first…until he found the eaten apple core. There were three more by the door as well.

He puzzled over that strange find until Shaza made her way to the pigs.

She jumped at the sight of Wyrn. “You’re still here?”

Never mind her tone, Wyrn rushed to collect the tray. Perhaps he could judge what the princess liked based on what she ate.

What she ate was…nothing. Save for the bowl of bitters which was gone, there was simply nothing eaten.

One of the breads had a bite. The soup looked somewhat sampled but…that was all.

Disappointment stole Wyrn’s intended line of questioning. He was too embarrassed to suffer Shaza’s presence, so he walked past her and out into the morning.

For two more nights, he left apples out and found their cores the next day.

That meant one thing—fairies.

So Wyrn dragged a small trap of jutting spikes near the pigpen, hid it under some hay, and went to sleep.

He’d show them. He wouldn’t even come to retrieve the damn thing right away either. Let it bleed to death for all he cared.