A Word in the Breeze

The Minister's Mistrust (Just Cursed II)

Prince Florin sat dutifully at the throne and listened to the minister.

"Today is the one hundredth death anniversary of the late King Rodney! Shall we host a public dinner party, Your Highness?"

He nodded vaguely, looking at his fingernails, wondering if he was due for a manicure.

"Yes, yes, sure, Bob, whatever you think appropriate."

Bob-the-minister's eyes twinkled over his glasses, brimming with practiced admiration.

"Why, how thoughtful, sire! Indeed, your father would have been proud!"

"Yes, I'm sure he would have been. Now, tell me, Bob, are there any princesses worth inviting to this... this death day party?"

"Princesses, sire?"

"Yes, Bob, princesses. I have grown lonely, with such a huge palace to roam in by myself..." He demonstrated with the wave of an arm the long empty Hall, gleaming golden. His voice echoed dismally.

He lowered his grey eyes to the quivering minister. "It would do good to find a partner, don't you think?"

Bob didn't think it would do good at all, but he didn't dare say so. He seethed inwardly.

Prince Florin sensed the lack of enthusiasm.

"Or it could even be a commoner, Bob, I'm not picky." He caressed a lock of smooth brown hair. "Anyone stunningly beautiful would do..."

... Bob decided that he would invite no such kind of person. Many a gullible prince had put himself in the arms of death the same way.

Being carried away by beauty was exactly what he had spent his life avoiding, and hence Bob was quite a proud bachelor. Women, he had decided long ago, were not to be trusted.

But never, not on his own life, would he disagree with the Prince himself...

Ignorant of this reaction, Prince Florin was having thoughts of his own.

"Say, why not go to the fortune teller and have her predict when I am to be married? That should be a laugh. Hang her if she says anything further off than next month. Off you go."

Bob stood undecided. "But the party, your Highness?"

"Yes, yes, it shall be held this evening. You may make arrangements. But first, bring back news of the fortune teller."

"Very good, sire." He bowed, and left.

~

The hut was old, decrepit, and basically a small wooden cave. There were no windows to speak of. The only light came from a single candle that gave the crumbling, peeling walls an eerie yellow glimmer.

The witch was warty and bent and ancient, not a pleasing sight at all. Spiders crawled on her mangy witch's. hat. A mole wobbled on her nose. Her eyes were closed on a vision of events happening in a palace not so far away...

She opened her eyes, green and tired eyes, and smiled, a green and rotten smile.

So the minister would be paying a visit, would he?

Well. She would be ready.

And with hardly any effort at all, she transformed.

~

Bob stumbled down the uneven path, mumbling angrily to himself.

"Complete disregard for the gravity of the occasion... If he was my son, why, I would never have tolerated such behaviour. Princesses, he asks. Or even a commoner. As long as she's stunningly beautiful, he says. I'll lay a stunningly beautiful slap on him any day now... If he weren't his Highness, the Prince, I'd – Ohh!"