A Questionable Quest

Chapter 8... in which the prince is late...twice

By the time Prince Donovan had arrived, I'd come to see why the old seer had complained. I checked my pocket watch each time a horse rounded the bend.

4:39. The rider galloped past, without a second glance in my direction.

4:52. The next horse stomped decidedly in a puddle of water. I turned and my cloak caught the brunt of it, but a few drops of muddy water dribbled down my sleeve. I shouted "hey!" and kicked a pebble down the road (but the rider was long gone).

I thought the third rider might be him but he, much like the first, galloped past and disappeared around the nearest bend. (I groaned in impatience -- I'd come to appreciate any rider who didn't carve a path straight through the nearest puddle.)

It was 5:03 when the fourth and fifth riders came, trotting unhurriedly around the curve down the road. Both clinked and clanked like knights in full armour -- which they were, I noted as they drew closer. In full armour, that was.

The one nearest to me had his helmet and sack tied to the horse (the poor thing looked ready to topple over). He was holding a torch and scanning the forest.

Prince Donovan.

Maybe. Probably.

I mean, it had to be, right? They couldn't have found my fake kidnapping note already, could they? And if they did-

"Ho! You there!" It was the same voice I'd heard in the arena the day earlier -- the older one. It came from the helmeted knight on the dark black horse. The other one swung his head in my direction, eyes quickly finding the light of my own torch.

I hunched over again, further hiding my face beneath the dark confines of my hood. I said nothing.

Might as well play the part, right?

The knight who'd removed his helmet quickly slid off of his horse. He approached me, his steps confident and loud.

What was the practical purpose of armour that your enemy could hear from miles away? My armour was quiet and just as-

"Are you the hag?" asked the voice. Definitely Prince Donovan, my brain affirmed. I ignored the shiver of awareness that slid up my spine when he spoke. "The one to deliver my quest?"

Not a hag. A seer.

I said nothing after a moment. After all, I was supposed to be mysterious. Then I spoke, in the raspiest voice I could, "you're late."

"Yes," the Prince nodded regally. "My apologies for keeping you waiting, fair hag. I was-"

I didn't let him finish. Instead, I recited...

"Beware the curse that traps her there,

She with silver eyes and golden hair.

The one who seeks your help to live

Is now the one who cries "forgive!"

Your quest to save a maiden failed

At a lier's hand, instead, prevails

Follow her who seeks to hide

And not this rhyme, This queste not thine."