Time passed and Princess Cassandra emerged from the king’s chambers. She sought out Hoxley who was busy with Atticus, Morell, and prince Damron in feeding the babies using the jars, gels, and fresh milk.

  “Hoxley? My father would like to speak with you and the witch girl.” She said. Morell took the baby from the faun’s arms. Hoxley beckoned Siouxsie from the balcony and the pair followed Cassandra back to the chambers. The king and queen were back in their beds, each one looking exhausted and drained. Hoxley curtseyed and made a small bow while Siouxsie sheepishly stood behind her with her broom.

  “I’ve had to think.” Croaked the king. “If not for your intervention, we might’ve wasted away in our sleep. You…little witch girl.” he held his hand out to Siouxsie. “Don’t shy away from me. Take my hand.” Siouxsie did as she was asked but kept her eyes averted. “Is Siouxsie your name?” he asked.

  “Yes, your highness.” she said softly.

  “Young lady, I owe you and all your friends and kin a great debt for what you and the others have done. Ugnh” he grunted. “Had I… the strength…I would take a knee and ask for your forgiveness. But please accept the flesh is weak and that I ask you from my bed. The pain has lessoned some and I feel some strength returning but I would not have recovered this far if not for your brave acts and hard work to save us…all of us.”

  “Morell made the broth that’s healing you, my lord.” She said. “I only delivered it.”

  “The I shall properly thank him as well. If it would not be too much trouble, I would humbly ask for a second cup of tea to ease the pain if you could find it in your heart to forgive me for being so ignorant.” The brim of Siouxsie’s pointed hat raised enough to look him in the eye. Something of a hint of a smile spread across her lips. Her hands rooted around underneath her cloak and each fist came out with a small leather pouch that bulged at the seams.

  “I believe I have enough witch hazel and nightshade here to make a large full pot which might be enough for your court.” She said.

  “We would be oh so grateful for your herb magic.” Added the queen. “Thank you.”

  “Then I’ll take my leave to-“ Siouxsie said before she stopped mid-sentence. Her face became a mask of fright. Hoxley saw her face and became concerned herself.

  “Siouxsie?” What’s the matter she asked.

  “Something isn’t right.” Siouxsie panicked. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What is it?” asked Princess Cassandra

  “I have to go! I have to find Robert!” With that, Siouxsie forced the pouches into Hoxley’s hands and bolted from the room.

  On a hillside far away to the east, Robert grumbled and cussed as he sat in the tall grass watching the clouds. The dozens of clouds were equally spaced bit far apart like a legion of ships sailing off across a vast ocean to destinations unknown. Crying just a little, he sniffled and wiped his nose against his sleeve. “I wish I was going where you’re going.” He said to no one. “I hate it here. I wish I was planting flowers.”

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  “Do you now?” asked a voice from behind. Startled for not knowing someone was near, he twisted about to find a soldier standing far too close to his liking. He tried to snatch his broom from the ground, but before he could get his hand upon it, the closest soldiers’ boot pinned it.

  “Ah ah ah,” said the soldier wearing eastern kingdom armor. “Can’t have you flying off to warn the others, can I?” A short sword appeared from behind the man’s back and the tip swung about to hover inches from Robert’s nose. The broom was kicked aside, and he moved closer to stand over the witch. “Speaking of which, witch…” he laughed. “Where are the others of your little band?” Robert glared up at him with hateful eyes.

  “They’re dead.” He said, trying to sound convincing. “Your men killed them in a forest fire.”

  “All of them?” the man asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “Y-yes. All dead.” Robert repeated.

  “You’re a terrible little liar.” Said the man as two more soldiers appeared from behind his silhouette. “You should have told me just the non-witches. I might’ve believed that. Witches can outfly a forest fire. Take him.” Before Robert could get to his feet, the other two large men’s hands were already upon him, each one grabbing an arm and holding them out away from his body. The first soldier picked up Robert’s broom and inspected it before taking it over his knee and breaking it in half before haphazardly pitching both pieces aside.

  “My broom!” Robert yelped as he kicked and pulled against the men holding him. “That was mine, you miserable slug waste, you!” The lead soldier moved closer.

  “What’s that? That was your broom you say?” It’s hard to hear you with your hat pulled down low. Let’s take a better look at you, what do you say?” Robert tried to resist but couldn’t budge the slightest bit. His hat was yanked away and discarded before the same happened with his scarf. Each of the men grimaced with disgust. “Great…abyss.” The man spat. “Is that what you abominations look like under that black leather? No wonder you keep yourself covered and hide like bats in daylight. I’m tempted to cover you back up just so I don’t lose my breakfast.” Robert bucked and strained again but couldn’t get free.

  “I’ll show you your breakfast when I cut it out of your gut.” Robert cursed. “I’ll cut your bowels out and hang you from a tree with them you, worm licking toad wart.”

  “Ha! Look at the mouth on this one!” said the soldier holding his left arm. “I don’t think he likes you!”

  “That matters little.” Said the first soldier, holding the end of the blade close enough to Robert’s face that he had to turn it to the side to avoid the tip. “What we want is his friends, not this grotesque little scrap. I’ll ask you again and for the last time, where is the prince? I’ll settle for that four- legged monstrosity you’ve been travelling with.”

  “I’m not telling you anything you raggedy minstrel.”

  “You’re going to tell me where…” the soldier said, laying the blade across Robert’s cheek.

  “Get that rusty sword off me. It’s more likely to give me an infection than a death blow you brain stunted pig shit.”

  “Ha!” laughed the man holding Robert’s right arm. “This one’s out of his head and ready to be offed! Give it to him!”

  “Fine. Have it your way. I’ve never killed a witch before but there’s a first time for everything. Let’s see how you like your insides on the outside.” He pulled the sword back and was about to swing when a boisterous voice cut the air.

  “Ahoy there, good sirs!” said the happy voice. Everyone looked toward the west to see a one-horse cart stacked with goods cresting the hill with a lean man wearing a mustard-colored vest, short hair and a bit of hair around his mouth and chin. Loxo the pirate was driving a cart of stolen loot. “I say ahoy there, good sirs!” He smiled and waved. Taken aback by the thin man’s joyful approach and greeting, the first soldier lowered his sword a little. The cart rolled right up to them where he brought it to a halt.

  “Good day to you, fellows!” he bellowed. “Good heavens, what are you doing to that boy there?”

  “Who are you?” asked the soldier holding the right arm.

  “Ah yes, quite right you are! Introductions are in order! Loxor Santium Balthazar the Fourth at your service! Be careful with that sword there, you’ll cut someone!”

  “This is none of your business!” said the first soldier as he pointed the sword up at the pirate “He’s our prisoner! Be on your way before we take you as well!”

  “My! That’s quite a sword you have there, although quite a bit rusty for my tastes if I do say so myself.” Loxo quipped. “What you need is a new sword! Would you like a new sword? I have one right here you can have.” Before the first soldier could react, Loxo was already unsheathing his sword and with a quick flick of the wrist sliced the soldier’s forearm just above the hand wide open, causing blood to spurt where he’d severed the artery. The man screamed, dropped his sword and fell to his knees trying to clamp his hand over the wound. “Oh dear!” Look what I’ve done!” That’s terribly awful, I’m so sorry, I feel truly dreadful about all of this.” Loxo said as he leapt from the cart to stand with his sword horizontal at chin height facing the other two men. With a hard shove of the boot, he knocked the wounded man to the grass. “Now then, could interest either of you sirs in a fine sword? It’s rather sharp if you’ll look closely.” The two men backed away, keeping hold of Robert with him between them as a shield. “Are we taking hostages, now?” he asked. “That’s not a promising prospect for your friend here.” He said, holding the tip of his sword to the back of the neck of the man on the ground. “How about a trade? I’ll offer you the safe return of your friend here in exchange for that little witch. That’s fair, yes? One slightly wounded man in return for a distressed magic slinger? You don’t actually want him, do you? You haven’t touched his skin, have you? I have it on good authority that touching a witch causes one to grow warts and the skin to rot to the bone. The skin falls right off your hands!” Each of the men took a quick glance at one another before the one on the left arm let go to inspect the palms of his hands for warts.