"Open the gates!" called the sentries, seeing Petra streaking up on Samuel. She clattered across the drawbridge and into the courtyard, pulling up short when she was met by a wall of guards blocking her access to the stables. Oh, great.

"Princess." Walter, the captain of the guard, stepped forward. "The king has requested your immediate presence."

Petra made a face.

"Am I in trouble?"

"I reckon so, m'lady," said Walter apologetically.

Petra sighed. She mostly liked Walter—he was like an uncle to her, leading his men well while still not being afraid to crack a joke now and again. He also never hesitated to tell her the truth, which she valued immensely. But in this case, the truth wasn't so pleasant.

"Are you alright, Princess?" he said, eyeing her injuries with great concern as she dismounted. "Merlin's beard, what happened to you!?"

"I'm fine, Walter," she said, as a page led Samuel off towards the stables. "Just a little bruised. We were attacked in the forest."

"Attacked!" Walter's hand flew to his sword. "By whom?"

"Not whom. What. It was a wolf."

"In Talemath Forest?" Walter's shock only registered briefly before he grew serious. "Don't worry, m'lady. I'll request permission to organize a vanguard to track the beast down. We'll make sure it's safe for you the next time you ride."

"I'm not even sure there'll be a next time," muttered Petra. Walter smiled gently.

"If I may be so bold, princess, might I suggest you call for the physician?" he said. "Get some poultice for those cuts. But first, you'd better see his majesty. We both know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Alright." Petra turned to go, but stopped as she felt Walter's gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Perhaps I can delay the vanguard a bit, m'lady," he whispered, winking at her. "Who knows? We might just find ourselves one man short."

Petra flashed him a small smile, before she headed up into the palace towards her father's study. As she entered, her father, King Peter, was seated behind the great wooden table, his face unreadable. Petra held her head high, determined not to show her nervousness. There was a long silence, but she knew she had to wait until she was spoken to.

"Petra," he said finally, his voice firm, yet quieter than she had expected. "Do you know why I require you to marry?"

"Father, I'm sorry," said Petra in a rush. "I admit, I snuck out again, and I know it was wrong, but—"

"I asked you a question," said the king. Petra bit her tongue.

"Because it's customary for princesses to marry?" she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"That it is, but no. You must marry for the sake of the kingdom."

"To preserve our family's bloodline."

"Not merely that. Each of us is but one half of a coin. It is pivotal for a ruler to find his other half."

"Father, please; I don't mean any disrespect, but aren't I strong enough to be a good ruler?" she said.

The king paused, before he finally said,

"Yes, I believe you are."

Petra was taken aback. Her father rarely praised her for anything.

"Were I to allow it, Chiraeon would have a fine king in you, my daughter. But it is extremely unwise for a ruler to be alone. For a king, his queen is his closest confidante, and vice-versa. The wisdom required of a ruler is the wisdom found in realizing one cannot rule alone. For the good of the kingdom, you must marry before you ascend the throne."

Petra stared at her father. He had never told her this before. Could she dare to hope that he was finally treating her like more than just a woman? Silently, she wondered when the axe would fall.

"You are strong, Petra. But your strength is misdirected. You are rebelling when you should be channeling that strength into searching for a man worthy to rule by your side."

"But Father, riding and swordfighting—they're what I love to do!" said Petra desperately. "I know they're not fitting for a lady, but if someone is worthy to rule with me, then shouldn't he love me for me?"

The king's voice hardened. "Your passions feed your rebellious spirit," he said. "And a ruler with a hot head is unfit for the throne. This is why you must tame that wildfire spirit of yours! This is why I will not stand for this disobedience! Is that understood!?"

"Yes, Father," said Petra. The axe had fallen. "But please—"

The king held up his hand. "You shall not go into the woods again. I shall instruct the stable hands that Samuel is not to be released, and you shall attend to your lessons and your embroidery as you are supposed to. Is that clear?"

"Wait, Father!" said Petra, approaching the table. "May I please have permission to go just once more? I promise, I'll complete my lessons and everything, just like you want, but I have to go into the woods tomorrow."

"Out of the question. I have given you my final word."

"But I have to go—Father, I think I may have found—" Petra hesitated slightly, but then resolutely plowed on. "I think I may have found someone I could marry."

The king raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who may that be?"

"His name is Bryan. I met him in the woods today. He's the reason I have to go back tomorrow. I promised I'd meet him."

"And who is this Bryan? The son of a Count or a Baron, out for a hunt?"

"No, Father. From the looks of it, he lives in Talemath."

"A peasant boy?" said the king incredulously.

"It doesn't matter that he's a peasant!" she said quickly. "He's the kindest person I've ever met in my entire life. You should see the way he tends to the animals in the forest!"

"Petra, surely you are more intelligent than to let your emotions cloud your judgment," said the king, running a hand over his thick brown beard. "Kindness or no, a peasant could never make a suitable king! He has had no experience whatsoever in the ways of the court. He wouldn't have the first inkling about how to rule a kingdom!"

"I don't care!" said Petra, her eyes bright with determination. "He's got ten times the compassion of anyone I've ever seen at court, and what good king doesn't have compassion on his people? And he's brave—Father, he saved my life today!"

She pulled aside her cloak to reveal the dried blood from the claw marks of the wolf on her chest. The king's brow furrowed at the sight.

"We were attacked by a wolf. It was about to kill me, but Bryan fought it off with my sword, then threw himself in front of me to shield me! He was ready to sacrifice his life for me, and he didn't even know I was a princess. If those aren't the qualities of a good king, I don't know what are!"

Her father frowned. "While the lad would seem to possess a noble spirit, unfortunately, politics is far more than just compassion."

"He saved me, Father," she said. "I promised I'd go back tomorrow and bring him here to the castle. He deserves to be rewarded!"

"And so he shall be. But a kingship shall not be his reward. And you shall not return to the woods tomorrow, particularly not if there are wolves now roaming in Talemath. I will see to it that a vanguard is sent out to slay the beast."

Petra opened her mouth to protest, but the king cut her off, his tone final.

"I will make sure the lad is rewarded handsomely. But, in the meantime, you shall do as I command. Do you understand, Petra?"

She knew it was useless to argue. She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, looking her father in the eye.

"All I know is, I promised him. And you always say a ruler should keep their word. So whatever I may do, know that it's for that promise, and not for the sake of rebellion. Good night, Father."

Without being dismissed, she bowed and left the room.

The next morning, at the edge of the forest, the Captain rallied his troops.

"Alright, men!" shouted Walter. "You know our mission: find and slay the wolf that threatened our princess! Fan out; we'll leave no corner of the forest unexplored. I'll see none of you back before nightfall, unless you're bringing me the beast's head on a platter; is that clear?"

The men gave a rousing cheer, before they all galloped off in different directions. Finally, only one small knight on a black horse was left standing before him.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation, soldier?" said the Captain, winking. "You have your orders. Be off!"

Petra briefly raised the visor on her helmet so that he could see her smile of gratitude. Then she quickly turned and galloped off into the trees.

She rode a little ways to a lake, where, as promised, she found her horse waiting for her. She tied the reigns of the black horse to the tree, concealed her armor under a nearby bush, then vaulted onto Samuel's back and took off. She'd never be able to thank Walter enough for this. It was thanks to him that the vanguard had "mysteriously" found itself one man short that morning. She also suspected that he had bribed the stable hand into releasing Samuel, the same hand who would later be coming to put on the armor and ride back in her place.

After a long while, Petra spotted the little cottage through the trees. Reigning in her horse, she dismounted and knocked on the door, smoothing out her brown tunic.

"Come in," came a voice from inside. It definitely wasn't Bryan's—it must be one of his uncles, she thought. She stepped inside, and her brow furrowed. The house was unusually dark; it felt cold and unlived-in. Where was everybody?

"Hello?" she called tentatively. "Bryan?"

"Princess Petra. What a pleasant surprise."

Her heart leapt into her throat as she suddenly caught sight of a shadowy figure across the room.

"Who's there?" she said, her hand jumping to her sword. "Show yourself!"

The figure chuckled darkly. "As you wish."

A green light suddenly began to glow in his hand. As it illuminated his face, Petra gasped in horror.

"Who are you?" she said. "Where's Bryan?"

"So sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but I'm afraid we are quite alone."

"What did you do to him!?" she gasped.

"Oh, nothing yet, princess. Though, trust me; I have great plans for the boy…plans for which I will require your help."

"What? What do you mean?" she said.

The sorcerer said nothing, but slowly advanced towards her, his eyes glinting.