Morning broke slowly over Einsway.
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the thinning clouds and spread across the village walls, turning the rain-soaked rooftops gold. Roosters announced the new day from fences and sheds, crowing like military commanders as their flocks marched into the muddy streets in search of breakfast.
A few sheep wandered between the houses, while several pigs and cows moved together with such suspicious coordination that they appeared to be conducting business of their own.
Most of the villagers remained asleep.
Only the two gate guards were awake—one stationed at the northern entrance and the other at the south. Both stood beneath dripping hoods, sniffling miserably as they warmed themselves in the weak morning sun after a long, wet night.
Inside the Dancing Dragon, Lily stretched beneath a thick fur blanket.
Warmth surrounded her.
She released a small, satisfied yawn and instinctively shuffled closer to the solid body beside her. Her head rested upon a strong arm, while something firm and steady pressed against her side. Whoever it was smelled faintly of soap, smoke, and travel.
Lily considered opening her eyes. Then decided against it.
She was comfortable, which was rare enough to deserve careful preservation.
Her memories of the previous evening returned in scattered pieces: food, laughter, a hot bath, Reinheart's teasing, Art's ridiculous confession—and the brief, embarrassing kiss she had given him without understanding Albion's apparently complicated kissing laws.
Her face warmed beneath the blanket.
Slowly, Lily opened one eye. Beside her Art lay, still asleep. His golden hair had fallen messily across his forehead, and one arm remained beneath her head as though he had spent the entire night making certain she did not roll from the bed.
For once, he did not look smug. He looked peaceful.
Lily studied him in silence, strangely fascinated by how different he appeared while sleeping. Without the confident grin and sharp remarks, he looked younger—almost ordinary.
Almost.
She raised one hand and cautiously poked his chest. It was solid. She poked him again, still solid.
How does boy become this hard? she wondered. Does Reinheart make him carry rocks all day? Maybe he eats swords.
Her fingers drifted toward the edge of the blanket as she tried to determine whether the rest of him was equally strange.
Art's eyes opened.
"What are you doing, Lily?"
She froze.
For several heartbeats, neither of them moved. Then Lily withdrew her hand and adopted the innocent expression of someone who had never committed a crime in her life.
"Nothing."
Art glanced down at her hand, then back at her face.
"You were inspecting me."
"I was checking if you alive."
"By poking me repeatedly?"
"Very advanced medical method."
Art's mouth twitched.
Before Lily could retreat, his arm closed around her waist and drew her closer.
She let out a surprised squeak.
"Art!"
His teasing expression disappeared as he looked down at her more carefully.
"How do you feel?"
The concern in his voice caught her off guard.
"Fine."
"Are you dizzy?"
"No."
"Any pain?"
"Only emotional damage from questioning."
Art ignored that. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead, then watched her eyes as though searching for some hidden sign of illness.
Lily's cheeks grew warm again.
Yesterday, she had collapsed in front of an entire room. Worse, she had cried against him and begged him to help her.
The memory filled her with shame.
In her old life, she had almost never asked anyone for help. Depending on others meant risking disappointment, and showing weakness meant becoming a burden. Bruce had always been the person expected to endure, protect, and solve the problem.
Lily had continued living by the same rule.
At the lake, every creature depended upon her. If the garden failed, she fixed it. If predators came, she fought them. If the animals were injured, she healed them.
There had been no one else.
Then, for one humiliating evening, she had failed completely—and Art had carried her through it without complaint.
She lowered her face against his chest.
"I am fine," she said more quietly. "You no need worry. I stronger than I look."
His hand settled gently upon her hair.
"Are you certain? You do not sound very convincing."
"I am convincing."
"You collapsed yesterday."
"Temporary tactical resting."
"You cried yourself to sleep."
"That secret information we not speak of."
Art began stroking her hair, slow and careful.
"If something is troubling you, tell me. I will not judge you."
The kindness in his voice nearly shattered the fragile wall Lily had just rebuilt.
For one dangerous moment, she wanted to cling to him and admit everything: how lonely the lake had become, how afraid she was that Mama and Papa Rob would never return, and how exhausted she felt from constantly pretending she needed no one.
Instead, she clenched her fists.
She lifted her head and forced herself to meet his eyes.
"No. Yesterday was only small weakness. It will not happen again." She puffed out her chest with renewed determination. "Soon I become rich and powerful. Then you ask me for help."
Art raised an eyebrow.
"Soon?"
"Very soon."
"And how do you intend to accomplish this?"
"First, I go home."
His expression changed.
"Home?"
Lily pushed herself upright and sat near the edge of the bed.
"My parents might return while I gone. Maybe they already waiting. And Mister Terminator has government responsibility, but he cannot manage lake forever." She frowned thoughtfully. "He become too powerful without supervision."
"You are truly leaving this morning?"
"Of course."
Art sat up beside her.
"You could remain with me."
Lily glanced at him.
"I can protect you," he continued. "We could search for your parents together. You would not need to travel alone, and you would certainly eat better."
"That last part very tempting."
"Then come to Camelot."
Lily stared at him.
Art spread his hands as though the answer were obvious.
"You could travel with Reinheart and me. You would see the capital, meet people who might recognize your mother's description, and perhaps learn more about your magic."
"And become your sidekick?"
"Companion."
"Sidekick with polite name."
"A respected assistant."
"Still sidekick."
Art sighed.
"We could leave Reinheart behind occasionally, if his scars frighten you."
Lily's eyes narrowed.
"Reinheart not frighten me."
"He frightens most people."
"I brave."
Art smiled.
Lily folded her arms.
"And you still suspicious. Art not real name."
"It may be."
"What person names child Art? Then every time someone speaks about painting or statue, you turn around."
"In fairness, most people do turn when I enter a room."
"Hmph. Stupid answer."
Art leaned closer.
"Perhaps I would tell you my full name if you agreed to travel with me."
Lily's eyes widened.
"That bribery."
"It is an incentive."
"I no become companion just for name. You become my companion."
Art considered this with exaggerated seriousness.
"I am not certain. Healers traditionally support warriors."
"Who says?"
"History."
"History written by warriors because healers too busy keeping stupid warriors alive."
His smile widened.
"And warriors with enormous swords generally take the lead."
Lily's jaw dropped.
"Take that back."
"No."
"I am leader."
"Prove it."
Lily narrowed her eyes.
Then, without warning, she turned and shoved both hands against his chest.
Art allowed himself to fall backward onto the mattress.
Lily climbed onto her knees above him, planted her hands against his chest, and looked down with victorious satisfaction.
"What about now?" she demanded. "Who is winning?"
Art folded his hands behind his head, and said nothing. He merely watched her with an infuriatingly amused expression.
Lily maintained the stare for several seconds. Then became painfully aware of how ridiculous she looked.
Her face heated.
Art's smile deepened.
"Hmph!"
She sprang backward, planted both feet against the mattress, and flipped neatly from the bed. She landed upon the wooden floor with her arms spread for balance.
Art sat up, looking genuinely surprised.
Lily straightened proudly.
"Ninja victory."
"You fled the battlefield."
"Strategic withdrawal after complete dominance."
"Of course."
She marched toward the door before he could say anything else.
"I am leaving. Thank you for food, room, bath, help, and all other expensive things." She hesitated, then added with great seriousness, "I pay you back later with berries or something."
Lily glanced over her shoulder, cheeks faintly pink.
"But no kisses this time. Albion kissing laws too complicated."
Her black cloak hung from a wooden peg beside the door, now dry from the fire. Art's enormous sword rested against the nearby wall, looking nearly as tall as Lily herself.
She pulled on the cloak, adjusted the rawhide pouches around her waist, and checked that her rusty knife remained secure.
Behind her, Art rose from the bed.
"So that is it?" he asked. "You intend to walk back alone?"
Lily tied the cloak high enough that it would not drag across the floor.
"Yes."
"What about my offer?"
"Rejected."
"You did not even consider it."
"I considered food."
"Camelot has excellent food."
Lily hesitated.
Art immediately noticed.
"It also has libraries, healers, merchants, musicians, and people from every region of Albion. Someone there may know about the White Spirit or your mother's northern homeland."
The thought pulled painfully at her. Camelot might hold answers. But the lake had already been without her for too long.
"I have duty," she said. "Garden needs care. Animals need president. Parents might return."
"Then allow me to escort you home."
"No."
"The road is long."
"I walk it before."
"You nearly collapsed."
"I rested now."
"There may be bandits."
"I go through forest."
"That is not safer."
"It safer for me. Bad people cannot catch me in trees."
Art stared at her.
Lily lifted her chin.
"You have already done too much. I cannot keep relying on you."
"That is not what I asked."
"I know." Her voice softened. "But I have to do this myself. I need prove I can survive. Then one day I become strong enough to help other people instead of always needing help."
Art's expression became more thoughtful.
After a moment, he crossed to his discarded cloak and removed a small leather purse.
"At least take this."
The coins inside clinked as he held it toward her.
Lily immediately shook her head.
"No."
"It is not much."
"It sounds like much."
"You will need money."
"I earn money."
"You earned money once."
"I am professional musician now."
"You collapsed during your first performance."
"Difficult opening night."
Art pushed the pouch closer.
Lily placed both hands against his wrist and firmly moved it away.
"Please keep it. I want do this properly."
"Poverty is not a test of strength."
"No, but doing everything because rich boy gives money also not strength."
His mouth tightened, but he did not argue immediately.
Lily looked up at him.
"I am grateful. Truly. But let me try."
Art slowly lowered the pouch.
"I understand more than you think," he said. "The reason I travel with Reinheart is because I am also being tested. I am expected to learn about Albion, confront danger, and become someone capable of carrying responsibility."
"See? Same."
"Not exactly. I travel with a master swordsman, horses, weapons, and money."
"Minor advantages."
"Considerable advantages."
Lily gave him a stubborn look.
Art sighed.
"Fine. But do not enter another village alone until you better understand how dangerous people can be."
"Most people not dangerous."
"Some are. Laws exist, but they are not always enforced, especially outside large towns. Children disappear. Travelers are robbed. People without families or documents can be exploited."
Old Man Al had warned her of similar dangers. Lily did not enjoy hearing the same warning twice, especially when she knew they were both right.
"I be careful."
"And allow me to visit."
She blinked. "Visit lake?"
"At least once a year. More often, if possible. I can bring supplies, books, tools—whatever you need."
Lily considered it.
The thought of Art returning with useful supplies was not entirely unpleasant. Still, she remembered their first meeting—and the suspiciously empty berry bushes he had left behind.
"Maybe," she said at last. "But next time, you ask permission before entering."
Art raised an eyebrow. "Permission?"
"Yes. Lake is sovereign nation. You cannot climb wall and invade whenever you want."
"I was not aware I had invaded."
"You stole berries."
"I sampled them."
"You ate many samples."
"They were excellent."
Lily narrowed her eyes.
"And you no touch food until I say. Especially berries."
Art placed a hand over his heart. "I shall respect the laws of your nation."
"You better."
"May I at least request diplomatic access to the strawberry fields?"
"Request denied."
"Then our nations may never know peace."
Lily puffed out her cheeks.
"Hmph."
She reached for the door, but before she could open it, Art caught her wrist.
She turned sharply, only for him to draw her into his arms before she could protest.
His embrace was firm, though not painful.
"Promise me you will be careful," he said.
Lily went still.
His voice held none of its usual teasing.
"I mean it. Do not take foolish risks merely because you are too proud to ask for help. If you are hurt, hide. If you are lost, find someone trustworthy. And if danger comes that you cannot defeat, run."
"I know how survive."
"Promise me anyway."
Lily felt his concern through the tension in his arms.
For reasons she still did not understand, this arrogant, troublesome boy truly cared what happened to her.
The realization filled her with warmth—and made leaving far more painful.
She returned the embrace, pressing her face against his chest.
"I promise," she murmured. "You stay safe too, my friend."
The room seemed to become strangely quiet.
Art's arms loosened slightly.
"Friend," he repeated.
Lily glanced up.
His disappointment was subtle, but she caught it.
"Yes. Good friend."
"I had hoped for a more impressive title."
"Maybe junior companion."
"Junior?"
"Still under review."
Art sighed dramatically.
"Very well. Let us see each other again soon, friend. Although I remain willing to discuss a promotion beyond friendship."
Lily's cheeks warmed.
She smacked his arm.
"In your dreams, buddy."
Art smiled.
"Frequently."
Lily froze.
Then puffed out her cheeks so fiercely they nearly became round.
"Hmph!"
She turned, opened the door, and hurried into the corridor before he could see the smile she was trying to hide.
Each step away from the room felt heavier than the last.
Part of her wanted to turn around.
She wanted to remain where the room was warm, the bread was soft, and someone else was willing to keep watch. She could imagine traveling beside Art and Reinheart, exploring Camelot, healing injured people, and commanding an army of chickens into glorious battle while Art swung his oversized sword at the front.
Perhaps she could return to the lake, collect Mister Terminator and a few trusted officers, then join them later.
The foxes could preserve the balance, probably. Unless Scar declared himself king. Or Sleemo stole the egg reserves. Or the rats launched another offensive.
No. She needed to return home first.
Besides, Art still had business concerning Duke Leo's missing daughter—his possible future bride. Following him everywhere might become awkward. Perhaps it would be easier if Lily finally cut her hair and dressed as a boy.
Then no one would think anything strange, right?
Still lost in thought, Lily descended the stairs into the common room. The Dancing Dragon looked completely different in the morning.
The tables had been cleaned, the floor swept, and the fires reduced to glowing embers. Only a few people remained.
In the corner near the stairs sat the same group of hooded men Lily had noticed the night before. There had been three of them then.
Now there were four.
One tall man sat awake, drinking water. A bow and quiver rested against the wall beside him. The other three appeared to be sleeping beneath their dirty cloaks.
They still looked like low-budget assassins.
Lily slowed as she wondered to herself, why had they remained in the inn all night? Were they waiting for someone?
But more importantly, the large innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an older woman with a severe face wiped the tables with a gray cloth.
Lily approached cautiously.
"Excuse me."
The woman looked around.
"I am Lily the Shining Star," Lily continued. "I sang last night. I came for payment."
Recognition crossed the woman's face, followed immediately by irritation.
"So you are that girl."
Lily frowned. "Yes?"
"The pretty little troublemaker."
Lily's eyebrows lowered.
"What trouble?"
The woman ignored the question and disappeared into the kitchen.
Lily waited beside the counter, her discomfort growing.
A moment later, the woman returned carrying a thick piece of hard white bread. She slapped it onto the counter and placed one copper coin beside it.
The coin bore the image of a lion's head. Lily stared, then looked at the woman.
"This is payment?"
"It is more than you deserve after the trouble you caused."
"I sang many songs."
"And started a fight that nearly destroyed the common room."
"I did not start fight."
"Take it or leave it."
Lily's hands tightened at her sides.
The woman leaned closer, revealing crooked yellow teeth as her mouth twisted into a mocking smile.
"Perhaps you should return upstairs and please your noble friend. I am certain he can give you a better reward."
Lily's face went cold.
For one furious moment, Bruce Redford rose within her with an entire vocabulary of words no forest girl should know.
Then the warning at the back of Lily's mind sharpened. Someone was watching her.
She turned slightly toward the corner.
All four hooded men were awake now.
Their faces remained hidden beneath their cloaks, but their attention rested squarely upon her. The tall man had one hand near the bow beside his chair, while the shapes of paired daggers showed beneath the cloaks of the others.
None of them had openly threatened her.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Lily's anger vanished beneath a colder, more familiar instinct.
Leave.
She snatched up the bread and copper coin, stuffed both into her pouch, and stepped away from the counter.
"Ungrateful brat," the old woman muttered.
Lily wanted to turn around. She wanted to throw the miserable bread back at her, demand proper payment, and explain in great detail exactly where the woman could put her single copper coin.
Instead, she kept walking.
Strength did not mean fighting every battle. Sometimes strength meant knowing when to walk away, and survival meant recognizing when four suspicious men were paying far too much attention to a lone child.
The moment Lily stepped outside, she quickened her pace.
The morning streets were nearly empty. Rainwater dripped from the rooftops, and the ground between the houses had become a thick mixture of mud and shallow puddles. Lily glanced over her shoulder several times as she hurried toward the southern gate.
No one followed, although that did not make her feel much safer.
Old Man Al was no longer on duty. Another guard stood above the gate, rubbing the sleep from his face. When he noticed Lily waiting below, he climbed down and opened the gates without asking any questions.
Lily slipped through and looked back one final time.
The village remained quiet behind her. No hooded figures appeared in the street, and some of the tightness finally left her chest.
She wondered briefly whether the men had been waiting for Art. The thought made her uneasy, but Art had Reinheart beside him. Between the two of them, Lily doubted there was much in Einsway capable of causing them serious trouble.
They would be fine, probably.
The gate closed behind her with a heavy wooden thud, and Lily began jogging down the road.
She was rested, warm, and filled with enough good food to maintain a steady pace. Once she had passed the village fields and entered the road between the trees, however, she heard the distant groan of Einsway's gate opening again.
A chill ran down her spine. Lily did not look back immediately. She simply ran faster.
Her bare feet slapped against the wet road, sending small drops of muddy water against her legs. She kept moving until the village had disappeared completely behind the trees.
The road was not empty, though it was nothing like the crowded highways she remembered from her old life. Around midmorning, a caravan of six wagons passed her on its way toward Einsway. The wagons were loaded with barrels, sacks, timber, and other supplies, while six armed riders guarded them from horseback.
Lily slowed to stare at the animals.
The horses were enormous. They moved with long, powerful strides, their coats shining in the morning light. Lily nearly wandered off the road while watching one particularly handsome brown horse pass her.
A little later, she crossed paths with a young man and woman riding toward the village on ponies. Both wore traveling cloaks and carried small packs, looking like adventurers at the beginning of some grand journey.
Neither pair paid Lily much attention. She kept her hood low and continued onward.
By midday, the traffic had almost completely disappeared. Lily had lost plenty of time admiring passing horses and wandering along the roadside to gather berries, but eventually the familiar stone bridge came into view, spanning the stream where it flowed beneath the road.
Relief filled her.
She crossed to the center of the bridge and stopped there, breathing heavily. Her legs ached, and sweat clung to her despite the cool air.
After climbing down beside the stream, she drank deeply, splashed water across her face, and returned to sit upon the edge of the bridge to rest, with her legs dangling over the side.
From here, the route should have been simple.
She only needed to follow the stream until she reached the waterfall. From there, she could enter the deeper forest and—assuming she remembered the way—continue home to the lake.
Lily looked back along the road toward Einsway.
Her first visit to civilization had not gone particularly well. She had earned one copper coin and a piece of bread hard enough to serve as a weapon. She had been cheated twice, insulted, frightened, and pushed herself until she collapsed in front of an entire inn.
Worse, she had cried, caused a scene, and revealed far more of herself to Art than she had ever intended.
Yet it had not all been bad.
She had performed music for the first time in this world, and despite everything, the performance had been successful. People had laughed, sung, and forgotten their troubles for a little while.
Perhaps she had made their lives slightly better.
She had also met Old Man Al, who had treated her kindly. Reinheart was frightening at first glance but seemed more like a stern grandfather than a monster. Robin had been strange, but probably not evil.
And then there was Art.
Lily decided not to think too deeply about Art. The suspicious boy had already occupied far too much space in her mind.
Most importantly, Einsway had taught her that civilization was not filled entirely with cruel people. Some were greedy. Some were foolish. Some were dangerous.
But some were kind.
After surviving her first attempt, Lily felt more prepared to face the outside world again one day.
She touched the copper coin through her pouch. One coin was not much. Still, it was one coin closer to a million.
Her first performance had also begun building her reputation—hopefully for the better. The next performance would surely be worth more. Eventually, people would travel from distant kingdoms to hear Lily the Shining Star, and she would demand entire rooms filled with gold.
Probably.
With her confidence restored, Lily prepared to leave the bridge.
Then she heard voices coming along the road. Men were arguing somewhere beyond the bend. Four men, judging by the different voices.
Lily's stomach tightened.
Through the trees, she saw four cloaked figures approaching.
She could not yet see their faces, but the height and shape of the tallest one looked unpleasantly familiar.
The low-budget assassins.
Why were they traveling down the same road?
Perhaps it was only a coincidence.
Lily did not intend to remain nearby long enough to discover the answer.
She slipped from the bridge, landed beside the stream, and hurried beneath the trees, and followed the water deeper into the forest.
The men's voices gradually faded behind her.
Only when she could no longer hear them did Lily slow to a walk.
The sun passed beyond midday as she continued beside the stream. Sometimes she walked. Sometimes she jogged. Whenever the water became shallow enough, she leapt from stone to stone while whistling melodies she had invented during the journey.
When boredom found her, Lily began creating new songs about dishonest innkeepers, criminal bread, and heroic chickens collecting overdue taxes.
The journey home felt easier than the journey into the unknown. The forest was familiar to her, even when the exact paths were not. She recognized animal trails, edible plants, and the small signs left behind by passing creatures.
As the afternoon wore on, she began encountering animals she recognized from the territory surrounding the lake.
A familiar squirrel watched her from high in the branches before racing away. Several rabbits vanished into the undergrowth as she approached. At one point, Lily was almost certain she saw Sleemo moving between the trees with her three fox kits following close behind.
But something was wrong.
Sleemo was not hunting. The fox moved quickly and nervously, repeatedly checking behind her as she led the kits away from the direction of the lake.
Lily stopped.
"Sleemo?"
The fox glanced toward her but did not approach. Instead, she disappeared deeper into the forest with her children.
A knot formed in Lily's stomach. Why was Sleemo taking the kits away?
She resumed walking, faster now.
Late in the afternoon, Scar appeared beside the stream.
The fox emerged from the brush as though he had been following Lily's scent. His fur was damp and untidy, and he seemed more agitated than she had ever seen him.
"Scar?"
He ran toward her, circled once, then darted several paces in the direction of the lake. When Lily failed to follow immediately, he returned and repeated the same movement.
His ears were flattened. His tail remained low. Everything about him carried alarm.
"You want me follow?"
Scar raced toward the lake again.
Lily hurried after him. Her exhaustion made it difficult to keep pace, but the fox repeatedly stopped and waited before continuing. Darkness had begun gathering beneath the trees when Lily slowed for a moment to catch her breath.
Then an unrelated horror struck her. Her mouth fell open.
"The lute."
Scar looked back at her.
Lily stared toward the distant direction of Einsway.
During the chaos inside the common room, she must have dropped the lute before collapsing. She had been so distracted by Art, the food, and everything else that she had completely forgotten to retrieve it.
Lily lowered her head.
"My first instrument…"
For several miserable moments, she considered turning back.
But Einsway was already far behind her, and Scar was clearly trying to warn her about something. Returning would cost at least another day.
With any luck, Art or Reinheart would notice the lute and keep it safe.
More importantly, something might have happened at the lake.
Perhaps Mama and Papa Rob had returned. Or perhaps the Naughty Lion's had found the cabin.
The second possibility filled her with dread.
She would find another instrument later. She could even build a better one, preferably with reinforced edges for combat.
The lake came first.
"Okay," Lily told Scar. "We go home."
She had barely begun moving when pain prickled across the back of her skull.
Lily stopped.
Scar froze beside her.
The sensation was not an injury. It was the warning her strange instincts sometimes gave her when danger moved nearby—but this time, it felt stronger than before.
Sharper, closer. Something was coming for her. Not for Scar, not for the lake. For her.
The forest had gone unnaturally quiet.
Lily slowly turned.
Behind them, the stream stretched for nearly two hundred paces before curving out of sight. Wet branches swayed gently above the water, and the fading sunlight flickered between the leaves.
For a moment, she saw nothing.
Then something green shifted behind the bushes near a fallen tree. Too tall to be grass. Too controlled to be the wind.
Lily's stomach turned cold.
Scar stared in the same direction, his body tense and his ears pressed flat.
Lily tightened the straps of her pouches and pulled the black cloak more securely around herself. She did not know whether the approaching danger was a bear, one of the hooded men, or something worse.
She had no intention of waiting to find out.
"Run."
Scar sprang forward.
Lily raced after him as fast as her tired legs could carry her, while behind them, something moved silently through the trees.