They had been traveling together for a week when an old wooden way sign informed them that Aólane lay ahead. Farra, quite a way ahead of them, had paused at the waymarker to investigate; by the time the human travelers had reached her, she was waiting for them, ears perked.

"That's our destination," said Diarmán, nodding at the sign. "Just a day more, I reckon, before we're there."

"I might be a peasant, but I can read," muttered Uachi. He pulled the reins, drawing his horse to a stop near the sign and ignoring Diarmán's tight-lipped stare. He and Diarmán were riding abreast, Ealin on the Faelán lordling's horse and Uarria nestled before Uachi in the saddle. She had fallen asleep, her cheek against his stomach and her fist tightly clenched in a strap on his coat. In the first couple of days, Uachi had ridden with Ealin, but they had begun to trade off after that. Ealin had been sullen but obedient, and Uarria was happier when she could ride with Uachi.

"How are we going to do this?" Uachi asked.

"Carefully, and soon." Diarmán looked at Uarria thoughtfully. "Does she trust you, Uachi?"

"I should hope so.." Uachi passed a hand over Uarria's unbrushed curls.

"She's a biddable girl, but she might be frightened."

"Just what is it you intend to do?"

"Keep her safe. Do you remember my brother Padréc?"

Uachi leveled a sardonic stare at Diarmán, meeting his gaze without comment until the redhead cracked a grin.

"Right. How could you possibly forget? Well, I may not be able to do as he did, but I've a few tricks up my sleeve. We'll keep yon princess safe by turning her into something other than a princess."

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know." In a tone of exaggerated consideration, Diarmán mused, "What do you think, Uachi? A hawk? A starling? A ferret?"

"You're going to turn her into an animal?"

"More or less. It's glamour, my dear northman."

"I thought you said you couldn't turn into animals?"

"I can't." Diarmán laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I can do a lot of clever things, but all by way of my flute. Have you ever met a hawk who could play a tune?"

Uachi frowned. "You aren't turning Uarria into an animal."

"All right." Diarmán shrugged. "Suit yourself. Go ahead and traipse into a council with the High Queen of Narr with a princess dangling under your arm. What could possibly go wrong?"

They rode on in silence for a while. At length, Uarria woke, and she breathed a sigh against Uachi's chest before slowly sitting up. She still looked exhausted. His heart turned over, wishing that he could simply magic her away to her home. The thought of her safely nestled in Matei's arms kept him going. Soon.

"Uarria," he said. When she looked up at him, he smiled. "Would you like to play a game of pretend?"

He sensed Diarmán's eyes upon him—Diarmán's, and Ealin's too. She had not said a word this whole long day, and very few words for many days now. She'd retreated into a silence like the gathering of a thunderstorm, and he could feel something brewing there, some terrible, vast, unavoidable breaking, and he tried his best not to think about it.

He would be ready for her when the storm broke. It did not matter. Everything he'd had with her had already ended, along with any chance at happiness he had ever had.

Uarria smiled at him. Still, she would not speak, but she nodded her head.

"Did you know our friend Diarmán is a mage?"

Uarria's smile flickered.

"Don't worry. He's a good and friendly mage. He has a magic trick to show you, and it will be excellent fun. But you must be brave again. Can you do that?"

She frowned at him, curiosity gleaming in her gray eyes.

"We'll see his trick later tonight when we've all settled down to camp."

***

That evening, as the four of them arranged their bed rolls, Ealin with her hands still bound together, Diarmán withdrew his sword from his belt.

Uarria turned toward him. There was an expression of curiosity on her young face, and Uachi wondered how he should feel about that. Was it good that she didn't fear a man with a sword? After all, the violence she'd seen had not, to his knowledge, been wrought with a blade. Uachi reached out and placed his broad hand on her shoulder blades. "It's all right, firefly," he said.

But Uarria did not seem to need comfort. Diarmán grinned at her and winked. He spun his sword in his hand, and in the blink of an eye, it was a flute instead, spinning artfully through his fingers.

Now the little girl was grinning, too. She looked up at Uachi, obviously delighted, and he gave her an encouraging smile.

Diarmán set his flute to his lips and began to play. The music floated through their encampment, as enchanting and beautiful as it had been on the other occasions when he had played for them—but this time, his eyes were on Uarria and no one else.

Uachi busied himself with portioning out their supper, keeping an eye on Uarria as she listened to Diarmán's song. She had started with an expression of happy surprise, which had slipped into a look of pure pleasure, but now, she was beginning to look sleepy.

Then, Uachi dropped the bowl he had been holding. Right before his eyes, between one blink and another, Uarria had begun to change. As he watched with mingled fascination and horror, her face changed shape, her nose and mouth lengthening and whiskers sprouting from her rounded cheeks. She leaned forward, and as she did, a tail sprouted from beneath her skirt. Her ears lengthened and became pointed, her nails sharpened and lengthened into claws, and her threadbare dress began to split down the back. She was growing; she was twice the size she'd been, then three times, and then she stood as high as his waist would be when he got to his feet. She turned her head to regard him with lambent yellow eyes.

She looked so very like Farra. Shock had turned Uachi's stomach to ice. He looked toward where Farra had lain just a moment before, curled up in the long grass. She was standing now, her hackles raised and her tail puffed out, staring at Uarria with wide eyes and scenting the air.

Uarria looked at Diarmán. She was breathing heavily, her flanks rising and falling. Whereas Farra was night-black, Uarria's fur was the charcoal gray of an adolescent shadowcat. She gave a huff of distress through her nostrils and moved backward, her tail twitching with agitation and her ears flat against her skull.

"It's all right, Uarria," Uachi said. "It's all right." The princess turned toward him, opening her mouth as if she meant to meow, but no sound emerged. He pushed himself up to his feet and moved toward her, one hand outstretched. She stepped back, scenting the air, her wide yellow eyes fixed on his face. "It's all right."

When he laid his hand on Uarria's head, she closed her eyes. He knelt at her side and put his arms around her, at a loss as to how to comfort her aside from the same way he would comfort Farra; he stroked her head and her back, murmuring soft reassurances. "You're safe. This will keep you safe."

On the other side of the Faelán lord, Ealin had stood with her bound hands drawn in tight to her stomach. She slowly sank down to her knees. "What have you done to her?" she asked in shock, the first words she had spoken that day.

"If you breathe a word, Ealin—" Uachi began, but Diarmán cut in.

"Don't worry, Uachi. I think we can trust her."

Uachi frowned at him. "She is a flight risk. And a risk of much else, too. We need to keep her quiet until she can fall upon the emperor's justice in the Holy City."

Saying those words sent a lance of pain and panic through his breast. Fall upon the emperor's justice...And what justice would Matei have for Ealin when he had blamed his own best friend so readily for the disappearance of his daughter?

He was an honorable man. A merciful man. But in this, Uachi did not think Matei would compromise. Uachi knew better than most how the archmage's cruelty could shape a person's life. But to learn that Ealin was his daughter and to confirm that she had been bringing Uarria to him to turn her over like a gift—his sympathy had run its course.

Deep down inside his heart, a small, dark, whisper said, Do not take her all the way back. Have done with her here in the wilderness. You will be more efficient and more merciful than an executioner playing to a crowd's bloodlust.

Matei will not have her executed. He will not do that to her. Nor to me. He'll—

Imprison her for life in that dank and reeking dungeon.

Send her away to a labor camp somewhere on the Giant's Back.

Have her publicly whipped.

Kill her. He'll kill her with his own bare hands—with the magical weapons within them.

"Then trust me," said Diarmán. He winked at Ealin, who turned her face away, refusing to meet his gaze. "I can play more than one tune."

Goodness, gracious. Our mischievous Faelán lord has a trick or two up his sleeves, doesn't he? 

Uachi has encountered a lot of the unexpected since he left the Holy City, but this has got to take the cake. What do you think, friends? Will Uarria's furry disguise keep her safe, or is this just going to lead to more trouble?

Let me know in the comments! Thank you for reading!

xx Mina