The busy streets tumbled beyond Eliott. He tightened his hold on his horse's reins, keeping careful track of his position and the animal's temperament. Unlike the boy who got thrown off a horse all those years ago, the Eliott from now knew how to control it if it got spooked again. And it wasn't just that that changed.

He was no longer the puny boy who ran around in the palace, trying to escape an hour of lectures. As soon as he started seeing the effects of his job on the people outside the palace, as soon as it occurred to him that he could make a difference with his power and position, he began enjoying his duties.

It wasn't so bad if only it was made clear to him he could be able to help others have easier, or at least, bearable lives. There were so many things he could be striving to fix for everyone's sake it's a little bit of a shame he spent the first few years of his life running away.

Of course, there were still the grittier parts of the job, like attending political functions or discussing policy changes with his father's court of foggy old men or being pestered when he would formally look for a bride to continue the royal line. Those were the only times he envied his younger brother, Nico.

A smile spread from his lips. His little brother came to the world a few months after his twelfth birthday. There was a whole celebration for it. Lucky lad, Nico was. Not only was he named after the greatest King of Lezeris, Nicholas of Valoreise, he was also out of most of the limelight and fanfare expected of the King's children. He was a prince in blood and right but with half the expectations.

Not that Eliott was complaining, though. He loved to keep busy. It distracted him from a certain itch clutching the back of his brain.

It has been years since he had last heard from Edge. A long time since she last sent back Eliott's lark with a memento tied in its leg. Eliott had contemplated going on a journey to track her down but the plan fell out of place when he saw the real state of his people. Most of them needed stable incomes and other opportunities and Eliott was happy to work towards providing them those.

So, it tied him down to Rosewall. He couldn't leave, couldn't even step out of the front yard without some adviser or duke chasing him down. Every day, there was always work. A never-ending line of it always awaited him from the first hour he opened his eyes to the final one when he would close it.

If only he was Nico. He would have saddled a horse and searched for Edge earlier. He would have exerted more effort than the feeble attempts he was doing now.

Because as much as he liked to think everything was fine with her, the last time the messenger lark made it back to him, the memento he tied on its leg remained untouched and the bird started limping. Charred marks marred one wing and the faint smell of ash and cinders had been heavy on its feathers. It concerned Eliott for a while but, as expected, it faded to a memory in his head, to another tack he'd stick to his list of things to do but never would.

A sigh flitted from his lips. He dared not slump his shoulders, especially not now when he was astride a horse. From his left, Sir Geoffer eyed him from the side of his eyes. Eliott clenched his jaw and squeezed the reins. He didn't flick it, keeping his horse's pace steady.

It was early morning in Aldermere, the township under the Duke of Rosewall. Already, people bustled about in their business. It was the same scene of scurrying, scrambling, yelling, and yammering. Nothing was new, except maybe the train of interconnected carts bearing boxes covered with tarps and thin sheets.

Eliott knitted his eyebrows. What were those? He hadn't seen them before. He turned to Sir Geoffer. "What are those?" he casually pointed towards the series of carts. A team of two horses pulled it the opposite direction Eliott was going. The coach seated behind the horses had a bored look on his face as he leaned back and held the reins loosely. "Where are they going?"

Sir Geoffer, who developed sharper, hawk-like eyes and a little bit more wrinkles, turned to the carts. His mouth curved down into a deep frown. "Best not to mind that, Your Highness," he answered. His tone never changed, never gave any indication of what he was thinking. "Come, the Duke is waiting."

As a reply, Eliott yanked at the reins, pulling his horse to a stop. Sitting astride the regal animal gave him a view above people's heads, getting him almost eye-level to the boxes atop the carts. He squinted past the thin, beige sheets thrown over them. He was vaguely aware of Geoffer pulling up beside him, watching him watch the carts.

The sheets fluttered without the wind blowing. Eliott frowned. That could only mean one thing. Something alive was behind those sheets. Which meant they weren't boxes.

They were cages.

"Oi, gather 'around, ladies and gentlemen!" a loud voice called from the crowd. Eliott turned to the source to find a stubby man standing over a pile of crates stacked on top of each other. The chain of carts had also paused, the coach edging out of his seat to trudge towards the cages.

Heads turned around to the man. Some continued on their way but there were others who lingered, unable to contain their curiosity. Perhaps, Eliott was the same. He had to know what was behind those sheets.

"These creatures are gathered from the high mountains and the deepest of waters," the stubby man continued. For someone who carried no blow horn to amplify his voice, he could surely attract a crowd. "Come and see them in their exotic glory. We offer this opportunity to you for a bit of coin."

All around Eliott, the sound of clothes rustling and coins clinking erupted in a skittish cloud. He glanced at Geoffer and the manager subtly shook his head. "Let's go, Your Highness," the man said. "The Duke is waiting. His wife is particular about time."

Eliott heard Geoffer but the man's words didn't register in his head. "Never mind the Duchess," he said. He couldn't even remember what she looked like. "Something was inside those cages. There may be someone who needs our help."

To his credit, Geoffer didn't call Eliott delusional. "I am merely cautioning you to never deal with things you cannot change," he said. "This matter is..ah, controversial at its finest."

Eliott raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Before the manager could answer, the stubby man's voice boomed across the street once more. "Oi, we even have noble guests today! What a day of luck!" He waved his hands in the air to divert back the attention to him when the crowd swiveled to where Eliott and Geoffer sat astride their horses. "Come, come. Phil and I present to you the treasures of Lezeris!"

With a flutter, the sheets slid off the cages as one. And Eliott's breath hitched.

Cramped inside the cages were at least six people dressed in rags. Soot covered their faces and arms and caked in their feet. Then, he noticed the wings peeking from strands of matted hair, the curved horns, the scales, the tails, the fangs.

Horror engulfed what's left of his breath.

These were the fae.

"Look at this beauty!" the stubby man flitted to the first fae stuck inside the cage. He ran a hand down the side of her face. Even from Eliott's distance, he could see the fae shiver and shake with each touch. He couldn't fathom if it was from fear or disgust but it was enough to tell him she was suffering. "Taken from the mountains of Gertudra, this one can call on the mist and fog, making it look like warm spring mornings even when it's summer or fall!"

The stubby man cracked a grin. "Go on, darling," he dropped his voice but still loud enough for the crowd and Eliott to hear. "Show us a spring morning!"

He slammed a hand on the metal grates, startling not just the fae inside the cage but Eliott as well. Geoffer tapped his horse's flank and guided the animal in front of Eliott. "For the last time, Your Highness," he said. This time, his tone dropped into a warning. "Let's go."

Eliott couldn't muster the courage to flick his horse's reins and set it to a trot. He had to keep watching. He had to take this all in. For what reason, he didn't really know.

Something was just fundamentally wrong in all of this. He had to do something. He had to—

"What are you waiting for, wench?" the stubby man yelled. His hand slammed against the cage once more. The fae whimpered, edging backwards as far away as possible from her captor. Eliott didn't miss the blaze of fear burning inside her bright, amber eyes. "Cast the magic!"

The fae's lower lip quivered but she lowered her hands and closed her eyes. Slowly, a thick white haze rose from the ground. It snaked among the crowd, covering the legs of Eliott's horse. He reached out and ran a hand on the horse's flank to calm it down.

Gasps and polite clapping blew from the crowd.

"I'm not done," the stubby man continued. He moved to the next cage. This time, a small fae with bluish skin cowered inside. "This one could flood the streets with sweet water. Who wants to have a drink on this arid morning?"

The crowd surged forward, desperate to try the freebie they paid for. The stubby man slammed his hand on the grates once more. "You know the drill, darling," he grinned at the fae. "Get the water pouring."

"B-but I haven't been able to recover," the fae child whispered. The stubby man eyed the expectant crowd, panic and annoyance dancing in his features. "Last night, I—"

Before Eliott could react, the stubby man yanked the cage's door open. The hinges whined. The blue-skinned fae threw his arm over his head, shaking all over. Instead of stopping, the stubby man reached inside, grasped the fae on the arm, and yanked him out of the cage. The crowd parted when the man shoved the fae to the ground. The boy, who couldn't have been older than Edge when Eliott met her, curled to a ball.

A whip unfurled from the stubby man's hands. It must have come from behind his belt. "These people paid for your water," he hissed. "Make it now or things will get really bad."

Eliott hadn't realized his fists were clenching so hard until a stab of pain dug against his palms and wrists. He moved to stop this cruel display but Geoffer's arm shot up to block his way. He whipped towards the man, eyes asking a million questions. "What's wrong with you?" Eliott demanded, muscling his way to maneuver his horse past Geoffer's. "They're going to kill that fae."

Geoffer opened his mouth but his reply was drowned out by the sound of a whip cracking. The crowd gasped, drowning the fae's shaky sobs. Eliott gritted his teeth, still trying to get past Geoffer. His own horse sensed his agitation and began acting up as well.

"Your Highness, calm down," Geoffer cautioned. "We really must go."

Eliott turned to the fae putting his hands together and closing his eyes. Soon, water gurgled between his cupped hands. The crowd rushed forward with the goblets the stubby man had passed around, catching the water before it splattered to the ground. The last of the drops hadn't even made it inside a single goblet when the fae swayed and plopped to the ground. He wasn't moving.

Instead of rushing over to check on him, the stubby man clicked his tongue. "Useless," he muttered under his breath. Then, he turned back to the crowd. "I'll return some of your coin for that. Don't worry."

When the coach had thrown the unconscious fae inside his cage and the stubby man moved to the next attraction, Eliott turned away and sat up straighter in his horse. He tried so hard to stay calm, to put a leash to his emotions. Still, they slammed against his gut, begging to be let out. They washed over him in an uncontrollable torrent.

This was all wrong. What was the King doing to stop all of this? What should Eliott do to stop anything like this from happening again?

As soon as the Duke's manor came up, Eliott dismounted in such a speed he didn't even know he was capable of. He trudged past the open gate, keeping his face neutral. He wouldn't want to be seen storming through the Duke's mansion looking for a fight. He just...wanted to punch something. Anything.

A hand gripped his arm and yanked him back. He was getting tired of being handled like that all his life from the same man. He whirled to come face-to-face with Geoffer. Sorry. It's Honorable Sir Geoffer Van Haile.

"Your Highness," Geoffer cautioned. "You need to sort your thoughts. You can't go to the Duke like this."

Eliott laughed. It was void of humor. "Here I thought we're in a hurry," he said. "Make up your mind."

Geoffer pursed his lips, conflict forming a storm in his eyes. He appeared to be debating with himself whether to be annoyed or concerned with Eliott's response. "Your Highness, I—"

"You've seen how they treated those fae," Eliott seethed. Who cares if the guards or the Duke, himself, heard what Eliott was saying? "Like they didn't have any right to exist. Like they're not people. It's wrong."

"What are you going to do about it?" Geoffer's question was quiet but it posed a hint of curiosity. When Eliott met the man's gaze, there was only a certain stern hardness in his eyes. "As the Crown Prince and heir to the throne, what are you going to do about it?"

Eliott closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pulsing in his temples. "I'm going to fight for them," he declared. Never had those words been at their truest, coming from his lips. "They deserve to have a place in this world too. Their world."

Geoffer narrowed his eyes. "Is that what you plan on doing when you become king?"

Eliott leveled his gaze at him. Despite the manager standing a head taller than Eliott, he made sure his gaze never faltered. "Yes," he said. "And don't try to tell me otherwise."

Before Geoffer could respond, Eliott turned and strode towards the front door of the Duke's mansion. He squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. He was already tired so early in the morning but he chose to push forward.

What he said to his adviser and manager had been the itch at the back of his brain. He couldn't have helped Edge when she needed him so he would just help all of them to keep them all safe from his own kind, the humans. And he's going to do it, even without the power of the Crown on his head.