The knight that stepped out of the carriage was nothing like Autumn had expected. He was slender, for one. Tall, but not large or intimidating. In fact, he looked almost shy as he looked at all of them assembled at the edge of the wood.
He wasn’t wearing a helmet. That was the first thing that Autumn noticed about him. She’d always heard about the Wizard King’s knights as being these large figures in full armor, but while this one was covered from the neck down, he wasn’t wearing a helmet. She could see his face, and it was the face of a man barely out of boyhood and unsure of himself. He had russet hair and the hint of a beard, large dark eyes, and antlers — actual antlers, like those of a deer — were growing out of his head. His ears, she noticed as he turned his head to survey them, were inhumanly long and pointed at the tip.
He wore a padded leather armor in the deep blacks that she had expected from the Evil King, but cut through with bright, surprising shades of brown and silver.
“Which one of you is Princess Autumn?”
It was terribly rude, as far as greetings went. The knight hadn’t acknowledged her mother at all, and had skipped at least twenty minutes of what she considered prerequisite small talk before getting to the matter at hand. In court, he would have been skewered for this lack of etiquette. But really, what else could they expect from one of the Wizard King’s beasts?
She took a deep breath and jutted her chin up. “That would be me,” she said.
The knight looked at her, his large eyes not quite human, but expressive none the less. He looked… eager. His bearing became lighter, his shoulders relaxed. He bowed to her, now incongruously courteous. She dug her nails into her sister’s palms.
“It is an honour to meet you, your highness,” said the knight, straightening up. “I am a construct of the Wizard King. He has sent me to escort you to his castle; as long as you are with me, you will be granted safe passage through his lands.”
He ran his eyes over the rest of her assembled family and seemed to hesitate for an instant. “In two months’ time, if need be, more constructs will be sent to bring your family up to the castle for your wedding, your highness.”
If need be. She exchanged a glance with her mother. The Queen pressed her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them again she was all business.
“Right,” said the woman. “Well then, let’s get going. We don’t have all day.”
She bent to grab one of Autumn’s suitcases and boldly dragged it up to the carriage. The knight seemed to startle at that, and he hurried up to wrestle the luggage out of the aging queen’s hands. They had chosen to forego servants for this, preferring to send Autumn off with only her family and close friends as witnesses. On the heels of her mother, her brothers-in-law busied themselves while Autumn exchanged one last teary hug with her sisters and ladies-in-waiting.
She really didn’t have that much left to her name. A few bags, a trunk. Some jewels and letters stuffed into her pockets. Autumn had had to leave most of her books behind, although she had chosen to bring a few journals and some ink with her, just in case she actually had the chance to fill them.
After the teary goodbyes came the dry ones. Her in-laws bowed and shook their heads. Her mother tugged at her brooch again and told her with firm certainty that they would see eachother again in two month’s time.
Autumn smiled and nodded, kept the screams and tears firmly lodged right behind her teeth, and then climbed into the carriage box with as much dignity as she could still muster.
The vehicule was a small affair, with only two wheels and a small padded bench for her to sit on with her back to the driver, luggage at her feet. It wasn’t an enclosed box, as she had come to expect carriages to be, but it did have a pointed little wooden roof held up by four pillars, like a baffling mix of a proper transport and a black shed on wheels. There was moss on top, and she batted away some vine that snaked down to the bench with irritation. The knight, whose eyes had never strayed from her the entire time, climbed up into the front seat. He picked up the reins of the pitch black horse, shifted his weight. Hesitated, again.
“Do you need more time?,” he whispered to her, low enough that her family wouldn’t hear.
Autumn blinked her dry eyes. Her sisters had both turned away by now, clinging to their husbands and wailing. Her (former) ladies-in-waiting looked devastated. Her mother the queen was glaring up at the sun, hands clenched. It occurred to her, belatedly, that she would die in the same land and at the same hands that had killed her father. She felt some sort of way about this, but decided to turn away from those emotions instead of considering them, as they would not be useful for the task that awaited her.
“I’m fine,” she answered, just as quietly. “Let’s go.”
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