“Your Majesty’s marriage to a lady of suitable parentage,” Willin said firmly. He pulled another scroll from inside his vest. “I have here a list of possible choices, which I have compiled after a thorough survey of the lands surrounding the Enchanted Forest.”

“You made a survey? Willin, you haven’t been talking to that dreadful woman with all the daughters, have you? Because if you have I’ll . . . I’ll use you to test out that new rack you want so badly.”

“Queen Alexandra is an estimable lady,” Willin said severely. “And her daughters are among the loveliest and most accomplished princesses in the world. I have not, of course, talked to the Queen about the possibility, but any one of her daughters would make a suitable bride for Your Majesty.” He tapped the scroll meaningfully.

“Suitable? Willin, all twelve of them put together don’t have enough common sense to fill a teaspoon! And neither have you, if you think I’m going to marry one of them.”

Willin sighed. “I did hope Your Majesty would at least consider the idea.”

“Then you weren’t thinking straight,” the King said firmly. “After all the trouble I’ve had . . .”

“Perhaps Your Majesty’s experiences have given you a biased view of the matter.”

“Biased or not, I’m not going to marry anyone any time soon. Particularly not an empty-headed princess, and especially not one of Queen Alexandra’s daughters. So you can stop bringing it up every day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. But—”

“But nothing. If that’s everything, you may go. And take that list of princesses with you!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a final, fierce scowl, Willin bowed and left the room, every inch of his two-foot height reeking of disapproval.

Mendanbar sighed and dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his thick, dark hair. Willin meant well, but why did he have to bring the subject up now, just when it looked as if things were going to calm down for a little while? The feud between the elf clans had finally been settled (more or less to everyone’s satisfaction), the most recent batch of enchanted princes had been sent packing with a variety of improbable remedies, and the giants to the north weren’t due to raid anyone for another couple of months at least. Mendanbar had been looking forward to a quiet week or two, but if Willin was going to start nagging him about marriage, there was little chance of that.

“I might just as well go on a quest or hire some dwarves to put in another staircase for all the peace I’m likely to get around here,” Mendanbar said aloud. “When Willin gets hold of an idea, he never lets go of it.”