Hammond bowed over and over again. “Bless you, Your Majesty. You are kindness itself.” Then, stumbling over his own feet, with his rabbits once more clutched tight against his chest, he started back toward the village.

The entire hunting party was silent. Aurora was sure they thought she’d made a terrible mistake, but she regretted none of it.

Then Lady Fiora shrieked.

Chapter 8

Aurora spun around.

“What are those?” Count Alain demanded, pointing.

Three wallerbogs stood on a fallen tree, blinking at the human riding party with wide, expressive eyes and snuffling with their trunk-like snouts. The mischievous faeries must have heard the commotion and crept over from the Moors.

They were the size of human toddlers, with frog-like bodies and enormous ears that stuck out from their heads.

“Wallerbogs,” Aurora said. “They don’t mean any—”

“They’re hideous!” said Lady Fiora.

Giggling, one of them chucked a fistful of mud at the girl. It struck her right in the side of her head, spattering across her face. Aurora sucked in a breath.

Prince Phillip covered his mouth. One of the other courtiers began to laugh. It was contagious, spreading to the rest. Only Lord Ortolan was grim-faced.

And Count Alain, whose eyes narrowed.

The wallerbogs pointed, laughing so hard that one of them fell over.

“You’ve given offense to my sister and I will have satisfaction,” Count Alain shouted, riding toward them.

With shouts of glee, the wallerbogs scattered, heading back toward the Moors, their frog-like bodies half hopping.

Count Alain kicked his heels into the sides of his mount, sending his horse galloping hard after them.

“Stop!” Aurora shouted. She ran to Nettle and swung herself onto her horse’s back. “Do not follow them into the Moors!”

“I will not stand an insult like that to my sister,” he shouted back.

“Don’t be a fool,” Prince Phillip called out.

She could tell the moment Count Alain crossed into the Moors. He passed one of the enormous stones that marked the boundary, and it seemed as though he dropped into smoke, briefly disappearing from view. When he rode out the other end of the fog, he had an arrow notched in his bow. He trained it on one of the retreating wallerbogs.

Then he let the arrow fly.

One of the large vine-covered trees moved. It towered twenty feet in the air, looming over Count Alain. It had enormous mossy horns of bark and a face like a skull made of wood. A tree sentry, a guardian of the Moors.

The sentry backhanded Count Alain off his horse, sending him flying into one of the shallow pools.

The humans behind Aurora screamed.

The tree man lifted Count Alain into the air. Count Alain’s legs kicked wildly.