The crowds cheered as their prince returned. Many had presumed him dead and his sudden arrival brought cheer to the kingdom and the streets were filled with music and laughter and banners flying high. The prince had waited at the city walls while a message was sent to the castle in order to give the king’s men time to organise his parade. He had no intention of coming back barely noticed. Not after all he’d been through. He was a returning hero. He had the scar to prove it.

He waved at the people as he came through the streets, sitting high and proud on his new steed. Behind him, a few feet back and safely away from prying eyes, a servant followed with the old mule and cart and strict instructions not to look under the blanket. The prince would know if he had. He would see it in his eyes. He’d take care of him as he needed if that was the case. His travels had made him less squeamish. He thought of the dwarves and the reward he’d promised them. He had trusted them too easily. He swallowed the sudden anger that surged through him and leaned down to kiss a milkmaid who’d pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She nearly swooned as he pressed his lips into hers and then pulled away, and her face glowed with excitement. He looked up at the larger houses which lined the streets closer to the castle. On the balconies, finely-dressed young women waved handkerchiefs that matched their dresses at him, their eyes flirtatious above the fans that half-covered their faces.

It was good to be home. He would send something back to the dwarves. They had earned it. But it wouldn’t be money or jewellery; it would be an assassin’s blade. They had deceived him. They had given him faulty goods. All may have turned out well in the end but that was not down to any action on their part. He did not like to be made a fool of.

Up ahead the crowd roared louder, and he saw that his mother and father had come out onto the castle balcony to greet him. He raised one hand in a salute and his father returned it. The people were almost ecstatic. The prince turned and nodded at the soldier behind him to bring forward the black stallion. The beast wasn’t as fully broken as its new owner had been, but that no longer mattered.

The stallion would make an excellent present for the king.

Epilogue

The mouse had lost the band of travellers in the forest. He hadn’t been able to keep up no matter how fast his little legs carried him. He stood up on his hind legs and sniffed at the air, his whiskers twitching this way and that. Too many scents assailed him, and he couldn’t yet tell them apart.