“I’m good with a whip,” the one on the log returned.

All the men laughed, even the male gnomes.

“Come, meet Farah, your future princess,” True bid. “She wishes to see The Doors.”

“It’s good she wishes it,” the vine gnome said as he slid down to the ground and both of them approached. “We often say yes to beautiful women. Ugly princelings, no.”

True chuckled.

He also dismounted, rounded his magnificent horse (aptly named Majesty) at the rear and came to me. He put his hands to my waist and pulled me down, then held my hand as he walked us back around and stopped us in front of the little ones.

“Farah, meet Welbrix and Galbdor.”

He indicated each with his hand as he said their names. Welbrix was the one who came from behind the log. Galbdor was the one who came from the tree.

“Hello,” I said.

“If wedlock with this lummox doesn’t work,” Galbdor jerked a thumb to True, “I’m happy to carve a higher door into my tree so you can get through without bumping your head.”

“My tree already has a high door,” Welbrix said.

Galbdor looked to Welbrix. “Not high enough for this statuesque beauty.”

“The point is to make her bend over, stupid,” Welbrix retorted.

I started laughing.

Both males looked up, and I could see coming from under their hoods that they had long hair, Galbdor’s white, Welbrix’s gray, though, curiously, their faces appeared unlined with age.

And they were grinning at me.

“It is true what your handsome prince has told you,” I said. “I would be most grateful if you would honor me with showing me your home.”

“The honor would be all ours, princess,” Galbdor replied on a bow.

I was struck with the title, something True referred to often regarding me, but not anything anyone else had ever called me.

And it was then I realized this would be real. In a month’s time, I would be a princess.

I knew this, but it had not penetrated.

Two months ago, I lived in exile.

Now, I was to be princess. Then queen.

And I would live my life beside a handsome prince, who would become a gentle and benevolent king.

My mother had not lived to hear me called princess. She had not lived to see me spend even a day as wife at the side of a handsome prince.

And she would have loved that for me.

“Farah?” True called softly.

I looked up to him.

“No one has referred to me as princess before,” I whispered.

That tender smile of his returned. “I would get used to that, darling.”

I felt a tender smile of my own forming.

“Are we to endure you two staring, starry-eyed at each other for eternity, or can we go find some ale?” Welbrix asked.

True glanced at Welbrix before he looked to Alfie. “The horses?”

“We’ve got them,” Alfie assured.