Page 50 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
“Level One covers all sentient creatures capable of crafting their own plans and hiring their own minions. This mostly means evil mages but could also include dragons and other crafty creatures. Level Two is the higher-level demons. They are still bound to another’s will, but they are quite formidable opponents.”
“What’s the likelihood we could encounter any of those in this forest?”
“Before today, I would say it was impossible. The Kingdom Defense Spell keeps out anything above a Level Four.” At Kit’s blank look, he muttered, “What do they teach knights these days? Level Four covers malicious fae who have murdered at least two people in the span of a year. Honestly, the system isn’t foolproof, but it didwork.”
Ignoring his grumblings, Kit asked, “And after today, what would you say the odds are?”
“Good knight, we are standing in a forest of thorns where previously there were perfectly good trees. This happened in less thana day, probably within the last few hours, as I assume Prince Frederick would have warned us if he’d stumbled upon it. The odds that an evil mage is behind this transformation are one hundred percent.”
“Wonderful.”
“However,” the wizard hedged, pursing his lips, “they have, perhaps, left the forest to be guarded by something a little less sinister. A Level Two demon or monstrosity.”
As long as Kit didn’t suddenly have to take on the role of Chosen One to defeat an evil mage, she could handle one toothy forest. Hefting her sword, she sliced through a wall of vines and plunged into the unknown.
Kit had first picked up a sword when she was two years old. She didn’t actually remember the event, but she’d heard it retold often enough. Her father beamed with pride whenever he told the story. Her mother simmered with rage and scowled about his carelessness for leaving weapons around a toddler. Life was much more peaceful after they had acquired separate households.
Fighting a forest, as it turned out, was similar to slashing at targets. Some of the vines moved to attack her, but in the end, plants stood no chance against her sharpened blade. Like the practice dummies, their defeat was silent and a little disappointing. After fifteen minutes of monotonous swinging, she grew bored, and made-up little voices in her head for each vine.
No, no, please!one wailed, high pitched and pathetic.I have a wife and three sprouts at home!
I’ll take you down with me!another bravely announced, wrapping tightly around her upper arm. The thorns snapped off when they tried to puncture her armor.One day, I will get my revenge—ahhhhhhh!
“Must you?” the Good Wizard asked, pausing after blasting a path through a particularly thick bramble.
Kit realized she’d been narrating out loud and snapped her mouth shut. “I was just having a bit of fun,” she muttered as she swung the blade again, less animatedly this time.
“This is not the time for fun, good knight, this is amission.Please treat it with the gravitas it deserves.”
Good gods, he was worse than her mother. As soon as he turned his back, Kit stuck her tongue out at him, then returned to hacking and slashing.
A roar stopped her mid-swing, the sound echoing through theforest. Excitement thrummed through her, and she turned to the wizard. “Is that a dragon?”
The wizard frowned. “If it is, I cannot help you with it.”
“That’s fine!” she shouted, rushing forward into the forest. She’d never seen a real dragon before. Though not all of them were evil, the good ones were often hermits—too sick of humanity’s shenanigans to pay a friendly visit. Fighting one would be arealchallenge.
She burst through the trees and finally saw the tower, covered in thorny vines. A great shadow prowled around the base, flared wings making it look even bigger. It turned toward Kit, opened its pitch-black maw, and roared. Its breath rustled her hair and almost pushed her back a step.
But there was no fire, no brimstone smell, no treasure hoard. Not even a single scale. All of her excitement faded as she realized that it wasn’t arealdragon, only a shadow of one.
“I’ll just sit here, shall I?” the Good Wizard suggested as he found an overturned log. He blasted it with magic to clear it of vines, then gathered his robes and plopped down. A few vines tried to creep up behind him to ensnare him with their thorns, only to be repelled by the blue aura of his staff. He looked comfortable and ready to be entertained.
Kit rolled her neck and shoulders, then swished her sword in a few practice swings. “Alright, shadow beast, come at me.”
The great beast stepped forward, claws gouging the dirt. “You dare face me, puny mortal?” it demanded, voice echoing around them.
“Yup.” Kit stopped playing around and ran toward the shadow creature with a full-chested battle cry.
Enormous wings flared, blocking out the moonlight and the canopy above them, drenching Kit in shadow. “I am darkness!” it roared. “I am death! Fear me! Bow before—”
Kit stabbed her sword straight into its unprotected chest, putting all of her force behind the maneuver. Then stumbled and almost fell flat on her face when she met no resistance. The shadows barely had a presence—a brush of thickened air, then nothing.
She caught herself and swung around to face the creature again. Though she’d run right through it, its form remained intact. “Good Wizard?” she called. The shadow’s serpentine head lunged at her, its teeth snapping on empty air. She couldn’t touch it, but the scarred dirt beneath its feet said it could still touchher. Could her armor withstand shadows, or would they slash right through it?
“Yes, good knight?” the wizard asked, his voice a bit muffled.
When she glanced at him, she saw him hurriedly wiping crumbs from his face. The bastard had been snacking while she was fighting!
