Autumn fell to the ground with a cry of alarm. The dining room had disappeared around her, to be replaced with the dark and twisted trees of the cursed forest. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering. The failing rays of dusk were doing nothing to illuminate her surroundings, and worse — the woods were quiet.

Panic-stricken, she looked around herself, trying to figure out what to do. The trees appeared much the same in every direction. She couldn’t see any trace of the road, nor could she tell where the castle was. Should she even attempt to walk back, or would staying put be a better idea? A soft murmur of noise behind her sent terror shooting down her spine. Autumn whirled around as a thick cloud of smoke rolled out from between the trees. It rose slowly into the air, bubbling and curling ominously. From that smoke emerged a long, clawed hand, followed by a nightmarish face with glowing eyes.

She screamed. Her first reaction was to flee, but on the uneven forest ground, there was no hope that she might go far. Branches slapped at her skin and thorns caught on her hair and clothes. A root that she couldn’t see in the darkness put a quick stop to her escape. Autumn tumbled down then just as swiftly rolled back to her feet, her ankle screaming in pain. Behind her, the spectre was gaining ground. Around her, more mist started seeping through the bushes. She was surrounded. Autumn rushed at the nearest tree and grabbed a low-hanging branch. She snapped it off the trunk in a feat of strength that she’d had no idea she possessed. With a roar, she swung her weapon at the approaching spectres.

Suddenly, she found herself back in the castle’s dining room. Autumn yelped at the unexpected light, shielding her face with one arm. Her other hand kept a firm grip on her branch. Just as swiftly as she had been removed from the forest, her fear had gone, to be replaced by anger. She pointed her improvised weapon at the king and snarled. “Why did you do that?!”

“This was both an answer to your question and a demonstration,” he replied calmly. “The other maidens forgot that the safety of the castle is a privilege that can be revoked.”

She could not believe this man. Did he seriously think that she would accept this non-answer?

“Why did they forget,” she growled, jabbing her branch at him, “and what did they do?!”

King Eltanin looked halfway between irritated that she was not scared of him, and fascinated by it. A curious crease had appeared in between his eyebrows, and his eyes seemed to gleam as he stared at her with increasing intensity. He leaned towards her and finally deigned to explain, in a dangerously glacial tone: “Many of the other maidens — the ones who did not simply come here to die — had hidden agendas. They lied to me. They wanted something from me or worse, they came answering to a master who sought to use them to get to me. They planned to manipulate me, to spy on, or to otherwise betray me.” He spread his hands. “I do not believe — and I maintain this is a reasonable stance — that anyone should get to be the queen of my kingdom unless they are truly committed to the part. Don’t you?”

Autumn grit her teeth, but she lowered her branch. This, at last, felt like the truth. “I also want something from you,” she pointed out.

“Ah, yes. The protection of Veld. Which you made immediately clear upon arrival. You have even negotiated your own terms for it! It was very straightforward of you, not to mention honest. I do so appreciate that in a woman.”

“So all I have to do is not lie to you?” she pressed. “That’s it?”

“Do not lie to me, do not hide anything from me, and do not hold any other loyalty in your heart which might come before me and my kingdom. That’s it.”

She stilled. That was… a very vague request that seemed dangerously open to interpretation. He waved a hand, as if he could read her mind or at least guess the direction of her thoughts.

“I understand that you have come here answering a duty to Veld. But for your own sake, this duty needs to be discarded at the altar. I will not tolerate for my queen to serve the interest of others.”

“As long as it is written in the contract that—”

“It will be.”

She mulled on this for a moment. “Very well,” she finally nodded. “Swear protection to Veld and Esternia as a whole on our wedding day, make it say so in no uncertain terms on the contract, and do not touch me until then. Do so, and in exchange, I will always tell you the truth, and I will commit to becoming the loyal queen that you require.”

Eltanin clapped his hands. “Excellent! And in the meantime, now that you have agreed, you can cease this talk of ‘surviving’ the castle. Nothing here will harm you without due cause.”

“’Due cause’ being if you somehow decide that I am lying to you? At which point you will cast me out to die in the forest without recourse nor mercy?” she snapped. “I am only asking for the sake of clarification, you understand.”

Now he looked exasperated again.

“I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to this,” he sighed.

At his gesture, one of the servants crossed the hall and handed something to him. She could not quite see what it was at first. It looked flat and metallic, and small enough to fit in his palm. A seal, perhaps? But as he turned it over in his hands, she realized with shock that the king now held her brass brooch, which she had left in her room alongside her cloak and the rest of her belongings.

“What a nice little ornament,” he commented. “I think I will take it.”

“It is not yours to take!” she protested hotly. "Give it back!"

“It's not mine? Are you sure?”

In his hands, the brooch seemed to shiver for a moment. Her eyes snapped to it. She could only watch in affronted horror as the jewel turned to dust, crumbling between his fingers and coating is hands and the table in a fine golden powder. Not even the rubies remained.

“Oops,” he said.

Autumn gaped at him. “What — How dare —” Fury bubbled inside of her, so hot that for a moment, she struggled to form words. That had been a gift from her sister! She would never be able to replace it! What sort of despicable cad would stoop so low as to send someone to her room to steal her most cherished of belonging just so that he could destroy it in front of her?!

“Are you truly so cowed by questions that you resort to threats?!” she finally managed.

“Not a threat,” he corrected her. “Again, an answer and a demonstration. I’m sure you have been informed of my curse by now. I cannot have what is not mine.” He spread his hands, as if to indicate the dust on the table. “Literally. A wife that keeps secrets can hardly be described as ‘belonging’ to her husband, can she?”

Her lips curled up, baring her teeth, and he raised a finger to stall her again.

“Now, we have already agreed that I will not attempt to have you until our wedding. Fortunate, that. But when I do, once the time comes for it, what do you think would happen if there was doubt in your mind? Enough of it for my curse to take hold? What do you expect it would do to your body, to your soul? You saw what became of your brooch. The process on living beings is… slower, and far more painful.”

He smiled then, and perhaps he intended it to look kind, but the effect was chilling.

“Truly, my lady, when it comes to what could befall you here… The forest is by far the most merciful option.”

“Torn apart by spectres. You call that merciful.”

He shrugged. “Once I decide that a maiden is unsuitable and I release her of her engagement to me, what happens to her afterwards is no longer my responsibility.”

“Oh, I understand, now,” she spat disdainfully. “Looking away is more palatable to you than directly killing them. Unbelievable. I knew you would be wretched, but I didn’t expect to find you so spineless.”

His hands curled on the tabletop. A tingle of satisfaction cursed through Autumn at the realization that she had finally managed to hit a sore spot.

“Are you always going to be like this?” he snapped.

“Are you?”

She could almost hear his teeth grinding. His back was now straight as a rod, his shoulder tense, and Autumn had never been prouder to have destroyed someone’s countenance.

“I am adding a new condition. Do not anger me, or you will be sent for another visit to the forest.”

“Very well,” she retorted. “But if you get to add a condition, then so will I. Do not anger me, or I might just decide to visit the forest on purpose.”

She was not going to simply be a target for his unpleasantness, she decided. If he wanted a queen so badly, then he could very well earn it. Otherwise, she would do the only thing that she could do, which was to walk out of this whole business.

The king snorted, his anger seemingly evaporating in the face of her declaration, replaced by a condescending sort of amusement. His shoulders relaxed as he lounged back in his seat once more.

“Agreed. These terms are satisfactory to me. Now, my lady, please. Return to your seat.” He swept his hand towards the chair that she had unwillingly vacated. “Dessert is still to be served.”

Autumn didn’t particularly want to sit back down with him, but she had already broken every single convention of politeness, and she didn’t think that storming out now would do her any favours. It would be unnecessarily rude, considering the fact that they had both just technically agreed to get along — or at least, to not irritate each other long enough to be wed. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, and moved towards her seat. One of the hare constructs was already there, pulling the chair gallantly out for her. Then, he extended open palms. She did not immediately understand what he wanted, until she remembered the branch which she still held clutched in a trembling fist. She readjusted her grip and presented to him the part that had broken off the tree, the way that she had seen knights hand swords to each other — hilt first.

“Have this brought to my rooms,” she instructed.

The construct’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded with a courteous “right away, your ladyship” and took the branch from her.

As she made to sit, Autumn chanced a glance towards her knight. He was not looking at her, instead staring off into the shadows at the edge of the room. He was pale-faced and shook like a leaf, almost as if he were the one who’d just had a near-death experience. She felt a pang of guilt for worrying him so, and resolved to not provoke the king again. After all, there would be no need to, now that they had come to an agreement. Or, at the very least, if someone went and provoked the other, she doubted that it would be her doing. She could not, however, vouch for King Eltanin’s manners. He had proven entirely lacking in them so far.