Autumn was not much of a horse person, unlike some other court ladies that she had once known. She saw the animals as a necessity and enjoyed riding well enough, but the care and feeding of them was far from a passion of hers, nor something that she was willing to spend a lot of time thinking about. She strained to remain gracious through the tour then ducked out into the courtyard at the first opportunity, leaving Knight and the goat boy deep in discussion. They let her do so, perhaps sensing her need for a moment of solitude to gather herself.

They were not far from the outer wall, now. The high towers on each side of the gate loomed in the edge of her vision. They were not quite tall enough to pierce the canopy, which seemed odd to her. Surely, the point of watch towers was to — well, to see danger approach. But then again, Autumn had no idea how anyone could see anything in such a forest. Between the leaves and the branches, she felt as if something nefarious could lurk around any corner and she would be none the wiser. It unnerved her. She was used to the horizon surrounding her in all directions. This kingdom was dark and crowded and stiffening, and everything rustled. She longed for a single moment of quiet.

She walked towards the towers, craning her neck to try to catch a glimpse at the narrow windows crowning the columns of stone. The large gates were open, and there did not seem to be any movement atop the battlements. Surely the King did not let his walls sit empty and undefended? She kept advancing, still looking upwards, without paying much attention to where she was going.

In her defence — as she would remind herself later, attempting to soothe her guilt — she had not actually intended to leave the grounds. But she was not careful, her eyes elsewhere, and before she knew it her feet had crossed the line under the gate where road ended and grass began.

Surging out of nowhere, Knight grabbed her and turned his back to the outside world in one swift motion, protecting her with his body. Where there had been nothing just a few minutes before, the air was now filled with thick shapes of putrid smoke. Spectres slashed at them; blood arced upwards and sprayed ruby-red on the stone wall. Autumn shrieked. She pulled her Knight backwards in a panic. She hoped that the shades would not cross the threshold of the gate, but they followed. Dark coils of mist spilled into the courtyard in front of her horrified eyes. Crimson pupils shone menacingly in ghostly heads as they slowly surrounded her, long clawed limbs reaching out silently towards her and the dead weight of the knight in her arms.

“Back! Back you foul things, in the name of the King!”

A large wooden rake sliced through the shape in front of her. The spectres halted their advance, red eyes turning towards the stable hand, who wielded his rake like a halberd in the hands of a warrior. He cut and slashed at their ghostly bodies, yelling in rage. Autumn sobbed in relief when his efforts bore fruit and the shades started retreating. Once they were back on the other side of the wall, the goat boy made a wide gesture of his arm and the heavy gates slammed shut with a thundering noise.

“What were you thinking?!” he roared, turning to bear down on her with fury.

Her legs crumbled. She fell to the ground, the weight of the knight and her own panicked desperation pushing her down into the grass. She grabbed at the construct’s armour, trying to understand the severity of his injuries, but her hands were covered in blood and her eyes were blurry with tears. Knight groaned and Autumn sobbed violently as the realization dawned that he was still alive, that she had not been the death of him.

“Let me see!” snapped the goat boy, slapping her away. He pawed at him, then scoffed with something like relief.

“Gambeson got the worst of it,” he said. He pulled off his coat, bundled it up and pressed it against Knight’s wounds. “He’ll be fine.”

“Fine?!” she squeaked. “But there is so much blood!”

In her lap, Knight huffed a breath of air and squeezed the knee on which his hand had landed. “He is correct,” he croaked. “Constructs are made to be resilient.”

She ducked her head to look at him in horror and was met with a shining pair of eyes and a tired smile. “Truly, my lady. Do not fret for me.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but Autumn knew that more tears from her at this point would only make matters worse. Together, the both of them managed to get Knight to his feet and supported him as they stumbled back to the stables.

Once there, they were greeted by the gardener, who somehow already seemed to be aware of what had just happened. He helped them divest Knight of his armour and situate him on top of a low pallet in the small living quarters tucked in the back of the building. Then he stood anxiously in a corner, wringing his hands, as the goat construct went to work cleaning the long gashes on Knight’s shoulder blades. Autumn found the thread and needles, as well as the medicine used on the horses, but when she tried to help care for her knight, she was waved away impatiently.

“You should come back with me to the castle, your Highness,” broke in the gardener as she prepared to argue. He glanced at the darkening sky outside and gulped. “You have dinner with the King tonight. You must get ready.”

“He must not know about this,” groaned Knight.

“Are you kidding me?” the raccoon yelped. “Of course we need to report this! An... Incident like this…” his eyes flicked to Autumn, to the other construct, and then back to Knight. “I am not incurring his wrath by keeping it secret! Goat hand, back me up here!”

His friend bit his lip. “I don't know," he edged, looking uneasy. "It's not as if the king has ever cared about princesses before. Or constructs. He clearly does not want to know what happens to us, so why would we go and tell him? To cause trouble?”

“But…! Why would we not? I mean…” Once more, the gardener glanced quickly at Autumn. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You are suggesting a lie! Do you have any idea what would -- Are we really willing to put our lives on the line for this one? It's not like she’s proven that she has a chance yet, especially not with… this.”

Autumn, who had heard every word, swallowed back a sob and averted her eyes. Lord, she hadn’t even thought about what Eltanin would make of all of this. He would not care, most likely, but still. How could she look him in the face, conscious of what tragedy she had almost caused and tearing herself apart over it, and know that he did not care? How could she go ahead with this farce of a wedding, with such a thing hanging over her?

“No.” Knight’s voice cut through the air once more with the force and weight of a thunderclap, despite its weakness. “You will not tell, and I am not asking.”

From this angle, Autumn could not see his expression, but both the stable hand and the gardener’s eyebrows turned pinched.

“You will owe us,” said the raccoon. His friend nodded, his fingers having gone still mid-stitch.

“Yes. I will owe you.”

They exchanged a long glance between themselves, then seemed to come to an agreement. Something in the air changed, and two pairs of shoulders relaxed almost as one.

“Well then, that’s settled, I guess,” declared the gardener. “Come along now, my lady. I will escort you back to your rooms.”

He offered her a gallant arm, but she brushed it away and took a step towards the bed. “No, wait, I need to apologize—”

“I'm fine,” came the knight’s voice again, and this time he sounded so strained that it stopped her clean in her tracks. “I would prefer we talk when I am not bloody, my lady. I beg of you, grant me this kindness.”

Autumn hesitated, torn in half between two conflicting desires. The goat construct had turned away, busying himself with the needle, and the raccoon was silent at her back. She still could not see her knight’s face.

“Very well,” she finally conceded. “I am sorry. Please, come to me once you feel better.”

“I will.”

A delicate hand took her elbow and guided her outside. The gardener walked her back up the path towards the castle in thick silence, both of them lost to their respective thoughts. Once they reached the portcullis, he caught her arm once more and pulled her to the servant’s door instead. Autumn looked down at her ruined dress and felt grateful to him. While the chances of the Wizard King lurking in his own entrance hall were slim, she still did not wish to be seen crossing the threshold of the palace in such a sorry state. They climbed narrow and utilitarian stairs all the way up to her rooms, and then the gardener stopped her on the landing.

“The King might know anyway,” he warned her. “Even if none of us say anything. There are very few things that happen in this castle that he doesn’t learn about. I just thought that you should be aware of that and brace yourself accordingly. The punishment, should one come, will be swift and heavy. This was a very, very bad idea. I am already regretting it.”

Another sob climbed up the back of her throat only to die on her tongue. Autumn no longer had the energy to cry. She swallowed a few times before she could answer him. “Thank you. I will not forget your help.”

The construct hesitated, bobbed his head nervously, then turned and disappeared down the stairs.