***

Autumn had only just managed to clean herself and change her dress when a knock sounded on the door to her rooms. She opened it to find the two hare constructs who curtsied nervously.

“I apologize, my lady,” began the one who always seemed anxious. “But we have just gotten word that your knight is delayed.”

“He ate the wrong berries in the garden,” continued the other. “The gardener is with him now.”

She felt her heart skip a beat and tried not to let anything else but mild concern show on her face.

“Oh no, will he be alright?”

The second servant rolled his eyes. “Just an upset stomach, nothing to worry about, my lady.”

“We will be the one to escort you to dinner tonight,” said the other. “If you would please follow us?”

“Of course, lead the way.” She tried to smile amicably at them, despite her current turmoil. “I realize that there is no need for me to introduce myself, but I don’t suppose that the two of you have names?”

They shared a look of dismay, then the second hare grimaced at her. “I apologize, my lady, but none of the constructs do.”

“Oh,” she said, understanding belatedly that this wasn’t something only particular to Knight. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “It’s just not the done thing, I suppose. Now, shall we…?”

The construct gestured her down the corridor, and Autumn took the hint to start walking. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to offend,” she tried anew, “but how should I refer to you, then?”

“We are the hare servants, my lady.”

She nodded, licked her lips, then made her third attempt. “I see. However, and again I truly do not wish to overstep, but I cannot help but notice that there are two of you. Is there any way to refer to one of you specifically?”

They exchanged another glance. “There is no need for this,” finally replied the anxious one slowly. “Given as we are always working together, if you refer to one of us, then you refer to both of us, my lady.”

“I understand,” she said, even though she really did not. But this conversation seemed to have reached an impasse, and she feared that to push any further would be terribly rude. Autumn’s hands clenched in the folds of her skirts and she forced herself to take a deep breath lest she break into more tears in the middle of the corridor, minutes away from facing the king.

Today had made her feel so small. She didn’t understand anything about this kingdom, except that it was clear that the fate of many depended on her success or failure at marrying the Wizard King. Had she been in one of the constructs’ place, she thought that she would have resented herself for that, and she would have definitely begrudged her master. But most of them seemed to simply accept the situation and did their best despite of it; they were better than her, in their way. On the other hand, they also accepted not having names, and that was the one thing around which she absolutely could not wrap her mind.

Before long, they had reached the dining room. After one last deep breath to steel her nerves, Autumn nodded at the hares, who pushed open the heavy double doors for her to walk through.

***

“Once more, I find myself intrigued in the face of your silence, my lady.”

Autumn was proud that her fingers barely twitched around her butter knife, but she still laid it back down on the table, just in case she might be tempted to use it. It had been too much to hope, of course, that the king would be too occupied to pay her attention today as well.

They were not eating venison for this meal, which was good for her sanity, although she kept accidentally glancing at the dish of carrots and turnips and remembering the gardens. Which then led to thinking about Knight, and the flower that he had so gallantly slipped behind her ear the day before. He had done it a second time that very morning, with a shy grin that had set her heart aflutter. She had wanted to keep that bloom, to press it in between the pages of her notebook along with its twin. However, she had been heartbroken to find it no longer tucked in her hair when she’d made it back to her rooms. She could not help but to wonder at which point of this horrible afternoon that she had lost it, and where on the forest floor it now lied abandoned.

“I suppose that I simply do not have anything to talk about,” she said, then cleared her dry throat and reached for her wine.

“I find that hard to believe. I hear that you went exploring today.”

How fortunate that Autumn had been in the middle of two sips, or she might have choked at those words and given herself away. As it was, she merely placed the goblet back down with care and smiled tightly at him.

“Yes, I toured the grounds.”

“And did you like them?”

Autumn genuinely did not know how to answer that. Had she liked the castle grounds? Well, no, not really. Even the parts which had not been actively trying to kill her had been foreign and strange, and only made beautiful by Knight’s presence at her side.

“It is different from how things are in Veld,” was the diplomatic reply that she finally settled on.

“Ah, yes, I would imagine so. While I have not been to Veld for quite some time, I am familiar with its climate. Grassland as far as one can see, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, that is what a prairie is,” she replied irreverently, her mouth moving faster than her brain could censor it.

The King looked amused. His eyes gleamed with the humour of a joke to which she was not privy. “Indeed. It must be quite the novel experience for you to be here, then. Did anything in particular catch your attention?”

She hesitated, remembering suddenly how the gardener had warned her that the King might know of the incident at the gate despite no one telling him about it. His question felt like a trap, but she had no idea how to navigate it. She realized that she had to be very careful with her words, so as not to lie to him, without telling the whole truth either. If she mentioned the gardens, then the subject might turn to how her knight was supposedly now sick from eating berries, and how this story did not hold even a drop of water when properly examined. In no circumstances could she allow him to know that Knight, or any of the constructs, had contrived to hide something from him. She had not been told what the punishment was for dishonesty in servants, but the gardener had been so frightened that she did not wish to find out. On the other hand, if she referred to anything past the inner wall, would it be perceived as an admission of guilt for going there in the first place? Would she be in trouble for breaking one of his rules?

“I hear that there is a sunroom, but I haven’t seen it yet,” she finally said, attempting to sidestep the dilemma.

King Eltanin was still smirking. There was nothing on his face to give him away. “Yes,” he drawled. “It is located in the southeast tower, and quite charming, if you enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Do you?”

“I do not often have time for leisure,” he replied, which she found intriguing. She had no knowledge of what being a wizard entailed, but she did know about the duties of a king, and it seemed to her that in the absence of citizenry to rule, one must have quite a lot of free time indeed.

She was about to question this, when Eltanin continued, waving a hand lazily: “But do not concern yourself with me. You may go wherever you wish. Except outside of the walls, of course.”

She clenched her teeth in a grimace of a smile. “Of course.”

They ate in silence for a few moments. Once it became clear that she had no more to say to him, Eltanin placed his fork down with what appeared like deliberate carefulness and steepled his fingers under his chin.

“I wished to apologize for the night before last’s dinner,” he began, so unexpectedly that Autumn did choke on her wine this time. She plunked the goblet down with all the grace that she could muster and coughed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I hope that I have not come off as rude,” he clarified, to her great bewilderment. “It has been many years since I have had guests that I am expected to entertain, and I do believe that I may have lost the skill of it.”

Propriety demanded that she offer him some reassurance to the contrary. Autumn, however, could do nothing but blink owlishly at him.

“I warn you now that I do not foresee becoming better at it. While I will not apologize for my peculiarities, and do expect you to learn them, I hope that our interactions that day have not caused you to go to bed… frustrated.”

Heat surged through her as the possible double meaning of the king’s words registered, and Autumn turned her face away, cheeks burning. “Not at all, your majesty, not at all,” she choked.

How much, exactly, does he know? she wondered frantically. Nothing happens in his castle that he doesn’t learn about… even this? No, surely not!

She flicked a mortified glance at him, but if the king perceived anything of her inner turmoil, he did not show it. His utensils back in hand, he calmly picked his way through the meal on his plate as if nothing was amiss.

Appetite gone, Autumn pushed her own plate away. One of the hares came over to remove it as if summoned, and she mumbled her thanks. She took another sip of wine to brace herself, then cast about for something else to discuss.

“I was wondering,” she began, hit by a sudden wave of inspiration. “Does this kingdom have a name?”

“Not really,” he answered, tossing a small bone into a bowl with a bored look. “I never got around to naming it, myself.”

She could not believe this. Her mouth formed around the word ‘what’ but he flicked his fingers in the air and interrupted her before she could speak.

“Yes, yes, I am aware,” he drawled, “but you need to understand that things were very hectic around here in the first few years, and by the time the dust had settled, I assumed that one of these—” he paused, made a vague gesture, then continued: “— one of the lords in the other kingdoms had already named my lands something or another. In which case, it would have been pointless to do so myself, when my chosen name would be one that only I would ever know or use.”

“I do not think they did,” she informed him. “Or at least, I have never heard the forest called anything other than… Well. Evil forest, Evil land, Evil kingdom, and so on. That sort of thing.”

Both of his eyebrows arched with incredulity. “Is that so? I don’t know whether I should be insulted or relieved. Names are powerful, Lady Autumn. More so than you can imagine.” He looked away and tapped his fork to the edge of his plate, suddenly troubled. “What were they thinking? None of these arrogant snakes ever held themselves back from naming or renaming things without a hint of regard for the consequences. I would have thought… or perhaps they simply didn’t care enough to bother.”

He sighed. “Or they meant it maliciously,” he muttered, clearly talking to himself now. His eyes were far away, tracking memories that only he could see. “Leaving something unnamed is just as powerful as naming it. Even if they gave it one and it became lost… Well.”

The King turned back to Autumn and shrugged. “No way to know now, of course,” he concluded in a stronger voice. “No matter. I do not really care.” But she could tell that he did. The news had agitated him.

He gestured at the servants, who came to take away his plate as well as the various dishes on the table, clearing space for dessert. Autumn’s wine was swapped with a steaming cup of tea while a new construct that might have at one point been a goose presented them both with slices of honey cake before disappearing back into the shadows that ringed the room.

Eltanin considered the offering that had been placed in front of him with a frown, then gestured once more. The goose squeaked, very softly. One of the hares came forward in her stead.

"This seems much too sweet," he said. "Take it back. I will have fruit instead, and tell cook to make me an infusion. Go now."

The construct bowed and did as instructed. Autumn barely noticed this interaction, as she was deep in thoughts. She took her time with her cake while her mind ran through the last few minutes of conversation. So the King was upset about his kingdom’s lack of a name. That was rich, coming from the man who had never named any of his own creations.

“Perhaps I shall name the land, then,” she mused.

Eltanin made a strange noise. Autumn, realizing that she had just spoken aloud and unwilling to backtrack, turned towards him and forced a confident smile.

“It could be my first act once I am your wife,” she suggested sweetly. “A fitting way to highlight the new start that we will be embarking on.”

A part of her worried that he might be angry at this proposal, after all that fuss that he had just made about names having power. But to her great surprise, the king actually seemed to enjoy the suggestion. His eyes lit up and his lips quirked into a crooked smile.

“What a splendid idea,” he drawled. “When you arrived, you complained about having nothing to occupy your time with, did you not, my dear fiancée? It is settled then, your task for the next two months is to think of a name for our kingdom. I do look forward to hearing what you’ve come up with. Perhaps we might even include it in our wedding vows.”

She felt her face twist and strained to keep a hold on her smile. “Well, we will have to,” she replied testily. “Given as we will need to call our kingdom by name on the marriage contracts if we want them to be legally binding, after all.”

He waved his goblet in her direction in a gesture that looked mocking. She felt mocked. “Well, there you go then! Problem solved.”