The fountain was empty.

  There were no bodies sprawled on the ground, no armor leaning against the edge, no trace at all of the two guards he had put to sleep hours earlier.

  Max stood still for a second, watching the water ripple softly under the torchlight.

  “…Great.”

  He crouched by the edge and checked the area. Nothing. No footprints, no debris, no signs that anyone had dragged them away. If someone had found them, they’d been thorough enough not to leave evidence behind.

  Or worse.

  He straightened and looked toward the buildings surrounding the courtyard. Service rooms, secondary entrances, lightly used corridors. He checked the closest ones, moving carefully, opening doors just enough to peek inside.

  Empty.

  “Well…” he muttered to himself. “It’s not like I can do much more.”

  He closed the st door gently. The ring was still active; not even the wood brushing against the frame made a sound.

  He sighed.

  ‘Since I’m already here…’

  The event came to mind. The suitors. The main hall filled with nobles, heroes, envoys from distant kingdoms.

  Enor.

  ‘I wonder how she’s doing.’

  He pictured her standing in front of everyone, forced to smile, to listen to rehearsed speeches, exaggerated promises, eyes judging her like she was a prize on dispy.

  ‘Must be great having so many options,’ he thought, without much conviction. ‘Choosing someone important. A hero. A powerful noble.’

  He scratched the back of his neck.

  ‘Lucky her.’

  From the far side of the castle, he heard the sound of multiple carriages arriving.

  Max lifted his head immediately.

  The main entrance.

  Without thinking too much about it, he slipped between shadows and columns, moving toward the castle entrance. He kept close to the walls, using every statue, every arch, every corner to stay hidden.

  From an elevated gallery, he saw them arrive.

  One after another.

  Nobles in embroidered cloaks. Heroes in gleaming armor. Escorts and banners, all in different colors.

  A dwarf passed first—short and stocky—wearing a golden outfit so overloaded with jewels it looked more like ceremonial armor than formal clothing.

  Then a tall, slender elf with silver hair falling all the way to his knees, dressed entirely in white, walking as if he owned the pce.

  After that, a massive blue draconid, his polished scales gleaming, his presence making several people instinctively step aside as he passed.

  Max swallowed.

  ‘…I haven’t even seen half the races in person yet.’

  More kept arriving. Elves, dwarves, beastfolk, hybrids. All different. All clearly important.

  He watched them in silence.

  ‘And yet…’

  He frowned.

  ‘I don’t know. None of them feel like someone she’d actually like.’

  He couldn’t expin why, but none of them seemed worthy of Enor. Not because of power or status, but because of something harder to define.

  He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see it coming.

  A strong hand lifted him off the ground by his shirt with no effort at all.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Max yelped as his feet left the floor.

  “Who are you spying on?”

  He turned his head and found himself face-to-face with a plume-covered face. Sharp eyes. A curved beak.

  A bird-man.

  “Hey—put me down!” he protested. “Be careful! I’m the royal pet.”

  The words came out on their own.

  And then he realized what he’d just said.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m using that as a defense…’

  The bird-man tilted his head, studying him with curiosity.

  “The royal pet?” he repeated.

  Max frowned.

  “Yes. So let me go.”

  That was when he noticed something else.

  He hadn’t heard him approach.

  The bird-man smiled—or as close to a smile as his beak allowed.

  “Interesting.”

  He lifted him a bit higher.

  “My name is Gawain,” he said. “Lord of the northern fields of Eldoria.”

  He gnced toward the entrance of the main hall.

  “And I’m fairly certain I’ll have a better chance of being chosen as the princess’s future husband if I return her pet… who was very clearly trying to escape.”

  “I wasn’t escaping!” Max protested. “I was—!”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Gawain had already started walking, carrying him in his arms straight toward the hall.

  Max clenched his teeth.

  ‘…This has gone completely to hell.’

  ***

  The doors to the main hall swung open.

  Music and conversation came to an abrupt stop.

  Gawain advanced without hesitation, cutting straight through the center of the hall and shamelessly stepping ahead of the line of suitors, with Max dangling from his arms like a hunting trophy.

  Several gazes locked onto them.

  At the far end of the hall, atop the thrones, Enor froze.

  Her eyes went wide when she recognized him.

  Max. Suspended in the air. Held by his shirt. Very far from “waiting quietly.”

  She looked at him with an expression that mixed shock, disbelief, and a very clear I told you to stay put.

  Max immediately looked away, mortified.

  ‘I’m sorry…’

  Beside her, the king frowned, resting one hand on the armrest of his throne.

  Gawain stopped in front of them, puffed out his chest, and spoke in a loud voice meant for everyone to hear.

  “My name is Gawain,” he decred. “Lord of the northern fields of Eldoria.”

  He gave a small bow—without letting go of Max.

  “And I do not come merely as a suitor.”

  He lifted the boy a bit higher.

  “During my arrival, I found the royal pet attempting to escape.”

  Several people stared. Murmurs rippled through the hall.

  “I considered it appropriate to personally return him.” He paused. “There’s no need to thank me.”

  The silence that followed was thick.

  Max swallowed.

  From the throne, Enor pressed her lips together… and closed her eyes for a second.

  The king ughed.

  The suitors’ event had just become… interesting.