Pack Mentality

The early morning light blazed down from an azure sky as they walked out onto the steps and faced a crowd of angry townspeople.

"Ah, sister, these good people seem to think you slipped away yesterday and murdered a few of their citizens," Andor said, unperturbed and looking rather dashing in midnight blue trousers, a white shirt, a fitted jacket, long black boots, and a crushed velvet cape in muted blues and grays.

"Would the guards and our citizens not know if I left the castle and returned? And how exactly did I kill these townies?" Bailey asked, and Derya almost frowned.

The girl was rather adept at portraying the well-bred, soft-spoken, and rather assertive lady of the house when it suited her.

"All that remained of them were their clothes and a layer of soot!" The town constable said.

"I am half elf kind, and we all know elven magic cannot kill. Even if that were not so, my brother had my magic bound as a babe, sir. It sounds like you're looking for a sorcerer or a mage, if their ilk still exists. Was I seen in town to have such a false claim laid against me?" she asked, pulling her dark blue cowl back to expose her short-tipped elf ears, her hair braided back in the style of the elves, and the strange blue of her eyes.

"No."

"Then I do not understand."

"You are the only fae in this area!" someone called.

"Good sir, your claim carries little weight. How can you prove that right now, here among you, not a single one of these good people are fae? Many pass for human until they betray themselves. Who of you can even prove that there is no fae blood in your veins from ancient alliances and dalliances? I was home, my brother, mother, and staff can verify that."

She motioned toward Derya.

"The only person who came and went was my brother to fetch his new bride. Princess Derya arrived this morning, and this is the greeting she gets from you?" Bailey said, imitating Argana to perfection.

"What must she think of us? A people who march on the castle of their prince based on such flimsy evidence with pitchforks and accusations aimed at his sister? Especially since you know full well that my brother never allows me to go anywhere without his company and a mounted guard to keep me from being murdered by your good and kind people for being born different."

"All fae should die, you are an abomination!" Some faceless coward yelled from the back.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Andor said, "but since my sister clearly didn't do this, isn't hurt, and never left, I suggest you depart before my patience runs out, and I take this as a revolt against my rule. And the next time you bring armed citizens to my gate, Mayor Fehderein, it will not go well for you."

Andor glanced up, and the mayor followed his gaze to the walls where fifty or more armored soldiers stood with drawn bows.

"You have a responsibility toward us," Fehderein demanded.

"Yes, and my men will investigate right alongside the constable to find what happened and who did such a foul deed, but right now, you're not searching for justice, you're looking for vengeance. I fear for any poor fool who comes upon your way and has a crooked left finger or an extra toe."

"We are not such brutes, my Prince," the mayor protested, and Derya almost raised a brow at him.

"Are you not? What did you intend to do if my sister had been out riding this morning instead of entertaining my new fiancé, and you came upon her? Give her a fair trial or burn her for good measure? I will say this one more time, whoever lays a finger on Bailey, will pay alongside every person whom they ever knew or greeted on a crowded street."

The coldness of his gaze silenced even the unruliest among the crowd, and his presence would have impressed even her father.

"I want a formal, written apology, Mayor. We learned of the fae in school, and we all know that elven powers cannot blast a man to soot. That is dark magic right there. A child could tell you that only sorcery can do such a thing. Yet you dragged yourselves into my home and spoke to me as if I am your equal to be confronted?" he measured them with his gaze.

"It seems I have been too kind; you think me feeble and weak. Go home before I do something we will all regret. And if you speak against me and mine again, Fehderein, as you are prone to do of late, I will call it an uprising and act accordingly."

His words stilled the crowd.

"Nephew, while we have the mayor and so many of our fine citizens here, you may as well make a formal announcement of your coming nuptials," Argana said.

"Yes, you are right, Aunt Argana. Derya, will you join me?" he asked, holding out his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation, feeling those eyes on her with equal amounts of curiosity and judgment.

"This is the Princess Derya. She comes to us from the far lands of Arvalon at the edge of the known world. Our formal engagement will happen at this castle on the night before the harvest festival, and our nuptials will be read the next day. The engagement event is private and by invitation only, but you are all welcome to witness our wedding on the steps of this ancient castle, as has been our family's custom for six hundred years. We will celebrate with you all at noon high noon, and you can go forth from here to continue the revelry at the town festival."

"You do not seem overjoyed that our prince has finally chosen a wife," Argana prodded, and the crowd reacted with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

"They mourn their loss, Aunt," Bailey reminded, and Argana's gaze shot fire at her for reminding the crowd of their grievance.

"Yes, thank you, sister. Bareille? Take twenty of your men and investigate this atrocity. I want someone to execute," Andor said as if he meant every word, and although Bailey grew pale, she kept her expression neutral.

"It is a town matter, we will..." the mayor protested, but his words grew silent when Andor's gaze settled on him with an expression that needed no interpretation.

"Mayor, kindly do not forget your place again. Your position is a concession on my part; please do not presume to tell me what I may or may not do in this province that resides under my rule."

The icy edge of his voice as he squared his shoulders and stared down at the blustering, stone-faced man in his furs and golden chains meant to declare his status, had the entire crowd shifting restlessly.

Her father would call this the price of kindness, a populace that easily mistakes a leader's willingness to be gentle for a lack of spine and weakness. She didn't have to know Andor for more than a day to realize he was a man that did what had to be done, and he'd even make an example of this mayor the situation required it.

For a mere moment, she thought he would, but he contained his growing irritation and wasn't unaware that this situation needed a remedy, yet whatever he almost did, was not it.

"Bareille, send out eighty of our men in groups of five. Scour the countryside for any fae and bring them here. Close down the borders until we find this culprit. No ships will leave the harbor without being checked for stowaways by you and your men," he commanded, and Derya almost grinned.

This had nothing to do with looking for anyone or even the appearance thereof. Closing down the borders stopped trade, delaying ships created problems, detaining travelers would not go down well, and all of those grievances would be directed at Fehderein's office.

He'd be so busy putting out fires that he'd have no time to lead his merry band of witch hunters through the streets of his city.

Brilliant plan, Andor.

She wasn't the only one that approved of his plan; that feint smirk touching Argana's lips spoke volumes.

"Now, please return to your homes. My fiance and I have a wedding to prepare for and matters to deal with."

He motioned towards the gates.

"Why were we not made aware that our prince has ordered himself a bride?" the mayor asked and Derya was not the only one surprised by his audacity, although it was a question he would not be alone in asking.

"Since when do I have to explain my business to you, Mayor?" Andor asked.

"This is not just your business, your highness; this concerns your citizens."

"This is a political decision, Fehderein. A matter of state and some delicacy, and that makes it none of your concern or anyone else's. Do not test my patience by asking me what I mean."

Even the mayor wasn't dumb enough to press his luck when he noticed the dangerous glint in his master's eyes.

"I mean no disrespect, Sire. But many may find this sudden decision strange since we assumed you would marry closer to home."

"That is exactly why I kept this matter and my reasons a secret. I want no outside interference with my business, and there's nothing sudden about it."

"May I ask that this hunt for the fugitives be quickly resolved, sire. Delays are bad for business this close to the festival."

"That lies not within my hands and will depend on how good these fugitives are at evading the law," Andor said innocently as the mayor's scowl turned to a furrow.

"We shall speak again on this matter at a more convenient time, Sire."

"No, we shall not, Mayor. Bareille? Escort our guests outside and keep them safe on their way to town."

"Yes, Sire."

They watch the people leave, and a feeling of forbidding settled like a rock in her stomach.

"This matter has not yet reached its conclusion," Argana said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"Take your pick, nephew."

"I am so sorry," Bailey apologized.

"Now you understand why you cannot ever leave this castle without permission or protection," Argana said, sighing as she took her niece's hand, reminding Derya that Andor still held hers.

"This marriage will stir some problems as well," Andor predicted.

"Any marriage alliance will stir trouble; that is why you have kept off from picking a bride for so long. At least this way, we do not lose our sovereignty to a larger province or have to stretch our forces by defending a smaller one and weakening ourselves."

"Let's go inside and start covering our tracks," he suggested, and since he didn't let go of her, Derya had to follow him inside.

She tried to pull away, but he only glanced at her with a warning in his eyes.

They were still being watched, and inside this castle, they would rarely be entirely alone.