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have no right putting your nose into my dealings. Do you have any idea who I am?”
    “You are not yourself,” he said quietly. “The incense of Arpiar and the vision – ”
    “My good man!” she interrupted again. “I am Princess Una of –Parumvir, and you will speak when you are given permission.”
    To her irritation, he smiled as though he was trying not to laugh. Then he bowed. “And I am the Prince of Farthestshore.”
    Of all the curses upon Una’s young life, the very worst, she believed, was her tendency to break out in red blotches across her face when flustered or embarrassed. Especially on her nose. This was enough in and of itself to make her believe in Faeries, bad ones, who were neglected on dinner party lists and showed up at christenings full of vengeance and cackling, “She shall burst forth in blotches, brilliant glowing ones, at the least provocation.”
    Una could feel the blotches developing now, little red flags signaling for all they were worth. “See! See, she’s gone and put her foot in her mouth again! Right in, heel and all!”
    Without a word she turned and marched back through the market the way she had come.
    The crowds had spread out once more, no longer clumping about the cobbler’s stall. This probably meant that Felix was safely back, the purloined boots restored to their proper owner, and the attraction dissipated. Una had no eyes now for vendors, no matter how determinedly they shouted, jostled, or cajoled; she made her way back to where her docile gray mare was tied, not far from the old gentleman selling unicorn fry.
    Her father and brother were both there – King Fidel giving a shamefaced Felix a scolding while the guards stood a few paces off, pretending not to hear, their heads tilted just enough to seem disinterested yet still able to pick up every word. One of them hid a laugh behind an unconvincing cough.
    Sir Oeric, also near, bowed to Una as she approached, but she did not acknowledge him. Instead she walked up to her father, ignoring Felix’s scowls, and said, “I’m ready to go home now.”
    “Una!” Fidel turned to her, relief on his face. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d rushed off seven leagues as well. What am I to do with you two?”
    “Take us home,” Una said. “I am done with this market. It’s a silly place full of silly people.”
    Fidel was nobody’s fool. He gave his daughter a critical once-over. “What have you been up to?”
    “Nothing, Father! I – ”
    “Do not be angry with your daughter, King Fidel,” a gentle voice said. “It was I who detained her.”
    Una closed her eyes and wished that the ground would open and swallow her up. The nature of the universe seemed to be against her, however, and no sudden chasms rifted the turf beneath her feet. Instead she had to listen to her father ask in a stern voice, “And who might you be, sir?”
    The stranger bowed. “Forgive me. I am Prince Aethelbald of Farthest–shore.”
    Prince Felix muttered, “ Aethelbald? I don’t think we can forgive that.”
    Una shot him a quick glare, silently promising a dire future, but Felix made no effort to hide his mirth.
    Thankfully the Prince of Farthestshore did not seem to notice. “I had intended to introduce myself to you first, Your Majesty, but circumstances transpired otherwise. However, let me now humbly express my joy at once more finding myself in your fair kingdom.”
    Fidel stared. Una could not remember ever seeing her father, whom she imagined had been born a king complete with a beard and a gold crown on his head, at a loss for words. But as he regarded the strange prince, his expression implied that he was mentally considering and discarding any number of responses. At length he settled on “You are lord and master of all these peoples, then?” He indicated the assortment of beings milling about on the market lawn.
    “I am their Prince,” he responded. “But many here do not call me master.”
    “Ah.”
    A pause