#dyta

A leaf scrapes against the rock wall of the cave. You both have been sleeping for ages, the wind moans. I am so bored.

Not my problem, Dyta mouths. She props her head up on her elbow so she can admire Anise some more. Her wife isn’t the most conventionally attractive person out there, she knows that. Too many years of hard work and struggle have carved lines into Anise’s face, particularly between her eyebrows. Dyta’s favorite thing to do is to press a kiss there and watch the wrinkle smooth. 

It’s going to be soon, the wind whistles petulantly. The dry leaves on the trees outside their hideaway murmur. Just so you know.

That drags Dyta’s attention from the folds in the blanket draped over her wife. She twists, rolling off the bed of greens Anise has kindly cobbled together last night in place of a bed and bites back a curse when the cold floor of the cave shocks her through her dress. “How soon?” she hisses.

An hour, the wind says. It twines through her hair almost sheepishly. Or that’s what I would have said 45 minutes ago when you said you’d wake up.

“What?!”

“‘S that?” Anise blurts out, bolting upright. Her hand is already on the handle of her double-headed axe before she gains her feet. Her eyes open a beat after that, skipping across the empty clearing in front of the cave before landing on Dyta. The wrinkle in between her eyebrows deepens. “Dyta?”

“The wind is a terrible lookout,” Dyta complains. 

Excuse you, the wind says, genuinely offended. I am omnipresent.

“You’re omni-useless,” Dyta says, jabbing a finger at the air. She scoops up her pack. They’d been too tired last night to even make dinner so all of their supplies are still packed, thank goodness. She glares at a spot just beyond Anise’s shoulder where a spider web is fluttering enthusiastically. “They’re nearly here.”

They weren’t an hour ago, the wind says, when you were supposed to wake--

“We never agreed on that!” Dyta says, throwing her hands up in the air. “And since when have you ever had a problem waking me up in the middle of the night--”

“Fight with the wind later, darling,” Anise says. She’s already got her own pack on her shoulders and hurriedly helps Dyta straps hers around her chest. “We’ve got places to be.”

Dyta grits her teeth. “Anise, we’ve got another quest. It’s very important. We need to find a way to kill the wind.”

Oh ho ho, the wind howls through the brush outside, I’d like to see you try. 

“Let’s finish this one first,” Anise says. She ushers the shorter woman out into the golden morning. “Then we’ll talk.”

“This quest sucks,” Dyta mutters. She reaches back and twines her fingers with Anise’s unconsciously, tugging her to where the wind is sliding down a deer trail. “My quest is so much better.”

Anise carefully doesn’t mention that Dyta’s the one who accepted this job in the first place.

-----------Before----------------------

It goes like this; Dyta’s heard almost every story, every fable, every romance and none of them ever mention what she’s supposed to do after the honeymoon.

“We live happily ever after,” Anise says against the sensitive skin of Dyta’s neck. Her fingers expertly lace up the back of Dyta’s dress, lingering once the final knot is done. “Or start a garden or something.”

Dyta sighs and leans back into her wife. The bed is already made, last night’s dishes done and the spices reorganized. She needs a new project, but...“I’ve never been any good at gardening.” There’s a huff of amusement from behind her and Dyta frowns, twisting in Anise’s arms so she can peer up into her face. There’s not a hint of laughter. Dyta’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why don’t you stay and help me get some...practice?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and tugs at the hem of Anise’s work shirt.

“Can’t,” Anise says. She drops a kiss against Dyta’s forehead and though Dyta can’t see the smile she’s trying to hide, she can feel it against her skin. Anise goes to the door of their small, two bedroom cottage. “I promised the blacksmith a demonstration today.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dyta says. They’ve got plenty of money thanks to a grateful King who they’d (inadvertently) helped enthrone, but neither woman likes the thought of staying idle.  “Go be responsible or whatever.”

Anise slings her axe over her back. “I’ll be back by six. I’m serious, Dyta, try gardening. I genuinely think you’ll enjoy it.” She reaches a hand out for Dyta, reeling her in for one final goodbye kiss. “Have a good day.”

“Love you,” Dyta says. She props a hip against the door and watches Anise cross through their barren front garden, out the crooked wooden gate (Dyta’s first project) and down the small cobbled lane towards the main thoroughfare. Only when Anise turns the corner, out of sight, does she go to close the door.

A high pitched whistling is her only warning before the wind blows the door right out of her hand. The light wood slams against the wall and Dyta curses as her skirts tangle all around her legs. “Come on!”

Oh my god, I’m so bored, the wind creaks through the floorboards. Have you had enough space yet? Is your honeymoon over?

“Spiritually, no,” Dyta says. She jerks her skirts to rights and scowls. “Physically, yes. But the new rules still stand! When Anise and I are together, you have to ask before you--”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the wind says, I got it, no talking, whatever. Anise isn’t here now though, is she?

“Even so,” Dyta says, “I’m gardening today so I won’t be going on any--any adventures or missions or hikes, thank you very much.”

Gardening?, the wind asks. It rattles her newly organized spice rack so the bottles clink together. It sounds a lot like the wind is laughing at her. That’s a good one!

“I’m serious.” Dyta stomps over to her chest and yanks out her sun hat. “It’s my new passion. I’m going to grow the biggest tomato you’ve ever seen.”

I saw a tomato the size of this house, the wind says. Six centuries ago. A giant grew it.

Dyta glares at the tinkling spice jars and shoves her hat over her rioting curls. “That’s hardly fair, I’m  not a giant. What was the biggest non-giant grown tomato you’ve ever seen?”

Do you want to talk about tomatoes? Or do you want to know what you really want to do today? The doorknob twists, the wind pushing the door open before she can even touch it.

“Thanks,” Dyta says, exiting the cottage. She shades her eyes against the sun. “How about you help me plant something instead?”

Come on, the wind groans against her uneven wood fence, just hear me out.

“Last time I heard you out,” Dyta says, kneeling so she can examine the dirt just to the right of their porch, “I wound up as a royal prisoner for a week and a half.”

Eight days--

“I was late for my honeymoon.”

Anise forgave us--

“They made me wear baby blue when we both know I look best in green--”

It’s not like that this time! The wind snatches at her hat. I swear, it’s a day trip. An afternoon trip even. 

Dyta pretends to examine a particularly large clump of dirt. She picks it up and squints at it as if she weren’t already so bored she could cry. “I’m busy.”

Dyta. The wind kicks at the topsoil. Dyta, are you kidding me? It’s just a few hours--

“A few hours I could spend planning my tomato garden,” Dyta says. She picks up another handful of soil and makes a show of sniffing it. It smells like dirt. “Mmm, nutritious. It’s going to be very rewarding and fulfilling to plant this garden today. I’m not sure I have time to go off with you. Sorry.”

I am begging you, the wind says.

“I don’t know, Anise is going to be home at six…”

I’ll have you back by five, the wind snaps, I’ll carry you back myself if I have to.

Dyta drops the clump of dirt, brushes soil off her dress and walks briskly out the gate. Thank god, she doesn’t know how much longer she could have pretended to be interested in gardening. “I’ll hold you to that! Lock the door would you? And hurry up!”

The air is completely still for a long, long moment. Then the wind shrieks, slamming the door shut behind her. I hate when you do that! Don't act all reluctant when you actually want to go!

“I wasn’t acting,” Dyta lies. She hooks a right and heads for the woods when the wind nudges at her hip. “So tell me, what are we doing?”

We, the wind whispers through her hair, are going to meet a princess.

---------------After------------

“Look what we have here.”

“Augh!” Dyta jumps a foot in the air. A particularly low hanging branch is, unfortunately, only six inches above her. Crack! Dead leaves drift down around her and she grabs both sides of her head in pain. “Dude! A little warning!”

The man stalks out from behind the tree at the fork in the path. He’s dressed in shining armor from the neck down, but has a stained hood draped low over his face. “That would have defeated the purpose of lying in wait.”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Dyta says. The wind’s been silent for the past hour, sulking after her threat on its life. She wrinkles her nose at the exposed blade in the man’s hand. There’s something suspiciously red on it. “What are you supposed to be? A knight? Or a bandit?”

“Bandit? Ha! You offend my house with your ignorance--” The man cuts himself off and slashes at the air. “My identity is not your concern!”

“Because this isn’t very knightly behavior,” Dyta points out. She folds her arms and kicks at the leaves underfoot. “Jumping out of nowhere, scaring a lady. Rude.”

He’s actually a prince, the wind murmurs.

At the same time the man says, “You’re a peasant, not a lady.”

Dyta gapes. “Rude!”

“What’s rude is your presence in this competition,” the Bandit Prince says. He prowls forward, the joints of his armor creaking with every step. “Tell me the path, peasant, or I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

“Dude,” Dyta says, “you should really oil your armor every once in a while. You’re not going to win if the other guys can hear you squeaking around like that.”

“You didn’t hear me coming,” the Bandit Prince sneers. “You walked right into my trap--”

A blur of brown leather, silver hair and biceps darts out of the brush so quickly that the man doesn’t have time to react. Anise hits the Bandit Prince with her shoulder, throwing him into the rough bark of a maple tree. He hits with a sound like the clattering of pans and barely manages to hold onto his sword. Anise fixes that by kicking the hand around the hilt a bit harder than necessary.

“Actually,” Anise says, pushing her hair back sexily, “you walked right into ours.”

“Oh my god,” Dyta says. “Babe, do that again. You are so hot.”

Anise’s ears go red. “Not the right time, Dyta.”

Dyta carefully notes that that implies there is a right time and steps up next to Anise. She looks down at the Bandit Prince. “Should we kill him?” She cracks her knuckles.

“What?” The man squawks. He shakes his head as if to clear it and presses back against the bark of the tree. “This--you can’t! The rules say no blood!”

Anise looks pointedly at the sword laying a dozen feet away. “That looks a lot like blood.”

“Uh,” the Bandit Prince says. “It’s not mine--I mean, it is mine--” He tries to scramble up but falls back when Anise takes a threatening step towards him. “Ah, ah, ah! Rule number one! No killing!”

“Rules schmules,” Dyta says. She bares her teeth. “We’re not playing the game. We’re doing someone a favor.”

------------Before------------------

Dyta’s skirts are full of brambles by the time she starts to suspect the wind is taking revenge on her for making it stay silent while she had her honeymoon.

It’s just a little further, the wind says like it’s read her mind. The vines hanging to either side of the trail Dyta’s following shiver as a breeze twines through them. Around the next corner.

“You know,” Dyta says, panting, “I feel like I’ve heard a similar excuse before. Just one more day, Dyta. Today’s the day Dyta--”

I do not sound like that, the wind bleats. 

“Oh yes you do,” Dyta says. She fights aside a cluster of vines blocking the path. She raises the pitch of her voice again. “Just trust me, Dyta, I’m a little bitch who can’t measure distance--”

“I’ve never been called a bitch before,” the princess says from the other side of the vine wall.

Dyta freezes. Her eyes skip over the raven, silky locks pinned carefully under the glittering, golden crown to the lavish purple robes to the two knights already drawing their weapons. “Your highness.”

The Princess’ thin eyebrows shoot up. “You know me?”

She’s wearing a crown, the wind says, don’t get a big head. You didn’t make some amazing leap of logic.

“It’s an ambush,” the knight on her right says. He’s wearing a dark green helm that’s doing a good job of blending in with the deep shadows of the forest. “Get behind me, Princess Reina.”

“I ought to cut your tongue out for swearing at her royal highness,” the knight on her left says. She’s not wearing a helm, but a hood that covers her eyes. She’s already got an arrow notched and pointed at Dyta.

“I wasn’t swearing at her!” Dyta nearly trips on a rock backing up. She raises her hands. “I was talking to the wind!”

Oh nice, the wind says, way to keep a low profile.

“Liar,” the left knight growls and draws the arrow back.

The Princess’ hand snaps up in a staying gesture. “Wait, Nicole.” She cocks her head, studying Dyta. “I’ve heard tell of a wind-speaker, the first in centuries. Can you prove you are who you say you are?”

Tell her you know about the competition, the wind whispers. It caresses Dyta’s cheek. Tell her that you’re the last piece of her plan.

Oh you non-gendered offspring of a bitch, Dyta thinks. Out loud she says, “I know about the competition and I can help. Only the wind told me to say that and I don’t actually know what the competition is and I’m very confused as to how I can be of use.”

Princess Reina goes very still at the first mention of the competition, but is now watching Dyta speculatively. She tilts her head so she can meet her right knight’s eyes. “A wind-speaker. A woman. Would he agree, Manuel?”

Manuel’s lips thin. “I wouldn’t mention the wind-speaker part, your highness.”

The Princess nods decisively. “Of course.” When she looks back at Dyta she’s wearing a smile that says butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “There is something you can help me with. You see, my father has decided to...revive an old tradition. Are you familiar with the Queen’s Hunt?”

“No,” Dyta says honestly. The wind chatters at her, but she’s well and truly pissed now and not in the mood to listen. The sun is well on its way to setting and the wind clearly knew it’d take longer than an afternoon. She gives her own fake smile. “But if you’d like to follow me back to my home, you can tell me all about it.”

She’s not worried about leading a threat back to her house. The wind would at least warn her about it beforehand and, besides, Anise could probably take the two knights in a pinch.

--------------After--------------------

You should’ve killed him. The wind dances through the flowers in the clearing to the right of them. A butterfly is caught in its antics and flaps frantically to right itself. Then displayed his body prominently to ward off the others.

“Not my call,” Dyta tells it. She hops over a log and jogs to catch up with Anise’s longer strides. “Wind says we should have killed him.”

Anise pauses for a moment and, when Dyta is close enough, puts a guiding hand on her lower back. “If we killed him we would have delegitmized our standing as the Princess’ representatives.”

“It’s an archaic, sexist tradition,” Dyta says. She likes how warm Anise’s hand is even through her clothes. The sun is setting and a chill is creeping in. “The very least they could do is let me kill the archaic, ugly, sexist participants.”

Anise chuckles under her breath. “You’ve never killed anyone in your life.”

No one important anyway, the wind whistles. It throws itself at a passing bird, knocking the poor creature off its course and into a tree. Did she not see you bash that one thief over the head with a--

“Anyway,” Dyta says loudly though she knows Anise can’t understand the wind. “That’s all in the past. I’m a different woman now.”

Anise eyes her out of the corner of her eye. “A woman who can kill?”

Dyta quickly realizes she’s answered the wrong conversation. “Er, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Anise asks. Her lips twitch. “How are you different?”

Dyta fumbles for an answer. “I’m married now, for one.”

And an even worse liar, for two, the wind says tartly. It leaps past them, shaking the trees as it goes. We’re here.

Anise has always had the better eyesight between the two of them. She spots it just a moment after the wind does and whistles lowly. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

Ahead of them, in a large flower-filled clearing, rises a tall, stone tower.

---------Before-------------------

Anise pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s got soot under her nails and Dyta can smell the remnants of fire coming from her clothes. 

“Long day at the blacksmith’s?” Dyta asks feebly. She’s sitting at their small, kitchen table across from the Princess. There’s tea set for four, but the knights haven’t deigned to sit. They’re looming behind the princess and giving Anise a very thorough examination.

Anise closes the door behind her without opening her eyes. “Dyta, why is Princess Reina of Andapolis in our home?”

“I’m here to hire you,” Princess Reina says. Her quick green eyes cut from Dyta to Anise. “Should you agree, of course.”

This is news to Dyta. “Hire us?” She looks to Anise. “Babe, I think the wind got me a job.”

“You’re supposed to be gardening,” Anise says but the tension is running out of her broad shoulders. She drops her pack to the ground and strides forward to claim one of the knight’s untouched cups. The tea goes down  in two mouthfuls before Anise speaks again. “You said you were done following where the wind led.”

Dyta plays with her napkin and tries to read Anise’s face. Was she mad? Dyta’d be furious if Anise brought royalty home after her last experience with them. “I know, but I was--oh, Anise, I was so bored and I did try to garden! I looked at the dirt for quite some time but then the wind said it’d only take a second--”

“Calm, darling,” Anise says, placing a gentle hand over Dyta’s mouth. Her calluses brush against Dyta’s lips. “I’m impressed you lasted two weeks if I’m honest.”

Oh good, she’s not mad. Dyta relaxes and grins as her wife’s palm slides away from her mouth and caresses her cheek. “To be honest? So am I.”

“So,” Anise says, turning her attention back to the Princess. “What’s this job? Because I’m due to start at the blacksmith’s next Tuesday.”

“It should be done by then,” the Princess says. She taps one long nail against her teacup. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Queen’s Hunt either?”

Judging by the immediate disgust twisting across Anise’s face, she has. “Oh god, is the King a traditionalist?”

“Worse,” Princess Reina says, “he’s superstitious.”

And an idiot, the wind says helpfully.

“What’s Queen’s Hunt?” Dyta asks, tired of being left out of the loop.

“I forgot you didn’t grow up here,” Anise says. She takes one of the free chairs and sits with a sigh. The knights clearly aren’t registering as a threat to her. “It’s a selection process, basically. King candidates are brought in from across the land and invited to win the throne.”

“My father has decided that the only suitable way for me to choose my husband is to be hunted through the woods like an animal,” Princess Reina says. She folds her hands in front of her. “Now, for obvious reasons, I can’t kill every man who’d dare try--”

“Obvious reasons?” Dyta asks. Being set up in a game like that seems like enough justification for murder to her.

Not so to Reina. “If I did that I’d lose half the male nobles in my court.”

“By the sound of it, that might be for the best,” Anise says gently.

Reina closes her eyes for a long moment. “As I said, for obvious reasons assassination isn’t an option. However my guards and I were able to find an alternative solution to this problem.”

“Three hundred years ago,” Knight Nicole says, “a war princess dueled her father for the right to participate in the Queen’s Hunt. They used a jewel instead of the princess as a prize so she could compete. She won.”

“Her actions set a precedent.” Princess Reina’s mouth twists. “A Princess may join the hunt for her own hand in marriage. If she wins, she gains the right to choose her own spouse. The problem is that I am not a war princess. I am a scholar.”

Anise gets it first. “There’s no way you can beat a host of trained nobles through the terrain. You want one of us to be your representative.”

“Me!” Dyta stands too quickly and her chair teeters dangerously on two legs. She points at herself. “Me, me, me, pick me!”

“Dyta,” Anise says, “you’re not combat trained--”

“But it’s a hunt,” Dyta says quickly, already having anticipated Anise’s argument. “It’s a hunt and you know I’m the best at finding things so it has to be me.”

Anise stares at her. “You really hated gardening that much?”

“Loathed it,” Dyta says. She twists towards the Princess. “You choose since you’re the one hiring. But, just so you know, the wind’s already told me where you hide your diary and I’m not afraid to use my powers for evil.”

Princess Reina loses a bit of her poise. Something dark moves behind her eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Anise hurriedly assures her. 

“Yes,” Dyta says at the same time. “Unless you hire me.”

“Actually,” Knight Manuel says, “Princess, they’re married. Your father’s laws make it so that they’d be considered one person.”

“Great,” Princess Reina says. She stands and looks down her nose at the two other women. “The game starts on Friday morning in front of the Palace at dawn. You’ll receive payment if you find me first.  Otherwise I’ll make sure that whatever toad I’m forced to marry orders both of your executions.” She glides to the door, seemingly unbothered by the way Dyta and Anise are both gaping after her. She pauses just before leaving. “And Dyta? For future reference, that was a threat.”

Then they’re gone leaving behind an empty cup of tea and ringing silence.

I like her,  the wind chatters against the porcelain.

Grudgingly, so does Dyta.

--------------------------------

And that’s how they’ve arrived here at this moment, facing a spire standing alone in the middle of a fairy-like meadow in the deepest part of the woods.

“Her dad locked her in a tower?” Dyta stares at the lone window a good fifty feet up. “A tower?”

She tried to run away last night, the wind says. Her father no longer trusted her to play the Queen’s Hunt fairly.

“I’d run away too,” Dyta says. She looks at Anise. “Did you see that one guy at the start? He had to be like forty years older than her.”

“It’s not really about her,” Anise says. When Dyta starts to protest, she raises one hand. “Not that way. To them it’s not about marrying her. It’s about becoming King.”

“They’d all suck at being King,” Dyta says. She carefully picks her way around some beautiful cosmos and towards the tower. “I don’t want to have to heroically fight for another revolution so let’s go.”

Anise huffs in amusement. “You didn’t do any of the fighting last time and you know it.”

“I inspired the people,” Dyta says. She holds out a hand in front of her. “Wind, buddy, wanna give us a hint into the tower?”

Ask her to let down her hair, the wind says.

Dyta rolls her eyes. “Hardy har har, for real.”

For real, the wind says. I’m not kidding, that’s the only way up. The door’s been buried.

“He buried her?!”

“King’s these days,” Anise growls. She stalks ahead of Dyta. “We’ll have to climb the stone face.”

“No, wait!” Dyta bounds ahead, skidding to a stop at the base of the tower. “I got this.” She clears her throat. “Reina! Princess Reina!”

A dark head peaks cautiously over the windowsill. When the Princess sees it’s them, she breathes a sigh of relief so loud it can be heard from the ground. “Thank goodness it’s you two idiots. I’ve heard Prince Renaldo shouting somewhere over there-” she gestures vaguely to the wood to their right “-for the past half hour.”

“Oh yeah,” Dyta laughs, “we stitched his hood over his face.”

Anise’s eyebrows shoot up. “That guy was a prince? What’s in the royalty’s water? Doesn’t it seem like there’s an awful lot of bad ones lately?”

It’s the luck of the Hero, the wind tells Dyta. Tell Anise it’s her destiny.

“I won’t,” Dyta says. She shades her eyes as she looks up. “So you going to let down your hair or what?”

Princess Reina’s brow furrows. She brings a lock of her hair forward to look at before looking back down at Dyta. She opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “Are you insane?”

“Dyta,” Anise says, “hair can’t support a person’s weight.”

“But the--the wind said--” Dyta turns bright red. “Wind!”

The wind howls around the tower. Hahahaha, I can’t believe you said it! Absolutely nuts, Dyta.

Dyta’s jaw drops and she spins in place to track the breeze gleefully ruffling the grass. “You! You said to ask!”

Because it would be funny! The wind slaps her in the face, throwing her hair up into the air. And it was!

Dyta stomps her foot. “It is not! You--you useless fart!”

The wind yanks at her foot hard enough that she would have fallen if not for Anise catching her. You take that back!

“I will not--”

“Does this happen often?” the Princess wants to know as Dyta tries to physically fight the air.

“All the time,” Anise says gravely. She pulls her short hair back into a ponytail. “We have to get you out of the tower to win?”

“Actually you just need to get in,” Princess Reina says. “There’s water up here if you’re thirsty. And snacks.”

“Excellent.” Anise cracks her knuckles and starts climbing.

Dyta doesn’t notice their exchange. She’s too busy calling the wind every name in the book and getting progressively more frustrated as it yanks and twists her clothes. “What is with you lately? All you do is make fun of me and yell and lie--!”

I don’t lie! The wind tugs at her hair. You lie!

“I have never,” Dyta lies. She changes tactics and squats down. If she’s low to the ground, the wind can’t knock her over. “Not about anything important anyway!”

So I’m not important now? The wind wallops the back of her head. The first wind-speaker in centuries and you’re a jerk!

“What?” Dyta blinks the stars out of her eyes and rubs the spot the wind hit. “I didn’t say that!”

You said you don’t lie about important things, the wind says, but you lied to me.

Dyta blinks. She’s never heard the wind sound genuinely upset before. Like violin strings being stretched. “I--I didn’t mean to?” She tries to think of what the wind is talking about, but can’t think of anything. “What do you think I lied about?”

After you met Anise, the wind says, blowing bitterly across her face. You said that we were partners but ever since you got married all you’ve done is told me to stay away. You lied.

“I haven’t--” But hasn’t she? She bites her lip. When she’d first come into her power, she’d thought that the wind was annoying and pushy and scary. But after meeting Anise, going on an adventure, and saving the world, her opinion changed. She’d begun to see the wind as a friend, someone who’d always be by her side and show her new and exciting things. But ever since their honeymoon…”Oh.”

Oh, the wind echoes. It’s stopped buffeting her and now slinks through the weeds next to her. See? You lied.

“I didn’t mean to.” Dyta lets herself fall back onto her bottom. She gingerly touches the back of her head. “Dang, you hit me pretty hard.”

The spiky leaves of the weeds hiss. I...sorry.

“Me too,” Dyta says. She looks at her hands. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend. There’s been--there’s been a lot of changes in my life lately. I admit that I’ve been spending more time with Anise than I have with you. She’s my wife and she’s really, really, really  important to me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re important too. It just means that I need to--I need to listen a little better. Can you give me some time to learn how?”

A warm breeze puffs against her cheek. You mean it? You like us both?

Dyta smiles and holds out her fingers for the wind to twine around. “I promise. I’ll do better at showing it. Maybe one adventure a month, no questions asked.”

Two.

“Two,” Dyta allows, “but only if Anise can come.”

...fine.

“Thanks, bud,” Dyta says. She gingerly stands and wipes any dirt off of her butt. “Now, what do you say we rescue that princess, huh?” She looks around, only now realizing that she’s alone at the base of the tower. “Anise?”

“Truly heartwarming,” Princess Reina calls down. Beside her, leaning out the window, is a grinning Anise. Princess Reina rests her cheek in her hand. “I’m glad you two have made up.”

Dyta’s ears are hot. “Anise! You didn’t wait for me?”

“You were busy,” Anise says, still grinning. She brings out a cookie and takes a bite. “Reina had snacks.”

She’s also got chamomile, the wind whispers against Dyta’s cheek. Your favorite.

There’s a crashing from the woods behind her, the sound of men on horseback. Dyta presses her lips into a thin line. “Oh great, now they’re here. Are we going to have to fight them off?”

“Probably not,” Anise says. “We already sent off a letter to the King. The royal guards should stop the game soon.”

“I can only imagine the look on his face when he realizes I won,” Reina says. Her eyes sparkle. “Oh, he’s going to hate it!”

Daddy issues, the wind hisses.

“I know, right?” Dyta mutters. She makes grabby hands at Anise. “I don’t want to be down here when those criminals arrive. Help me up?”

Anise raises one eyebrow. “Human hair still can’t hold a human’s weight, Dyta.”

“For heaven’s--” Dyta wrinkles her nose and looks to where the wind is still playing with the weeds. “Gonna give me a hand up, partner?”

Just this once, the wind says magnanimously and catapults her high into the air.

Dyta’s not sure whose face is funnier; the Princess’ when she realizes Dyta is functionally flying or Anise’s when she realizes that she’s about to have to catch Dyta when she comes tumbling through the window.

Dyta treasures both equally.