The Shoemaker bowed so fast his neck snapped backwards. “Princess,” he said before dropping down for a second bow. “I’m honored.”

“I don’t tend to shop locally,” she said, gliding into the store. Without looking, she waved away three members of the red-uniformed palace guard who had begun to follow her through the door. “Wait outside, boys. No, I favor a real city when I need to refresh my wardrobe.”

She passed by the work table full of basic browns and lit upon the high shelf with the fancy footwear. “Shoes are a problem, however. They wear out so quickly, and it’s tedious to discover you don’t like the fit after returning home. I have a pair of slippers whose looks I simply adore, but I can’t bear to put them on. The soles are so hard and slick, they might as well be made of glass. So here I am, Shoemaker.”

“Yes, milady,” the Shoemaker said.

“This one.” She picked up one of the pointed black shoes Rob had noticed earlier. “You made this?”

“Yes, I—”

“Elves!” the grandfather interjected.

The Shoemaker tugged nervously at his tunic. “Son, take your grandfather into the back while I tend the Princess.”

“Elves!” he rasped again as the boy steered him through the door that led to the rest of the house. “Elves!”

The Princess picked up another shoe. “Are the rumors true, then?” she said once the old man’s hoarse call could no longer be heard. “Elves make your shoes?”

“I apologize, milady. My father—he’s not been himself.”

“Indeed. But your shop is named the Elven Shoemaker, or am I mistaken?”

“Yes, milady. I mean, no, milady. That is the name that’s been passed down for many generations of shoemakers, but I craft the shoes, as my father did before me, and as my son will do after I’ve laid down my tools.”

“I think I liked it better when I thought your shoes were been made by elves. Can we pretend?” she purred.

“Yes, milady.”

She held out the slipper. “What do you think of this one?” she asked of the room. Zev was the first to reply.

“On you? Smokin’, Princess,” he said.

Rob elbowed him in the ribs. “Cool it,” he murmured. “A princess, glass shoes? I don’t think you know who you’re talking to.”

“Sure I do,” Zev said. “She’s Cynda. Married to that charming dude, you know? The Prince.”

“You,” the Princess said, casually letting go of the shoe and allowing it to fall to the floor. “I know you as well, though I failed to recognize your face in the street. You played at the market, with those other musicians.”

Zev pointed both thumbs at his chest. “Wolf at the Door, that’s our band! I play bass lute, do some vocals.”

“The songs were foreign to our ears, but we appreciated your enthusiasm. Will you be playing tonight?”

“We don’t have a gig, so I think we’re just going to jam, see if we can make it through Freebird without stopping.”

“You’re teaching them to play Freebird?” Rob said.

“We’re coming along. I mean, it’s not perfect or anything, but—”

The Princess sidled up to Zev while the Shoemaker scurried to pick up the dropped shoe. “Is this one a musician as well?” she asked Zev, pointing at Rob.

“Nah, my cousin’s too smart for that. He’s a doc.”

“Doctor!” Cynda’s face lit up, her eyes sparkled, and while Rob wouldn’t swear to it, her bosom seemed to puff out against the confines of her tunic. “At last we meet.”

Rob took her outstretched hand and leaned forward in an awkward bow. The Shoemaker had made it look easy; Rob would have to practice before venturing near the palace again. “Very nice to meet you, Princess.”

“Oh, call me Cynda. You practically qualify as a noble. Now doctor, the court is abuzz with your exploits, yet you never visit.”

“Is someone there sick?” Rob asked.

“No,” Cynda drawled. “Just bored, and dying for interesting company.”

“Work keeps me busy.”

“And you’re scared of the Chancellor,” she said, winking so slightly Rob couldn’t be certain if she was flirting.

“He is a little intimidating,” Rob said.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s harmless. Well, perhaps not harmless, but he wouldn’t dare harm anyone under my favor. Do visit us, won’t you?”

Rob nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m going to hold you to your word,” she said, wagging a finger just a hairsbreadth too close to his face. “Shoemaker? Oh, Shoemaker?”

The Shoemaker had replaced the shoe back on its shelf and was busily straightening the tools on his work bench. “Yes, milady?”

“I’ll need some shoes, please. Ones that I like.”

“Yes, milady. Shall I take measure of your feet, or . . .”

“I think not,” she snapped. “I’ll have plaster casts of my feet sent over. You may measure those. Now I—what is that racket?”

Outside, an argument between Cynda’s guards and someone trying to enter the store had grown heated. Heated turned explosive as one of Cynda’s men flew horizontally past the shop window.

The door swung open, revealing a grim-visaged Maggie steering one of the guards into the store. She had a pinch-grip on his ear, and Rob could hear a high-pitched squeal coming from between his clenched teeth. Out on the street, another guard hunched over, whimpering while clutching at his crotch, while the final member of the trio stumbled to the door with hate painted across his face.

“Robert, can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes?” Maggie said, her braid whipping behind her like a hyper-alert snake. “I saw a crowd gathered outside, and somehow you’re in the middle of it.”

“I’m fine,” Rob said. “I’m working. Or trying to, at least. Cynda?”

“Guards,” the Princess said in a bored voice. “It’s not nice to hit ladies. Even if they dress as if they might welcome such a thing.”

But the guard in the doorway either didn’t or wouldn’t hear her command. He reached for his sword, a short, broad slab of metal—more of a club with a pointy end—and dragged it out of its scabbard. In a flash, Maggie threw out an elbow, slamming it into the guard’s nose. As he dropped his sword to staunch the rush of blood, Maggie quick-drew her axe from her belt and held it ready to strike, all the while retaining her grip on the other guard’s ear.

“My,” Cynda said over the sounds of labored breathing and odd cries of pain. “Guess who just drew sentry duty tonight? Pick yourselves up, boys. There’s no danger here, I’m guessing, and you’ll only embarrass yourselves by continuing to struggle.”

“Maggie,” Rob said. “Let the man alone.”

She looked from the guard she held by an ear to the guard clutching his bloody nose. “Which one?” she asked in a deadpan voice.

“Both, if you wouldn’t mind,” Cynda said. “Maggie? You must be Magda the Spinster, daughter of that herbalist crone.”

Maggie lowered her axe while releasing the guard’s ear, dropping him to the floor. “Magda the Red,” she growled, looking fierce in a tousled, post-battle sort of way.

“Yes, of course. And your dress is as tawdry as I’ve been led to believe. I’m surprised anyone lets you in the gates dressed like that. At least during the daytime.”

Maggie took a step toward Cynda. “Nobody’s ever tried to stop me.”

Holding her ground, Cynda arched an eyebrow at Rob while keeping Maggie locked in her sights. “Doctor, is this wildwoman under your charge? I didn’t realize you had aspirations so far below your station.”

“Hey!” Rob said, moving between the two women before they could square off. The differences between them were striking. Maggie stood tall while Cynda, even with her peaked hat, rose only to a moderate height. Maggie’s clothes were practical, and in most social circles, immodest for a woman, while Cynda wore the finest, most richly-dyed fabrics money could buy.

Maggie sported big shoulders and a chiseled face, while Cynda presented a curvier figure, with hips and a bust line that would turn heads the world over. Maggie was broad where Cynda was narrow; hard and square where the Princess was soft and round.

Despite their physical differences, both women had fire in their bellies, and neither showed any sign of backing down.

“Wait a minute. Wait. Just. A minute,” Rob said, drawing out his words while he scrambled to come up with a good reason why they shouldn’t claw each others’ faces off.

“Girl fight!” Zev shouted. “Sweet! I wish I’d brought my camera. Hey, shoe dude, you ought to sell tickets for all the folks peeking in your shop.”

Everyone except Zev turned their heads toward the sea of faces—or at least a good-sized pond of them—watching the drama unfold through the Shoemaker’s window. Maggie and Cynda both retreated a step while Rob breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shoemaker,” Cynda called out, her voice loud enough so the crowd outside could hear. “I’ll want those shoes before the Harvest Grand Ball. Doctor, you’re invited, of course. Perhaps you could accompany me if you lack a companion of suitable femininity? My husband detests these kind of events and would rather spend all of his time playing with his soldiers.”

“I’ll have to check my calendar.”

“Very well,” Cynda said. “You, there, musician. Come play for me while I take my afternoon meal.”

“Love to, Princess,” Zev said, his mouth twisted into a frown. “But I’m kinda already working today.”

“I’ll double your pay.”

“Double pay? Sorry, cuz, I’m giving my two weeks notice two weeks early.” Zev turned back to Cynda. “Hey, do I get to eat lunch, too? Those honey cakes didn’t have much staying power.”

“I’ll make sure you get your fill,” she said, shooting Maggie a final, withering look. “All right, brave soldiers, arise, arise. With luck, you’ll make it back to the palace without having to square off against any more girls.”

As her guards stumbled to their feet, a grinning Zev pulled Rob aside. “Don’t wait up,” he said in an uncharacteristically low voice. “I mean, tits ahoy, you get my drift?”

“Zev, this is a bad idea. She’s married, and to a prince, of all people. Those guys don’t like competition, let me tell you.”

“Dude, chill. You’re just jealous because I saw her first. Nothing’s going to happen. At least nothing she hasn’t done a few times before.”

“Zev—”

Zev clapped Rob on the back as he stared at the beautiful Princess. “Look, Rob-O, you’re living in one of these fairy tales if you think I’m going to miss out on a big ol’ piece of that.”

“But what happens if you get caught?” Rob said. “What happens when it all goes wrong?”

“Then we’ll look back on this crazy time and, ah . . .”

“Laugh?” Rob suggested.

“Nah, I was going to say wince. But hey, way to look on the bright side!” And with that, Zev bounced out of the Elven Shoemaker to keep his lunch date with a princess.