The cursed forest coming to life was indeed quite a sight to see. At first everything was still, but then the bushes began to stir, followed by the ancient trees. With low creaks and groans that sent a shiver down Autumn’s spine, the dense undergrowth parted in a slow wave, forming a shadowy archway of tangled branches and rustling leaves. Beyond this arch was revealed a road of packed earth, which she could have sworn had not existed moments before. It was much darker inside the forest that she had expected, and she could scarcely see in the gloom, but she could hear the clattering of hooves and wheels getting louder. A shape soon detached itself from the shadows, and a black carriage pulled by even blacker horses came rolling down the path. The coachman brought it to a gentle stop a few paces before the edge of the woods, where the shade ended and the sun began. He dismounted, seemed to hesitate, and then walked forward.

A jolt of unease passed among her group as the creature stepped out of the tree’s sinister archway. As he came into the light, Autumn realized that this man was nothing like she had expected the Wizard King’s servants to be. He was slender, for one. Tall, but not terribly large or intimidating, even with the long antlers that seemed to grow out of his head. She was oddly excited at the sight. Aside from the moving trees, this pair of deer antlers was the first truly magical thing that she had ever seen in her life. In the rosy morning light, it did not seem very threatening at all. Rather, the man looked as if he ought to be part of a fairytale.

He wore a padded leather armour in the deep blacks that she had expected from the Evil King, but cut through with bright, surprising shades of brown and silver. The sword hung at his belt marked him for a knight, or at least some manner of guard. His mask was midnight black, cut in a simple shape: a long curved surface, a small nose, and two round eyes, without embelishments. She had expected it to look scarier, like the grotesque and off-putting clay masks donned by actors in the plays of her youth, or the nightmarish visions brought to life by the court’s painters. This blank surface, devoid of all personality, she did not know what to do with. It looked eerily matte at this distance, as if whatever material it was made of did not reflect any light at all, and when the creature turned his head, she could not see any ties or laces attaching it to his head either. A frisson of discomfort ran through her body as she was seized by the grotesque thought that this black emptiness of a surface might be his face.

The creature hesitated again as he looked at all of them assembled in a semicircle around her luggage. Then, he did the most peculiar thing. As they waited in tense silence, he reached up to his mask — and removed it.

There was a collective intake of breath. Shock for most of those assembled. Relief, for Autumn, at her wild imaginings being so swiftly disproven. At her sides, she could feel Summer and Winter shift in discomfort. She had never heard of such a thing happening before. The king’s servants had always appeared to the people of Esternia with their faces covered, for as far back as their history remembered. Now that she could see what had been hidden behind the mask’s inscrutable void, Autumn thought that she understood why. No one could ever look this young knight in the face and believe that he was a servant of evil.

He seemed barely out of boyhood and terribly unsure of himself. His movements, as he turned to place the mask down on the carriage’s bench, had the gentleness of uncertainty, and his lips were bitten and raw. He had russet hair and the hint of a beard, as well as large dark eyes. His ears, she noticed as he turned his head once more to survey them, were inhumanly long and pointed at the tip. Just like the antlers, these were not upsetting. They were, in fact, oddly charming.

“Which one of you is Princess Autumn?” he asked, in a deep but shy rumble of a voice.

Once again, Autumn’s relatives shifted in discomfort. Had anyone ever heard a servant of the dark king speak, she wondered? Had the stories, in which they were always silent, been lying, or was this day going to be remembered as an aberration? Not to mention that despite his pleasant tone, the knight’s words had been terribly rude, as far as greetings went. He hadn’t acknowledged her mother the queen at all, and had skipped at least twenty minutes of what Autumn considered prerequisite small talk before getting to the matter at hand. In court, he would have been skewered for this lack of etiquette. But really, what else could they expect from one of the Wizard King’s beasts?

She took a deep breath and jutted her chin up, gathering her courage. “That would be me,” she said.

The creature looked at her, his large eyes not quite human, but expressive nonetheless. He seemed… eager. His bearing became lighter, his shoulders relaxed. He bowed to her, now incongruously courteous. She dug her nails into her sister’s palms.

“It is an honour to meet you, your Highness,” he said, straightening up. “I am a construct of the Wizard King. He has sent me to escort you to his castle; as long as you are with me, you will be granted safe passage through his lands.”

He ran his eyes over the rest of the assembled group. “In two months’ time, if need be, more constructs will be sent to bring your family up to the castle for your wedding.”

If need be. She exchanged a glance with her mother. The queen’s lips pressed together as something hard overtook her expression.

“Indeed,” said the woman. “Well then, let’s get going. We don’t have all day.”

She bent to grab one of Autumn’s bags and boldly dragged it up to the carriage. The knight seemed to startle at that, and he hurried to wrestle the luggage out of the aging queen’s hands. They had chosen to forego servants for this, preferring to send Autumn off with only her family and close friends as witnesses. On the heels of her mother, her brothers-in-law busied themselves while Autumn exchanged one last teary hug with her sisters and ladies-in-waiting.

She really didn’t have that much left to her name. A few bags, a trunk. Some jewels and letters stuffed into her pockets. Autumn had had to leave most of her books behind, although she had chosen to bring a few journals and some ink with her, just in case she actually had the chance to fill them.

After the teary goodbyes came the dry ones. Her in-laws bowed and shook their heads. Her mother tugged at her brooch once more and told her with stern certainty that they would see each other again in two months’ time.

Autumn smiled and nodded, kept the screams and tears firmly lodged right behind her teeth, then turned her back to them and walked stiffly through the impossible archway. As soon as she stepped into the gloom, the air felt cooler on her skin, the wind more biting. She told herself that she was being silly. She gave the tall, midnight-black horses a wide berth, then climbed into the carriage with as much dignity as she could still muster.

The vehicle was a small affair, with only two wheels and a padded bench for her to sit on with her back to the driver, luggage at her feet. It didn’t have an enclosed box, as she had come to expect carriages to be, but it did have a pointed little wooden roof held up by four posts. There was moss growing on the top of it, a testament to how seldom it must have been used. She batted away a vine that snaked down to the bench with irritation. The knight, whose keen eyes had been following her, climbed into the front seat. He picked up the reins of the horses, shifted his weight. Hesitated, again.

“Do you need more time?” he whispered to her, low enough that her family wouldn’t hear.

Autumn blinked her dry eyes. Her sisters had both turned away by now, clinging to their husbands and wailing. Her (former) ladies-in-waiting looked devastated. Her mother the queen was glaring up at the sun, hands clenched. It occurred to her, belatedly, that she might die in the same land and at the same hands that had killed her father. She felt some sort of way about this, but decided to turn away from those emotions instead of considering them, as they would not be useful for the task that awaited her.

“I’m fine,” she answered, just as quietly. “Let’s go.”