“Does anyone live here?” she wondered quietly. “Aside from the king and the other constructs?”

“No one else, no.”

“What, no villages or cities?” she cried in astonishment. “No peasants or nobles? Really? The Wizard King is a king of none?”

“That doesn’t mean that he’s not powerful,” he was quick to warn her, his voice stern and cutting.

Autumn shrank back. The knight had turned to look at her properly now, twisted in his seat, and he was scowling. “You have no reason to fear him, your Highness, but do not underestimate him. He is the Wizard King. As long as you’re on his lands, he gets to preside over your life and death.”

His gaze on her was intense, burning with a wealth of emotions, and Autumn felt liquid fire curl its way down her spine. Her breath caught and she had to look away lest she say something ill-advised. This was inconvenient. She suddenly wished that she had met this brave and bold knight under other circumstances.

Her eyes landed on his large hands clenched around the horses’ reins. They were shaking.

“Are you scared of him?” she inquired quietly.

The heat of his stare finally slid away from the side of her face. He looked forward once more. His arm, pressed to her shoulder, remained tense.

“Of course I am. The king made me, and can unmake me at any time,” he replied just as quietly. “If I don’t displease him, then he’ll send me to meet the armies that constantly try to invade. I will be forced to kill his enemies before being killed myself. And sometimes, he just gets bored. Constructs that haven’t done anything wrong disappear with no warning. He makes new ones and he doesn’t say anything about it, leaving us to wonder.”

Autumn felt sick. She cast her gaze aside, trying to think of something else to say, anything that may break this unbearable silence that had now fallen upon them. Her eyes landed on the black mask, which had been discarded next to the knight on the seat. From here, she could see its surface more clearly. It appeared to be covered in fabric — more specifically, velvet, which puzzled her. Such an expensive fabric, for this use? Autumn bent over the edge of her seat, stretching her hand out to touch it, but found herself just a little bit too short. The construct, noticing her movements, picked the mask up and silently handed it to her.

“Oh,” she said, cradling it carefully in her hands. “I apologize, I did not mean to— to be rude. I was merely curious.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her, smiling softly. “I am not offended. You may examine it at your leisure.”

She bit her lip and nodded, feeling uncharacteristically shy. She did not know what had possessed her to suddenly grab at something so personnal as the construct’s mask, but the sight of the soft velvety surface had awaked in her such a strong urge to caress it that she had not stopped to think before reaching out. She ran her fingers over its curves now, finding the fabric cold to the touch. Tiny beads of moisture were starting to gather on the surface of the fibers from the mist surrounding them. This will ruin the fabric, she thought, and wondered again at this choice of material. She turned the mask over in her hands, and was surprised to find a small strip of leather affixed where a person’s lips would be, at the end of which was sown a single, round button.

She reached back over the backrest of the seat and showed the mask to the knight, pointing at the button in beffludement. “What is this for?” she asked.

“It’s how you hold it to your face,” he replied, as if that were something obvious. “You pinch the button in between your teeth. Have you never…” he hesitated, then changed track. “Are masks different, where you come from?”

Autumn felt herself recoil from this answer, appalled. “Yes! They have laces that go around your head, or loop behind your ears! Not… bits!”

The man blinked at her. “You mean that they attach like the bridles on horses?” he asked. “Wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

“Of course not! Not if you tie them correctly. Besides, it is far more practical. Wouldn’t the button… doesn’t it prevent you from speaking?”

“I suppose so…” he said, “but that is hardly an issue. We only wear the masks when we interact with the outside, and we are not supposed to speak then anyhow. Even if they attached around our heads, it would not change our instructions. In a way, it makes it easier to remember, when we have something in our mouth.”

Autumn stared at him. “But you spoke,” she pointed out. “You asked for me.”

The construct dipped his head, something guilty flashing across his face. “I was not supposed to. But I did not wish you to feel ill at ease. I… I thought that it would make a poor first impression, if you were frightened.”

Something within her softened. “That was very kind of you. Thank you.”

They shared a smile. It seemed to her that a spark, warm and heavy and full of promises, passed between them. Then the knight seemed to remember himself, and hurriedly turned his eyes back to the road. Autumn took the hint, although she was loathe to. She dropped the mask onto the bench then sat back down, properly back-to-back with him once more, and huddled into her cloak. They journeyed the rest of the way in silence.