I woke up with the taste of dirt in my mouth and the distinct sensation that my brain had been kicked by a drunk centaur in heat.

“He’s awake!” a familiar voice announced, like the grand finale of a school play directed by an overexcited bard.

I blinked slowly, trying to convince my eyelids to cooperate with the rest of my body.

Jonka.

Sitting cross-legged beside me like an eccentric forest sage, waving a bundle of something herbal in my face. The scent was sweet and woody — maybe mint, maybe magical provocation.

“Hatrellon the Magnificent. Victor of the Epic Battle Against the Wooden Dummy™... fainted in glorious triumph. A tragic legend in the making.”

“My head hurts. And you have way too much energy. Clearly, someone here made a better pact with life,” I muttered, trying to sit up.

She leaned in like she was going to help — for exactly three seconds — before expertly plucking the hat off my head.

The hat.

The frog hat.

She held it like it was a sacred relic lost to time, eyes sparkling with mischief. And then, without asking (obviously), she placed it on her own head with a solemnity completely disproportionate to the moment.

It was far too big for her. The brim flopped awkwardly to the sides, and the stitched frog-eye tilted slightly off-center. Still, Jonka raised her chin like a sorceress queen, defying all fashion norms with a child’s accessory.

“You’re still wearing this frog hat? What are you trying to say with it? ‘Warning: unsupervised magical child’?”

“I’m trying to say ‘don’t bother me.’ Clearly, it’s failing miserably. And besides—” I added with a grimace, “you look absolutely ridiculous in it.”

She smiled.

But not the usual mocking grin. It was different — almost enchanted, like she genuinely liked the hat. Like for a fleeting moment, the whole world got a little lighter because of that stupid thing.

She didn’t laugh at me. She laughed like she’d just found proof the universe still had good surprises hidden in its mess.

“You should summon a magic circle for style. Might help.”

“You should summon basic self-awareness.”

She clutched her chest as if struck by an invisible arrow, staggering dramatically. Then, with a slow, almost ceremonial gesture, she removed the hat from her head and placed it back on mine.

But this time, her touch was gentler. Intentional. She adjusted it with both hands, like she was crowning me — with the kind of reverence that still carried a smirk. A small, silent ritual just for the two of us.

“You’ll need this for the next time you pass out. At least you’ll land looking... cute.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward.

I tried to stand. The world responded by rotating in slow motion, helpfully displaying every angle of my humiliation.

“It was just a blackout,” I muttered, as if saying it out loud made it less pathetic.

“Mm-hmm. A blackout. With dramatic flair. I’ll bring confetti next time.”

“You could bring silence.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

I sighed and braced my hands on my knees. She was watching with that side-smile — the one that meant “this is fun, but if you collapse again, I’m actually going to worry.”

“You gonna be okay, Froggy?”

“I will. As long as no one challenges me with enchanted branches for, say... a century. And don’t call me that.”

She offered her hand. I took it, because falling again sounded worse than accepting help.

“Come on. If you faint again, I’ll carry you. Hourly rate applies.”

“You’re extorting me.”

“A good queen must know economics!”

We walked back down to the courtyard, slowly. The kids had vanished, Flom was probably sulking somewhere, and the world seemed to have settled back into its usual brand of chaos — or close enough.

Jonka walked beside me, twirling my chalk between her fingers like it was an arcane artifact.

“That’s mine.”

“Consider it a symbolic payment for emergency services.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I distracted you with charm. That’s more than most healers can manage.”

I smiled. Just a little.

Even with the dizziness. Even with the shame.

She was annoying.

And somehow, exactly what I needed.