Teng and the Princess





"So, good Sergeant, you will attend us at the ball tonight." Princess Juliska had eyes like a barn owl: large, beautiful, unflinching. She reminded him of Teng, a little.

Andrew of Salvania, Sergeant of the king's wilderness guard, bowed - but not too deeply. She was a princess, but he was her elder by probably ten years. Hard to tell with girls, though.

The Autumn day was cool, but the sun was just right. They were meeting in an alcove off the castle courtyard instead of the throne room. That suited Andrew just fine. He didn't care to be indoors much.

He saw her glance again at the fresh scar on his whiskered cheek. She seemed quite taken with it in an unsettling way. He could tell she was dying to know.

He touched the scar and said, "Troll got too close last week. It was my own fault; I'm much, much faster than a hill troll fattening up for his winter sleep."

Her eyes never changed, but her mouth softened, almost like her lips wanted to say something. It lasted a second, an eyeblink, then she resumed her carefully reserved mask. "We thank you for your brave service."

At her side, one of the skinny, overdressed fops shifted and brought a perfumed handkerchief to his nose. Maybe he was one of her advisers or hairdressers. Or both. Hell, who was who in this place?

Andrew said, "I am afraid I don't have attire suitable for your company." He looked down at scarred boots and a patched knee. He probably smelled like a troll.

She almost smiled, then she looked past him and gasped. The fops gasped too and scattered. Only her personal guard did the right thing; he stepped forward and drew his sword.

Andrew called out in dismay and spun to face the threat.

Tengweerfanda flew in silently and landed on his sword hand. "Touchy bunch," she skweed in the ancient owl tongue still known to the wilderness guards.

Andrew turned back to the princess as Teng hopped to her usual place on his left shoulder.

"Sorry for the excitement," he said, noting the unvarnished interest in Juliska's face. The mask was gone, and a blush of excitement colored her pale skin. "This is Tengweerfanda. She scouts for me."

"Is she your pet?" The princess clapped in delight.

Juliska sat back, dismayed, as Teng squalled her reply. "Pet, indeed! I'll pet her tasty little nose." Andrew felt her talons grip his leather-clad shoulder.

"She is not my pet," Andrew said. "She is as wild as they come."

"Damned right," Teng skweed. "A wild princess. The last living daughter of High Queen Sarwindinia of Winter Mountain. Tell her. Go ahead."

"She is lovely," the princess said, leaning forward, hands clasped. "May I touch her?" The royal "we" had vanished. Interesting.

"You be nice," Andrew skweed sofly, whistling almost. "I mean it."

"Watch this," Teng said, launching off his shoulder and circling the courtyard while watchers gasped and clutched each other or ducked as if she was about to snatch off one of their fancy silk caps. Then she glided in and landed on the arm of Juliska's ornate chair, her entire flight as silent as a midnight shadow.

The princess smiled openly, and a little peep escaped as she clasped her hands to her bosom.

"Tell her I don't have all day," Teng skweed.

"Go ahead," Andrew said. "It's alright." He thought Teng was secretly enjoying all the attention.

With great care, Juliska reached out and ran a bejeweled finger along Teng's wing.

"Amazing," she said in a dreamy voice. "Is she hungry? What can we give her?"

"That's more like it," Teng peeped. "I like this one."

"She eats raw meat, milady."

"You, Ferdinand," the princess leaped back into her royal persona and waved a lovely hand toward a young valet, her bracelets jangling, "Fetch us some meat for this lovely creature."

"Now this is the life," Teng chirped, bobbing her head and eliciting a delighted squeal from Juliska. "Maybe we should live here for a while. Don't mess this up, ya hear me?"



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