Quentin smiled and glanced at his Queen. “Oh, you must go, Father! You must!” cried Princess Brianna and Princess Elena.

“Yes,” agreed Bria. “Lead them, my lord.”

“Very well,” said Quentin. “I will ride!” He made to leave the pavilion and mount Blazer. Another hurrah went up from the throng.

“The King will ride!” they shouted. Actually Quentin rode every year, but it was always custom that the contestants ask him to ride and offer him the lead. Usually he rode only for a short while and then returned to officiate over the other games.

“Are you coming, Durwin?” Quentin asked as he descended from the pavilion.

“I am getting too old for breaking my neck on horseback. Leave it to the younger men. I shall wait here for your return.”

“Durwin!” the crowd called. “Let Durwin ride with us! Durwin! Durwin!” The call became a chant.

“You see, they want you, Durwin. You would disappoint them?”

“Very well, I will ride. Lead on.” He followed Quentin down to the field.

As they were mounted and making ready to gallop off, Quentin looked to his side and saw his son beaming at him, his young face shining with anticipation. “What is this?”

“I am riding, too, Father. That is your surprise!”

Before Quentin could speak, Toli, sitting next to the Prince, said, “We have been practicing for weeks, my lord. Your son has become a fine horseman.”

“Is it true?” He stared at his son.

The boy burst out laughing. “If you could see the bruises I have endured, you would know the truth of it!”

Quentin did not know what to say. He glanced to Bria, who was attending the scene from her seat with a worried look on her face. Quentin scratched his jaw and seemed about to overrule the enterprise. He looked to Toli “Do you think it wise?” Prince Gerin bit his lip.

“Sire, I would not allow it if I thought he would be in danger. He can handle himself and his mount, never fear. And I will ride with him just to make sure. I will not allow him away from me for an instant

Quentin nodded, his eyes on the boy. The intense hope the youngster carried within him burned out of his eyes like a flame. How could he be denied?

“As you will,” said Quentin, breaking into a grin when he saw how much his approval meant to the lad. “You shall ride. And I hope you find the biggest trophy!”

“For you, Father. I want to find one for you!”

“Toli, watch after him. And you, young sir, do as Toli tells you.”

They made their way among the other riders to the end of the field-the King in the lead with Durwin on one side and Prince Gerin and Toli on the other. When they were in position, the King raised his hand and the Marshal of the Hunt blew his horn. "To the hunt!” they cried, and all at once the horses leapt away, thundering off across the plain toward Pelgrin Forest.

The thump of the horses’ hooves on the plain pounded out a drumbeat, and the people cheered as the hunters flew away into the forest. Once they reached the foremost fringes of the wood, Quentin hung back and let the others go ahead. Those after game dashed ahead first, lances at the ready, searching out trails among the dark branches. Hot behind them came the trophy seekers who spread out to ride alone to secret places where they hoped a prize would be found.

“What are you waiting for?” shouted Quentin to his son, who also hesitated at the edge of the wood. “Away! Fly!”

The youngster snapped the reins, and Tarky dashed away; Toli was right behind him. “He is growing up, Sire,” said Durwin at Quentin’s shoulder.

“Too fast, I sometimes think.” He smiled after his son. “Look at him go!”

“He reminds me of another young man I met-could it be that long ago? He also had a brown mare, as I remember.”

“But he did not ride that well-as I remember.”

“So it is! But he had the will to try, and a stout heart in his young frame.”

“Stubborn, you mean,” laughed Quentin. “How we have changed, old friend.”

“Yes, changed a little. But still very much the same.” The hermit snapped his reins. “Come along. Let us see how the young master fares. Keep up if you can!” With that he darted off.

“Is that any way to speak to your King, you grizzled old hermit!” Quentin shouted alter him. He spurred Blazer and sped into the cool green wood.

“IT is such a lovely day, my Lady. Do you not wish to join the others at the festival?” Chloe came quietly up behind Esme as she gazed unseeing out upon the plain, ablossom with scores of colored tents. “See, the hunt has already begun.”

They watched the line of horses and riders galloping in a long sinuous wave over the Plain of Askelon. After a moment Esme replied absently, “You may go, Chloe, if you like. I think I will remain…”

“Oh, do come, my Lady. You would enjoy it. You would, I know.”

“Ah,” Esme sighed, “to please you. Very well, I will go.”

As the day was gentle, they decided to walk, making their way through empty streets to the festival field. Chloe kept up a running banter all the way, talking of this or that small thing she had noticed in the Dragon King’s household, comparing it to what she knew of other royal houses.

Esme listened with half an ear, letting her maid chirp on like a sparrow, happy not to have to think at all, but just listen. Her dark mood of the night before had returned with the morning. And though she tried to master it, she found it engulfed her more securely than she guessed. For try as she might, she could not banish it from her.

So, with no hope of ridding herself of it, and lacking the immediate strength to fight it, she merely gave herself over to the despair she felt and let it tug her along where it would. What am I to do? she thought. What am I to do? She had, with the death of her husband, inherited vast holdings of lands. Several small villages were under her protection, as well as a castle and a summer estate, each with a full complement of stewards, overseers, and servants. Her treasury was one of the largest in Elsendor. But all this she would have given up gladly, if only it would have offered her a glimmer of hope for happiness. “Do not frown so, my Lady,” said Chloe. “What?” Esme pulled herself out of her gloomy thoughts. “Promise me you will try to enjoy the occasion.” Esme smiled. “I shall try. I know it is not seemly for a lady to scowl like a haggard.” She sighed again. “Oh, Chloe, what am I going to do?”

Once at the festival site, they made their way among the yellow-and-white striped pavilions, now being jostled by the roaming populace. They walked toward the King’s pavilion, pausing to watch acrobats and jugglers, or to sample the treats of the vendors. “Lady Esme! Lady Esme!” she heard a voice call out, and turned to see the two little Princesses running to her. “We are so glad you came! Oh!” said Brianna breathlessly, “there is much to see!”

“So much to see!” said Elena. “Come with us!”

“Do you want to watch us in a game?” asked Brianna. “Oh, please,” cried Elena, “you must!”

“I would love to,” said Esme.

The girls were off again, quick as grasshoppers, darting toward a large ring of people gathered around a game of skittles.

“I am glad you changed your mind, Esme.” Bria fell into step beside her.

Esme dropped her eyes to her feet. “It was Chloe’s idea…” she said slowly. Bria heard the undertone of despair in her voice. “I must have gabbled like a fishwife last night.”

“What is a little gabbling between friends? I welcome your confidence. If you care to talk, I will listen.”

Esme did not speak again for a moment. The two women walked together in silence. “It is strange, is it not?” she said finally.

“What is?”

“Life.” Esme glanced at her friend and then turned away again quickly. “Only yesterday we had so much before us-so many bright hopes for the future, so many dreams, so much joy. Those were good days-”