The truth is like a lion,
you don't have to defend it.
Let it loose and it will defend itself.

The pennants that hung above King Jaspar's throne ranged from intricate designs on bold fields of color to tattered strips of cloth. The oldest was said to date back to the formation of the kingdom nearly three centuries ago. His was the last royal line of centaurs, a fact he made obvious to human visitors. Table surfaces were raised to accommodate the height of centaur nobles and all sleeping quarters had a window above the canopy beds to allow a clear view of the starlight. Jaspar sat on the throne custom built for his horse half, considering his only child with a thoughtful look.

Jenine bowed, blonde locks trembling and brushing her pure white flanks. She would not raise her gaze without a royal command.

"Rise and greet me, child."

She took care to look her father in the face without locking eyes. Even a colt knew that such a brash challenge could earn one a slap or kick. To show obvious signs of timidity was nearly as bad. Her father was a stallion of great courage, a veteran of two hard-fought wars and the conqueror of the Eastern Marsh. He would not tolerate cowardice in a child of his bloodline. She thanked the gods every night that she had not been born a son, shuddering at the thought of how much worse life could have been. "I am here as requested, Father. I will do your bidding, whatever it may be."

"You will marry on the next full moon, Daughter. Your husband is Prince Michael Tenius of Aurorna, a beardless boy, but one with many desirable qualities. You will fare better than your lady mother whose weak human body could produce only one child though she was a Mystic. You will bear many fine sons to train in our royal ways and continue the Centauri line. Your husband is only a quarter Mystic but with your almost flawless bloodline, there is no doubt in my mind that centaur blood will dominate the weaker human flesh."

Jenine bit her lip behind the curtain of her hair, using her bow of respect to hide the subtle hint of her unhappiness. "I hear and obey, Father. If it pleases you, I will marry the prince."

Jaspar snorted his pleasure and dismissed her, his mind already on more important matters. Jenine wandered the stone halls she had pranced so fearlessly in that short span of time when she had been her father's little girl. How quickly his mind had changed when her body began to betray her, taking on the qualities of both woman and mare. She managed to make it all the way to her cozy bedroom before she began to cry in earnest.

The great hall was brimming with fresh spring blossoms, their glorious scent perfuming the air to mingle with the tantalizing aroma arising from the kitchens below. The king had decreed that every guest must wear something white in honor of the princess. Those who could not afford a full white suit or gown settled for pearl necklaces or white roses made of cloth. One maiden from a distant kingdom had braided spider silk into her dark braid.

Jenine was not vain. She did not preen every time she passed a mirror nor did she insist on never wearing the same jewels more than once like so many court ladies. Even so, she could not resist sneaking glances at herself in the polished dress armor of the knight beside her. Freshly plucked daisies had been purified and straightened with just a drop of magic so that not even one petal on her wedding crown drooped. Strings of pearls draped beneath her breasts, coming together to form a V at her waist, their hearts blushing with a hint of rose that matched her cheeks perfectly. She had always been beautiful but on this day she was a living work of art.

The awe that hung over the guests to be invited to such an occasion could not outlast the demands of hungry bellies. Two hours slipped into three and still Jenine stood clutching her bouquet, anxiously staring in the direction of the wide oak doors as her father's regal frown became one of frustration, then genuine anger. His chestnut flanks heaved as his guests began to slip out one at a time, doing their best not to draw notice to themselves and failing miserably. Jaspar snapped his fingers at a dark-haired knight with a coal coat.

"I want you to take down the names of every lord and lady that would so disrespect the Princess."

A pair of lords in red capes froze at the door, slinking back to their seats with sheepish glances at the king. Not even royal threats could keep the remaining nobility in place when the fifth hour struck with no sign of the prince.

Jaspar grabbed at a string of lilies, ripping them free and throwing them at his daughter's feet. "King Reginald will answer for his son, this I swear! I will not have such embarrassment laid upon my family name! There are other, more worthy lords who will not shun such a union."

Jenine paled. The youngest member of the centaur nobility with a rank higher than baron was nearly twice her age. Luckily, her father was too concerned with his own outrage to take any notice of his daughter's reaction. She raised no protest as the maids came to lead her away, exchanging her pretty gown for a plainer blue cotton dress and carefully tucking the wedding jewels away in the royal vault.

She went to the one place where she truly felt at peace. The garden tower had a small dome built to house little ceramic pots containing miniature trees. These were the only things left by her mother, a lonely girl in a land hostile to full-blooded humans. Jenine loved to sit amidst the artful plants though she never could bring herself to touch them. A special gardener was kept on staff to care for the trees and none had ever died beneath his care.

Jenine was admiring the pyramid shape of a tiny conifer when she spotted the figures galloping out the front gate, wearing the spiked helmets of Aurornans. She did not stop to think. These were the men sent to prepare quarters for their master, the man who had left her standing by the alter. A pang of guilt shot through her as she silently galloped across the courtyard. Her father would be beside himself when he discovered her disappearance but she could not let these foreigners escape on their dumb beasts without some kind of answer.

She wondered deep down if some small portion of her father's courage hadn't made it into her heart at last.

She did not fear the canopy of trees above her head though night was falling. Love of the natural world is rooted in the heart of all centaurs, a link to their wild roots that civilization cannot break. Soft moss formed a bed beneath the sheltering curtain of a willow's branches. A few birds chirped sleepy greetings as she settled into a comfortable position, pillowing her head on her arm.

She had always loved birds, taking bread crumbs to the flock in the courtyard and insisting no nest within the castle gardens ever be disturbed. A few of the more daring sparrows would sometimes eat from her hands.

They woke her with a musical salute to morning but it was not birdsong that brought her to her feet. A string of curses rose from a nearby stream, followed by the splash of hooves slapping the water. Jenine held the curtain aside, peering out with caution.

The stranger was a centaur but he was no noble. There were burrs in his golden tail and his chest was smeared with dirt. He ran his hands along a length of fishing net, cursing again as his arm was buried up to his elbow in frayed rope.

"Blasted humans, tromping through the forest like drunk bears, destroying everything they touch. By the Lady's rump, there's another hole! It will take me weeks to repair this."

Deneider's nostrils flared and he looked up, meeting Jenine's eyes fearlessly. "A mare in the woods. Separated from your herd, I suppose."

Jenine shook her head, unable to hold his gaze. "I'm looking for some men. I think they passed this way..."

"The Aurornans?" He snorted with disgust. "What do you want with that bunch of colt killers? They turn most of their stallions into geldings, you know. They think they can breed good traits into a horse, though they usually do the opposite. They treat their human servants even worse. What does a fine filly like you want with those brutes?"

She flicked her tail in annoyance. "Prince Michael left me standing at the altar and I demand to know why." She blushed and looked down at her feet, embarrassed by her outburst. "I was following the hoofprints of the horses but they went off the trail into the grass and I've lost them. I don't even know which direction they went."

Deneider bowed. "Your Majesty."

Jenine's blush deepened. "Please don't. You were talking to me as a person and it was quite nice. And call me Jenine, or Princess, if you must."

He grinned, running a hand through his mane and casting aside a leaf that came loose. "Deneider Starglobe at your service, Princess. You've done quite well for someone not used to tracking. The knights are about half a mile ahead, traveling southeast at a rapid pace. They are undoubtedly in a hurry to return to their master. There is only one reputable castle in that sector of land and the Duchess in residence is half Aurornan. I should warn you that Duchess Fennerel is no friend to centaurs, regardless of their rank."

"She would not dare turn away the daughter of a king, surely."

Deneider shrugged. "She is human. She needs no excuse for bad behavior."

Jenine did not like his attitude but could not deny she was hopeless as a tracker. She wasn't even entirely certain which direction she was traveling as they moved deeper into the forest. She let Deneider take the lead, admiring the shade patches filled with delicate fern fronds and little blue mushroom caps. Patches of sunlight allowed the occasional burst of color but for the most part, this area saw little sun.

The change to more sunny surroundings was gradual as they continued to follow a trail that seemed visible only to Deneider. Try as she might, Jenine could make no sense of bent twig bits and slightly bent grass stems. To Deneider, they told tales worthy of thick leather tomes.

They passed over a stone bridge shaped from lilac slabs of stone, coming to a cottage that had nearly returned to the forest. The windows were overgrown with ivy and the roof was partially collapsed. Scraps of food littered the ground. A pair of red squirrels abandoned their scavenging as Deneider and Jenine came into view, scolding from safe perches overhead. Deneider pointed out indentations in the grass.

"This must have been pre-arranged as a place to meet. The tracks I've been following were of two men. These five beds of crushed grass were here for a while. Their progress will be slowed by greater numbers and they have little reason to concern themselves with bandits. Where they are going, the land is open fields. You can see for miles."

"We should speed up. We may be able to catch them without ever having to speak to that Duchess."

Deneider frowned. "That would be unwise. Night is approaching and the Duchess will surely have sentries patrolling her lands. They are the sort of men trained to shoot by instinct. She is a superstitious old...never mind. It's just safer for me not to be spotted by her men."

"What is it, Deneider? What are you not telling me?"

She had never seen him uneasy. He had such a rugged confidence, building a good cook fire without once singing his fingertips and gutting a fish with a single swipe of the knife. Jenine had begun to believe the forester was incapable of embarrassment. "It happened when I was just a colt with the stringy arms of a boy. I used to be friends with her son, until he tried to ride me once. I gave him a nip on the arm, a gentle one. Garrett ran home howling and his lady mother came dashing out of the castle with a torch, convinced that if she managed to set my tail on fire, she could prevent any demons from inhabiting her son." He snorted. "Like I said, she's highly superstitious."

Jenine hadn't laughed so hard since her days in the royal nursery, listening to stories of a family of dragons. Deneider cracked a smile. "Why waste a night in cramped castle walls when we can lie beneath the stars. Have you ever heard the story of the how the constellations were formed?"

He told of the six brothers and sisters living on the highest mountain peak in the land, moving to tales of tiny sprites that stood no higher than a centaur's thumb and great sparkling boulders with stone lips that could form simple words. They were fairy tales that could be found in no collection of royal etiquette tips, the usual reading material of a Princess. Jenine ceased to wonder about the castle in the distance as he spun a new world for her, one filled with magic. He even pulled out a little wooden flute as the moon crested the distant hills, playing a tune that was somehow both joyous and melancholy.

Jenine woke to the sound of harsh laughter. She caught Deneider's eye. The forester was tensed, staring at a speck of orange only a few feet away.

"A few servants too far into their ale, Princess. They'll not bother us if we keep quiet." Though he spoke in barely a whisper, Jenine's keen ears heard every word.

A loud chorus of laughter cut off her reply. They could hear the men clearly, their slurred voices bearing a heavy Aurornan accent.

"I can't believe my father would even consider an alliance with those batty Velturians. Duchess Fennerel is even more batty than the stories claim and Lady Agustina her daughter is fat as a pig."

"Come off it, Prince. You kissed her hand like you was trying to attach your lips."

The Prince's eye roll was implied in his tone. "If you hadn't been raised in a barn yourself, Sir Anseley, you might have some idea how the code of chivalry works. I can wish half the girls in the kingdom would fall into the Crystalline Pits as long as I smile and compliment them to their faces."

"It could've been worse. You were almost married to that beast.

"I told you never to speak of that, Sir Lisand. My father was clearly too drunk to make decisions when he signed King Jaspar's contract. I don't care what the royal records say about my grandmother. No member of my family ever mounted a horse."

The men guffawed. Jenine turned to walk away, but not quickly enough. Prince Michael stood, his bony face illuminated by firelight. It was not just the play of light and shadow that gave the boy a sinister look. The set of his jaw and the squint of his eyes told a story of cruelty that made the young Princess shudder. She could not believe her father would give her to this monster.

Deneider had been at her side the whole time, listening to every word with nostrils flaring. He waited until they were alone in a little clearing, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I could kill them all for you, Princess. Would you like that? I'd be more than happy to make you a string from their hair, to ornament your own."

She shook her head, too upset to speak. He moved until their flanks were touching, tan hair mingling with white. His arm wrapped more securely around her shoulders.

The drunkards fell asleep, leaving the forest silent once again. Deneider followed as Jenine turned in the direction from which they'd come. The tears streaming from her eyes left silver trails in the moonlight.

"I made you come all this way for nothing. Father will be furious and all I have to show is that I'm not worthy of a Prince. He didn't even want to look at me. He hated me even though he never saw me."

Deneider cupped her face in his hands. "You are the most beautiful creature in field or forest. I thought nothing could rival the light of the stars until I saw you, Jenine. You are a comet fallen to earth, one made of pure starlight, and no human is worthy of you. Leave your father's lands to the bickering old nags and rule over the forest with me. We will return the royal line of centaurs to nature, where we belong. I cannot offer you a circlet of gold, but I promise you one of fresh blossoms and branches woven from new growth."

What a splendid crown he weaved, placing it with pride on the snowy brow of his bride.

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