Page 16 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

“First of all, you have to trust the Storyteller. No complaining or arguing if the story isn’t going the way you think it should.”

He nodded. “No complaining. Got it.”

“Second, just because your ears are busy doesn’t mean your hands can be lazy.” Rana paused her needle long enough to stretch out an arm and drag over her basket of thread and ribbons. She shoved it towards his feet. “I talk, you untangle.”

He leaned forward, pulling the basket up and plopping it on his lap. His eyes widened as he took in the chaotic mess of loops and tangles. “What happened here?”

“Zade,” Rana answered, narrowing her eyes at the fox in question. He lifted his head at the sound of his name and blinked innocently, followed by an adorable, tiny yawn that revealed his sharp teeth and small pink tongue. “Not only is he a comfort-seeking menace, but he also likes to terrorize anything that resembles string.”

“And you still choose to keep him around?”

“Because he’s such a cute little baby and he’s so soft and snuggly.” Rana’s voice lifted an octave as she bent in half to bury both hands in the soft fur on either side of Zade’s face. He leaned into her scratches with a low murr, and his fluffy tail thumped against the woven rug. “Right? Cuteness covers a multitude of sins.”

Kamaran chuckled. “That’s good to know. I’ll have to keep that defense in mind.”

She straightened. “Unfortunately for you, Your Majesty, I’m afraid you’re far past the days of cuteness.”

“I never said I was talking about myself.” His eyes sparked with mischief. “Though I do find it interesting that my face is the first thing that came to your mind.”

“As an example of something that isn’t cute.”

“But you were still thinking about it.”

Rana rolled her eyes, tamping down the unexpected and rather inconvenient thrill of excitement that thrummed in her chest at their conversation. The longer she spent in his presence, caught in the intensity of his unwavering attention, the better she understood how he could have earned his reputation. “Your humility is truly a thing to behold. Do you want a story or not?”

He immediately shifted, adopting an obedient and submissive posture. “I do.”

“Then start working.” She flicked her fingers toward the basket and waited until he had selected a suitably large knot before reclaiming the makings of a dress she had abandoned. She settled back against the stack of cushions as her mind shuffled through the collection of stories her Teta had taught her over the years. A tiny smirk pulled one side of her lips up as an idea formed. She cleared her throat.

“Long ago, in a little kingdom not much different than ours, there lived a handsome prince.”

Kamaran grinned. “I like this story already.”

Rana brandished her needle. “No interruptions!”

“Of course. My deepest apologies.”

She glared at him with just enough severity to mean business. “The prince, though he had been blessed with wealth and privilege, still found himself discontent with his life, and he spent his days chasing after frivolous pastimes and beauty that wouldn’t last.”

Kamaran grimaced but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“One evening, while walking in his garden, the prince discovered a golden ball hidden amongst the roots and leaves of a rose bush. He picked it up, immediately entranced by the way it felt in his hands and the way the gold shone in the setting sun, and decided then that it would be his.

“He continued on his way, whistling merrily as he went and tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. As he drew closer to the center of the garden, however, he was surprised to hear the sound of sobbing, and not long after, he came upon a woman huddled underneath a tree with her head buried in her hands.

“As she lifted her tear-stained face, Prince Kamden⁠—”

The Sultan snickered. “What an original name.”

She cleared her throat pointedly. “Prince Kamden,” she repeated with emphasis, “was struck speechless by her beauty, which was made all the more tragic by the trail of tears that ran down her cheeks. He rushed to her side, falling to his knees beside her and asking, ‘How can I help? Are you hurt?’

“The woman took a deep, shuddering breath as she wiped her face. ‘I’ve lost something precious to me,’ she said.

“‘What is it?’ Prince Kamden asked. ‘I would be happy to help you search for it.’

“She smiled at him, and Prince Kamden felt as if the sun had emerged from behind a bank of clouds. ‘Oh, thank you! I’m looking for a golden ball.’

“‘A golden ball?’ the prince repeated. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest as he tightened his grip on the ball that was still clutched tightly in one hand. He shifted slightly, angling his shoulder to hide his hand behind his back. ‘What does it look like?’