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Eleanor clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She had been assured that she, the forest witch, and the witch's daughter were the only conscious things for a mile. Even if she trusted the word of the witch, her mind was afire with all of the potentially horrible things which might happen to her out here.

And she didn't trust the witch, no matter how much coin she had promised. Desperation prompted terrible choices, and this felt like the absolute worst she could have made. The sound of footsteps approaching caused the lioness' ear to swivel shortly before her head turned to see the witch's daughter emerged from the woods.

Even accounting for the mistrust, Eleanor did not believe that this girl was the witch's daughter. They weren't even the same species. Whereas the witch was a sow of advanced years, brown-skinned under a light covering of hair (which gathered mostly at her warts), the witch's daughter was an orange-furred vixen, lithe and tall.

The vixen bowed, and Eleanor sat up a little straighter. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Lady."

Eleanor stood, biting her lip to resist correcting the girl. She didn't know how much the daughter knew. The fox led the lioness back the way she had come, and the feline was grateful that her eyes had been given time to adjust to the darkness. The path was clear enough now that she was on it, but without the fox's acting as her guide should have missed it entirely.

Owing to her feline heritage, the lioness was able to move easily through the darkened woods, the path ahead was not completely concealed in shadow. There were faint lights ahead, either very small or very distant. Most likely distance, Eleanor reasoned, since she hadn't heard anything but the sounds of the forest after the witch had left to start the ritual. Her heartbeat hastened, eclipsing the rate of their steps by the time she caught sight of the she-boar's silhouette.

"It's done?" Eleanor asked, and the witch nodded her head. Taking in a deep breath, the lioness stepped toward the lights. Her progress was immediately halted by witch's hand grabbing her shoulder. For the second time she had to hold back from responding to the insult.

"I would like my reward first, and need to give you a word of caution."

Eleanor sniffed, drawing a pouch from inside her cloak. She had carefully chosen the coins that she was going to pay the witch with, coin enough to buy a horse, a cart, and a plot of land somewhere far away - some land where witchcraft and demon summoning were not punishable by death. She dropped the pouch into the witch's hands, which were already outstretched.

"In there is payment in full, now what is your word of caution?"

The witch bowed her head, at least having the restraint not to count out the money then and there. "The fewer candles stay lit, the more dangerous it is for you. Leave when three have gone out, run if you see four out."

Eleanor's tail bristled at the suggestion of running, but she took a deep breath and tried to maintain her composure. "Thank you. You will be here to guide me out of the woods?"

"Yes," the witch answered simply, taking her 'daughter' by the wrist and walking back to where they had Eleanor wait. The lioness stepped towards the lights.

Above a small stone altar that was ringed by a quintet of tallow candles, something waited for the lioness. It looked like a small cloud of smoke, but one that didn't move at the whims of the wind. Inside the cloud were small sparks, like the sky over the mountains during a distant thunderstorm. Eleanor wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it was not this.

"Are you the one that was summoned for me?"

Yes.

It wasn't something she heard, not even felt. It was as though someone else was inside her head, speaking her thoughts, giving her the affirmation she sought. This time, the bristling seemed to run halfway up her back. She dug her fingers into the outside of her thighs to steel her nerves.

"Good, then as queen of this land I bid you welcome," she fell back on the speech she had been preparing all day, rehearsing the entire ride out to the village. "And I will grant you safe passage back to your realm once our business has concluded."

_How very gracious, Your Majesty._The voice that was in her mind but was not her own said in a biting, dismissive tone. She had used that tone before, she had rarely had it used on her upon reacihng adulthood. Coming from inside, it felt somehow more bitter.

What business have we to discuss?

Queen Eleanor took a deep breath, trying to remember the words that came next. She wondered if this thing could read her thoughts, could see the words she wanted to say next. Could it know what she feared? Glancing down, she saw that one of the candles had already blown out.

"You have been summoned for a purpose. I must bear the king a male heir, and I..." she was about to say that she 'feared' the king's wrath, but remembered what words to avoid using in this thing's presence. "I require this next pregnancy to be the one to make that happen. Is this something that you are able to grant?"

There was laughter in her head, cold, bitter mirthless hissing.

"What do you find funny?"

I know more than you do, Your Majesty, and find that funny. But yes, I have been summoned for that purpose, and yes, I can grant that desire.

"Excellent, though I have some specific demands. If any of these are beyond your power, tell me now."

Eleanor's courage returned to her slowly. This was promising, it was getting closer now. She could see hope at last even if she had to delve into the worst places for it.

"First, I want the boy to look like the king. If anyone were to be gossiping the court about the child's parentage, I want those rumors to be quelled the moment anyone looks at the prince."

That can be arranged easily. Anything else?

"Yes, several more things. Next, the boy must ascend to the throne as a King in his own right. None of this Regency nonsense. He must govern until he himself chooses an heir."

There was a brief, merciful silence in her skull as she waited for a response. Very well. What else?

There were no titles offered, no biting tone. Eleanor glanced down to see that a second candle was flickering and about to die. She took a final, deep breath. Rushing to the end increased the odds of her making a mistake, and mistakes her could have dire consequences.

"Yes, lastly, since I am doing this to spare my own life, I want to live to see my son ascend the throne and become King. It would be a sorry thing for me to die in childbirth."

There was a sharp hiss, this time outside of Eleanor's mind. It was as if it, whatever this thing was, had found something distasteful.

That does not pertain to the child, that is a completely different matter, Your Majesty. The voice was back inside her mind.

"Nevertheless, that is my demand."

Additional services, additional costs. The prince's existence and health are the price for my freedom. Your life and protection require something more.

"I will not barter like some merchant! You have my demands."

Very well, no bartering. Know then, Your Majesty, that this will not be the last child you bear.

"Is that all?" Eleanor's fingers tightened on her skin, but she was determined to have the last word.

Within a week he will come to your chambers. Do not refuse him, and what you ask for shall be yours.

There was a bright flash, like a particularly potent lightning strike in the distant storm that made up the thing's body. Eleanor watched as the second candle went out in a strong gust, the third barely hanging on.

"You are dismissed."

The edges of the entity started to fade into the night. It was only when a mote of light was consumed that she could tell that the thing was shrinking at all. For what seemed like minutes, the entity faded slowly until the last distant light winked out. Its disappearance came with a sudden release in pressure that she hadn't even noticed when it arrived. Her strength and courage left her, her legs failed her, and she tumbled to the ground.

She must have cried out, for something had brought the witch and her 'daughter' running. The pair of them bombarded her with questions, asking about her health and what had happened. Eleanor didn't speak, didn't answer them at all, instead asking herself questions internally to see if that sinister voice returned. After several minutes, she shook her head.

"Get me back to my horse," the lioness whispered. "I have to return to my home. And you have a hut to pack up."

The two women helped the lioness back to her horse. Eleanor did not bother to memorize the route, either coming or going, her mind was aflame. She wanted to be far from this place, back in the castle, next to a raging hearth with a glass of strong wine. She didn't even realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks until the vixen raised a finger to wipe them away.

The royal bit back the urge to swat the paw away, just nodding gently to the gesture. The trio arrived at the queen's horse. Not her usual mount, that would have been too obvious, but one of the stable worker's own personal stead - a reliable creature but not too grand. The sow and the vixen helped her mount the saddle.

"Fly from this place," the queen said softly. It wasn't an order, or even a threat. It cracked with desperation and fear. She wasn't a monarch ordering a subject in that sentence, she was someone who had come to know precisely how dangerous the surroundings were.

"You as well, Lady," the witch said. "And may God carry you home safely."

Eleanor merely nodded her head, jamming her booted heels into the side of the horse and sending it racing down the road, back towards home, and comfort.