The two were starting to get on Sheo's nerves. They made dove eyes at each other one minute, and the next they were trying to kill each other through glaring. If looks could kill, they'd both be dead.

The boy tightened the girth as much as he could before patting the horse and buckling the saddle on. He shoved his left foot in the stirrup and swung himself up.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride?" Erik asked the princess doubtfully.

"Yes," the girl replied confidently. She had a small bag on her back and a pigeon in her arms. Although curious, Sheo didn't ask. All royalty was weird.

"Shall we go, my lord?" Sheo called.

"Yes, let's continue," Erik decided. He clucked his tongue and the horses began their slow amble. Sheo knew the prince wanted to move to a trot, but that would be too fast for the princess. Erik mumbled under his breath with frustration.

A few hours later, around mid afternoon, they still were going.  Annabelle hadn't complained in the slightest, instead she seemed rather animated, talking about nothing as they rode on.

"Should we stop for lunch, my lord?" Sheo questioned.  Erik glanced at the princess.

"No, let's continue," he decided. Sheo groaned inwardly. Of course the prince would feel offended by Annabelle's clear rejection, and now he had to teach her a lesson. They'd be riding until tomorrow at this rate.

"Why not stop? This place seems a wonderful spot to have a picnic," Annabelle pointed out.

"Are you tired?" Erik asked smugly.

"No, but aren't you? Both of you keep swaying in your saddles and closing your eyes like you're about to fall asleep."

"I'm not," Erik retorted.

"My lord, I myself am getting tired. Please, this is a fantastic place to rest for a few moments," Sheo pleaded. Erik glared at Sheo until his gaze softened.

"Of course, let's spend the rest of the hour here."

While Sheo unloaded the horses, the prince and princess seated themselves in the soft grass. Annabelle released the bird, and the pigeon hummed quietly before fluttering up into the trees above.  Sheo passed around their small provisions and even tossed a few crumbs on the ground for the bird.

"Sp, Princess, do you honestly know how to fight?" Erik goaded. Sheo shook his head with a sigh.

"I know for certain I'm better then you," Annabelle replied with a hint of a smile.

"Ha! Never. I'm the Crown Prince of the Sixth Kingdom. I was named the best jouster in all the realms, and winner of the last three national tournaments. I've been sword fighting since I was a child."

"Interesting. I'm the youngest in my family; I've got an older sister. She's destined to be the Queen, but me? Nothing. While my sister has been tormented with lessons and learning from our mother, my father put a sword in my hand when I was three years old.  He trained me personally, and when I beat him in a practice duel, he only smiled and hired better instructors. Even heard of Sir Carnle? Lord Farthington? Knight Grayham? I was their apprentice until I turned nine."

"What happened?" Sheo asked, intrigued while Erik sputtered and gaped at the names of such legends. Annabelle sighed.

"My mother got a hold of me. Said I needed to grow up. I wasn't going to be my father's special tomboy anymore. I refused to learn from her and she dismissed my teachers, my masters, and took away my sword. I threw a fit, I suppose I must mention, and with that she deemed me too unruly and wild. She locked me in a tower until I was rescued."

"And you were rescued?" Sheo questioned.

"No. Plenty of people tried, of course, but I fought them off with makeshift weapons until one man was foolish enough to leave behind his daggers. I trained myself in that art, and then Ruther brought me the message about the dragon. So I left my tower and decided to search for a sword and ultimately the dragon."