“But of course, Your Highness,” the witch said. “I plan to use this tower for my home. It is no longer in your use, is that right?”
“That’s true, but the borderlands are dangerous, and my army is small in number.” He waved a hand at the group behind him. They were a motley crew, large and small, green-skinned or not, pockmarked or masked for reasons the witch decided not to contemplate.
“I cannot guarantee your protection,” he added.
“And I do not ask for it. All I ask for is quiet to practice my craft.”
“And if a troll happens by while you’re practicing your craft?” Now, those dark eyes were lit with humor.
“Oh, Your Highness, I have lived long enough to know exactly what to do with a troll if one happens by.”
The prince laughed. “I believe you do, Mistress Witch. But be warned, thi
