Russel continued to shave even though he couldn't see his face any longer. Once he was home, he'd have servants to do it for him, but along the way-He cursed loudly and dropped the knife in a clatter when he cut himself for the third time. Curse the girl. What had she done to all his mirrors? And ones that weren't his. This was an ordinary Inn, one he had never visited before. And yet, his mirror reflected the Princess, resplendent in silks and cavorting with a queen that could only be Helen. Every now and then the witch came into view as well.
They were definitely back in the fortress. If only he could hear them, he might have some idea where they were and how to find them again.
Wiping the last of the creamy lather from his face, he turned his back on the image. He would find her. Find her and take her. She wouldn't escape him again. Donning his coat, he went in search of a mount to carry him home.
