Unable to bear another ultracrepidarian lecture, the magician interrupted his king.
“Trust me on these matters: The spell stops at the new moon no matter what.”
He wondered whether his interruption or his news made the king’s face burn red. “You will keep her in that tower or be exiled!”
The magician obliged. He cast useless charms at the princess’s window, but the night of the new moon the king posted guards lest she use her own magic to escape.
In the dark, the magician raised his humble carpet to her window.
“Come with me, princess.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Exile.”
Author’s Note: The word of the day was ultracrepidarian—immediately this story came to mind.
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