Free The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher

was—ah—kidnapped. I’ve been searching for him, but I was—er—delayed. For a few months.   But now I’m looking again.”
    “Your friend?” said Gran Aischa. “Or your true love?”
    “Both,” said Gerta firmly.  
    “Better!” Gran Aischa grinned, revealing a surprisingly good set of teeth for her age. “Ah, let me see, how should the story go…You’re a princess, of course.”
    “I am?”  
    “Naturally.” Gran Aischa swatted her on the knee. “You can hardly do anything worthwhile in a story unless you’re a princess, you know.”
    “That doesn’t seem very fair,” said Gerta, taking a sip of the cider. Her mouth crooked up at the corners despite herself.  
    “It isn’t,” said the storyteller. “But you’re young. Old women can be wise, but young women have to be princesses.”  
    “I’m a bit short for a princess. And a bit…err…round….”
    Gran Aischa waved away this objection. “Doesn’t matter. Once you’ve left town, all they’ll remember is what I tell them. You’ll be devastatingly beautiful within a week. They were mostly looking at the raven, anyway.”
    Gerta laughed.  
      “Ye-e-e-s….yes, I see it now. You’re a very clever princess. Your advisor, the raven, has told you all the wisdom in the world.”
    Mousebones preened. “I like this story.”
    “That’s right, I’m talking about you, bird.” Gran Aischa took a sip of her own drink. Gerta suspected it was rather stronger than cider. “You’ve learned wisdom from the raven, and nowhere is there a prince worthy of you. Men are tongue-tied in your presence. They present themselves to you in your palace and they can’t remember a single word.”
    Gerta dragged her hand over her face. “All right,” she said. “Where’s this palace of mine, anyhow?”
    “Oh, very far away. A year and a day by horse.”  
    “How inconvenient for me.”
    “It’s a magnificent palace,” the storyteller assured her. “Each hall more extraordinary than the last. The walls are hung with rose-colored satin and the ceilings hung with chips of cut glass. You rule from a throne inlaid with diamonds and drink from a cup inlaid with pearls.”
    “Constantly,” said Gerta.  
    “But alas, it is lonely when you are unmarried, and none of the princes who come before you can speak a single word.”  
    Gerta put her chin on her hand and waited.  
    “You got tired of waiting around for a worthy husband to present himself,” continued Gran Aischa, “so you went out, with your trusted raven, to find the prince wise enough to speak to you without fear.” She brought her hands together. “And you are still looking, but one day, I’m sure, you’ll find him.”
    “I hope so!” said Gerta, more fervently than she intended to.
    “And he will be as handsome as the dawn and wear red and he will keep ravens of his own. And your beautiful bird will meet his mate as well, and the two of them will be kept as official court ravens and fed all the best bits from the kitchen.”
    (“Get the sausage recipe from the innkeeper, will you?” asked Mousebones. “I want the palace kitchens to make these sausages.”)
    “And you and your wise prince will talk long into the night, every night, and live to a ripe old age. And the children in this town will grow up telling the story of how they saw the Raven Princess, before she found her prince.”
    Gerta grinned ruefully. “It’s a better story than the truth,” she admitted. “Though I still don’t think anyone’s going to believe I’m beautiful. Or wise.”
    “People will believe anything if you add enough details they like,” said Gran Aischa. “It’s a good story. Thank you for bringing it to me.” She reached out with her mug and clinked it against Gerta’s.  
    “Although,” she added, taking a long slug of her drink, “I won’t swear that I won’t add to it, if it’s early in the evening. A comic case of mistaken identity, say, or three tasks, or a riddle