As I hobbled along on my injured leg, the landscape transitioned from swamp to meadow. Everything was so…alive.A full spectrum of color all around me. The trees, wearing vibrant green leaves. The flowers, blooming in deep jewel tones. And the sky, shunning the clouds, a lovely blue shade. The Spring Court’s natural beauty was truly stunning. It may have just tried to kill me, but I had to admit, it did have its charms.
The shadow of a bird in flight crossed my path. I looked up to find my raven friend overhead and smiled, relieved he was alright. I owed him my life. Without his assistance, Froggie might have turned me into an early lunch. The grim reality of how close I had come to death caused my chest to temporarily constrict as I contemplated my survival. If I wanted the trend to hold, it was imperative to find a safe place to rest before darkness fell.
I came to a stretch of meadow overrun by wildflowers. A pink daisy lifted right off the ground in front of me, hovering in the air. Already on edge, I stopped dead in my tracks. I stared at the flower suspiciously until I realized what I was looking at—a small pixie, its hair a perfect replica of a daisy’s petals.
The flower mimicry was so convincing, even its wings resembled delicate leaves. Now that she was flying, I could see her feminine face, initially obscured by the beautiful bloom atop her head. The pixie took off for the tree line. When she returned, she approached me, a handful of purple berries cupped between her palms.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything since morning. And I washungryafter escaping the swamp. Gratefully, I accepted the gift. I raised a berry to my lips, about to swallow it, but paused, noticing an odd waver in its purple coloration as I held it closer to the light. Narrowing my eyes, I examinedthe berry again, this time with a critical eye. At second glance, I could tell the berries were only glamoured to be purple. In truth, they were a bright, shiny red. The color of blood.
I glared at the pixie and tossed the berries to the ground. “These are poisonous!”
She clapped her small hands together, delighted, doubling over with laughter, thoroughly amused I saw through the illusion. Shaking my head, I continued walking, muttering under my breath about sadistic pixies. Clearly, this meadow was not the sanctuary I sought. “This is why the Fae courts hardly ever get visitors from the five kingdoms,” I groused. “Someone without Fae Sight could have been killed by the trick you just pulled!”
Ignoring my rebuke, the pixie dove in and out of the flowers, beckoning to her friends. Soon, an entire parade trailed along in my wake. They swirled and danced through the air like the meadow was their personal stage. I yanked my hair back in place as they tugged at my braid. In a girlish, high-pitched voice, the leader of the parade loudly trilled, “Presenting the Prince of the Sky and the Lady of Midnight.”
I snorted, wagging my head. I did not possess a court of my own; I was no lady. And the raven was certainly not a prince. That didn’t stop the rest of the pixies from joining in on the mocking chorus. “Who are you even talking to?” I asked, the pitch of my voice rising.
A tall figure sauntered out of the woods.
For a moment, I thought a tree had come to life. The Fae certainly bore a large enough resemblance to one, his skin more bark than flesh. Twin horn-like protrusions made of wood sprouted from his head, which was itself covered in an array of assorted greenery and leaves. Three emerald eyes, evenly spaced across the broad width of his face, slowly blinked in my direction.
He didn’t watch me for long, quickly turning his attention back to his chosen task.
His movements were slow, methodical, as he watered the plants around him from a large wooden watering can. He murmured softly in a language that I didn’t understand, his words having a positive effect on the surrounding vegetation. Plants that were wilting perked back up; flowers with closed petals began to bloom. He knelt down to speak to a small sapling, and it grew a few inches taller. No plant was beneath his notice—he stopped to check on each and every one of them.
The pixies fluttered around him as he worked. He appeared unbothered by their presence, endlessly patient with their antics. Even as they tugged at his leaves and landed on his horns, he did not swat at them, but gently set them aside using his gnarled wooden hands.
He set his watering can down on the ground, inspecting a patch of wildflowers. Mischievous to their core, the pixies were quick to take advantage. Unifying their efforts, they managed to lift the watering can off the ground, proceeding to hide it in a nearby bush. I could hear their maniacal giggles from where I stood.
The Fae twirled around slowly, stroking the leaves of his long beard. He scratched the very top of his head.
Something about his gentle movements and obvious reverence for life put me at ease. Giving the pixies my best scowl, I walked over and retrieved the Fae’s watering can from the bush, wincing as my thumb pricked one of its thorny vines. The pleasant scent of grass washed over me as I approached him. “Excuse me, I believe you may have misplaced your watering can.”
“Thank you…Mistress of Midnight,” he replied, his tone soft and measured.
I blinked. “You know who I am?”
“Your boots…carry the soil…of your island. Good soil. Good for plants. Rich with magic.”
Reaching into the pack at his side, he withdrew a handful of roots and berries, offering them to me. I accepted his gift—my intuition telling me it was in much better faith than my previous offer. Careful not to crush any plant life, I sat down on the grass and began to eat, watching the Fae work with fascination.
“Would you like…to hear a poem?” he asked.
I nodded, eager to hear whatever wisdom he was willing to impart.
“This one…may be appropriate…it’s about you…after all.” His voice a slow drone, he began to recite the poem, enunciating each word in the same careful fashion with which he spoke. I listened intently, committing the first verse to memory, the opportunity to learn more about my position an unintended but very welcome benefit of having adventured away from the island.
If you seek a helping hand
Then find a stone of moonlight
Take it to the maiden’s land
And make a deal at midnight
The words washed soothingly over me. Sitting among the flowers, with their sweet scent overwhelming my senses, I could feel some of the tension finally leaving my body. No longer on high alert, I relaxed into the grassy meadow.
To me, it was more than a poem. It was proof. Proof the Midnight Sovereign wasn’t simply meant to collect and preserve the realm’s history. What was the point of learning about the past if you didn’tdoanything with that knowledge? Kaylin told me that was our role, but her words had lacked conviction. She spent the first ten years of her own apprenticeship travelingwith Juniper, searching Olayra for answers, before her mentor’s sudden death. Before she closed herself off from travel and her responsibility to the island. But there was a period when she must also have believed in a greater purpose.
