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“Oh, no,” I said. “No, please stand up.”

The faerie rose gracefully to his feet, pausing only to smooth the wrinkles from his trousers. “As Your Highness desires.”

I gazed at him, feeling oddly tongue-tied. Wendell’s grandmother had been of the oíche sidhe, and he had taken their form briefly, when he and Aud had rescued me from the Hidden king’s court. He had looked a great deal like this creature—nearly identical, in fact, and I guessed that the vagueness of these faeries’ appearance also applied to the degree of difference between them. It was unsettling.

“I would like to ask a favour,” I said. “Somewhat unusual, perhaps, given your occupation.”

I half expected the creature to make some wry remark, as Wendell would have done, but naturally he did not. “As Your Highness desires,” he said again.

“You see,” I began, not knowing how to phrase my request in a politic manner. In the end, I simply allowed myself to be blunt. “I am in need of spies. Information. Mortals often overlook their housekeepers, who come to learn a great many of their secrets. I doubt the Folk are any different.”

“Worse,” the faerie said quickly. I had the sense that he was pleased by the direction the conversation had taken, and even eager to speak on the subject. But this was merely a guess; discerning any emotion in the creature’s subdued expression was difficult.

“Then you have served both mortals and Folk?” I said.

“I have served,” he agreed in his sparse manner.

I nodded. Here was a creature with as little use for small talk as I. “Do you know of anyone who might wish harm to either Wendell—the king, I mean—or myself?”

“Yes,” the creature said. And then he began to provide names and specifics.

When he came to the end of the list I found myself standing very still and staring at him. I shook myself and said, “I—thank you. That was—” More illuminating than I guessed it would be, I thought. “Thorough.”

“Your Highness.” The faerie bowed.

I pressed my lips together, uncertain. “You have placed yourself in danger by helping me. Do you desire compensation? I mean—of course I shall compensate you. Only tell me—”

“I have helped His Highness,” the creature replied. “I am compensated.”

The faerie had spoken softly and flatly throughout our exchange, but this remark seemed to have real emotion behind it.

“I see.” I considered him for a moment as I ran through what I knew of the oíche sidhe, which was a great deal, or at least more than most dryadologists, for I had made them a priority in my studies since I’d learned of Wendell’s lineage. “And I suppose it was you who ensured his rooms were ready upon his arrival. Quite speedy work you made of it, for you could not have known he would prefer his old wing.”

“He is one of ours,” the creature said.

I gave a slight nod, and the faerie seemed to take this as a dismissal and bowed himself out.

—

Wendell was not difficult to locate. I simply followed the swirls and eddies of servants and courtiers flitting through the galleries on the castle’s main level. Most of the nobility seemed to be availing themselves of the gardens, and of the sunny portico that gave onto them, and thus the servants hastened between there and the kitchens, bearing cups and trays piled with delicacies. I stopped one and took a cup of coffee and a biscuit for myself. It looked plain but tasted of sugared almonds and impossibly tart strawberries.

I found him standing alone near the centre of the gardens upon a hill festooned with lilies and foxgloves. At the summit was a bench shaded by several neat rows of cherry trees and—to my dismay—an attentive oak. It was smaller than the wild-growing ones I’d seen in the forest, but it glowered and gawked at me all the same.

Wendell rested his hand on one of the cherry trees in an absent sort of way, gazing over the landscape. The tree began to flower, buds bursting forth in a riot of purples and blues, and the leaves grew so green they resembled crushed emeralds. It matched Wendell’s expression, somehow, as he swept his gaze over the view, a contentment that seemed to radiate from him, cheering all in his vicinity. Two servants carrying what looked like a newly minted silver mirror stepped more lightly, their faces brightening, and a fat leprechaun sprawled against a nearby boxwood chuckled in his sleep.

Wendell turned and saw me standing there, and if anything, the happiness in his eyes only grew. “Em!” he exclaimed, and I am certain he would have seized me and spun me around again, if not for the cup in my hand. “Well? Did you enjoy yourself? By that I mean, did the cottage provide the correct ambience for devouring stacks of old tomes and scribbling away in journals?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said. “Though you might have told me about the guests.”

“To tell the truth, I was a little nervous about your reaction. I felt you would enjoy seeing Lilja and Margret again, but last night I wondered if you wouldn’t have preferred solitude more.”

“You needn’t look like that,” I said, laughing a little at the worry that had stolen over his face. “I was indeed happy to see them. And I am glad you took the initiative of offering them a holiday.”

He smiled. “Well, how could I not, the poor dears? What a misery winter is in that accursed place! I don’t know how anyone stands it.”

I doubted he knew how anyone stood any clime different from his native realm, but I was not about to waste my breath on this. We had far more important things to discuss.

“We must go to see this curse your stepmother has inflicted upon the forest,” I said. “It is far more important than any other problem we face—I am embarrassed I did not recognize it immediately. I know the stories of deposed faerie monarchs quite well. Working out what she has done must be our sole priority.”