Page 59

And to my utter surprise, she does, with a reluctant gulp.

He smiles, pleased, and plops down on the bedroll, finishing the rest of his fruit in a few bites. “Wow, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since…” He trails off, brow creasing.

The door whips open, and all five of the princes rush in. Caspian stops short and, rather than observing our new winged friend, looks at his sister. “Wrenley, you’re…glowing.”

“What?” She touches one of her braids; it shines a dark gold. “What did you do to me?”

“That was a powerful glimmerling.” The fae tilts his head up to the sky. “It’ll probably last you till dawn. Great for flying at night.” He trails off, fluttering his wings and gently touching the tip.

Keldarion stomps forward. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Why were you trapped in a tree? Why do you have wings? Who are you?”

“Kel.” I grab my husband’s arm. “Don’t scare him.”

“Well, it’s clear you two weren’t getting anywhere,” Kel hisses back. “Wrenley let him feed her strange food from the Above.”

“I wouldn’t really say let.” Wrenley ruffles her glowing hair as if to get it to disappear.

“And after I plated those rations.” Dayton sighs.

The young-looking man, to his credit, doesn’t seem too intimidated by Kel. He waltzes over to the platter of rations, grabs it, then climbs into the tree, sitting cross-legged with the food in his lap.

“I’ll answer your questions, tall snow-haired man,” the fae says. He has a lively pattern of speech. His words come fast, with a kind of gleam to them, like he’s on the edge of laughing.

Keldarion gives me a look that says he was right.

“Why do I have wings?” the fae continues. “I’m more curious about where yours are. Removing them means death, yet you all seem very alive. I don’t understand. As for your question about why I was in that tree, well, I happen to like trees. I often fall asleep in them. They make the best spot for naps. And for who I am⁠—”

He pauses, brow furrowing.

“I don’t remember my name. How odd.” He looks at us. “What are your names?”

We introduce ourselves as he eats the rations, grimacing as he gnaws on the bread. I suppose it is getting a little stale.

“My turn,” the fae says. “Why did you take me to this broken building?”

“Can you tell me what you call this place?” I ask.

He shakes his head as if I’m being silly. “Airaleth?”

“Do you know of a forge in Airaleth?” Ezryn steps forward.

“Yeah, Airaleth has many forges,” the fae says. “But the greatest is the Forge of Onaulion. It’s only a short fly from the Palace of Stars.”

Ezryn breathes a sigh of relief. The Palace of Stars—I wonder if that’s where we are.

“The wings, speaking the old language, using the true name,” Wrenley whispers next to me. “He’s one of the first fae. He lived here before the Above fell.”

My heart sinks. She’s right. “I don’t know what happened,” I say to him, “but I think you’ve been asleep for a very long time. We’ve got a lot to explain.”

“Oh,” he says, looking up through the leaves, wings falling behind him.

Farron steps a little closer, giving him a sympathetic shrug. “Don’t worry. We’ll tell you everything. But it might be easier to show you.”

“But first, we need something to call you,” I say. “Any idea?”

The man’s boyish face turns into a frown. “I wish I could remember my name.”

I look at the group.