I spin on my heels, staring up at the kaleidoscopic scenes playing out in the glass above—a wild hunt, boars pinned with spears, chaotic battles, and depraved feasts. Beyond the light, five dark alcoves leading to who-knows-where line the edges of the room.
“Hello?” I say, still looking up and twirling around. And around and around. I can’t seem to stop.
From one of the archways comes a chiming voice. “Welcome, Lara. We meet again,” it says.
Those words halt my spinning.
“I heard you had arrived days ago, and I’ve been waiting patiently to see you.”
“Sorry? I don’t think we’ve met before…” My voice trails off as a tall shape materializes out of the shadows, white and shining and as beautiful and sterile as unpainted porcelain.
It’s the bachelorette—Ether. The one who hid in the alleyway, pretending to be injured. The one who sent me through the portal into Faery.
Dread settles in my stomach at the same time as a spark of hope ignites in my chest.
If Ether is the mage who dumped me here, then surely, she can return me home.
Rushing toward her, I roll my ankle and tumble to my knees, no doubt confirming my bungling human frailty.
She laughs and glides to land in front of me. “There’s no need for a dramatic curtsy. We are old friends.” She lifts her hand, and I’m slowly raised into the air and placed gently on my feet.
I try to look cool about being levitated like I’m part of a magic show, but my trembling hands betray me.
“We’re not friends,” I say. “You threw me into this place and left me unconscious in the middle of nowhere. Why the hell did you do that?”
“Everything happens for a reason, does it not? Next time I see you, human Lara, I may tell you a story that will interest you. Then again, perhaps I won’t.”
“Ether, please. I’m begging you. My Aunt, my cousin, they must think I’m dead. Please take me back or at least let me get word to them somehow.”
Bottomless black pools stare into my eyes as her cool fingers tap my cheek. “Be calm, child. I have left them a note in your handwriting imbued with a little glamor. All who know you believe you are traveling. They think you’ve lost your mind. But they do not think you are dead.”
“What?” Tears leak from my eyes and drip off my chin, twin splatters of sorrow on the marble floor.
In a swirl of silver, Ether drops to her knees, a finger swiping the floor then skimming her bloodless lips. Her lids lower and she sighs. “Mmm. Sadness has always been my favorite flavor.”
I have nothing to say to that.
“You would like safe passage to the forest, yes?”
“How do you know?”
“You stand so eager before me with food spilling from your basket and determined to do good. Your entire life is engraved upon your mortal face. If I were to offer to send you home now, but told you a moss elf youngster would die tonight without the food you bring, who would you choose to save? The elf or yourself?”
Sweat beads my brow. My mouth falls open, and I pant harsh breaths, the stark walls closing in on me as my head falls back, and I look up.
What do I do?
Home.
Or the forest.
The elves.
Or me?
In a burst of crimson, purple, and green, a flock of tiny birds appears, eddying through the air. They glide and land on Ether, covering her white, cotton-candy hair and the flowing sleeves of her silver gown.
“Choose.” Her voice shakes the foundations beneath my feet.
I draw a long breath. “The elves. I want to go to the forest.”
A thin smile slides over her face, black eyes glittering. “Then I grant you safe passage, human, and safe return. Go as far as the red willow. Next time I see you, I may even tell you the story you long to hear. In the meantime, help our little moss children and come back to the prince as fast as you can.”
“I will,” I say as she guides me through a domed doorway and out into biting fresh air and a riot of green.
The Emerald forest.
Wait. Which prince?
When I turn to ask what she meant, there’s only a thin wooden door hidden behind winding tree roots and leaves of dark ivy. No silver mage. No Ether.
She must have been talking about my soon-to-happen execution. She meant, hurry human; help the elves and return as quickly as you can to die by Prince Ever’s hand.
A dappled path lies before me, pretty patterns beckoning me forward. Shouldering the weighty basket, I take a deep breath and begin to walk through the trees.
When I traveled with Ever, all was quiet and somber. This is the opposite. This place doesn’t fear me as Ithalah Forest did him. Birds chirp and sing. Bushes rustle with the movements of tiny creatures. Trees whisper secrets to each other. The air itself seems soft and welcoming. I feel safe.
After a time, the path winds downward, then a tunnel of trees opens into a small clearing with a brook tinkling beside a scarlet-colored willow. The bright red of its trunk, slender branches, and leaves is startling.
I place the basket on the tree’s rusty roots, sit on a damp log on the other side of the glade, and wait.
Five minutes pass, and nothing happens.
Another five and I begin to sing the first thing that springs to mind, an old Americana lullaby about cotton and babies who won’t go to sleep. I get lost in its rhythm, and the forest hushes and listens, too.
The song comes to an end, and as I start at the beginning of the first verse again, three elves creep from behind the willow toward the basket, two males and one female, all wretchedly skinny. I offer them a wave and keep singing.
Vegetables disappear one by one, passed along a chain toward elves hiding in the safety of green foliage.
Their bodies seemingly wrought from the forest itself, they’re no bigger than my forearm. They wear bark-colored tunics, have skin of soft moss, and black hair that tangles around pointed ears and sweet-curling horns.
They’re the most adorable creatures I’ve ever seen. Heart soaring, I stop singing and quietly admire them.
In the silence, the elves turn and look at me for the first time, their eyes bright beams of gold.
“Hello,” I say. “Take the basket. I’ll return tomorrow with more.”
The female bows and ducks behind the tree, returning a moment later with a squalling infant held tightly to her chest. I hold my breath as she edges forward. A group of elves joins the procession.
When she stops not far from my log, she holds the crying baby up for inspection. It mewls like a kitten.
I lean down and peer at tiny rose-petal lips. “A girl?” I ask.
Ten elves nod.
“Oh, she’s beautiful.”
The mother’s nodding becomes more vigorous as she waves her hand at my throat.
“The song. You’d like to hear it again?”
More nods, this time, accompanied by noises of encouragement.
I sing.
The elves smile.
The tiny baby quiets and listens.
Music never ceases to amaze me—how it calms. Brings joy. And even has the power to unite people.
When I finish the song, I rise and dust myself off. “As I said, I’ll try to come again tomorrow. At the same time if possible. It was lovely to meet you all, especially your baby. I hope the food helps.”
Giving me low bows and radiant smiles, they drag the basket away and disappear, merging with the browns and greens of the forest.