Though I knew Mom hadn't wanted me to continue reading Julia's book, I kept it. Even if they were nothing but the delusional writings of a little girl the stories were interesting. Her whole world of the fae was interesting to me. I had always been a fantasy fan, and this was no exception. Even if it wasn't exactly in the form of a book or movie, the story was one I wanted to figure out. Each entry in the book was interesting in its own way, fitting together like puzzle pieces. I didn't have enough yet to see what picture the puzzle created, but the pieces were there.

I half studied the vibrantly colored illustrations and half admired the garden I sat in, a more comfortable place to read than the grim and tomb-quiet house. It was huge—a fenced and gated wonderland. Everything in it was larger than life; the trees were taller than any I'd ever seen, the flowers blossoming like they were on steroids. I was surrounded by a rainbow of gorgeous blooms, roses and tulips and lilies in every color imaginable. Many were flowers I had never seen before. The trees stretched overhead, leaving dappled sunlight and shadow across everything beneath them. Even the air was like something out of a dream, sweet with the fragrances of flowers and fruit, cool in the shade and warm in the sun. The bench I had found was cool, smooth stone, carved in a pattern of vines and leaves around the legs and edges of the seat. I could see why Julia had liked the garden. I would have spent all my childhood here, too, if I could have.

It was whispering that caught my attention. At first I thought it was just rustling leaves, but it soon became clear that they were in fact voices. Murmuring voices hidden among the plants—I couldn't make out their words.

The leaves of a bush beside me waved wildly as if something had moved through them and a giggle rang through the air. My heart jumped.

"Hello?" I called, looking around it. The silence was deafening. "Who's there?" I knew the only other people on the property were Mrs. Thurston, Julia, and my parents, and none of them seemed likely to be sneaking around the garden hoping to scare me. My heart thudded at the thought of who might be here and why. More hurried, hushed voices rose like a soft flurry and then several people laughed softly. They sounded almost like children. I stood and pushed aside the branches to find nothing. Movement flickered in the corner of my eye and I whirled to face it. Something had just darted around a tree, out of sight. I ran after it, sneakers pounding against the winding stone path.

The voices were louder now, excited, though I still couldn't decipher what they were saying. They spoke quickly, a blur of words that I quickly realized weren't English. A feminine voice called something from above and then laughed a laugh that sounded like bells. I looked up into the tree she had to be in and saw nothing.

"Who are you?" I called, still craning my neck to look into the branches. There was another peal of laughter and a smaller branch shook as if something heavy had jumped on it. I grabbed the lowest branch, hoisting myself up. "Hey!" Something shot out of the tree, only a glimpse of quick movement showing between the leaves and branches. I jumped down to the ground, hoping to get a better look—no such luck. It was gone.

The voices seemed to have stopped and the garden seemed eerie without them. I spun in circles, looking for some sign of something, anything to prove I wasn't crazy. I had seen something fly out of a tree—something too big and humanoid to be a bird. Something that talked.

Fairies weren't real. Fairies were. Not. Real.

Fairies. Faeries. Fae.

The fae know about her.

He'd like to know your name. He'll call you Cassiesa.

He'll teach you the fae tongue if you ask.

Julia was getting to me. The stories were getting to me. Maybe my parents had the right idea. I shook my head to clear it, wandering down the path. I had lost track of the turns I'd made and the garden was big enough that it wouldn't be impossible to get lost. I thought I knew the way back to the gate, but I'd left the storybook at the bench I'd found and had to retrieve it. Of course, that was easier said than done. I didn't see another soul as I wound my way back to the bench or hear a thing besides my own footsteps and the occasional calls of birds and insects. It must have been a full ten minutes before I found my way back.

The book sat neatly where I had left it, the note sticking out of the top from where I had used it as a bookmark. And draped across the cover was a single long-stemmed iris.

I stopped dead a few feet away, just staring. I hadn't put it there—I hadn't even seen any irises in the garden. Its petals were sunset-orange, its stem stiff and healthy; it was freshly cut.

Hands trembling, I grabbed both and bolted for the garden gate.

The fae checked over his shoulder once more as he reached the old tree. The ancient oak was older than any fae could remember, older than any tree should be. Like the garden, it was kept vibrant and alive by the magic his kind brought with their very presence, but some of its leaves were curling in at the edges, turning brown. Several had fallen to the ground. The tree was unhealthy, which had never happened before. He looked up, ran a light hand along a low-hanging branch, and then ducked into the hollow shielded by undergrowth.

It was the perfect place to hide from the humans. No human noticed a little hollow at the base of a tree indistinguishable from all the others in a wood. It wasn't big enough for most full-grown humans anyway—even he had to duck to stand in it—and humans never looked closely enough to see anything smaller than them.

He braced himself against the edge inside for a moment, peeling his wings out from his back. They fit perfectly on either side of his spine but it was far more comfortable to stretch them out. They shivered in the wind that came through the opening, paper-thin and delicate as those of a butterfly, but strong. He lifted himself up on his toes, hanging over the dark opening, and let the wind push him over.

His wings were yanked up sharply, painfully, in the first instant and the wind rushing upwards whipped his hair and clothing back. He grinned at the exhilaration of falling, his shout ripped away as it left his throat. When the lights below grew close enough, he pushed his wings down hard to slow his descent. He landed silently, adrenaline still singing in his veins. Nothing beat the fall.

"Identification," the closest guard droned out in the ancient tongue. He was a towering, stocky man who didn't seem at all appreciative of the younger fae's good mood, and looked bored by his assigned position for the day. He received a slanted, violet-eyed look in response.

"Is this really necessary?" the fae asked, holding out his left arm. "Surely you don't need to trace my identity." He stifled a wince as the guard's dagger dug into the tender skin on the underside of his wrist. Hardly a pinprick, just enough to draw a crimson droplet of blood, but nonetheless unpleasant, especially if this was going to be a new daily occurrence.

"Titania requests that all who leave and enter be recorded and identified, for safety purposes."

"Taerem Yarik," a second, younger guard read off from the day's record, nodding to the first. "Confirmed?"

"Confirmed." The first guard released his wrist and Tae yanked it back with a scowl, wiping a second bead of blood away. He'd been wary when he'd first heard of the new line of security the queen had ordered, but he hadn't quite realized how much he'd hate it. One touch to another fae's blood would give all the information one would ever need to know, and Tae didn't like the thought of every guard in Arcatraissa having that kind of access. He didn't have anything in particular to hide, but it still felt like an intrusion. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Tybal," the guard told him as he passed.

"I'll take it up with Titania."

The caves were full; it was mid-day, which meant that most fae were busily carrying things to or from market or running their daily errands. Tae pulled the hood of his cloak up and kept his head down, weaving his way through the bustling crowds. It was a long walk to the market, his destination, but it was too crowded to fly.

As much as he loved venturing out of the caves it was always nice to return after a long while away. Green faery light on polished stone walls was a welcome sight after the bright, open spaces of the human garden. By the time he reached the market his mood had brightened again and he smiled at the fae he passed, even stopped at a few of the merchants' booths to look over their wares. One offered a free sampling of the grilled fish he was selling and as Tae was engrossed in praising the fae on his cooking a voice rang across the market and made his blood turn to ice.

"Taerem," Titania Iva called, hands on her hips. Her wings, larger than Tae's despite her smaller frame, didn't tremble with anger, but Tae knew that was only thanks to where she stood. The crowd parted without hesitation, scurrying as far from them as possible while still being able to watch the confrontation.

"Good afternoon," Tae greeted her cheerily, his lanky form moving like liquid away from the fisherman's booth.

"Where in the gods' names have you been?"

Tae hesitated only a moment, choosing his words. "As Tybal of Arcatraissa, I decided that it was my duty to investigate the humans who have recently began living nearby. I've decided that they don't pose a threat to us, you'll be happy to hear."

"That is not your decision to make," she said, still cool and calm as only a queen could be, striding towards him. "I am Titania, not you, and you will follow my orders without exception. Your authority is limited, as difficult as that may be for you to grasp."

"And yet I am the one preparing to take the throne, while you are the one preparing to leave it," Tae replied evenly, refusing to back down. The crowd murmured; no fae, even their prince, dared challenge Titania so publicly.

Her expression was stony. "We'll continue this inside, Taerem."

A public argument wouldn't help either of their reputations; he knew that. And the public's current faith in their queen, and soon-to-be king, was already rocky at best. So Tae mutely made his way across the market, chin raised and gaze locked straight ahead. Iva followed, just as silent. Fae moved aside as they approached and Tae could already see them planning who they would tell this story to first and how they would tell it. What elements would be embellished, and how far would the rumors spread this time?

As soon as the doors to the palace closed behind them, Iva whirled and slammed her son against the nearest wall. Tae clenched his jaw as the back of his head cracked against stone. "How dare you disrespect me that way," she snarled. "Until you are crowned Titani you have no power in this court."

"I will fail as Titani if you keep me from showing my people I'm capable of holding the position."

"They have no need to see a display of your competence, Taerem."

"Because they should trust your judgement as any loyal, mindless followers would?"

Her eyes, the same fierce shade of violet as his, narrowed. "And what does that mean?"

He knew that look. He knew that it meant to stop before he was punished a thousand times worse than he already would be. And though his blood still boiled and told him to keep pushing until she snapped, he forced himself to relax against the wall and avoid her gaze.

"Nothing, Mother." Her grip loosened and he stepped away, rubbing carefully at the back of his neck.

"You'll not leave the palace or the courtyard until I say otherwise."

He began to argue, but her look silenced him. "Yes, Mother."

"And you'll watch over your sister when she visits the market."

"Yes, Mother."

"Now go on." Tae nodded and brushed past her, head bowed. Before he got more than three steps past Iva grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "What happened?" she demanded, turning it over to reveal the cut he'd received from the guard.

Tae couldn't help a bitter smile. "Your guards are very thorough."