At the end of a street called Boreas Lane, they turned onto The Mainway, a wider cobblestone road lit with oil lamps on posts. Cassie paused in front of a three-story building. A wooden sign above the entrance said AURORA BOREALIS in dull gold letters. Through the small square windowpanes, Chris caught a glimpse of ordinary life in Pyxis.

The first floor of the inn included a tavern. The solemn glow of the fireplace and the torches didn't seem to subdue the mood. The crowd was diverse and lively. The sounds of laughter, song, strong opinion, and movement reached him as a hum of indistinguishable noise.

Establishments like this existed across the globe in the human world. The patrons, however, were a new sight to him entirely. It wasn't so much their fairy clothing—long, ruffled skirts or dresses for the women and some combination of cloaks, tunics, vests, belts, scabbards, and pointed felt hats for the men—as it was their wings that fascinated him. They varied from white to black and every shade of gray in between, and they also varied in size, shape, symmetry, and strength. Some fairies could barely hover off the ground, while others, such as the servers, could hold trays of refreshments and buzz across the room in the blink of an eye.

Other fairies remained on the ground, with their wings draped like shimmery fabric down their backs, and many others stayed grounded for a lack of wings.

Since Morgan and Ryan had, according to Joe, sprouted wings—something he would have to see to believe—Chris couldn't help but wonder if and when he too would find his wings.

Cassie peered in the inn's latticed window and then tugged on the handle of the front door. For some reason, though, she let it drop and led them to an alley on the left side of the building instead. In near darkness, they stepped over rubbish and a sleeping fairy before they reached a side door. Cassie opened it with a simple key, and they followed her inside.

They climbed a rickety spiral staircase to a hallway on the third floor. She led them past a series of portraits on the walls. The candlelight eerily accentuated the solemn faces in the old paintings, and the uneven floorboards announced their presence with creaks and groans.

Doors kept clicking open and clapping shut. Chris could feel multiple eyes watching their progression. Even the eyes in the portraits appeared to follow in their direction. He was more than ready to get out of the hall when Cassie unlocked a door on the right labeled 13 SOUTHWEST.

The room contained a bed, a fireplace with embers glowing, and a crooked desk stacked neatly with books and tied parchment. A hand-carved bureau stood between the entry door and another doorway that led to an unlit room.

While Joe gazed around, Chris squatted beside the bed, where two small figures lay amid soft blankets. He recognized the sound of his children's breathing but lowered the covers from Ryan's and Morgan's faces to make sure they were unharmed. They were dressed in fairy clothing and curled around each other, and their newly sprouted wings didn't seem to be interfering. They looked perfectly peaceful.

"I'll give you a few moments to settle in," Cassie whispered. "There is a washroom over there and clean clothes for you on the desk chair. I'll be in the room directly across the hall for a few minutes. Then, if you feel so inclined, we can get something to eat downstairs." From the bureau, she took some of her own clothes to change into and left the room.

"Can you believe this place? It feels like we might run into a fairy William Shakespeare." Joe proclaimed. "Though it's not exactly the luxury you would expect a princess to live in."

Chris had to agree. The inn had a common-people, old-world feel to it, and Cassie's room was neat and organized but small and unornamented except for one seascape on the wall. Although he had probably seen similar paintings a thousand times in his life without ever giving them a thought, this one caught his eye for some flaw in it. The setting sun appeared too vibrant, and the ocean underneath it seemed too stagnant. It was as if the painter had never felt the warmth of the sun or experienced the power and magnificence of the ocean.

He checked the bottom right corner of the painting. The last four letters of the flowery script all looked like lowercase e's, but he deciphered the name to be Labelle.

Chris turned his gaze from the signature and grabbed the clothes off the chair. They unfolded in his hands as he lifted them. With all of its strings and pleats, the white shirt seemed more appropriate for a female fairy, but at least it looked spacious enough. He couldn't say the same for the pants. He tried to swap the gray animal-hide trousers with the other pair on the chair, since Joe was shorter and slighter than he was, but they looked equally small. Chris shrugged, lit a candle with the lantern Cassie had set down, and headed to the washroom with the fairyland attire in his grip.

Inside, there was a primitive toilet and a basin full of icy water. He first washed the dirt and blood from his face and hands. The cold water jarred him initially but soon felt good on his cuts and bruises. He didn't need the chest-high mirror to confirm that his face was one swollen, amorphous mass. After the guards' beatings, he didn't even think he would recognize himself.

Joe was browsing through Cassie's pile of books when Chris came out of the washroom. He barely muffled his laugh. "Nice pants."

"Oh, yeah? Let's see how you look in them," Chris shot back as he tugged at the coarse fabric on the side of his neck. He then draped the heavy robe he no longer needed over the back of the desk chair.

Joe took the other set of clothes and strolled to the washroom. "Well, they can't be a bigger fashion don't than the Jesus robes."

Just as Joe disappeared, Cassie tapped on the door and came back into the room carrying a bottle of clear liquid and some gauzy white cloth. "I brought this for your wrist." She came over to him and reached for his hand.

Chris pulled his arm up and away. "It's fine."

"Don't be silly." She stood on her tiptoes and gently took his hand into hers. He didn't resist a second time.

She moistened one of the strips of cloth with the liquid in the bottle. "This is going to hurt."

Chris tried to hold still. It did sting, though, and he couldn't hold back a flinch.

"Sorry," she uttered with a grimace.

"Don't be. And since we're getting apologies out of the way, I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier."

She glanced up at him and assessed him for a voluminous moment. "Don't be." Her eyes quickly dropped and she tied the last bow of his bandage.

"And thanks . . . for everything."

"You are very welcome." She gave him a slight grin, there one instant, gone the next. "I would do it again in the flutter of a fairy's wing." She dabbed at all of his remaining wounds, those visible to her, including the cut on the side of his head. "There. All set," she said upon completion.

She flit toward the desk. Even without wings, there was a lightness, haste, and unease to her movement. She reminded him of an injured butterfly. When she set the bottle down, her shaky hands almost knocked it over. She reached for it with both hands to stabilize it.

"Can I ask you something?" Chris said while she was fumbling around on her desk, tidying things that didn't need tidying.

Cassie spun back around and gave him her full, wide-eyed attention and an encouraging nod.

"How did you know I wouldn't kill you? It would have been easy, like snapping a twig with my human-sized thumb."

"Because I didn't feel afraid." It was a strange answer, and judging by her behavior, he wasn't sure it was true. Her eyes lowered and narrowed, and she shuddered as if she regretted her answer. The entire process made her seem like a skittish child. Because of her size and layers of oversized clothing, she looked like an orphan. He may have even believed she was a child, but her eyes suggested otherwise. They were innocent but intelligent and somehow darkly seasoned.

She turned her back and fiddled with the objects on her desk again, but she shrugged in a way that suggested she knew he was watching her. He could tell that he was making her nervous, and why wouldn't she be? Even if she had forgiven him for threatening to kill her, he had an imposing presence and hated the very floorboards where he stood.

Chris looked to the washroom door, wondering why Joe was taking so long. Joe did have his uses. He knew how to puncture an oppressive silence and make it seem as if nothing was wrong in the first place.

When Joe finally strolled out, he took a spot by Chris's side. He made a ta-da gesture with his hands to model the new clothing. In a way the outfit worked for him, fashionable almost; he would blend right in. Chris, for his own part, felt like a jock in a ballerina costume.

"So you said there's food in this place?" Joe asked.

Cassie nodded. "Shall we?" she asked, and then headed toward the door.

Joe and Chris exchanged looks.

"You two go." Chris gazed at the bed. "I'm not comfortable leaving them alone."

"Carina was watching them before we arrived. If you want, I could get her or someone else I trust to stay with them," Cassie suggested.

Chris would have preferred to stay with his sleeping children in relative peace and quiet, but he also needed to know what was going on in this place called Pyxis. Sleep, regardless of his choice, was out of the question. "Would they stay right here?"

"That can be arranged, I think. I'll check." Cassie left the room and came back moments later with a blond, green-eyed fairy. "This is Carina. Her family owns this inn. She followed me to your cell against the wishes of her sister, Vela," Cassie added while tossing a scolding smile in her young friend's direction. "I hope Vela's not too upset with you . . . with us." Cassie looked back to Joe and Chris. "It was fortunate Carina did follow me. She flew in with the children while I was waiting for an opportunity to approach the two of you."

"It's so nice to finally meet you," Carina said, beaming. "And welcome. It's an honor to have you here."

Chris and Joe's glances crossed at the use of the word "honor," but they said nothing, thanked Carina for her assistance, and then followed Cassie downstairs. . . . 

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