Evelyn rapped a slender knuckle against the door to Siobhan's private chamber and waited, holding her breath, for permission to enter. When she received no response, she raised her hand to knock once more, a little harder this time. "Come in," the queen finally said, the strain in her voice evident even through the thick oak.

The handmaiden pushed the heavy door inward and gasped. "My queen!" Evelyn exclaimed, rushing to her mistress's side. She knelt at Siobhan's feet to peer into her downturned face. "What is the matter?"

Siobhan's eyes were closed, her fingers lightly cradling her forehead and making small circles at her temples. "My head feels as though it will split open with every breath I take," she answered weakly.

"I have just the thing," Evelyn said. Rising, she went to the queen's dressing table. She prepared a basin of cool water and mixed in a generous handful of dried lavender that she had brought back from the mortal realm as a gift. It wouldn't cure the queen's pain, but the soothing fragrance might help ease it. She then soaked a strip of linen, wringing out the excess water.

"Lie back," she said gently. The queen obeyed, and Evelyn laid the cloth over her closed eyes.

Siobhan exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a degree. "Thank you. You have always been good to me." Evelyn nodded, though the queen did not see.

She had been at the queen's side for more years than she had memory. She had no purpose in life but to serve. Still, her time as the queen's handmaiden had not been easy. Siobhan was a tempestuous rule, her mood ever-changing. She would caress Evelyn's cheek one moment and strike it the next.

After several moments, Siobhan removed the cloth from her head and held it at arm's length for Evelyn to take. "My son," she said without opening her eyes. "Tell me, has he made any progress?"

"I believe so," Evelyn replied.

Siobhan's delicate brows arched, but still, her eyes remained closed. "You believe so?" she said, her tone slightly mocking.

"He is with the girl now, my queen. I saw them leave together this morning. They were traveling in the direction of the park."

"And you didn't follow them?"

"No, my queen. I thought my presence might be a hindrance."

Siobhan's fingers went to her brow once again. "You are right. And yet he still takes too long."

"Love cannot be rushed, my queen."

"Perhaps not," Siobhan replied. "But passion has no such restraint."

"She is a mortal child," Evelyn said dismissively. "What does she know of passion?"

Siobhan opened her eyes—slowly—and regarded Evelyn with a cool temper. "Enough, I would wager. Even humans as young as she are not completely innocent in matters of the heart." Siobhan continued to stare at her before finally adding, "Perhaps it was a mistake sending you to mind my son."

Evelyn's eyes widened, and she threw herself at Siobhan's feet. "It was not a mistake, my queen! Only . . . love is complicated and fickle. Luke grows weary, and Maura . . . her heart is shattered. Her father abandoned her, you see, and . . . she does not trust as easily as some."

"Meanwhile," the queen said through her teeth, "I grow increasingly weaker by the day. The last girl was not enough to sustain me, let alone my court. I must have Maura. I will have her."

"There are other girls," Evelyn said. The queen's desperation pained her so. If only she could ease it somehow . . .

"No," the queen insisted. "It has to be Maura."

Evelyn rose then and began tidying the already spotless room, recognizing the futility of their argument. "Very well, my queen. Then it is Maura you shall have."

**********

Maura had never skipped school, though the thought had crossed her mind often enough, especially after her father left and she wondered what the point of anything was. She couldn't believe she was skipping school today—with Luke, of all people—but figured it fell under the jurisdiction of cutting loose and having fun. Her mother would be proud.

Luke drove them to the park and led her to a secluded spot under the low-hanging branches of a Pendula tree. Aside from the relative quiet it afforded them, the shady underside offered relief from the already warm day.

"What's got you feeling suddenly inspired?" Maura asked, her curiosity peaking. Luke had been quiet during the drive over. Not that he was a talkative person on a good day, but his silence now felt different somehow. Pensive.

Luke's eyes traveled the contours of her face as if searching for something. "I have a story for you," he said.

"Oh," Maura replied, somewhat surprised. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of relinquishing control of their project. Still, if handing over the reins meant Luke pulling his own weight, she wouldn't complain. She sat cross-legged on the cool, dirt-packed ground and pulled out a spiral notebook and pen from her bag. "Well, go on with your brilliant idea then. I'll take notes."

Luke nodded and sat on the ground opposite her, gripping his knees with his hands. "Once upon a time—"

"Is that really how you want to start the story?"

Luke blinked. "Isn't that how fairytales begin?"

Maura couldn't tell if he was being facetious, so she shrugged and gestured for him to continue. She could always delete that part from the final copy.

"Once upon a time," he began again, "a man and his wife promised their first-born child to a faery queen in exchange for a favor."

"This sounds like lots of other fairytales I've heard," Maura muttered, her pen nevertheless scratching feverishly across the paper. "Be careful not to plagiarize."

"Don't worry. This story is all my own."

"Great. So what was the favor?"

"I don't know," he replied. "The favor could be anything."

"Probably wealth or fame," Maura said. "Those are the usual culprits. People are greedy."

"The point is the couple promised their child to the faery queen, but when the child was born, they changed their minds. Not even a favor from the queen was worth the trade."

"They sound like awesome parents," Maura said. Her pen stilled then, and she looked at Luke. "As these stories usually go, I imagine the queen wasn't thrilled that they backed out of the deal."

"No," Luke answered. "She took the child without the benefit of a favor and raised him as her son."

"Ouch. Karma, am I right?"

"When the boy reached a certain age, the queen made him immortal."

"Immortal," Maura repeated. "Are you saying she turned him into a faery?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Interesting."

A dog barked then, appearing suddenly inside their hideout. Luke laughed and extended the back of his hand. "Hi, puppy," he said. With a cautious sniff, the dog ventured closer to let Luke scratch behind its ears and under its chin. It closed its eyes in apparent ecstasy, its hind leg thumping the ground. Maura watched, her opinion of Luke rising a few degrees. Anyone who liked dogs couldn't be all bad, could they?

A sharp whistle shattered the moment, bringing the dog to attention, and it bolted. Luke stared at the spot from where it had disappeared, his hand still hovering in the air and a wistful expression on his face. Maura's heart clenched in her chest. She understood that sort of longing.

"Was, uh . . ." She cleared her throat and tried again. "Was there some condition to the queen granting the boy immortality?"

He looked at her, though she could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "What?"

"Why did the faery queen grant the boy immortality?"

"The queen loved him," he replied. "She wanted him to stay with her forever."

Maura's brows pushed together. "Okay, but did he want to be a faery?"

"He wanted to please the queen," he said. "He never knew his real parents, remember? She's the only mother he's ever known."

Maura tilted her head from side to side, equivocating. "That didn't really answer my question, but whatever. Is the queen evil?"

"No," Luke said emphatically.

"Well, the story has to have an antagonist. The queen stole the boy from his parents, even though they had changed their mind about wanting the favor, so . . ."

"I know, but . . . she's not evil."

"If the boy had asked to be made a faery," Maura argued, "the reader might be able to forgive her. If she made him a faery because she was too selfish to let him live out his mortal life—"

"Selfish?"

"Well, yeah. If you love someone, you don't take away their freedom or their choices. Being made immortal is one hell of a life sentence, don't you think?" She bit her bottom lip, staring off into the shadows as she thought about loud. "Maybe the queen has some ulterior motive. What's the boy's purpose in this story? He can't just sit by her side all day looking pretty. And does she steal other babies?"

"Well—"

"And what happens to them?" Maura demanded, her pen traveling across the paper.

"I suppose they remain in the faery realm, never to return home."

"Is she, like, a wicked witch who gobbles them up if they misbehave?" Maura laughed. Luke didn't even smile.

"Not exactly," he said. "But something like that."

Maura's pen stilled, and she looked at him. "This is your story, Luke. You control the narrative."

Luke seemed at a loss for words, though, unsure what to say next. "The queen, and all who live in her kingdom, survive on something called Essence."

"Essence," Maura echoed. "What is that?"

"It's like . . ." His words trailed off as he searched for an explanation. "It's like a human's life force. Deprived of their Essence, mortals are nothing. They might as well be dead."

"So, this . . . Essence is like your spirit or soul?"

"Yes."

"And the queen eats that?"

"Consumes might be more accurate."

Maura nodded her head. "We can always change that part, but I think this is good. Really good. So . . . if Essence is like a life force or someone's soul, how does the queen get it?"

"Her son collects it."

"Aha!" Maura exclaimed. "I knew he had a purpose."

"The queen sends the boy to the mortal realm to . . . to seduce these particular mortals. These girls. They fall in love with him, and all it takes is one kiss . . ."

Maura snorted. "I can't speak for you, but being seduced by a hot faery boy doesn't sound so bad to me." She stopped writing and looked up at him. "Do you think it's too cliché, though?"

"Love's kiss doesn't always save lives."

She grinned. "Plot twist."

"In this story, the kiss seals their fate."

"But what good is a dead girl to the queen?"

"It's not the girl the queen wants, remember? And the girl doesn't technically die. She loses her essence, everything that makes her vibrant and alive and exceptional. That is what sustains the queen and her kingdom. It's the essence of her power."

"Oooh. That's a good line," Maura said. "One problem, though. A person's essence is not a tangible thing."

"No," Luke replied. "It's magic."

He reached up then and absently fingered the leather cord around his neck. She'd noticed it before but had never asked about the strange-looking bauble that was attached. It looked like an empty glass vial. He caught her staring and tucked the trinket inside his shirt.

"He makes the girl fall in love with him and then he just . . . takes it," Luke said at last.

Maura nodded. "He steals it with a kiss, like someone steals a heart."

"Exactly."

The premise of the story was good, if not a little far-fetched. Then again, fairytales were inherently outrageous. There was always some amount of suspension of disbelief required on the reader's part. She tapped her pen against the notebook, thinking. "A story has to have conflict, a dilemma of some sort. This is decent background fodder, but what's the real problem?"

Luke frowned. "The problem is the boy despises himself for the role he plays in these innocent girls having their lives stolen from them. He can no longer serve the queen, even if that means betraying her."

"Hmmm . . ."

"Keep in mind that Essence is what sustains the queen and all of her subjects."

"Essence of Girl," Maura joked, saying it with an admittedly horrible French accent. "Without it, they all die."

"Exactement."

Maura raised her brows and let out a low whistle. "I'd say that's quite the dilemma our faery boy has."

"Yes," Luke agreed. "What do you suggest he does?"

Maura stared at him. "You're asking me?"

"I am."

"I dunno. This is your story. And from what I can tell," she said, gesturing to the pages of notes she had taken, "you don't really need my advice. You claimed you can't write, but you were obviously holding out on me."

"I thought we were partners," he said, his expression hardening.

Maura bristled. "Yeah, and as I recall, you weren't too eager to help me when I needed it."

Luke leaned back against the trunk of the tree and brought up his legs, letting his hands dangle over his knees.

"Why the sudden interest in this assignment anyway?" she said. "A few days ago, you couldn't care less."

Luke closed his eyes. "Let's just say I'm seeing things a little more clearly now."

"You're failing the class, aren't you?" Maura said. Luke didn't respond, which she took as confirmation. She sighed. "Fine. The resolution is easy. All the boy has to do is find a way to break the queen's magic spell."

He looked at her. "What magic spell?"

"This is a fairytale, Luke. There's always a magic spell."

Luke fingered the cord around his neck again. "What if the boy runs away and refuses to seduce the girl?"

"That wouldn't resolve the conflict. That might get rid of the evil queen, but it would also wipe out all those innocent faeries, including the boy."

"Yes, but he would save the girl."

"Saving the girl is a noble idea, but the story can't end with self-sacrifice. He's the hero. Readers want a happy ending."

"But if they fall in love and kiss, she will lose her essence."

"There is no if they fall in love," Maura said. "They have to fall in love. That's part of the conflict." She shifted to her knees, gesturing excitedly. "I mean, just imagine! One kiss is what separates each of them from certain doom. If Faery-Boy doesn't collect the girl's essence and hand it over to the queen, he will die. But if they do kiss, she loses her essence and becomes an empty shell of herself."

"He will literally love her to death," he said.

"Not literally," Maura replied. "Metaphorically. You said that technically the girl doesn't die despite losing her essence."

"She might as well be dead."

"Whatever," Maura echoed, though she smiled. "All I know is they have to find a way to break the magic spell together. Yes! That's what they must do."

Maura laughed triumphantly and began flipping through the notes, looking for missing details. "Is there someone who could guide them? Like a . . . a gnome, or a troll that lives under a bridge, or a wise old owl?"

Luke laughed through his nose. "A gnome?"

"It's a fairytale. Who's to say there aren't gnomes?"

"I don't know about gnomes or trolls," Luke said, "but there might be someone."

Maura closed the notebook and shoved it into her bag. "Well, I'm hungry and can't think properly on an empty stomach. Before we figure out who that mystery guru is, do you want to grab something to eat?"

Luke stared at her for so long she thought he was going to refuse. "Okay," he finally said. "I suppose one lunch won't hurt."

*****

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