It was mid-day when Ashara reached the closed portcullis of Twilight castle, her bones sore. The winding road curved behind her like a brown river as she looked back, uncertain. Will they even let me in? Gods know how I must look!

Ashara ran a hand over her matted hair, attempting to flatten what was sure to be a tangled nest. She looked up at the guards, who were walking back and forth on the battlements. The two guards, dressed in white chainmail with blue cloaks, stood, heads tilted away from where she stood. Did they not see me when I came in?

This made Ashara grin wickedly. If they did not see me, I see no reason to let them know I’m here. I wonder if the old entrance Dandelion and I used to sneak in and out of the castle is still there. Ashara looked down at the village, the people milling about like ants. I feel a bit stupid for not realising that the village below is one of the villages Dandelion and I used to sneak off to when we were younger and wingless.

Ashara looked back up. The guards were still unaware of their visiter. Not giving them another thought, she marched towards the side of the castle, a giddy smile on her face.

The side of the grey stone and mortar castle was pristine save for a thick layer of vines that his something grey and dark, rusted copper. Upon further Examination, tearing away at the vines, she found it was a door with chipped paint. The last time I was here it was little more than a hole in the wall hidden by a plank of wood.

She grabbed the handle and tugged. The door didn’t budge. As she let it go, huffing with irritation, the door rattled, the bolt sliding back. Ashara’s eyes widened. Oh no. The grey door with it’s rusted green filigree. A guard poked his head out, dark hair short and curled.

“Who are you?” He asked, his brows drawn down and his mouth scowling. There’s no going back now. I might as well tell him who I am.

Ashara threw her shoulders back, tilting her chin up at the guard who fingered the bone sword at his hip, and said, “I am Ashara of the Summer court and I demand to be let in!” The guard’s eyes bugged, and his mouth fell open. Ashara moved past him and into the bailey of the castle, making her way to the palace kitchens, on the side of the keep.

She knocked on the door, a smile on her face. It opened a moment later, the human cook red faced and pudgy, her red hair falling out of her veil and into her green eyes. She looked around, her beady eyes far above Ashara’s head.

“Well? Who is it? I’ve got a five course meal to cook!” Her voice made Ashara cover her ears. She took a chance and tugged on the giantess’ stained linen apron. She looked down, her anger melting away when she saw Ashara. Her grin was toothy and wide.

“Why if it isn’t the little elf princess,” She said, bending down half her height to look Ashara in the eye. Ashara smiled, hugging the giantess. “It’s good to see you again, marin.” The cook tugged Ashara in, shutting the door after her.

The giantess left Ashara sitting at a table, telling her to stay there while the giantess made her something to eat.

The bustling life of the kitchen reminded Ashara of the many times she and Dandelion would sneak down here to talk with the servants to avoid the agonising small talk the adults made. I hope I don’t run in to Lady Foxglove while I’m here, but the possibility of that is high, once Lord Periwinkle or Lady Violet catch wind of my arrival here.

Ashara shuddered, seeing the haughty and beautiful blonde daughter of the duke and duchess in her mind's eye. At least Dandelion isn’t here for her to cling to. More's the pity. She’d certainly make it her mission to slow him down. Marin set a thick trencher piled with thin chunks of deer meat, slices of pale goat cheese, and a small horn of gold wine on the side. She smiled at Ashara before patting her on the head and returning to her work.

Just as the first slice of tantalising meat made it’s way to Ashara’s mouth, she heard the sound of the door opening, a shrill voice ringing.

“Cook! Mother sent me to check- Ashara!” Ashara flinched, scowling. The sound of swishing skirts was all the warning she got before the dainty arms of Lady Foxglove wrapped around her throat tightly. The lady’s blond curls draped over Ashara’s cloaked shoulders.

Ashara’s scowl deepened. She turned her head to the side.

“What do you want Lady Foxglove?” Ashara turned her head, glared at the smirking blonde, even as she released her hold on Ashara.

“Now is that any way to talk to your friend?” The lady tsked, her smirk flashing ferrell teeth. Ashara crossed her arms, watching Lady Foxglove come around the table, snapping her fingers expectantly. A nearby kitchen servant rushed to ring the bell thrice before bringing out a sugar crusted tart and a glass of pale moon wine. The door opened once more, bringing a flustered pale haired servant in pale lilac livery carrying an evening blue cushion, embroidered with silver. He set the cushion down, keeping his eyes to the stone floor as Lady Foxglove settled herself demurely on the cushion.

Lady Foxglove was pretty, much good that did when all faerie maidens of the noblesse were lovelier than the next. Her skin was pale, nearly translucent. Her face was heart shaped and had a short, doll like nose. Her lilac eyes were framed by sweeping lashes, always on the verge of crying. She stood a few inches above Ashara, and had the lanky build of an elf. Her wings were a soft swirl of blue and purple, in the shape of dragonfly wings. Her cloth of silver dress, embroidered with gold flowers, sparkled in the afternoon light.

“That will be all, servant. You may return to your duties.” Lady Foxglove waved him away, flicking her irritated lilac eyes toward the ceiling, her lip snarling in disgust. Ashara rolled her eyes, her lips pinching downward in a small frown before smiling brittlely at Lady Foxglove.

“Where’s Dandelion?” Lady Foxglove asked in between bites of tart. Ashara bristled, licking her fingers clean before biting out, “Prince Dandelion is on The Hunt.” Ashara looked at her food. Her appetite had vanished.

Lady Foxglove’s eyes widened in a pretty look of shock. “Is he now?” She said, wiping her small, pink mouth on a silk napkin. Ashara nodded, watching Lady Foxglove’s eyes stare at her cloak. This girl has lusted after my cousin’s crown since our first visit here. It shouldn’t be a shock she’s pouting. I almost wish Dandelion was here, if only out of spit. Ashara chuckled at the thought of Dandelion’s panicked face as he sought to untangle himself from Lady Foxglove’s grip with little success.

The lady in question pouted prettily, her large eyes sad in the afternoon sun. Though I am loath to admit it, she is rather lovely. Mayhap she would consent to distracing my dear cousin for a short spell while I halved my time by riding on horseback to the Unseelie court…

Ashara ate picked at the slices of venison on her trencher, lowering her eyes and attempting to look thoughtful. She looked up, watching the lady take delicate bites of her tart. Ashara sipped on her gold summer wine before speaking.

“My cousin will likely be coming here during The Hunt. Perhaps he might enjoy the chance to bask in your company for a while?” Ashara took a bite of goat cheese, letting it sit on her tongue before swallowing with a gulp of the spicy wine.

Lady Foxglove had the grace to look surprised, her pout disappearing. “I could entertain darling Dandelion for a few days,” She said, running her tongue over her lips. Ashara tilted her head, a small smile on her lips.

“Of coarse I can’t let you do this without expecting something in return, can I?” Ashara’s smile was more of a catty smirk. Lady Foxglove nodded, her eyes wild. If she didn’t look so desperate, I’d think she was plotting.

“Anything within reason, of coarse, Princess.” Lady Foxglove’s voice was soft, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Ashara nodded, finishing off her wine before licking her lips.

“I’ll need your best horse, a parcel of good food to last two weeks, and a thick set of clothes, boots and a cloak.” Do not let her trick me. I’ve given her a few days with my unsuspecting cousin, more than her ilk deserves and yet less than she craves.

Lady Foxglove nodded, making Ashara unsure if she was paying attention. “You may take what you need. It will not be missed.”

Ashara stuffed a few of the strips of meat into her mouth before standing.She motioned to Lady Foxglove, who gave a sigh before rising and dusting the crumbs off of her dress. Ashara let Lady Foxglove lead her up the winding staircases and through tapestry lined hallways to her bed chambers in the north tower.

Ashara took a moment to look around. The Lady Foxgloves dressing room of to the side of her bed chambers was lined in rich carpet, thick and soft. On the walls hung a multitude of beaten silver mirrors. To the opposite side of the doorway lay five large cream colored wardrobes.

Lady Foxglove swept her arm in their direction. “You can help me decide on a gown for impressing your cousin,” Lady Foxglove purred, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Ashara rolled her eyes, stalking across the room and flinging open the middle wardrobe. It was filled with cloaks and shawls of all colors and fabrics. She took out a green cloak made of wool and lined at the edges with brown bear fur. George ought to appreciate this one.

A knock sounded at the door.

Lady Foxglove sighed. “Where’s a servant when you need one?” Ashara looked back at her. “You could just answer the door yourself,” Ashara said, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the question.

Lady Foxglove sniffed. “Like a peasant? No. I’ll just ring the bell. It’s nearly time for the mid day meal anyay. I need a new dress.” Ashara groaned. How can one person be so pretentious? Attempting to ignore her selfish host, Ashara flicked through the multicolored cloaks. I’ll need a white cloak.

Ashara sighed, taking a step back and looking at the cloaks liked in the wardrobe. “Lady Foxglove!” She looked at the blonde, who sat in a lovely blue chaise lounge. “Do you have a white cloak?” Lady Foxglove shook her head.

“No. But I do have a dove grey one.” Ashara blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine, That’ll do.” Lady Foxglove shrugged.

“The matching boots are under the cloak.” Ashara looked down. A pair of dainty grey boots that rose to ankle height, with a slight heel, and bright silver buttons on the sides with matching silver embroidery on the cuffs and toes, sat beneath the cloak. She turned around. She probably doesn’t have any practical footwear if these are anything to go by.

“Do you have anything… practical?” Lady Foxglove laughed, fanning herself with a pale, long fingered hand.

“Only a pair of riding boots.” Ashara felt relieved.

“Where are they?”

“In the next wardrobe with my riding attire and a few night dresses,” Lady Foxglove said, stretching and yawning. Another knock sounded at the door. “That must be the servant! Finally.” Lady Foxglove left the room.

Ashara opened the next wardrobe, looking at the barely there night dresses. She might as well sleep naked. At the very end of the wardrobe, under several pairs of short dresses, were matching pairs of calf length boots. Finally! It’s not much, but considering Lady Foxglove that isn’t a surprise.

Ashara withdrew the white, but otherwise plain, boots, from the wardrobe, setting them to one side.

“Father! You’ll never guess who came for a visit!” Lady Foxgloves voice made Ashara freeze. For Founder’s Sake!