Lysander led the entourage through the field Efa drew so fondly. His newly acquired ladies stumbled behind him as the sun long disappeared behind the trees. Without so much as a glance back at them, he opened his palm and let wisps of light fly from his grasp. Like butterflies, they flew about their group and provided enough light to see. 

“Thank you,” Dew whispered. 

If Lysnader heard her, he made no indication of it. 

Dew and Efa held hands as they approached an elder tree hidden among the oaks of the forest. Nothing about the tree caught the sisters’ attention except for the round cavity in its trunk. Big enough for an owl or cat to reside in. 

Lysander placed two fingers just above the hole and cut an invisible line straight down. The trunk began to crack. Pieces of bark shed to the ground like Dew’s favorite hound shedding its winter coat. 

Efa made a strangled noise of fright and tucked herself into Dew’s side as the splitting trunk became louder and louder. 

At last, the cracking noise ceased. 

Lysander moved forward into the newly formed doorway. Beyond lay only darkness. The wisps faded with every step he took. 

Dew tugged Efa along, one hand brushing the split trunk as she passed. She expected light to greet them but the darkness continued. It suffocated her with its thinning air. She wanted to flee, to take Efa back the way they came but as soon as the thought entered her mind, a crunch echoed in her ears. 

A second crunch. 

Then, her feet pressed against something fragile. 

Twigs. 

A chorus of twigs snapping filled the air as they left the narrow passage and stepped into the dark world of the Fae. 

It must have been night because Dew couldn’t see much in front of her. She never heard the knight’s tales or any other stories about the world of the Fae. Only their twisted and mischievous tendencies. 

Efa stopped, pulling Dew with her. Lysander stood in front of them but neither could see him. 

“You cannot see well, can you?” Lysander’s voice rumbled deep from his chest. 

“Not in the dark,” Dew nodded and glanced around them. 

Wisps returned to dance around them, produced by Lysander’s hand. He continued to lead them on through the dark forest, following some path unknown to the humans. 

Dew tried to discern anything around them but failed at every turn of her head… until she glanced up. 

Streaks of light twirled through the leaves of the trees. Whites. Blues. Purples. Greens. Bright and dancing with the breeze. It offered no light to guide her but the display intrigued her. 

She turned to her sister but Efa already followed her gaze and watched with wide eyes. Efa’s mouth fell open, completely mesmerized. 

“Our world is dark,” Lysander explained, still walking several feet ahead of them. “But, our life glows bright.” 

Dew wordlessly listened, eyes on the display. She thought that perhaps Fae glowed too. The heads the knight brought did not, but in broad daylight, she doubted they would. Perhaps death killed their mythical appearance. Her eyes trailed over Lysander’s silhouette, his armor hiding his skin well. 

It would be a long walk before they reached his castle. Looming like its king with its impenetrable walls and ever-watching towers. Fires blazed bright at the top of the towers and smaller torches flickered by the large gate at the front. Otherwise, shadows encompassed Dew’s view.  

Dew trailed behind Lysnader quietly. He passed members of the court scattered in the entryway, silencing their curiosity with little effort. One turn of his head and they snapped their gawking mouths shut. 

More walking through stone halls that blurred together until they ended up in front of wide double doors. Swung open, she could see a suite inside.

The first room inside, Dew recognized as a sitting room. A fire blazed gently beneath a shiny mantle of blue silver. Images of what appeared to be a hunt were carved into the marble affixed to the wall above. Soft leather sofas and chairs crowded around simple tables. One set in front of the fireplace and a second further into the room by a vast mosaic display. 

Lysander guided her to the left where a small door would lead into her chambers. Dew pretended to not see a matching door on the right. She didn’t want the answer to that question.

She gasped as she entered the room. A large space with a bed three times the size of her previous one. A mosaic display of flowers hung over a dead fireplace by wire from the ceiling. They chimed as Lysander threw magick onto the old logs and cracked the room open with light. A vanity display hid in the far corner beside a door to an expected closet. 

Dew expected some kind of lodging, nothing as grand as the room she stood in. She curtsied deep as Lysander turned to her. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” 

“I am Rhydidd Rhag y Gorchygwr Tyweyll, so proclaimed by the people of these lands after I killed the false king and claimed the throne for myself.” Lysander stepped forward, his shadow looming over Dew. 

Her breath quickened at his approach. Her sister sank to the floor in a bow beside her.

“The sglyfath you entertained called me Lysnader Fae. The dark wrench said it was a human name-”

“My father entertained the knight, yes.” Dew quickly corrected him, wanting no part in the accusations. “My sister was correct that Lynsader is a human name.” 

Lysander stepped closer until his neck bent oddly to stare down at her. Dew almost reeled back but her feet melded to the floor and she could only stare hopelessly up at him. 

“What kind of insult is Lysander?”

“It’s only a name, Your Majesty,” Dew swallowed hard. Not a name she was familiar with but a name nevertheless. 

“Rhyddid,” he corrected harshly, the roaring of waves returning.

“A foreign name, Rhyddid.” Dew’s head buzzed as she tried to give a solid answer. “I am not familiar with anyone called as such, but it is a name I have heard in stories before,” she gasped for breath. “Heroic tales of Lysander. Some kind of king in a faraway land.” 

Her answer satisfied him and he stepped away from her. 

“You did not entertain the knight?” His voice softened. He sounded almost forlorn. 

“No…” Dew assumed he meant as a hostess. 

“Did she?” Rhyddid nodded to Efa, still kneeling on the floor. 

“No.” This time, Dew understood exactly what he meant. “We are not whores. We are the baron’s daughters.” 

Rhyddid nodded quickly, expression still shadowed by the helmet. Dew wanted to curse being unable to read his thoughts like this. 

“Why would a baron want Fae heads?” 

“I don’t know and it was not my place to ask,” Dew answered honestly, the rushing of blood beginning to die down in her ears. 

Rhyddid said nothing to that and turned his attention to the Fae still holding Dew and Efa’s belongings. He instructed them to place Dew’s down and for a steward to take Efa to her own rooms down the corridor. 

Efa rose to her feet, trembling still, and followed the steward out. 

Dew wanted to cry as her sister vanished. 

“These are your rooms now. Rest.” And Rhyddid vanished too.