About ten minutes later, Yara slowly opened the doors, met with the gazes of dozens of fae folk. She smiled cordially, replying to a question here and a question there. The fae seemed equally curious and excited to see her, like she was an artifact on display at a museum.  

Two women came up to her, one which had frizzy red hair, like the leaves of a maple, while the other had close-cropped brown hair. 

“Helia, of house Helianthus,” the red-haired woman introduced herself. “My friend here is Dela, of house Centaurea.” 

“Yara,” she said. “Pleasure to meet you two.”

“Ours as well. I hope you are enjoying your time with the…” Helia trailed off. “The wonderful prince.” 

“Do I detect some…disdain for the prince?” Yara asked, unsure if she had overstepped her bounds, but the prince was nowhere to be seen. He was likely handling some personal business or tending to the affairs of the crown—she was sure he had a lot to do before the big ceremony, so she didn’t mind. 

“Not disdain, necessarily. More of a…concern.” Helia seemed to be trying so hard to remain even a bit nice that Yara could feel it from a foot away. The woman did not seem to be the type that often had kind things to say about anyone. 

“He’s always been a bit of an outcast,” Dela added. “A loner.”

Their words held such malcontent, such…haughtiness, it almost made her angry. “Yeah?” was all Yara asked. 

“We just feel you deserve better than a little prince and his imaginary friends.”

These two strangers knew nothing about her, absolutely nothing, and yet they were quick to make such a judgment—and not only about her, at that. 

“Would you say the same thing in front of the prince himself?” Yara asked, hearing the footsteps of Prince Dev behind her. 

The pair’s faces blanched. “W-well—”

“If you have something to say, speak louder. Do you have something that the prince of the ruling house of Eglantine needs to hear?”

The women said nothing, quietly staring at each other. 

“Is that all you can muster?” Yara asked the fae women, as Dev put a hand over her shoulder. 

“The cream puffs are out, Yara. Let’s indulge our taste buds at once!” Dev seemed oblivious to the entire going-ons. He noticed the two fae in front of her, and he gave them a bright smile. “I hope you’re enjoying the festivities. Isn’t my to-be wife the most beautiful you’ve ever seen?” 

“Y-yes, prince Devesh. She is truly a beauty beyond compare.” 

“Quite right!” he said, then began walking off. 

“His family has all of your fathers beneath their heels. One word and you will be sent down to the dumps where you belong,” Yara added in a low tone.

The look on Helia and Dela’s faces was priceless, and they were turning as red as tomatoes. She could tell they were trying to muster a response of some sort, but both had nothing to say. 

Yara left the two behind, catching up to Dev. As they walked away, she looked over her shoulder at the women and winked subtly. Helia and Dela slipped off into the crowd, their heads held down without making eye contact with her again. 

Their conversation may not have been productive, or even worth having, but Yara would not let anyone talk down to her or Dev—that was her job, of course. 

But in the pit of her heart, she knew she had felt a sincere sort of anger at their comments. If they had been able to say something like that to her out loud, who could imagine the sort of things they were saying behind closed doors? 

The fae had seemed to be mostly in awe of Dev, but maybe those were stares of judgment. She couldn’t tell, but she wanted to know more about this mysterious prince. Whatever he was, there was definitely more to him beneath the surface, and behind the mask he presented to the world.

She glanced at Dev furtively, observing his behavior. He didn’t seem to be bothered by some of the fae folk giving him strange looks or snickering in the shadows. His air of confidence was impressive, and he made no eye contact with some of the fae women and men that stared at him with more lustful gazes. Now, she could tell the crowd seemed split in their opinion of the Sixth Prince of the Fae, which made her even more curious.

When they reached the table, Dev carefully picked up one of the cream puffs. In a burst of pink sparkles, a tiny illusionary knife appeared. It sliced through the cream puff, perfectly down the center, without any spillage or breaking of the outer shell. He handed her one half as the knife faded away. “For you, Yara.” He smiled brightly. 

She accepted the offering. The moment she took her first bite, she could feel the subtleties of the flavor. Freshly baked with a soft, pillowy exterior that had the perfect amount of crisp. Lightly sweetened cream, almost custard-like in consistency. 

“Amazing,” Yara said, nodding appreciatively. 

Even though he was a prince who had grown up in the most powerful house of the fae, Dev was wholeheartedly enjoying the pastry, only absolute bliss reflected in his face. It was moments like this when she noticed the sincerity in his approach to life. He found joy in the little things, and he made sure to take his time with whatever he pursued. He was strange, sure, but the way he carried himself was admirable. 

Why did some people harbor so much resentment for him, then? Was he worse than he seemed? Had he done wrong by them? Did he steal their hearts only to break them? 

Yara, once again, couldn’t come to a conclusion, which was rare for her. She always had an opinion, always found a solution, always…well…had her finger on the pulse of anything that happened thus far—until now. This whole experience was something that had been messing with her head, leaving her in a state of confusion more often than not. What she hated the most, at any time, was being uncertain about something—so this was not something she enjoyed in the slightest. 

She had grown tired of living in the Forever Palace, and she had always wished for a change of scenery, or a chance to go into battle like her sisters. She had been given the former now, but it was such a drastic change that she began to realize the value of the idiom, “be careful what you wish for.”

Dev talked about this and that, but cream puffs were the focus of his current tangent. She couldn’t quite bring herself out of her thoughts this time. With her tendency to get stuck inside her head, she ended up missing out on conversations, and sometimes even missed out on being “present.” It was something she had tried to work on, but the rush of changes that had hit her all at once—from the end of the war to the preparations for the surprise wedding—meant that she had lost a bit of control over her rampant thoughts that she would have had otherwise. 

“And that’s how I learned what a fairy ring was,” Dev concluded the story she hadn’t exactly heard a word of. 

“Aha, yeah. That’s funny,” Yara replied. She smiled a little. One thing she did appreciate, though, about all this, was that Dev kept things lighthearted, and he didn’t mind if she was listening or not—or perhaps he simply couldn’t tell. 

Either way, the less conflict, the better, she thought. She roamed back in her mind to the Elder Wyrd tree, for some reason. How would everything change with both factions having access to its sacred grounds after their bonding adventure? The peace was so tenuous that it could break at any moment. 

With all this trouble brewing in the shadows, she hoped that the trip to the tree would be one without too many surprises. But…her consciousness faltered for a moment, and her vision went dark.

Her throat tightened up, and she gasped. When her eyes opened, she was situated right under the great bough of the Elder Wyrd tree, her hand touching the decaying bark.

That was right…she wasn’t at the fae palace, at least not currently. She wasn’t contemplating her life as she was about to marry the Sixth Prince of the Fae. No, that had already happened. Her physical body was here, at the base of the tree, but her mind was locked in a stream of memories from the past. She told herself that her journey was already complete, and what they found was of tantamount importance, and that it needed to be reported to both the fae and elven kingdoms as soon as possible. Yara could feel her consciousness slipping away, returning to the moments she had shared with Dev. Not wanting to be trapped in those memories again, she tried pushing back…and then she remembered. 

He was gone. Dev was nowhere to be found, in the present. And she needed to…

She needed to…

…