The triumph of finding Amaryllis didn’t last as long as I’d wanted. I was happy to finally have a guide, but the pixie kept stopping to fly in circles while humming and dancing in the air, or to sniff some flowers, or to coo at invisible critters in the bushes I was certain it had made up. It didn’t help that Amaryllis would dodge nearly every question I had by saying the pixie mother would explain everything.

“Amaryllis?”

The pixie spun around, tiny eyes meeting mine. “What troubles you, Sidra?”

“We’ve been walking for hours. How much farther?”

As it opened its mouth, the distorted sound of its question echoed back from somewhere above. We started and looked up, searching for the source.

I gripped my hatchet. Against the growing darkness of the sky, the lacework of leaves looked black, and I only saw the bird because it chose to reveal itself. It walked along the branch of a young pine, sky blue eyes fixed on me.

A magpie. At least I thought it was —  it was larger than any magpie I’d seen before, but the shape of its beak and tail feathers, along with the white sides and belly, were familiar.

That wasn’t all that was familiar about it, however. Those calm, unblinking eyes were watching me with haughty curiosity. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew —  felt that it was the same creature as the giant, blue-eyed deer I’d seen this morning. Had it changed shape, or simply switched one host for another? I didn’t know. The only thing I knew for certain was that the bird and the deer were one and the same.

And it was following me.

“We need to go!”

Amaryllis grabbed a lock of my hair and tried to pull me away from the bird. I didn’t move, and of course, the pixie wasn’t strong enough to move me, either.

My traveling companion didn’t try to convince me again, and the faint flapping of its wings punctuated the thick silence that settled between me and the bird.

What was that nursery rhyme? One for sorrow, two for mirth …

I took a step back. The magpie didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. It was so still not even the breeze dared touch its feathers.

I took another step back — still no response. Carefully, checking my foothold before shifting my weight, I managed to move far enough away that the bird became nothing but two blue dots in the sea of black. When I was certain I’d have time to react if it flew after me, I turned and ran.

Darkness grew; if it had followed, I wouldn’t know. We’d only seen it because it had made its presence obvious, because it had wanted us to find it. But why show itself to me as a deer first and now do this? Was it toying with me? If so, then what for?

I found Amaryllis cowering in the hollow of a tree, five hundred paces away from where we’d seen the magpie. When it spotted me, it flew out of the hollow to point accusingly.

“I told you to run! You didn’t listen!” the pixie complained, awfully cocky for someone who’d been sniveling in fear a moment ago.

I barely resisted the urge to grab it and give it a good shake.

“What was that bird? What do you know?” I demanded.

“It was a high fae!” Amaryllis checked behind me and glanced around in the meadow before slowly hovering closer to my face and whispering, “They’re evil, don’t you know?”

A high fae. Grandmother had told me to find one of those to help me, and Amaryllis wasn’t exactly the savior I’d hoped it would be.

“I shouldn’t have run. Could I go back and talk to it?” I wondered.

“What? I just told you it’s evil! Are all humans this dumb?”

“I need help from someone powerful.”

“Pixie mother can help you! She’s very powerful, nearly as strong as a high fae.”

Would “nearly” be enough to oppose Lord Thorne? If Amaryllis would ever actually get me to its mother in the first place, because as soon as it had finished its sentence, it began humming again while flying further west, as though the encounter with the magpie hadn’t happened.

I sighed and trudged after it reluctantly. One more chance I’d give it to take me where I needed to be. If it failed, or if the pixie mother couldn’t help me, then I’d have to speak to that magpie-deer. Despite it nearly scaring the soul out of me, I hoped I’d see it again.

It could be my best chance at saving Sinéad.

Night fell. We still hadn’t reached the pixie mother, but perhaps that had been for the best. My mind was clouded by the day’s events and I was in no position to bargain for anything should the creature want something in return for its help.

Amaryllis and I stopped in a small clearing. I built a campfire and sat down on my bedroll with my knees up to my chin, hoping to silence the gnawing hunger, hoping that staring into the fire would stop my eyes from closing with exhaustion.

Amaryllis watched me work from its perch on the biggest of a cluster of death caps, dangling its tiny, insect-like legs. Eventually, I stared back.

“What do pixies eat?” I asked after the silence became uncomfortable.

“We drink blood and chew tasty meat! Deer, boars, rabbits …”

I kept my expression unaffected while wondering how exactly that little creature could take down anything bigger than a rat. Perhaps they hunted in swarms, descending upon their prey like flies on a cadaver, a hundred tiny mouths and a thousand sharp teeth tearing at flesh.

I suppressed a shiver. Maybe sleeping with this thing nearby wasn’t such a good idea, though I was sure I’d notice if something started eating me. Assuming I managed to fall into a deep sleep despite my surroundings, of course.

Amaryllis yawned and got comfortable atop the mushroom cap, curling up to sleep with the tiny wings wrapped around itself.

My eyes were drowning in sleepy tears and my body begged for food and rest. Every time I blinked, I’d see that cursed violin and my ears would ring as if remembering the pain. I thought I’d earned myself permanent damage, but luckily the ringing had stopped a little after the encounter. Perhaps most of that pain had been in my head.

And then there was the magpie-deer. The fire burned white spots into my vision, yet couldn’t erase the memory of those painfully blue eyes. It was as if I could still see them.

Wait. I could still see them.

I blinked the imprint of the fire away and stared into the darkness above the flames. A ball of blue light, only fifteen paces away, followed by another, then another, then another, forming a path that disappeared into the distance. The same blue lights that had led me to my weapons back on the beach, when I escaped the troll settlement. They’d helped me before, but I wasn’t in any danger now, was I?

I glanced over at Amaryllis. Those blue lights had been more helpful than the pixie had been the entire day. It was still asleep, but as I rose to my feet, it shifted, antennae twitching at the sound. I had to be quick, and couldn’t gather my things. I carefully grabbed my ax and the knapsack with food before quietly sneaking past the cluster of mushrooms and toward the blue lights. I hoped they wouldn’t take me too far away. I hoped I’d come back alive.

The forest had grown quiet, but it wasn’t holding its breath yet. Leaves shifted in the cold breeze and the moon shone bright, lighting my path almost as much as the blue sparks did. If it wasn’t for my beating heart and the dangers lurking in every shadow, it would’ve been peaceful.

I glanced over my shoulder. The campfire was only a little bigger than the brightest stars in the sky. I wondered if Amaryllis would hear me if I screamed for help. Whether it could even help me if it did.

After a few more minutes of following the lights, the way forward cleared of trees and the sound of water reached my ears. I climbed uphill, past the final light floating at the very top, and watched it wink out of existence before turning to see the lake before me.

The breeze had become a howling wind, sending ripples across the surface. Black water glittered in the moonlight, mimicking the sea of stars above it. I’d never seen a moon as large as this one before; it was almost a presence, a face staring down at us.

Us, because I wasn’t alone. On the pale shore below, standing close to the water yet untouched by it, was a dark figure. A silhouette of a man, with the antlers of a deer, massive wings shaped like a magpie’s, and eyes bluer than the daylight sky. Even at a distance, I knew he was looking at me. Unblinking, waiting.

With my heart in my throat and my hand tightly closed around my ax, I began walking toward the high fae. Perhaps the antlers or the wings should’ve grabbed my attention more, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his.

He didn’t blink, not once. Only the iris was visible, glowing yet shedding no light around it. The rest of him was cast in shadow despite the moon shining so brightly, as if the darkness had coalesced around him.

I stopped moving as soon as my toes touched the shore, five or six paces away from him. I didn’t dare move closer, or say anything, or breathe. This man — no, this creature, had helped me once. Watched me sleep once. Scared the shit out of me once. He’d been following me, and I had to know why.

Still without blinking, the fae tilted his head to the side, regarding me with detached curiosity.

“Are you afraid?”

His voice was clear and melodic, much like the sound of flowing water, but cold enough to send a chill down my spine.

The question, on the other hand, was mockery. It had to be. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he could see me.

I gripped the ax tighter and swallowed to make sure my voice wouldn’t crack when I replied, “Fear won’t stop me.”

The fae chuckled, and continued to watch me in silence.

I took half a step forward.

“What do you want? Why have you been following me?” I demanded, each word trembling with desperation.

He tilted his head to the other side in what looked like amusement, without replying to this, either.

“The pixie is luring you into a trap,” he said instead.

“How do you know?”

“It is in its nature. They feast upon blood, and once they have you in their nest, they will cut your throat and bleed you dry.”

As much as I hated to admit it, I’d hoped Amaryllis would’ve felt at least some obligation to help me after I saved it from the magic fiddle. It had been a foolish hope. I already knew the creatures here had an astonishing capacity for cruelty.

Assuming this fae wasn’t lying, assuming he couldn’t … He must’ve had a reason for speaking to me now.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

Another pause, filled only by the water lapping at the shore and the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze. The faery’s eyes moved to look at the weapon in my hand, then back at my face as they narrowed.

“See it as a peace offering.”

Then, maybe …

“Can you help me?”

He cocked his head to the side, “Perhaps. Do you want my help?”

I hesitated. Admitting to it would put me at a disadvantage straight away.

“Perhaps.”

The fae laughed. 

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.”