by Mary Dublin
She will never laugh like that in Mirrel. The thought was sudden and awful, but it rang with truth. How could she, when every person she'd ever known was now a giant? She'd never be able to leave the safety of her parents' room—not safely anyway, and certainly not on her own.
No matter how she imagined it, the only life she could picture for a princess so small would be selfish to give to Aveline. It would be wrong to reduce her to that.
Esmae swept tears from her eyes, dodging the curious looks from Tessa and Brennan.
Avie's smile dropped at the corners, noticing her mother's plight. She held perfectly still as Esmae brushed a few fingers along the wings' edge. She felt Avie's silky ringlets, the arms that were still soft with baby fat.
"What's wrong, Mummy? Don't you like them?"
A sad smile tugged at Esmae's lips, grateful Avie was not susceptible to her emotions the way she was to full-fledged fairies. If only it were easier to conceal her expression at her size.
"Of course, I love them. They're beautiful, and so are you." She cleared her throat. "It's quite late, my dear. You should wash up and go to bed, don't you think?"
Tessa gave her a pointed look of surprise, but said nothing, particularly when Avie frowned and said, "You're going already?"
Blinking hard, Esmae nodded. "I'm afraid so. I couldn't help but come check up and make sure you weren't giving your Uncle Brennan too hard of a time." Her smile came a little easier. "And I missed saying goodnight, you see."
"I'm behaving!" Avie promised, the worried look on her face fading. She was so pensive sometimes, Esmae had to remind herself she was only a child. Leaning against Esmae's hand, Avie nuzzled her fingertip. "Goodnight, Mummy."
"Yes. Goodnight, my love. I love you so very much" No tears on Avie's face. No begging to return to Mirrel. With a shuddering ache of her heart, Esmae pulled her hand away.
"Will you take her, Brennan?" Tessa piped up. "I'll be there in a moment."
He gave Esmae a hesitant, thoughtful look before flying down to the window. "Of course. Come along, princess. I'll never hear the end of it if Lady Alyssa sees you strolling around in your nice wings."
Hand in hand, Brennan and Avie disappeared into the room while Tessa remained at the windowsill. "You're not taking her tonight, then?"
"How can I?" Esmae pursed her lips, feeling a fresh sting at the back of her eyes. "How can I take her any night? You didn't see her at Mirrel. Here... she's like a different person. Smiling. Unafraid."
Tessa's brow knit. "You mean to keep her here, as the kingdom prescribed? For how long?"
"Until there comes a day when she doesn't need to be afraid of careless human steps, or cover her ears from our voices. I hope that day comes very, very much." She paused, the finality of her own words sinking in like ice. "But until something changes, I… I need to let her go."
Tessa spread her long, gossamer wings and took to the air. She hovered before the queen's face, hands knit nervously in the skirt of her dress.
"She'll have a difficult time being apart from you," Tessa breathed hurriedly. "Aveline speaks of you so often. She cares for you and your king a great deal."
Esmae wiped at her eyes, wanting to feel bitter towards Tessa but unable. The growing ache in her chest that surpassed all other emotion. "She talks of you almost as much lately," she murmured.
Tessa raised her eyebrows. "Surely not?"
"She does. Messengers from Evrosea have been sparse, but she asks for you when they come. She wonders how you're faring. Wonders if you're happy. I can see for myself how comfortable she is with you."
The pearl-haired fairy was at a loss for words, looking torn somewhere between apologies and reassurances, and Esmae couldn't bear to see her suffer, as if she was doing something wrong.
"Will you... continue to look after her? For however long she remains?" Esmae watched Tessa's stunned expression carefully. "I'm not issuing an order. In fact, that would defeat the purpose. I'm only asking what you want. Servants and nursemaids would be more than happy to watch over her, and I know they would do a fine job, but you... you stepped forward without any obligation. Without being asked or being expected of it."
The worry on Tessa's face unknit slowly, though her fingers remained wound in her skirt as she answered, "As much as everyone loves her, and as happy as she is... I see her, and I know she can feel out of place. I don't want her to feel like she's the only one. Queen Esmae, I will do everything in my power to ensure her time in Evrosea is a safe and happy one. She deserves it."
I know you will, Esmae wanted to say, but all that came out was a whimper. Tessa came near, tiny hands tucking away locks of her hair. Vaguely, it dawned that this was the closest the fairy had ever come willingly.
"You mustn't think she's lost to you," Tessa whispered.
"Of course not." Esmae' own conviction on the matter brought a little strength into her voice. "Not so long as I can come back again tomorrow to say goodnight."
Tessa leaned her forehead onto Esmae's cheek, rubbing slow, comforting circles with one hand. Never would she have thought a manipulator would come close with kind intentions, but Tessa's soft voice proved otherwise. "No matter what, you're still her mother. She needs to see you."
A whispered incantation followed Tessa's words, and Esmae felt her head clear the slightest bit. She lifted her hand, creating a platform beneath Tessa's feet.
"Thank you, but don't strain your wings or magic for my sake," Esmae said, her voice coming easier than before.
Tessa looked mildly exasperated as she stepped back on Esmae's palm to meet her eyes. "You're allowed to think of yourself for a moment, you know."
A weak smile played on Esmae's lips as she gently tapped a curled finger under Tessa's chin. "We both need to work on that," she murmured, lifting the fairy back to the window and adjusting her hand so she could climb down. Esmae's smile dropped. "I can barely convince myself. How am I going to tell Daniel?"
"He'll listen to you," Tessa assured.
Esmae nodded, not entirely convinced, but unwilling to press the matter. When the time came, she knew Daniel would do good by their daughter, one way or another.
"And Tessa… Please, don't mention any of this to her. Not just yet, anyway."
Tessa bowed. "You have nothing to fear," she murmured in reply.
Nothing to fear. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say. Avie had been robbed of her life as a human. She would never ride a horse. She would never travel in carriages through the markets or watch tourneys. She would never sit on the throne her father prepared for her.
But as Esmae glanced about the forest kingdom, the ice in her chest began to thaw. There were friends here. Safety. Freedom. Beauty. Fairies flew in lazy patterns, their glows growing more vivid as the sun sank deeper. Children fluttered their wings towards low hanging berries on bushes, while others whispered spells to light the hearths within their homes.
Soon, the kingdom was full of lights and a warmth that never faded even in the darkest night. Those lights had meant home to her, not so many years ago.
Perhaps my darling girl will feel the same.
Hearing Aveline's light laughter behind another frosted window made it a little easier for Esmae to pry herself from the silken grass, rub the tears from her eyes, and return to Mirrel.
Epilogue
A breeze glided through the full branches of the woods, rustling the leaves. Aveline paused, waiting patiently for the swaying to settle before moving on. She strode along the length of a skinny oak branch, ducking beneath scraggly twigs and nearly-ripe acorns as she glimpsed the forest floor. Early summer gave her freedom. It meant full branches and plenty of cover, not that many humans dared entered the woods, haunted by stories of evil magic well over a decade past.
Movement caught the edge of her hearing. She crouched down to swing onto a lower branch; it was second nature to make sure her dress hem didn't snag on a twig. Gripping a sturdy leaf stem with one hand, she leaned out to peer between f
arther trees.
There, she saw a familiar figure approaching. The human boy had dark, tousled curls and wore a fine blue tunic. When he paused, his bright blue eyes scanned the branches above him before he gave up and continued on.
She climbed back up before she could be spotted, another breeze masking the faint rustle of her movements. Watching him closely, she reached over and plucked an acorn from a nearby twig. A smile grew on her face as the human boy strode closer and closer. Once he was positioned directly below her, she let the acorn drop.
It bounced off his shoulder, prompting a gasp of alarm that sent a couple birds fluttering from their branches. He looked up with a frown that threatened to waver into a smile, rubbing his shoulder.
"Avie!" he groaned.
She swung onto the lower branch, grinning playfully. "Don't tell me that hurt?"
He folded his arms over his chest. "I thought you had a kingdom to run."
"I'm never too busy to surprise my little brother," Avie answered, her grin positively impish.
The boy's chest puffed slightly. "Not so little anymore. Today's my—"
"Nameday. I know, Maison. You've only been gabbing about it for weeks."
The boy grew pink in the cheeks as she laughed, a fond look in her eyes. He'd only been fourteen for a matter of hours, and she could already see the beginnings of a square jaw within his round face. How quickly time had seemed to pass for him.
"I wish you could come to the feast," he said, the indignance in his frown wilting. "It's been ages since you've come to visit."
Aveline hopped onto the branch of a neighboring tree with leaves that hung barely a foot over Maison's head. Finding a lower perch, she smiled sadly at him. The unfairness of it all had lost its sting for her over the years, dulling to a quiet though constant pain.
"Having more people around than usual is the worst time for me to go," she reminded him. "Cheer up. I'm glad you could escape your gaggles of admirers on your day to come for a visit yourself."
"I promised I would, didn't I?" he said proudly, stepping closer to offer his hand. Every move he made was careful, practiced—the way Aveline's had been in another life. "I can't stay for long."
Try as she might to stop teasing him, her grin widened as she dropped down onto his palm. "Yes, of course," she said importantly. "Can't forget that you woke today as a prestigious person, with a full schedule."
Maison's fingers twitched in reply to her slight weight, and flattened out as he brought his hand back down before his face.
"I'll have to ride in front of everyone today," he said, ignoring the jab. "All of Mirrel, and Mother and Father. Even some from the eastern villages have come to see! I'll have to show off my craft and give a speech..."
Aveline's teasing smile softened. "You're nervous."
"Weren't you, when you came of age?"
Avie glanced down at herself. Her dress, a rich green piece belted off across her middle, fluttered out around her tanned legs in the spring air.
"I was crowned much earlier than you'll be," she reminded him.
This didn't settle his nerves. "What if I fall off my horse?" Maison insisted.
"Then I suppose you'll get a little muddy." She smiled, reaching over to rub the pad of his thumb. "You've nothing to fear, little brother. I promise."
"Sure, you promise," he fretted. "But that won't stop me from—"
"Maison, if you fall off your horse, I'll trip on the hem of my wedding gown next year—on purpose, right in front of everyone. If you're so sure something will go wrong today, then at least you'll have something to look forward to."
She finally managed to get a laugh out of him, eyes glinting. "Well, I don't want you to trip, either!"
"Then don't fall off your horse," she said simply, then gestured at the forest gently rustling around them. "Why don't we walk for a bit? Clear your head instead of worrying over every little thing."
Maison seemed to agree, bobbing his head with a soft little sigh. Aveline held to his thumb as he paced under the canopies of green, his eyes cast up as they walked. He was right to watch the trees. Her guards were never far from her, least of all beyond the glamour's edge. Every so often, there was a glint of wings lit by a stray beam of light, winking at them on the path below. She nodded pleasantly at each of them, knowing their faces and names as well as she knew her own family.
They were nearly to the creek when one of the fairies dropped down from above, startling Maison mid-step.
The fairy doubled over, chortling to himself. "Sorry, little Prince. Didn't mean to put a twist in your trousers."
"It's alright, Virgil," Maison said with a shaky laugh. "Apparently everyone wants to scare me on my nameday." He gave Avie a pointed look at this, his grin toothy and lopsided.
"I think that's good luck, isn't it?" Virgil waggled his eyebrows at the prince, and then Aveline. He was still messy from laboring. She always thought he looked particularly handsome after a hard day of cutting sapwood. There was a gleam to his skin, a roughness to his hands.
She shook off her distracted thoughts and beckoned him in closer. Virgil glided down level with Maison's hands, leaning over curled fingers to give her a peck on the lips. "Are you going with him, then?" he asked.
Before Aveline could so much as open her mouth, Maison sucked in an excited gulp of air. "Yes! See, you should come today!"
"What, just because Virgil is as crazy as you?" Aveline threw Virgil a narrow-eyed look, which he answered with an overly innocent shrug.
"It was just a question," he said. "And a perfectly valid one, mind you. It's not every day your brother turns fourteen."
Maison nodded readily at this, fixing his pleading blue eyes onto Avie.
"He said himself there will be many visitors," she argued, stepping back on Maison's palm pointedly to avoid Virgil's hand trying to take hers. "I've made no arrangements with Mother and Father, and it would mean bringing guards while the Mirrel grounds are crowded, putting more fairies at risk of—"
"I'll take you myself," Virgil said simply. "A bit of glamour, and no one will know we're there. Either way, everyone will be too busy watching the little prince's spectacular performance."
"Please, Avie," Maison said, looking even more flustered than before.
When she didn't answer immediately, Virgil pressed, "Don't pretend your mother and father won't be thrilled to bits to see you."
She shot him a stern look for this, but she couldn't hold it long. He was right, of course. She softened immeasurably as she looked up at Maison's round, beseeching eyes.
"I suppose, if it really means so much to you…"
Maison cut her off with a gleeful shout, smiling ear to ear. The fairies flinched, prompting him to adjust his voice back to a careful volume at once. "You won't be sorry."
Aveline kissed her fingertips and pressed them into the pad of his thumb. "Well, obviously."
The three of them turned as one, the sound of celebration and labor stirring some half a mile out. Reminded of what awaited him, Maison's face twisted with a note of apology.
"I should be going. They'll notice I'm gone soon. I'll see you after?"
She nodded. "In the usual place."
Virgil flew lower to gather her into his arms, bridal style. Her arms slid around his neck, letting her weight settle against his strong chest in a familiar way. She was flightless in a kingdom of fairies, but she hardly felt the absence of wings these days. He was her wings.
While Maison's steps crunched out of earshot, Virgil hovered in place to steal a more passionate kiss from her.
"It's hardly been a day," Aveline giggled between kisses. "You can't have missed me?"
"Not everyone gets to kiss the queen," Virgil said, pulling back to brush his nose against hers. "I intend to take full advantage."
She grinned and shook her head. "Surely not? After all, you've just gone and invited yourself to a nameday celebration. I don't think you want to be the one to tell Maison we were sidetracked from the whole
affair because you wanted to snog."
Chuckling, Virgil stole one last kiss before starting their flight through the trees. "You don't suppose there's time for me to head back and change into something nicer?" he muttered ruefully.
"Whatever for?" She smirked at him in bemusement. "It isn't as if anyone's going to see you! If they did, the last thing on their mind would be what you're wearing."
"That's easy to say when you're in a fine gown," he pointed out, his usual boyish smile taking on a self-conscious strain. "Surely I'm going to see your parents, aren't I? What will they think?"
"Don't be silly. They adore you no matter what."
The reassurance eased the slight frown from his face, and he dropped the matter. Avie's eyes traveled to the higher branches, where she caught glimpses of guards following along, loyal and watchful as ever. Before long, she and Virgil began entertaining each other with comfortable chatter. It wasn't until she glimpsed the massive structure of the human-made wall that it came back to her fully where they were headed.
"Perhaps I should have alerted Lord Brennan I was taking you," Virgil mumbled to himself. A frown pulled between his eyes.
Avie tittered, more intent on watching the scenery whizz by in a blur. "He practically raised me. He tends to know where I am before I even arrive. Virgil, really, stop worrying so much."
"I'm not worried!"
"You are."
Virgil gave a great huff and with that, finally lowered down to land on the top edge of the courtyard wall.
The Mirrel palace was nearly a familiar sight as her own, but it never ceased to stir butterflies in her stomach from the sheer, dizzying size of it. She squinted through a gust of wind, looking from tower to tower and down at the gathering in the courtyard. Almost immediately, she spotted her father in crowd. His deep blue cloak stood out brightly in the throng of grey and greens.
"Do you ever miss it?" Virgil's voice was gentle in her ear.
Aveline dismounted from his arms, staying close to avoid subjecting herself to the breeze.
"How could I?" she said, eyes still fixed below. "I was only a child when I changed. I can hardly remember my first life." Aveline blinked and smiled, letting Virgil see the love in her eyes as she looked to him. "Besides… I might've never met you otherwise. I couldn't bear that. Not for anything in the world."
