The next morning, my aunt remains quiet over breakfast, eating her porridge without attempting to engage in conversation with either of us. Twice, Nia asks if she’s all right and twice her mother claims that she is only tired after the festival. When a heavy knock rattles the front door, Aunt Cordelia slips from her chair while Nia and I follow her out into the foyer to where a young man waits with an armful of fliers clutched to his chest.

He hands my aunt a page from the top of the stack, and then retreats down the steps, through the gate, and over to the neighbor’s house.

Nia leans over her mother’s shoulder for a peek. “What does it say?”

“The king has called a meeting today at noon. All households are required to attend.”

“Does this happen often?” I ask.

Both Nia and her mother shake their heads.

A niggling feeling grows in my stomach. Something must be wrong. Why else would the king want to speak to us?

By the time we arrive to the meeting, the city square is already filled with whispering fae, all of them speculating over the reason for us being called together. Some think the king is going to announce a new holiday. Others believe this has to do with last night’s unexpected guests.

“Do you think this has to do with the Unseelie?” I whisper to Nia.

She nods. “Definitely.”

What could the king say? The Unseelie arrived on a Wednesday, as was their right. It wasn’t their fault that we happened to be holding a festival at the same time.

Speaking of the festival, the decorations have yet to be removed. Colorful ribbons still dance in the air, clinging to the forgotten Maypoles.

A wooden platform has been erected in front of the library, where the king and queen sit on their thrones. Ronan has a chair to his mother’s right. The golden crown on his head gleams in the sunlight. When our gazes meet, his eyes narrow and his hands ball into fists in his lap.

I curse the moment I met the man. If not for him, my time here in Rosehill would’ve gone very differently.

Ivee, Florence, and Aurelia appear on our right, too busy tittering with one another to notice Nia and me. Trevor stands in front of the library doors along with a few other staff members I recognize.

When the king stands and clears his throat, a hush falls over the crowd. “Thank you all for joining us on such short notice,” he says. “I’m afraid the news today is quite grave. It would seem as though our neighbors have been shirking their duty.”

A man in plain brown cotton trousers and a grubby tunic climbs the stairs to the platform. In his arms, he cradles a small goat with ivory fur.