By the time she was supposed to go out riding with Count Alain and the rest of the court, she was eager to be in the woods, surrounded by the comforting scents of damp earth and fallen leaves. Yet she wondered if she should cancel the outing. Somewhere in her lands, a boy was missing, and while it was entirely possible that he was riding a stolen horse to another town, she couldn’t stop thinking of his family’s pleas for her to believe better of him.

But she reminded herself that being a ruler meant not becoming distracted by every problem in her kingdom. She needed to go on the ride, because if she could show her court the beauty of the Moors, they might yield on the treaty.

It wasn’t easy to focus on the bigger picture, but she had to try.

Marjory talked her into changing her kirtle, and she put on a heavier one of deepest green with an embroidery of vines around the throat. With it, Aurora pulled on warm stockings, riding boots, and a woolen cloak trimmed in wide ribbons.

Marjory also rebraided her hair into a series of plaits that crisscrossed in the back, like the ribbons of a corset. Then, finally, Aurora was racing down to the stables, cloak flying behind her.

But just as she arrived at the stall where her dappled gray horse, Nettle, waited, she heard a familiar buzzing behind her.

Knotgrass, Thistlewit, and Flittle flew into the stables, obviously out of breath. Although the pixies had worn human guises for most of her childhood, they didn’t bother with those now and went almost everywhere carried on their small colorful wings.

“Oh, good, we caught you in time,” said Flittle, tugging on her bluebell-shaped hat.

“What’s the matter, Aunties?” Aurora asked, alarmed.

“You shouldn’t run like that,” scolded Knotgrass, wheezing a little. “Elegant ladies do not hurtle through their castles!”

“Nor do they scowl,” said Flittle at Aurora’s expression.

“And must you ride such a fierce-looking animal?” asked Thistlewit. “It just doesn’t seem safe. Isn’t there a nice rabbit that could carry you? A silky, gentle rabbit. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“She’s too big for a rabbit,” said Flittle.

“I could make one larger,” said Thistlewit, “or shrink Aurora. Wouldn’t you like to be a bit smaller, my darling?”

Aurora, knowing their magic was erratic at the best of times, shook her head vehemently. “I like myself just the size I am. And I like rabbits just the size they are, too. Now, what is it that you’ve come to talk to me about?”

“Oh, just a very little thing,” said Flittle. “Sometimes your subjects come to us to ask about your preferences. Because of our closeness to you. Why, we think of ourselves as your most trusted counselors, and I am sure you would agree.”