“I don’t feel too well. Can’t I take a nap instead?”

The brownie sniffs haughtily. “No one refuses the king’s summons, child. That is the first lesson you should have learned.” She walks to the door and pulls it open before looking at Croi over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Hurry up and follow me!”

Croi puts on the veil with a sigh. Clutching her pack tightly, she follows the brownie through a myriad of corridors. The magick used to increase the space inside the pavilion runs underneath her feet in thin orange strands. The floor is covered with a carpet and feels firm, like wood. The inside of the entire pavilion has been woven by magick, yet the outside is, Croi’s sure, made of some kind of canvas. How do these fae play so easily with space?

She looks at Monca as they walk, wanting to ask her many things. Like, how does it feel to be a true brownie? If she knew, maybe she could quantify her loss, but she doesn’t know what to say. How does she translate this void inside her into words? What tone does she use to present them to the brownie? Can one question contain her entire query, and if not, what parts of “who I was” are the most important and should be included?

In the end, Croi asks nothing and follows her quietly into the dining room. A large chandelier hanging from the ceiling gives the room a golden glow. Croi glimpses Tinder sitting next to the Fire Princess’s plate on a table in the center of the room. She sees Croi and nods. Croi knows they’re playing parts here; Tinder is the honored visitor and Croi, the inconsequential servant. The princess sits on one side of the Tine King and Lorcan on the other.

A chair remains empty beside the princess, possibly for the brownie. Other Tine kin sit at the table besides these four, but they’re thrown into shadow by the king.

“Take your place,” the brownie says. Croi notices Caoimhe and Aislin standing at attention behind the princess’s chair.

“We don’t get to eat?” This is crueler than if they’d just lashed her with a whip. How is she supposed to endure watching food that she can’t eat pass right in front of her? Croi looks at the brownie with wounded eyes.

“Servant kin eat later,” the brownie says, and pushes her farther into the room. Croi is tempted to turn on her heels and go, tempted to take her chances with the unfriendly forest, but the slight warmth emanating from Uaine’s SoulSeed makes her stay. So she grits her teeth and takes a place behind the princess’s chair, but not before she sends a glare her way. The princess doesn’t look at Croi, nor does she give any indication that she has even noticed her, but the Tine King does. He gives her an indecipherable look before turning back to his conversation with Lorcan.

Then the torture begins.