“I have eleven sisters,” Tinder says mournfully. “Do you know how awful life is when you have that many siblings?”

Life is even worse when you don’t have any.

“You’re lucky. You have so many people who love you,” Croi says, keeping a tight hold on the reins. “I have no family. No one loves me.”

At that moment, the Tine King glances back. Croi turns her face, determinedly not meeting his eyes.

“Do I sound pitiful?” she whispers to the pixie, who is quiet on her shoulder. “More importantly, Lorcan attacked me last night.”

“What?” the pixie shrieks, garnering attention. She flushes and lowers her voice. “Why?”

“As revenge for what I did to the princess in the Redcaps’ camp. He kept on asking me who I am.” Croi pulls up the long sleeve of the dress she’s wearing. The places where the flames cut their way in are puckered red and angry. They hurt, but the pain is negligible.

Tinder’s magick turns red when she sees Croi’s wounds. Without saying another word, she flies over to the Fire Princess.

They continue on their way. Though the forest gets denser as they travel uphill toward the center of Talamh where the Caisleán lies, the road they’re on is well kept. No obstacles, magickal or otherwise, block their way. There are things hidden in the underbrush. Things that don’t show themselves. Muted sounds of roaring animals and other beasts reach them, and for once, Croi is glad to be surrounded by soldiers. The scenery is peaceful and wouldn’t be worth commenting on were it not for the increasing lassitude in the magick.

“What happens when we reach the Caisleán?” Croi asks Tinder, who flew back with a grim look on her face.

“I believe they will enact the Welcome of the Three,” Tinder replies.

“Who are the Three?”

Tinder gasps. “How can you not know the legend of the Three? They were the most influential figures in kin history!”

“Tell me,” Croi says.

Tinder clears her throat and sits down in her favorite position on Croi’s shoulder.

One soft silence later, she begins.

“The legend of the Three is so old that the lines between make-believe and truth have been blurred. It is up to the listener to decide whether the legend is fact, fiction, or a mix between the two.” Tinder glances at Croi and deepens her voice. “The books say they came to life at the same time that Talamh did. That the green of the forests owe their verdant nature to the glory of the dryads. The books also say that when Fionar the First and her company separated the Otherworld into the four elemental kingdoms, she gave to Talamh not just the strength of magick but also the Guardian dryads, the only ones of their kind.”

“The books say quite a bit,” Croi comments, and gets a pinch for her efforts. “Why did Talamh get the Guardians but the other kingdoms didn’t?”

“Talamh is the largest kingdom and, more importantly, where magick originates. If Talamh falls, all other kingdoms will be affected. Is my answer sufficient?” Tinder glares.