“Hey!” Tinder tugs Croi’s ear again.

“Ow!” Croi hisses. “What is it?”

“It’s time to go!” While Croi was looking at Irial and conversing with her other self, the Robber Queen and the Tine King have exchanged greetings. What their actual conversation was, Croi doesn’t know. She’s a bit regretful that she didn’t think to eavesdrop.

She takes one last look at Irial, who is gazing at the Tine kin with a disappointed look on his face, before she’s herded, along with the rest of the Tine envoy, to a circular pavilion in the grounds, away from the largest building of the Caisleán, which is home to the Talamh royal family; a roofed corridor connects the pavilion to this building.

The Talamh attendants leave the Tine party at the door, their courtesy showing that everything in the pavilion, despite being in the Talamh kingdom, falls under the purview of the Tine guests. Before they leave, the wood nymph and her tree are given over to their custody, and they promise to locate a group of wood nymphs with whom she can make a home.

Croi follows the Fire Princess and her handmaids through the wooden doors of the pavilion and comes to a standstill, her eyes widening to take in the vista inside. No matter how many times she sees it, she is always stunned by the liberties fae take with space. The inside of the pavilion is a hundred times larger than the exterior of the building suggests. It has five floors; the first is for the soldiers and the animals, the second has the kitchens and rooms for the servant kin, the third one is for the Tine nobles who have accompanied the king, the fourth is for the princess and her attendants, and the fifth for the Tine King and his attendants. Though, Croi notes, the Tine King doesn’t seem to have too many personal attendants around.

Croi pities the servant kin who work in the kitchens. Perhaps they can magick the cooked food from the second floor to the tables on the upper floors. She hands over Enbarr’s reins to a horse goblin and follows the other handmaids up to the fourth floor. Accompanying them are the princess, Tinder, Monca, Lorcan, and, of course, Aodh.

The living quarters on the fourth floor consist of five bedrooms and one large central living room that is furnished with chairs and low tables, all made of wood. Lorcan moves from room to room, with Croi following him, unable to suppress her curiosity. The rooms are spacious, with large windows, open to allow the green in. Thick rugs soften the hardness of the stone floors, and leaves appear intermittently to remind the inhabitants that the trees composing this pavilion are still alive, still growing. There are no flowers, but once again, the air is redolent with the fragrance of roses.

Croi is enamored by the Caisleán. She touches the walls that boast blue stones in one part and are living wood in others. The floor in the parts not covered by rugs is a mosaic of patterns, shifting and changing, earth one minute and stone the next. Trees bend themselves to provide canopies for birds; tapestries on the walls give color to wars fought a long time ago; windows open up to balconies that look over gardens where the Talamh kin are making merry. Were it not for the weak and dying magick here, Croi could almost believe the idyllic scenery before them.