She walks closer to an oak tree and extends a hand to touch its magick. It barely prickles. A shattered feeling fills her chest; Croi places the palm of her hand on her chest and presses. It hurts.

Do you think the dryad will be able to locate the HeartStone?

“Didn’t we not care?” Croi thinks to her other self.

Perhaps we do. Just a little bit.

“Here.” The princess hands Croi a lacy cloth, triangular with string ties on both sides. Croi takes it and looks askance at her.

“Put it over your face,” she says.

“Why? Does my ugliness hurt your sensibilities?” It hurts hers. Thankfully, Croi doesn’t have to look at herself all the time.

The princess rolls her eyes and refuses to answer.

Croi glares at the veil but puts it on in the end. It hides her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes visible to the world. Tinder flies over to sit on her shoulder, but she doesn’t say a word, and neither does Croi as they follow the princess and the beastie through the forest. Gradually the trees thin, and the princess stops abruptly. Croi peers from behind her to see what the problem is. Considering her luck, Croi wouldn’t be surprised if there are swords involved. However, all she sees are three female fae, half hidden in the gloom of the forest. Two of them have uncovered their faces while one is veiled like her. They are wearing dresses in varying shades of red, and the two with faces visible are beautiful. It seems that to be fae, one must be beautiful.

“Wait here,” the princess tells them tersely, and, pulling her beastie along, she walks over to where the fae maids are standing.

“Do you know them?” Croi whispers to Tinder, who is a warm weight on her shoulder.

“They are Ceara’s handmaids,” Tinder replies.

“All of them?” They’re very well dressed for servants.

“Yes, they were handpicked from the Tine nobility to serve the Tine princess.”

“Do pixies have handmaids too?” Croi can’t understand such a custom where one fully capable person needs to be served by another person. Kin, after all, are not humans who need whole hosts of servants to do their daily work.

“The pixies do not believe in such servitude,” Tinder answers haughtily, and Croi nods sagely. The pixies have once again demonstrated their excellence. She decides that she, too, doesn’t believe in such customs.

“Fiadh!” The princess beckons Croi over, giving her no more time to think. The trio of fae maids look at Croi and Tinder with expressions ranging from curiosity to suspicion. Their eyes linger on Croi for long moments, and she stares back at them defiantly. They turn away first.

“You all have met Tinder. This is… Fiadh.”

The hesitation is accompanied by a look Croi ignores.

“These are my companions, Caoimhe, Aislin, and Fiona.” Caoimhe has a long face with red-ringed amber eyes and orange skin, while Aislin’s features are delicate apart from her lips, which are generous, and hint at a tendency to curve. Fiona’s green-ringed brown eyes are sharp, piercing, and entirely out of place.