‘I’ll stay away for now,’ I whisper, closing my eyes and seeing flashes of monstrous teeth and claws.

When I open my eyes, she’s gone. I stand up and dig my hands into my pocket and draw out the golden acorn. It’s almost identical to my own silver one. I bring the chain out from under my shirt and hold them side by side. There’s a twist in the air, and they snap together. The gold one disappears, and when I hold the silver one up to the light, I can see new gold strands, a fine lace of them at the top of the acorn.

‘Well look at that!’ Peg whistles. ‘Your mother’s acorn – how did you find it?’

‘I think it found me,’ I say in a whisper. ‘I got tripped up by a tree – my father’s oak – and . . . there it was on the ground. I didn’t know it was out there to find. Did you know it was out there, Peg? Why didn’t you say anything? What does it mean?’

‘Couldn’t. Not my place. And what would you have done, anyway? It came to you when the time was right, as these things do. You’re only just big enough to discover these things now.’

‘I’ve been bigger than you for years!’

‘That’s on the outside,’ he sniffs. ‘I’m talking about the inside.’

The Troll

Glitter-skinned and solid as the oak in form and quiet determination, the troll is a peaceful creature, known for its wisdom more than for its fight. It has strong, powerful wings, but it rarely uses them, for the motion causes great upheaval. In dire circumstances, however, there is no better creature to have on your side. The troll is a cunning strategist and not afraid to use all that he has, if only the cause is great enough.

Mr Flint, with his sweeping, glittering wings, is in a temper, his eyes glowing like coals. In fae ethics, everyone gets very intense about fae politics and the situation in the forest, and I try to keep my head down, but today’s lesson seems to be mostly about instilling fear, and Mr Flint is very good at that.

‘You are here to learn how to assimilate yourselves, not because it’s a party out there in the human world . . .’ He catches a couple of the kids chatting and raises his voice. ‘But because your own world is a battleground. So you will learn to assimilate. You will learn to hide your magic with your glamour. And you will go out there, and you will make a difference!’

‘And leave our families in Winterspell?’ Tash demands. ‘And do what? I don’t want to assimilate. There is nothing I need from the human world!’ She flashes her silver teeth.

‘Silly girl,’ he growls. ‘You need to survive. You need to learn how their world works so that you can help your family, and everybody who will remain in the forest. You have a choice! Not all do. The centaurs, the goblins, many of my troll brethren – they do not have the ability to glamour. They need the forest to remain. You must help to influence others in that vein.’