Green, blue, mottled, striped, the skin of each fae was entirely unique and dizzying, and though they were each human-enough in appearance, there were hints beyond a shock of violet hair or an arm covered in white speckles that these creatures were far removed from Amma. They moved about with little to no concern for the space around them, as if already at home, and greeted Wil as if there had not been, what he had said, an eternity of silence preceding the meeting.
But then the one called Rosi turned to where Amma and Damien and Kaz had sequestered themselves, her golden eyes flickering. “Oh, you have some human visitors, Wil?”
The Winter King swallowed, a nervousness shimmering over his icy features. “Ah, yes, you know how it is. They fall in sometimes and if you do not take care of them, they die, and then things get complicated with the veil and everything.”
“Of course, we have a few of our own as well.” Rosi gestured over her shoulder, and a pair of nervous-looking young men poked out from the crowd of fae, significantly shorter than the rest. At that, Amma exhaled and pressed a hand to her chest, and things felt as though they might actually go smoothly.
There were thirty-nine fae, by Amma’s count, plus two humans that came in with the Spring Court, each given thick cloaks by the conjured waddlers in colors and styles that enhanced their unique appearances. Amma could not speak, only watch, trying to take it all in, until her eye was caught by a specific fae who was laughing brightly at how one of the flippered birds was chasing a rogue butterfly. She had deeply brown skin and long, soft waves the color of dawn at its pinkest.
But a cool breeze blew through the tunnel, stealing Amma’s attention. The petals left along the floor dried out, turning crispy as their colors faded and a shadow formed at the tunnel’s end. A pack of red foxes barreled into the throne room, kicking up the petals, and they caught with warm licks of fire before burning away, filling the air with a smoky, charred scent. The Autumn Court had arrived, forty-five in total, carrying in the colors of fallen leaves and the twilit sky.
The throne room should have been too crowded, but it appeared to expand, and Amma and Damien pushed themselves further back to keep to the wall as the fae greeted one another, but then a fae calling herself Retta with a very generous chest and the most cheerful laughter Amma had ever heard insisted they mingle, pressing slices of hot, fresh bread into their hands, and they were swept into the crowd.
It was all going quite well then, until it wasn’t. There was a flash of heat, and the tunnel shimmered so brightly Amma thought some arcane blast would ruin them all, but the ice only ate away at itself, melting so that the entrance widened even larger and the floor became a pool. Over the water, silhouetted by the blinding light at his back, a fae rode in on a long, slick board, arms out and bare-chested. His tan skin and well-built physique glittered as the light at his back faded, and he twisted to come to a halt in the throne room, water cutting up before him and splashing outward in a huge wall toward the others.
King Wil was there, and he threw an arm out, freezing the wave before it crashed down over the rest of them, saving the other fae as they gasped in a horror Amma could not decipher from genuine surprise. Surely they could have all done something about it to save themselves, but they each traded looks, some thrilled, others shocked, and there was a voice just behind Amma, deep and feminine, that simply said, “That would be Norm.”
The Emperor of the Summer Court peeked out from around the frozen wall with a grin of white teeth, none of them pointed but glaringly bright against his cinnamon skin. Golden hair flowed down his back, and his body was muscled, adorned with ink in various shades to create patterns rather than clothes. He met Wil as his wave crumbled in tiny flecks of ice, and the two kings met. Behind Norm, there was a large contingency of fae, many of them adorned in bright colors, but there were others who Amma could tell had once belonged to the Winter Court. When Amma counted, Norm and his courtiers were fifty-seven strong. The fae stared at one another, and then Norm offered his hand. They clasped wrists, and just as quickly Wil whirled back to the rest of them, announcing that the festivities would begin.
Amma had thought she would have time to rest then, maybe even getting a few quiet moments with Damien, but Wil insisted on making her his assistant. Together, they demonstrated for the others how to pack the perfect snowball, how to lay in a bank and wiggle about to make a snow dragon, how to best sit before sledding down a hill. It all felt incredibly elementary, and Amma had to bite back laughter each time a fae asked if they were doing something correctly, as if there were a right way to have fun. Hours passed in a flurry of frigid activities that wore on Amma much sooner than any of the fae, but eventually the entire contingency retired to the ballroom to gather around many popping fires and long tables of foods laden with fat and spices.
The Autumn Tsarina, a made-up title if Amma ever heard one, was a fae with hair like a maple’s leaves and pupilless eyes. She had whisked Damien off to fawn over him with a few other fae dressed in black cloaks while some of the Summer Court were cheering for Kaz as he toasted various foods with his tail. Amma had finally taken a seat at one of the tables across from a pair of identical, pale fae with satiny, black hair and spoke in tandem but were apparently from different courts. The two introduced themselves to Amma with the names Ontsumn and Omenbanca, and when she stared back, alarmed they had given her the “true names” Damien had spoken of causing madness and not the simple names the rest of the fae had, they laughed in unison and explained that, “our other names were taken,” though it wasn’t really an explanation at all.
Beside Amma, a warm body took a seat, and she straightened. The pink-haired fae who she had made eye contact with when the Spring Court had arrived leaned and elbow languidly on the table, resting her head on her hand and staring right at Amma, waiting. Being near her made Amma’s pulse quicken, but when she glanced over, her easy smile sparked relaxation deep in Amma’s bones.
Lifting a hand, skin dark and rich like soil, a sprout grew up out of her palm, and from the new bloom’s center a bubble formed. It expanded, taking on an odd shape until there was a tiny pop and it detached, the stem beneath withering away into nothing, and a glass figure dropped into the fae’s hand. She offered it to her.
“Don’t worry,” she said, voice like the rustling of wind through the trees, “you’re not in trouble. Promise.”
Amma’s eyes flicked to the figurine, identical to the pieces on King Wil’s game board and filled with a shimmering, golden goo, and then back up at to fae.
“You’re meant to take it.”
“I-I can’t play,” said Amma, her own voice hoarse and cracking, “I don’t have the magic.”
She chuckled lowly. “Not to play with.”
“What do I do with it?” Amma tipped her head, bringing her nose close to the piece, vaguely human shaped but without features.
“I’m not sure, Tertius just says you can’t leave without it.” She pointed with her other hand to a fae who was laughing at another table, skin blue and a divot in the middle of his forehead. “He doesn’t really know why because he’s given away almost all of his powers, but when he tells us something, it’s only when he’s almost completely certain.”
Amma reached out, and when she picked up the piece, its innards sloshed, starry speckles riding the waves of gold inside. “I feel like I’m not supposed to have this.”
“Don’t worry, if anyone should have it besides me, it’s you, but Tertius says you won’t have to watch over it for very long. Keep it close to your heart for now.”
Amma’s reflection in the glass stared back at her, and then she swallowed hard and tucked it into the neck of her dress.
“Mind if I borrow her, Rea?” King Wil appeared over the fae woman’s shoulder, and she flashed Amma another comforting smile before flitting away.
Amma was relieved when the Winter King led her out of the ballroom and into the courtyard, the space quiet even with the large doors open between them and the party. She took a deep breath of cool, fresh air, steam swirling before her as she let it out. Snow speckled the dark sky as it fell, a very fine dusting of white over the stone benches and glossy leaves of holly bushes that circled the yard.
“I must express my deepest gratitude, Amma,” said the fae king, gesturing to her with the slightest bow. “I have, for too long, languished in these halls, wandering them with nary but my own good company, but you have resolved the ache in my chest without even knowing it.”
Amma’s brows shot up, and she plastered on a smile, all teeth and restrained giggles. “Oh, I did? I had no idea you felt that way.” Thankfully, sarcasm was completely lost on the fae.
Will touched his chest with those too-long fingers. “I owe you our agreed upon debt.”
“Safe passage,” she said quickly, thrilled that her end of the bargain appeared to be fulfilled, “for me and Damien and Kaz. We need to get back to Eiren.”
