One
Until the monsters came, I lived in a provincial village in the dullest shadow of the kingdom. The small cottages in Stonehaven hunched together as far as possible from the capital, as far as possible from the Fae who ruled us and the dragon shifters who saved us.
Perhaps I was as dull as my village. I’d never gone over the mountains that surround our cluster of farms.
And perhaps that was for the best, as Humbridge, owner of The Tilted Stone and my ever-regretful boss, claimed I could barely find my way out of the kitchen.
I’d been in the midst of serving in the pub when I caught a glimpse out the arched window of children playing in the field. My little sister’s shining golden hair was at the center of a knot of kids, and I started to smile as I set down another round of beers.
She was not supposed to be here—Tay should’ve been watching her—but I didn’t have the heart to spoil her fun. She was more popular than I’d ever been, as well she should be. My mother teased me sometimes that I’d been prickly even in the womb, elbowing her spitefully if she dared to eat anything spicy, and my disposition had not improved upon discovering how disappointing I found the world.
Some of the children chased each other with ripped linen wings streaming from their backs, playing Dragon Trials. Others were monsters in handmade headdresses of feathers and horns.
As I watched, one of them fell into the soft grass, pretending to die with dramatic flair, and I grinned to myself.
“Girl,” a testy and all-too-familiar voice called to me.Herret.“Are you ever going to refill our mugs?”
I hustled back to the bar to get more flagons. The Tilted Stone was filled with the usual late afternoon crowd, the scent of slightly ripe bodies from the day’s work mixing with the smell of fresh-baked bread, long-simmered stew, and the stale beer that had sunk into every stone crevice over three hundred years.
I ignored Herret’s dramatic sigh as I made my way to Galin’s table with his tankard. His shoulders looked broader than the last time I saw him, and he offered me the smile that had warmed me for a season. His eyes were almost the same walnut brown as my sister’s and brother’s, cozy and familiar.
“Do you still prefer the dark ale?” I asked, holding the flagon rather than handing it directly to him, in case he didn’t want it.
“Mytastes don’t change, darling.”
I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to just settle down and be satisfied. Maybe if Tay were well, I wouldn’t feel so restless.
Galin and I’d had fun. He had an eager mouth and eager hands, but it was the eagerness that had brought him here today that made me nervous. He wanted more than I could give.
“Enjoy your drink, then,” I told him, setting it down.
He didn’t try to hide his disappointment that I was already turning to go, but his murmured thanks followed me.
I didn’t bother to listen to Herret’s grousing as I poured his fresh mug. Instead, as I glanced out the window again, I could still see Lidi playing.
This time, she was surrounded by the ring of children, and it looked like pure innocent delight. Then the picture changed in an instant: she was fleeing them, her face contorted with fear.
Some of the children were laughing, their small teeth flashingin their cruel little faces. Others grabbed after her, catching her and pulling her back into the circle.
Herret looked up at me with his lap full of beer; his tone rose steadily as he tripped through his question. “Have you ever considered changing your occupation toanything fucking else?”
Humbridge waved his bar towel at me and tried to say something, but I wasn’t a good listener at the best of times. I flung open the door, rolled my ankle on the uneven cobblestone path, and hobbled at a run anyway across the flower-speckled meadow.
The knot of children didn’t notice me, and neither did Lidi, who was at their center.
Flowers woven into her hair sparkled with magic. The other children were ripping the flowers out. They floated in the air, buoyed upward by the breeze, along with long blond wisps of Lidi’s hair.
She was trying to fight them, and little tendrils of green wove from the ground, crawling up their ankles and legs. They stopped and screeched, trying to shake them off.
I waded into them, scattering small bodies like ten-pins in my rush to get to her.
I caught her up in my arms, holding her up above the chaos like the cat I’d once rescued from dogs. The children tried to run away, but the greenery she’d grown clung to their legs, and they jerked and tripped.
“Are you hurt?” I asked Lidi, smoothing her hair—and her flower crown—as if I could undo the last few minutes.
Wide, tear-filled eyes met mine. “I looked like a Fae princess! I had flowers woven in my hair, and they hated it!”
My heart felt heavy as I sighed. “They hate a lot of things. What are you doing here, Lidi? Where’s Tay?”
