“That mark on your arm. How did you get it?”
Confused, I furrow my brow and give her a questioning look. “It’s a birthmark.”
Zaria lets out a sigh and massages her temples. A long tense moment passes, and her hair shifts again as she tilts her head, catching the light just so. I step closer, squinting. I see her hair move again and two tiny bright orbs stare at me.
I gasp, and Zaria’s eyes snap up to meet mine.
“You have someone in your hair!” I exclaim, pointing.
Zaria’s tail whips back and forth behind her and she reaches up, holding out her hand. I watch in complete fascination as a tiny shape appears. The fairy is only the size of my little finger. Eyes that are mesmerizing, one a piercing blue and the other a vibrant green. Her tiny frame is draped in a brown dress that matches the color of Zaria’s hair, and her light brown skin glows in the light.The tiny fairy gracefully steps on to Zaria’s hand and she brings it to her chest, holding it in front of her.
“This is Asrai. She is a Willowroot fairy.”
Asrai gathers her long brown hair over her shoulder as she blinks those unique eyes at me.
I step closer and lower my voice. “Hi, I’m Everly.”
Asrai peeks up at Zaria, who smiles warmly at her, reassuring her. When she faces me again, Zaria holds her out to me. Slowly, I hold my hand out until our fingertips touch. Asrai steps to my hand and curtsies, then signs her name to me.
With my free hand, I sign back.Nice to meet you.
“You know Willowroot?” Zaria asks.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Willowroots don’t speak. They use hand signals as a way of communicating. No one knows their language, not even I.”
I shrug as Asrai beams at me and unfolds a beautiful set of butterfly-like wings from her back. The colors are a mixture of blues and greens, just as vibrant as her eyes.
“You're absolutely beautiful,” I whisper in awe.
Asrai blushes and signs,Thank you,before she lifts from my palm and flies back up to Zaria’s head, and sits down. Now that I know she’s there, I don't know how I missed her in the first place.
“Look, back to your birthmark.”
I freeze, trepidation making me shuffle nervously on my feet. “What about it?”
“It’s the mark of the druid royal bloodline.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “You're joking, right?”
“Notat all.”
I laugh, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. “No, that’s silly. It’s just a birthmark. An odd discoloration, anyone can have one, it doesn't mean anything.”
“It’s not. The Druids were all hunted and killed twenty years ago. The King and Queen fell, but their daughter was never found. Everyone assumes she died, but what if . . . ”
I chuckle at the seriousness in her voice. “Zaria, I’m not some lost princess. Believe me.”
“But it would explain how you were able to cross through the gate.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Even if you’re not the druid princess, you must conceal your mark. The consequences of the queen or the wrong person discovering it would be fatal. All druid sympathizers were captured and exiled to the desolate outlands. Those who remain are now in hiding or have joined the Outcasts in the forest.”
I swallow roughly, the sensation of unease settling in my stomach. “You can’t be serious.”
“Completely.”
