The fairies looked at each other. “Stupid humans,” said Ember. “They can’t shine.”
“What do we get if we win?” Sparks asked.
Oliver thought. “All my secrets,” he said soberly. “Every last one.”
The fairies clapped, creating a rain of glitter. “Me first,” Glint sang, and she shimmied so that a halo of silver light rose from around her body. The forest lit, six tree trunks deep, before fading into darkness again.
“Amateur,” Ember scoffed. She spun in a tight circle, holding her wings out like helicopter blades, and a warm bronze glow enveloped the area where Oliver was standing. Like that of the fairy before her, the circle of light grew and grew, this time ten trees deep, before snuffing itself out.
“Watch and learn, girls,” Sparks said. She curled tightly into a ball, growing so small she was only a pinprick, and then with a sudden pop let loose a corona of golden light.
The glow was fiercer, hotter, wider—but quicker to fade to black.
“Your turn,” Glint said, raising one arched silver brow.
“Wait. If I win,” Oliver replied, “I want safe passage.”
The fairies, blinking intermittently now, whispered to each other. “Safe passage,” they agreed.
Oliver reached into Socks’s saddlebags and took out the packed lunch that the royal cook had given him before he left.Inside were two hard-boiled eggs, some cheese, and a hunk of bread. There was also a tiny drawstring bag of seasoning.
Loosening the string, Oliver gently blew across the small heap of pepper, so that it created a cloud around the fairies.
Glint, Sparks, and Ember sneezed in unison, and as they did, flashes of light burst like fireworks to illuminate the whole of the Enchanted Forest.
“Well,” Oliver said, swinging himself back into the saddle. “I think it’s clear that I—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Socks let out an enormous sneeze too. He reared on his hind legs, inadvertently pawing at Glint, who then nipped him in self-defense.
Once again, Oliver held on for dear life as his runaway stallion bolted into the Enchanted Forest. Finally, they broke through the thick foliage, just in time for Oliver to notice that they were approaching a cliff. At an alarming pace.
“Whoa!”he cried, yanking on the reins.
There was six feet of ground remaining before the cliff edge. Three feet. One. Miraculously, Socks halted abruptly at the edge. “Thank goodness,” Oliver said.
Apparently, he spoke too soon.
Because although Socks stopped, Oliver didn’t. He tumbled over the horse’s head, past the edge of the cliff, and into the roiling ocean below.
