Chapter 5

The moon was beginning its descent from the night sky when Tamisin dreamed of Jak. He looked much the way he had when she saw him last: his thick black hair tousled and his deep blue eyes darkened with worry as he tried to figure out why she was avoiding him. She felt herself turn away as he swore that he would never stop loving her.

After a time the dream-Jak faded away, and a cloud of fairies dressed in flower colors replaced him. In this part of her dream, Tamisin flew with the fairies, darting over wildflowers and racing across a rainbow. She was enjoying the dream until her bed began to sway and she rose from the depths of sleep. Opening her eyes for an instant, she saw Oberon hovering over her, but it still seemed like part of the dream. Her eyes drifted shut, and she was lingering on the edge of sleep when Oberon dripped flower-scented nectar onto her eyelids, whispering about fatherhood and that she was his daughter who wanted to live at his court and never leave. As she drifted off to sleep again, she felt the nectar and dreamed that someone had kissed her eyelids. The sensation combined with Oberon’s words to make her feel warm and loved. Tamisin snuggled deeper under the covers.

Less than a minute later a sturdy figure climbed up the tree trunk and crept along the branch. Tamisin was still dreaming as the blue boy whispered that he was her one true love, and that she was to forget the boy named Jak. When Tamisin rolled over, the boy backed off the branch and down the trunk of the tree, leaving her to a confused dream that made her feel restless and uneasy.

She woke when a tiny bird flitting from branch to branch just above her sang to its neighbors with a warbling trill. Tamisin had a feeling that something had changed, although she didn’t know what it might be.

She couldn’t wait to spend the day with Oberon and explore his forest. Wiping a strange stickiness from her eyelids, she smiled, delighted that Mountain Ash and Oberon had brought her here. She’d been sure that her biological father was dead, but he wasn’t at all, and now she could actually get to know him! Tamisin’s heart felt light until it occurred to her that Titania had lied. Who knew what other lies her mother had told her?

This thought made Tamisin angry, souring her good mood. She sat up and looked around. The side of the bed was high enough that she couldn’t have rolled out if she’d wanted to, which was good, because when she peered over the edge, she saw that the bed appeared to be about ten feet above the forest floor. It had been dark when she’d finally climbed into it, and she had been so tired that she hadn’t even tried to see what was around her.

“Good morning!” called a voice, and Tamisin peered over the edge again. Dasras was there, tossing an apple in the air with one hand. “I brought you some breakfast,” he said.

Tamisin’s heartbeat quickened and her breath caught in her throat. She ducked out of sight long enough to comb her hair with her fingers and straighten her rumpled shift. “I’ll be right down,” she called as she opened her wings. Noticing Dasras’s admiring gaze as she fluttered to the ground, she blushed, suddenly self-conscious.

“You have beautiful wings,” he told her, his gaze as warm as a caress.

“Thank you for saying so,” she said, feeling her face flush even redder. Twitching the muscles in her back, she folded her wings and tucked them into the creases between her shoulder blades, aware that Dasras was watching. She’d put them away in front of her parents and . . . someone else she couldn’t quite remember, but no one had ever watched her with such intensity before. “And thank you for the apple,” she added, taking it from his outstretched hand. Their fingers touched for an instant, and an electric tingle traveled through her arm.

Tamisin glanced up and their eyes met. She swayed toward him, as if drawn by an invisible string, then blinked, shook her head, and stepped back. What was she doing? she wondered. She’d just met Dasras the day before!

Dasras smiled and her heart seemed to flutter. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

Tamisin nodded. “I did, although I had the strangest dreams. I dreamed that . . .” A sudden sharp pain in her foot made her wince and look down. She had shifted her feet when she was talking and stepped on a stone. Although many of the fairies had bare feet, Tamisin didn’t think she would be able to walk very far that way.

“Do you know where I can get some shoes?” she asked Dasras, gingerly setting her foot on a patch of bare ground.

“We’ll go see the cobbler,” said Dasras. “He’s only a brownie, but he’s very good at his trade.”

The look Dasras gave her made Tamisin’s cheeks flush again, and she turned away, not sure what to think. He was very attractive and she had the strangest feeling that he was the one for her, but she didn’t know why she would feel so strongly so quickly. After all, it hadn’t been until she’d gotten to know . . . Tamisin frowned. She was sure that she used to be crazy about someone, but she couldn’t remember whom.

“Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?” Dasras asked.

“Of course,” she said, and glanced down at the fruit in her hand. Humans had to eat more than just fruit, didn’t they? But if both of her parents were fairies, then she was a fairy, too. Tamisin shrugged and took a big bite of the apple. She was just used to eating more; she’d be fine once she’d been there some time.

“Is something wrong?” Dasras asked.

He looked worried about her, which Tamisin thought was sweet. She gave him her brightest smile and said, “Not at all.”

“We should go see the cobbler now. I have a long list of places I want to show you, but you won’t get far if you’re used to wearing shoes.”

Tamisin’s eyes lit up. “Is he down by the shore? I’d like to see the ocean again.”

“Brownies don’t go to the shore,” said Dasras with a wave of his hand. “They live on the other side of the briars with the rest of the servants. That’s where we’re going now. It’s just down the hill from the glade where you talked to Oberon yesterday.”

“The brownies are servants?” she said, joining him as he began to walk.

“Of course.” Dasras gave her a quizzical look. “They aren’t fairies, are they?”

“You mean they’re servants simply because they aren’t fairies?”

“Fairies are the highest class of the fey. Anyone else should be honored to serve them. I know all this is new to you, but everyone . . . Oh, look. There’s Buttercup. Let me introduce you.”

Buttercup had bouncy blond curls and wore a short dress made of yellow flower petals. Pale green slippers with curved toes covered her tiny feet, and tights the same shade of green covered her legs. She was carrying a woven basket filled with buttercups and seemed to be in a hurry. When Dasras called to her, she turned, her curls bobbing around her shoulders, her blue eyes wide in surprise.

“Dasras! How are you today? And is this the princess? Imagine meeting you here!” Buttercup giggled. “I’m taking these buttercups to Narlayna. I picked them this morning after the dew settled. They’re still wet. See!” Plucking a handful of blossoms from the basket, she shook them in Tamisin’s face, showering her with droplets. “My gown is about to wilt and Narlayna is making me a new one. Don’t you just hate it when your gown wilts? It looks so bad, and everyone thinks you can’t take care of your flowers if the petals you’re actually wearing dry out.”

“Uh, sure,” said Tamisin. “That would be awful.” It occurred to her that she really didn’t know much about being a fairy. She certainly didn’t know anything about wilting clothes.

“Oh, dear. Would you look at the time!” Buttercup said, peering through the branches at the sun. “I’m running late. I should have inspected two meadows by now. See you later!” The fairy ran off, leaving a trail of buttercups behind her.

“She seemed . . . nice,” said Tamisin.

“I thought you would like her,” said Dasras.

They were approaching a stream when a tall, orange-haired fairy wearing an orange gown dotted with black stepped between two thickets. Her expression was sour, and she didn’t seem nearly as lighthearted.

“Hello, Lily,” Dasras said without much enthusiasm.

“Dasras,” she said, acknowledging him with a curt nod. She glanced at Tamisin, and for a fraction of a second Tamisin thought she saw a flash of contempt in the fairy’s eyes. “Princess,” said Lily before turning back to Dasras. “Are you going to the other side of the briars?”

The blue boy nodded. “We’re on our way to see Malcolm about shoes for the princess.”

“If you’re going there anyway, you can take these to Narlayna,” Lily said, holding up a small bouquet of orange tiger lilies. “Tell her to drop whatever she’s doing and start this right away. I need a new cap by tonight. I’ve been away, and my old cap was ruined in a thunderstorm.”

“Actually, we—” Dasras began.

“Lily!” called a voice, and a male fairy appeared behind her. “What’s taking so long? You know we have to . . . Well, well, what have we here?”

“Dasras seems to be giving the princess a tour,” Lily said in a tone that implied she had just tasted something bad. “They’re taking my flowers to Narlayna.”

“We never said—” Dasras began.

“The princess! We’ve heard so much about you!” The male fairy snatched the pointed green cap from his head and flourished it even as he bowed. “My friends have neglected to introduce me, so I’ll gladly claim the task. I’m Hawthorne,” he said, grinning up at Tamisin.

Lily thrust her bouquet at Dasras. “Here! We have to go.”

Dasras fumbled and nearly dropped the bouquet. Lily gave him a scornful glance before returning back through the thicket.

Tamisin watched until all she could see of the fairies was the tip of Hawthorne’s cap bobbing above the greenery. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“Shh!” Dasras said softly, holding his finger in front of his lips.

“So,” they could hear Lily saying to Hawthorne, “what did you think of her?”

“She’s a bit chunky for a fairy, but who am I to say who’s a full-blood these days?” said Hawthorne. “There’s no denying she’s Titania’s brat, but as for the rest . . .”

“Oberon will believe what he wants to believe, and there’s nothing you or I can say to change that,” Lily said, her voice dwindling with distance. “Once he learned that Titania had a daughter, he was convinced that the girl was his child.”

Hawthorne’s reply was too faint to make out. Tamisin turned to Dasras, who was glaring at the lilies in his hand. “Why do I get the feeling that she doesn’t like me?” she asked. “We’ve never even met before.”

Dasras shrugged. “A lot of the fairies in Oberon’s court don’t think you belong here. Some don’t believe that you’re really his daughter; others think you might be, but that you’ve aligned yourself with Titania and have come here to spy for her. Fairies are a very distrustful lot, even of their own kind.”

“At least they aren’t all as rude as Lily.”

“I’d like to say that Lily is the worst of them, but she isn’t. At least she’s open about the way she feels. Fairies like Hawthorne, on the other hand, will be nice to your face, then stab you in the back if they get a chance. Ah, here we are,” Dasras said as he stopped at the edge of a stream. “Let me help you.”

Tamisin took his hand and followed him across the water, setting her feet on the large, flat stones that made a path from one side to the other. His hand felt cool and dry, so unlike another hand she remembered holding. That other hand had warmed her own and felt so right that for a time she’d held it as often as she could. And the owner of the hand . . . If only she could remember!

When she looked up, Tamisin saw that they were in a large, well-kept meadow. A tall, thin nymph dressed in fluttering leaves tended to the aspen trees growing alongside the stream. Fairies sat in groups among the wildflowers, talking among themselves until Dasras and Tamisin came close. The fairies grew silent then, and Tamisin could feel their eyes on her as she passed by.

In the center of the meadow, small flower fairies were playing with a dandelion puff, tossing it back and forth between them so deftly that it maintained its fluffy shape no matter how hard they hit it. Dasras and Tamisin skirted the little group, heading for a massive hedge that defined the back of the meadow. As they drew closer, Tamisin saw that it was made completely of briars and was so tall that she couldn’t have reached the top even if she’d stood on tiptoe. The wall looked impenetrable from a distance, but Dasras led her directly to a narrow gap in the briars that she didn’t see until she was close enough to touch the prickly plants.

“The servants live on the other side of this hedge,” Dasras said, stepping into the gap. “Some of them do their work there, and the others have to go back after their work is completed in the fairy side of the forest. There’s a curfew at night; they can get in real trouble if they aren’t on their side after the curfew.”

The hedge was about ten feet thick. Here and there Tamisin could see scraps of fabric and broken twigs where passersby had been unable to avoid the thorns. “Why didn’t we fly over this?” she asked, pushing aside a twig.

Dasras glanced back at her. “You could have, but I don’t have wings,” he said as if it wasn’t important. There was an almost imperceptible catch in his voice, however, and suddenly Tamisin understood why he’d looked at her wings the way he had earlier that morning. He hadn’t been admiring them as much as wishing he had some of his own.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he wasn’t a fairy. He was blue, which meant that he wasn’t a human, so she’d just assumed that he was a fairy, too. “I didn’t mean . . .”

“Narlayna’s cave is just through those trees,” he said as she stepped out of the briars.

Tamisin stopped to look around, surprised at the differences between this forest and the one on the fairies’ side. The other forest had been well groomed, whereas this one had been left in its natural state. Trees grew closer together here, their branches interlaced as they competed for sunlight. Ferns peeped between broken branches that lay uncollected on the ground. Vines grew up the trunks, wrapping themselves around the branches and weighing down the smaller ones. Instead of smelling like masses of flowers, this forest smelled of damp earth and old tree trunks crumbling into decay on the forest floor. It was wild. It was messy. It was exactly the way a forest should be.

“We’ll drop Lily’s flowers off with Narlayna first,” Dasras explained, “then go see Malcolm about your shoes. Don’t be afraid when you see Narlayna. She’s an ogress, but she won’t hurt you.”

“I’ve met ogresses before,” said Tamisin. “There are some at Titania’s court.”

“Hunh” was all Dasras said, but from the look he gave her, Tamisin had the feeling that he didn’t want to hear about the fairy queen or her court.

Although the paths weren’t lined with smooth pebbles or soft moss as on the other side, enough people had passed through the forest that they had trodden well-defined paths into the forest floor. Tamisin followed Dasras down one such path through a grove of pine trees to a cave set in the side of a hill.

Two large pine trees guarded the path to Narlayna’s cave, and they had to go around them to see into the entrance itself. The tall trees cast wide shadows, but just beyond the cool shade the front of the cave was bathed in sunlight, making a cozy spot for the ogress to do her work. They found Narlayna sitting on a stump, her hands flying as she plucked cherry blossoms from a basket to assemble a delicate skirt that looked like flowers floating on a breeze.

Narlayna rubbed her nose with the back of her fingers before raising her head, revealing red eyes and puffy lids. Tamisin thought that she wasn’t the least bit frightening. The ogress had brown shoulder-length hair that was blond at the ends, and dark brown eyes that might have looked friendly if she hadn’t been so obviously upset. She did have one eyebrow that extended over both eyes, and a few long hairs sprouting from a mole on her cheek, but they weren’t anything a good pair of tweezers couldn’t fix. If the ogress hadn’t been one and a half times the size of a human woman, she might have looked like someone Tamisin could have run across at the mall.

“Lily wants you to make these into a cap for her. She says you’re to drop everything and have it ready by tonight,” said Dasras, tossing the flowers onto the ogress’s lap.

Narlayna’s gaze grew hard and cold. “She says that, does she?” she snarled. “Well, you tell her that I’ll get to it in my own sweet time! I have two dozen orders before hers, and everyone says theirs is important.”

Dasras looked horrified. “I’m not telling her that!”

The ogress sighed. “ ’Course you aren’t. Though it’s about time someone did. I’ll get to the cap when I can. Just tell her . . . Never mind. No need to tell her anything. She’ll get it when she gets it, that’s all.”

Dasras stomped away, his back rigid with anger, but Tamisin lingered behind. She felt as if she should apologize for Dasras’s rude behavior, and for the unthinking demands of the fairy, and for the way they both seemed to treat the ogress. But she didn’t know how to begin, so when Narlayna looked up and snapped, “What do you want?” Tamisin said, “I just wanted to say that you do lovely work,” and ran off.

Dasras was waiting for her on the path, looking as if he had something to say, but before Tamisin reached him, a tiny fairy flew down to whisper something in his ear and darted away again.

“I have to go,” Dasras told her, his eyes alight with excitement. “Oberon wants me to attend him. He often has me run errands for him or listen when he has a problem to work out. He knows that I can be discreet, unlike most of the fairies here. You’ll have to see Malcolm on your own now. Just follow that path and you’ll find him.”

Tamisin looked where Dasras had pointed and saw the beginning of a faint trail. She had just started toward the path when a flash of red darted past, drawing her gaze after it. It was a cardinal that disappeared into the briars with the barest shiver of leaves. When Tamisin turned around again, she took one step and stopped. The path Dasras had pointed out had ended abruptly.

“He must have meant a different one,” she said out loud, and looked about until she spotted another only a few yards on. This path was smoother than the first and easier on her bare feet. It was a meandering route that took her past a gnome carving a chunk of wood who glowered at her when she stopped to see what he was making. A little farther on, a pair of bird-goblin girls were sorting two huge baskets of seeds. They looked up at her approach and turned their backs on her when she smiled at them.

She soon came upon three nymphs standing up to their waists in a small pond scrubbing laundry. “Hello!” called the youngest as Tamisin paused to watch.

“Shh!” said an older nymph. “You’re not supposed to talk to them unless they talk to you.”

“Why?” asked the young nymph.

“Yes, why?” Tamisin asked.

The two older nymphs looked shocked, but the younger one seemed interested. “Because fairies don’t like talking to us if they don’t have to,” said the nymph whose hair was the darkest green.

“Why is that?” asked Tamisin. The younger nymph turned to her friends as if she, too, were waiting to hear their answer.

“I don’t know,” said one of the older nymphs.

The other shrugged, saying, “It’s always been that way.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” said Tamisin. “You can talk to me whenever you want.”

“I’d like that!” said the youngest nymph. Tilting her head to the side, she gave Tamisin an appraising look. “I’ve never seen you before. Why are you here? No one comes here unless they have a reason.”

“I’m on my way to see Malcolm the brownie. I’m going to ask him to make me some shoes.”

“Ooh, shoes!” said the youngest nymph. “I wish I could have some shoes.”

One of the other nymphs snorted with laughter. “What would you do with shoes? You never get out of the water!”

“You’re going in the wrong direction if you want to see Malcolm. The brownies live back that way,” said the oldest nymph, pointing at a right angle to Tamisin’s path. “Someone should have come with you to take you there. If you keep going on this path, you’ll end up in the Land of Forgetfulness and wander there forever.”

“Someone was with me, but he was called away. Is there anyone around who can take me to see Malcolm now?” asked Tamisin.

“I can help you,” said the youngest nymph. Dipping her hands into the water, she scooped some out and began to shape it into a ball. The water behaved sort of like snow, keeping its shape as the nymph hurled the ball in the direction of Malcolm’s home. The ball flew a few yards over the forest floor and stopped almost as if it were waiting.

“Follow the ball. It will take you all the way to Malcolm’s house, but you have to hurry,” said the nymph. “The water will start leaking soon, and then it will be gone before you know it.”

“Thank you!” said Tamisin. “You’ve been very helpful.”

All three nymphs grinned up at her. “You’re very welcome,” said one.

“Come back and visit us again,” said another.

The third just blew her a kiss and waved.

Tamisin was pleased to have a guide, but following the ball wasn’t going to be easy. Instead of taking a path, it was going straight through the forest, flying over tree stumps and across a wide gully. Tamisin glanced down at her bare feet, then back at the wild roses growing beside the path. “I am so not doing this,” she declared. Shrugging, she released her wings and stretched them behind her.

“Ooh!” she heard the youngest nymph say as Tamisin took to the air.

Following the ball was faster now, and she was glad she was using her wings when she saw the depth of the gully and the jagged rocks at the bottom. She enjoyed darting around trees and over brush that she normally wouldn’t have gone near, and in less than a minute the dripping ball had stopped in front of a squat little cottage with a door no higher than her knees.

Tamisin looked around as she landed, but there was no one there to ask if she had indeed reached the right place. When she bent down and rapped on the door with her knuckles, someone inside the house groaned. Loud footsteps tapped across the floor, then wood scraped on wood. Tamisin stepped back when the door swung open, revealing a little man dressed in shades of brown squinting up at her.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Are you Malcolm the brownie?”

The little man rolled his eyes. “Who else would I be, I’d like to know. Look at me,” he said, stepping out of the gloom of his house into the sunlight. Not only were his long-sleeved shirt and trousers brown but so were his fringed boots, his curly hair, his well-trimmed beard, and his deep-set eyes. Tamisin tried not to stare at the hair on the tips of his pointed ears.

“I guess you like the color brown,” said Tamisin.

“What? You think I’m called a brownie because I like brown? Does that mean I’d be called a greenie if I were wearing green? No, it does not! I meant look at my size, you big oaf!” he shouted, stamping his foot. “Brownies are little, like me! Oh, I give up. Go away and come back when you’ve grown a brain.”

The little man stomped back to his door and had one foot over the threshold when Tamisin asked, “If you won’t make me some shoes, could you at least recommend someone who can?”

The brownie stopped as if he’d been hit with a brick. “Did you say shoes?” he asked without turning around.

“I’m not used to going without them,” she said, and held up a bare foot. It was scraped and dirty, and her skin was pale from lack of sun, but at least she’d put on pretty pink nail polish a few days before.

The brownie turned around slowly. His mouth was quivering and he had a glazed look on his face. “Shoes,” he breathed and lowered his eyes to her still raised foot. “You want shoes for these?”

Tamisin nodded, then realized he wasn’t looking at her face. “That’s right. I was told that you could make them for me. That is, if you’re Malcolm the brownie.”

“Of course I’m Malcolm,” the brownie snapped, coming out of his daze. “Have a seat on that stump. I’ll be right back.”

Tamisin glanced behind her and found a stump beside the path. The top was smooth and the sides had been carved with pictures of shoes. There were pointy-toed shoes and curly-toed shoes, high-heeled shoes and flat-heeled shoes, shoes with ribbons and shoes with buckles, thigh-high boots and light, strappy sandals. Tamisin walked around the stump, examining it from all sides. “Wow!” she said, spotting some delicate slippers with vines for laces that wound up the wearer’s legs. “I want those, please!” she said as the little man came out of his house, carrying a basket nearly as big as himself.

“First things first!” he said, setting his basket beside the stump. “Sit down so I can measure your feet.” He waited as she took a seat on the stump, tilting his head from side to side as he studied her foot. Then he picked it up and rubbed the dirt off her heel. “Nice foot! Very nice, indeed. I like them big like this, although I’ve never seen a fairy with such big feet before. And you’ve obviously used them for walking. Most fairies would rather fly than walk, which is why their shoes last so long.”

“Do you make many shoes?” asked Tamisin.

“I used to,” the brownie said, sounding wistful. “Before I came here, my shoes were always in demand. I made shoes for every being with feet who wanted to look stylish, but I got so good that Oberon decided I should work only for his court.”

“But if they don’t have enough work to keep you busy . . .”

Malcolm snorted. “There are two sides to every coin. The fairies want the best shoes for themselves, and they want to keep other beings from having them. You’ll never meet a fairy who doesn’t think of himself first. They’re the most selfish creatures I’ve ever . . . Uh, sorry! I forgot for a moment that you’re a fairy. Your feet . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Tamisin said. “I’m not offended. And from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely right.”

The brownie gave her an odd look before reaching into his basket. Taking out a knotted string, he held it up to her foot. When the string was too short, he reached into his basket for another that was three times as long. “That’s better,” he said, pulling the string taut from her toes to her heel. “Are you sure you don’t have ogre blood in you?”

“Not as far as I know,” Tamisin replied, watching as he wrote something on a leaf he’d taken from the basket.

“Huh,” he said, and sat back on his haunches. “I can make you the shoes you picked out, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a pair like mine?” He held up his own booted foot and waggled it at her, making the fringe flop back and forth.

“No, thanks,” Tamisin said, moving her feet out of his reach. “How long do you think it will take you to make them?”

“Not long,” he said.

“Tamisin!” a faint voice called.

Although Tamisin couldn’t see anyone, she recognized the voice as Dasras’s. If she took to the air, she could probably find him easily enough. She glanced at the brownie again, saying, “Do you have all the measurements you need?” When he nodded, she stood and spread her wings behind her. “In that case, I should go. Someone is looking for me. Thank you for the shoes.”

Malcolm frowned. “Your name is Tamisin? But isn’t that the name of . . . Oh, my! You’re the one who’s supposed to be Oberon’s daughter?” He looked at her foot again, and his frown deepened.

“That’s right,” Tamisin said. “How much will I owe you?”

“Owe me? Why, nothing. The fairies here never pay me for their shoes. It’s how I serve the fairy king. Why do you ask?”

“Where I come from, people pay a lot for shoes. Especially ones as nicely made as those,” she said, indicating his boots.

“Really?” he asked, his pointed ears pricking up with interest. “And where is that?”

“The human world,” she said, and took to the air as his eyes grew big and round.