Titania
PORTIA 
All day long, curious shape-shifters had been seeking out Portia’s company, quizzing her about her world, doing her hair and making her try on different garments as if she was one of Meralyn’s mannequins. Now she sat on a bench in the corner of the sewing room, waiting for someone to take her to Titania’s celebration. Everyone seemed to have left her alone for a while, and Portia was glad of it—she was so nervous by now that she wouldn’t have been able to talk about anything. She was relieved when Peaseblossom finally burst into the room. At least she wouldn’t be getting pushed around by Cobweb again.
“Look at you!” Peaseblossom said cheerfully. “All spruced up. With, hmm, leggings! Interesting choice.”
Portia raised an eyebrow. Rather leggings than the flimsy, flowy sequined nightgown Peaseblossom was wearing. The fairy’s hairdo was even weirder than the day before—piled up high, and braided with a jumble of twigs, feathers, velvet ribbons, and borage blossoms. It looked as if she was wearing a bird’s nest on her head.
Portia’s outfit was quite simple in comparison; the brown leggings Meralyn had found for her reached just below her knees. The seamstress had also given her a white shirt and a cobalt-blue waistcoat with a cornflower pattern to go with it. The shirt was a bit longer than the waistcoat, hanging down to her hips.
Portia resisted the urge to smooth her clothes. She had hidden the key in the inside pocket of the waistcoat, and was hoping its shape didn’t show through the fabric. She had decided she wouldn’t play her trump card until she had made her deal with the Fairy Queen. She dried her damp hands on the leggings and trusted that no one would notice how nervous she really was.
Peaseblossom twirled around once before offering Portia her hand. “Shall we?”
Outside Fairy Hill, it was already dark, but the clearing was bathed in silvery moonlight. Peaseblossom led Portia across the foxglove field to a cluster of oak trees. A flight of stairs made of roots led down into a brightly lit hollow, where a lake awaited them, as flat and clear as a mirror. Oak trees lined the shore, lanterns hanging from their branches. More lights had been placed on moss-covered rocks, and bowls filled with whirling moon-moths floated on the lake’s surface.
Titania’s royal household had gathered by the shore. Portia saw fairies in shimmering garments, with pinned-up hair and floral corsages. Among them, small groups of shape-shifters gathered here and there: fluffy-eared squirrels and short, stocky men with black stripes on their faces. As she descended the stairs to the hollow, Portia passed a young man with a pair of antlers growing from his head. The delicate sound of little bells and harps was coming from somewhere, but the crowd’s murmur almost drowned out the music completely.
Peaseblossom guided her straight to Moon Lake. Wooden platforms drifted close to the shore, like big lily pads. More fairies were standing on the platforms, and pale ivory-haired girls swam in the water below.
All eyes were on Portia. She felt as if she were on display. At the same time, she couldn’t help but stare back—the assembly of Otherworldly creatures was just too beautiful and peculiar. As she reached the lake shore, a fat toad with iridescent dragonfly wings buzzed right past her face.
No one will ever believe any of this, she thought.
A narrow footbridge led straight out over the lake to a crescent-shaped platform, in front of the dark hillock of an island, where Titania was holding court.
Portia slowed, but Peaseblossom waved her eagerly onward. “Chop, chop! Let’s not keep Her Majesty waiting!”
Her Majesty, Portia thought, her blood running cold.
Titania sat on a throne of woven branches. Leaves, mushrooms, and frilly ferns all sprouted from the tangled wood. The branches of an oak tree growing on the island formed a canopy above the Fairy Queen.
Titania looked nothing like the harmless young woman Portia had met the day before. She sat bolt upright on her throne, staring at Portia with her silver eyes. The bodice of her dress clung to her upper body, and a cascade of shimmering flowers flowed from her shoulder to her feet. A stripe of cobalt-blue paint stretched from temple to temple across Titania’s face, highlighting the unnatural glow of her eyes. On her head sat a crown of peeled willow-tree branches, and her long hair hung down to her shoulders. Instead of flowers, glittering dewdrops decorated her hair and crown.
Portia approached the platform with trembling knees. What had she gotten herself into?
Cobweb stood at Titania’s left side. On the queen’s other side was a rotund fairy man in a long robe dyed in shades of blue—presumably this was Pricklethorn, the Lord Chamberlain.
“Curtsy!” Peaseblossom hissed in a low voice.
“What?”
“Curtsy!” she repeated, before bobbing respectfully before the queen. Portia tried her best to copy her.
“Portia Humanchild.” Titania’s voice echoed across the lake. She raised her hand and beckoned Portia to come closer. Her fingertips had been dipped in silver-blue paint.
Portia walked up to the throne, trying hard to ignore Cobweb’s stony expression. Titania was smiling at least, although her smile seemed a bit cold and formal. “Welcome to the dance of the fairies. Do you like it?”
At first Portia couldn’t speak. She swallowed before managing to choke out a few words. “Yes, very much. Your Majesty.”
“If I remember correctly, there were two of you. Where’s your companion?” asked Titania.
There was no turning back now. Portia could only hope that Ben and Gwil had put some distance between themselves and Fairy Hill by now.
“Ben is on his way to the World’s End,” she said. “He wants to help Rose, so he’s gone to find out whether it’s possible to bring someone back from the fog.”
Portia stood stiffly, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her throat. Any moment now, Titania would surely explode in anger and have Portia thrown into the dungeons. But instead, the Fairy Queen raised her hand and let a moon-moth land on a fingertip.
“Surely the boy has not gone all by himself,” she said. “Who’s showing him the way?”
“It’s Gwil Glumheart,” Cobweb cut in. “It was he who brought the humans to your court in the first place.”
“Is that true?” Titania asked.
Portia nodded. There was no sense in denying it, but she felt a wave of heat rising from her neck to her face. Far too late, she was realizing that she had underestimated the danger to Gwil and Meralyn. Even if Titania never found out about Merron’s book, the salamanders had still acted without permission. What would Titania do? Punish Meralyn and Gwil for treason?
“So Glumheart has left the Hill.” Titania turned to the Lord Chamberlain. “Did you grant permission?”
Pricklethorn lowered his head, his face bright red. “Yes, my queen.”
“Interesting.” Titania flicked the moon-moth from her fingertip. She gazed thoughtfully at Portia. “You and the boy are clearly rather fond of Viola Rosethorn.”
Her tone was friendly, but still Portia felt a bead of sweat running down her back. “She’s my aunt,” she replied. “And she saved our lives. Please, Your Majesty. I know everyone’s saying we can’t help her. But we’ve got to try at least.”
Titania settled back on her throne. “I do understand, child,” she said. “Everyone who remembers the Gray King’s last attack knows what it feels like to lose someone to the fog. And if there’s an answer to your questions anywhere, then it’s at World’s End. There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. How do you plan on reaching Rose, since the key is with her, in the Borderlands?”
It felt as if the key was burning a hole in Portia’s pocket. She really did want to tell the truth, but now that she had the chance, she didn’t dare.
“Are you hoping that Rose is still herself enough to be able to open the door to our world?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Could it be that you haven’t told me the whole truth?” Titania asked. “Perhaps my Cobweb was not mistaken, after all, and she did see the key in your hand?”
Portia looked up, her face ablaze with fear, but Titania was smiling, and this time her smile seemed warm. “I thought as much,” she said. “And I understand that you wanted to be careful. You didn’t know me and couldn’t have known how I would treat you. As I remember, humans are fond of telling stories about cunning fairies and their tricks.”
Portia lowered her head, and at long last the knot in her chest loosened. “We shouldn’t have lied, Your Majesty. I’m sorry.”
Titania nodded. “I do hope you understand me as well,” she said. “My folk have suffered greatly at the hands of the Gray King’s army. And the World Key poses a great risk. Especially if it is used several times in a short period. But I also understand that you want to help Rose. And I’m sure you want to go home.”
It seemed as if all Portia’s worries had been for nothing. “Yes,” she said, feeling so grateful, she would have liked to hug Titania.
“How would you feel about a deal?” Titania asked. “I’ll agree to help you. And when you have the key again, you’ll hand it over to me, and I’ll keep it safe.”
Did Titania think the key was still hidden somewhere? That would have been a good idea, actually. She could hear Ben’s warning in her head: In stories, humans always end up losing when they make deals with fairies. Titania’s offer sounded straightforward, but it was better to play it safe. She tried to sound as confident as possible. “If I agree, will you allow Gwil and Ben to finish their mission? And there won’t be any punishment, either?”
Titania raised an eyebrow. “Punishment,” she repeated, glancing at Pricklethorn, who looked increasingly pale. “Very well. I agree. I’ll allow them to do what they need to do. You have my word.”
Portia hesitated for a moment, but then she took a step forward, holding her head high. “Then I accept the deal.”
Titania clapped her hands. “Wonderful,” she said. “Then let’s set the seal on our agreement. Pricklethorn?”
The Lord Chamberlain reached inside his robe and handed Titania a silver bracelet. “This bracelet shall be my pledge,” she said solemnly. “I hereby swear to get you home safely.” She leaned forward and held the bracelet out to Portia. Portia took it, and Pricklethorn gestured for her to put it on her wrist.
Titania smiled again. “Your turn now. Will you reveal where you’re hiding the key?”
Portia pulled the key out of her waistcoat pocket. Pricklethorn drew in a sharp breath, but Titania remained calm.
“As promised.” Portia held the key up, and Titania took it nonchalantly. Then with a thin smile, she leaned back in her throne, twirling the key between her sparkling blue fingertips. “Such a tiny thing,” she mused, “and yet it does so much harm. Cobweb!”
“Your Majesty.”
“Make sure that the human child is taken home.”
Portia frowned. “Right away?” she asked, taken aback.
“But of course,” said Titania, in a friendly voice.
“Don’t we need to get ready first?” Portia asked. “I don’t know… gather provisions? Get together a troop of warriors, or something?”
“You’ll hardly need provisions. It’s not far to the servants’ quarters.”
“What?” Portia stared blankly at Titania. “I thought you were going to take me home.”
“And that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Titania smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in her expression. “Bryngolau is your home now, human child.”
Portia felt an icy chill run through her. “You promised to help me!”
“Oh, yes,” Titania agreed. “I’ll help you find your place in my world. I’ll help you survive here. Instead of imprisoning you in a cloven oak tree, as anyone who is a threat to my people deserves.” She leaned forward. “Did you truly believe I’d let you open the doors?” she hissed. “Never again will I allow any human to put my people in danger.”
“But… I didn’t mean to…,” Portia stammered.
“You didn’t mean to what? Lead the Gray King right to my door? Lie to me?” She sat bolt upright on her throne, glaring down at Portia. “You did well to ask for forgiveness for your human friend and the salamander. I wasn’t expecting that. Too bad you didn’t ask the same for yourself.”
Portia backed away, but Cobweb was standing close behind her and grabbed her by the arm and held her with an iron grip. Portia stared about her wildly, desperately looking for someone to help her. She saw Peaseblossom gaping at her, wide-eyed, her hands pressed to her mouth.
“You tried to betray me, and thereby you broke my laws,” Titania roared. “From now on, you’ll work off your debt as my servant in my service. Caethiwa!” The final word rang out like a bird’s cry.
The last syllable had barely left Titania’s lips when a blazing pain burned into Portia’s wrist. She screamed in shock and jerked her arm up. The bracelet that Titania had given her began to smoke, and then melt on her skin like mercury. It burned. Oh, it burned so much! Portia watched aghast as the silver sank into her skin, leaving behind a smoking band around her wrist. Her eyes filled with tears, and she fell to her knees. She clasped her wrist with the other hand, but the mark that the bracelet had burnt into her skin couldn’t be wiped away.
Titania slipped from her throne and strode past her to the edge of the platform. Through the blur of her tears, Portia saw she was holding the key between her fingertips.
“No!” she croaked.
“Get used to kneeling before your queen,” Titania said, and threw the key into the lake.