CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Just before sunrise, Sabrina found herself on the roof.

Sleep had been elusive, forcing her to waste hours in dark imaginings, so she'd eventually given up altogether, gotten dressed and begun wandering around the palace, exploring the hallways and little alcoves decked out in curlicues and gorgeous fretwork. No one had said she couldn't, she rationalized, and besides, it was good sneaking practice. She'd picked route after route and followed them to see where they'd led, and one of them had taken her up a spiral staircase and through a narrow archway which opened up to a sky just beginning to turn pink and gold.

She'd stared, mesmerized, at Faerie as she'd never seen it before - acres of wild and beautiful terrain set against hazy mountains. Spires of smoke and clusters of lights in distant villages and towns hinted at families beginning their day, of entire communities coming to life with the morning sun. Six years ago when she'd visited Faerie with her sister and grandmother, when Puck had still been its prodigal prince, she'd thought it was a meager office fronted by a shady pub and helmed by a rogue that was more mafia godfather than king. She'd never even guessed that it might extend beyond its painted walls, let alone that it could be far bigger than Central Park, or New York City, or any of the mortal facades that concealed it from human eyes.

So she'd never comprehended why Puck had wanted this kingdom - not when she'd never seen any kingdom worth wanting.

But now, looking at this sprawling country of fields and springs and creatures great and small, of postcard skies and the sweet breeze of summer, she finally understood why he'd recreated a version of this home in his room in Ferryport Landing, why he'd returned to it - twice - during his sojourns with the Grimms, why he'd considered it worth fighting for.

This - this land - was his. Every blade of grass, each hill and hovel, and all their living things - they were his. And he was their King.

The magnitude of this realization blew her mind apart. For years, she'd been living two doors away from the King of Faerie. She'd taken turns to use a shared bathroom, had thrown soap suds at his head when they'd done dish duty in her grandmother's kitchen. She'd mocked him, called him names, fought over a bag of potato chips and which plotless action flick to watch on their deflated sofa. And she'd dragged him along on rescue missions and detective beats and other questionable excursions at all hours of the day and night, had let him risk his life - his life! - for her family, for her.

She - a nobody, a human teenager, a lowly peasant, as he'd so often and precisely scoffed - hobnobbing with ancient royalty as if they were equals. As if he were but a normal boy, like all the other boys in her life with their normal shortcomings and normal responsibilities, their normal dreams to live out in their normal lifespans.

Then she remembered their date, and the way he'd looked at New York City - with wide eyes and barely-controlled excitement - as he'd held her hand and dutifully followed her on and off the roaring subway and in and out of cafes and delicatessens. For one evening, he hadn't been a king - just a boy on a date with a girl he'd finally learned to be with without tearing apart with words and pranks. And she'd loved him - every bit of him - because he was normal, because he was exactly as she'd wanted him - vulnerable and slightly awkward, whose arms were as much tentative and trembling as his kisses were hungry and passionate.

But then he'd turned back into a king, immortal and powerful, with the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders. And now he was off fighting monsters in some distant place, and might not come back.

She missed him - both the boy she knew and the King she didn't - and she didn't care which of them would be returning to her if she begged and prayed and bargained with the powers of the universe, as long they gave her either; even just one.

Please, she whispered in her mind, just bring him home.

Behind her, she heard the smallest of noises and turned to see Mustardseed.

"West is that way," he said by way of greeting.

"Oh. I wasn't. . . I mean. . ." Sabrina said, disoriented, and tried to gather her thoughts.

"It's the direction all the action usually is," Mustardseed was matter-of-fact as he inclined his head accordingly. "That's where the other kingdoms are who seem to always have issues with us - land disputes and trading sanctions and discriminatory marriage agreements. It's very banal, but such are the old ways."

Sabrina blinked. Was she expected to comment?

Mustardseed looked at her, and his gaze was kind. He gestured to the spot beside her. "May I?"

When she nodded, he sat next to her, leaning back on his hands, letting his legs dangle over the parapet as hers were.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, looking out at the sky, now so pale she couldn't tell what color it was.

"No."

"Neither could I. And when that happens, this is where I come."

"Oh," Sabrina said, feeling suddenly like a trespasser, "I didn't know anyone would -"

"Please," Mustardseed stopped her, "it's a treat not to be alone with my thoughts. Sometimes they can drive a person mad."

Didn't she know it. And how much weightier must his be, if they are filled with the past, present and future of his people?

"Puck would've been very touched that you came," Mustardseed said when they'd both watched the brightening sky for a few minutes, "even if he'd rather be flayed alive than admit it. And I don't mean only because of your advice in the battle."

Sabrina turned to him. "Have you heard anything?"

Mustardseed shook his head. "This is one of the times when I wish we had those communication channels they use in the wars in your world. All we have is word-of-mouth, and sometimes the couriers whose mouths we depend on never make it back to deliver their messages. As it is, we almost lost those two captains to the dragons."

"I'm sorry that we had to send the dragons here," Sabrina told him. "We -"

Mustardseed waved away her words. "Speak no more of it. It was the best course of action. Here, we have the resources to take them; in your world, it would've been catastrophic. Besides, Puck believes they came for him - for Faerie."

"He thought it was one of Oberon's enemies. Why would dragons want your kingdom?"

"Oh, everyone wants our kingdom, for one reason or another. In the past, when Faerie was not linked to your world, we settled our differences without ever involving your people. But we haven't had any wars in the last few centuries since setting up in this city. Until now. Certainly neither Puck nor I has antagonized anyone that we know of -"

"Puck might've," Sabrina pointed out. "He can't help himself."

Mustardseed's lips twitched and he smiled with his eyes. "He can be irritating, but he's not stupid, Sabrina. And he's probably right: this is just one of Father's old enemies who's decided they still want justice after all this time."

"With an army of dragons?"

"Or trolls, or witches, or any of the myriad species of hunting beasts they've managed to control. These just happen to be dragons who can shift, like Puck, and our mother. Although . . . until I saw them with my own eyes, I didn't think any others existed."

"That's right - Titania can turn into a dragon, too," Sabrina remembered. "So . . . can you, too?"

Mustardseed shook his head. "Or any other creature. I can, however, make things grow out of the earth."

"Oh, so like . . . carrots? Or turnips, maybe an apple tree?"

The Prince glanced at her with the expression of a martyr. "Forests. Entire landscapes, on a good day. Somehow, I received the more . . . sylvan aspects of our magical heritage."

Sabrina gaped, impressed and slightly jealous. What she wouldn't give to be able to have some kind of magical power. Or just be around magic without throwing up.

"So now Puck is following whatever leads he can find, hopefully to settle things before they escalate further," Mustardseed returned to the topic at hand. "If he fails, we're stuck with a dungeon full of hundreds of shapeshifting Fae on a murderous mission we still don't know anything about. Who will need to be fed and kept watch over. Not to mention that because dragons usually eat their victims, the hunt could well leave us without a king. So, for a whole host of reasons, let us pray Puck is successful."

"But there's you," Sabrina reasoned. "You will be King if Puck . . . if anything happens to him. Do you ever think about it? If Puck had never come back to Faerie or if he hadn't survived losing his wings that time, you'd be King today."

Mustardseed didn't even hesitate in his answer. "No, never. Indeed, there was always the possibility - however slim - that Puck might abdicate, but to think of it was also to think of the other reason - that it might have been his death that . . . and I did not let my mind dwell on such circumstances. But I perceive you are asking if I harbored the ambition to be King? No. It has never been my path. I will do what must be done for Faerie, and if that means I must take the throne someday, then so be it. But to desire it . . . no.

He turned to her.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Have you thought about being Queen?"

Sabrina stared at him, completely flabbergasted. Rule a magical Everafter kingdom, like Titania? When she didn't have an ounce of magic or ambition, didn't even want to set goals for a ragtag army during the war? She wondered if he were mad.

She'd opened her mouth to guffaw when it hit her - what he was implying. About Puck. About them.

Her face flushed hot.

"You should," Mustardseed continued, studying her. "If Puck continues to feel the way he does about you, it'll only be a matter of time. And you've certainly proven that you can lead, and change a restless boy for the better. He's never felt like this about anyone else in his life - human or fairy."

He chuckled suddenly. "I will admit: when we first heard the rumors, we - all of us in Faerie - dismissed them as another of his tricks. Yes, even after meeting you years ago when you returned him to us and his healing vessel anointed you. No one believed it. And everyone simply waited for it to blow over. But it never did. Years later, he's still aging. That, at the very least, is significant, and certainly no trick. Much to the dismay of many a hopeful fairy maid in the court who'd long desired to have caught his eye."

Sabrina's brows knitted together as she digested Mustardseed's words. It was strange, she reflected, that when she'd first realized she was growing rather fond of Puck, her first reaction had been horror. After all, he was disgusting to look at and even worse to be in close proximity with. Then, when she'd discovered they were married in some twisted version of the future, the horror had turned into a sense of betrayal, as if she couldn't fathom how she'd have let it happen. But as the years passed and they'd learned to navigate who they were becoming, had finally given a name to the thing between them, she was perplexed - disheartened even - that there was still no end to the barriers that stood in the way.

And his fantastical estate - she'd barely begun to wrap her mind around his authority over an ancient Fae stronghold - was just about the pinnacle; how could a boy be so normal and yet utterly not? And, more importantly, could she choose some parts of him to love and not others?

Mustardseed sighed, distracting her thoughts. "And the day begins. I will see you later, Sabrina."

He rose to leave, and Sabrina found her voice.

"No," She answered his earlier question, "I've never thought about being Queen. Is it a bad thing that I'm not even interested?"

Mustardseed smiled.

"I've always suspected it was why he picked you instead of any of the others; it was all they'd ever wanted."

Later that day, Sabrina sought out Mustardseed again. One of the nice things about being a highly-anticipated visitor, as Feylinn had called her, was being able to access the royal family at will. And, provided he was not stuck in some high-security conclave, Mustardseed always seemed happy to meet with her, especially after having so dramatically proved that she had things to say that were well worth listening to. His earlier words had haunted her more than she'd cared to admit; he hadn't meant them as a challenge, but something stirred in Sabrina's conscience, and she hadn't been able to silence it.

Now they sat in Puck's office, the same room in which she'd met with Titania years ago when she'd first come to Faerie (although she was still having trouble using the words "Puck" and "office" in the same sentence, and told Mustardseed so).

He laughed, and some of the lines disappeared from around his mouth, turning into new ones around his eyes.

"Yes, miracles never cease, do they?" He noted, continuing to regard her. Sabrina returned the look, turning Mordred's ominous statement over in her mind: you never know with the Fae, they're tricky and never say anything straight. And it wasn't only Mordred - Feylinn had said it too, yet Sabrina couldn't reconcile Mustardseed's clear, friendly gaze with the idea that he could be anything but forthright and kind. But then, she'd also watched him deal with enemies, had seen those same blue eyes turn hard as flint when issuing an order that left no room for disobedience. She had a feeling she'd never want to get on his bad side.

"What is it?" He asked her, noticing that she'd been staring and swallowing.

"I want to help," she blurted out.

"You already have," he answered, but not dismissively. "That was quite the military strategy, Sabrina. Turned everything around. It will forever go down in the annals of Faerie history as the most ingenious and efficient technique for subduing flying beasts without killing them."

"Honestly, it was just common sense. I'm surprised no one suggested it earlier - uh. . ." she hesitated, fearing that she'd thoughtlessly insinuated that the entire realm of Faerie were idiots.

Mustardseed was gracious with her slip. "No one dislocates their wings deliberately," he explained, "accidentally, yes; break them, yes; shatter them, yes. Have them completely ripped off, oh, mercy, yes. But to engineer a dislocation? It's harder than you think,. And I do believe that for a dragon it's actually almost impossible, unless it was fighting another beast of comparable size and skill. It was clever to think of it."

"I only thought of it because it happened to Puck," she confessed. "It was a lucky break, no pun intended."

"A reason for everything," he concurred. "So yes, you've already helped more than you know."

"But . . . isn't there anything else I can do? It's hard just waiting. And don't say I should go home because you know I won't. I can't, not knowing what's happening to Puck."

"Well," Mustardseed considered, "there is something. . . and in fact, Puck was thinking of having you take a look at it at some point. Said you had some . . . experience with the matter . . .?"

"What is it?"

"The children."

"What children?"

"The orphans. The ones whose parents were killed in the war."

"Oh. Are there many of them?"

"More than we'd like. Ours is such a bloody history and, under my father, even more so. And war has that inconvenient tendency to break out without warning, doesn't it? I've lost count of how many warriors answered the call of duty - walked out one day and simply never came home. They'd left young children in the care of older children, or - if they were lucky - other families. But there were also those left to fend for themselves, and if it wasn't starvation that took them during the harsh winters, it was disease in the wet springs. Or something else. Puck had always wanted to do something for them, but he was so busy fighting Oberon's wars."

Mustardseed paused. "You look surprised, Sabrina. Did you not imagine that Faerie, too, might have its fair share of forgotten children? It may be magical, but it is a kingdom like any other - full of darkness as well as light."

"No," Sabrina shook her head. "It's not that - I was just . . . I didn't think Puck would care for the children."

"He was a forgotten child once, too, you know," Mustardseed reminded her. "The exile was hard on him - hard on all of us - but it opened his eyes to what went on outside the palace walls. He never forgot that, and he would often speak of the kindness your family showed him during those years."

Sabrina's eyes had widened, and Mustardseed caught her look. "Of course, he was careful to make it sound like the Grimms were a group of imbeciles who forced him to take baths and babysit infants and - what was it - oh yes: train idiots to fight monsters not even half as ugly as themselves."

The mirth was clear in Mustardseed's eyes, and Sabrina recognized in him the softer version of Puck's bright humor.

"Well, who would've thought the boy had eyes on anyone other than himself," she commented in wonder.

"I thought you, at least, would've noticed, being one upon whom those eyes constantly fell," he returned.

Sabrina opened her mouth and found that her words had deserted her.

"Um, well, so what did Puck have in mind? For the uh . . . children?" She swiftly changed the subject.

Mustardseed knowingly looked away and reached for his phone, swiping his fingers across the screen as Sabrina gratefully took the chance to gather her flustered thoughts.

"I am aware that modern governments have committees to handle such issues but we're still very traditional, and acutely understaffed," he said regretfully, preoccupied with his phone, "but you see, back in the day, we'd simply turn a blind eye to these . . . problems. Social justice was a matter for the provinces and their overlords. The monarchy, after all, had their hands full of matters of greater importance: dealing with enemy kingdoms, for instance, and fighting wars."

He stopped and looked sheepishly up at her. "It seems that, judging from our current predicament, very little has changed."

Sabrina managed to look sympathetic.

"Anyway," Mustardseed returned his attention to his phone, "let's see . . . some ideas we brainstormed. . . ah, yes. . . rounding up the children from the streets and finding a facility to house them until they can be placed in families. . . funding for rent and food and education . . . " he read the list off the screen. "Also, workers. Not enough workers who know what they're doing."

He looked up and leaned back in his chair. "Did you know we had a rudimentary system once? Your mother, I believe, set it up. It worked in the beginning. . ." He shook his head. "But we lost her - Dame Wintershire. And we never found a replacement."

"Who?"

"Wintershire. The old lady who lived in a shoe."

Sabrina's draw dropped.

"The one who had so many children she didn't know what to do?"

"Oh, they were never her own," Mustardseed clarified. "She only had two, and they've grown up and left home. But she had this huge house - a shoe given to her by one of the giants in exchange for a babysitting service, so she thought she'd turn it into a daycare. Sadly, she took on far too many children. Parents eventually complained about neglect and so on, and she lost her license as well as the rights to the premises."

"The shoe?"

"Yes, it's been sitting empty for years on half an acre of land in Rhode Island. Huge tourist attraction - glamored, of course, to look like a mid-century mansion but it really is just a giant's shoe. It still belongs to her; she just can't run a daycare there under state laws."

"And what happened to Dame. . .er. . ."

"Wintershire? Unemployed. Pity. She really wasn't bad with the children, just overworked, understaffed, and she has boundary issues and a problem saying no, it turned out. She really shouldn't have taken on mortal children as well as the Fae ones she was already caring for."

Wheels were turning in Sabrina's head.

"What about you - and Puck? Who took care of you when you were small? And don't say Titania, because I won't believe you."

"We had a nurse. Why?"

"She any good?"

"Wonderful. Strict like you wouldn't believe. Puck still found ways to finagle all manner of treats out of her, though."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sabrina rolled her eyes. "What about her? Where is she now?"

"In semi-retirement, although she did say she'd come back and care for our children - if Puck or I had any, I mean. I hope she isn't holding her breath."

"There!" Sabrina decided, triumphant. "Buy the shoe from the old lady and move it to Faerie. No need for state laws that way, right? Put your old nurse in charge, and get her all the workers she needs. It'll create more jobs - I seem to remember there was a shortage of jobs here in Faerie not that long ago. Screen everyone to make sure they're not crackpots like Miss Smirt, the social worker Daphne and I had. Offer Dame Whatshername a position, too, so we can utilize her considerable childcare skills under someone else's better leadership."

Mustardseed was silent, listening and slowly nodding.

"And the children?" He asked. "How do we bring them in? We don't even know where they're hiding, just that they are out there, somewhere, starving, raiding . . ."

"Mr Hamelin - the Pied Piper - he can round them up. I went to school with his son. I'll call Wendell and see if he'll help, too."

"What about the paperwork? I understand that there's a lot of red tape involving real estate, and some of it is going to look real fishy to your government. That was what your mother was helping us with long ago, before the war with the Scarlet Hand."

"Mordred! Mordred can help."

"The computer hacker? How?"

"He'll cut through red tape like it was nothing. I'll talk to him."

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Mustardseed's head. "Can he do . . . credit history and social security. . . things, too? It would clear the way for our people to find jobs and buy properties in your world, should they choose to settle there. And attend schools."

"Let's ask," Sabrina said.

Mordred was called, and he sauntered in minutes later, bowing slightly to Mustardseed.

The Prince explained the situation to him, and Mordred's eyes sparkled.

"Legally, I mean," Mustardseed quickly clarified. "We don't want anything shady."

"We don't?" Mordred looked crestfallen.

"No," Sabrina confirmed. "No one wants to go to jail for tax evasion or stuff like that. We just want you to . . . facilitate things."

"Oh, so just . . . expedition, then," Mordred translated. "No creating of bogus identities, tampering with wills, bulking up people's offshore bank accounts. . .?" His eyebrows lifted hopefully.

"No!" Mustardseed and Sabrina shouted together.

"Fine, fine," Mordred's face drooped into an expression of boredom. "Be mediocre if you want. Frankly, I expected something more. . . edgy, considering who your King is."

"He's not here," Mustardseed reminded him. "And even if he were, he wouldn't really get into trouble with the law. He knows better."

Mordred turned to Sabrina with a look of pure incredulity. He tipped his head discreetly toward the Prince. "He doesn't know about the incident at your school, does he?"

"What incident?" Mustardseed's eyes narrowed.

"Long story," Sabrina hastily deflected him. "And it was a complete misunderstanding. Not a big deal at all."

She coughed to drown out Mordred's derisive snort.

"So, Mordred, can you do this?" Mustardseed returned his attention to him.

"Piece o'cake." Mordred grunted, and left.

"Which reminds me," Sabrina said in his wake, "it might be a good idea to have some . . . cultural relations how-to made available for the people of Faerie. It'll help them adjust and assimilate better in the mortal world. And vice versa, although it's less urgent for us to know how to work with you, since the Everafter world is hidden from ours."

Mustardseed nodded emphatically. "I've thought the same. What do you have in mind?"

"Ambassadors," Sabrina announced, feeling excitement build inside her. "I know the perfect person for the job, and she's right here in your palace."

Up close, the silver dragon was even more magnificent. Unlike the gnarled and wizened creatures Puck had recently faced off against with Sabrina, this one was in the prime of its life, powerful, sleek and agile. Seeing Puck approach, it slowly spiraled downward. Puck stopped and hovered a safe distance away, then dropped to the top of the nearest cliff.

The silver dragon tucked its wings as it landed before Puck, its massive body dwarfing the fairy boy who shielded his eyes and stared defiantly into its glimmering face.

Neither spoke for a few seconds, the boy warily watching the beast which, by contrast, seemed to be unconcerned for its own safety.

"What do you want?" Puck finally spoke.

Still the dragon said nothing, only angling its head slightly in an almost mocking gesture. It observed Puck with intelligent eyes - the way he fidgeted, the ripple of muscle in his arm as he gripped his sword, the fluid dance of consternation and anger on his face. For a moment, a change came over the dragon's expression, almost as if it were amused by what it saw, but it disappeared so quickly that Puck thought he'd imagined it.

"Who are you?" Puck questioned again.

This time the dragon's smile was unmistakeable. To Puck's undying surprise, the silver form shrank before him and in its place stood a Fae warrior in armor so bright it hurt Puck's eyes to look at. He was a full head taller than Puck, and his body was strong but lithe and lean in the way of veteran fairykind accustomed to battle. He had no weapons, and his head was bare except for a thin silver circlet, partially covered by bright gold hair that brushed his cheekbones. But it was his eyes that arrested Puck - green with flecks of gold, they were shrewd and intense as they regarded the boy with keen interest.

Puck felt his mouth fall open. This dragon could shift! His mother had never spoken about her people, but perhaps there were others like her, like him. This male -

He was distracted by a noise and - to speak of the devil - he lifted his eyes to see Titania appearing out of the sky, wings fluttering behind her as she touched down behind the silver warrior, who didn't turn to acknowledge her, keeping his eyes instead on Puck.

"Hello, Niall."

"Titania." His voice was cool and deep. "Glad you could join us."

Titania's eyebrow arched in surprise. Her gaze swept from the male to Puck, whom she'd just noticed, and she paled.

"Son!"

Niall smiled glitteringly. "And now the gang's all here."

A/N: I have a favor to ask, but first, a bit of background about the writing process. These three latest chapters were challenging to edit, because there were several story arcs going on at the same time - Sabrina's (in Faerie), Puck's (with his captains and the dragons) and Titania's (in her homeland). Each of these had pertinent information to be shared at a particular time so as to make sense, or heighten tension or whatever. In my draft, each arc was written linearly from start to finish, and it's only now when formatting chapters for publishing that I'm cutting-and-pasting relevant sections and moving paragraphs around to make this montage of clues. In the last stage of my draft, I actually made a grid/chart (so Type A, I know) to make sure the timelines for all three arcs were consistent i.e. what day was it that Sabrina did what in Faerie and where was Puck at the time? I like to think of it as managing suspense, but really, it was more to keep the timing straight and the plot consistent without backtracking. I played around with various methods, including chunking all the Sabrina sections together, and all the Titania sections together, and then adding headings like "Two days earlier" or writing concurrent events from another arc as a flashback. I didn't like those as much as this "montage" method - I felt the information was better revealed this way, and each chapter then had bits of each arc in it for faster pacing.

What did you guys think about how the different arcs wove in with each other? At the end of this chapter, two of the arcs (Puck's and Titania's) converge, and (one hopes) Sabrina's and Puck's will, too, later. Is this a smoother/more exciting/confusing read as compared to one chapter entirely devoted to each character's arc?

Re: reviews. At the moment of writing this A/N, FF is having technical difficulties and the reviews you guys have submitted are stuck in the nevernever somewhere. I have no doubt that they'll appear in a couple of days, but I haven't been able to read the longer, truncated ones (which made me sad and antsy at the same time). I will respond to them when I can finally access them, okay? Here are the ones I did manage to read:

Octaviawithstarsforeyes (12/15): It's a good guess. That is all I will say. And now he has a name!

Guest (12/15): Fairy names: some have been living in my head for a while already, and some I had to google!

susieq300 (12/18): Yes, silly P. And see- new chapter, so no need to languish over the suspense! Yay!

Guest (12:18): Thank you for the fabulous, comprehensive review (that is at the moment invisible). I am so glad that you liked this story and I was especially excited to read the bits you felt were contrary to the books. Yours was not the only review that addressed it, so be assured that at least one other reviewer missed that Grimm-family-gung-ho-ness, too. The Grimm family is, indeed, taking a back seat as far as frontline action goes, for no reason other than this is not their war. And, in some ways, this is not Sabrina's war, either, although she was thrown into the mix from Chapter One. When writing the first draft, I debated whether or not to give V and H a bigger physical role, and eventually decided to let them contribute to the character development instead. This is, in many ways, still Henry's story as well as Puck's, but not Veronica's, and not Relda's. I can see, though, why and where that would feel strange and different from the ethos of the books, and maybe I can write something into later chapters to redeem that. Thank you for that insight!