The crisp smell of an orchard in bloom wafted lazily in the air, ridden by nixies near my fingers length. Children, giddy with the prospect og a new home, played with renewed fervor, their laughter mixing with the clear sounds of glass wind chimes and the words of other fey. The human children, released for the moment from the charms that dulled their sense huddled in the shade, crying and talking in soft, panicked voices. I felt no pity for them, not now. My lady was calling me.

She was in the shade of a large oak tree, laying dramatically on a bed of crisp fall leaves. A silver haired man gazed dreamily at her, she didn't seem to notice him at all. A woman with ivy in her hair and cracked, brown skin played a lute next to the Lady, voice raw and unpleasant. Her fingers kept lingering on the wood, holding up the song, but a knight standing behind her inched his sword closer with each mistake. But her watery green eyes held the joy of a woman on her wedding day, flicking from the queen to the lute.

"That is quite enough," the Queen said softly, and she stopped mid-note, looking eagerly to the Lady. "You shall play that lute every day until I deem it worthy of my ear, and you may not lay a finger on wood."

"B-b-but My Lady w-w-without me my trees will d-die," the diluted green of her eyes sought Silaria's clear ones, and she only gave a smile of amusement.

I gave a sharp intake of breath. What was this, the lady being anything but kind and loving to her people? Silarial moved a fraction of an inch on her leaf bed, eyes flicking upwards to where I stood.

"Now, my good tree spirit, you know what the penalties can be for betraying your Queen. Know where your alliances lie, my good lady," Silarial smiled kindly as the tree spirit poured out countless thanks and turned to leave, her fingers brushing over the bark of a tree. She heaved a shuddering sigh as her skin smoothed over and the ivy in her hair neatened.

"Roiben," she addressed the silver haired man; stroking his hair. "Leave me for now, I must talk to Myrocia." He looked up at her, halfway between awed and disappointed.

"Yes, My lady." He stood up to go, almost passing through the curtain of leaves before the Seelie queen called from behind him.

"I await your declaration. It will b within the week, will it not?"

"If not sooner," Roibens dreamy voice said, not even turning. The Seelie Queen smiled, murmuring to herself,

"The sooner the better." She turned to face me, her green eyes glinting in the sun. "I apologize if I seemed harsh with the tree spirit. But I cannot let mercy break me. You understand, of course?"

"Yes, My Lady," I said, awed. I loved my Lady more and more each day. What a shining person, the most lovely merciful fey, surely, to ever see the day.

"Good. But I have brought you here for a reason. I understand you have trained with your brother, Talathain?"

"Yes," I said, less at ease than before.

"Excellent. How expert would you say your skill was?

"Lady, no where near expert. I can hold a sword and fight moderately well, but I—"

"Modesty has no place here, Myrocia. Could you hold off twenty men?"
"Untrained in the art of the sword I could kill thirty in the space of a quarter hour." I tried not to sound vain as I said the prideful words.

"Excellent," the word hissed out of her mouth like a deflating balloon. "You may leave."

I flinched at the blunt dismissal, so unlike her trademark, but I turned to go anyway when I heard another voice.

"Fetch Talathain to come after you," she said. I raised my blue eyes to meet her pink ones and curtsied politely.

"Yes Lady Dulcamara."