Frayed Knots

by FountainPenguin

"It's not my problem if you're embarrassed, Anti-Cosmo," H.P. said as I hugged my shoulders. He scratched his chin. "Hm. I suppose there's no help for it. If you honestly and truly want to wear a hat, then you'll have to secure a high position of power so no one ever dares to say anything about it that's negative in the least." (Written August 2016 - Ongoing)

34. Floodgates

(Posted July 21st, 2023)

Floodgates

In which Anti-Cosmo and his mother network with the Head Pixie, Anti-Blade challenges Anti-Lance, and Anti-Cosmo tutors Anti-Wanda in the Winter of the Scattered Whispers

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Anti-Buster approved me to wear a new betrothal ring, seeing as I'd thrown mine off in the Eros Nest and none of us dared ask the Eros Triplets if I could have it back. We spoke of it in private. I kept my eyes downcast and told him what I wanted. He did not deny me that request, nor urge me to break ties with Mona. For that, I was grateful. If she'd discovered our false betrothal all because Anti-Buster had put down his foot on the matter, well… I think I would have flown away from Cedarcross and never shown my face in Anti-Fairy World again. I might still be out there in the wild now, my entire body horribly overcome with gangrene, likely addicted to regeneration cycles and whimpering about all that I had lost. No, thank you… I'd cling on to my comforting lies. Without them, I might not be able to breathe.

Well, I met Anti-Buster, Fairy-Coleen, and the High Count all in the breakfast room in the very early hours of the day. Anti-Buster did all the fitting for me, though Coleen Prime floated nearby so she could offer the occasional thumbs up. The Fernfire family knows their gems… I'll say that much. I only wished I could choose one from the box she'd brought downstairs for Anti-Bryndin. My betrothal ring was mere foggilite. I wouldn't get the traditional black leather band with a gem until my wedding day. Though, I'd been wondering if I might be able to swap the leather out for a less animal-related material…

"A citrine," the High Count decided at last. He actually was the High Count right now, for Winni had shifted his attention somewhere else and had no interest in using his body at the crack of dawn. I turned away from the small mirror in Anti-Buster's hands to see Anti-Bryndin lifting a small jewel from Fairy-Coleen's display box. He weighed it in his palm. It was neatly cut, perfectly square. "Yes, this is good. An amethyst holds a pretty colour, but here is my true need. This best represents our friendship now."

"It suits him," Fairy-Coleen said, bowing low. She would have said that about any gem, I'm sure, but Anti-Bryndin looked satisfied nonetheless. He motioned for Anti-Buster to turn the mirror away from me and focus on him instead. Oh. As I watched, Anti-Bryndin took hold of his tongue and dragged it down. We Anti-Fairies are known for our long tongues, which we decorate with gemstones representing our closest friends and partners. I still carried both Anti-Lance's and Anti-Kanin's on the back of my tongue, although I'd considered removing the latter several times.

Anti-Bryndin looked as though he had a few gemstones in need of replacing. It's one of the downsides to acidic saliva, but of course… one of the perks of being noble is to enjoy gemstones any time of day you want them. A piece of jade on the High Count's tongue represented Anti-Elina. The ruby was for my mother. Although no one had confirmed the amethyst for me, I couldn't imagine anyone more fitting for it to represent than Shamaiin Vieldgarr, his childhood friend and the current Purple Robe. There were two more gems for people I didn't recognise. So… did he plan to add the citrine to his tongue, then? That didn't seem quite right to me. It's traditional to select a favour together, with the favoured person identifying a stone they feel truly represents them and the recipient covering costs…

I didn't mean to stare, but Anti-Bryndin caught sight of me in the mirror and turned his ears my way. "Ah. Do you wonder about this citrine, Anti-Cosmo?"

My wings jumped. "Oh! Um…" I ducked my head, glancing off. "No, sir. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal space." I adjusted the Water-blue ring on my knuckle. But Anti-Bryndin didn't seem to notice I'd just tried to dip out of the conversation.

"Yes, it is a long time in coming, this favour jewel for my tongue…" Leaning his hip against the small food table beside us, Anti-Bryndin reached out and casually plucked up an apple. Its surface had grown dull, now freckled with brown, but he held it before his eyes as though it shone. He smiled. "These sounds in the energy field betray your curiosity. I do not mind this. It is for the Head Pixie that I choose a favour, but time zones have ruined him. We will discuss details tonight."

I coughed. More than a bit, actually; I spluttered. I only felt grateful that I hadn't been drinking from the wineglass one of the servants had brought me. But even without the shower of wine to accompany my shock, I forgot my composure. I forgot where I stood and whom I addressed. I whirled around. "What? You don't mean he actually-? But- but… He's Seelie!" I couldn't believe the bizarre timing of it all, imagining this revelation back to back with my explanation to Blonda on why Seelie and Unseelie interactions rarely ever worked. I shook my head. "H-how did you manage to pierce your tongue if he doesn't even have…?"

Anti-Buster lay his hand on my shoulder. I fumbled my sentence to a close. Anti-Bryndin looked me over with pure amusement sparkling in his eyes. He nodded with a slight dip of his head. "The Head Pixie and I hold a relationship that is very close, and we choose to exchange the deepest of commitments."

"C-congratulations." My face must have been raspberry purple. I… I didn't understand. Certainly I knew that Anti-Bryndin and the Head Pixie must preen together, even deep preen, as Seelie political expectations would dictate the two leaders of two powerful races do, but for Anti-Bryndin to go as far as adorning the Head Pixie's chosen favour on his tongue…

I shivered. That was one step beyond political expectations. There must be deep affection between the two of them indeed, but I couldn't imagine how Anti-Bryndin had coaxed such commitment from the Head Pixie in such a short span of time. Um… Relatively speaking, anyway. I suppose they've had their friendship for nearly 10,000 years, so I may be exaggerating somewhat. But still, the Head Pixie agreeing to exchange favours…

… Had Anti-Bryndin actually informed the Head Pixie what that sort of bond implied? It might be incredibly rude of me to imply he didn't. But had he? My core twitched and fluttered in my head. Are you even allowed to exchange favours with another head of state? Surely that interferes with politics, and surely that must be seen as a conflict of interest somewhere along the way, wot?

I pulled on my shirt collar, staring quietly as Anti-Bryndin ran his blue tongue across his lips. Often, I did wonder of his life. I'd speculated. I envied the frills and trappings with which he blanketed himself. My head frequently delights in the fantasy of marrying as many damsels as he keeps beneath his wing. But this was, I think… the first time that I envisioned myself sitting upon the High Count seat and living frightfully, surrounded by expectations and experiences connected to my social status instead of my true soul.

I shivered. Anti-Bryndin clearly read my mind, because when he caught my eye again, he rubbed the apple on his chest. "You seem puzzled and conflicted. What is the reasoning for this look you give?"

I felt owl-like, as though nothing but my eyes peered up from the top of my jacket. "I," I said, for I had been addressed by the High Count… and you can't simply not respond to him then. "I just don't know if I could do what you do in leadership… I fear I would not be able to balance political relationships alongside my genuine ones. I would be too frightened to ask the Head Pixie to take my favour."

Anti-Bryndin peered at me in thought, then nodded. "I see this confusion and the stories you have told yourself. You mistake passion of the heart as passion of the body. But the Head Pixie does not like me for my rank as High Count, but for the soul I carry. Position is nothing, as Anti-Fairies know, and he knows it too." His hand clamped on my shoulder then, and I flinched. "It is not for rank and politics that we share ourselves, but because we are true in friendship. Someday, if you sit on my son's camarilla court, perhaps my son will never have the Head Pixie's favour if he chooses not to have friendship, and perhaps a member of his court will want to be his friend. It is okay to take the Head Pixie's favour even if the High Count does not have it, for a favour must always be exchanged between souls and never because of rank. There is no lying in favours, which are sacred, and any Anti-Fairy can become a friend of the Head Pixie if he lets you close. This is for any Fairy, or any pixie. We do not stop Anti-Fairies, even if it is with Fairies, for taking favours does not break the Council's law. It is not Rhoswen syndrome, but friends. We are permitted this. Is this okay?"

"Um… Yes, High Count."

"Then you be good." He rustled my hair with his claws and nudged me sideways with a smile; I stumbled on my wings. Anti-Bryndin returned to his apple. He left the breakfast hall. Fairy-Coleen threw me a glance with her eyebrows raised, then stayed long enough to pack the remaining gems in her briefcase. I floated in silence for a moment with my gaze on my feet. To bear one's favour on your tongue is, well…

It's the truest sign of friendship you'll ever engage in. But it's for Anti-Fairy drakes, isn't it? And for good reason… After all, part of the ritual sort of involves pressing holes in the tongue. To imagine a knife quivering in the hand of a dainty damsel who might shy away from pain from lack of experience, let alone a Seelie Courter who's even less familiar with our culture…

Mm. Well. I suppose it was none of my business, for the Head Pixie was out of my social circle and therefore wasn't someone I needed to concern myself about. I thanked Anti-Buster for the replacement betrothal ring and went on my way.

I planned to touch base with Anti-Wendy before the day became too busy. My mother, however, seemed to disagree. They flew up to me in the hall and caught my upper arm with a pinch. I winced as their talons sunk into soft skin. Blonda had been right… I did need to update my wardrobe. If for no other reason, then certainly because several layers of fabric would protect me all the better.

"Eskel, come," they said in Vatajasa, lowering their voice. "Don't use Snobbish… but also don't speak loudly. I want as little of this as possible to get back to the High Count."

I looked over my shoulder at the servant's passage that would lead me to where Anti-Wendy had surely started work. I'd have liked to speak with her… perhaps exchange a few touches if she had the time. "Erm… How close must this secret be kept to the vest, Mother? Might Salalalyn hear us?"

"There is a mark on the floor where we pass outside her sphere of influence. Come. I will show it to you."

Being the obedient son I was (contrary to popular disbelief), I followed my mother's lead. Or perhaps it was nosiness which drew me on. They took up a blue lantern and pulled me deeper into Cedarcross, using thin passageways I hadn't wandered down before. As we walked, I ran my fingers along the rocky walls. They stayed smooth and well cut. Cindersalt, I think. Yes, I could make out glittering silver pillars of the stuff the deeper we went underground. I breathed deeply. I could smell the smoky tang of ancient Anti-Fairy in the air.

My mother found a place where the cindersalt pillars had been overgrown with pale, glowing blue nightmoss. I arched one eyebrow. With the moss softening the area, our voices wouldn't echo so loudly. Evidently, my mother had been serious when they warned me not to let my voice be heard. Once they had patted and prodded the area with their bo staff, they turned back to me. Again they spoke in a whisper, and again only in Vatajasa.

"I thought last night of what you said, Anti-Cosmo. Had the new Hy-Brasilian laws not been drawn, perhaps you could have been heir to the Blue Castle colony after Anti-Bryndin. That is, in a world where your brother still cut ties and departed in a huff. Answer me this… Would you still like to inherit highly? Because… there are ways to remove drakes of power from the current line."

… What? Did they mean to… remove Anti-Phillip from the equation? And Anti-Stacey too? I stared at my mother, who stared back at me with blue eyes wide and gleaming. I… I didn't know what to say. I opened my mouth, but no words left my tongue. Not at first. I placed one hand to my chest, my wings fluttering, and tried again: "Mother, that's… You speak of treason. Ooh, we could both have our wands snapped for even entertaining the thought!"

My mother tilted their head, blinking at me quietly in the dark. The blue moss lining the cindersalt pillars and the blue lantern in their hand provided the only light in the room apart from our glowing eyes. They raised their bo staff. I flinched automatically, but a hit across my head never came. Instead, they gestured up the slanted corridor behind me, towards the surface. "The Head Pixie came to Cedarcross. He's a gyne. His strength could be, perhaps… beneficial in some way. You often speak to him. He confides his soul in you. Between the two of us, we may be able to offer him something that can sway his mind. In return, all we would ask is what comes naturally to him."

I swivelled back my ears. Anti-Bryndin and Anti-Phillip were both pilots: the name given to an Anti-Fairy whose Fairy counterpart was classed as a gyne. Gynes are natural enemies. Did she suggest Swanee-Phillip's murder? Disguised as a minor turf war between gynes, overlooked by fae society at large? "Mother, it would never work. The Head Pixie has taken Anti-Bryndin's favour. He won't take the life of his son. Yes, yes, I've no doubt he can afford high wergild, but it's all too easy for me to imagine Anti-Bryndin retaliating and claiming Sanderson's life in return. The Head Pixie wouldn't risk his nephew that way."

My mother stroked their chin a moment, looking me over from eartips to bare toes. "Then would you content yourself with the death of Anti-Buster? We may be able to play our cards if we are careful. I can put in a good word for you. Let's not overlook the reality, Anti-Cosmo, that your Blue Castle birth colony and your Fairy education are both key elements that place you in high standing with Anti-Bryndin. You were once considered for architect training. Your brains precede you. If we are careful… Perhaps you could take up the First General cloak when Anti-Buster is no more."

I hesitated. We spoke secret words of poison, murder, and treason… that was something I couldn't ignore. But they were conniving words of lust, riches, and fame. My mother saw my wavering and brought their palm against my cheek.

"Your father has gone to smoke and your goody-goody brother has ruined us. I only want the best in life for you, Anti-Cosmo-lo-lo. If you blame me for denying you opportunities because of the path I took in life, let this be my atonement. Let me offer you the best future that I can. If I can't make a creche father out of you, let me make you the highest ranking follower drake in all of Hy-Brasil."

I thought of Mona and the plans we had made to dress in each other's pretty clothing. I thought of the Head Pixie and the words he'd whispered of fame and fortune, all dangling just beyond my reach. I thought of my father, who'd died as he'd lived: a lowly servant with nothing to his name. I thought of my brother, who skipped between colonies chasing skirts and volunteering their time to picking up anti-pixie garbage, but never contacting home.

Did I have it in me to be First General? Did I even want to hold that power? Although I'd been raised in the Blue Castle colony for many years of my life, I still wasn't sure I could fathom all the responsibilities Anti-Buster juggled day after day. I knew he helped to organise ceremonies. He helped create the menus in migration season and ensured that things ran smoothly around every corner. Since Anti-Bryndin had often been too busy with High Count duties to give the pups his full attention, Anti-Buster had taught me many things when I was small, such as crafts and reading.

I gazed back at my mother, who stared at me with a hunger like the ocean in their eyes. They'd wanted this "for me," they'd said… and perhaps I knew exactly what they meant. My mother, quite literally, held one of the highest ranks an Anti-Fairy damsel could. Just over 80,000 Anti-Fairies called Anti-Fairy World their home. A few thousand more lived their lives down on Earth, and a few thousand more than that took refuge in the periphery colonies such as Red Retreat and Legend Peak II. No other damsel could call herself the High Count's personal guard, let alone that in addition to being one of his wives. But while that rank may be high for a damsel, it would never be the First General position. It would never be the seat of the High Count.

"Mother," I said, very quietly and in Vatajasa (Nuttavum is the proper word, or Nutta in affection). I brought my folded hands to rest against my lips, tasting every word before it left my tongue. I drew in a careful scoop of magic from Cosmo's core and steadied my wings. "There may instead be a way to benefit us both. What if… we chose to target Anti-Elina for removal in place of Anti-Bryndin or Anti-Phillip?"

My mother blinked. I went on.

"After my time in the Eros Nest, Mona told me Anti-Phillip isn't popular with the Anti-Fairy crowd. 'He's too weak-willed, with no steady sign of shaping up'- that's exactly what she said, and she insisted that his speeches were rather poor. Perhaps we needn't waste our time with him." I drifted forward, whispering even lower, while the nightmoss glittered all around us. "To eliminate both the High Count and his heir in one fell swoop is far too suspicious to be believed. Let us instead bring an end to Goblin-Elina. Everyone has heard the rumours that Anti-Bryndin keeps Anti-Zoe locked away in a grain silo. Perhaps in Anti-Elina's absence, you can be High Countess in her place. You will pull more strings then… and should Anti-Bryndin pass on, your reign would be upheld… as would your choice of heir."

I watched their eyes roll sideways as they considered this proposal with a tapping claw. I waited, my hands tightly pressed together before my mouth. Had I really suggested such a thing? A murder? A coup? The words hardly tasted like my own, but I couldn't deny they'd left my lips. My wings faintly shook. I could feel my core begin to beat, stirring sluggishly awake from its cosy den inside my head. Was I an accomplice in this? Did it make me an awful person?

Surely not… for a gyne ends another's life many times throughout his own. What does it matter if I suggest the removal of only one fae in this world? They can't fault me for that.

When I'd heard of deaths throughout my school years, my Fairy peers tended to speak of the Seelie counterpart. My mind often went to an innocent Anti-Fairy who had died in the process, never expecting the sudden snap. It's cruel, I think, to be what we are… I could be reading in the library one day and still might fall prey to an untimely demise, all because my hosting counterpart gave a little stumble and broke his neck irreversibly.

But knowing what I did of Goblin-Elina, I simply didn't feel pity. She'd already lived a long and wealthy life. While Anti-Elina acted with a bit more humility, Goblin-Elina had turned spoilt from a very young age. Perhaps the world wouldn't miss her. Anti-Elina had lived quite comfortably. She'd be reincarnated someday and could give this world another go. Let us take turns spreading around the grandeur of the highest class.

"I never did like Anti-Elina," my mother mumbled. "Anti-Bryndin chose her as High Countess only for the fact that she was born a Leaves. She isn't even his spirit-given match. Her daddy owed Anti-Henrie a favour, so their children were betrothed. That's all it was. Anti-Ember always admired me."

"Anti-Elina tolerated me when I was young, but has been a firmer hand than I needed growing up. I haven't forgotten how she tried to push me down an architect's path. Thank smoke I wasn't forced. Anti-Elina doesn't even care for her step-son and step-daughter anyway. You know, Mother- I think she's always resented that her counterpart and Swanee-Bryndin did not unite to have children of their own. She may be tired of this life. She needs a fresh start. A new incarnation. Perhaps we are doing her a favour."

She hardly played a significant role anyway. Removing her from the narrative didn't seem like it would hurt anyone.

My mother patted their bo staff against their palm, tilting back their head. I followed their gaze. The cindersalt pillars rose around us, glistening with nightmoss like rainclouds in a sea of dull blue stars. They said, "I will say, I do find it more likely that I would be deemed High Countess than the chances of you being declared heir in the wake of Anti-Phillip's death. After all, Anti-Stacey is heir presumptive. Perhaps, if I take Anti-Elina's place… this could work. I guarantee nothing, but as you said, I may have the opportunity to whisper a few words and tug a few strings."

I nodded. "And particularly if Anti-Phillip holds little favour with the populace anyway. A scorned prince is all the easier to overthrow."

"I can't promise you a high position should I take the role of High Countess. Not soon, anyway. Are you content with that?"

"Shall it be my fate, I'll reap my rewards in good time. Until then, Mona and I have plans." I smiled thinly back at my mother's curious look. "Our counterparts are considered too young to marry in Fairy World's legal system, but someday soon, Mother… I expect I'll be bringing you a grandchild. I have my plans and ways."

When I turned to exit the chamber, Mother placed their cold hand on my shoulder. "I think we should still request the Head Pixie's aid. After all, he can navigate Fairy World far more easily than you or I."

"Is that wise, Mother? Suppose he betrays our trust."

"I'll take it in small steps. I'll ask careful questions." They bonked me lightly with the tip of their staff before I could ask what they meant. "I heard he'll be gambling in the basement card room this evening. Dress nicely. I'll see you then."

"Yes, Mother. I love you."

As I followed my mother up the sloping path to the proper temple halls again, I tried to balance the conflicting thoughts that swirled inside my brain. Did I truly intend to be an accomplice in Anti-Elina's death? It wasn't only her life we were playing with, or even the lives of her counterparts. Anti-Elina also acted as Thurmondo's medium to the mortal planes. Thurmondo was an exhausted and easily distracted spirit, and winter had always been his most frantic time of year. Anti-Elina would be at her weakest now as she tried to balance his spirit with hers. Not that this mattered, particularly… After all, Goblin-Elina would be our target.

I couldn't decide how I felt about my mother's plan to meet the Head Pixie. Where, pray tell, did his loyalties lie? And why should he bother himself with Anti-Fairy politics regarding who held the High Countess seat? More importantly, would showing up alongside my mother implicate me in the crime before it even happened?

Another more pressing, more painful thought kept worming its way inside my head: Would Anti-Bryndin reward me somehow if I were to turn in my mother because of treason?

I dabbed my handkerchief against my forehead, just trying to maintain my cool composure. As far as I could tell, betraying my mother guaranteed me nothing and might even run the risk of them throwing out time keys of our secret conversation… which would out me as the one who suggested Anti-Elina's removal in the first place. Angering my mother was not a position I particularly wanted to be in. And on the other wing, if we succeeded…

Then my status would be elevated and lifetime secured. I'm far more likely to be selected as a member of the camarilla court this way. Or perhaps even as First General. So long as Anti-Bryndin held equal authority with my mother, they couldn't overrule his decision to name Anti-Phillip as his heir. But you know, it doesn't hurt to place yourself in that position just in case something, someday, might happen to cross your path. Fate is only 10% luck, you know. Timing is critical, and the value of networking should never be overlooked.

Anti-Fairies were beginning to filter in for breakfast by the time my mother and I came upstairs. I joined the rest of my colony: Anti-Rosefire, Anti-Jasper, Anti-Snowflake, and the others. Anti-Lance greeted me curtly, but relaxed when I reminded him that I had permission to use the nobles' roosting room. Apparently, I hadn't told him where Mona and I would be last night and he'd been awfully worried for us both. For being stressed off his wingtips, he still looked polished and lovely: blue vest, white sleeves, and accented perfectly with his salt and pepper hair. Anti-Blade expressed equal delight in seeing me, but I very quickly learned the reason why. He asked me, and not at all properly, whether he might have the honour of pairing with Anti-Saffron this mating season before I had the chance. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would consider this a lack of respect.

Anti-Lance caught the tail end of this conversation as he returned with a plate of pancakes for all of us to split. I physically saw the hairs bristle up along the back of his neck. "Neither of you should be making any plans to touch her so blatantly in front of me. She's my damsel first."

Mona flushed fiercely and dropped her gaze to her lap. Anti-Blade mumbled an apology. I stared silently at Anti-Lance with my chin resting in my hand. While he might be wearing a nice vest this morning, putting on a show of being creche father to impress his cold-shouldered sire, I could still trace out the shape of his muscles in my mind. It reminded me of how shirtless he'd been when we pruned his array tree back at Carl Poofypants. I wondered if 10,000 years would be too soon to let him know that I wouldn't be opposed to progressing from the stage of sharing favours to something more.

"I had you all wrong, Anti-Lance," I told him absently. "I really thought you didn't care for partnership. 'No betrothed' and all that."

"I don't care," he said, stubborn and flushing now. "I don't. I don't want a lover in my life. But Anti-Saffron and Anti-Snowflake are under my care, and you will do well to respect my rank in this colony. You need my consent if you think you can touch either one of them.

Anti-Blade and I exchanged glances. Then we turned our frowns on Anti-Lance. We must have looked like twins, I think, when we crossed our arms at the same time. "I say," I said. "Father, you may be forgetting who it was who brought Anti-Saffron to your doorstep in the first place."

"Seems stupid to keep her around if no one's showing her a good time," Anti-Blade put in. "She conveyed herself for full rotation. Don't keep her on a shelf with the matchbox if she'd rather see herself on the dance floor."

"I am creche father of this colony. Don't lay a hand on her."

Our group stayed silent for another five seconds. Then Anti-Blade launched himself straight across the table, screeching, and tackled Anti-Lance straight to the floor. The plate of pancakes went flying in the air. Anti-Rosefire shot up his wand, the tip sparking useless blue flakes, and the rest of the colony descended in chaos. I jerked back from the table, not sure how to step in. Anti-Jasper leapt forward to pry the two apart. Mona and Anti-Snowflake gripped each other's arms and backed quietly away. Heads turned around us, eyes wide, as we all gawked at the two small anti-fairies tussling like, well… fairies. I'd never seen anything like it in Anti-Fairy World. The pair kicked and bit, flailing each other's limbs around just as much as their own.

I stood, frozen, until a blur of bright green fur and yellow clothing signalled that the Head Anti-Pixie had arrived in the great hall. He pulled Anti-Blade away while Anti-Jasper helped Anti-Lance back to his feet. Anti-Lance snorted, dusting off his front, while the Head Anti-Pixie turned Anti-Blade full around and ordered him to take a walk. Anti-Blade looked at him a moment, confused, then did as he said. I don't think any of us really knew exactly how much weight the Head Anti-Pixie had to throw around. None of us particularly wanted to get on his bad side. Before he departed, he gave me a bear hug that nearly snapped my spine, I swear. I looked about for Mona, but she and Anti-Snowflake had both disappeared without a trace.

Hmm.

There is a great beauty in migration season. Without the need to study with Blonda, I had no appointments to worry about. I held full ability to do whatever I liked with my spare time. I checked in with my chiropractor so he could treat my wing as he did once or twice every migration. I spent two hours talking to Lohai about her unborn candles. About genie conservation. About our future. We debated names and I promised her the world as I could give it to her, then locked myself in the water closet and dropped on the floor to call myself a liar. I huddled for a time with my arms around my knees. The world felt very large to me.

For a time, I toyed with the fresh betrothal ring on my hand. I twisted and twisted it around my knuckle until it wore a groove that ached. The sight of it made my throat dry like a wrinkled leaf. It left my wings trembling. I felt cold.

Anti-Buster had granted me this ring in confidence, even knowing that I had lied about my betrothal to Mona. I asked myself again why I felt I deserved an inheritance. Who was I, but a young drake whom others took pity on from above?

I'd chosen a small, hidden room where I could rest on the floor, but Anti-Blade tracked me down anyway. He knocked his knuckles on the cave's tunnel wall until I lifted my head. I squinted. Anti-Blade's black tail curved from the rear of his trousers, ticking back and forth as though it dangled from a clock. Hhh… I rather suspected I already knew what he wanted to discuss.

"Can we go to roost?" he asked.

I wiped sticky snot on the back of my wrist. "I'd rather not, actually… I'm afraid I don't have the mind for an extensive conversation. Is this quick?"

"Yes, but you're going to want touch for this."

"I don't know. Not right now."

Anti-Blade shrugged his wings. "I'm going to challenge my brother for leadership of his colony. Tomorrow. We've settled on a time and place. If you'd rather leave now and not get involved, you can renounce your colony alignment to H.P."

"H.P.?" I asked, feeling blank.

"The Head Pixie. Anti-Bryndin signed a contract and those pixies have taken charge of colony registration."

"Oh… Yes. Anti-Wanda did mention that." I turned my head away, not moving from my quiet place on the stone floor. My claws tightened in my palms. He'd been right. I should have requested his touch. "Thank you for the information. I'll take it to core."

Most of my second afternoon in Cedarcross passed in precisely that way: lying on my back, my limbs sprawled around me, as my core fluttered inside my head. Should I propose marriage to Mona? It wouldn't do me any good right now. We couldn't finalise a marriage on such short notice; the Love Temple was much too far. If Anti-Lance conceded to Anti-Blade's challenge, Mona would become his rightful damsel. In fact, I felt quite certain that winning Mona's affection was his sole reason for standing against his brother. Both Anti-Jasper and I would side with Anti-Lance, I felt quite certain, but I hadn't the foggiest where that left Mona, Anti-Rosefire, and Anti-Snowflake. What then? Would Anti-Lance lose his good standing in his father's eyes? Would the remains of our colony even stay standing for long? I could hardly bear to think of it.

I tossed and turned on the hard ground until I felt hopelessly tangled in my own thoughts. I tried to remind myself again and again that Anti-Blade's challenge had been inevitable. It did little to soothe my nerves. A thousand What ifs? swirled about my head and I whimpered and whined about every one. What if tonight was the last night I shared in Mona's company? What if she left me for Anti-Blade anyhow? What if no other damsel ever loved me again? What if Anti-Lance no longer wished to see me? What if he dropped out of school with a heavy core and I gave up to follow him? Jasmine hadn't come with me on migration. Apart from Lohai, I had no one I felt I could confide in. I made one or two probing attempts to mind-meld with my counterparts, but neither of them picked up the request.

I scratched my claws against the floor, craving the vast cushion of sleep. It didn't come. So with an aching head and an aching core, I quietly went out to find Mona. It took longer than I would have liked to track her down, but in the end I found her petting black cats in the cattery. Of course. She was born for the veterinary world. They'd always been her favourite source of bad luck. Even though I could hover, I felt the need to watch the floor beneath me as I floated over to the sofa where she sat. Dark fur covered her blue dress, the tangled frizz in her hair wild and cat-like in itself.

"Well," I said to Mona, "I suppose you've heard wind that Anti-Blade plans to extend challenge his brother."

Evidently she hadn't, because she jerked up her head and demanded details (in her alliterative way). Once I relayed them, Mona stared down at one of the kittens in her lap as though disgusted. As though she might be sick. I picked up a particularly large longhaired cat from the sofa cushion beside her and took a seat.

"We need to decide who we side with, of course. Even if Anti-Blade does win the challenge, that means nothing at all if the rest of the colony ignores him and chooses to follow Anti-Lance anyhow. My mind has been running in circles since he confessed his plan to me. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?"

Mona pet the kitten in her lap between the ears. It mewed gently, snuggling against her stomach. The one in my own lap swatted a paw at its whiskers. I held it carefully out of reach, my wand at the ready in case it required an instant declawing. Finally, Mona murmured, "Both Anti-Lance and Anti-Blade have been kind to me. I think it only fair if I back the winner of the fight."

My chest tightened by a pinch. But what I said was, "Very well, my darling." I rose again and kissed her forehead. "Do let me know if you discover any second thoughts. As much as I cared for Anti-Lance, you are the warden of my heart. I shall follow you to any new colony where the creche father permits me to stay."

"Julius?"

I turned, still cradling the longhaired cat in my arms. Mona stared up at me, her white wings fluttering. She bit her lip. Her gaze dropped to the kitten in her hands.

"Will you stay with me tonight? Anti-Blade might try to steal me away."

"Of course, Mona. I have plans to make the rounds and socialise this evening, but I'll be at your side the moment that I'm free. I'm with my mother for a while and I've a study to attend."

Anti-Wanda made herself quite a nuisance to find, actually. From what I'd glimpsed throughout the day, she hardly had a spare moment because she spent all her free time catching up with her sister. They hadn't seen each other since spring, so it was only fair I granted her that. I lingered in the dining room after supper, waiting for them to finish up. Finally, Anti-Wanda exited the kitchen tunnel in a spritely mood. I followed her along the hall until I determined she didn't have a camarilla court meeting she needed to attend. Then I asked if we could plan a study schedule. She agreed… Oh, thank smoke. I would have felt like such a creep if she rejected me then.

"How's your colony?" she asked me as we began walking towards the temple library. I had a few items I wanted to place on reserve.

"On the smaller side for our age, but well enough. It's a larger one than I'm used to, if I'm quite frank. My first bachelor colony quickly dropped to only two of us. Have you met Anti-Lance? He's a wonderful gentledrake."

"Met him for papers," Anti-Wanda said, shrugging her wings. "Seems swell. Always thought a [bachelor] colony might be fun someday."

"Bachelor, bachelor," I corrected, replacing the term for 'female canine' that she'd used in its place. Anti-Wanda went on without acknowledging my words.

"Anyone got pups yet? Or are all y'all too young for that?"

"Oh no, none at the moment. Several of us are common anti-fairies and our counterparts have their tubes stopped up. That said, I'm currently in the midst of a very clever scheme. I suspect I'll be the first among us with a pup of my own… but for it all to come together, I need to get Fairy-Cosmo onboard. I sent him a letter. I intend to speak with him very soon."

Anti-Wanda almost flew into a wall sconce. She stared at me like she'd only understood every fourth word I'd spoken. Um. Had I misspoken? Perhaps I'd been offensive. Perhaps she simply didn't believe. Finally, she cocked her head to one side in a way that swung her pegasustail widely out. "Aw… I think you're gonna be a good daddy, Anti-Cosmo. You're real smart and you'll teach your pups a load of smart things one day. Can't wait to see ya carrying them around at migration, k'yuh."

"Thank you kindly, my dear. I'm certain you'll be a wonderful mother yourself."

"Sure." She sounded disinterested. "Unless my countypart sticks with Anti-Juandissimo, I might can get stuck with one or two a' the little buggers someday. Not my problem now, though. I'mma take this time to live for myself and see the world. I wanna travel the cloudlands 'til I've got the whole map in my mammary" ("It's 'memory, luv").

I blinked, my lashes nearly shoving off my monocle. "You don't look forward to having pups?"

Now it was Anti-Wanda's turn to look confused. "Why would I? Pups get all smelly, pointy, and they drool acid down your skin. Their fangs will leave scars across your milk-suckers" ("breasts" I interjected, slightly covering my face with my hand). "Ain't you ever even held a pup before?"

Had I? I stood there a moment, puzzling over the question. I'd been under fifty years when I trapped myself in Liloei's lamp, and 68,000 when I wriggled out again. I'd focused on my schooling, paintings, the Vatajasa language, Lohai, my therapy, and my first job at the Sugarslew chocolate factory throughout that time. Not so much attention given to other pups. "I suppose I haven't," I finally said. "I've raised a few pets with my betrothed as well as a genie, but that only half counts, doesn't it? Their lifespans are but a fraction of our own. Oh, I don't know… Really, I'd like a child because the Fairies protest against it. The right to be a father was stripped from me two years after I was born. I'd very much like to get them back."

"I just wanna have a choice in it," Anti-Wanda said, shrugging again. She bent down, scratching a talon between her bare toes. Long white toes, just like mine. I politely averted my gaze from both the front of her shirt (which dangled so low it exposed her breasts) and her now tipped-up rear (since her trousers had nearly slipped low enough to expose the curves of her cheeks) and I instead fixed my attention on the patterns curling across the stone ceiling. She said, "I dunno if I'll get one, but it'd be nice if my countypart gave a warning sometime. Y'know how back before the war, lots of Anti-Fairies lived in the same house their countypart did, and it was all agreed two or three ways before you took a mate? I was born in the wrong time, Anti-Cosmo. That's sorta why I wanted to join the 'rilla court. See, if I mean somethin'… Maybe my counterpart will care, then. Maybe she'll think twice afore she knocks up her pretty-boy boyfriend with a baby."

Pretty boy? What a rather… interesting jab. Particularly if intended to be hypothetical. My eyes struggled to stay focused on the ceiling. I risked a peek, just a small one, down her shirt as she straightened up again. Only briefly. "Oh. Are you and Anti-Juandissimo… affectionate right now?"

She glared down at me, eyes sparking. "None a' your sweet business."

"All right, fair enough." She wasn't one of my drake friends. I let it go, but Anti-Wanda wasn't done. She huffed a cloud of silver magic between her teeth. It twinkled with swirls like galaxies and little ringed planets. Stuffing her hands in her armpits, she grumbled, "Shoot, common anti-fairy drakes are the winners right now, Anti-Cosmo. See, my countypart could get hitched and land me with a pup any time now that we's got our adult wings. You drakes don't get it. You don't gotta get stressed thinking 'bout caring for an unexpected baby any time yet. Y'all only carry the kid for 13 days, I mean. It's damsels that gotta handle it the rest. I'm gonna die if she gets me a baby. I can't even take care a' myself right now. And pups last for the rest a' your life, you know… I ain't ready for that. Maybe someday, but it sure ain't here and now."

I put my head to one side. "I've never thought of it that way. All my life, I've been counting down the years to my adulthood, and now I spend my days counting the years until Fairy-Cosmo finds himself a partner. I think I'd enjoy learning to be a father. I crave that sense of living with a partner and nailing down a solid idea of how my life is about to go. I drift to and fro right now, biding my time, and feel as though I can't put down roots until I know my future honey-lock partner, determine when I'll have a baby, and come to know their inborn personality profile. When I look to my future…"

I paused.

"… It feels intangible. The openness fills me with anxiety. Perhaps you look ahead and see freedom now, followed by an unknown ball and chain, and it frightens you. It's the present I'm afraid of. The future shall bring me peace. I never knew my father and I've quite a rocky relationship with my mother, but when I have a child of my own, I look forward to bringing him along to ball games, fishing, and touring the universe. Perhaps I am blinded by my own sweet daydreams. I forget sometimes that raising pups can require a great deal of work and won't always be pretty cobwebs and moth wings. I thank you for your insight."

Anti-Wanda thought about this for a moment. "Huh. Hey, you gone and seen a soothsayer for your weave yet? Maybe you should. There's gotta be one here in Cedarcross. That might take the 'angst' outta the 'anxiety.'"

"I'll give it some thought." I didn't plan to. A soothsayer would likely only tell me what I already knew: that there were frayed knots in my karmic weave, that I'd find myself on a better path if I cut them out, and also that Anti-Coleen will end up working for me one day since that seemed to be her fate in multiple realities. She liked to remind me of that. Every time our eyes met, she would make a Scry me sign with her hand.

Also, soothsayers can peer into multiple realities. They can't determine which one you're most likely to experience in this universe, and I didn't particularly want any soothsayer - no matter how private they claimed to be - catching wind of the fact that I'd lied about my betrothal to Mona. It would only take one peek into one future for someone to hear the sound of my voice confessing the truth to Mona, or hear Mona flinging accusations at my face. There had to be at least one reality in which I confessed, and I didn't particularly want that information getting out.

Gumdrops, I thought next. If a soothsayer ever finds that I've spoken of treason with my mother, I'd be in hot water with the High Count too.

"At least then ya might know if you're gonna have kids," Anti-Wanda said, tapping a claw against her chin. "Huh. Guess maybe growing up in the Nest's another reason I worry about honey-locking. Dm. Venus can be a real [pin] about it. Some of my old colony broke her walls like a dozen times." She pricked her ears. Those tiny, adorably undersized anti-will o' the wisp ears. "Hey, didya know that only 25% of Fairies ever have kids before they poof to dust? Most of 'em don't have babies any time in their lives."

A cold, sickly cloud began to build inside my abdomen. "Um…"

I… hadn't heard that statistic before. I rifled through a few pages of my brain, fumbling for possible answers to questions I wasn't willing to ask. Fairies don't typically die young. Our race can't be killed by magical items, and in the cloudlands, non-magical items are still relatively rare. Modern wands have been corrected so the risk of jump-locking - or accidentally poofing yourself inside another person or object and fusing it into your own body - is practically nonexistent (though there was once a time when jump-locking was the greatest killer of our race). Few of us die from illness, so territory disputes, animal attacks, alien abductions, freezing, drowning, and mortal interference are our biggest threats these days.

(Well. And King Elynas did a number on the Earthside population, of course, but that goes without saying. The Milesian king singlehandedly eliminated nearly every Fairy who lived on Earth in his time. That was 540,000 years ago and I still shudder to think of it. 166,804 Fairies killed, the same number of Anti-Fairies, the same number of Refracts, and our population still hasn't recovered to even a third of our old number…)

Most of them were Ilisa's partners, you know. King Elynas is the reason why my people went underground. The will o' the wisps, I mean.

Never mind. Only 1 in 4 of today's Fairies end up reproducing?

That can't be right. I'd heard our population was dwindling fast, but surely the Fairies understand our race won't survive if only a fraction of us are reproducing? If we don't maintain a diverse genetic pool, we'll quickly become inbred and die out.

Did Anti-Wanda's statistic focus heavily on gynes, who were often killed by rivals in young adulthood? Was it perhaps skewed by the uneven gender ratio you see in Fairy World where 75% of all newborns are designated as damsels and only 25% are called drakes? And did she account for every subspecies? Will o' the wisp children, for example, have dreadfully high mortality rates due to sickly mutations in their genes. My core goes out to them, if I'm quite honest. It isn't my fault, but on some level… I wish there was something I could have done.

And what year had this Only 25% comment been parroted to Anti-Wanda? There was once a time, long before modern Eros technology, where tasting sexual passions all but guaranteed a damsel a rather painful death. It's thanks to the Eroses that our Seelie counterparts are all artificially forced into the yellow magic state when attraction is in the air. There hasn't been a single death attributed to "restriction of spirit" in almost two million years.

I scratched my forehead gently, biting my lip, but didn't comment.

What if Fairy-Cosmo chooses never to bear children? I… I can work around that, but common fairies by tradition are monogamous for a lifetime. Should anything happen to his partner young, then chances are quite high that he'll never take another. And my plan explicitly requires him to mate and activate the honey-lock on my behalf…

I felt grateful that I'd sent my letter, even though I hadn't seen Fairy-Cosmo here at Cedarcross. I did need to talk to him. I'd feel so much more stable, I think, once I spoke with him face to face. Perhaps he had a lover. Perhaps they'd even talked of marriage. It's awful, you know, when you can't start planning a future with a honey-lock partner you don't have. I tried to swallow my rising trepidation and simply moved the conversation on.

We continued towards the temple library, debating back and forth about our plans the whole time. Anti-Wanda's schedule, it seemed, was speckled with meetings and assignments that would keep her busy all migration. There were people to visit, documents to transfer to the pixies, and all things of that nature. We agreed that late evenings would probably work for both of us on a consistent schedule, though I did warn her I had an appointment tonight.

"Is there a place I can find you when you're done?" she asked. We were in the library to pick out Snobbish scrolls to study later. Anti-Wanda set her hands to her hips and looked about the rows of cubbyholes as if she expected me to crawl inside one and wait there for her return. I hefted the scrolls in my arms, looking around too. Apart from two dames at a desk who were on their shift as librarian, we seemed to be alone. I lowered my voice and flat-out told Anti-Wanda that my mother and I would be in the card room and not to worry if it looked like we were in the middle of an important game or conversation, because I'd likely be looking for an appropriate way to leave. Gambling houses aren't precisely my cup of tea. I'd declared vla, so Anti-Wanda had full rights to pull me away from anything and it wouldn't be deemed socially unacceptable. I was, after all, her obedient servant until I'd cleared myself of my misdeed.

When I told her the location, Anti-Wanda threw back her head in loud laughter. It was a hooting sort of laugh that echoed around the library. I stared at her, confused, hugging my scrolls until she regained her composure enough to tell me she had the "perfect outfit" to pick me up with. I frowned, lifting a finger. I don't think I've ever grimaced so heavily in my life.

"Ah-buh-buh! Don't you dare show up dressed in anything scantily clad… The Head Pixie is close with Anti-Bryndin, and if he suspects I'm stealing you away, he'll pass on the word. Our High Count will consider it a challenge."

Anti-Wanda hunched forward so far, I could see her wings. She blew a dejected raspberry at the ground between us. "Aw, you sure ain't a lot of fun… Anti-Bryndin can eat my toenails if he really thinks I'll ever wanna fly up to him and [be his dame]."

I coughed, spluttering spit. Several of the scrolls tumbled from my arms to the stone floor. "What?" I burst. The phrase she used in place of my censor is one that I shall never, ever repeat in all my days. I turned away, trying to hide my coughs in the crook of my elbow, but they turned to explosive laughter before I made it very far. Had she really just said that? In the library?

Perhaps it wasn't really as funny as I made it out to be, but at the moment, our innocent location of study combined with such a vulgar description of the specific act she didn't wish to perform knocked the magic right out of me. I fell to my knees, drowning in my giggles, and pounded my fist against the carpet. My laughter was infectious and soon Anti-Wanda had fallen backwards on her wings, clutching her stomach and laughing right along with me. Her laughs turned into howls and we were escorted out with our scrolls and two heavily blushing librarians. I think I stood for two minutes in the hall with my hands planted over my face, just trying to heave cooling magic through Cosmo's core until I calmed down. But when I pulled my hands away, Anti-Wanda took one look at me and cracked up again.

"Oh s-smoke, oh s-s-smoke, I really crossed a line, huh? Should I maybe not go saying stuff like that about our high and mighty counting guy?"

"Perhaps not," I told her gently. "But I thank you for the laughter… This was precisely the pick-me-up I needed after the dark and crushing curtain of my thoughts today."

"Pull back that dark curtain sometimes," she told me seriously, wiping a tear off her wild eyelashes. "You don't feel so scary to talk to when I know the way you laugh."

I tried to explain her joke to Anti-Lance and the rest of the colony, but with my fumbled censoring, it didn't quite land the same way. Anti-Lance hovered in silence with his hands in his pockets and the damsels looked at me uneasily. It wasn't until I was off showering that I was struck with the realisation that they didn't laugh at Anti-Wanda's joke because at its core, the subject matter referred to damsels being forced by their creche father to engage in behaviour they didn't want to. I ran from the shower to apologise to Anti-Lance for sharing it. He sent me out to apologise to Anti-Snowflake and Mona, and as I dried my hair in a towel, I very badly wished I could trickle my entire body down the drain in the floor and disappear. Mona refused to look at me.

It was funny when Anti-Wanda said it.

My mother summoned me an hour later. They'd exchanged their jumpsuit for a black dress and insisted I wear a blue suit they'd picked out for me. I did as instructed, smoothing every crease and using every button. I needed the good clothing if I wanted access to the card room. That, my mother insisted, was where we would find the Head Pixie.

They weren't wrong. The gambling hall lay deep in the core of the mountain, in that same vague space that wasn't quite Salalalyn's temple grounds but also wasn't too far away to visit while on migration. The cave had been done up into a lively place to be and it only took a few minutes of peering around to track down the drake we were looking for. Looking back on it, I never should have doubted. Few things attract a pixie quite like a money-hungry adventure in high stakes and probability.

There he is.

My mother and I lingered near the bar counter, pretending we were considering a soda or two. Our target lay on the far side of the room. The Head Pixie leaned over the gambling table, all his weight braced on his forearms (which ought to give you a clue how thick they were, and how tight his sleeves). Most of his ink-black hair had been concealed beneath his massive stocking cap of a hat, but two pointed tufts curled out in front of him, as they always did. I don't know if he styles them on purpose or if he wakes up and they stick that way. He wore full business attire. Grey, of course. I couldn't see well from this distance, but I could imagine his pupils carefully meandering across a roulette wheel lying in the centre of the table. I wondered if the Head Pixie bore a gem on his own tongue like Anti-Bryndin's citrine, or if the Seelie simply didn't do that since their tongues were a far cry shorter than ours.

His eldest nephew, Mister, clung to his side like a burr. One hand rested inside his suit jacket. Child, please… Starpiece magic doesn't work inside a sealed temple. Evidently Mister sensed me, because he turned his head. My wings stiffened up. Why was he looking? Did he know why we were here? My mother nudged my ankle with their shoe.

"Maintain dignity," they murmured.

"Frankly," I muttered back, "I don't know what gives an underaged pixie the right to venture down here."

"That's Sanderson. He's the retinue drone."

And that gave him permission to wander inside the gambling room? At his age? Why, he couldn't have been more than 15,000. If that. Maybe 13. Hmm…

Once I saw an opening, I squirmed my way through the crowd. Two Anti-Fairies I didn't recognize leaned back in their folding chairs, counting up wads of lagelyn. The yellow bills flowed through their fingers like liquid gold. "Yes, yes, excuse me," I muttered, edging around the table. My mother followed on my heels with dignity and grace. A pretty dame with sunset-coloured hair ran the table, though I didn't recognise her when our eyes met.

Sanderson's other hand was on his boss's elbow now. Presumably H.P. had been informed of the situation, but he chose to ignore us, still weighing his chances with the game. He had a mug resting near his hand. It had some sort of grid pattern on it along with words, though it was turned away from me just enough that I couldn't read what it said. The two Anti-Fairies paid no attention to me, but when my mother tapped their staff against the table's edge, both looked up in surprise.

"Head Pixie," they said, "do you have a moment?"

He glanced over at us and brought his mug to his lips. Cola, perhaps? I caught a glimpse of brown liquid instead of his preferred orange. I realised a second later that he had a collar pin. A citrine. Oh. Well, that answered that tongue-piercing question for me. The Head Pixie motioned for Mr. Sanderson to place another bet on the unicorn segment of the gambling wheel.

"Anti-Florensa. Anti-Cosmo. I didn't expect to see you here down in the depths of the caves. To what do I owe my excessive pleasure?" And, to me directly, "I didn't bring you flowers. Also, it's literally your fault that every flower in this temple died once I spent a night here."

I winced. Did he have to point that out? And would he consider us a pleasure for very long? While my mother was distracted, shooing the two Anti-Fairies counting their bills, I bobbed a bit closer to the Head Pixie. "Perhaps that rather juvenile curse I placed on you has gone far enough. Would you like the counter-spell?"

"Meh. I can take it or leave it; it's your call."

Again, my mother made a shooing motion at the other patrons. They looked at each other, clearly confused, but obediently scampered off. They weren't about to mess with the High Count's personal guard. The dame with sunset-coloured hair looked puzzled, but my mother made a firm dismissive gesture that I guess the dame didn't want to argue with. She pushed the Head Pixie's bet back towards him, locked up the remaining chips, and withdrew a short distance away. My mother waved again for her to leave. After a few seconds, the dame hurried off in the direction of the nearest chamber pot. I didn't blame her. I think I too might have taken advantage of a break if one was presented before me. I tried again to catch a glimpse of the Head Pixie's mug, curious out of boredom because I'm a walking contradiction. His fingers concealed the lettering. Once all the witnesses had gone, my mother lowered their voice and murmured, "We'd like to request an audience. I'm seeking information on behalf of my son."

The Head Pixie stared blankly at the roulette wheel. He didn't seem to register the question. "Dude. Are you two playing? I was having a good time."

My mother blinked. Neither of us had a reply to that. In truth, neither of us was highly versed in casino etiquette, and it evidently showed. Damsels run everything during migration season; I wasn't one and my mother had their own duties to attend to. I glanced down at the table. It had been carved of dark stone, etched with an assortment of swirling patterns… mainly tiny bats all the way around the lip. In the centre of the table lay a grid, marking out different mythical creatures and branding them all with numbers.

"I'll play you if the others don't come back," I said. I didn't actually know how to play roulette, but perhaps the offer would smooth his irritation. It's cruel to bet against Anti-Fairies anyway. All our wands are hooked up to a system called "credit." Very little money changes hands in Hy-Brasil and even the High Count and High Countess use special stamps and coloured ink to mark their purchases. Money is exchanged quietly behind the scenes in a way I still don't understand, because as a noble, I was born with an accountant to manage my funds for me. The only time I've ever needed to use any of it personally is when I'm in Fairy World. Gambling doesn't bother me. I can afford to lose a little. "How do I start?"

The Head Pixie snorted. "Never mind. The house always wins anyway. Just tell me what you're looking for." He leaned decently far back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and cradled his mug in one hand. With the other, he scruffed up Sanderson's hair. Sanderson tolerated this without a twitch. I regarded the young pixie in silence, hoping my mother wouldn't try to shoo him off, too. I couldn't imagine the Head Pixie would take that very well. I tried to keep my pulse steady. Every passing second left me wishing I could tear my claws across my chest. Perhaps I wasn't cut out for secrets and scandals in the political field. This scenario made me more nervous than I dared to say.

My mother gestured to me with a flex of their wing. "There's a rumour floating about that Anti-Bryndin may not hold the title High Count for much longer. From what I've gathered, you have quite a knowledgeable relationship with Da Rules. I don't intend to challenge my husband's heirship decisions, but I do seek information. Simply put, I'm looking into the inheritance rights of my son, just in case they should need to prepare for the unexpected. Can you define the laws in the plainest Snobbish?"

The Head Pixie looked between us and the roulette table again. He said nothing, but I could tell he felt insulted that we'd dragged him away from his play with talk of work and law. My cheeks flushed with ice. Nonetheless, he shrugged this off as Fairies do. Seelie Courters can get drunk off the belief that they have all the time in the world, I swear. "Are you asking me what Anti-Cosmo should expect to receive from Anti-Bryndin after he turns to smoke? The answer to that question will differ greatly from a question about what he can inherit from, you know… you."

I felt as though a fire burned against the undersides of my feet. Was the whole card room looking at me now? My mother stilled me by bringing their bo staff against the lower part of my back. "I'm worried they'll be overlooked," they simply said. "Are the inheritance laws for second marriages still in place? Nothing… peculiar has been quietly passed in a Council meeting?"

The pixie looked a bit more suspicious now, but still relented. "Where's your first son?" he asked, coiling one of Sanderson's cowlicks around his finger. "Your firstborn will inherit before your second child will. I haven't seen Anti-Bryndin attempt to pass any laws that would punish your offspring in favour of his own."

"Anti-Robin was disinherited," said my mother crisply. The rattle of dice and swish of shuffling cards all around us partly drowned out their words.

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"In the eyes of the law? Yes. Yes it does. In Hy-Brasil, 'lack of relationship' won't hold up in court, but something like 'received advance inheritance' does. Furthermore, you'd also need a witness to confirm that Anti-Robin knows he's been disinherited. If he's unaware, he can claim a stake above Anti-Cosmo's with very little challenge. He'll win."

My mother lapsed into quiet thought. I fidgeted my wings, growing increasingly uncomfortable now with both our conversation and with my own jealousies. Who was I, really, to demand inheritance above Anti-Phillip and Anti-Stacey? And what right did I have to demand it above my own brother? I wasn't even a firstborn child.

But the Head Pixie continued on, seemingly oblivious. "Current Hy-Brasilian law, as outlined in Traditions and Customs Volume 9 - the version of etiquette currently used by the Anti-Fairy Council to govern your land - states that the first inheritance is presented first and foremost to the firstborn child a drake has with his primary partner. The 'first inheritance' is also known by its Vatajasa name, saa-bikor. It refers to the firstborn's entitlement to a larger portion of inheritance that the other offspring receive."

He rattled all that off by pure memory. It's true, I suppose, what they say about pixies and their obsession for rules and order. They memorise these sorts of things with meticulous attention. Lifting his mug again, the pixie pointed two fingers at me.

"If Anti-Bryndin is his step-father, and presuming there are no illegitimate children I am unaware of, then Anti-Cosmo is fourth in line. He should still receive a fair inheritance. In Hy-Brasil, it goes Anti-Phillip, Anti-Stacey, Anti-Robin, Anti-Cosmo. You guys go down the line with all the kids of one partner before switching to the second, so Anti-Phillip would only be screwed if he has a kid before he takes the crown. In your culture, that would bump Anti-Phillip from heir apparent to heir presumptive and the little kid would be the newest heir. Anti-Phillip would get skipped completely. It's different in Fairy World. We go in circles and grant all the firstborns their inheritance first, then down the list. If the border hadn't shifted, the system would have been Anti-Robin, Anti-Phillip, Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Stacey."

I tried to follow all his words, even though they made my head spin. "So," I said, hesitating on the word. It hissed against my teeth. I clutched the front of my shirt. "So just to be clear… I'm low in the pecking order either way? You wouldn't suggest I expect much from my step-father if he goes to smoke?"

The Head Pixie shrugged. "He's High Count. I suggest you ask him directly. For all I know, he'll split Anti-Fairy World in four pieces and grant one to each of his heirs. I'm only sharing what I know of the law." He leaned back in his chair. "Is there anything else you need to know? I'd like to try a few more of these games before the card room shuts its doors tonight."

I jolted upright. I'd just read the words on the Head Pixie's mug. They were, perhaps… mm. Indelicate for my fair sensibilities. Not nearly as funny as Anti-Wanda's joke, somehow. Perhaps the mood in the air ruined it all. I drew my handkerchief from my pocket and ran it carefully around my mouth, trying not to shake. The pixie watched me, his face dull and blank, and took another slow sip of cola.

"I see," said my mother, tilting their head. "I can't express enough how grateful I am for this information. You see, Anti-Cosmo has worked long and hard in school for many years and I would like to ensure they remain in good standing someday when both Anti-Bryndin and myself have passed on. When it comes to damsel voices… Anti-Fairy World lacks equality. It often weighs upon my mind. Are there any clean and legal ways you can think of that would allow a damsel like me could leave a decent inheritance to my child? His sire has gone to smoke. I'd like some say in his future without his step-father's interference."

They tried to keep their questions of legalities as innocent as they could. No implication of taking Anti-Elina's life. Not here, in a temple full of Anti-Fairies. I don't think the Head Pixie caught on to their endgame goals, but my anxiety didn't believe me. My core beat about a thousand ticks a minute. I pressed my handkerchief more tightly to my lips, flustered and panicked and wishing for an excuse to leave this place- all while watching Sanderson watch me. The Head Pixie frowned.

"That's fair. It boggles my mind how cruel Hy-Brasil can be to its damsels when they outnumber its drakes 3 to 1. But no, there's very little you can do. Written wills aren't legally upheld in your nation. The only way to secure an unquestionably legal inheritance is to marry another drake. But even then, Anti-Robin Jr. still inherits first. I guess if you have two daddies, you can take the name of one and the stuff belonging to the other. It's funny."

"Hmm…"

I touched my mother's wrist. "Mother, let's leave him. I think we've taken enough of his time with our interruption." And to the Head Pixie, "That's all we wanted to know, thank-"

I didn't get all the words out. My mother blocked me with their arm. Evenly, low-voiced, they said, "I'm rather intrigued by your mug, Head Pixie… Perhaps you can share with me the story behind it one of these days.

H.P. blinked and looked down at his cup. I bit my lip and lifted one hand to my face. Though it blocked my vision, it didn't blot out the words I had already seen printed there: Freak in the sheets with the grid-patterned image of a spreadsheet neatly printed all the way around. Aha ha… I may not know much about Fairy courtship methods, but even I understood what it implied. I was not such an indoor child that I didn't know what a yidreamu was for. Sanderson and I both flicked our eyes at each other without moving from our positions. I'm not certain he knew what my mother said, being far younger than I was, but the Head Pixie seemed caught off guard. For once. He blinked at my mother, his eyes no longer squinted. He lifted the mug in his hand.

"While I'm flattered by the offer, I'm not that drunk."

Drunk enough to break monotone and emphasise a word, I thought, but didn't say so. My mother, however, played with the shoulder strap of their dress and fixed him with the same longing look that I'd seen them shoot pretty damsels a dozen times before. "Well, don't forget, Head Pixie… I was there when you took your anti-pixie form. I've been witness when you sing.."

My skin prickled. Oh. Had… Had I just heard those words correctly? I played them back in my mind, flipping them between my hands, scraping them with my brain. The Head Pixie took his counterpart's shape and…

Oh gods… That makes so much sense. Most Fairies would go tingle-fritzy when trying to hold another form in that scenario, and those flustered feelings would shatter their concentration. But we all know how quiet and stubborn the pixies are… Are they able to maintain alternate bodies long-term, even in the most private of romantic moments? The thought sent shivers through my veins and utterly captivated me. Was that all true? Had the Head Pixie sung with Anti-Fairies before? And perhaps even… enjoyed the encounter? Should I be writing this down as a possibility for Blonda and I to play with someday?

I floated there in silence, watching the Head Pixie's lavender eyes travel down my mother's neck to their nearly bare shoulder, which displayed that thin, tempting strap of their black dress. I swear I saw a little lump bob inside his throat. He brought his attention to my mother's face again, but looked a little more flushed in the cheeks than before. Pixies may be subtle on the outside, but I could tell. I had not forgotten that glimpse of my mother somewhere, sometime in his life that I had seen while draining his karma in Faeheim.

"I'll consider it," he said, keeping his voice cool and calculated. The noise of calls, cards, dice, and roulettes danced all around us, echoed by excited chatter. "I'm flattered by your interest, Anti-Florensa. There was once a time when I was searching for myself. I would have been completely onboard with the opportunity to experiment. But for personal reasons, I can't accept your offer right now. Perhaps we can talk about this at a later time." His eyes wandered in my direction. I stood there, my arms stiffly at my sides, and tried not to make it obvious that I didn't know where to look. I watched a thin smile curve around his lip. "But if you want an inheritance out of me, it isn't going to happen. I can't do Anti-Bryndin dirty like that. You're married. Plus, if I form a bond with you and Anti-Bryndin both, you might rope me in as a third parent so I can adopt Anti-Cosmo one of these days. I'm not in the market for an intern right now. Ha ha."

I shook my head, lifting my palms to indicate that my mother's forceful flirting hadn't been my secret plan. The Head Pixie moved his palm to Sanderson's head. Sanderson glared at me above the edges of his shades, smarting with jealousy at the mere thought of a world where his uncle favoured me like a son, while the Head Pixie ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. Then the Head turned his attention on me. He nodded towards the distant doorway. The tail of his hat flopped sideways behind him, which made the glittery star charm on the end sing a little chirp.

"By the way, Prince Eastkal was in here looking for you about twenty minutes before you showed up. I'm not sure whether you'd rather visit or avoid him. I just thought you'd want to know he came looking."

"Oh," I said. "Um, thank you. I'll talk to him again when I have the chance. Say… You didn't happen to notice my fairy counterpart wandering about, did you now? Fairy-Cosmo? I sent him an invite should he like to visit Cedarcross during migration, but I may have neglected to inform him where he and I could meet."

"No prob, dude. But I'm pretty sure pixies are the only Seelie Courters you'll find around here tonight."

"Anti-Cosmo!" shouted a damseline voice, and I about jumped out of my skin. I coughed on my own saliva. When I turned my head, I spotted Anti-Wanda flitting through the gambling hall towards me, her buck-toothed smile wild and unmistakable. I excused myself hastily, disentangling myself from my mother's gaze, and let Anti-Wanda usher me back upstairs to the library for our late evening study time. A timely exit. I didn't mind it at all. I'd rather spend a few hours with Anti-Wanda tonight than a moment more with the Head Pixie flicking his eyes across my mother's bare shoulder.

She brought the scrolls she'd been looking at while I was in the card room. I lit the candles, then mixed us both a little tea with sugar and set her cup carefully on a rose-patterned saucer. Every time Anti-Wanda stretched or adjusted her position, I glanced at the teacup and debated whether or not it would be rude to nudge it away from the table's edge. Actually, I did this with the candles too. Some damsels, I swear, just don't keep track of their wings when they turn around.

"I don't understand more than half these words," she admitted to me. "We didn't read Snobbish back at the Nest. All my learning's just what I've picked up from visiting places like migration… or the couple bits of brain that I was born with."

I took the first scroll from her hand and spread it on the table between us. It was a long one of yellowed parchment that poured its tail off one end. Anti-Wanda reached out to pin the top of it down with her hand. I frowned. "Well, let's see… This here is a map depicting the three regions of Hy-Brasil across multiple planes of existence. How familiar are you with Fairy World colony geography?"

"What's geography?"

I explained it to her as best as I could, drawing my finger here and there along the map. It was extensive, covering as many of the known planes as it possibly could. Some of our information had gaps, but that was only to be expected the higher up the ethereal path you went. Plane 14, also called Red River Range, is a desert that will kill Fairies fast through dehydration and strand an Anti-Fairy by boiling their magic alive. It is not without good reason that Fairies and Anti-Fairies choose to live in the Deep Kingdom while the Refracts hold the higher lands for themselves. Scary World and Hairy World on Planes 16 and 17 have their fair share of flora and fauna alike that will kill you if you so much as let down your guard.

There's not a soul alive who's made a dent in the ever-present darkness of Plane 18. Plane 19 is heavily populated by Refracts, and they have strong feelings about cartographers probing around their land without following proper etiquette. Plane 20 is made up of swamp and filled with bubbles that can grant you access to alternate worlds. Travellers lose their sanity there. Plane 21 is filled with ice and Plane 22 isn't much better… We call the latter Merchant's Gambit for good reason. It's all too easy for a skyship to be knocked off course and never seen again.

Through all my explanations, Anti-Wanda floated beside me, watching me with a furrowed brow. I couldn't help glancing at her every now and again, watching the way she bit the end of pegasustail. When I spoke of Plane 15, I explained how it had long grown ragged with incredible winds. The weather changes its landscape to such a degree that few people can stand to live there and even fewer maps can remain accurate for long. "Does Munn do that?" Anti-Wanda asked, pressing the tip of her claw close to mine. "I mean… Is he real upset or something? He's the Sky spirit, after all. Does he whip up those winds?"

I tilted my head. "You might not be wrong, darling. It's been said that each of the zodiac spirits holds high power over one of the High Kingdom planes. In mediaeval times, our ancestors often spoke of the spirits as powerful forces who devised a most challenging path between the mortal realms and their home on Plane 23. No mortal has ever reached that plane while alive, nor Plane 24 when dead."

Anti-Wanda traced a circle on the map. "I wonder if Munn is lonely."

"Munn has Saturn for company, my dear. They create lightning spirits when they kiff-tie. Each time you see a storm, it's a sign that they're together."

She glanced at the ceiling above us then, following the smoke trails that curled from our two candles. "It's been a real long time since it rained in the cloudlands. I ain't never felt rain on my skin before."

Nor had I, though that hadn't stopped the Eros Nest from spritzing me with their sprinklers during my imprisonment. I watched the smoke too as we leaned over the map together. "Yes," I said. "It's been 800,000 years since Sunnie last took a medium. I think I could count on one hand how many times it's rained since then; I wrote a paper on the frequency once for school."

"Maybe those are the times Twis gave Sunnie really good [cuddles]," she said, and I almost lost every fleck of composure in my body. My wings seized up- I- I- I couldn't keep them folded in. She didn't say it accidentally, either, but while holding eye contact the whole time. Oh… Bother it all.

I used the hem of my shirt to wipe my forehead, then pressed my forehead to the library's window bars. When a few minutes flickered by and I didn't move, Anti-Wanda floated up beside me with her teacup and saucer clutched in her opposable toes. I don't really know why she insists on eating like that, apart from the fact that it keeps her hands free to pick at her skin and hair with, but the way she moved her leg was incredibly distracting. She leaned her elbow on the ledge beside me, loudly slurping at her tea. I wasn't looking at her, but she maintained the best possible eye contact she could muster.

"Anti-Wanda," I told her calmly, "your words are extensively indelicate… I'm afraid I don't know if I can continue our private lessons. In fact, I may need to report you to your father and ask that he speak of the spirit bonds on my behalf."

"Well, if you gotta," she said, turning her teacup upside-down on her saucer. "It don't hurt my feelings none. I'm always in trouble with my Daddy… He's always trying to get me ta sit still and hush up so I look nice at the table with Anti-Bryndin. And yeah, I get that. I'm a camarilla member now and I gotta dress up nice. But I'm real surprised at you, Anti-Cosmo."

"What?"

"I've heard how you talk when you're out with guy friends. Y'all noble drakes are all the same. Behind those purty white fangs, you've got a dirty, dirty tongue."

I glanced away again, tugging at my cravat. I hadn't removed it since dressing nice for the gambling hall, though I must have made quite the rumpled picture, floating all flushed by the window in nice clothing like this. I ran my fingers through my hair, stalling for words and cursing my own inabilities. I simply tried to focus. I focused on the soft fuzz of my hair, on the dark colour of my fur, and I tried to keep my wings flapping so they wouldn't stiffen up again. When I finally had words, I turned to face Anti-Wanda and lost them off the tip of my tongue. Her rosy pink eyes skewered a silver stake in my chest.

Her eyes…

Anti-Phillip had given her that virus when she was summoned to the camarilla court. I can't get rid of that man anywhere, can I? My loud-mouthed step-brother, in line for inheritance, my future prince; he flirts with Anti-Saffron and once held Anti-Wanda in his arms…

I sighed and jerked the hem of my coat down past my waist. "I don't like to speak with damsels the way I speak with drakes, Anti-Wanda. I have my own indelicate words to answer for, and the way I address my friends is not the way I should be speaking to a pretty dame. I am, after all, a gentledrake of noble heritage."

"You think I'm pretty?"

That response slapped me up the cheek. It wasn't the answer I'd been expecting. My brain stalled. Then it skipped. "Um… I think you're a lovely dame." That seemed like the safest response. "I am so terribly sorry if you were offended by things I have said in private conversations with those I am closer to than you. That is, after all, the danger of listening in to words that aren't directed towards you."

"You don't gotta pretend you ain't fun around me," she said, playing with her upside-down teacup. She brought one toe to its surface, twirling it around and around on its saucer with the screechy noise of glass on glass. "There's somethin' real cute about it. Y'know, there's a whole lot a' drakes who pretend they ain't got feelings. I don't mean to cause trouble or upset you or nothin', but I like catching a little listen when stuffy noble guys like you talk about falling in love."

She thinks I'm cute?

"Well," I stuttered back, my face blazing like a glacier now, "I- I really don't know anything about love, per se… It's so difficult to study and nail down a concept like that, you know what I mean? I'm only 160,000. I daresay I could write an essay on the concept, but I've always struggled to parse my feelings out. I don't really look into that sort of thing. The words, I mean. I, um, just don't know."

Anti-Wanda shrugged. She straightened out her body, lowering the teacup and saucer in the process. With both clutched securely in her toes, she started fixing her hair with the shiny, chipped claws of her hands. "I really didn't mean anything by it. I just thought, like… maybe we've got something in common, y'know? I'm not real uptight and you ain't neither. Kasa d'sõchu."

I want to be your friend.

So what did that mean? I said nothing in response. My fingers twitched against my legs. I lowered my eyes. "Anti-Wanda, may I take you to roost? I'm not sure I understand."

Anti-Wanda glanced up, her lips pursed. Her glowing eyes twinkled like little gem-encrusted chunks of a splintered geode. She had paler scales than I did, but not by much. The lantern light brightened her color further. Dark, wispy blue hair dangled above her shoulder. She had faintly curly hair, though only in little ringlets at the tips. I don't think she brushed it that day, seeing as little ratty bits stood out to me, but something about her rugged authenticity shone through her fuzzy face. My cheeks flared up, but I stayed straight, holding my arms like they were made of tin.

"Yeah," she said, evasive and soft. "Just… Let's talk later. I gotta think my feelings through."

I pressed my lips together, snowflakes gathering behind my tongue. "That's… that's not traditional in the common world." I bit my lip after saying so, trying not to press her on it. She didn't want my "corrections" breathing down her neck. But really, frequency is crucial. Feelings are adaptable. You can always spend a few minutes at roost again at a later time when feelings progress.

Anti-Wanda sighed, staring down at the table. Her tangled hair flopped against one shoulder. "I just wanna talk about learning stuff right now. Like, it's on my list for today. I gotta do this."

"Right. I understand that."

I gave her the rest of the lesson with my hand covering most of my face, peering through my fingers at the map. Anti-Wanda watched me do it, sipping her latest cup of tea. My veins pulsed with icy droplets. Once I realised neither of us were absorbing anything I said about geography, I fumbled the scroll back to Planes 8 and 9 where the majority of Anti-Fairy World sat. "Here," I said, tracing the outline of the High South Region with my finger. "Do you know the name of this region in Snobbish?"

"It's Navy."

"No, not the colours. It has a name predating those."

Anti-Wanda shrugged. "Y'know, I didn't know for ages that there even were different regions in the cloudlands. In the Nest it didn't matter. In Vatajasa, we just called it something like 'Land of things with no materials.' Or am I wrong on that?"

I stared at the map a moment longer, silent and tired. "No," I said. "You're right. We all belonged to one land once. We were categorised as a single people. Emigrants from the land of Elphame on Planet Elrue called this place the Fairy World colony long, long ago. Or, well… I suppose calling them "emigrants" is a cruel way to look at it. There were some emigrants of that land, of course… Those being the people who settled the Red Retreat colony on Jupiter. That's the planet Jay Rhoswen once called home."

"Where'd Anti-Shylinda come from? My daddy says she's one of my great-great-great-something grandmas."

"Anti-Shylinda was a Solitary fae who bonded with Shylinda: a Sluagh damsel who fought in the Sealing War." And Anti-Buster is playing a dangerous game in speaking out loud about your heritage, even if it's true. The High Count already got on his case once about it.

I thought of what my mother and the Head Pixie had said of Anti-Bryndin and my inheritance. And… and I looked at Anti-Wanda for a moment with my head to one side. Anti-Buster was Anti-Bryndin's elder half-brother. And Anti-Wanda was older than me, so undeniably older than Anti-Phillip. I might not be a threat to Anti-Phillip's inheritance…

… but Anti-Wanda was.

Anti-Wanda hadn't been born an iris, but one could not deny the nobility in her ancient bloodline. Regardless of your political beliefs, regardless of the spats that sometimes fly about disputing the shift in the Blue Castle from being a home of scholars to the home of royalty, there is no denying the fact that Anti-Wanda is, by blood, a lost princess. And that was a very interesting thought.

Mona told me no one truly wants Anti-Phillip as the next High Count. As a low-level noble, I'm in no grand position to challenge his birthright. But Anti-Wanda… Our prince certainly wouldn't be laying hands on Mona again if Anti-Wanda took his role and banished him from Hy-Brasil. Oh, wouldn't that be nice?

"Slew-ah?" she asked, repeating my word.

"Sluagh, yes." I waited for Anti-Wanda to acknowledge this, but she only looked confused. "The Snobulacs kidnapped the Aos Sí from their planet and forced them to fight in the Sealing War. Shylinda was one of them. Whimsifinado, Sparklefield, and Fernfire are the other three surviving names we know. When the war ended and the Snobulacs no longer had use for them, the Sluagh were dumped in a fringe cloudland colony around Planet Earth."

"Just abandoned after the war? Just like that?"

"Yes, and such a horrid thing to do. The Aos Sí, along with our own ancestors and the ancestors of the Refracted, collectively became known as the Sluagh. Sluagh was a title, not a single species. That's important. This is where Fairies tend to blur the lines of common ancestry. They believe individuals among the Aos Sí race literally broke apart to become the Sluagh, not understanding - or actively denying - that they alone are descended from that people. Our kind were born of smoke. We were shapeshifters, capable of infinite smoky forms."

"Okay…"

"The Chimera who lived in these cloudlands took in the Sluagh refugees. Twenty families mated with the smoke-based species whose descendants would later become the Anti-Fairies. That's where our family trees point today."

"Including mine?"

I exhaled a cloud of silver magic and started to roll the scroll together again. "Yes, that's right. Every Anti-Fairy is descended from one of those twenty Chimera families. You're a descendant of Laelaps, the hunter. She partnered Sunflicker of the Sluagh. I'm a child of Cadmea, who mated Sablewood. During the classical age, our Chimera ancestors were bitter rivals. Laelaps is the hound who caught everything she ever chased, and Cadmea is the fox who could never be caught. They were locked in eternal paradox long ago." So saying, I forced on a grim smile. "I daresay you and I get along much better than any of our ancestors ever have, hm?"

Anti-Wanda held out her teacup for a refill. As I poured it, she shook her head and said, "Golly, Anti-Cosmo… You've sure learned a lot from going to school. I won't ever catch up to ya in the field of learning. In the Nest, they always said I'm too stupid to bother teaching me any of that. I don't deny I might be stupid 'cuz I sure don't have the patience for big projects and long hours in a classroom… but at least I know there's Anti-Fairies out there who know things. Don't gotta memorise things when I'm friends with all the experts. I mean, I'd feel a whole lot more worried for us if only Fairies went to school."

I didn't know what to say to that. I held the wrapped scroll in my hands for a moment. Had I just been called an inspiration to the Anti-Fairy public? I wasn't sure if that was Anti-Wanda's intent, but if nothing else, she'd at least acknowledged my wisdom in this world.

Perhaps someday, if the stars aligned, she might put in a good word for me should the time ever come for Anti-Bryndin to give a noble a promotion. Anti-Wanda was a member of the camarilla court. It couldn't possibly hurt to stay in her good graces.

Imagine if she DID one day take Anti-Phillip's place. Oh, she'd be a powerful ally then…

"You speak Vatajasa quite well," I reminded her as she drained her cup. "Far better than I do, as a matter of fact. I have a thick High Southian accent."

Anti-Wanda shrugged. She clicked her teacup back on the floating saucer and held it out to me once more. "I can speak it, but I can only write a little bit of it. I ain't even sure I can write my own name in Vatajasa without messing up."

"What is your Vatajasa name, darling? If you don't mind me asking, of course." It would have -pri in it. She was a firstborn twin.

"Tas-pri d'vixil."

"'Whisper of the flower,'" I translated aloud, topping off her drink again. "Oh, Anti-Wanda, that's beautiful… I, erm… I know your relationship with your mother is complicated, but she gave you a very lovely name before you parted ways."

"What's yours?" she asked, honestly curious. My hand jerked, stalling the tea pouring from the pot. My wings tensed up. I stared down at the teapot in my hands. It was my favourite one: dark green and blue, painted with a row of zinflax conifers along the bottom and the Aurora Fairyalis dancing across the top. It had a black crown for a lid and a pretty foot shaped like a flower. My claws drummed against its sides. Well… We hadn't grown up together. I suppose she'd never heard it before.

"Er… All right. Promise you won't laugh, though."

Anti-Wanda blinked at me and lifted her teacup to her lips. "Well, that's a funny name. What's it mean in Snobbish?"

What? "No, that's not my given name…" I inhaled, closing my eyes as she took a sip. "It's Pag-sün d'eskel."

Anti-Wanda snorted hard and spewed tea across the table. It splattered across my face and shirt. I double blinked, suddenly soaked and not sure how to react. "Sorry!" she gasped. "Oh gee, I shouldn't laugh. You even warned- Oh gosh, I'm real sorry! I just din't… I mean, you're dressed all fancy tonight and I really din't s'pect you'd have a name that was so… so…"

I looked away, drumming my claws against the teapot and trying to keep my tongue bitten and silent between my teeth.

"No, no," she said, still grinning widely. It put all her flat anti-wisp teeth on display. "It's cute. Really. You oughta keep it."

"You wouldn't be the first one to mock it," I muttered back, gripping a damp patch of my shirt away from my body. Even in the Eros Nest, surrounded by Anti-Fairies who used their Vatajasa names, Anti-Cinder - Ki-sat d'ingtolm - had told me I was better off sticking with my Snobbish one. Anti-Wanda walked me to the loo and helped me rinse the tea from my shirt and face, apologising all the while for laughing at me. It didn't lessen the stinging blow. She smiled anyhow. I felt blank, staring and staring down at my shirt as I wrung tea out of it and into the washing basin. I don't know why I'd thought she wouldn't laugh. Had I misjudged her personality?

Do I actually know her as well as I thought I did? Frankly, the most nervous thought in my head was the fear that she might approach me someday and request we take our vlakrina relationship to a deeper level after all when I was least expecting it…

Anti-Wanda and I got back to our lessons, this time focusing on the eight different types of modern Anti-Fairy wands. We spent another hour and a half together until our candles burned low, but as soon as I'd walked her back to the Blue Castle's colony room, I went searching for my mother. It was growing very late, but I couldn't postpone my question any longer.

Ten minutes later, I found a crowd gathered in the sugar bar near the gambling chamber. Were they watching a fight? All I could hear as I approached was the chant of "Reach, reach, reach, reach!" and I could make no sense of it. The energy field tingled with an uplifting swell of bells, so at least I sensed no cause for alarm. Upon closer inspection, a pixie nymph sat in the centre of the circle, straining with all its might in an attempt to turn over. Its pacifier lay beside it: obviously the object of its intense attempts to roll. The Head Pixie, dressed down in loose-fitting clothes, sat cross-legged on the floor nearby and seemed to be the one leading the chant. Was he drunk? He had an empty cola bottle on the floor beside him.

I had only three seconds to take the bizarre sight before the hexagonal little pixie managed to flop onto its belly. The crowd threw their arms high and erupted in cheers. I think the Head Pixie thought he was at a saucerbee game watching the scoreboard calculate a particularly complicated shapeshifting execution. Is this what the Seelie do for fun? I thought, scanning for my mother. Anti-Fairies don't learn to roll until we've shed their exoskeletons. Our newborn blubber forms in cubes.

The dimly lit room smelled of soda syrup and fruity sugar. It wasn't quite my scene. I managed to find my mum refilling drinks at the shiny bar counter, though they had the face of someone who didn't know how they ended up in this position and who was likely only sticking around on the off chance they could snag another moment of the Head Pixie's time. They still wore the lacy black dress from earlier this evening. I was only too grateful I couldn't see a hickey on their exposed neck left there by sharp pixie teeth. I couldn't stomach the thought of his large hands all over their body. I stomped right up to them and clapped my palms on the bar's countertop.

"Mother," I said. I didn't bother to lower my voice. The whoops of the drunk crowd half drowned it anyway. "Why did you name me Pag-sün d'eskel? You told me it's a name I should be grateful for and that I shouldn't envy Anti-Bryndin for what he has, but I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

Mother arched a brow at me, pouring a tall glass of cherry soda for a drake who couldn't have been much older than I was (though he smelled like he didn't bathe half as often). "Why? Sün because you were my second drake and all the rest because you were conceived under milbark trees. Was it unclear?"

"Yes, but why is that my name? It's highly embarrassing. Everyone laughs."

My mum replaced the cork on the cherry soda bottle and returned it to a cabinet, which they locked. Once the drinks were safely away, they propped one hand on their hip and gave me a long look. "Anti-Cosmo," they said. "It's tradition to tell Anti-Fairy pups they were sired by the colony's creche father. Do you know why I didn't follow this practice? Although I didn't point him out to you, I always told you your father was another drake."

I tilted my head. "I never thought about it, Mother."

They smiled thinly, eyes half-lidded, as though they knew some incredible secret. Leaning across the counter on folded arms, they told me, "Anti-Bryndin wants what Anti-Robin had."

"I don't follow…"

"Let's skim."

Mother found a replacement damsel for the bar, took up their bo staff, and led me outside. I don't merely mean outside the room, but rather out of the temple itself. The sentry on duty looked just as puzzled as I was, but didn't stop us.

The stars were in the low-light point of their cycle, absolutely. We didn't speak. We couldn't speak, focused only on our echolocation to guide us through the dark. My mother didn't follow the curve of the canyon, but rather skimmed above the higher trees along the ridge. Confused, I followed. It was a long fly - a good ten minutes - but since they didn't raise their wand, I didn't raise mine either. When we reached a small lake shaped like an egg, I thought that was the end of it. But Mother flew across to the river that poured into it and led me partway upstream. The river came from the mountains, and all was rock and black and dull.

Finally, we came upon a wide patch of river where three tough, gnarled trees with silver trunks stood rooted against the rapids. Their long tendrils swirled in the water. I squinted against the spray. What? My mother looked about, nodded, and turned back to me.

"Here," they said. "This is where it was."

I glanced left and right. Every time I came to Cedarcross on migration, I did what everybody does and followed the low belly of the winding canyon. Why waste energy flying high and competing with the wind if you can take shelter in the ravine below? I think perhaps that Anti-Kanin and I may have departed from Cedarcross this way once, trying hopelessly to shave a few minutes off our travels, but the exhaustion you suffer this early in the departure isn't really worth it. Sure, three trees in the river made for a lovely sight, but it wasn't pretty beyond that.

"Erm, I'm not quite sure what you mean…"

"Hold out your hands," Mother instructed. When I did, they plopped their staff across my palms. I looked at it, then at my mum again. My inability to comprehend the meaning behind this gesture must have been scrawled all across my face, because they sighed.

"That's the branch Anti-Robin and I roosted from when you were conceived. I preserved it magically even after all this time when the tree and its children have died."

I almost dropped the staff, my immediate instinct being to rub my hands clean on my coat. But instead of doing that, I swallowed my revulsion and stared down at the smooth wood. Now that my mother had pointed it out to me, I could see evidence of the charm they'd cast on it. The staff didn't look old or cracked at all. I frowned. "So this place… is special to you."

Mother took my chin, lifting it with their fingertips, and stared me in the eye. "Anti-Bryndin still wants what your father had. No one refuses him because he's High Count. His rank alone grants him status, but he doesn't pleasure damsels the way that Anti-Robin could. I'll always regret that I didn't take advantage of Anti-Robin more. When we had your brother, we didn't know each other well. We only met on honey-lock nights, each spaced five hundred years apart. I was young and naïve back then, favouring damsels and believing no drake would ever please me. While you can't resist the honey-lock, I convinced myself I would never find enjoyment in it, so I didn't for a very long time. I felt as though I might as well accept the prince's marriage proposal. Anti-Robin, I believed, would never satisfy my needs."

I tipped my head to one side. A light breeze was out today. It ruffled my ears. "Was Anti-Robin popular with damsels in secret? Granddad Anti-Gonzo always describes him as an embarrassment because Anti-Robin grew up in a traditional Fairy World estate. Uncle Anti-Hawk drank himself silly a few migrations back and told me quite plainly that he and my father were grown drakes before they experienced sociosexual behaviour. Uncle even told me the first time he ever saw a naked dame was when he was nearly 250,000."

My mother shrugged their wings. "I don't think I'd describe him as 'popular.' Popularity never seemed to bother him. He simply played the role he sought to in this world. When your brother was conceived, I was blinded by the promise of living in the Blue Castle, wealthy, under Anti-Bryndin's wing. I accepted the prince's offer before I truly realised what I'd be giving up. The prince may have lit my eyes, but he was not a drake I fell in love with. It wasn't until later, here at the river, that Anti-Robin made love to me far better than Anti-Bryndin ever could." My mother gestured to the three trees in the river and to the woods all around us. "This is where I fell for him. You're the symbol of Anti-Robin's passions. That's why I named your brother 'Thousand kisses of the birds' and you 'Conceived under milbark trees.' You aren't Anti-Bryndin's child. You are Anti-Robin's."

"I understand," I said, though I wasn't sure I did. Why couldn't they have named me 'Child of rushing water' or 'Mountain which cries a river'? I handed back their bo staff. Mother traced a claw along it. It shed a few glowing sparks.

"When I die," they said, "I would be honoured if you chose to carry this. I've built a legacy as the High Count's personal guard. It's possible you will be asked to take the mantle after me. Maybe not. I may not be able to craft a will that will be upheld in Hy-Brasil, but I've spoken with the Head Pixie and he suggested I try anyhow. I'd like my staff to go to you. Not your brother. Your brother inherited everything your father's side of the family had, and he took those meagre riches and left us for the anti-pixies as soon as he was able. I don't want this to go to Anti-Poof. He may be a reincarnation of my sister, but he is not my son. Everything I possess will go to you, Anti-Cosmo. Especially my staff."

"I don't want it. You hit me with it!"

"I suppose I did," Mother said, taking it back. They sucked their lower lip for a long time. I floated beside them, saying nothing. Then they turned and looked at me again. "I shouldn't have done that. I was scared of you."

"Me? I was a pup!"

"I know." Her gaze dropped to her hands. "I'm like you. I'm… one with the wind spirits. And I can see your karmic weave. I always could, even when you were a child and it wasn't solid yet."

Right. Because of those spirits in their heads, my brother Anti-Robin could read the past. My mum could read the future. I blinked. "And… you were frightened of me?"

Mother nodded very slightly. "I never trained as a soothsayer. I can't read all of it, but what I can see has always concerned me. You're a very tricky Anti-Fairy. Someday you'll succeed with those plans of yours to bind the honey-lock to your will. You yourself, of your own genetics, will father a pup who acts as host to his counterpart. And even when Fairy-Cosmo dies someday… I've seen in your fate that you won't."

"What?" A shiver raced down my wings; I floated slightly back. I hadn't even considered immortality before! I mean, yes, I brought it up to Mona once when I was eight, and yes I've played with a few theories, but chasing the cliché bored me. This was new. "Mother, what do you mean by that?"

"Crafty drake," Mother said in genuine approval. "I didn't see the ways, but I know that you in physical form outlast his dust. And for a long time, your destined path was to use physical aggression against those around you, outright disregarding the conflict resolution part of sociosexual behaviour. I think it's because you almost went to Spellementary, raised among Fairies from a young age. I don't know what you did to shift your fate, but you did. And… I'm sorry I was afraid." They stared at the fists clenched around their staff. "It isn't easy to pry meaning from a karmic weave. Even experienced soothsayers can mix the readings up between worlds, lifetimes, and planes. But it did seem that when I hit you, it reduced the chance you would hit me back someday. I clung to that."

I frowned. Reaching out, I clasped their hands in my own. "I will never hit you, Mother… I don't intend to ever treat you harshly."

With a sigh, my mum brought their palm to the back of my hair. "You've grown into a fine anti-fairy, Anti-Cosmo. I've had a lot of struggles and I haven't always shown it, but I'm proud to be your mother. And I hope you'll be proud of me someday, if you can forgive me for the smacks.."

I laughed. And without hesitation, I flung my arms around their neck and kissed them loudly on the cheek. "Oh, how could I not forgive you, Mother dearest, when I myself know the struggles of a spirit-bonded mind?" D3 notwithstanding, my past life as Ilisa notwithstanding, it didn't change the fact that in Anti-Fairy culture, I was thought to have a spirit in me too. I rubbed my head against their cheek. "No harm you've ever done me is half as bad as what a young Fairy inflicts on his rival sibling. My smacks no longer sting, and if it leads to a relationship repaired and a happier life, then of course I shall forgive you!"

… Perhaps it was a foolish thought. My mother cut back, but they never did stop hitting me, and I never stopped forgiving them. It's true, you know… Anti-Fairies really are slaves to their instincts. Flicker an apology our way and we'll fall for it time and time again. It must seem strange, because in a Fairy's eyes, half our words are pretty lies in pretty dresses. We dance around the truth when it might insult, dodging it, painting it. It's when we're alone, when we touch, that we become the most honest creatures in the world.

I know how the public paint me nowadays, but I am not quite the witty, surefooted ruler they wish to think I am. Underneath my laughter and crowing exhilaration, I'll forever be an anxious lad with a sincere and gentle soul. Though my mother may torment me, I could never raise a claw against them. From their breast I nursed as a pup. They read novels which cling like glowing stars to my longstanding memory. Our bond is something no Fairy could ever understand. Our relationship is one of those messy bits the Head Pixie always scoffs at. Casting his father from his life was so easy for him, and he never knew his mum.

The Head Pixie sees my mother through the limp in my wing and the stutter of my tongue. He doesn't see the teacher, the linguist… the shamed, scarred warrior of Saturn who was thrown aside by the spirit and has spent a lifetime clawing their way back up. The Head Pixie isn't there for every apology I hear when Mother scruffs her hands beneath my hair and pulls it forward around my neck, whispering their sorries as they bend their head. No… H.P. is far too stoic to understand how hard I cry each time my mum pulls me close and folds me in their wings.

"You don't have to forgive her just because she begs," he told me just a week ago, in fact; we were up in Silverclaw Lake on business.

"Well, I can't ignore her either, now can I? She lives in my colony." (My mother still uses singular pronouns in public.)

"Either put your foot down or boot her to the curb."

"That isn't how we do things, darling," I retorted, sipping from my vanilla shake. "You also get upset with me for still partnering my exes. To you, it's completely inappropriate. To us, it's expected we'll maintain our relationships for life even when dynamics twist and change. To cut someone from your life entirely is shocking and repulsive, to say the very least."

"Look. I'm no stranger to a little smack between the wings here and there. That's the Fairy way of raising kids. But the stuff she puts you through - the shoving you down, cracking that rod against your hands when you struggle to defend yourself - that's all illegal in Fairy World. I hope you realise that."

"Let's please not discuss it. I have no bruises and she leaves no scars."

And the Head Pixie looked at me… Looked at me very hard with such pity in his cold lavender eyes that I shrivelled like a flower, almost shaking underneath my proud and lifted head.

"We're fae," he told me then, reaching across the table for the milkshake near my hand. "Our skin is elastic and we bounce when we're thrown. Of course you don't bruise easily. Bruising's not the point. You freak out when she flies towards you. You'll only talk to her when political duties demand it."

"She isn't a bad person."

We had to stop talking then and sip our milkshakes, avoiding our own thoughts and that 'b' word - bad - floating in between our eyes.

I don't want to fight about it. Frown upon me if you will, but I love my mother. I will always love my mother. Their apologies are genuine every time they're said. Whether they hold themself to such promises is between them and the nature spirits. But the honesty in their trembling shoulders, that scrunch of their fingers in my hair, is all I need to know. No one outside my situation has the right to criticise my choice to keep them in my life.

I stopped complaining of my given name so often after that.

Life went on. I kept watch outside the bathing room while Mona washed up and changed into her pyjamas. She looked lovely in royal blue, notwithstanding the fruitless tangles in her hair. I tried to initiate a few kisses while we roosted together, but the passion simply didn't spark between us. Not with Anti-Lance and Anti-Blade both clinging to the branches of our array, both of them silent in anticipation of tomorrow morning. I hugged Mona close to me instead, drawing lines, circles, and squares on her leg through the silky fabric of her pyjamas.

Anti-Blade did not retract his challenge against Anti-Lance. They were both ready for it the next day, already out there stretching their arms and wings in the arena by the time the onlookers came filing in. Salalalyn's temple hadn't been built with a fighting arena originally, but her temple had grown so decrepit over the years that no one really knew the original purpose of the spectacular room. Personally, I suspect it was once a ballroom. The mosaic patterns on the floor, though old, reflected carried a swirling design that suggested great movement. True, a tiled floor likely didn't match that purpose, but I couldn't think of a single other option for it. A theatre room, perhaps?

Either way, there was more than enough room for a large gathering of people. Two sparring creche fathers wouldn't draw much of a crowd, but they didn't need to. I stood on the balcony, leaning against my folded arms. My twitching wings said everything my heavy tongue could not. Mona leaned beside me, but slightly farther along the balcony bar than I was. She stood with her hands pressed against her lips. Watching Anti-Blade flex his arms and wings.

I did not particularly like how dark the whole room looked from up here. Torches licked around the outside walls, but the centre of the ring stayed dark and cold. Waiting for sparking wands to light it up as the fight began.

I wish I knew how Mona felt, I thought, resting my cheek against my hand. I hadn't spoken to her about the challenge all morning. I didn't know what to say. Should I be standing with one arm around her, comforting her, smuggling her out of Cedarcross, instead of staying here to watch the match? A swift glance around the upper level confirmed I was far from the only onlooker on the balcony. Judging from the places they chose to stand, several people seemed to be here in support of Anti-Blade. I rather suspected they were people he knew from the Anti-Sundive colony he'd grown up in. The large, square-chinned drake was the brothers' father, Anti-Halberd. None of the servants could spare the time to attend, which meant Anti-Wendy wasn't here, but I saw Anti-Wanda lingering with several other members of the camarilla. She had her hands full of paperwork, but that didn't stop her from clinging to a sandwich with her opposable toes. I couldn't tell what kind.

After a few more minutes of stretching, Anti-Lance and Anti-Blade took their positions on opposite ends of the ballroom. I scooted slightly closer to Mona. To my great anxiety, the Head Pixie walked up next to me and joined me at the rail. He watched for thirty seconds as the brothers drank water and fixed their clothes, then said, "I thought Anti-Fairies didn't pick fights."

"Beg pardon?"

He shifted his eyes to mine, brows raised. "Your mom got to ask me questions. Can't I ask a few of you?"

I looked away, tightening my teeth. I could feel every bead of sweat trickling down my cheek. "W-well, um… Our fights tend to go down differently than yours. We don't showcase our physical strength.

"Oh, that's right. Your people study combat magic in the Anti-Fairy Academy."

Well, that was one way to put it. The Anti-Fairy Academy was a public program that offered every class imaginable, from cooking to hexing to birdwatching. Anti-Fairies of all ages could opt for classes any time they chose to. The schedules were flexible and everyone understood that they would receive the value from the system that they put into it. Some Anti-Fairies never took advantage of the programs at all. Any type of education requires a dedicated mind, and some prefer to play young and study later. Anti-Lance and I had both studied abroad in Fairy World. Neither of us had studied combat magic there. I stared down into the ballroom, clenching my fingers around the railing.

"What's your stake in this?" the Head Pixie asked, watching me watch them. He'd brought about a dozen of his pixies along, I realised then. All of them were young, and some of them played so dangerously with the rail that I worried they'd slip through and plummet to the ground. I don't know why he brought them to an Anti-Fairy migration… Last I checked, the Seelie don't particularly like to be around us when we're gathered together in bulk. Perhaps he simply didn't have anyone else who could watch them. Fortunately, he seemed to recognise the danger of our height as well as I did, because he kept pulling them back by the wings when they started to get restless.

"My stake?" I repeated. "Ta. Well… How much do you want to hear?" I drew my wand, pointing the rear end first at one pacing anti-fairy, then the other. "That's Anti-Lance Anti-Sundive. He's my creche father; I've known him since I was a juvenile and we were roommates all through lower school. His brother, Anti-Blade, is vying for control over the colony. Should he win, he'll have claim over my betrothed." I gestured to my right, where she still stood anxiously peering down at the buff threat that was Anti-Blade. "You remember Anti-Saffron, I'm sure. She dined and bathed with us when you pulled me from the Eros Nest."

"I remember."

Anti-Blade, still pacing, made the first lash. The darkness lit with bright blue light; a whip of sparking energy spat from his wandtip and slapped near Anti-Lance's feet. Anti-Lance pulled away from it with a sharp beat of his wings and readied his hand, but didn't return the blast. The Head Pixie studied this, saying nothing, until Anti-Blade made a few more jabs. Anti-Lance finally returned one, to no avail. Then the pixie glanced at me.

"Are you up here in the seats because you're a noble?"

"What?" Anti-Lance fired a second stream of magic at Anti-Blade, but this time, it took the form of a rope and latched around his leg. Anti-Blade only had a split second to process it before Anti-Lance yanked it back, yanking Anti-Blade off his feet.

"If they're fighting over who gets your girlfriend, why aren't you down there? Or did you hire that buff dude to fight on your behalf?"

"Anti-Saffron isn't my girlfriend. She's my betrothed: my fated match." I winced, leaning back from the railing as Anti-Blade landed a hit on Anti-Lance that made him shout. The smell of electricity filled the air and made all my hairs stand on end. "She's, um… she's part of Anti-Lance's colony right now, as am I. She'll go with whomever wins this match." I pointed with my wand again. "They're fighting until one knocks the other outside that circle on the floor… or until surrender."

Anti-Blade summoned a glowing mallet from the end of his wand and reared back to strike. Anti-Lance whipped him sideways with a blast of wind. "There's a decent amount of room down there," the Head Pixie said, watching Anti-Blade tumble across the floor. He nearly crossed outside the circle, but skidded to a halt exactly at the edge. "So long as they're careful to stay inside, won't the anti-fairy with the larger magic pool always win? They can deliver stronger blasts more often without needing time to recharge."

I tried to suppress my eye roll. "Who's to say? Does the fairy with the largest muscles always win the fight?"

He mulled over that as we watched Anti-Blade roll back to the centre of the sparring field, flaring his wings. He must not have disagreed with me, for he stayed silent apart from the occasional warning to his pixies that they needed to sit still and hush up. In the arena below, Anti-Blade and Anti-Lance exchanged sparking whips and coloured beams. I winced with every noisy clash.

"And they do this without shapeshifting?" the Head Pixie asked me.

"Yes, that's right. If you wish to follow the Traditions and Customs book, Anti-Fairies are only permitted one alternate form. That ruling still applies in combat."

"Interesting…"

Anti-Lance held his own well enough, but this didn't stop me from trembling when Anti-Blade smacked him upside the head and sprawled him out. Anti-Lance's wand skidded outside the circle. I clapped both hands over my mouth, wings pumping. Panic spurred me into tears. Was he all right? Beside me, the Head Pixie pressed one thumb against his hat to lift it farther from his eyes.

Anti-Lance, get up… Please get up…

Perhaps I really should have sought out Mona instead of watching this. Should I leave? Right now? I clenched my wand between my hands, biting the shaft until my fangs left dents in the pumice. Anti-Blade stalked forward, lifting his wand to cast a sweep of air, but Anti-Lance rolled over with a grunt. He gripped the mosaic tiles with his claws and fiercely beat his wings against the wind. Anti-Blade tried again with a tidal wave, but this time Anti-Lance dove to one side. He snatched up his wand without crossing outside the circle's boundary. Anti-Blade barely had time to raise a shield before Anti-Lance whipped around, cracking down on him with the full power of a glowing mallet. The bubble-shaped shield cracked beneath the pressure. Anti-Blade cried out and went down as the shield imploded. Anti-Lance pulled back his arms and swung the mallet.

FWOOMP!

The blow sent his brother flying across the ballroom. Anti-Blade shot beyond the circle boundary, hit the wall, and bounced off with a squeak. Thump he went on the ground: core shaken but relatively unharmed, I think. Congratulations broke out around the ballroom. I seized the Head Pixie's arm and wiped my brow, ready to faint.

"He did it! Anti-Lance, you won! You won!"

Anti-Lance lowered his mallet to the floor and leaned his weight against the handle. He didn't even look singed by the sparks. I waved to him, still clinging to the Head Pixie's forearm until I realised I was doing it. I let go. The Head Pixie propped his elbow on the railing and we watched Anti-Blade push himself up on shaking hands. I felt like I could walk from here to Plane 23. I spun to Mona, who looked at me with I think relief in her eyes. No longer did we wait in high anxiety for an answer. I embraced her, and she embraced me back.

He won.

Once Anti-Lance left the arena, I met him at the bottom of the stairs and practically threw myself into his arms. He stumbled back. I don't think Anti-Lance felt as impressed with his victory as I was, but I couldn't get enough of it. It was all I could do not to beam light particles from every pore when his father drifted down the stairs to join us. Anti-Halberd patted Anti-Lance stiffly on the shoulder, then went off to find the anxious Anti-Blade. Oh, I didn't envy him right about now. I could only imagine how scathingly my mother would view me if I were to lose a challenge like that.

"So?" I asked Anti-Lance, tugging on his arm.

"Anti-Blade is no longer welcome as my follower drake," was his calm reply. "My father sent him after me and I couldn't lift a finger in protest unless he challenged me first. He attempted an upheaval and I'm within my rights to dismiss him. He won't be bothering me anymore for a long time."

"Oh mate, that's brilliant," I began, but Anti-Lance fixed his eyes on mine.

"Would you be my follower drake, Anti-Cosmo?"

I agreed at once, clapping my hands. I don't know what the Head Pixie thought when he came down the stairs with a dozen pixies trotting after him, but if he saw me exchanging acid with a drake I'd already given my favour to, well… That's none of his business anyway. He has enough companies to manage as it is. I spent the rest of my night doggedly at my creche father's heels, and Anti-Lance never even nipped my ears for straying too close. And when I did see Mona, I assuredly gave her the biggest hug- again. She smiled back at me, too overwhelmed to say much at the time. I understood that. I could hardly find the words to express myself either.

"Isn't it wonderful?" I tried anyway. "I'll confess, Mona, that I wasn't sure whether or not Anti-Lance would win!"

"I'll cry my congratulations."

"Yes, very good! Oh gods, my anxiety… You know, I couldn't be any happier now if Lohai bore a litter of healthy candles here in front of me. He won…"

Two evenings later, Anti-Wanda found Anti-Lance and I in our colony's reading room. It sat down the hall from the roosting area. The room was small and private and didn't have many shelves… and certainly none that blocked the vision of anyone standing in the doorway. That door had a black curtain to divide it from the connected roosting room, but that was it.

We had very little warning; I hadn't realised she planned to track me down when I was delayed in arriving for our tutoring. We were on the sofa. Anti-Wanda hovered in the arched entry space, her hands on the walls to either side, and surveyed the two of us with lifted brows. O-oh. I don't think the book in my hands hid much from her view. She didn't gawk, but she may as well have. I cursed the lantern that sat on the tea table beside us.

Once she explained her presence, Anti-Lance excused himself quite quickly to use the showers. Anti-Wanda drifted closer to the sofa waited until his signals departed entirely from the energy field. That same stupid field betrayed my flushing with the noise of a beating drum. My ears pressed flat against my head.

When the coast was clear, Anti-Wanda turned on me… with the most ridiculous buck-toothed grin smeared across her face. I pulled my book closer to my nose and pretended not to notice. She waited. In slow motion, hair by hair, she leaned her head close to my shoulder without ever changing her expression.

"Soooo…?"

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest idea what you're implying," I told her, rereading the paragraph I'd been staring at for the fourteenth time.

"I saw the rest a' your colony out playing bocce ball in the inner courtyard. How'd it go, you and Anti-Lance havin' the place to run about with all just yourselves?"

"It was lovely. Thank you." I flipped the page, figuring that since I was struggling so much with my current one, the next might just clear things up for me.

With her chin in her cupped hands now, lashes fluttering, she asked, "Didja forget about our tutoring? Or didja do something to tick your crechepapa off, so now you've gone apologising and I'm your second vla instead of your one and only?"

Groaning, I sank into the sofa cushions and pressed the book's pages up against my face. This made it entirely impossible to read the words as I certainly wasn't getting any lantern light, but I refused to be moved from my position. "Anti-Wanda, if you don't terribly mind, I am embarrassed. Give me a moment to myself, I pray, and I'll be with you when I've regained composure. You're making a ruffian out of me."

Anti-Wanda wouldn't stop giving me that… that… infuriating smirk. "Didja sing for him?"

I knew her well enough by now to recognise she would only keep badgering me until she got her answer. And so, in desperate frustration, I smashed the book shut before my nose and blurted out, "As much as I'd like a solid relationship to blossom from this, we're taking it slow for now! Anti-Lance doesn't have any inclinations towards romance- not involving me or anyone else, and while I don't understand it, I intend to respect that. We didn't go any farther than our usual evening routine, only this time, his shirt was off! There, I said it. Nothing else happened, so let me alone a moment. I'll be with you when I'm able to face you without embarrassment again." I looked away, pressing my knuckles to my lips even though they did nothing to conceal the flush spreading across my nose.

Anti-Wanda wore a grin like the anti-fairy in the chicken cordon bleu. I could see it through her voice. "Well, y'know that counts as singing with him these days."

"It does not."

"Counnnts! You really oughta get out more, bug."

My chest swelled until my wings were shaking. The strokes I'd exchanged with Anti-Lance tonight meant nothing to him. Nothing, really. Nothing but our usual routine. I didn't count it as intimacy, nor did I wish for Anti-Wanda to spread word around that it had been anything more than what it was. I turned on her again, our faces so close together that our effervescence mingled and our crowns nearly bumped. My nose nearly bonked against her teeth. "It does not!"

"If his shirt was off, it counts."

I stared at her, the fur rising on the back of my neck until it had fully bushed. "That makes no sense! Why, by that logic, I'd have sung with half the Castle by now. Including you!"

She snickered, never once losing that stupid grin. "Three times with me alone, but who's counting?"

Horrified, I shoved her off with my feet. "Anti-Wanda, of all people who should be able to discern the difference between everyday sociosexual behaviour and honest passion, I expected you to be one of them! You haven't told anyone that you and I have sung, I hope? It isn't true! We're avuuzi!"

"Anti-Cosmo, I'm just bein' a tease." She nudged me with her elbow. "Everyone knows it don't count 'til your domes unlatch. I was only playing. I'm giving you a hard time because you didn't show up when we had plans tonight. Made me all sad. Had to come and make sure you weren't dead."

I continued glaring at her anyway. What gave her the right to speak that way to me? She'd walked in on a noble in the midst of acid habituation with a dear friend and hadn't had the decency to excuse herself. I could still taste Anti-Lance's saliva crackling in my mouth, and she still seemed to insist I jump to my wings and cater to her every whim. If that's what she desired, she should invoke the vla. Not sit here with her perverted comments, I swear…

Anti-Wanda rolled her eyes and gave my knee two pats. "H'okay, I'll fix this right. Let's take it to roost. Tell me how you really feel."

"Gladly."

I did exactly that… but I left my shirt firmly on. At roost, I pulled her body close against mine, even when her sweater scratched my cheek. My relationship with Anti-Wanda was avuuzi tinted with vla. I made sure she knew it. Undeniably. My hands were firm, pressing deep against her damseline curves. Anti-Wanda didn't fight against me, but I kept a tight hold of her just in case. She wasn't wriggling out of this.

I explained my frustrations, spelling them out with the placements of my hands against her skin and assuring her my anger wasn't longstanding. I carried no grudges. Anti-Wanda, as it turned out, actually did know the right sociosexual touches to make in response to my stung feelings. I think it was simply the shock of a vla proposal that had left her confused the other day. She lay her hands against my shirt fabric, pressing it to my skin with utter calm in her fingertips. She caressed her palms along my cheeks. She walked her fingers down my arm. She touched me in all the places she needed to and did so in all the right ways.

The whole time, she tolerated my grumpy attitude with grace and poise. I don't know if I felt "better" per se when we dropped from roost back to the floor again, but I at least felt as though I could stay right side up without hyperventilating. Some days, I had to consider that good enough.

I fixed my rumpled dress shirt, which had become untucked in my hanging upside-down, and spent a moment too long fumbling for my monocle. The cord had fallen behind my shoulder. Anti-Wanda glanced in a nearby mirror and realised then that her pegasustail was off-centre. She started to pull it down. "Hey, by the way, you know that fairy prince guy? He was lookin' for ya. I just saw him wandering around before I came down here."

"Oh, Prince Eastkal is always looking for me… I'll go see what he wants when I can." I really should, actually… I'd abandoned him in Faeheim while he was injured and asking for nothing more than the chance to thank me, I'd had a small panic in front of him in the hallway, and I'd ignored him when the Head Pixie told me he was seeking me out days ago.

Of course, we must be honest… the prince likely only wanted me so he could demand I track down his anti-fairy counterpart for him again in this busy migration scene. Highly inappropriate. Either he couldn't be bothered to sweat while flying about or he felt that all Anti-Fairies looked alike. I made a face in the mirror at the thought, adjusting my shirt buttons. Anti-Wanda blinked and looked at me as though she thought I were making the face at her. She smiled. Her claws coaxed a curl of hair around her ear.

"Well, I thought ya were real good it… The way you touched me."

"What do you mean?"

"At roost. It felt good."

"Felt… good?" Did she mean the settlement? Her words played on repeat in my mind, stalling and rebooting several times in a row. Was I wrong about her after all? Did… did she not know how sociosexual behaviour works? My mind went blank. I stared right through her her rosy eyes, not even sure what to say. I stuttered out a sort of thank you and itched behind my neck.

No one… had ever told me, in words, that they'd enjoyed the physical act of touch like that before. Anti-Poof valued my strength and companionship as his elder cousin, and had confessed on more than one occasion that he saw me as a reliable brother. That had made me feel pleasantly, bubbly cool inside my chest. Mona liked my kisses and often whispered her admiration for my brains. Anti-Lance reminded me on the regular that he enjoyed our friendship, too. Anti-Wendy hadn't been secretive when she'd admitted she'd "waited a long time" for me to express my feelings for her, and she'd even coaxed me to challenge Anti-Binky for leadership of his colony. How very sweet, actually… that both the twins had spoken their admiration with me rather than letting touch do the talking for them.

I didn't think a compliment from Anti-Wanda would knock me in the chest, but it did. My face smarted like ice chips. I looked away, running my fingers through my hair. You know, I should go see Mona… We'd barely spoken earlier that day.

Anti-Wanda slipped her claws from her hair and turned. I waited for a question to dance within her eyes, but saw only mischief sparkle back at me. She said something, maybe something else, but I didn't hear a word. It clicked. Her expression. Her invitation to meet me up at roost. My face flooded with- with- I was just shaking. If my wand had been at my hip, I'd have whipped it out there and then.

"Why, you… Taking advantage that way! You said it doesn't count while we're clothed! I'd never have agreed to this if I'd realised you would interpret it as more than what it was! That's deceitful and underhanded and- and- and-"

I stuttered to a halt when Anti-Wanda innocently swiped her tongue around her mouth. I don't think she meant anything by it… I just hadn't realised until just this moment that she'd done up her looks for the evening. Her lips were thick with gloss and for a moment, I stuttered to a halt and could only stare at them. They sparkled in the lantern light, turning from blueberry into sapphire.

"Yeah-huh?" she asked me. Her lashes fluttered, thick and black like spiders' legs.

"… I like that about you," was all I managed to say. My cheeks cooled until they nearly froze. Reaching up, I grabbed the collar of my dress shirt and lifted it to my mouth. One of my feet kicked behind me, wrapping behind the other. "I just- Oh, gods. A-Anti-Wanda, you have on you a devious brain that I would so love to pick at someday. Um… Thank you, I think, for your pleasant words about me. But, ah… don't expect our lips to touch any time soon. I don't anticipate advancing to that stage for quite some time."

She giggled, pressing her knuckles against her teeth. Her head tilted to one side. One shoulder popped up beside her cheek as she laughed. Loose blue hair trickled around her like a picture frame. "Aww, ya never fail to be just as adorable as a crab cake on rye, do ya, hun? H'okay, I'll quit my teasing." Her eyelids cracked open to slits, then widened further. Her smile dipped. "Oh. Hey. Uh… I hope I didn't really make you uncomfy? Was it too much?"

"N-no…"

"It sure looked like you was good. I mean, you was leading."

Tears blurred my vision. Could I deny that? I tried to croak out another few words, but all of them died in my throat. I flattened my palm to my mouth. My knees trembled, bumping together. Oh. Oh. My flush spread across my entire body until I had to turn completely away and grab the sides of my head. Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

This was all wrong. I couldn't have feelings of attachment for Anti-Wanda. At least, not in front of her. Not while under vla. That would only complicate matters dearly. Not to mention, I had a betrothed and she had a boyfriend. My panicked brain tried to tell my core that none of the feelings rampaging in my blood were legitimate, but my body had its own ideas. The fur bushed around my neck. My fangs pressed flat against the roof of my mouth. Ice froze the magic in my veins.

I stumbled with limited dignity out of the reading room, found the nearest washroom, and yanked the curtain shut- just before my wings gave out. Anti-Wanda called my name, but (Thank the spirits) didn't follow. I gasped aloud. In desperation, I unsheathed my wand and lashed it through the air. Just a test. I needed to see it. I tried to summon the first object I could think up: a blue cupcake with black frosting and white sprinkles shaped like skulls. A single spark fizzled from the tip. Nothing happened. Of course. Of course. Stupid… redirected… energy… filling my body with thoughts of…

Why do I feel this way? Why is it all hitting me right now, in a single smacking burst?

I clutched my hair in both fists, grinding the heels of my hands in my eye sockets, and let out a single sob. Then, with my back against the rocky wall, I slid all the way down until I sat on the floor. My pointy knees jabbed in opposite directions. My opposable toes squeezed into fists. The Water-blue ring on my hand pressed against my forehead so hard, I felt certain it would leave a mark. Did I deserve to wear this ring? I played Mona's name across my mind, calling up images of her thick black hair, her soft brown coat, her pink-white wings, her love of animals, her alliterative words, her tender hands…

My thoughts rebounded, smacking the feel of Anti-Wanda's touch back against my memory. I still felt her chilly, scraped-up hands gliding down my sides as we settled in at roost. Why? And how could I process all these thoughts in a way that was both Zodii and inoffensive to Mona, who'd begged me to swear off other dames?

It's just, I hadn't felt this, um… I don't… Ah, I'm terribly sorry, but for lack of a more delicate term, this cold and bothered a few moments ago when Anti-Wanda and I had literally been an inch apart (or less), upside-down with our skin all but touching through our clothes. But by Tarrow's blade, I felt it now. The fuzzy sensation crawled across my skin like butterfly kisses, drawing blood and burrowing deep inside my sense of self.

I coughed, maybe laughing. My tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth, tracing over each retracted fang. Oh gods, they'd retracted… It doesn't get more obvious than that. I'd never been this turned on in my entire life. What was I supposed to do with this feeling? Squash it? Encourage it? Laugh? Were there tricks to make it fade away? How much time was left before I surrendered to my desires and threw my life in an entirely unplanned direction?

My hands closed around my upper arms. I rubbed my shoulders, tilting back my head. I'd have done it, you know. If I'd arrived in Cedarcross a week or two earlier, at the height of my reckless energy period rather than the downfall of it, I'd have grabbed Anti-Wanda's hands and spun her around and kissed her neck and sung with her until the last possible minute before our respective creche fathers called us back to roost for sleep. It wouldn't have mattered that Mona had asked me not to touch her. Sometimes I don't listen. I'm a mess.

There isn't a doubt in my mind. While in my high-energy state, I'd have kissed the moles along Anti-Wanda's arms and teased her with a nuzzle of my head against her chin. If she'd desired an intimate touch with me, why deny her that? I'd have slid the pieces of her clothing away one by one and draped them like ornaments behind me on our roosting bar. I'd have curled my talons into the warm fur of her stomach while I hugged her from behind and allowed my breath to tickle her ear. I'd have nipped affectionately at her neck and blissfully blitzed her until her giggles turned to purrs and squeals. Yes, I did just use the vulgar 'b' word. No other term described my yearning quite so well.

I… I'm more than this. I swear, I'm more than my messy feelings. I'm a good student. I honour the nature spirits. I look after a genie. I- I just don't understand how that accursed dame can continually steal my intelligence and turn me into a stammering buffoon… Yet sometimes when I look at her, my attraction wobbles like a spinning top? It's like… like I fall in love because I feel I know her… and gods, how I know her…

I've never felt a tug like this when I spend my evenings with Mona.

"I'm more than this," I whispered, sinking into my shoulders. I dug my claws into my hair. "No. No, please. I'm more than my base instincts. I'm more than my animal blood. I'm more than my rampaging sexual desires. I am in control, because I am more than just a bat!"

This was so, so wrong. Not my feelings. No. No, my uncontrollable feelings were perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of. I understood that. But every follower of the Zodii teachings in the entire universe would have screamed at me if they could see me now. Feelings this powerful don't flutter around anyone on accident. We're never given feelings we aren't meant to address.

I had strong affections for Anti-Wanda. It was my fate. It was decided. I ought to follow my urges and live out my night the way destiny instructed me to. I should run out there and beg her to roost once again so I might express these newfound feelings. To hide them would be a lie drenched with miscommunication. Could I let her walk away believing I only saw us as a Stage 4 relationship when my pounding core longed for the caress of her mouth on mine? I ought to surrender to my urges, like an Anti-Fairy should.

So why didn't I? Especially while wracked with the sensation that if I didn't find a happy outlet for my energy, I would literally burst?

… I was just scared.

Yes. I think that's what held me back. Because if I'd already found in Anti-Wanda what I'd yet to spark with Mona… I didn't know what I would do next. Leave her? Leave Anti-Wanda? Neither? Both?

Oh gods, I wanted her. I wanted her careful touches in hidden places, her claws scraping through my hair, her tongue begging entry to my mouth, toes scratching at my pouch. I wanted her. I wanted to tangle my claws in the back of her thick blue hair, clutch her breasts against my body, feel out the curves of her hips, the coil of her tail, the nip of her teeth. I… I wanted it. I wanted it bad.

Mona didn't make me feel like this. The spirits don't give us any feelings they don't want us to experiment with.

Maybe it's because I passed my childhood in Liloei's lamp, or maybe it's the Ilisa in my brain, but I say, I'm not all that wonderful at being an Anti-Fairy, am I? No… Rather than pursue my delightful interest, like literally any other Anti-Fairy would, I spent most of the following day in the reading room, whimpering on the floor unless I absolutely had to attend a meal or be seen with anyone. Oh, I waited until Anti-Wanda left me, of course, and I assured Anti-Lance and Mona that I was doing all right and simply wanted some time alone. I kept the façade charming on the outside. I brought Lohai's lamp in the room with me, but other than her, I needed to shut the world away for a time. I needed to enjoy these last few moments I wasn't flushed with wild urges and obsession. I needed to enjoy the fact that I hadn't yet made choices I might regret. I still wore my betrothal ring. And I hadn't betrayed Mona yet. Not yet…

Rhoswen knows I wanted to hold Anti-Wanda's gentle body against my own, this time without our clothing on and proper, but the fact of the matter is, I'm a coward deep inside. I spent so much time on the ground with my arms wrapped around my ears, my core thumping a cloudlength a minute in my chest.

Gods, I'm so bloody stupid. Anti-Wanda doesn't care for me. Why had I looked her in the eyes and misinterpreted her intentions? Why would a toothrottingly sweet treasure like Anti-Wanda want a smoking disaster like me anyway? Shrivelled and awkward and a shy, stuttering mess who can't even lead a colony… Oh, wow. I'm nothing.

No, I AM something. I'm disgusting. Disgusting and pathetic. Anti-Wanda only looked my way in order to take pity on me, out of obligation. She can do better. For crying out loud, at Cracklewings she'd had a boyfriend she fawned over, whom she defended even in my misplaced outrage. Have you seen the bloke and his shiny black hair? How am I to compete?! Bloody Darkness, I hate myself. I'm a disaster on wings. Just look at me! I can't even get a damsel to like me unless I switch betrothal rings behind Tarrow's back.

It hurts to be this close to heaven. It hurts more than it would if I were far away. I know exactly what I am. I'm a could-have-been heir… a traitor to Her Glory Cadmea who took on a dragon form… a poor student… a failed attempt at a genie breeder who couldn't keep a litter of candles alive in a box in my own room… a failed attempt at a soulmate… a failed attempt at a creche father… a failed attempt at a follower drake… a poor excuse for a son… a liar… a karma thief… a nymphomaniac… a will o' the wisp in an anti-fairy's body…

Smoke, I'm never going to amount to anything…