(Posted February 20, 2018)

Full House

In which Julius participates in his first (and most likely last) study abroad experience in Fairy World, and uncovers the tale of Anti-Dusty Anti-Fairywinkle

I am fire.

No Anti-Fairy ever, ever does what I am about to do. Principal Winkleglint is not of my colony, and I have no right to approach him to speak. Especially not on a matter like this. He's an authority, and I? I am a foreigner, a student, eight years old, and a younger brother. My single claim to fame lies in the green eyes that declare my noble lineage, which itself is only a sprig off the Anti-Coppertalon branch by my mother's nature of being Anti-Bryndin's third wife.

But I won't stand for this cruelty.

The school secretary granted me entrance to Winkleglint's office, either because she assumed my intent was to swim through the portal home to Anti-Fairy World for lunch / recess break, or because my obvious frustration encouraged her to pull away and not ask too many questions. My hand was no longer in my pouch, but I kept Saturn's ruby lizard clenched in my fist. Saturn's mastery included boundless Energy, fiery passion, and both emotional and physical strength. If there was one nature spirit whose blessings I needed to call upon right now, it was him.

When I pushed my way in, I found Winkleglint sitting at his wide desk, examining the contents of some sort of small chest that appeared to glow with every known colour in the universe at the same time. Or rather, the box was open on the desk, and Winkleglint's eyes were lacking pupils. He sat slouched, head on his folded arms and eyes glittering and gleamed with rainbows. That must be a "time lockbox", then, which played old memories in vivid detail so long as you held the proper access key. Quite useful in court cases.

I'd heard of these boxes, though hadn't figured out yet how to get my hands on one of my own. It instantly vaporized when he noticed me. A simple wooden key bounced across the desk in its place. Winkleglint blinked his eyes back to their normal scarlet tint.

"Julius?" he asked, straightening in his seat. I could have sworn the stringy pink hairs combed around his ears bushed out with unease as he took me in. He was indeed a gyne as Mr. Thimble had said- the dark brown freckles all across his face were proof enough of it.

Leaping onto a nearby chair, I slammed my fists against the top of his desk. Saturn's lizard clinked hard against the polished wood. "Principal Winkleglint, I wish to file an enormous complaint."

He sighed. Placing a single finger to his cheek, he leaned across his desk. "My utmost apologies for behaving the way I did in front of a pup. I was at fault and I assure you, it will not happen again."

"That's not why I'm here!" I slammed my open hand down again. "It's about Mr. Thimble. He doesn't like you. He's a slave teaching here at Spellementary, and I do wish you would let him go. Drones yearn to be free. Hasn't he worked for you long enough?"

Principal Winkleglint watched me silently, and then made a steeple with his fingers. "Julius, you are an anti-fairy - a young one, too - and this matter is beyond your comprehension."

"I'm old enough to recognise domestic violence!" Tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them. I wiped them off with my sleeve.

"Domestic-" Winkleglint stopped. He blinked. "Oh… I see what the problem is."

"Do you now?" I snarked. "What? That you're not but a manipulative, abusive hog intent on crushing those devoted to you beneath your heel like an unwanted jackalope in the herb gardens?"

He looked at my sharply. I realised all of what I'd spat, and my ears cooled with embarrassment. "I- I mean…"

"You're an Anti-Fairy," he said dismissively, and I had the distinct impression he was including the entirety of my people in his comment. "You don't understand the nuances of the situation."

"The nuances?" I questioned, biting back my bubbling temper. "What, pray tell, are the nuances involved here that, if I am not mistaken, you intend to use to justify the nature of your chronic emotional abuse?"

Winkleglint glanced behind me at the door, as though checking to determine whether his secretary was about to come bounding in. She did not. Instead, he pushed his chair away from his desk and rose to his wings. I watched, narrow-eyed, as he crossed over to a mounted shelf on the other side of the office. He selected not a bound stack of parchments or a scroll, but a small white box stamped with the Fairy Council seal- a golden crown flanked by a pair of long insect wings. I did not miss the fact that the bat wings were absent from the design. This white box, he carried back to me.

"At the end of every zodiac cycle," Winkleglint said, "just before the New Year, all Fairykind with their permanent residence listed in the cloudlands turn in their census data. You Anti-Fairies do that sort of thing every seven years during your annual migrations, don't you?"

"I'm not allowed to migrate further than Navy Park until I'm at least a century old."

Winkleglint shrugged. He flipped open the hinged lid of the box. I leaned across the desk, and he came around to my side so I could better see as he rifled through a series of what appeared to be small squares of yellow parchment. "Like most gynes, I'm registered to receive information at the turn of every cycle about all the other gynes residing in Fairy World. The cards in this box list pheromone profiles. Gynes like me can determine information from the scents embedded in each card, like whether the pheromone donor was a dominant or subordinate gyne at the time of the census. A gyne with drones can't be subordinate, you see. It works both ways."

"Blimey. Can you really get all that from a mere smell?"

"It's a Fairy thing. The cards also list addresses and the number of drones in each gyne's care."

"So you can hunt each other down and eliminate them in secret?" I asked, aghast. My fist tightened around Saturn's lizard.

Winkleglint smiled. "Or, so we can avoid each other. There used to be a law about it, you know." His eyes dropped back to the box. "Most gynes organize their data files by location, but since I'm a school principal, I prefer to organize mine alphabetically on behalf of myself and other faculty members when parents plan to visit our school."

Mr. Thimble had mentioned rival gynes would fight one another to the death if given the opportunity. Did that extend to even brief meetings, like picking one's child up from class? My wings shivered. Fairies certainly were a cruel, bloodthirsty lot. How could it be that an entire society built itself up with the desire to be so malicious?

The cards fluttered in the box as Winkleglint shuffled through them. They were all labeled (Oh, so the Fairies can write in our language- they just choose not to). Dozens of names flashed before my eyes, blurring and colliding in an unsortable fray. Winkleglint slowed as he reached the W section. He hit Wh before Wi, and I snapped to attention.

"Wait a moment. Can I see that one?" I pressed one knuckle against my lips. "You have a card for a Fergus S. Whimsifinado. Is that Fergusius Alexander Whimsifinado? He's a gyne?"

Winkleglint looked at me in some surprise. "Do you know him?"

"I'm… somewhat aware of his counterpart," I returned the ruby lizard to the pouch beneath my shirt as surreptitiously as I could manage. Come to think of it, it made sense. Mr. Thimble had mentioned the black stripes of fur that marked a pilot's face like facial hair, and Anti-Robin had always drawn such patterns in his sketches of Anti-Fergusius.

"Of course. The green bat."

"You know him too?"

Winkleglint removed the Whimsifinado square from his box and turned it over between his fingers. "Only that Mother Nature named a year after him about 362,000 years ago. My daughter Sindri was born in the following cohort."

He handed the card to me. Whimsifinado's permanent address was listed, but the card had a large X drawn through the middle in green. The words above it read, Outdated and therefore unconfirmed data. I pointed my claw. "I say, it would seem that some Fairy out collecting census data isn't doing their job. Fergus doesn't appear to have a current pheromone profile."

Winkleglint narrowed his eyes. "Tax evader."

"Ah." Eyeballing him, I lifted the scrap of parchment to my nose and breathed in the scent. So this was what Fairy-Fergusius smelled like: all sugary-sweet, oily-slippery, and dusted with a smoky tang that I could taste on the roof of my mouth. It was, um… His pheromones smelled like a certain brown party cookie that I didn't have a name for, and technically wasn't supposed to know about until I was older. He smelled like one of the spices I'd once sniffed Anti-Robin and Augustus using in the kitchen. Had his counterpart smelled anything like this, I wondered? Did gyne pheromones manifest for pilots in any way? I poked the tip of my tongue from my mouth, trying to imagine what Anti-Robin might have tasted on his lover's green lips when he came in for a kiss.

Winkleglint took the card away before I could get in a second whiff, but not before I read the address printed down the left side: 37 Twilight Road, Novakiin, Central Star Region. A fleeting thought scuttled across my brain: Should I, perhaps, seek this Fergus Whimsifinado out? Anti-Fairies weren't exactly permitted to wander Fairy World, but I could possibly write him a letter. My father had only mentioned meeting him in his notes once, but could they have met on other occasions as well? Or at least, was Fairy-Fergus familiar with his own counterpart? Might he know more of the green anti-fairy than even Anti-Robin?

All such thoughts passed through my mind in the twitch of a wing. Underneath Fergus Whimsifinado's address, in caps, were the words, STATUS: AWOL.

Right. Tax evader. Why should he want anything to do with me anyway? Even if he should grace my letter with a response, or suggest the two of us meet somewhere we could find neutral ground, I could offer him nothing for his time. Why should he choose to let me sap his energy that way without some sort of gift in return?

Winkleglint returned Whimsifinado's card to the box, and handed his own card to me instead. "Let's end on a high note. Take a whiff of that."

I did, with less enthusiasm. Winkleglint's card didn't smell like very much of anything, besides old people. Definitely not as strong as the spicy tang clinging to Fergus' card that made me want to jump up and dance, even though his pheromones were outdated. I tried again. "Um… I can smell the ink. And bananas."

He laughed at me. Lightly, but he did, while I shifted my wings. "I suppose you have to be a Fairy to identify most of it. Well." He gestured at the card. "That card is my entire identity translated into pheromone cues. Were you to wave that card in front of any drone's face for long enough, they'd quickly fall under your spell, thinking you were me."

"Rrreally?" How very interesting and probably very illegal. I set the card on the desk, wondering what might come of a future where gynes exchanged pheromone cards the way we Anti-Fairy children collected and swapped umbra scrolls at our dueling corner near the Luna's Landing market. I wondered, too, if there was any reason why Winkleglint's scent hadn't affected me as much as Fergus', which still clung to the insides of my nostrils. Perhaps it was his age. "Nonetheless, my point remains standing. Mr. Thimble doesn't like you. The proper thing to do then is let him go. He shouldn't be expected to serve someone he doesn't enjoy being around."

Winkleglint studied me with half-lidded eyes, then inclined his head. "I have a proposition for you, Julius."

"Oh? Do tell."

He removed his hand from beneath his chin. "You're part of the Anti-Coppertalon colony, aren't you? Anti-Bryndin recommended you to me personally. Perfect. Now, what I want you to do when you get home to his castle is, inform him that I am interested in granting you a study abroad opportunity in Fairy World."

My mouth fell open. "I- I can go to Fairy World? I've never been allowed before."

"Because Anti-Elina is training you to be an acolyte. I remember." He paused. A predatory sort of smile began to push its way through his lips. "How did the dear High Countess react when she heard Anti-Bryndin intended to send you here? I imagine she was livid her precious protégé was being exposed to an education that would allow for more varied and exciting career options."

I frowned. "I… I know she allowed it. She and the High Count came to a mutual agreement. As legal equals, she has the authority to overturn any of his decisions, you know, and he hers. So she must have agreed. He wouldn't force his High Countess into anything she disapproved of."

"Of course not." Winkleglint straightened his back. His dangling wings fluttered up. "But yes. Should you be willing to participate in this study abroad opportunity, and Anti-Bryndin permitting, I will take you to Fairy World for two weeks, where you can stay with me at my home. You can observe firsthand how the Seelie Court live."

I narrowed my eyes. "Will Mr. Thimble be there?"

"Of course. I will hire a substitute to take his place here at the school. Mr. Thimble and my three other drones will be staying with us." Winkleglint leaned back, pulling his arms with him until they dropped from the desk to his lap. "During your study abroad experience, I will refrain from exposing my drones to my pheromones."

"How, if you're still there?"

Winkleglint raised both his eyebrows. They came down again. "Gyne pheromones quickly wash off in water. Once you get settled in my place of residence, I'll ask Richard to take a bath. During that time, you and I will clean all traces of my pheromones from my home, except for the ones in my own bedroom. And, I suppose, in the room where you'll be staying, along with any guardian from the Castle whom Anti-Bryndin consents for you to bring along. For two weeks, you can watch how the other half lives. You will be permitted to stop your study abroad early at any time. Do you agree to this?"

My claws were embedded in the wood of his desk. I grit my teeth. My wings strained against their ties. "That sounds excellent. Anti-Bryndin permitting, I accept."

Winkleglint smiled, his hands still folded in his lap. "All right, then. Ask the High Count to contact me as soon as possible so we can begin the arrangements."

"Believe me, sir, I do intend to." I shoved myself away from his desk, hopped off the chair, and fumed the entire way back to the classroom. Mr. Thimble still sat behind his own small, pale desk, stiff and mortified. He watched me take my seat again without saying anything. When the bell to signal the end of lunch rang, he asked, "How did it go?"

"I settled things with Winkleglint. Soon enough, you won't have to worry about him anymore."

I didn't know how to respond when he let out a long groan and smothered his face in his hands. Or why Anti-Bryndin did the same thing when I explained the whole situation to him too.

I was allowed to sleep until a natural Anti-Fairy hour the next morning. Once I'd woken and bid a whispered good-bye to Mona, Anti-Buster waded through the portal after me to speak with Winkleglint in person and offer himself as my chaperone. Frankly, I imagine he was only too happy to get out of the Castle and away from Anti-Bryndin, who seemed to be constantly barking orders about this and that in preparation for the eventual birth of his pup. To my amazement, Anti-Buster actually left the precious red First General cloak at home, tucked away safe in a box.

"So you do have wings after all," I had mused when he turned away from it.

"Of course, sir," he'd sniffed. His black hair was short. Shiny in the right light and always kept close to his ears. He carried a box of supplies for us during our stay, and I also had a pack at my side.

"What is it like in Fairy World, Anti-Buster?" I asked him now, climbing the tall steps from Winkleglint's portal to his office. "I almost think it isn't fair, Spellementary School lying on neutral ground a skip across the cosmos. I should like to visit Fairy World every day."

At the top, Anti-Buster shifted the box he carried to his left arm and reached out to take my shoulder. "Now, sir. You must realise that we are paying a visit to a family of status. Do think carefully about all you say, and try not to come off as condescending." He wrinkled his nose. "Even if Fairy society is a little backwards."

I nodded, keeping my mouth firmly shut. I was doing this for Mr. Thimble. It wouldn't do if I was sent home before I even made it to Fairy World.

Anti-Buster turned the knob on the door. It opened with a light creak. Winkleglint was waiting for us, leaning against his desk and facing the door with his feet crossed at the ankles, much the way Anti-Bryndin had been when I stepped into his office to inquire about my options at Spellementary School. The similarities ended there.

"Oh," I said when I saw him. Winkleglint raised his eyebrows.

"I see you've guessed that I live in the country."

He certainly didn't look it. Rather than a flat hat and a nice blue jacket (emblazoned on one side perhaps with a symbol of a mountain to represent Twis and the influence of Soil in our lives), Winkleglint wore a shirt checked with pink and white. A white hat with a pink stripe and wide brim had been pushed between his head and his crown. His blue pants were roughened with streaks of purple cloud muck. They were torn in one place so I could see his skin, but mostly decorated in patches so bright, I could tell for myself that their colours were intended to be focused on rather than politely ignored. I was half embarrassed to look at him dressed in raggedy clothes such as that.

"Oh." My wings drooped. "The country, you say? I thought I might get to see a Fairy city. I've heard they're daunting with their tall buildings, bright colours, and gently curved streets." What did the Fairy countryside have apart from endless boring hills of clouds?

"We're not here to sight-see," Anti-Buster reminded me, nudging my shoulder. "You offended Winkleglint, and you're going to learn the Fairy ways and apologise."

"What?" I whirled to face him, jabbing with my finger. "But he forces-"

"Shh." Anti-Buster pressed down on my wrist, bringing my hand back to my side. "It's impolite to point, sir. Remember your manners."

I glared at him, puffing out my cheeks. "Is Mr. Thimble all right?" I asked instead.

Anti-Buster nudged me again, the energy field prickling with warning leaf rustles.

Winkleglint nodded. "He's at home, and you'll see him soon. I'm glad you came, Julius."

"So am I."

Anti-Buster set down the box he carried and extended his hands, and Winkleglint lay his own face-up in his palms so Anti-Buster could examine them. Once he had, Winkleglint turned his attention to me. But instead of holding out both hands, he held out just his left. It was tilted sideways. I looked at it, then at Anti-Buster. He only nodded. This must be the greeting Fairies gave to someone of lower status, then.

Hesitantly, I touched my left hand against Winkleglint's. He closed his fingers around it. I flinched and yanked my arm away.

"You'll get it someday," Winkleglint said as the energy field around us began to echo with cheery flute music in amusement. My face stung. I took a step closer to Anti-Buster, wishing that instead of dressing in all black, he'd brought the red cloak. I would have liked to tuck myself away behind it.

"We've brought our things," Anti-Buster told him, gesturing with one wing at the box at his feet, and the bag on my shoulder. "Will you be poofing us to your home, sir?"

"Actually, no." Winkleglint checked his pockets, and to my amazement, pulled out an entire carrot with a huge leafy top. "The charms in place around school premises prevent anyone from poofing directly in or out, and you'll have to pass through customs anyway. I've brought my carriage. It isn't far."

Winkleglint and I, as it turned out, had very different ideas regarding what constituted as "far". "Not far" would be the distance between the Blue Castle and the old Anti-Eros tower with its ravaged gardens and crumbled ruins that to this day still smouldered with endless flickers of green Ghostfire. "Not far" would be the distance between that tower and the Barrier just across the hills. "Not far" wasn't intended to cover a slow and uninspiring trip through the starry sky in a carriage drawn by two winged horsies, followed by at least a quarter of an hour spent convincing the border guards of Plane 6 that yes, we did intend to pass legally through the Barrier, and yes, we were traveling in the company of this Fairy man we had with us, and yes, we would remain in his company the entire time, and yes, he didn't live far enough over the border for us to require a second Fairy escort. I say we could have met Winkleglint after passing through the Barrier on our own, but he insisted, and I had no choice.

"You actually live on Plane 4?" I asked Winkleglint when he came back from the counter. The Fairies behind it had approved our passports, and now they were just preparing to open their doggy door of a gate in the infinitely-, impossibly-tall iron fence that kept my kind and theirs firmly apart, from Plane 13 down to Plane 1. We stood in a small room decorated terribly with white tiles and white walls, and frankly, I could see why Anti-Buster and I were the only Anti-Fairies here. This was a smaller crossing station than the one I'd snuck out to visit once with Mona, Caden, and Augustus. Even those who often made pilgrimages to the Zodiac Temples did so at the actual Divide Gate. There, they could be attended to in a station outfitted with karma-balancing Anti-Fairy decor. Not this glistening, cold rubbish. I kept in my chair, refusing to let my feet touch the floor any more than they had to. I didn't want all that negative energy crawling up my legs.

"What's wrong with Plane 4?" Winkleglint asked, handing back out passport badges.

Anti-Buster glanced down at me. "Julius only knows the Planes of Existence as they manifest beneath the Sunset Skies."

"Oh," he realised. "You Anti-Fairies have the barren half of the Barrenglades in your world. I'd forgotten."

"So it isn't all soot and acid geysers on your side?" I asked, wondering how long it would take me to get offended at the notion. In fact, it was Winkleglint who seemed more surprised that I would suggest such a thing.

"Oh, no. Plane 4 is lush with beautiful ipewood forests. You don't have many ipewoods in Anti-Fairy World, do you? Well, their tall trunks are white and decorated with black stripes and swirls. Their leaves bloom in yellows and golds. Where you have acid, we have ponds and lakes of beautiful water spouting up from the clouds below."

Suffice to say, this did not put me in a pleasant mood. As I'd heard it, once upon a time, the whole cloudlands had been united underneath a mutual starry sky. It was the War of the Sunset Divide that split us apart, with decades of magical warfare bitterly scarring the skyscape. Now the pale purple-blue light in Fairy World never set, and we Anti-Fairies were left to thrive beneath skies of red and orange. Which wouldn't have all been so bad, had the landscape not suffered from the permanent switch in their usual sunlight. Rotting trees. Dying forests. Even when one acknowledges the fact that we Anti-Fairies could regenerate from anything that killed a Fairy so long as our hosting counterpart remained alive, how was it fair that they stole the glorious woodlands for themselves, and the half of Plane 4 we'd been left with was a barren place tormented by oozing acid and erosion?

I watched through narrow eyes as Winkleglint whipped a bit of fabric from his pocket. It looked to be some sort of large kerchief, and when he tapped it with his wand, it instantly soaked itself as though dunked in water. Winkleglint slapped the kerchief around his throat in a loop, then began to tie it at the front. "My gyne pheromones are secreted from patches along my neck," he explained. "With this wet scarf in the way, they'll die down. My drones will notice it soon enough, and they'll start treating me like a simple kabouter."

"What about a baseline phase for our experiment?" I asked. "You know, the part where we record how things normally are for a few days or weeks before we start altering the conditions of the environment. Isn't that the proper way to execute a scientific study?"

"Believe me," Winkleglint said, rolling his eyes, "my estate is blanketed in plenty of my pheromones. Even when I'm scarfing myself, and even after we use water and magic to scrub away as many as we can, it will take at least two days for them to wear off. That's your baseline."

"Scarfing" was a curious word, I thought.

The Fairies at customs came back to wave us through the chink they'd made in the Barrier. I tightened my grip on my bag as I followed Winkleglint and Anti-Buster back outside to where we'd left the carriage. Ipewood forests of Plane 4, here I come.

The gate opened onto a pretty mountainside, which hadn't been my first guess when Winkleglint described his home as the country. As he'd promised, the spiralled tree trunks were black and white, and the leaves that enveloped us gleamed with an almost metallic glint of gold. The horses stepped lightly onto the path of trampled vapor, their wings prickling up. "It isn't far," Winkleglint assured us again when I sent him a questioning look. "Just down the mountain. I bought the place as soon as I heard the news that I would be Spellementary's principal. It makes commuting easy."

The carriage started forward down the cliffside path. First at a slight canter, and rapidly at a thundering speed. I looked over the side to my right, and my words caught in my throat.

"Whoa…"

Even I, passionate about the Blue Castle's garden of black and phosphorescent flora, had to acknowledge Fairy World's beauty. I craned my neck so far over the carriage's side, Anti-Buster had to grab hold of me by the back of my tunic. Far below us, I could make out buildings like a little villa nestled in a glade between the golden treetops. That twinkle of blue was perhaps a pond, a short stretch of green was probably a garden, and that ridge with the long, narrow break in the forest must be the edge of the cloud. Our ride jostled and jumped over bumps in the clouds, and then-

For the first time in my young life, I was truly airborne.

The winged horsies brought us down on a landing strip carved out of the forest like they'd done it every day of their existence. The entire place smelled faintly of Winkleglint, I suppose, in that "old person with bananas on his breath" sort of way. I let myself out of the carriage and face-planted in a puff of springy pink cloud. Anti-Buster helped me up while Winkleglint turned the horsies over to another fairy who had just flown up to greet us. To Anti-Buster, Winkleglint said, "The second building on the right is the guest quarters. That's where you two will be staying. I'll be in the main house."

"You mean this is all yours?" I asked, pressing my hand to my forehead. How many buildings were there, anyway? Not including the stable or the well that must draw water vapor and ice crystals from the clouds below, I counted six small structures from where I was standing. No library. No market. I shook my head. "It's certainly not a Castle, but it isn't a village either. What do you call this set-up?"

"A hive estate," Winkleglint said, and laughed.

"But… but who lives here besides your family? What use could you have for all this space?" Slowly, I noticed that all the nearby buildings appeared to be constructed of wood. Not stone. A lump formed at the base of my throat. Tír Ildáthach, the nature spirit who embodied Fairy World, had nurtured those trees back when they were mere saplings. Some of them were centuries old, if not millennia. H-had the Fairies really torn those up from her body, or had they done what we Anti-Fairies did when wood was a necessity, and imported lumber to the cloudlands from Earth?

He shrugged his wings. "I'm a gyne. Personal space away from other gynes is extremely valuable to me. Do I need another reason to be territorial?"

I granted him that. In the Blue Castle, we literally had hundreds - Nay, thousands! - of rooms we didn't fully utilise on a regular basis. Winkleglint had a similar structure, only he had simply broken his single castle into a small community to allow additional privacy for individuals. I could respect that. Disregarding the question regarding the origin of the wood, his estate was quite lovely, apart from the noisy hum of sprites breeding down by the garden pond with its half-frozen chunks of slushy ice. Evidently, the water in Fairy World froze this close to the Barrier, rather than thawing the nearer it got like it did on our side. Automatically, I scratched my arms, dreading the itchy sprite bites that were certain to accumulate before the week was out.

Note to self, I thought. Ask our host about scheduling a flea dip. The last thing I wanted out of this trip was to bring freeloading magic-suckers with me back across the border. In Anti-Fairy World, our parasites tended to die off around the same distance from the Barrier that our rivers froze. Regardless, given the magical resilience of their natures, I didn't have full confidence that the cooler temperatures beneath our Sunset Skies would kill them off before they multiplied out of control. Fairies tended to hibernate in the winter, didn't they? Or at least the Earth-dwelling ones. They became more lethargic at the very least- we Anti-Fairies had figured that out millennia ago.

My ears pricked up. Another fairy was hurrying towards us. When I turned, I spotted Mr. Thimble trotting over, adjusting the buttons on his collar. He glanced nervously at me, and then at his boss as he slowed his pace. "There you are, sir. I wondered when you would get back. Your pheromones are noticeably erratic today. May we discuss this in private?"

Winkleglint leaned back against the side of the carriage, hands folded over his stomach. "I'm afraid I have some news for you, Richard. Julius is insistent that drones can get by without the pheromones of a dominant figure. I'm shutting down this operation and going into solitary confinement while Julius tries his hand at wrangling drones."

I nodded. Mr. Thimble blinked. "Um. No, that's stupid. Our moods and energy levels will fluctuate out of control. Sir, can you please reinstate yourself?"

"Not today."

Mr. Thimble looked at me. He looked back at his gyne. "Sir, can you please reinstate yourself?"

"Not today," Winkleglint repeated patiently.

"I see," he murmured. "How soon, then?"

"I told Julius two weeks, but earlier if he calls his study abroad experience off."

"Which I won't," I added.

Mr. Thimble didn't twitch. "That's not the answer I was looking for, sir. You know how this will turn out."

"I'm sorry. Julius is running the show. For now, he is the most dominant one on estate premises."

"Sure," Mr. Thimble said, drawing the word out slowly. He drifted off towards the well, scratching thoughtfully behind his neck.

"Great," I said, "you told him you'd take him back early if I stop the experiment. What if he should interfere in some way? Fake his reactions, perhaps?"

Winkleglint chuckled and straightened up. "I assure you, the thought won't have crossed his mind."

I helped Anti-Buster unpack our things in a chamber in the guest quarters called a "bedroom". Winkleglint hadn't provided us with an array that had a roost we could hang from, exactly, and unfortunately, the ipewood trees outside had branches much too slender and high for any sane pup to risk. Even so, we found a solution. Inside the closet, I came across a metal bar laden with strange plastic hooks. Anti-Buster presented it to me, and offered to take the bed for himself.

"Are you sure?" I asked, jumping and grabbing for the closet roost with my hands. On my fourth try I caught it, and flipped myself over so my feet could cling to the bar instead. We had only crossed one time zone from the Blue Castle, so it was still early morning, but after spending that bumpy carriage ride in an upright position not at all natural for Anti-Fairies, I needed a brief respite to recharge.

"I will manage, sir," Anti-Buster assured me, placing his box of supplies on the floor. He sized up the bed, and I saw his smile curl in one corner. The energy field blossomed with harp strings. "In fact, I think I will enjoy having some space to call my own. I do so enjoy stepping out of Anti-Bryndin's shadow every once in awhile."

I shifted my feet. "Anti-Buster? Why does Winkleglint have his own bedroom all to himself?" Even Anti-Bryndin and Anti-Elina slept in the high-ranking roosting room with the other members of the camarilla court and their mates.

"His wife sleeps in there with him."

"Why don't they sleep with the rest of the family? I'd think they'd get lonely, the two of them all alone."

"I'm sure it's because they appreciate all the additional storage space they have in there, kept out of the way of grabby child hands."

That made sense.

Our rest was brief, and then it was time for lunch. I knew because I woke with my stomach hungry. Anti-Buster was still asleep, curled on top of the bedsheets with the hand that bore his purple betrothal ring thrown across his eyes. We hadn't shut the curtains, and I blinked at the pale starlight filtering in. Considering that sunrise and sunset were essentially the same things, you wouldn't think the light in Fairy World would be so much brighter here than that in Anti-Fairy World, only it was. How strange to live beneath a purple sky instead of a red one. And stranger still to have a window without bars. Why, anyone could crawl straight in, couldn't they?

The guest quarters consisted of two small bedrooms, a closet-like space with two basins where we could relieve and wash ourselves (not in the same one), and a tiny kitchen, but Anti-Buster hadn't unpacked our food from the supply box. I left him to rest and slipped outside, into the warm air. From all different directions, I could pick up Fairy voices, winged horsie whinnies, wagon wheels, and clashing silverware. Not to mention the stirring leaves. I twitched my ears back and forth, and finally settled on a movement near the well. Why, someone was drawing up water. Mr. Thimble, perhaps?

But it wasn't Mr. Thimble. In fact, it was a damsel. It was two damsels. "Oh," I said, and stopped walking. The older of the pair didn't seem as though she could be more than 325,000, and the younger still kept her pink hair divided in two braids, as I'd heard unmarried Fairy damsels generally did. They both turned when I spoke. I tipped my head. "Um. Are one of you Sindri? Winkleglint's daughter?"

The older damsel lifted her hand, while the younger continued bringing up the water. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she greeted, with the same formal and uninterested tone that Mum tended to use around me. "I'm Sindri. My sister is Xena. I assume you're Julius, the anti-fairy who's staying on with us. Can we help you?"

I scratched my head. "Well. I was out here in search of Mr. Thimble, but perhaps I can glean some outside information about him from you instead. Do you know him well?"

Sindri inclined her head, her yellow crown bobbing. It caught the light when it glinted, and the shine nearly blinded me in my left eye. "I've always called him Richard. He's my father's alpha retinue drone. He takes charge of the others. He's a tireless worker. He was there when my father bore me, and later Xena, and he helped to raise us. Now that I'm married, I hope he'll be around to help my husband and I raise our nymphs too."

"I see." I watched another figure approaching from the far side of the estate. Another drone, perhaps? "And, how does your father treat Mr. Thi- Ah, Richard?"

Sindri blinked, and helped Xena lift the bucket over the edge of the well. "Like a drone should be treated. Gently, showing appreciation and respect."

"Hmm," I said.

For a time, I wandered the stables and the tiny garden filled with imported Earth soil and budding green crops, before finally deciding to examine the main house. A thin desk covered with a cloth stood guard in the entry corridor. I paused. It had been decorated in little glass objects and tiny framed paintings of Winkleglint, Sindri, Xena, and everyone else who lived at the estate. Something about the paintings nagged at me, and I stood for a moment tapping my head before I realised what it was.

"Those teeth…"

I placed my hands at the edge of the desk and leaned forward until my long nose bumped against one of the portraits. In every image, Winkleglint was depicted with his teeth showing as he smiled. The leprechaun drake I assumed was Sindri's husband, as evidenced by the way she leaned against his side with her hand on his chest while he wrapped an arm around her waist, always had the same expression. Sindri, Xena, and Dame Winkleglint too.

I frowned. In Anti-Fairy culture, depicting one's bared fangs in a permanent medium such as a portrait would be considered an insult, as it implied the figure was known to be an ill-mannered brute who favoured brawn over brains. We Anti-Fairies didn't look as kindly upon senseless violence as gynes in Fairy World seemed to. As such, the statues in the Blue Castle corridors were always carved with closed-mouthed smiles. Dignified, cool-headed, and at peace with themselves. I couldn't help but notice, too, that Winkleglint's drones made frequent smiling appearances in these little paintings, but never with their teeth exposed. Always tight-lipped. A conscious decision, or an automatic one?

"How curious that my people differ from Fairies in so many tiny ways."

I probed around the house some more and found Mr. Thimble in the dining room. It was all wood, with cosy little fixtures so incredibly different from the world of stone I grew up in back in Anti-Fairy World. The windows, framed with pale blue curtains, were still open and lacking bars. There was no sign of Winkleglint, though drearily I suspected Mr. Thimble intended to sneak along the corridor to his room sooner rather than later. One of his feet was pointed in that direction.

"Making lunch?" I asked. Clearly, Mr. Thimble wasn't doing any such thing. He sat in a chair at the table, holding a bare plate against the edge and staring down at it.

His knuckles tightened around the plate's rim. "You shouldn't have involved yourself in my personal affairs, Julius. Now I'm going to be punished."

I pointed a claw at him. "Aha! I knew it! You are in an abusive relationship after all!"

Mr. Thimble pushed the plate away. He slumped across the table, folding his arms in front of his mouth in exactly the way Winkleglint had been sitting when I had stormed into his office the day before. "We had a disagreement," he said. "That was all. It's bound to happen every once in a while when we Fairies live as long as we do, but I wouldn't call it abuse. Orin is good to me."

"Hmph. I say, if Winkleglint really respected you, he'd never fight with you on anything at all. It's his duty to tell you things that make you feel appreciated, not things that hurt your feelings. If he has a problem with you, he shouldn't gossip about it. Word might get back to you, and how would you feel then? If Winkleglint cared for you, he would put your peace of mind above anything else, no matter what. He shouldn't be doing things you want him to say 'Sorry' for."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Julius, perhaps you haven't yet come to terms with the unbearable lightness of being a child. You're vastly intelligent, yes. You have a creative mind, yes. You're just trying to help, yes. But you don't know everything. Not about Fairy society, and not about me." Mr. Thimble lifted his head. "You are playing with my life as though I'm your toy."

I climbed onto the chair beside him. "Um. Ahem. Mr. Thimble? If you could choose, would you want to be a gyne?"

"No," he droned (Pun… reluctantly intended) without even taking the time to think about it. "I'm not cut out for fighting rival gynes like Orin is."

"Oh, right." I'd forgotten about that little detail. Mr. Thimble was too small to defend, well… anyone in a physical fight. He was lean, and while his face was young, those were definitely grey streaks poking through his ginger curls. For the first time, it dawned on me how narrow his hips were. Of course. Fairy drakes were the ones who carried the pups (Well, nymphs), and he'd mentioned the high infertility rate among drones like himself. Might the width of the waist, perhaps, be the way to tell a drone apart from a kabouter? Perhaps.

"Mr. Thimble?" I asked again, drawing my eyes to his still unbuttoned collar. "How does that, um… that licking thing I saw you and Winkleglint doing in class… H-how does that work? Those licks mean something to a Fairy, don't they?" It was similar to the brushing body contact greetings used among Anti-Fairies, yet different too.

"Mostly to drones and gynes," he acknowledged. "For Fairies, it's both our native language and an ancient foreign tongue. It's newness and familiarity rolled together. Licking the skin is a way of exchanging pheromones. Most notably, gynes and drakes use them to communicate either their protective dominant or respectful subordinate status. At times, licks may also be exchanged between a skyship captain confirming the loyalty of his crew before a long and difficult journey through the cosmos, or between authorities who desire to express their commitment to a business deal." Mr. Thimble paused to consider his own words. "I suppose that was more common back before we started to develop tabletwork. Er, paperwork. Our society has been easing away from that trend ever since the war, but I don't expect it will truly fade out within my lifetime. Still, to a gyne and his drones, preening is everything."

"Oh? Is that what it's called?" It was a pretty word.

He nodded. "Every lick involved in a preening ritual is a symbol that carries a different tone, meaning, and emotion. Some signals are intended to be apologetic, others comforting, others respectful, and still others demanding."

I nodded back, more slowly. "When you and Winkleglint, er… preen… a-are you happy? How does it feel?"

Mr. Thimble closed his eyes. "Sweet. As sweet as fondue. As sweet as chocolate. As sweet as the rush of purified energy field on a Friday morning. When gynes and drones exchange pheromones by licking one another's skin, that's called preening. I think preening is the deepest level of trust two Fairies could possibly have." He opened his mouth and traced his tongue along his teeth. "Do you know why the windpipe is so important to Fairies, Julius?"

It was an interrupting, oddball question from some other field. He'd slipped back into teaching mode, I suppose, and decided to fling a pop quiz into my lap. I thought through my possible replies, playing with the edge of the tablecloth.

"Um… I understand a few things. In the universe, there is this thing called oxygen. It makes fire burn, and down on Earth, there are animals who use it to breathe. Oxygen is what fills their blood and keeps their brrrains functioning. However, the survival of you Fairies doesn't depend on oxygen. Instead, you absorb floating particles of the universe's magic, or what we call the energy field, through the pores in your skin, similar to the way your insect counterparts intake oxygen. And, um…" I looked down at my hands. "I know that compressing the windpipe will severely hurt a Fairy. It disrupts the flow of magic through their veins somehow, by scrambling their circuits and… sending off energy pulses that chase the magic down to the feet and away from the brain and the life-giving core, or something. It's one of the few ways a Fairy can die. I don't really understand why."

"Very good," Mr. Thimble told me, sounding honest. Straightening, he touched a finger to his throat. "There are other creatures in the universe who use their windpipes for carrying oxygen to their lungs. Our windpipes, larynxes, or whatever you call them in Anti-Fairy World are connected to our voice boxes and used only for producing sound so we can speak. Squeezing the windpipe triggers all the nerves to flare up, all trying to make noise all at once. It drains a Fairy of all their energy in a matter of minutes. A Fairy with a damaged windpipe won't survive long." He paused. "Or at least, this is the best explanation science has for us at this time. Granted, when we Fairies die, our bodies turn to dust, and you Anti-Fairies turn to smoke. It makes Fairykind difficult to study."

"Hmm… So I suppose, when a drone brings his sharp teeth near a gyne's neck to offer a lick…"

"… A relationship of extreme trust has been established," Mr. Thimble finished. "The windpipe is right there." He returned to staring at his plate. Placing his fingertips against the rim, he pushed down and made the plate bounce up. Its ceramic surface gave off a deep, trembling noise that rattled through my ear canals. He let it down again. "Maybe that's why I have a hard time believing you when you talk to me like I'm a prisoner. I hold power over Orin too. It creates a system of checks and balances, not unlike the way the Anti-Fairy Council handle justice and punishment, and the High Count and Countess manage your military force and federal funds."

"When I was talking to him yesterday, Winkleglint made it sound like drones really need gynes to be happy," I said. "But if you came to the Blue Castle with me and began making friends there, why, you could teach an Anti-Fairy the licking signs. I'll help you figure out which ones you can trust. Maybe your counterpart. Have you met him? He holds the Seat of Breath on Anti-Elina's camarilla court, you know. Anti-Richard is dreadfully excitable, but you know he would never really hurt you. I daresay he'd treat you with a load more respect than Winkleglint did, you know what I mean?"

Mr. Thimble wasn't convinced. "Anti-Fairy licks don't transfer pheromones."

"Then we'll have him use a placebo replacement."

"Open wide."

I did, uncertainly, but he held me back by the shoulders as he brought his eyes down to my level. After a brief moment spent scrutinizing the inside of my mouth, he shook his head.

"It wouldn't work. Your tongue is too soft."

"You didn't even try it," I protested.

"I don't have to." Mr. Thimble's tone turned deeply disinterested. "In fact, I didn't even have to use my eyes to recognise it. Remember, even though I may be a drone instead of a kabouter or a gyne, I'm still a Fairy. I can sense movement and textures from a distance, including your tongue even when your mouth is closed. And, I studied Fairykind physiology at the Academy. Anti-Fairies have long, soft tongues for sipping flower nectar, and for…" He blinked. "Um. It's for nectar. Fairy tongues are rough. They're meant for scraping at the skin and absorbing oils and pheromones from the pores. Not," he said with the slightest hint of venom, "for preening Anti-Fairies."

Even though I suspected I knew the answer, I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit miffed. "I say, what's so bad about preening Anti-Fairies?"

Mr. Thimble looked at me again. Then he took my wrist and lifted it until my arm stretched between us in a straight line. "This," he said, and scraped his other hand several times down my arm. Tufts of loose blue fur fell to the floor, catching between the wooden planks. "If I licked an Anti-Fairy, my tongue would pick up all this loose clutter. Fairy tongues are coated in soft spines that point into our mouths and make it difficult to spit anything out. Your fur would clog our throats. We'd cough up balls of your hair for days."

"Ah." My wings drooped. "So, I suppose you wouldn't accept an Anti-Fairy substitute for your gyne, even if he were your own counterpart."

He sounded about ready to sneer. "I wouldn't accept an Anti-Fairy if he were the High Count himself. You don't produce the same pheromones we do, so preening would be a waste of time for everyone. An Anti-Fairy sloppily preening a Seelie Courter with their tongues would be an insult, and if a Seelie stooped to that level and offered to preen an Anti-Fairy…" Shaking his head, he left me to fill in the blanks.

"That… would be a sign of immense respect?"

"Hypothetically. And it doesn't seem terribly likely your kind will be getting that from ours any time soon."

"Oh," I muttered. That sounded about right. I straightened my wings. "Was it like that even before the war, too?"

Mr. Thimble didn't seem to hear me. Lost in thought, he prattled on, "Tongues are the single most observable, defining feature between the three Fairykind genera. For a Faedivus, to taste the air is to experience our surroundings. We identify pheromones and recognise danger signals from afar. We are a people with an eye for shape, intuitively aware of every nearby flowing movement. This includes even the barbegazi, with their white Anti-Fairy-like wings, because they don't have fur, and they're still Fairies. Faelumen, like their avian cousins, have bones within their tongues."

Faedivus I knew to be the genus name that every Primary Fairy could be categorized under, into species and subspecies. Faelumen, then, must be the genus name for the Fairy Refracts, with their white body feathers and golden wings. I nodded.

"And then there's you Faeumbra, with your exceptionally long and sticky tongues. We all know what your kind do with those during courtship, and frankly I'm not interested in letting one of those get anywhere near my face. Anyway, they're too soft and squishy. They ooze across the skin like slime, and your drool pushes any grime on the face away before the tongue can even get there. Not even mentioning the fact that your saliva contains strong acids intended to burn and dissolve skin."

"Actually, our tongues absorb-"

"I imagine the whole experience to be an incredibly disturbing one, and it simply doesn't appeal to my needs. Even anti-will o' the wisps, despite sharing their wings with those of a moth instead of a bat, I consider inefficient."

Well, obviously. What else would you expect from a mothdame? Their inexpensive, ah, services were hardly intended to rank as premium, for an Anti-Fairy or a gyne.

"Still…" I placed my elbows on the table and cupped my chin in my hand. "A partner with limited ability to satisfy your needs is far superior to an obsessively controlling partner who fights with you and tears you down, isn't it?"

Mr. Thimble stared out the nearest window, unconvinced. Then he turned on me. "Why do you insist on doing this, Anti-Lunifly? My personal life is none of your business."

I flicked back my ears. "Me? Why, you're the one who told me you hated Winkleglint!"

He folded his arms again with a grimace. "I'm a domineering spirit trapped inside a thin, fragile body. I clash with his personality from time to time, but he gives good pheromones."

I sighed. "Mr. Thimble, I don't think you understand how badly he's been abusing you."

"… So what's this?"

"What?" When I glanced over, he had slumped over, again mimicking Winkleglint's earlier position in his office with perfect minute detail. The ceramic plate sat, empty, in front of his eyes.

"If that was abuse, what's this?"

"This?" I laughed. "Why, this is living free!"

We sat together for a moment.

"I don't like it," Mr. Thimble said. He shifted his eyes over to me. "I thought that you of all people would understand my predicament, Julius. It's why I confessed to you alone back in the classroom."

"How do you mean?" I asked, aghast.

"Because your people live in large colonies, act openly affectionate, and defer to a leader figure who assigns you to productive chores, provides stimulation, and organises entertaining events. Just like drones and their gyne."

I opened my mouth. I shut it. I opened it again. I shut it. The world sounded like rain falling on a starcharterdial.

"Th-this is different," I stammered out. My tail, though restricted by my pants, started to bristle up. "Winkleglint is keeping you here against your will. Can't you see that?"

"Perhaps. But." Mr. Thimble put out his hands. "I don't really want to leave him. Even if I did, I have nowhere else to go. Orin is the only family I have. My fellow teachers all know I belong to him, and I don't have close relationships with anyone else. I'm considered a bit older for a drone," he added, glancing at me almost in apology. "I'm set in my ways. I've planted my roots. What other gyne would want me at this age?"

I had no answer for him. Fergus Whimsifinado was the only other gyne I knew. Him, and perhaps Swanee-Bryndin, considering that Anti-Bryndin had his freckles and black chin fur and all.

"Then forget gynes and preening altogether," I said, flicking my hand. "What you really need is a loving romantic relationship. You need another family to pour your attention into. That will make you happy."

"Remember that I'm sterile."

"So am I," I pointed out. "Yet, I managed to find a damsel who loves me anyway. Look here, Mr. Thimble. Picture yourself seated at the supper table. All the food there is pleasant. Your portion sizes are perfect. The food intended to be warm is warm, and the food intended to remain cool is cool. Your significant other sits to your left, and all your other best friends sit to your right. Music plays like twinkling stars. Do you feel it?"

I studied Mr. Thimble's eyelids. His mouth kept twitching in a frown, like keeping up with everything I'd said took all his energy. I sighed.

"You're imagining Winkleglint there, aren't you?"

Instead of opening his eyes, Mr. Thimble simply covered them. "I can't help it. My father died when I was only ten thousand. Orin took me under his wing. Sure, we've argued here and there, but who wouldn't after almost eight hundred thousand years together? Orin isn't just my employer. He's also my family. He's my caretaker. He's my brother. He's my friend. I can't, as you seem to think I can, simply leave him and my entire life behind."

Here, I crossed my arms. The foot would have to come down. "Mr. Thimble, may I remind you that you said you hated him."

"I don't hate him. I just…" He looked away. "I miss him. It was more fun when we were younger. The playfulness and the caring were there. I don't hate him. I just don't like his current mindset as much as I liked his old one." As I watched, Mr. Thimble's eyes flickered shut again. "Back when we used to play games in the woods, back when we looked after Sindri together, back when we actually agreed on the same politics, back when I felt… irreplaceable."

It was an interesting word to end on. "You really do care for Winkleglint," I said, watching my teacher mope into his arms. I twitched my ears. "How can that be? Mr. Thimble, I know you don't want to believe it, but I simply insist that you face the truth. I saw you trembling to the point of going thinningcore when Winkleglint burst into the classroom during lunch hour. You were scared. He scared you." I put my head on the table, trying to catch his eye. "Is that the sort of relationship you truly want to continue? Can you really thrive on that forever? Why don't you just leave? No matter how long they'd been close to me, no matter how much I once cared for them, if someone were hurting me instead of loving me, I would leave."

"It's not that simple, Julius," Mr. Thimble murmured. "You can't let go of eight hundred thousand years. I'm his drone, he's my gyne… That makes us family. You understand."

"But you're not happy!" I closed my hand into a fist. "And you always deserve to be happy, no matter who tries to get in your way! Who decided to make it a rule that drones have to stick with gynes? Why, it's your life, and Winkleglint has no right to tear your freedom away from you! You're allowed to be happy!"

Mr. Thimble stared forward without answering, while I huffed several times between my teeth. Then he said, "Actually, Orin's in the right. We don't usually fight. We never fight. This time he was right, and it was my fault. I'm just a slave to my base instincts, and I let myself get tempted away. Eight hundred thousand years is a long time to remain faithful, and when Dale crossed my path, I lost control of myself."

"Who is Dale?" I asked, latching on to the name instantly. If Mr. Thimble had been lured away from the drake he'd lived with his entire life, it must have been for true love. I just had to make him realise it, subtly enough that he thought it was all his idea.

"Dale Scarletfeather. He lives in town. He hunts squirrels and jackalope in the forest, along with the occasional kelpie. He makes the best waffles." Mr. Thimble pushed his fingers through his hair. "I don't know… I didn't mean to hurt Orin. He wasn't supposed to find out. He wouldn't have, if Dale hadn't bragged about it. I know other drones who've skipped between half a dozen gynes in their lifetime. I've only had Orin. His pheromones have been getting weaker for centuries, and Dale is so young and full of energy. He smells of apricots. I was just curious. I was out running errands, and he offered to walk me home from the post office by way of a 'new shortcut' he'd just forged through the woods during a hunting trip. When he turned down his road instead of Orin's, I didn't try to stop him. I didn't even think about it. It's what I do."

"You did nothing wrong in exploring the potential for a relationship with Mr. Scarletfeather," I assured him, giving his elbow a pat. "You came back to Winkleglint, didn't you? No one was hurt, and you had a delightful time while you were out. There's no shame in that."

"But we're not Anti-Fairies."

I stopped patting. My ears quivered. I withdrew my hand. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Mr. Thimble sat up, pushing his chair several centimetres back. His wings threatened to beat despite the fact he was sitting down. He was glaring. "You wouldn't understand, Julius, but we Fairies actually take relationships seriously. Unlike your kind, we're not supposed to have second wives and third wives and - dust forbid - a string of devoted gynes. We don't have huge mating free-for-alls like your annual migrations. In Fairy World, relationships are built on emotions like love and trust. Not on lust and desire like they are on your side of the Barrier, where even your sexually transmitted diseases are praised as medals of honour rather than brands of shame."

Every word smashed against my skull like a piece of razor-sharp coral. "I-I'm sorry?" I stammered out, ice rising in my cheeks. My ears swivelled downward.

"You know what your coloured eyes are, don't you, Anti-Lunifly? Your culture has beaten the taboos out of existence and marketed your little iris virus so well, you couldn't imagine accepting a prince with red eyes on the High Count seat even if he were your own flesh and blood. Anti-Bryndin wasn't even Anti-Ember's firstborn. You know that, don't you? Your intended prince was passed over, just because of something he couldn't control when he was born." Mr. Thimble stood. His fingers curled into the edges of the table. "Don't you realise the iris virus is nothing more than a sign of your mother's thirsty, unquenchable soul? Has Anti-Bryndin ever told you why he's laid claim to three permanent wives, and not one the match he was actually paired with during his Tarrow ceremony? To say nothing of the way he takes his pick of all the other adults in his colony purely on a whim whenever he likes. To say nothing of what we all know goes down during migration season. How old are Anti-Fairies usually by the time they find out he keeps his actual honey-lock partner locked up in a grain silo?"

The frozen tears pushed their way over my eyelids before I could blink them back. "How could you say that? Anti-Bryndin and Anti-Elina are our High Count and High Countess! He would never lock anyone away like that, and she would never let him. They're good people!"

His hands came down on the kitchen table. "I'm a drone. I'm the one who physically doesn't have a *$#&!ing choice when it comes down to pheromones and preening. And look which one of us takes the heat for cheating."

I think I only processed half of what he said, so stunned was I by this sudden whirlwind of venom. I do remember that once he stalked outside and flitted off towards the road, I fled to Anti-Buster in the guest house and begged for him to say it wasn't so, all those nasty truths Mr. Thimble spat about Anti-Bryndin abandoning his Tarrow partner as though our traditions actually meant nothing, about Anti-Zoe in the grain silo, about my bright green eyes being a sign of something shameful I was only beginning to understand. Anti-Buster held me in his lap and stroked my hair, and was very good at listening while I babbled out all my pains and fears.

"You just don't understand, Julius," he comforted me in his familiar low murmur. "Deprive a drone of pheromones at the wrong time of the season and they get like that. Moody. Aggressive. Their moods and energy fluctuate horribly without a dominant gyne to keep them in check. He would have lashed out at anyone who had been there. It wasn't because it was you. You were simply there, the wrong place at the wrong time. Such was your fate, but use the experience to learn and grow and you'll come off stronger for it."

"It still hurt." I nestled my long nose into his shirt, clinging to his warmth and the security of his wings around me. I swallowed. "Anti-Buster? Is it true what he said, that Anti-Ember had a firstborn Anti-Coppertalon child who didn't inherit the coloured eyes, and so he was hidden away from us and that's the only reason the heirship passed to Anti-Bryndin?"

"… It's true."

"I've never heard tell of it before. I didn't even know there could be Anti-Coppertalons without the iris virus. Why don't we ever talk about it?"

He grimaced, still brushing his claws through the tangles in my hair. "Some things aren't meant to be brought into the public eye, sir. The Anti-Coppertalons are a noble lineage. Were an heir without the virus next in line for the High Seat, the people would cry out in protest with claims that the sacred gift was lost, and the favour of the nature spirits was lost with it. It's our custom. Anti-Dusty even changed his name."

"What happened to him?" I croaked.

"The same fate intended for all Anti-Coppertalons who don't show the coloured blessing, as is our tradition, sir. He learned to fade into the background, and traded the Anti-Coppertalon name for the one shared by his Fairy counterpart, Fairywinkle, for of course, it's always Fairy fathers who pass on their names, regardless of their status." Anti-Buster lifted his head, and I watched dully as his pink eyes gleamed. "Anti-Dusty did contract the iris virus eventually. From the most devilishly alluring damsel this side of Comet Falls, I don't mind confessing. But by then, it was much too late to force himself back into his family. Such became his fate. The fact that the Anti-Coppertalons are capable of producing heirs who don't show the virus is among the most guarded secrets of the noble lineage, sir. Do realise that I am trusting you deeply with it. The common people aren't to know. To ensure their undying loyalty, they must believe they are ruled over by the most favoured bloodline of the gods."

Rubbing my nose, I said, "You certainly know a lot about our secret history, Anti-Buster. I really ought to take some private tutoring from you."

He did not reply. I stared at him.

And then I clapped both hands over my mouth. "Eeep! No! You don't mean-? But-! Anti-Dusty Anti-Fairywinkle can't be- You?"

"Shhh!" Anti-Buster folded back his ears. His eyes stretched. "Julius, you let your imagination run away with you, as is your tendency."

I could see the traces of Anti-Ember in the shape of his face and the sheen of his black hair. Not to mention his height and his glimmering pink eyes. My hands stayed on my face as my eyes darted around.

"But- but- you were born first! As the firstborn, it's your right! You're of Anti-Coppertalon blood, and the position should be yours, regardless of the colour of your eyes, shouldn't it? But oh, how could you? Turning your back on your Anti-Coppertalon blood to take your counterpart's family name? There might not have even been a true Anti-Fairywinkle family back in ancient times. Where is your history? Where is your story? What animal do you honour?"

"Julius."

"The Anti-Coppertalons have always been faithful to their past as a family descended from the most noble of all scent hounds, Her Glory Laelaps herself, and- and you deserve to honour that aspect of your heritage too, even if you were looked over in terms of inheritance. And if you are truly Anti-Dusty, and Anti-Ember's firstborn, then- then- Caden really should have been-"

I couldn't even speak. Me, friends with a long-lost prince, all this time?

"Caden is my lady's sister's son, not mine, sir," Anti-Buster corrected gently, setting me on his knee. I massaged my temples.

"Oh. And, your lady?"

Anti-Buster averted his gaze. "Anti-will o' the wisp."

"… Oh." For a fleeting instant, I wondered if it was perhaps a good thing that Anti-Buster - Anti-Dusty - hadn't become our High Count, with a mothdame for a mate! A free lady! Couldn't you just imagine her standing in the Castle gardens, draped in bright beads and wispy cloths and sequin undergarments?

But I was struck with immediate shame, too, for shouldn't I take pity on those less fortunate than myself? And didn't Anti-Dusty and any heir he might have deserve their birthright regardless of the circumstances? Even if the heir were a mothdame's child?

"Um. About you and your wife. Did you ever have…?"

His eyes wandered back to meet mine. "We had two damsels. Twins. It was millennia ago."

Twin ex-princesses. This just kept getting more complicated. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't trust the story's source so completely. I shifted my position in his lap.

"We don't have any twins in the Anti-Coppertalon colony. What happened to them?"

"Abandoned during a trip to Fairy World by their mother before I was sent word. Never seen again." Short and harsh.

Ooh. Torn from their families and their proper heritage, their fates resting completely in the hands of the spirits. I decided to change the subject. "Um… Anti-Dusty-"

"Anti-Buster, please, sir."

"Anti-Buster, I understand that you and Anti-Bryndin must be half-brothers. After all, you don't have chimera horns, so you're not an anti-swanee. It's certainly plausible you're related, as the Anti-Coppertalon surname does come from Nana Anti-Ember's family line. I know you don't share the same father, then, so may I ask… Do you know so much of Mr. Thimble's nature because you too happen to have been born a drone?"

"There is no equivalent of drones among healthy Anti-Fairies," he sniffed back. His words came out rough, as they tended to, but his arm behind my shoulders remained soft and inviting. "Our race as a whole is far more intelligent than those miserable goody-goodys are. Anti-Fairies are either kabouters if their counterparts are kabouters, or pilots if their counterparts are gynes."

I raised my head. "Why do we call Fairies goody-goodys? What does it mean?"

Anti-Buster considered the question. "Picture Adelinda von Strangle with her staff shoved up her tail end during an address to the entire Supreme Fairy Council, defending her latest nitpicky addition to Da Rules, claiming it will lead to happiness for poor Fairies when really, her new policies are intended to infringe upon us."

I snickered softly, my mood lightening flake by flake. "So, you're not a drone, Anti-Buster. But surely you daydream you could have been High Count or Countess as opposed to your younger half-brrrother?"

"Hmph," he said. "That's a road best left untaken, sir. I like my position as First General just fine."

"I suppose you still are presented with at least a cut of the respect you deserve- don't think I didn't notice Winkleglint deferring to the traditional Anti-Fairy method of greeting when we met him in his office today…"

So it went. I held Anti-Buster's secret close to my core, and I didn't intend to ever breathe a word of it.

My first dinner in Fairy World was… a curious affair, to say the least. "Do all Fairies have supper in the dark?" I asked in bewilderment when I joined our hosts in the main building. Just one large table for everyone, in the dining room, in the dark. Sindri and her husband appeared to be the dominant figures present. Seeing as Winkleglint was determined to keep away from his drones, he and his wife had elected to go out to town to enjoy a private meal.

"You don't?" Xena asked, leaning slightly back in her seat so Mr. Thimble could reach past her for the salt shaker. He and the other drones sat with us like equals, though I didn't miss the fact that she didn't offer anything on the table to him.

"What's wrong with candles?" I wanted to know as Anti-Buster scooped what I think was some sort of vegetable coagulation onto my plate.

Sindri wrinkled her nose. "Some of us prefer to be able to taste our food without the seasoning of artificial aromas."

"Oh." Fairies communicated majorly through smells. Right. I supposed that explained the lack of bars on the windows. The starlight remained dim nonetheless, but Fairies were used to it. I ate slowly, not wholly comfortable with the reduced lighting. I couldn't echolocate with a full mouth, and when combined with the dark, I lacked the ability to keep continual tabs on the other eight people seated with me all at the same time. Shame that the energy field could only pick up reads on the overlying mood of all those in the room as a whole. The satisfied purr it gave off was telling, but not telling enough.

I gleaned the Fairy customs gradually during my time in their world. Fruits and vegetables at every large meal was traditional, even for those who shared their wings with carnivorous species. Granted, I understood the practice of cooking up complex meals that mixed food types together, such as lasagna, casserole, and (for the adults, of course) cake, even if I disagreed with it. Funny. I didn't recall them ever asking either Anti-Buster or myself if we wouldn't prefer to know what all went into the concoctions we were eating…

So I don't like my food touching. It's not a crime.

Nor had anyone questioned whether I was a fruit bat, though I suppose Mr. Thimble might have used his background in Fairykind physiology to figure that one out. And of course, I suffered more than my due share of social faux pas. Specifically, what things I shouldn't say at the dining table while scratching at a notorious itch behind my ear. Namely, "Drat these pesky parasites! I swear I've got sprites. I say, where do you think a chap can go to get a flea dip around here, hmm?"

Fairies, as it turns out, are not exactly big on bathing in pesticides. Who knew?

The fact is, Anti-Buster and I didn't remain in Fairy World for long. Winkleglint, as he'd promised, remained confined in his room. Mr. Thimble's mental condition deteriorated rapidly, and I couldn't handle the sound of it. He became jittery in the legs and grabby with his hands. He stressed over everything he couldn't understand or coherently explain, and cried over everything he couldn't stress about. I found him once sobbing on the floor, tucked into a ball, because he'd wanted a spoon for his cereal and the only thing left in the drawer was a knife. Without Winkleglint's presence to pacify him, his energy levels had quickly plunged into hopelessness. Maybe drones did rely on gynes for guidance, I thought as I washed and dried the dishes with Xena, and I hated myself for thinking that way. What was I saying? How could I even consider leaving Mr. Thimble bound to an unbalanced relationship where he wasn't truly happy? Couldn't he see that life with Winkleglint wasn't right for him?

Thimble left one day and came back with a red feather in his curly hair and a calmer bob in his flutter. Soon Winkleglint's three other drones began to mutter about the unfairness of obediently fulfilling their chores while Winkleglint slacked on the promises on his end- hospitality, protection, guidance, comfort, so on. They grumbled about their considerations to seek out other gynes who would better attend to their needs. One of them actually did wander away one afternoon, and with our candles in hand and our nightshirts catching around our feet, we found him alive but crossly silent at the bottom of a cloudchasm. He'd fallen through straight down to Plane 3, and lay weakly nursing a broken arm while sprites buzzed around him to nip his skin and lap up the traces of liquid magic in his blood.

This went on. Rapidly, the drones slacked off in their duties and taunted Winkleglint's wife and daughters when they put their shoulder to the wheel. They teased the horsies and set the whole house of aitvaras hens loose into the woods (and you can only imagine the damage those chickens-turned-dragons wrecked on the natural order of things then!) They cursed anti-fairy pups who couldn't keep their long noses out of everyone else's perfectly pleasant business. From my various look-out points and hidey-holes around the estate, where I would sit with my arms around my knees and my head buried between them, I often overheard Sindri attempting to calm them down. A noble attempt, even for a useless cause.

I threw in the towel on Sunday. Didn't even last a week. I confessed my fears and guilty weights to Anti-Buster, and made the long trek down the main building's corridor to Winkleglint's bedroom. Even rubbing Saturn's lizard figurine between my fingers didn't offer me any comfort. The door was made of wood. I stared at it, and thumped it once with my forehead. It wasn't a knock.

The door cracked open, and it was Winkleglint's wife, whose first name I hadn't actually bothered to learn. "Go ahead," she said when she saw me, floating out. "He's been expecting you."

I knew I had his attention, but I couldn't bear to lift my gaze. My ears twitched forward. "Principal Winkleglint?"

"Come in, Julius."

I slid through the crack, then shut the door behind me and leaned my back against it. My eyes burned. My entire face burned. I studied the shine of the polished wood floor rippling in the candlelight. I imagine that Winkleglint's room was very nice. It probably had charming knick-knacks on every end table and cosy blankets dangling from the back of every chair, and of course, an enormous, cushy bed even bigger and softer than the one in the guest quarters. I chose not to look either around or at him.

"Principal Winkleglint," I said, my mouth thick as though stuck with disgusting slimy cheese, "I shouldn't have interfered with cultural customs I do not understand. After all, I shouldn't like you to interfere in mine. I regret storming in on you that day in school. I'm quite embarrassed. I have learned a lot during my stay at your home, and you have my apologies for my rude inconsideration. It will not happen again."

"Thank you for apologising. No permanent damage was done. The aitvaras hens will be rounded up, and Nathan's arm will heal."

"Please give Mr. Thimble and your other drones back their pheromones and dominance licks. I can see myself they're all much happier receiving those as payment than lagelyn bills and coins."

"I will." Winkleglint tapped his stylus against his desk, which finally urged me to glance up. "Thank you for bringing Thimble's discomfort to my attention. I fell into a pattern of jealous aggressiveness without realising what I was doing or looking at the bigger picture. The problem I had with Scarletfeather has been eliminated. I will talk things over with my drones once we get you sent back to Anti-Fairy World, and we will find a compromise."

I nodded, unable to force even a whispered thank you past the lump in my throat. When he waved his hand, I crept back through the door and started down the hall again. I only made it a few steps before Mr. Thimble appeared with a poof at my side. The scarlet feather was gone from his hair.

"Did you end it?" he asked, wringing his hands.

"I… I'm sorry for causing trouble."

Mr. Thimble flashed past me, bowling me half over in the process. He beat his fist on Principal Winkleglint's wooden door, and I cringed as multiple pounding migraines began to blossom between my ears. Oh, I'd be nursing that headache for hours. "Sir? Sir, can we talk?"

"It's unlocked," I said, wondering how he thought I'd come out. He just looked at me like I was daft. When the knob finally twisted and Winkleglint pulled the door inward, Mr. Thimble leapt forward with a sharp intake of air. I saw him standing in the middle of Winkleglint's bedroom, spinning around with his arms above his head. His nostrils were flared and his mouth partly opened, drinking and smelling the pheromones in the air.

"You like that, Richard?" Winkleglint asked, leaning to one side to make certain I could see him.

"Oh, how I've missed this!" Mr. Thimble continued spinning until he flopped against Winkleglint's big blue bed. Hands scrambling, he grabbed one of the pillows and held it to his face, drinking in the scent entirely. His wings whirred with an audible buzz. Then he slid down to the floor and fell to his side, laughing in spurts and squeezing the pillow with all four of his limbs.

My ears went flat, smouldering at their tips. Principal Winkleglint studied me in amusement. Behind him, Mr. Thimble launched himself from the bed and landed on top of one of the high cabinets instead. He was hardly up there for long before he kicked off and went sprawling across his boss's desk in the far corner of the room. Stacks of books, rolls of parchment, unlit candles, and a scry bowl tumbled off. Both of us winced as the high cabinet crashed to the ground in a thud of wood and shatter of glass. Mr. Thimble sprang up, apologising frantically, but he couldn't keep his face straight, and collapsed back on the bed in another incurable fit of giggles.

"He'll be fine," Principal Winkleglint assured me, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I'll get him calmed down tonight. You can expect him to be back in class tomorrow, serious and teaching as usual. And…" He coughed into his fist. "Next time, I'll confirm the classroom is empty of students before I engage in any words or actions I might come to regret. You have my word."

"Thank you very much for this research opportunity, sir," I managed, absolutely loathing myself for every footstep I took away from the crushing responsibility of Mr. Thimble's mental health, and back towards the days of my carefree summer youth. Principal Winkleglint still didn't see Mr. Thimble as an equal. It wasn't a victory.

Not that you really want to know what a terribly stupid, nosy anti-fairy pup thinks about, I guess.