Shoulders drooping, saddled by guilt, Eulalia clutched the reins until it branded her skin.

She was trying not to give herself away, but the maids hadn't noticed how quiet she'd become, not that they would've minded the change in her mood.

While she moped, Cosima and Everlid traded gossip on the latest comings and goings in the Bruma's court. Who'd been spotted with this faerie or that one, who'd worn a dress that was out of season, what maid had been caught stealing the silverware again.

It was little more than noise to her ears.

Her mind replayed the most heinous thoughts, how the elf had crumbled beneath her touch, a curse so wretched she couldn't stop picturing it. How she'd left him in the alleyway to be found by some poor soul.

Desperately, she turned her gaze upwards, searching the sky for some miraculous pardon. She took the scent of smoke in the air but saw no signs of a nearby fire. Doubtful, she shook her head and sniffed.

The smell vanished-a mind's trick, mocking her.

"Godly Father, if you're in this world, forgive me," she said. But could she forgive herself? No birds called out as they wandered past Gambol. Not a sparrow to be seen, least of all her grace flying in on white wings.

At Hampstead House, she had never even killed the cockroaches, the ants, or the mice that lay droppings in the cupboards. Her mother had made sure to instill in her the importance of faith and kindness, but in this new world was there truth to any of it?

Eulalia allowed the gentle sway of Brunhild to soothe her frayed spirit as her mama would have when she was a child.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the manor. It appeared in the distance, spires nearly brushing the cerulean morning sky, hard to miss since there was not much else around. They rode the reindeers all the way to the top of the cliffside, the sea sitting below like some forlorn creature, almost motionless, as if eased into stillness by the sun on its back. She envied its serenity. They took the same path to the stables, the reindeers' hooves fitting neatly in their former tracks. When they at last reached the stables, she dismounted Brunhild and led her into her stall, grateful to feel the ground beneath her feet once more.

"Thank you for getting me here safely," she said, stroking Brunhild's muzzle. "You're the kindest thing I've known here."

Brunhild eased into her touch, her warm breath condensed on the frosty air.

"Sweet, gentle beast," Eulalia cooed. "At least that makes one of us." After all she'd endured, the only thing on her mind was to shut herself away for some time if she could bear it. "I'll be seeing you again," she said to Brunhild before she stepped away.

Without a word to the maids, she marched for the one place that reminded her of her woods in Hills Hallow. Glamour or not, maybe she'd have a sit in the shade beneath one of its trees, as light filtered through its leaves, and listen to the birds sing their songs.

Maybe she'd even dip her fingers in the pond, let the water wash away her discomfort, to get the feel of the elf off her skin. Let her nerves settle. If she wanted to escape Mondegreen at all, she needed to be more cautious of these creatures.

"So that's it then?" said Everlid, stopping her as she reached the exit, her feet toeing the line outdoors. "You can't even thank us?"

At first, Eulalia was uncertain whether the question had been directed towards her. A brief glance over her shoulder answered the question. Everlid glowered, her sharpened gaze like daggers in Eulalia's back.

"I'm sorry, what?" Eulalia asked, bewildered.

"After all we've done for you, you can't even thank us?" said Everlid. "How could you be so ungrateful?"

Wide-eyed, Eulalia faced her. "It wasn't exactly the best day of my life but thank you anyway."

"Not the best day of your life?" Everlid scoffed. "One might think the change of scenery would have done you some good, halfling."

Eulalia took a step towards her, too rattled to cower beneath her frankness today. "Don't pretend you did it because you wanted to. I'm certain your prince had something to do with it."

"He's done more for you than you deserve. Maybe if you weren't so busy sulking, you'd open your eyes and see that. If it weren't for him, you'd be locked away in a dungeon somewhere or worse."

"I'm sick of being reminded how grateful I should be to be their prisoner. What were you expecting, that I'd forget about everything I've lost in a day? Just stop it. Stop lying to me. I can't take it."

Everlid, not taking well to Eulalia's tone, fixed her with a disparaging look. "Prisoner? Is that what you're calling being pampered, having the luxury of a gentry you surely don't deserve. Forgive me for thinking taking you out with me was a good distraction from your problems. Next time, I'll leave you to rot in that room."

"Do what you need to, but I'm not going to beg for anyone's company. Not his and least of all yours. Don't think I'll ever forget so easily what your kind has done to me."

"Our kind?" Everlid looked to Cosima, but Cosima was doing all that she could to avoid her gaze. "To think I thought-"

"It was your mistake. Not mine," said Eulalia, trembling from how much their argument upset her. "So don't expect me to thank you."

"I won't be making that mistake again. How about that?"

"Good then. Better for all of us."

"You humans are all the same, always wanting more. Never seeing what's right in front of you."

Eulalia turned her back, so they wouldn't see her on the verge of tears. "If only you knew half of what I want."

With that, leaving Everlid jeering behind her, she treaded from the stables to be out of earshot of the maids before she heard more of Everlid's true feelings for her, the poor halfling girl, alone, forgotten by everything and everyone she held dear.

Silly of her to think they hadn't minded her company. Who was she to them? Who were they to her? Of course, they didn't care. Why should they?

How could she be anything but grateful while living in the wolf's den, when she was no better than a sparrow in a golden cage?

Caged birds had no allegiance to anyone, no matter the luxuries it had been fed.

It hurt more than it should that the maids were so cavalier about her feelings. So potent was her misery that Eulalia covered the distance to the flower garden in a shorter time than she'd expected. She felt her annoyance thaw as she stepped into it-such a spell it had casted on her. Birds sang, the sun slung high in the sky, like a giant sunflower, dripping its nectar-imbued warmth over everything.

Eulalia glanced around for another soul, but found herself entirely alone, free from Andris's swamping presence. She knelt at the pond, her reflection gazing up at her. There I am, she thought. After killing that elf, and her argument with Everlid, she'd been afraid she'd lost herself. That this new magic that had sprouted up in her had changed her for the worst. But no. It hadn't. She smiled as a fish peeked at her from beneath a lily pad.

They marveled at each other, Eulalia with her sloe eyes and the fish with its round, large gaze. She dipped her finger in the pond, teasing it. It swam closer but not close enough to touch. "You're a curious one, aren't you," she said. "But where are your friends?"

No sooner had she said it, that the other fish came to greet her from their hiding places, swimming up to kiss each of her fingertips. Eulalia laughed. "I wish I could spend all day with you," she said to her new friends. "You're all so lovely."

In time, she drew her hand away, letting it rest in the grass, and her companions swam away to do whatever suited their fish-brained bodies.

Eulalia stood, wandering over to a fruit tree, as its goose plums swayed in a fine breeze. She plucked one from its branch, held it tight in her fist, marveling at the realness of it, despite Andris calling it a glamour. She brought it to her nose. It even smelled real, like the ones Cosima had brought to her room the other day.

She took a bite, her teeth sinking past its flesh to its tender insides, expecting a meaty sweetness on her tongue, but instead her mouth received a shock of cold. She yelped, the fruit tumbled from her fingers, falling to a heap of snow at her feet. All around her, the garden began to wilt, its green leaves aged brown, the buzz of insects went silent, the pond frosted over, the bustle of wings gone still. She could only watch helplessly as what once flourished was decayed and dying-the once gentle breeze now a frigid gust.

Please, not this. Not now.

Eulalia shut her eyes, unable to watch any longer as her only source of joy withered. A sickening thought grew in her mind that this was her. Like the garden, she was rotting from the inside out and could do nothing to help it.

And when the wind blew, sweeping the hood of her cloak off her head, she could've sworn it was death's touch she felt, running its frosty finger along her cheek.

Nearly a week went by since their trip to Panoply.

Eulalia had no company other than Cosima and Everlid, though the maids did a careful job of keeping their lips sealed, while they dressed her and filled her to bursting with faerie food. So far, she saw she'd never get what she needed from them. When hour by hour desperation seized her nerves and she wished for someone-the mighty, howling wind perhaps-to whisk her away. To take her home to Hills Hallow. To Rowan.

The answer arrived unsought one night as she lay awake, turning over in her mind what had happened in the alleyway, unable to sleep because death had followed her into her dreams too. If anyone had found the elf's body, no one had suspected her of it. She supposed it was a good thing that the law in Mondegreen was different from home.

Death didn't carry as much weight here, and a dagger through a heart perhaps wouldn't make a faerie bat an eye.

One faerie was all she needed to do the trick. One deal for a few years of her life on the moors. The moors, lush with wildness. How she longed for it.

To see her home again, to know for certain that Rowan was dead, she saw him everywhere, in the shadows on the walls, standing beside her in a mirror, she'd have to be more wolf than sparrow, less lissome and stealthier. More cunning with an insatiable appetite, and a quicksilver tongue from which to spew forth lies and deceit.

She saw that the only way through the Bruma's court was to be more fae than human. Eulalia mulled over her plan, dreamily imagining her triumph. She'd never been particularly cunning, but all that she would do she'd do it for love. Love and Rowan.

"Forever and always."

She brushed her fingers against her lips, as if shocked that those words had come from them. She and Rowan had been fourteen the first time they kissed, the first time they said those words after getting caught by Madam.

It was an easy promise that they'd always be there for each other. Now look what had happened, the unfairness of it left her in a constant state of despair. She saw him everywhere-a face in the clouds-but never the real him.

"Please, leave me be." Eulalia shut her eyes, willing away the image of the dead elf with one of home.

She didn't sleep at all through the night.

"I am allowed to leave this room without you?" she asked Cosima the following morning, while the maid fussed her hair into a plait that hung down her back, fresh winter flowers woven through, some hellebore and primroses.

Cosima shrugged. "I don't see what's keeping you."

"I thought that-"

"You thought what?" Cosima's fingers stilled in Eulalia's hair.

Eulalia shook her head. "Nothing... Never mind."

"You aren't in chains, dear. If you want to leave, then leave." Cosima waved her hand at the door.

Eulalia swallowed, saying nothing else as she was dressed then once again left alone. She waited a few minutes at the windows where the maids had left her. The late morning light had begun to melt the snow that had once clung to the windowpanes, even managing to ease her disquiet mind. Spring was near. It was only a week ago she and Lena had laid on a thin blanket at Hampstead House, both blissful, shoes abandoned. Eulalia drunk on spring's mirth. She hadn't answered Lena's question then, would she marry Rowan if Madam had let her. Now that she was without him, was it too late to say yes because, yes, she would without a second thought. Love, true love, only came around once in a lifetime.

She would never find another like him again.

She waited another minute before she left the room, thoughts of him stirring her courage and putting fervor in her stride. The problem was, she had no idea where to begin or who to talk to. In a house so large, it was a challenge remembering every face she saw.

After a while of roaming the top floor of the manor, finding little except for the maids, who were too busy to help her and, if they were anything like Cosima and Everlid, loyal to their prince, she descended to the kitchen. Kept on the second to last floor of the manor, a windowless room smaller than she'd imagined, but no less welcoming with its forever pungent aroma of baking bread, rosemary, and thyme.

Silver pots and pans hung on the farthest wall, all polished to a high gleam. Beneath the pots and pans, bowls and other mixing supplies lined a white table. An uncooked whale of arcus fish lay on a cutting board. A long wooden table sat in the center of the room, covered by heaps of plates, food piled high on each, apples and plums as plump as a fist, maple and honey glazed hams and roast goose, still glistening from the heat, all manner of cakes. Some with layers so high they nearly reached the light, dressed in grapes, blueberries and pears, others covered in a cream that dribbled down the side.

The few faeries in the room didn't pay Eulalia any mind, each attending to the fare, their spindly fingers working with precision. There was nothing remotely human-like about any of them, lofty and thinner than her ring finger with tawny skin, almond shaped brown eyes and long, pointed noses. They reminded Eulalia of overgrown stick insects.

She cleared her throat loudly.

A young faerie stirring a bubbling pot at the stove glanced her way, quickly dipping her chin when Eulalia caught her eye. She looked more human than the others, making her more vulnerable, an easier conquest. Eulalia plastered on her sweetest grin and made her way over. "I think I must've gotten lost," she said, having another look around the kitchen. "I've never been down to the kitchen before. All the better because I'm starving." She rubbed her stomach, not that she was the slightest bit hungry. It was all for show.

"If it's food you're after, you'll have to wait," said the girl, her wide, gray eyes still set on the pot, her long, dark hair almost obscuring her face, her skin pale as moonflowers, pink lips chapped and peeling.

"I'm Eulalia by the way," said Eulalia. "You might not have-"

"I know who you are." The girl took the spoon out of the pot, knocking it on the rim to let loose the thick, red substance. It smelled a lot like stew, but she couldn't be sure.

"Do you have a name?" Eulalia asked. "What should I call you?"

The girl said nothing as she set the spoon down on the counter beside the pot. She moved as if she didn't have much strength to do so. Eulalia leaned in closer to her, taking the scent of lemon on her skin. "I was hoping you could help me with something."

The girl let out a bated sigh, staring into the substance in the pot, steam wafting from it. "Whatever it is I can't help you," she said, at last setting her watery eyes on Eulalia.

"I don't want to beg. You see, I'm looking for someone. Someone who can..." She glanced at the other faeries and lowered her voice. "Someone to take me away from here. In return, I can give you whatever you need."

It wasn't true but she would say what she needed to get what she wanted.

"I'm sorry but I can't-"

Eulalia grabbed her arm, squeezing tighter than she should have. "All I need is a name. That's all. I promise, then you'll never hear from me again."

"And what do you think they would do to me if I did?" She tugged her arm out of Eulalia's grasp.

"Whatever punishment you'll receive won't be any harsher than mine has been."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "How selfish of you," she hissed. "And here I thought a halfling wouldn't be as cold-hearted as they are." Her gaze darted to the other fae in the room, then back to Eulalia. "I can't help you. They wouldn't let me even if I wanted to."

"You're human," Eulalia said, finally understanding. How could she not have seen it sooner when there was a plainness to the girl that no faerie would want to match.

The girl wiped her hands in her apron. "Yes," she said, bowing her head as if ashamed. "Trust me, being a halfling is better for you than what I am." She took up the spoon once more to stir the pot, putting an end to their argument.

Eulalia had heard of changelings, human children who were plucked from their mother's breast by fae, never to be seen again. She would have never thought they were keeping humans, but Liliana had mentioned something of the sort back at Hampstead House, hadn't she? The horridness of it made her teeter backwards.

"I'm sorry for whatever they've done to you," she said. "I know it isn't fair."

She didn't expect a response and didn't get one. Without more to say and feeling as if she'd failed, she whirled on her heels, heading for the stairs that would take her away from the kitchen, with no other place to go but the solitary confinement of the bedroom.

"If it's an escape you're looking for," said a silky voice from behind her, stopping her at the door's threshold, "you'll find him in Gambol. For the faeries there have no ties to our future king."

There was that name again. Gambol. No sooner had it crossed Eulalia's mind that she remembered what Cosima had said.

"Thank you." She turned her head over her shoulder to regard the faerie who bowed. Those profound, dark eyes held Eulalia's gaze steadily. "I am in your debt," said Eulalia, her chin tilted up now that she had what she needed.

Even so, Cosima's warning was sonorous in her mind. Gambol was where the revelry lived. There'd be no use trying to go home if she wound up dead. Still, she had to try for the sake of knowing if Rowan was truly dead.

And if he longed for her the way she longed for him.