Beside herself and ill with longing, Eulalia paced her room as a spring storm brewed beneath her skin. 

"I don't understand him," she said. "Why does he want me here?"

She rubbed her arms, wiping away the darkness that had settled on her, sheathing her like fog on her woods at home, chilling her from body to the depths of her soul. What was she to him? A pet dog whose only task was to be brushed and fed on his command. She should show him how even nurtured dogs could bite hard. She should show him teeth.

"Heartless beast! I would kill him if I could!" If she had the nerve. Eulalia pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, her head aching so much the pain was almost a welcomed distraction. Almost. She pulled her hair loose, hair pins spilling on the floor.

Faeries were impish creatures. The whole lot of them, taking what they could, no matter who it hurt. She could run, conceal her appearance, and perhaps wouldn't be missed. But helplessness eclipsed her courage after a failed attempt and fragility made her an easy prey for sharp-toothed fae because of the prince and his dastardly sister.

"To hell with them!" She tugged off her shoes and threw them across the room. They struck the wall with a satisfying thump. They'd murdered Rowan. Stole her from her home and kept her pampered like some gilded peacock raised to be devoured by hawks.

She detested them so much.

Tears prickled her eyes. She blinked profusely; hands drawn into fists. She hated that Andris could inflame her emotions, dwindle her down to a puddle of mush. She stomped her foot and whisked away stray tears. "No, I will not cry because of a Bruma." He didn't deserve her tears—they didn't deserve her tears. She was trying her hardest to not shrivel into a ball of despair, but it wasn't working.

Unable to stand much longer in her woeful state, she slouched to the bed and sat, her hands cold in her lap for the fourth time in her life.

I need to get away. No matter what it takes. I want to go home.

In her sadness, the vines that grew from the walls blossomed pink lily flowers that died as they bloomed, their wilted petals falling to the floor like a woman carefully undressing. No matter how she tried to fight it, her future here might end the same, with her own ghastly death. A plump tear hung on for its life to her lashes. She swiped it away.

Someone knocked.

"Go away. I don't want your company." Eulalia buried her face in her hands, wishing she had the power to fade into the walls, like any person who was now a ghost of themselves.

The door opened and Cosima shuffled into the room. She could tell from the way she walked softly on her feet. "I've brought your lunch," Cosima said, striding to the night table where she set down something heavy. "What have you done to your hair?" She tsked but stopped when Eulalia didn't respond. "What's the matter? Aren't you hungry?"

"Didn't you hear me? I want to be alone," Eulalia said, still hidden behind her hands. Cosima sighed, which irked her. She wasn't a child who needed to be babysat. The death of her loved ones had forced her into adulthood. She was a woman now, no matter how meek.

"It isn't my place to say anything," Cosima began.

"Then don't," Eulalia cut in.

Cosima sat beside her, the warmth of her body pressing against Eulalia's, but she couldn't bring herself to move. "You'd be foolish to believe they still aren't capable of hurting you. Trust me, there are worse than Liliana Bruma and Andris... He isn't the worst of the lot either," Cosima said. "Believe me when I say, it'll be best to keep your mouth shut at times. Keep your wits about you but remember there'll always be a new season for change. I think one will be coming quite soon."

Eulalia lowered her hands, lifting her puffy, red eyes to meet Cosima's. "You don't understand how awful it was, hearing their screams. Knowing that they're..." She choked on the word. "I lost everyone. They killed everyone." Her gaze was keen, begging Cosima to understand. "You can't convince me to trust him. You can't and I won't."

"I won't try," said Cosima, in a whisper.

She would never trust a Bruma, long as the moors were soft and barren. Hoggish beasts those Brumas. Worse than a dozen Mother Annas. Worse than flame, a blizzard on the moors, and Orla's sugarless oat cakes.

Eulalia grabbed her hand, startling the fae. "You can help me."

Cosima shook her head. "I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no." She made to stand but Eulalia grabbed her hand again, eyes wide and shining.

"Please, Cosima. You can help me get home."

Cosima gently released her hand from Eulalia's. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Her dark eyes fleeted about the room, searching. "Because I don't want to."

Crushed, Eulalia's fingers tightened on the edge of the bed.

How cruel.

Faeries couldn't lie and had no patience for tact it seemed. Cosima took the cover off the dish she'd brought in. "Now if you want to turn into a bag of skin and bone you can but killing yourself won't make anyone else suffer, so eat."

Eulalia turned her head away. The still steaming food tickled her nose with aromas that made her stomach rumble—spiced fish, bread plumper and more golden than she'd ever seen, sweet faerie fruits, apples, grapes, and goose plums in the deepest shades, honeyed tarts, and a sparkling gold liquid with tiny bubbles bursting at the top. Her mouth watered. She hadn't eaten since the afternoon of her capture—stale bread and cheese.

Cosima brought the tray onto the bed. "Eat," she pressed, and seemed pleased as Eulalia's teeth sank into a tart, flavor bursting in her mouth in the most miraculous taste, a warm flaky crust with honey inside. A bit of saliva dribbled down her chin.

Cosima smiled. "See. You feel better already, don't you?"

Eulalia was certain she didn't but was too busy eating to retort. Long as she was here, hidden away in this room, she'd never be okay.

"My mother always said that one could think better on a full stomach, so eat as much as you want," Cosima said. "Now, I'll leave you in peace." She paused on her way out, eyeing the tangle of vines and dead flowers Eulalia hadn't meant to grow.

She gave Eulalia one last grave look before she left the room.

Eulalia hadn't realized how ravenous she was, cleaning the plate within ten minutes of Cosima leaving. With a full belly, she fell backwards into the bed sheets, sleep on the edge of her vision. She dreamt lucidly of the moors, brown and wild as she remembered and of Rowan—murmuring in her sleep words she forgot when she woke the next morning.

She had been listening to the birds outside her window when the maids came in to dress her.

Cosima delivered her breakfast of sliced bread sopping in purple jam, tea cakes topped with a thick layer of cream, honey scones, and eggs so fluffy it melted on her tongue. She washed it all down with sweet faerie wine.

In the early hours of the morning, before the maids had arrived, she'd had time to think about a few things. Having a change of heart, she saw that callousness would get her nowhere with the maids, no matter how easy it felt to succumb to her resentment.

Her mama had always said that honey could soothe sores that salt would only inflame. She had to stay faithful to her beliefs, until it was time to leave this miserable country. Yet, still, she wouldn't speak a word about Mairwen to the maids or her altercation with the prince, choosing instead to hold her tongue, not knowing who to trust.

"I need to go to Panoply to buy some supplies and thought you'd want to join me," said Everlid, tightening the laces on Eulalia's dress that formed a kind of corset.

"What's Panoply?" asked Eulalia, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"The market. Getting out of this room might do you some good."

"Do I have a choice?"

"We always have a choice. Whether you live or die in this room is your choice to make," said Everlid, tugging hard the strings on Eulalia's dress, making her wince.

"Do you have to tug so hard? You're hurting me." Each intake of breath pinched her ribs.

"What is beauty without a bit of pain?" The maids exchanged agreeing glances.

"All I've known is pain since I first stepped foot here." Eulalia braced herself against the door of the armoire as Everlid tugged again.

"Well, hold on to it. It might be of some use to you," said Cosima.

When her dress was tight enough to rearrange her organs, the maids clothed her in a velvety blue cloak to keep her warm. Her shoes were more practical than the last pair—high-top women's boots with a short, square heel, perfect for withstanding the weather.

Eulalia might have argued that there was no need to treat her like a princess, that she was more than capable of dressing herself, had she not known they did it on behalf of their prince. As her only source of contact, she would put up with their prying no matter how uncomfortable they made her. The maids would have it no other way either.

"How will we get to the market?" she asked Everlid, who was on her knees tying the laces of Eulalia's boots.

"The way we always have." Everlid stood, giving Eulalia one last looking over. She pulled the hood of the cloak over Eulalia's head. She and Cosima donned their own cloaks, both black and made of a thinner fabric.

"What does that mean?" she pestered. She'd seen no methods of transportation on her last trip outdoors and was curious about how the faeries got around.

"You ask too many questions," Everlid muttered.

"How will I know if I don't ask?"

Everlid clucked her tongue. "I'll warn you now, it'll be best to keep to our side. No wandering, unless you want to be someone's lunch." She wagged her finger. "Do you understand, Eulalia?"

But what would want to eat her?

Eulalia answered with a nod. "Of course, I understand."

"Then we better get going." Everlid took up the woven basket she'd brought with her and led them out of the room.

Eulalia followed without a word. She didn't spare another glance at the bedroom, anticipating a trip to the market more than she should have. Maybe not all her luck had run out yet. If she could find a way home and put this ordeal behind her, she could figure out how to carry on in a world without Rowan.

How could she move on when waking up in a bed that wasn't hers, day in and day out, refueled her agony. Surrounded by the Brumas, she was scarcely herself. She had to get back to Hills Hallow, even if all that was left of Hampstead House was ashes and soot. She would be better off there than here in Mondegreen, waiting to find out what kind of person the prince truly was. What did he want from her anyway?

Eulalia wasn't sure and didn't want to find out.

"This weather certainly wasn't meant for the warm-blooded," said Everlid, gazing up at the sky. "I hope we won't have trouble with Tamsin today. She nearly threw me from her back last I rode her." She shot a glare at Eulalia who had stopped alongside her. "Come along then. Follow me. Just a few more steps to the stables."

Stables?

Eulalia hurried to keep up with Everlid's swift pace. "Did you say stables?" she asked, steadying herself on a patch of frozen snow. "I don't think I've ever ridden a horse."

"Who said anything about a horse?" Everlid kept marching, tramping across ice, never once losing her balance. When they'd emerged from the house, they'd diverged off the path Eulalia had taken the day before, making a right around the manor that was to her dissatisfaction no different. There was no glamour of warmth, the sun swaddled by clouds.

Cosima laughed. "Don't worry, dear. You'll get the hang of it. It's as simple as swimming."

"I don't swim either," said Eulalia, panicking.

"Then it'll be best you keep quiet and watch what we do." A gust of wind swept their way, blowing off Everlid's hood. She left it down. The tattered cloaks couldn't be warm enough for either of the maids, threads dangling from their hems, but never once did Everlid shiver. For a faerie of autumn, it was as if she'd been forged from frost.

More prying would only irritate Everlid further, so Eulalia shook away her inquisitiveness, deciding to wait to find out what manner of animal could be in the stables. She didn't have to wonder long as they neared a small building, its English ivy almost obscuring the front doors.

"This is nothing to be afraid of." She thought out loud.

Everlid whisked the doors open and they went in. At first, it appeared to Eulalia that all the stalls were empty, though the odor of animal sweat was potent.

"Come out. Come out you lovely creatures." Everlid moseyed to a stall, plucking a bright red apple from her basket. "I have treats for all of you," she said. "As long as you play nicely of course."

Eulalia waited, not batting an eye in case she missed the creature. She tilted over slightly to get a better look but kept a fair distance between her and the stalls. In a land brimming with fae magic, like what she'd seen yesterday, she would bet the creatures weren't entirely ordinary. She bit her lip and waited, anxiety weaving through her stomach.

"You're shy today, aren't you?" Everlid said. "I guess I'll keep these apples all to myself."

The creature grunted.

Teasingly, Everlid brought the apple to her lips. "Last chance."

A pale white face, flanked by a set of antlers emerged, and nipped the apple from Everlid's hand. "They're reindeers," said Eulalia, braving a step closer. She'd never seen one in real life before, except she used to read Harlow a Christmas themed picture book that had the loveliest illustrations of them—Christmases Little Helpers. It had become her own tradition since Madam never celebrated the holiday.

"Yup, and they're quite fickle too so be nice to them, unless you want to be skewered by an antler." Cosima looked on, enamored, as awed as Eulalia.

Everlid went down the row, tossing the reindeers apples and carrots. Eulalia moved closer as fear left her. They were all varying shades of white, some with brown antlers—smooth true bone. They paid Eulalia no mind, chomping down on their treats. She reached out her hand, trying to pet one without it noticing. It raised its wide, dark eyes, holding her gaze in the most humanlike way she had never seen in an animal back home. She drew her hand away, understanding. It nudged the apple with its muzzle farther into a corner.

"Okay, we're ready to go. I'll take Tamsin. Cosima, you take Godelyn, and you..." Everlid shoved the reins into Eulalia's chest. "You'll take Brunhild." She jerked her thumb at the third stall. "Be sure not to squeeze too tightly when you're riding her. She doesn't like it one bit."

Eulalia clutched the reins, not quite sure what to do.

"Get a move on. I want to be back before lunch," Everlid said.

Cosima patted Eulalia's shoulder. "Don't you worry. In all my years riding them, I've never fallen off. They're intelligent creatures."

As Everlid and Cosima busied themselves with getting their reindeer ready, Eulalia drifted to Brunhild's stall. She opened the door gently, not wanting to frighten her. Brunhild grunted, not looking too pleased to be stuck with her. Eulalia eased towards her, holding out the reins as if Brunhild was an untamed dog she needed to leash. "You don't have to be afraid," she said. "I'm going to put this around you. All you'll have to do is be still."

Brunhild grunted again, then to Eulalia's surprise lowered her head, sinking into a crouch, making it easier for Eulalia to ease onto her back.

"Good girl, Brunhild," she said, but she wasn't quite sure what to do with the reins. "Cosima!" She yelled for the maid. "I'm afraid I need your help."

Cosima came to her right away. "What is it?"

Eulalia held up the reins. "This is harder than it looks."

Cosima took the reins from her, and Eulalia watched as she fastened it around Brunhild, which wasn't as complicated as she thought it would be, and Brunhild didn't seem to mind at all. So gentle she was.

"Thank you, Cosima," Eulalia said, grateful that where Everlid was harsh, Cosima more than made up for it with her thoughtfulness.

"Not a problem, dear." She smiled over her shoulder, leaving Eulalia to mount Brunhild on her own.

"Okay, Brunhild. It's only you and me now," she said. "Hopefully, you'll like me well enough." Brunhild sank into a crouch again. Eulalia swung one leg over her, and she took hold of the reins, nearly slipping off the other side as Brunhild rose, staggering forward.

"Whoa. Easy there, girl." Eulalia held onto the reins tightly, fearing any move Brunhild made would send her tumbling off her. She tried to get comfortable, but it was the most unnatural feeling riding a reindeer. She had no comparison for the sensation. "How am I supposed to get her to move?" she asked.

"You just tell her where you're going. She'll understand," Cosima said.

Just tell her?

Eulalia furrowed her brow. She rocked as Brunhild moved, still feeling uneasy. She remembered not to squeeze too hard as Everlid had warned and eased up a little. "Okay, Brunhild, you dear sweet girl," she said. "Take me to Panoply."

She yelped as Brunhild plodded out of the stall. Cosima and Everlid were waiting, barebacked on their own reindeers.

"Let's go Tamsin, Godelyn, and Brunhild," Everlid said from the front of the line.

A thrill made Eulalia feel as if the air had whooshed from her lungs, and like that they were off and away through the untamed land of Mondegreen.