IF I MADE the effort not to look directly into Edva's eyes, I could ignore the knowing glint.

I knew that he knew what had happened —whether by magic or simple overhearing. If he asked, I was not going to deny it. Though if he refrained from inquiring about creaking bed frames, I would know that he had a certain amount of respectability.

Georgia, surprisingly, was not saying anything —she was likely preoccupied by the prosthetic pointed ears that now pinched her own. The Faerie had worked on her disguise while Adam and I had still been upstairs, and I was impressed by his speed and efficiency.

Georgia did not share in the admiration —she actually looked quite miserable.

"You make quite the Elf," I commented, looking from the cyan war-paint to her loose and ruffled hair decorated with vivid purple and green and blue feathers. She gave me a look of disbelief.

There was a musk of Elven scent wafting from her as well. If not monitored closely, she could very easily pass for a creature of magic. A smaller set of bow and arrows than Edva's were also strapped to her back. I wondered if she even knew how to wield them.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much of a choice," the teenager grumbled, tugging at her grass skirt. "Apparently, pretending to be a Beta-born Elf who had fought in the war on Earth was the best option."

It was actually perfectly plausible —and it would completely excuse her human scent. Though I knew that some higher Fae possessed superior senses.

"Be careful not to use contractions when you speak," Edva spoke up, shaking his head. "Creatures of magic speak incredibly formally."

"So I've —I mean...so I have noticed," Georgia tried. Then she sighed. "This is stupid."

"Would you rather be captured?" I offered the alternative.

"Now that you mention it, she could always say nothing on the journey," the Faerie suggested, shrugging.

Georgia's nose wrinkled in offence.

"You have to have more faith in her than that," I defended the girl. "She could pick it up."

"How about I just speak when spoken to," the teenager then huffed, before flopping down into a chair.

Some underlying sincerity in the intended sarcasm made me frown with concern.

"By the way, Elves do not slouch and trudge," I told her. "They are a proud race. You need to show a lot more confidence in yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," she brushed it off, rolling her eyes. Then she paused and clutched her stomach. "Is there any chance that we can have something for breakfast?"

"There is bread, and cooked and cured meat by the stove. I hope you like deer," answered our host.

Georgia shot to her feet. "I don't think I mind."

I turned to Edva, who was now smiling expectantly. "Thank you for helping with the disguises," I said. "And for suggesting them in the first place."

"Of course," the Faerie scoffed. "You are welcome."

"And the Elf scent? How did you do that?" I asked.

"Essence of Dryadalis qui lignum," he said. "Meaning 'tree Elf'. I happened to purchase it from a quiet market —it was necessary for a healing salve."

"Of course it was," I smiled.

"It really was," he insisted. "I understand that there are certain things that other people believe about my kind, but I can assure you that they do not apply to me. I keep my oaths, and my word."

"You did almost kill me when we met for the first time," I brought up. "In case that slipped your mind."

"I was merely testing your resolve," Edva offered, shrugging. "I saw an honour in you."

"Is that why you housed and fed us?"

"Yes, well," the Faerie then said a little more seriously, "I did that because I admire you."

I arched a brow. "What precisely about me?" I asked.

"You are unafraid," he answered. "You fear not because you know not. And you do not feel, either. Grief will never approach your door, and invade your home. Even if you are faced with death, Purple...emptiness replaces what most describe as petrification."

I blinked. I understood why he would say that —from where it had come. And perhaps if I had been a few decades younger, I could agree with him. But the reality was that Earth had changed me. Humans had taught me. I was no longer a standard Dreamcatcher —and I had known fear. Perhaps not about death, but definitely about the things before it.

Had I become afraid of living?

Death was an easy way out. I would not have to endure the memory of my childhood and those who claimed to care for me. I would not have to face them, or the mistreatment. Perhaps then death was rather cowardly. Edva was right —I had been running; and not just from Adam. I had been running for a very long time.

Now I was tired.

"...Do you really believe that I feel nothing about death and loss?" I eventually responded.

"Your families are not quite like ours," the Faerie pointed out. "You have the labels, but not the relations."

"That is true," I admitted. "But I am learning that I am not quite the average Dreamcatcher."

Edva grunted in acknowledgement.

In truth, I would not bat an eyelash if my mother, father and anyone else were to die. The Faerie was right about that as well.

Yet...if it were Georgia, or Adam, I could not see myself ever remaining the same afterwards. I knew that Dreamcatchers did not feel for others —but that was what I had spent my existence doing.

I felt their joy and warmth and hope. And I felt their anguish; I felt their pain.

It was silent for a while, but I did not wish to be left with my thoughts. Especially when they were jumbled up fragments of a sister who felt nothing but contempt, a manor; and of a human man for whom I no longer knew the appropriate title.

Could I call him a friend? Though casual friends did not do what we had done. I had been taught that intimacy was reserved for lovers, but I was aware of things such as causal hook-ups.

"About the disguise," I then spoke up, unwilling to uncover an answer, "What did you do about the scent?"

"Masking the girl's scent will be the most difficult," Edva said gravely. "On the older human, I smelled something odd. Essences of Fae."

That might have been leftover offences —or defences, I had no way of knowing unless I were to ask him directly —from the war. "So, the other one will be disguised as higher Fae?" I guessed.

Edva paused thoughtfully, but did not even attempt to hide his amusement about the other one being used as a reference. "...I take it that the night did not go as you envisioned?" he purred.

I tensed, unprepared to answer. "I...well, actually..."

"Oh, so you did bed him," he concluded.

I flinched. "How did you —"

"—I could hear the floors shifting," he admitted. I bowed my head in mortification. "Do not worry. The small one probably did not hear anything. And I do apologise —that bed is rather old."

Georgia was too busy stuffing her face with bread and venison in the kitchenette to hear our conversation; and for that I was relieved.

A grey blush then flooded my cheeks as I remembered all of it —and words were still stuck in my throat. But as I had resolved: I was not going to deny it.

"It is, of course, not any of my business," the Faerie then admitted, noting my discomfort.

I nodded, but managed to choke out, "But it is your bed."

"Well, not personally, at least," he mused. "I will spare you the details about whose it was, but do not worry. The bed has not been used in many moons."

That did make me feel better —but I could not bring myself to say the words to express it. Many moons? How long had he been a lone king?

"I washed the sheets," I blurted out instead.

"Thank you for that," Edva chuckled.

"Well, it was a justified obligation, given the —"

I wished that I could stop talking. Thankfully, Adam's descent down the wooden stairs interrupted me.

"Good rising," the Faerie greeted, smirking.

Adam grunted sourly —and that was as far as he let that conversation go. He sank into a chair; his expression one of quiet and thoughtfulness.

"I would have thought that you would be in a good mood today, human," Edva then continued, unfazed, and crossing one extremely long leg over the other. He glanced at me, winking. I returned his taunt with a desperate plead for him to shut up.

"So had I," Adam actually responded. "Your cure worked, so I owe you that much of gratitude."

"Oh, he can be polite," the Faerie chuckled, still looking at me. I glanced at the beautifully painted wall as he then addressed Adam again. "And I am glad that you accomplished your mission."

"Now we can go home," Adam clipped.

"No," said Edva, pointing to the window, "now you have to make it through Winfrost."

"His disguise," I quipped, prompting the Faerie.

"Right," Edva sighed, rising to his feet. "For you, I thought that dressing as a higher Fae would be the most believable. You are tall, well built and well-spoken."

"Okay...?" Adam drawled, his eyebrows knitting.

"All you need is a dowsing of Fae essence, fine linen and prosthetic ears to complete the façade," said the Faerie. "Luckily, the males in my family since my twice-great grandfather have been statesmen."

"Robes from a godawful number of centuries ago?" the soldier remarked mockingly, rolling his eyes. Then he sighed, "Wonderful."

"Adam," I quipped, shaking my head.

"No, he is right," Edva smirked. "They need an airing."

To my surprise, Adam actually cracked a slight smile.

"Well, what about me?" I asked. "I know that I am a creature of magic but will I not stand out in my Earthly attire if the humans are dressed as Beta-born?"

"That is true," the Faerie mused. He looked me up and down, mentally measuring. "...I think there is something into which you can slip."

A while later I was standing in Edva's room in front of a large chest against the wall. In it held a few gowns and pants and shirts; some made of silk and pure frost. They had belonged to his sister, mother and father. They were indeed fine —so fine that I was baffled by what the Faerie chose to wear now.

Edva was beside me, thoughtful with a hand over his mouth as his wings flittered uncertainly.

"It was the war," he suddenly spoke. I turned to face him, not yet following. "My father defied Winfrost's king, when he gave the decree that anyone who refused to fight was disloyal to their kingdom," he explained. "Even though we were all given the choice, king Lasak made it his mission to emotionally blackmail Winfrost into fighting in that fucking massacre."

I drew an unsteady breath, utterly taken aback. "If it was a choice, why was your father scorned?" I asked, frowning. "No one was forced."

Edva growled lowly and shook flecks of snow from his wings onto the floorboards. "He was expected," he hissed through his pointed teeth. "As a member of the King's court, he had no choice."

"That is unjust."

"Do you think those fat bastards in that castle give a damn about that?" he spat. "My father had worked his fucking backside off for decades; trying to make a better life for the family he was expecting. Life is not easy for a Faerie, Purple. If you do not claw your way to power, you are no one. My father knew that much."

I knew. Not personally, but I had seen what that sort of disgusting hierarchy had done to my people. "...And what became of him?" I asked.

"He was destroyed," Edva said flatly. "Broken, bit by bit, beginning with his wings. Then they burned the remains. I was not permitted to bury him."

"That must have broken your mother in turn," I breathed. "I cannot imagine the grief."

"Indeed you cannot," clipped the Faerie. "But yes, my mother fell to grief. She loved my father —they were mates. My sister...she fought in the war."

I gasped. "She volunteered...on purpose?"

"Do not mock her," Edva said icily. I bowed my head apologetically. "...My sister, Vassenia, died a most valiant death. The most valiant death. She died fighting the mortals' government."

I stiffened. This was hard —not only for him. Hearing about this hurt. "...I am sorry," I offered, and meant it.

He did not reply, but he gave a slight nod.

Edva had no family left; Fate had taken them. And he had no mate to fill that void. Did he feel unworthy of love? Perhaps, after his grief, if he were to leave the wood he might find that soulmate.

"So...you kept your family's clothes," I then murmured. "No offence intended, but it is quite morbid."

"It reminds me," he said quietly, "that they were here. That I tried to stop them, but they had courage," he hissed, turning away sharply. "And I did not."

"Edva, the war was not your fault," I reasoned. "Do not blame yourself for others' decisions."

"I was still a coward," he insisted. "I still am —hiding in these dangerous woods for all of these years instead of going to face the new king."

I could think of nothing to say.

Now restless, Edva paced the room back and forth in three strides at a time —and his stiffened wings cut through the air like a blade to the wind.

"Pick something," he abruptly ordered.

I swallowed nervously before turning back to the chest. My shaky fingers reached out for a rose gold and white backless dress with statement sleeves of laced frost. Gossamer cascaded from the bodice of the same icy material —preserved only by magic. I worried about its transparency but it seemed to have an under-thing of rigid silk intended only to cover my breasts, leaving it bare down the middle.

I heard Edva inhale sharply. I did not need to turn around just to confirm the expression on his face.

"Can I not take this one?" I asked. "I will pick another, if it is too precious or troublesome —"

"It was Vassenia's," he cut me off.

My eyes widened. "Then I cannot possibly —"

"Take it," he interrupted again. "It will be a good thing, I think. Maybe if it is gone...maybe then I can forget about how much she hated it."

I stared at the dress in my hands, and wondered how in the world it could be thought of as loathsome. Even so, it had belonged to a warrior —a heroine.

I cleared my throat as I turned back to him. "Then I will wear it with the highest honour."