When Maria next visited Rowen and Jason, they were in the middle of further experimentation with their flighters by seeing how long they could fly upside-down before the flighter manually righted itself. The top time was ten seconds.

"Hi," Rowen greeted her, upside-down and face tomato red.

Maria looked truly like a princess. She reclined gracefully in her incredibly fancy flighter and wore a small silver tiara on top of her braided hair, which was one thick braid wrapped around the back of her head. She was also wearing an emerald green dress with gold detail that hugged her slim, curvy form--a form Rowen had always been jealous of. She looked clean and refreshed, smelling faintly of strawberries. Her flighter looked like a reclining chair crossed with a throne. Maria's lips were painted a beautiful red, her eyelashes long and dark. As she wasn't wearing shoes but rather propping her feet up on a pillow, Rowen could see her nails were painted a sparkly, mossy green to go with her dress.

"Woah," said Jason, coming up to join the girls.

"Tell her she looks nice," Rowen prompted. Maria laughed, blushing.

Jason smiled, not taking his gaze off of Maria. "You look beautiful."

Maria blushed. "Thanks. To tell the truth, I feel like someone's pretty little doll."

Rowen gently bumped the nose of her flighter into Maria's. "You're our pretty little doll, though. Race?"

"I really shouldn't..." murmured Maria, and Rowen deflated. The old, non-færie Maria had a quietly competitive spirit that would easily flare when provoked. Now that she was openly a færie princess, would she want to hang out with humans like Rowen and Jason? Would she even be allowed?

"...but I guess one race wouldn't hurt!" Maria suddenly finished, taking off. 

"Jesus, Maria!" yelped Rowen, shoving her joysticks forward.

There was no catching up with the færie princess, though. Not only did her cart look uber-fancy, it could also operate at much higher speeds, probably so she could keep up with her winged counterparts.

Maria laughed, reaching the end of the hall and the huge floor-to-ceiling window long before Rowen and Jason.

"You little--" Rowen began, but froze as she saw something hurtling at the giant window.

"What?" Maria asked, turning.

Rowen opened her mouth to speak as a huge flaming hunk of rock crashed into the window and exploded.

The crash made the air hum. Maria screamed. 

"Come on!" Jason yelled, and we took off from the not even splintered window.

"What's happening?" Rowen demanded as they flew down the hall, Maria in the lead.

"Attack!" Maria responded. "On the castle!"

Rowen's eyes widened and the friends sped through the open doors of the throne room as they began to close. As they came to a stop, the huge double doors shut with a crash.

"What is the meaning of this?" an important-looking figure demanded, rising from the ornate throne. He had huge, rounded white-yellow wings that fluttered lazily behind him. His features were delicate and refined, even slightly feminine. He was wearing a suit with an emerald green cape attached. Several guards surrounding him raised their staffs warily.

"Attack, Father! In Hallway A-1! A--a--"

"Boulder," supplied Rowen.

"A boulder crashed into the window!"

"How did they even know where the window was? It's cloaked from the outside!" the king snapped, using hand gestures to order several of the guards outside the throne room, where faint screams and commotion could be heard. He beckoned two more guards to Rowen and Jason's sides.

"Take the humans to the Chamber," the king ordered as Maria flew forward.

"You will be taken to a safe, comfortable room," one guard said in a monotone.

"...where you can rest as we wait for news," the other guard continued.

"From there, it will be possible to escape into secret chambers..."

"...in which there are means of evacuation if need be."

"What about Maria?" Rowen and Jason asked in unison.

"The princess..."

"...will be well protected."

"Follow us..."

"...please."

Rowen and Jason hesitantly followed the guards in their flighters. They only had to fly for a short while down the hall before the guards faced them. They were seemingly in front of a blank wall.

"Turn your flighters around..."

"...and close your eyes."

Rowen and Jason did so. One guard followed them and stood in front of them, shouting, "No!" as Rowe dared to peek.

A few short seconds later, the teens were instructed to open their eyes, turn around, and follow the first guard through a newly appeared door.

Once inside the door, all light seemed to vanish. Twisting around, Rowen could see the square of light that was the doorway, but none of the light leaked into the chamber they were hovering in.

"Continue onward..."

"Until you see light."

"As soon as you see light..."

"...turn left."

"Count out ten even, slow seconds."

"Clap twice."

"You will be asked to state your name and business."

"After which, a lit doorway will open..."

"...and you will proceed into a chamber suitable..."

"...both for the winged..."

"...and non winged."

Jason nodded his understanding and the guards left, closing the door behind them. Rowen was too busy trying to quell her panic to understand much of anything.

"Go straight, turn left at light, count to ten, clap twice, state name and business," Jason repeated to himself quietly.

Rowen took deep, even breaths. Darkness was her weakness.

"You okay?" Jason's voice rang through the darkness.

"No," whispered Rowen. "Let's just get this over with."

The duo pushed their joysticks forward and began quickly traveling down the dark expanse.

The darkness was suffocating. Whether Rowen had her eyes open or closed, it made no difference. There was the constant fear that something was in the chamber with them or that her flighter would fly into an obscured object. Her breathing came faster and her hands started sweating.

"Rowen! I see a light!"

Rowen's eyes flew open. She didn't even remember when she had closed them. Sure enough, a tiny pinprick of light shone far in the distance.

"Do we turn left now, or are we supposed to get closer? Maybe we're supposed to get closer..." Rowen mused, wanting desperately to reach the light.

"No, the freaky guards said to turn left as soon as we saw the light," Jason reminded her.

"Fine," said Rowen, reluctant to continue onward in the dark.

They carefully turned their carts, Rowen now in the lead, and drove slowly on.

"One...two..." Jason began. Rowen had forgotten all about the counting. She joined in on five.

"Six...seven..."

Were they counting too fast? Too slowly? Rowen shook her head and scolded herself. Stop being such a wimp.

"Ten." Jason clapped loudly twice. Rowen squinted her eyes against the sudden glare.

They were in a large, completely white room. When Rowen blinked, she still saw spots of dark against the harsh light. She turned to see the light practically sucked back into the dark chamber they had emerged from.

Writing appeared, large and black-lettered, on the wall in front of them.

Names.

"Jason."

"Rowen."

Business.

"The castle is under siege. We...seek refuge here."

Rowen grinned at Jason's formality and he shrugged, looking embarrassed.

Proceed. The wall split into an opening wide enough for two flighters to comfortably fly through side by side. Seeing as how this opening was twenty feet tall, this was a rather large opening.

Jason and Rowen flew forward cautiously. Behind them, the light turned off. Rowen and Jason were too stunned to really notice.

They were in a huge courtyard. The floor was a garden. Delicious-looking fruits and vegetables that Rowen didn't recognize grew in thick, ripe bunches. A magnificent oak stretched up from the very center of the room, impossibly tall, fifty feet easily. It was planted on a small mound of land in the center of a circular river. The river had many branches leading through the maze of plants and food.

The walls were bare white, with beds in rows and columns fastened securely. What looked like thick sheets of glass encased these beds, making them look like futuristic sleeping pods. There was enough space in between the top and bottom of each pod for a flighter and rider to be comfortably parked.

"This is amazing," breathed Rowen.

"You can say that again," Jason murmured, craning his head back to look up at the ceiling 200 feet above them.

The friends parked their gliders under two of the closest pods and moved on to the gardens. Rowen picked a blueberry and popped it into her mouth. It exploded in a burst of delicious juice. She closed her eyes and moaned in bliss. 

The pair ate their fill on fruit, avoiding the vegetables after Rowen tried one that tasted distinctly of sour milk and broccoli. When a bush was almost emptied of fruit, it would grow more, looking like a time lapse video in real life.

As Rowen was bending over the river to get a drink, she saw a face--not her own--staring curiously back at her. She shrieked and jumped back. When she looked again, the face was laughing. It dissipated as a drop from Rowen's lips hit the image, shattering it into small ripples.

"A nymph?" Jason guessed. "They guard these kinds of places. It would explain why everything here tastes so good and grows so fast. Not to mention I doubt a gardener comes here very often to take care of the plants."

Before Rowen could reply, the wall behind them opened and they turned, lips stained with berry juice and hands full of fruit.

Many færies poured in, young, old, and all shades in between. They all had the same shell-shocked, terrified look on their faces.

"I think we got out before things got bad," Jason muttered.

Rowen found a few flighters in the pack, odd-looking humanoids flying them.

A multitude of guards accompanied the crowd, herding them inside like a flock of sheep.

A voice boomed to life over an until-now obscured intercom system. "Everyone, pick a bed and sit in your pod until further instruction," a calm female voice commanded. Rowen and Jason raced to their pods and climbed in, finding they were able to swing the glass open like a door.

Rowen lay on her back and stared through the glass at the pod above her. She noticed what looked like an intercom speaker in the wall in the upper right hand corner of her pod.

"Welcome to the SafeHaven program," the same reserved voice said. Rowen decided that it was most definitely a recording. "This is where we will be staying until further instruction from the outside military forces."

Worry for Maria flooded Rowen's head. Where was she?

"Please, settle in and try to relax. Clothing with the palace emblem will be passed out. You are required to wear it for identification purposes. Please do not leave your pod."

Rowen tried to push open the glass and discovered it was locked. You're not giving us much of a choice, are you? 

She was beginning to feel a familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. It came whenever her school had lockdown drills--not quite sickness, not quite cramps, but a strange, mostly unpleasant squeezing sensation that was somewhere in between and combined the symptoms of both. Her heart was beating fast, fluttering against her chest, and adrenaline coursed through her. Her fingers tapped nervously against her thigh and she tried to focus on her breathing to calm down. When it had just been Jason and her in the magical garden, the besieged palace seemed lifetimes away. Now, with calm orders and soldiers, Rowen realized that this was very, incredibly serious.

Someone knocked on her pod and Rowen jumped, feeling her heart skip a beat. It was a guard with the promised clothing.

Rowen sat up carefully, the pod only being about three feet high and two feet wide, and opened the glass. The guard handed her a shapeless dress and explained, "Clap twice to cloak your pod. You will also be asked to do this in the case of an evacuation." The words seemed lifeless and rehearsed.

Rowen swung the door closed and clapped twice. Several minutes, curses, and bruises later, her old jeans and T-shirt were in a pile at her feet. She stroked the soft jean material and sighed. Granted, her dress was comfy, but it felt odd. Færie clothes on a human girl.

The dress was shapeless and stretched to just below her knees. From the looks of it, it was supposed to go down farther. Rowen guessed the castle had a "one size fits all" policy. The dress was grey and had the same spark insignia she saw on the guard's biceps over her left breast. The material was soft and flowing, like nothing Rowen had ever worn before. She felt light and breezy, as if she could rule the world.

Rowen laughed at herself. Rule the world in a shapeless grey dress?