Page 48

The blurred embodiments of winged horses float before us like phantoms—faintly distinct, reduced to shapes as diaphanous as fog. This is but a hint of what the Pegasi once looked like before they fell.

Cove gasps in wonder. Juniper must have temporarily forgotten her agenda, because she gawks with the fascination of a scholar.

Her mouth opens, but I place a finger atop her lips. “Let them speak first.”

The Pegasi hover in swirls of prismatic color, their hazy wings outstretched and their filmy manes flying like pennants. “Juniper of Reverie Hollow,” they greet as one, their voices overlapping. “And Cerulean of the sky. We see you’ve brought a party.”

My mouth curls into a smirk. “I expect introductions aren’t necessary.”

“We know each of you. Lark and Cove, also of the mortal world, Puck of the woodland, and Elixir of the river. To what do we owe this pleasure? A deal, perhaps?”

“Is there ever another reason?”

“One at a time, then. Or choose your ambassador.”

Juniper steps forward while holding up the Book of Fables. “We have a question for you—about a Fable in this book.”

A lengthy pause follows. “We haven’t beheld that anthology in ages. How good of you to share it.”

From behind, I imagine Puck restraining a derisive sneer and Elixir slitting his eyes. Fake politeness is the first stage of making a bargain. We respect the Horizon, but that doesn’t mean the Pegasi are above calculations and negotiations.

They were once flesh and blood, after all. Half-fauna, half-Fae. The latter part still knows how to get what it wants.

To the contrary, their response causes Juniper’s features to lift. “Our question has to do with a page that says—”

“Juniper,” I interject in a low tone. “Be very careful.”

“So true,” the Horizon responds. “You must pace yourself, dear mortal.”

“Stop talking down to her,” Puck warns, his threshold for reverence thinning, while Juniper’s sisters audibly bristle, and Elixir continues to glower.

I give each of them a cautionary look and mutter to Juniper, “The offering must be explicitly revealed before you ask the question.”

With no guarantees, it’s a risk. That is the nature of trading in Faerie, a fact that has my brothers and me on edge.

Juniper gazes at the book with resolute sadness, then rifles through her skirt pocket for the spectacles. After dropping them on her nose and flipping through the pages, she folds the crease and gently tears the Fable from its spine.

The sound rips through the summit. She cringes, then lifts her arm to show the parchment. “This Fable says there’s a second way to restore the fauna.”

“Yes,” the Horizon echoes. “Cerulean and Lark have recently beseeched us about this.”

“But you didn’t give them an answer.”

“The offering was inappropriate. That forbids us from answering or providing any knowledge of the subject.”

“Fine, but this offering is entirely adequate.” Juniper recaps the details about the hidden message. “Are you familiar with this Fable? Did you know about its secret passage? Do you know the second way?”

“Those are three questions and only one offering.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, whereas Lark mutters, “For fuck’s sake.”

Juniper frowns, then amends, “Will you tell us the second way?”

“Do you mean,willwe?” the Horizon wonders. “Or do you mean,canwe?”

Shit. My eyes clench shut.

“Will you?” Juniper insists, her green eyes intent behind the lenses.