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She looked at me and smiled shakily. "I’ve missed you."

"How is this possible?" I whispered.

Briar stepped out of the shadowed corner of the room, so I could see her better. She looked almost the same as I remembered her–golden hair, fair skin, tall, and graceful. But she was older. Her face was sharper, less full. Her once wavy hair now fell straight. But most concerning of all, her ears came to sharp points.

My whole body trembled, and tears leaked out of the corner of my eyes. "This is a cruel trick, even for the fae."

In the soft voice she had used to soothe me after Momma died, she said, "It’s not a trick, Georgia. It’s me."

I shook my head. "I don’t believe you."

"What can I say to make you believe me?" she begged. "How about something only we know? Like after Momma died, you slept in my bed every night."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "The nursemaids knew that."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "True enough. One summer, we found a swamp rabbit and raised it up in a box. We released it down by the pond with a saucer of water and a plate of carrots. You called him Nutmeg."

I loved that bunny. I wondered if anyone else had ever known about him. We had kept him hidden all summer. Even if he had been discovered, how would anyone else know his name?

She kept going. "You once called Magnolia "Maggie Moo" in an argument over her table manners. She burst into tears. When Papa is in an especially good mood, he whistles. Momma’s favorite plant was jasmine, and it grows just outside Papa’s window even now. It nearly died one summer, and he hired ten gardeners to bring it back to life. They took cuttings, and it now grows in seven places."

Some of these stories individuals might know, but no one could know all of them. I started to limp toward her.

"Is there something wrong with your leg?" she asked.

"I twisted my ankle," I replied.

She rushed over and helped me into a sitting position. Then she joined me on the feather bed with her legs criss-crossed. Wordlessly, she began to examine my swollen ankle. "It’s probably just a sprain. Should I wrap it?"

"I don’t care about my ankle." I was laughing and crying at the same time. I pulled her into my arms. "It’s you. It’s really you."

"It’s me," she said, stroking my hair the way she always had when I was upset.

I didn’t move for a long time, just allowing myself to cry, soaking the shoulder of her dress while she comforted me. "How? How can you be alive? He said you were dead. The flowers said you were dead."

She pulled back. "The flowers? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You can tell me everything when we have more time."

I froze. "More time?"

"I can’t stay long. Papa will find me."

"Of course, he will. He’ll want to see you and Magnolia will too." My mind started turning. "In fact, you might just be able to stop a war."

She cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"Papa wants to start a war with the island. He’s amassed men and weapons, but if we’re both home and safe, maybe he could be persuaded to stop."

"Georgia." Her voice was sharp. "Look at me. Really look at me."

"Y-you are changed. I can see that clearly, but it’s also you. I know it’s you." I took her hand in mine. "What’s going on? How did you escape?"

"I was never a stolen bride. I am the one who left the shell."

My mouth dropped open. Forrest had been telling me the truth. "But why? Why would you do that to us?"

Her words spilled out of her mouth. "Because I’m a changeling."

"You’re a- you’re a changeling." I stumbled over the words. It wasn’t possible. Changelings were nasty and vicious. Nothing like Briar.