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The fae underworld was different in every place he had been.

Sometimes it was truly underneath the human world, sometimes above; sometimes it even overlapped it, simply set apart with magic like a ghost, but the faerie realm was always separate and protected.

The entrances were usually placed near the strongholds of human allies and carefully warded by the most ancient and skilled of their kind, both to be invisible and to protect those entering and leaving from detection.

Being able to find them was imperative for survival for any fae in the modern world.

Humans were the most populous civilization on the earth now, and faerie had in turn developed a symbiosis with them, one that allowed them to safely coexist rather than undertaking dreary and fruitless confrontation that would only lead to the fae’s annihilation.

And being able to find one’s way to community was something Rai had learned at his mother’s knee.

He slowed as he approached the ward. He could feel it in the wall between two shops—on the left, a jeweler with a whimsical statue of a mermaid in the window, and on the right, a restaurant whose window boasted a painted buffalo riding a broom and wearing a pointed hat.

Whenever possible, underworld entrances were located between distinctive landmarks, to allow even fae that were weak and in distress to find refuge, and the human love of fantasy had made this easier.

Even if Rai had been too drained to sense the energies, he might have deduced that there was a gateway between a mermaid and a witch, perhaps even guessed that it was right where the irregular stone on the left gave way to the even brick on the right.

As it was, the portal shone to his fae sight like a beacon.

He stepped forward eagerly; the entrance folded open to admit him and closed again behind him.

The first thing he felt was a faceful of refreshing mist, and he closed his eyes, absorbing the elemental energy gratefully.

“Well,” came a rich, deep woman’s voice. “You’re new.”

He opened his eyes to a refreshing vista of color, at once more intense and more soothing than the harsh city streets had been.

There was a fae woman of indeterminate middle age regarding him with deep amusement from beside an elaborate marble fountain, the source of the life-giving moisture.

Her skin was brown, and her wings were spotted with orange and white.

She wore a layered tunic of beige silk over loose brown trousers; her silvering black hair was caught up in a cascade of braids that fell over her shoulders to her waist.

Rai strode over to the fountain, cupping his hands to scoop water over the top of his head. He shed his glamour as well, setting his wings free. The release of his power was almost as cleansing as the water; he gasped with it.

The fae woman clucked her tongue. “I see you like to do things the hard way.”

Rai glared at her. “Are you the matriarch?”

“Me? Gods, no. Though I suppose you could say I’m a matriarch. We aren’t particularly centralized here.” She sat on the edge of the fountain, studying his face. “This your first time in a city?”

“I have been to many cities. They have not been as this one.”

She pursed her lips, clearly restraining a laugh. “Few are.”

Rai ran his hands through his wet hair. “You are of earth?”

“Earth and fire,” she confirmed. “Perhaps a bit of metal. My lineage is long, and this place was not always as well populated as you see. Lonely nights make for strange bedfellows.”

“And you are here to greet newcomers, to welcome me to your social group.”

She laughed. “My, you are formal. Not to mention having a high opinion of your value as a guest. No, I am not here to greet you. I happened to be passing when you arrived, and your arrival caught my interest. I have always had a fondness for stray cats.”

I am not a stray cat, Rai wanted to say, but now that he was regaining strength, he also was regaining his senses. He had come here to seek help, and perhaps he had found it; better to be sweet honey than prickly thorns. “What is the hard way?” he asked instead .

“Oh.” She waved a negligent hand, indicating his general person. “Just that you don’t need to use magic for everything. Have you considered buying a shirt?”

“I am wearing a shirt.”

“A human shirt,” she clarified, then held out her hand. “I’m Ofelia, by the way.”

“Rai,” he replied, taking her hand and bending over it. “I am of water.”

“I can tell.” There was a hint of condescension in her voice, but Rai paid it no mind. He had yet to meet an elder fae who did not find the younger generation laughable.

Instead of replying immediately, he surveyed the area.

The fountain was at the center of a small courtyard, ringed in desert plants, from which paths radiated in five directions.

The one he had entered by was only a few paces in length, but the others wound off well into the distance, weaving among plants and the occasional adobe structure.

The fae paths were as busy with pedestrians as the human sidewalks had been, though few seemed to be in a hurry, moving languidly through the warm air.

While the heat and the sun were not unbearably oppressive, as if protected by a bubble, the space made no pretense at being anything other than a desert.

“How do you live here?” he said at last. “It is not…pleasant.”

“I live just fine,” Ofelia replied, standing.

“And I find it quite pleasant. But of course, I am of the desert, and the earth sustains me. It is harder here for those of wood and water, though not impossible. One must adjust to the scarcity, conserve one’s strength, if one wishes to stay. Use one’s element with wise frugality.”

Rai felt his face twisting in frustration. “So, I would need to be not myself.”

She gave him a look that said plainly that his distaste for austerity was not a surprise to her, but she replied evenly, “You would know better than I. Good fortune to you.” She bowed her head to him and turned to depart.

“Wait.” Rai reached out a desperate hand. “How would I purchase a shirt?”

She turned back to him with a sigh. “It’s amazing,” she said. “You have the wings of an adult and the face of an adult, and yet you have never made a purchase.” Her voice was wry, but she wore a half smile. “You truly are a foundling.”

“That is not what I mean,” Rai said. “They will not accept my gold, and I have no card. I am in need of dollars. And knowledge.” When Ofelia started to roll her eyes, he adopted his most melting look of supplication. “Please. I do not know how to…to human. And I must learn. I have no time.”

She gave him a long, steady look, then sighed again. “What a rogue you are! I hope you know that you are fooling no one. What is the hurry? Your life has barely begun. ”

Poppy’s face appeared in Rai’s imagination—laughing at the hail, focused as she did sums, troubled and kind and soft with desire. “I have reason.”

“Oh, gods, that look. The boy’s in love.” Ofelia let out a snort of laughter.

“I am not.”

“In lust, then. It’s the same at your age.”

His jaw twitched with vexation. “So you will not assist me.”

“I didn’t say that.” Her face softened. “I remember being young. Wanting to set the world on fire with all that was inside me. Though I suppose you’d prefer to drown it. Does your human know what you are?”

“No,” Rai said, recalling his first conversation with Poppy. “And I do not want to drown her. I want to…water her. Like the rains helping flowers to bloom, even here in the dry desert.”

Ofelia winced. “Very well, I will help you. If nothing else to convince you to stop sharing your poetic fancies. I remember now why I was so relieved to see my first gray hair.” She sat upon the edge of the fountain again, patting the wet marble beside her.

“It’s your good fortune that I’m too old to hurry.

Tell me what you need. Without poetry,” she added, holding up a warning hand.

Rai sat and began to speak.

Several hours later, he was strolling back along the human street, feeling quite pleased with himself indeed.

Ofelia had been generous with her assistance, accompanying him first to a trustworthy business that had given him human money in exchange for a handful of his fae gold, some in the form of the legendary “card” and some as a thick roll of crisp green paper bills.

Their next stop had been a shop just down the road from the mermaid and witch, one with a name that evoked friendship and cooperation, where he had exchanged a few of those bills for some clothing and footwear, which he’d donned in an alley behind the shop.

Ofelia had been right—it was much easier to maintain his appearance when all he needed to change was the undertones of his skin, though he’d have to remember to remove his shirt before letting his wings out.

While Ofelia had cautioned him that his guise as a man of business required boring attire, and he had dutifully purchased the plain white shirts and dark trousers she had recommended, he had not been able to resist a few brightly patterned shirts that appealed to his sense of whimsy.

He was wearing one now; it had repeating images of rolling blue waves topped with frothing gouts of white foam, reminding him of his last visit to the Peruvian coast. Ofelia had laughed at his insistence but had also then helped him to select “jeans” that she said flattered his physique.

They were tighter than he preferred, especially across his hips; he was not accustomed to having his body bound in such a way.

“Trust me,” Ofelia had said with a sly smile. “Your human girl will love them.”