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“I must hydrate or die-drate,” Rai said. “I am of water, and she is—” He glanced at Jen, gauging her distress. “Do not worry. She wrote of her wise preparations. ”

Jen heaved a deep shuddering breath, moving around to his side. “You have wings. I didn’t imagine the wings, did I?”

“No,” Rai said, as gently as he could. He was already growing stronger, even without his arsenal of humidifiers. “You did not imagine them. And I will fly to her, as swiftly as I may. I am swifter than the police, stronger than the police. I will save her.”

“And Poppy knows.”

“She must know I will not leave her in peril,” Rai said, though his heart was sick.

Poppy thought he was in Seattle. Perhaps she was in despair.

Ah, but she was wise and clever and strong.

Her arms might not be as strong as his, but her heart was far stronger.

She would do all she could to survive, as she had done all she could to protect her mother from deprivation and grief.

Jen let out a hysterical giggle. “I was asking if she knew about the wings. But she has to. The painting in her studio. I thought the painting was fantasy, but it was… She knew, didn’t she?”

“She knew all,” Rai whispered. “All of me. All that was good and all that was bad. And yet…”

And yet.

“She was so sad,” Jen said, her voice quiet, the tremble not gone but banked. “She was miserable when you left. Devastated. I saw it, but… She said you had to leave. Was it because of…?” She gestured toward his back.

Rai shoved away his guilt at the pain he had caused.

He was as flush with water as he could be; he turned off the tap and allowed his glamour to fade.

There was not enough room in the kitchen to let out his wings, but he let the crackle of them play over his shoulders.

Jen gasped again, but she did not look away.

“There is no time to explain it all. I am of water, and the desert is my death. But I have been training. I will save her.” He was still working out the rest of his plan.

It was fuzzy in places. Something was missing from it, some element. He had water, he knew where to go…

The doorbell rang, and Jen startled, eyes flying to the door. “Do you think it is the police? Perhaps they—”

Rai’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, grinning at the delivery notification. “It is not the police. It is my supplies. And it is time.” He stuffed his phone away again. “Jen, I must ask your favor one last time. May I borrow your living room?”

She nodded, though her face was confused. “Of course. ”

When he strode out of the kitchen, he could see bricks of water bottles already stacked high on the porch, another delivery driver pulling up. Would they be enough to carry him to Poppy and allow him to bring her back? He had to believe it. They had to be enough.

But he needed to make space for them.

He stood in the center of the living room, the open space surrounded by the couch of sunflowers, the television, Jen’s chair, and opened the portal to his hoard as wide as it would go.

Jen squeaked, then laughed shakily. “Holy fuck ,” she breathed.

Rai grinned at her. She was so like Poppy, after all. But he did not have time to compliment her. Instead, he reached deep into his pocket of faerie, dug his arms into the mounded coins, and dragged.

Gold showered onto the carpet, gold and all his other treasures, interesting rocks and fascinating shells and crystal goblets, scraps of wrapping paper, books and jewels and clothes and super balls that bounced merrily off about the room.

There was a sound of something shattering, and it reminded him that Poppy’s drawings were also in his hoard, framed in glass; he removed them with more care, though still swiftly, and set them on the couch.

The remaining water bottles he set aside as well, where they would not be lost in the piles.

Armful after armful he scooped out and onto the floor, not caring where his treasure landed, not caring what else broke.

It mounded about his ankles, everything he owned, all he had collected over decades of roaming the Americas.

Jen was pacing again, murmuring under her breath, though it seemed she was less agitated and more simply trying to see what was happening, leaning in to peer at one item or another, collecting the super balls and returning them to the pile.

At last the space where he had kept his hoard gaped empty before him.

He made his way out of the piled treasures, the things he did not need, would not ever need as much as he needed Poppy.

The portal followed him, though he bid it halt just inside the front door as he stepped out to get the first brick of water.

He heaved it through the portal, not caring if anyone saw, not the portal and not his purple skin.

Glamours took energy, and he needed all he could muster.

Nothing mattered now except rescuing Poppy.

Another delivery driver pulled up as he packed the water bottles, brick by brick, into faerie. Rai glared at the woman haughtily, daring her to object to his purpleness.

She just whistled, setting down more water. “Nice body paint.”

“My thanks.” Rai kept loading .

It did not take long before the space Rai had carved out in faerie was at its limits.

There were still some bricks of water bottles sitting on the porch, and he opened them and tucked as many of them as possible into the crevices, but he could feel the strain, feel that his magical space was stretched as far as it could go, and he finally swirled the portal closed.

He took two of the remaining bottles and inserted them into his beer helmet.

Jen fluttered up to him, eyes on the beer helmet. “I think I get it,” she murmured. “I think I…” Her jaw set, the expression so like Poppy that Rai felt a stab to his gut. “I want to help.”

Rai stared at her. “Poppy would want you safe.”

“Well, fuck that.” Jen raised her head higher. “I can’t stay safe when she needs me. And…and I can help. I know I can.” She indicated the beer helmet. “You’ll need to reload that, right? Do you need to stop flying to do it?”

“Yes,” Rai said, mind whirling. “It will take precious time.” He had bitterly imagined it as he loaded his supplies, the way he would be hopping across the desert like a flea.

Especially as the sun rose higher. It was yet early, but the journey would take time, and though Poppy was not as vulnerable to the desert’s menace as he, she was not immune.

Jen hefted a canvas bag. She’d filled it with water bottles of her own. “What if I—” She laughed, as if she could not believe her own words. “What if I can do it while you’re flying?”

Rai burst out into incredulous laughter, envisioning it.

“Ah, you are as glorious as she! Yes, you will be of great assistance. You may ride upon my back. It will bring Poppy great cheer to see her mother’s face when she is rescued.

” He was not as certain of his own welcome, of course, but it was of no matter.

He felt a rightness in his gut at the addition of Jen to the plan, the final missing piece.

Jen smiled nervously, her expression slipping into uncertainty, though her eyes still held the fire of determination. “I won’t be in the way? I’m not too heavy?”

“Do not fear,” Rai said. “You are very brave. The plan is perfect.” He felt a grin break out on his face, wide and wild and fierce as the sun.

The storm that had been building inside him—raging in his breast as he forced himself to wait, to prepare, to plan—that powerful, unquenchable storm was now bursting out of every pore.

He took a final deep breath, preparing to release the tempest, knowing this rescue was the greatest risk he had ever taken. Reveling in it. Rejoicing in it.

“And I,” he said at last, thunder in his voice, “I am very, very strong.”