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“Mention the gift,” I advised.

“I carry before me a humble gift to present to Your Highness. ”

“You should not have said humble ,” I said. That was not a word that would appeal to the fae.

Jack whispered that he thought no one was listening and asked if he could step out of the wretched faerie ring before he cast up the contents of his belly, for surely that would be an insult to the fae.

“Hush,” I said, listening intently. “Do you hear that?”

“I hear only the echo of my own voice,” said Sir Oswain, wiping his brow again and staggering half a step. “I cannot remain in this place any longer.”

“There!” I said, moving forward eagerly. “I heard the creak of a gate. And there it is!”

“I see naught,” said Jack.

But as we neared the tree, a pair of tall, ornate silver gates became visible. By the time we reached them, they were as solid and tangible as any gate in the mortal world. It was difficult to imagine how we had not seen them before, but only perceived a pair of saplings flanking the great tree.

A branch shimmered and shifted, and a bright spear was thrust before me, blocking our way.

“Halt!” ordered a tall, fierce guard, dressed in bark-brown with a silvery breastplate. “Who seeks entry to Her Highness’s court?”

Sir Oswain shouldered past me.

“The ambassador of King Athelfrid,” he announced in princely style. “These are my servants from the mortal realm.”

“Servants?” said the guard, barely glancing at Jack but fixing an intent look upon my hair. “What servant wears a crown from the royal garden?”

To my astonishment, the guard lowered his spear and bowed before me .

“Had you only knocked, my lady,” he said, “the gate would have opened to you directly. Allow me to escort you and your companions to Her Highness.”

Sir Oswain’s face was a picture, but I was too surprised to laugh. There was no time for words, for the guard walked quickly, and we hurried to follow.

Down an avenue of trees, each as tall as the guardian tree, crowned with silvery leaves and golden fruits, we walked. Each leaf whispered as the trees wondered among themselves who the strangers were that had come among them.

I wondered if Beran had ever walked this avenue.

Every hour since entering Faerie I had thought of him, looked for evidence of him, hoped against hope that our paths might cross, that somehow he would know I was here and would come and find me.

But perhaps he was bound. Perhaps he was not at liberty to seek me, and where would I begin to look for him in this vast, strange, and dangerous land?

I did not feel danger in this place. The light was strong and golden. Fountains glittered in arbours between the trees, the water casting dancing rainbows in the air.

All my senses felt overpowered, for the flowers were large, bright, and strongly scented, and the whispering of the trees, the golden light, and the drone of the fae bees were harmonious but so very loud and vivid to our mortal ears and eyes.

Poor Jack was dreadfully pale as he winced and shaded his bedazzled eyes.

Sir Oswain likewise looked unwell but held himself tall, his expression grim and resolute on his perfectly symmetrical features .

“May we drink?” I asked the guard, gesturing to a fountain.

He bowed, and before I reached the fountain, a faerie servant appeared with a cup to catch the silvery drops.

“Drink,” I urged Jack, holding out the cup to him, for he looked as though he suffered the worst of us. “You will feel better.”

“Is it safe?” whispered Jack.

I nodded. Water and food freely given under the laws of hospitality were safe in Faerie. This much I knew.

He took a sip gingerly, and immediately his face brightened. He drained the cup, blinked a few times, and gave a lopsided grin of relief.

“My head don’t feel like a kettle’s being bashed about in it anymore.”

I drank my cup. Sir Oswain hesitated, but on seeing that Jack and I suffered no ill effects, he too drank his down.

The water was cool and crisp as an apple, with a slight fizzle that made the tongue tingle as it travelled up to the head and down to the stomach.

When the fizzle abated, the world seemed softer and more natural to the senses, and all the sounds and scents were quieter and lighter.

We walked on. The avenue gave way to a maze of gardens.

Jack now had a spring in his step and cooed his pleasure at the beauty of the royal gardens.

They were indeed very beautiful, though a little too formal and perfect for my liking.

The desire to wander about and explore was very strong, but I had only to think of Rose, and the temptation to lose myself was overcome by the remembrance of her plight.

Up ahead stood a large, domed building, its white marble walls intricately carved in latticework, with marble roses clambering all over. A heady scent of roses drifted round. The domed pavilion stood in the heart of the royal rose garden.

Fae courtiers in fantastical clothes promenaded the pathways between the rose beds.

They turned to stare at us as we passed, barely glancing at Jack and Sir Oswain but bowing and curtseying to me.

I could not keep from staring back at them, for they were beautiful faeries, their gowns and cloaks like colourful, shimmering butterflies, their hair like fine silver thread swept up into fabulous styles adorned with flowers and jewels.

The gentlemen courtiers carried silver canes, and the ladies fluttered fans like dragonfly wings.

Only their hard, green eyes spoilt their beauty.

I had never felt so small, ragged, and wild-haired as I did in the presence of these glamorous beings. Even Sir Oswain looked short and insipid by contrast. Small wonder the fae considered mortals insignificant.

Jack gave a gasp of admiration, and I followed his gaze to the entrance of the marble pavilion where a tall lady, so exquisitely lovely that it almost hurt to look at her, stood watching our approach.

As we neared, I saw that, like the courtiers, her splendour was marred by the cold look in her green eyes. My companions seemed not to notice but gazed slavishly at her. The lady’s mouth lifted into the shape of a smile, but her eyes spoke disdain.

“Your Highness,” said Sir Oswain, with a sweeping bow. “Servant of King Athelfrid of the Westshires of Albion, at your service.”

Jack attempted a bow, but staggered under the weight of his pack, ruining his attempt at courtly manners. I dropped a curtsey .

“Welcome to Her Highness’s court,” said the beautiful lady.

Her voice was mellifluous, golden, and sweet. Jack glowed, and Sir Oswain gave a soft sigh at the sound. But there was another note between the dulcet tones—a squeak, like a flute being played one note too high.

I narrowed my eyes to peer at her more closely. Now I could see the telltale shimmer of a glamour over her face and above her head. She was neither as beautiful as she presented herself, nor as tall.

“Her Highness?” repeated Sir Oswain. “Are you not Her Highness, ma’am?”

She gave another false smile, and I heard a bitter note in her voice as she said, “I am her sister. Chief lady-in-waiting.”

She looked at me, and I wondered at the cat-like gleam in her expression.

“Come and see the queen in her glory.”

“Do not forget,” I whispered to Jack. “Never give your name to any fae.”

Jack nodded, his eyes as big and round as summer squash as he looked about at the glittering and fantastically carved walls of the queen’s summer house.

“I shall say my name is Jago,” he whispered. “What shall you say?”

“Mother taught me to give my name as Snow White.”

The queen’s sister parted a shimmering curtain.

Beyond the curtain drifted soft, lullaby music. It was very like the music of pipers in the mortal world, but sweeter and lower in tone, each note causing the air to ripple with colours, and a feeling of relaxation to settle over the hearer.

Magic swirled in the music round us, and I was mildly surprised at how well I bore it, for I could see that Jack and Sir Oswain were looking increasingly like a pair of drunken men, their eyes glassy, their movements a little off-kilter, and a foolish look on their faces.

I wondered how they would bear the overwhelming beauty of the queen.

A silver couch with cushions like clouds was now revealed before us. A crowned faerie reclined upon the cushions. And we all gasped.