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Mother waved her pipe dismissively, and continued her story. “I pursued her, Amara, that is. I got a little delayed by some of her goons. First a cave troll, and then a pair of were-bears.”

“Is that how you were injured?”

“You fought were-bears?” said Sir Oswain, who had been listening. “Alone? ”

“Not quite alone,” said Mother. “There are many I can call upon to aid me—all who are loyal to the queen. I knew Amara had left Rose on her island while she hightailed it to the dwarf lord to finalise her negotiations. I interrupted her journey. We had a little altercation, which is how I got my injury. She got as good as she gave. I had to seek healing from the queen’s rooms while Amara slunk home to lick her wounds. ”

“But when she got home,” I said, “she found it ablaze. No wonder she did not follow us. She had not the strength.” I recalled that piercing shriek of fury that had rent the night as we fled the island. “I wonder what she did next.”

“She would have gone to warn the dwarf lord in the hope of appeasing his wrath. But I do not expect her to pose any threat now.”

“What did you do to her?” I asked, trying to imagine what an altercation between a sorceress and my stout Mother would look like.

“I wrested the stolen source of her power from her.”

“What is the source?”

“Her wand,” said Mother. “Which I returned to the queen. I would have done it decades ago, but I had to wait for my instructions.”

“Instructions from whom?”

“The Council.”

“What Council? Who are you, Mother?”

This last question was something of a plea.

I had always sensed mystery around Mother, but it was painful to feel my family disintegrating like pipe ash through my fingers.

“The Council of Godmothers,” said Mother.

“I was appointed guardian of the border.

Seventeen years ago I was also tasked with protecting the young princess.

I was to keep her safe and hidden until the stolen crown and crown prince were returned to the kingdom.

Until then, her life was in danger, for the dwarf lord sought her that he might wed her and take the throne.

“It was thought that the last place the dwarf lord would think to search for the princess was at the very border of Faerie, right under his nose. And if Amara had not crossed paths with a roamer who had a tale to tell of a young maiden in a cottage with royal roses round it, we should not have been discovered.”

“And what of me?” I asked slowly.

Part of me was desperate to know the truth. Part of me was afraid.

“Who am I?”

“You came to me as a baby. A foundling. A sorry little bundle of rags, left under the guardian tree.” Mother gave a rueful smile.

“I daresay I should have taken you into the village and found a family to take you in, but there was something about the way you fought for life. You had uncommon spirit, Lily. Little Rose was missing her nurse and brother, and when you came to us, she was enamoured with you. So we kept you.”

“Like a pet.”

“We loved you. You were such a happy little soul. Troublesome, though. Into everything.”

I was silent as I considered this revelation.

“It was exceedingly kind of you,” said Sir Oswain, “to take her in. And how like the sweet lady Rose—the princess, I should say—to love a child in need so instantly, though she was only a babe herself.” He sighed softly.

We all sat in silence for some time. Mother finished her pipe. Jack ambled back up the hill and flopped onto the grass beside us.

The queen and her faerie troops rode away, the queen in a chariot drawn by four pearly-white winged horses with tails like peahens, her captains mounted on tall, swift faerie steeds.

“And shall they all return?” mused Sir Oswain, speaking to no one in particular, his hand absently drifting to the hilt of his sword.

“They look mortal fierce,” said Jack. “Surely they’ll return. Do you think so, good mother?”

“The dwarves are also fierce,” she replied, “and desperate. It will not be an easy victory.”

“Shall we stay here ’til they return?” asked Jack.

“No. The queen has given orders. You are to ride home. Three faerie mounts await you in the stables to take you as far as the border. You can find your way from there.”

“Only three?” said Sir Oswain.

“One each.”

“I can’t leave Jory!” said Jack.

“I will bring him back to the border when he is well.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” I argued.

“You will do as you are told. The queen’s wishes are not to be disobeyed. You have been shown a remarkable degree of hospitality. Any trespass upon her wishes will have severe consequences.”

We all fell silent. The memory of the queen dressed for battle was an impressive one.

I certainly did not wish to trespass against her orders.

And yet there was something I still wished very much to do.

Something I had to do, for this might be my only chance, for I would probably never enter Faerie again .

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“At first light. The border will not stay open for long.”

I had another dream that night—the most vivid I had ever had.

I dreamt of Beran, roaring in anger and pain, and then I dreamt of the faceless man dying in my arms. The dreams repeated over and over, then intertwined, so I could not tell which was Beran and which was the man.

I woke with a pounding heart and beads of sweat on my forehead.

It had seemed so horribly real. But it strengthened my resolve of what I intended to do.

It was still dark when I arose from my feather-soft bed in the House of Healing.

I tapped my lamp three times, and it glowed softly.

I had filled my pockets at supper the previous evening, and now I put all the faerie bread into my bag, along with the bottle refilled from the fountain.

I crept out, tapping the lamp to extinguish it as I left my room.

It was never entirely dark in Faerie. The stars were so much brighter than at home. The moon had set, and the sun not quite risen, but there was enough silvery starlight for me to pick my way to the stables.

Only a few faerie steeds remained. Their white bodies gleaming in the darkness.

All the others had gone to war. I approached the stall of the smallest of the three, recognising it as the one I had ridden to and from the meadows.

I thought I was alone, but the stable master appeared, in that silent way the fae had of moving.

He looked like a tall shadow in the pre-dawn dark.

“I can mount myself,” I told him. As my steed did not show any sign of hostility toward me, he stood aside. But I had a question for him .

“Can the queen’s horses find their way anywhere?” I asked.

“Anywhere in Faerie,” was the imperious reply.

“Can they… find any one in Faerie?” I held my breath. The answer was painfully important to me.

“The queen’s steeds go wherever they are bid.”

This did not entirely answer my question. But I hardly expected a straightforward reply from a faerie.

I stood beside the faerie horse. “Take me to the bear known as Beran,” I whispered into my mount’s ear, hoping that it could indeed take me where I bid it.

She twitched her ear, gave a huff, and pawed the ground, as if signalling her eagerness to ride. Perhaps she was unhappy at being left behind.

There was a rustling in the hay mound beside the stable, and the outline of a small head on a long neck popped out of the straw.

“So that is where you’ve been sleeping,” I told the margool. “Wait here for me to return. I don’t know what I am journeying into.”

The margool slid out, stretched itself up on its hind legs, and flapped its wings. It hopped to the ground and ran to the stable door. I was surprised that it was actually going to obey me and not attempt to ride with me.

“Away with you!” hissed a voice from behind the door, as the margool flapped a greeting.

“Sir Oswain?” I called in a low voice.

His tall, cloaked form appeared. “I did not expect to see anyone else this early,” he said. I could hear the note of chagrin in his voice.

“You were going to ride off alone?”

He shifted awkwardly. “I knew you would be safe riding the queen’s steed, and you would have Jack with you as escort.”

“You are not going to the border?”

“No. I have a quest to fulfil. I must seek the king’s crown. That is what I came into Faerie for.”

“You would risk all for a crown that does not belong to you, when you could seek out Rose?”

“The princess is too exalted for a mere earl’s son,” was the subdued reply.

“Have you supplies?”

“I have food and drink. I have my sword. I have new boots and a travelling cloak. I can ask for no more.”

I considered him some moments, thinking of how Rose would grieve for this golden-haired man if he did not return. I tugged loose my last white rose from my braid. “Here. This will help you with the travel sickness. And it will give you some protection on your venture.” The rose glowed softly.

“I cannot take your protection,” said Sir Oswain.

But I tucked the stem into the neckline of his coat and turned away to my faerie horse before he could return it. I was about to mount when I heard another voice.

“Weren’t going without me, were you?” said Jack, hurrying in, breathless, his cloak askew. “Woke up and knocked for you, sire, and you were gone! Miss Lily—you going too?” He sounded hurt.

“Sir Oswain is not going home,” I said. “He is going to seek the crown.”

“I knew it! But you can’t go alone, sir!”

“You must escort Miss Lily,” said Sir Oswain.

“Course I’ll escort Miss Lily, but you can’t go alone, sir! I’ll ride straight back and join you. Will you not wait a day? ”

“You are a youth. Not a trained soldier. You can do me no aid. Miss Lily needs you.”

“He is no more help to me than he is to you,” I argued, keen to lose Jack’s chaperonage, for I too had my own plans.

“You’re both mortal unfair,” said Jack.

I deemed it wise to say nothing until Sir Oswain was gone. I did not want my scheme interrupted.

“You had best go, if we cannot persuade you otherwise,” I said to Sir Oswain. “Jack, open the stall for him,” I said, for the stable master had left us alone.

Jack sullenly obeyed. Before Sir Oswain mounted, he said to Jack, “Though you are but a youth, you are a good and brave young fellow. If I make it back to the Westshires, come and find me. I will do aught I can to aid you, and to give you a rightful share of the reward. You may train among my men if you wish. You will doubtless earn a knighthood.”

“I thank you, sir,” said Jack, still sounding low. “But I came into Faerie for the same reason you did. To find the lost crown and treasure. It’s mortal hard to give it up. Especially after coming so far.”

Sir Oswain squeezed Jack’s shoulder and mounted his faerie steed, bending to speak into the creature’s ear. “Take me to the dwarf lord’s stronghold at the Black Rock.”

We watched from the stable doorway as the horse gathered speed and quickly passed out of sight. There was now a gleam of gold lighting the horizon.

“If you must know,” I said as we turned back to the stalls, “I am not going home either. I too have something to find. Or someone. ”

“Who?” said Jack. He put a hand out, taking hold of my sleeve to stay me. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I have to find Beran.”

“That black bear?”

I mounted my horse. “Out of my way, Jack. Don’t try and stop me. Take the margool back to Rose. Tell her not to worry.”

But as my horse stepped forward, I felt a thudding weight on my shoulder strap. I was not going to be able to leave the margool behind. My horse gathered speed, and we lurched into a world-shifting blur.