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The princess, fidgeting with her gown, told her about the queen’s huntsmen. The orders to kill her and bring back her heart. Maiwenn saw the stark terror on the girl’s face as she described in a quavering voice the malevolent stepmother with black eyes and icy hands.

Maiwenn sipped her tea, staring at the fire.

She’d heard rumors in the village that the beautiful young queen was barren.

Of course. With the queen unable to produce an heir, the Emerald Princess seated at her meager table had the rightful claim to the Irish throne.

And therefore, posed the greatest threat to her stepmother’s feeble grasp of power.

The fairy witch rubbed her forehead, searching for a plausible way to keep the girl’s identity hidden.

She perked up suddenly as the idea came to her.

“The Goddess has sent you to me, my princess. I will shelter you here and keep you safe. And I will call you églantine , after these wild roses that the forest fairies have chosen for you.” She smiled at the rustic garland of elder wood twigs and interwoven pink blossoms crowning the girl’s blond head.

Maiwenn removed the wedding ring from her left hand and gave it to Issylte.

“You must wear my wedding ring. We’ll say that you are églantine, my sister’s granddaughter, a young widow who has come all the way from Bretagne to live with me as your only surviving relative.

” She took a sip of tisane and met Issylte’s wondrous eyes over the rim of the ceramic mug.

“It will be easier to hide your identity if we pass you off as a married woman. I’ll lend you a frock, an apron, and some ordinary shoes.

We’ll store your fine clothing—and golden crown with those lovely emeralds—in a hidden compartment behind the armoire in the bedroom. ”

Taking a couple bites of the stew, and another sip of her herbal tea, she smiled affectionately at the young princess. églantine.

Issylte nodded, fingering the silky velvet of her elegant robe. A hesitant smile spread across her torn face as she lifted her eyes, widened with hope.

“We’ll braid your hair high upon your head, as the married women in the village do.

You must always keep it covered with a scarf or bonnet to hide its distinctive blond color.

We’ll go into the village, where I’ll present you to Branoc—that’s my grandson—and his wife Deirdre.

I usually go once a week to barter my ointments, salves, and tinctures for the supplies I need.

We’ll fetch some fabric to make you two or three simple dresses, and have the cobbler make you some leather shoes.

Your lovely boots are much too fine for a peasant woman.

I’ll lend you a pair of mine—we’ll say that yours were ruined by the salt water on the boat coming over from Bretagne .

And you must call me Tatie —Auntie—as the French girls do in Bretagne . ”

The dark green eyes of the young princess shimmered, her lips quavering with emotion. “You are most kind, dear Maiwenn. I mean, Tatie. I cannot thank you enough. I only hope that someday, somehow, I’ll be able to repay you for the kindness you have shown me. I am so very, very grateful.”

Issylte covered her face in her hands, the tears leaking through her long fingers.

Patting the princess’ arm to comfort her, Maiwenn rose from the table. “Let me show you the room that used to be Branoc’s. It will be yours now. Come, églantine. Follow me.”

Maiwenn led her into her into the small room which held a bed, a night table, and a wooden armoire. A stone fireplace flanked one wall, and a table and chair were centered under a window where moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains into the peaceful room.

The fairy witch lit the candle on the night table beside the bed, and the soothing scent of rosemary and sage filtered into the air.

Maiwenn indicated the chamber pot in the corner of the room, the pitcher and basin on the table beneath the window.

“You may wash in this basin. Here’s some of the soap that I make with my herbs and oils.

I’ll teach you how to make it, as well as my ointments and salves.

There is so much knowledge I will share with you.

It will be wonderful, having you here.” She took hold of the girl’s trembling hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“It will almost be as if my Solenn were with me again.”

Maiwenn swallowed the painful lump in her throat, smoothing the sides of her brown homespun gown.

She opened the doors to the armoire, gesturing to the shelves inside.

“We won’t need a fire in the bedrooms until late fall, but I keep extra blankets here on the top shelf if you should feel chilled.

I’ll bring you one of my nightgowns, and when you have changed, we’ll store your things in the hidden compartment behind this armoire.

We must hide your fine gown, your crown with emeralds, your father’s ring upon your hand—and the cloak which bears his coat of arms. All would identify you instantly, should the queen’s guards ever come searching for you here. ”

Maiwenn left to fetch a white nightgown from her own bedroom and returned to lay it on the narrow bed. “Wash up now, then change into this. My room is right next door. I’ll be back in a few minutes so we can hide your things.”

A few moments later, she knocked at the door, bringing the carefully folded cloak and boots that the princess had been wearing when she’d arrived at the cottage.

Maiwenn wrapped the emerald-adorned coronet, royal ring, and emerald gown inside the deep green velvet cloak, placing the boots on the floor at the foot of the bed.

With Issylte’s help, she moved the armoire away from the wall to reveal a hidden compartment in the wooden paneling. She pushed against one of the panels, causing a small door to open. Inside a hidden vault for storage lay a small pouch with a drawstring closure.

“This is where I keep my silver. Although it’s not much, we might need it one day.”

Storing the cloak-wrapped items and the fine quality boots inside the hidden compartment, Maiwenn closed the wooden paneled door. Issylte helped her push the armoire back into place against the bedroom wall.

The fairy witch walked to the bed and turned down the blankets invitingly. Patting the bed with a gnarled hand, she spoke in a soothing, gentle voice.

“Sleep now, églantine. We’ll have boiled oats with goat’s milk, honey, and wild berries for breakfast. I’ll show you my workshop and introduce you to the animals.

We’ll load up baskets to carry my wares into the village so we can barter and get supplies.

We’ll pick up some fabric for your gowns and visit the cobbler for your shoes.

Sleep well, my dear,” she said, tucking the blankets around Issylte, who had crawled into comfortable, inviting bed.

“May the Goddess watch over you and bring you pleasant dreams.” She kissed the girl’s cheek goodnight, extinguished the candle, and slipped from the room.

Maiwenn returned to her small kitchen, gazing out the window to the shadowy forest, illuminated by the waning crescent moon.

She prepared another tisane , the tangy herbal fragrance soothing as she sat down in her wooden chair before the dying fire.

The sweet taste of chamomile lingering on her tongue, Maiwenn stared into the glowing embers. Reflective. Contemplative. Pensive.

Twenty years ago, she’d forsaken her magic. Cursed it. Damned it.

Because her magic had failed her. When she’d needed it most.

Maiwenn, one of the trio of fairies who’d studied with Merlin himself in the enchanted Forest of Brocéliande.

La Fée Verte de la Forêt— the Green Fairy of the Forest—with seemingly limitless knowledge of its sacred trees, plants, and herbs.

The skilled enchantress whose healing powers seemed boundless and infinite.

Until she’d failed to save her beloved daughter.

Maiwenn, who knew all the secrets of the Hazelwood Forest, had been unable to squelch the raging fever that had claimed both Solenn and Donnall.

Her powerful magic had failed.

So, she’d abandoned it. Cursed it. Forsaken it.

Tamped it down into the bubbling cauldron of rage, despair, and guilt that smoldered in her shattered soul.

Yet tonight. . . the Goddess had sent the Emerald Princess to her doorstep.

And Maiwenn had sensed the thrum of the forest pulsing in the girl’s veins.

A latent, potent force yet to be discovered.

A fecund, virid power yearning to be released.

The verdant, dormant magic of a forest fairy.

Reawakening her own.