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“Oh, but we have crossed paths.” He insisted. The stranger looked her over from tiara to toe, his stare slowly appraising her appreciatively, a sparkle in his eyes.

“I think I would have remembered you.” She covered her mouth at the admission.

She may as well have called him handsome to his face!

Impossibly, she blushed more and lowered her gaze from his stare.

She wanted to hide her eyes; she was overcome with embarrassment.

She’d been unable to converse with someone real in so long, she was out of practice!

The stranger chuckled and lifted his chiseled jaw. He had the most sensuous mouth she’d ever seen, with a fuller bottom lip than top. He was even more handsome with a grin gracing his face. She was in trouble! Could her cheeks get any redder? She fought a smile from blooming on her lips.

With his thumb and finger, he raised her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

The glow of his wings intensified. The luminescent radiance became increasingly brilliant, casting shadows on his features.

All the while, his irises glowed like gemstones, even in the dark.

The tips of his ears turned slightly pink. Was he blushing?

He cleared his throat, “But it seems ye have forgotten… ye were a lot taller then.”

Heather blinked, trying to comprehend what he could be referencing. Then it occurred to her…the moth she encountered in the castle garden! Could it be? She pulled free, twisted and inspected his wings.

Green moth wings.

“That was you out in the rain that day?” she whispered. He pivoted to face her.

“So, ye see, we have met,” offering his hand, “may I claim this dance?” The glow of his wings flashed blindingly bright. She squinted against their shine. Specs of what looked like iridescent flower pollen emitted from them. The pale green luminescence trailed behind his every move.

She couldn’t help but notice a fragrance.

Heather tried to hide it as she deeply inhaled- he smelled of bergamot.

She delicately sniffed again. Was that a hint of lemon?

She wanted to curl into his nape and surround herself in the woodsy scent that reminded her of the smell of earth after it rained.

Warmth spread through her limbs as if she had drunk three goblets of mead.

Was the room growing warm? She just barely refrained from fanning herself.

Hopefully, he failed to see any perspiration on her brow. She would keel over from embarrassment.

“You may,” she replied while placing her palm in his. His pupils grew dark, and she could have sworn they doubled in size.

He placed his large hand on her lower back where her bodice met her skirt, the warmth of it soaking through the material of her gown, leading her into the dance by gently pressing her torso to his. She had never danced with a partner this way before. There was a certain intimacy in it.

In most court dances, the lords usually did a lot of standing around whilst the ladies spun or hopped. Dancing couples did not press against each other and move together as one. Could he sense the racing of her heart?

The faerie hummed the tune she was dancing to earlier. How long had he been watching her? He confidently led them into a series of spins, directing their steps with authority.

He was intoxicating. His face, his wings, his hair and scent- it was almost too much to bear.

As she looked up into his eyes, she felt his hand tighten around her waist. His wings twitched.

His lustrous dust trailed behind in their wake, resembling a cloud of flour.

His wingspan shone sage green, then silver, mirroring the moon.

Her feet barely touched the dance floor.

She was effervescent, lighter than air. He lifted her up off the ground, with a single stroke of his wings- twirling multiple times, her long tresses and skirt trailing from behind.

He was undoubtedly strong, but his hold on her was gentle.

As if she were someone to be cherished and handled with care.

A far cry from her pawn status on His Majesty’s chessboard.

Delicately, he returned her to the surface of the dance floor, and she steadied herself upon her own two feet.

“Thank ye for the dance. I’m honored.” He bent over in a regal bow.

Smoothing out his black jerkin, he stood.

He reached out, clasping her hand. He sealed his lips to the sensitive underside of her wrist as he looked up at her with eyes full of desire.

His wings flaring once more. Her mouth fell open in a surprised intake of breath.

To be the sole object of someone’s attention, someone this handsome.

She knew her face was flushed, and her eyes were wide.

And there was nothing she could do to hide how beguiled she was by him.

Struggling to find her voice, she managed a hoarse, “The pleasure was all mine.” Followed by a curtsy.

Collecting herself, she took a step back. “I never realized that the moths in the garden were actually faeries.” She wondered if there were more magical creatures within reach, just beyond her perception.

“I’m a type of faerie, a pixie. We can thank glamours for that. I doubt we would live very long if we went without them.” His countenance sobered, the light of his wings dimmed, as if remembering an instance of a close call.

He stood at her side, proffering his support and when she tucked her arm around his, he placed his right hand upon hers, tightening her hold on the biceps of his arm.

He growled, startling her and when she looked up at him, his eyes were locked on the scrape Fee gave her.

The wound had closed, but a ruddy mark remained. Shadows darkened his gaze.

“I don’t think you’re safe here, Princess.”

“Oh… that was from the mouser… before I was shrunk.”

“Have you encountered the beastie since then? As pixie sized?” He asked, meeting her gaze while running his smooth thumb across the knuckles of her hand.

Heather hadn’t considered if Fee would be permitted into the library.

She fought the urge to break their connection and tug on her ribbon she wore as a sash.

Heather shook her head. “They’re diligent about keeping the chamber door shut.”

“All it takes is one slip up. I don’t think it’s worth the risk, do ye?”

“What are you suggesting?” her brows creased.

“Come back to the faerie tree with me.” His hold tightened on her arm possessively, and the green glow of his wings flared in brilliance. It had been Heather’s dream to see the faerie tree with her mother. She was delighted to learn that it was more than myth.

“I don’t even know your name,” she objected.

“Skye. Like the isle…but ye may call me whatever you like.” His bright white grin gleamed into the night. His smile was infectious. She couldn’t help but beam back up at him through her lashes.

“Are ye going to tell me yours?” He inquired as he lifted a dark brow.

“Heather.”

“Heather, a very concerned snail informed me where to find ye. I couldn’t help but notice the salt boundary, it appears someone doesn’t have your best interests at heart.

The humans don’t know that salt has no ill effect on us pixies, it only works on house spirits.

But their actions speak louder than words.

You’re a prisoner here- regardless of the wonderful amenities.

” He nodded toward the castle with suspicion.

She was aware of the court’s cruelties, but she couldn’t abandon Jessa or the only place she considered a home. The king had reassured her that the royal physician was actively pursuing an antidote. She would hopefully be back in the garden and kitchen soon.

Heather pulled her arm from Skye and wrung her hands.

“I wouldn’t mind visiting the tree. I have a wish to tie to it,” she ran her hand along her middle where the sash lay.

“But I can’t.” Skye was the only one Heather could easily converse with since she shrank.

His face and countenance were enough to tempt a saint.

“Why?” He asked in a pleasantly commanding voice.

With a quick movement, he reached behind her.

She felt him unbind her wishing ribbon sash.

It fell loose on her back while he grasped either end in his hands, using it to pull her slowly into his embrace.

Barely a hair’s breadth remained between them.

Her soft flesh met the finely sculpted surface of his upper body when she drew in a sharp breath.

“I have friends I refuse to abandon.” She struggled to voice between ragged breaths.

His arm snaked around her waist as he pulled the strand up to his face with his free hand- inhaling deep. “Is this your wish ribbon? It smells of jasmine… like ye.” His eyes closed momentarily as his chest rumbled, seemingly in pleasure.

She was in shock; he was practically purring.

His actions were wholly different from anyone at court.

Something entirely inhuman about him. He was completely other in his heated desire, a desire in which he took no measures to hide from her.

Breathily she replied, “Yes, yes, it is.” Swallowing slowly.

“Do ye know why the pixies collect ribbons on the faerie tree?” He inclined his head, eyes enraptured by her lips.

She instinctively wet them with her tongue.

Skye clasped her left hand in his and wound the pink ribbon around them both, joining their hands.

He drew closer, as his forehead bent towards her, his hair fell forward into his eyes.

At a loss for words, she shook her head.

“Mayhap, I’ll share that secret with ye sometime.” He whispered against the delicate shell of her ear. She physically shuddered. The intensity of his gaze made her weak in the knees. She swore the hair on her arms stood on end.

He turned to face her, clasping her hands in his broad ones.

He spoke his next words in a soft tone. “I fear for your safety. At the size of a pixie or average height, the rain doesn’t show any sign of slacking.

The food supply in this court is diminishing.

Things are going to deteriorate rapidly in these lands.

” His wings flapped in agitation at his back.

His assured sincerity made her reconsider her decision.

“I can’t simply leave.”

His sharp jaw clenched at the resolve in her voice.

“Promise me one thing, Heather.” He breathed. “Swear to me you’ll stay on guard. Don’t put it past humans to behave bastardly,” he pressed her.

“You do realize that I’m human, don’t you?” she interrupted.

He unsheathed the dagger from his belt. “Nevertheless, take this as a precaution. It might garner ye a few moments of distraction.” He pressed the hilt into her palm.

“Give me your word,” He urged, his fierce eyes holding her gaze.

His surety and concern filled her with doubt.

Something was unraveling within her. She mentally re-lived being squeezed too tightly by the princess, the vile words uttered by Lord Quincy and the constant threat of Uster’s continual presence.

The king’s selfish games. Should she venture out into the wild and find an antidote herself? Or hedge her odds here at the castle?

He called her princess, but she wasn’t a princess, not even a lady. What would he think of her true station at court? Was there a hierarchy among the pixie?

Heather swallowed thickly, “I cross my heart.” She vowed, “and promise too.”

She couldn’t walk away from the people here who meant the most to her.

Jessa was in a vulnerable position, without someone to watch her back and warn her of Uster.

Mae was an adoptive mother to Heather. They cared for her.

She refused to simply vanish, leaving them to agonize over her fate. The mere thought made her stomach ache.

Faerie truly existed. The tree was real, and to make it there one day, after she returned to her average size, it had to be shielded from the king’s road.

She clasped his hand and led him over to the scrolls saying, “The king plans to take his highway through the Wandering Wood. There’s a map you must see.” He needed to know what danger the pixie faced. She released his hand and tugged on the roll.

It unfurled, revealing the awful truth. Skye’s eyes traced the road’s path. His wings shot straight out, rigid behind him. He took on the stillness of a statue, with only his eyes in motion, roving over the map.

“I’m indebted to ye.” He said absentmindedly. A green orb of light formed in the palm of his hand. It floated over the scrolls, swirling in a vortex before sinking into the reams of paper, shrinking them. Skye retrieved the miniature charter from the floor.

His wings gleamed intensely, then fluttered, lifting him from the ground.

“I’m loath to depart, but I have urgent matters to attend to.

” He waved the shrunken map in his hand.

“I was already pressing my luck with venturing out this way. But ye shall see me again. Ye can count on it.” He eyed her with serious resolve.

“Goodbye for now.” She called after him, her voice full of hope.

She hesitantly lifted her arm to wave farewell.

He rose higher in the air, flying off toward the window.

He looked back at her for the longest time.

She watched until he faded from view. A mysterious ache formed in her chest. She would be terribly disheartened if he didn’t hold true to his word.

She glanced down at the dagger in her hand.

If ever a weapon could be called beautiful, this was the one.

It was a gleaning silver metal unknown to her.

The cross guard scrolled like a living vine, twinging within itself.

The pattern matched Skye’s vambraces. She’d have to configure some type of holster for it so she could stay true to her vow.

Turning the blade over, she noticed an odd sparkling pale green substance on her wrist. In the exact locale he had placed a kiss was a hint of the luminescent flower pollen.

Pixie dust. With a fingertip, she traced the mark upon her flesh, in the perfect outline of his lips.

The sensitive skin there, tingling in response.