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Skye approached, gathering her hands in his.

“Don’t worry yourself. He’s here for me.

I’ll descend and meet with him. Stay and relax.

He has impeccable timing.” He huffed a quiet laugh.

“I’ll return straight away.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it before rushing from the room, shutting the door snug behind him.

Sighing deeply, Heather walked over to the sitting area and slumped down into one of the cushy chairs.

Relief filled her in the realization she didn’t have to meet his father at this moment.

Her face remained hot from the pleasure Skye had rendered from her body.

However, she wasn’t sat long before the chamber door burst open, and a young faeling ran inside.

He couldn’t have been any older than ten years.

“Skye, Skye! Are ye in here?” The little fae boy looked like a miniature Skye, with blond-white hair and dark eyebrows. Heather turned in her chair, revealing her presence.

“He went downstairs to greet his father. Are you, his brother?”

As he walked over to her, his eyes grew wide as he noticed she was wingless.

“A human!” He exclaimed, pausing mid stride. Heather stood from the chair. The boy circled her, gathering a good long look. “Can I see your ears?” He asked with the innocence only a child could possess.

Heather smiled, “You may… if you tell me your name.”

“I’m Saylor, Skye’s my brother.” The boy boasted with a smile. Heather turned her head towards him and drew her hair behind her very human ear. He gasped, “Ye are a human!”

“I truly am.” She whispered it to him as if it were a secret admission.

“Chhhhirrrrpp! Chirp, chirp!” came from the boy’s tunic pocket.

“What, or should I say who, do you have there?” she gestured to his noisy jacket.

“My bitty friend.” He lifted a creature from within.

It was much like the ones now residing in the kitchen.

This one was much younger, perhaps younger than Saylor himself.

She sat in the center of the boy’s palm.

With large eyes, dark hair and an innocent round face, Heather couldn’t help but coo at the youngling whose clothes were assembled from a variety of colorful silk ribbons.

Heather clasped her hands in front of her, leaned down toward the adorable bitty, “What’s her name?”

“Fiora, it means ‘little flower.’” Fiora chirped once more.

Saylor raised his palm to his cheek, cuddling her.

Fiora’s rounded cheeks turned scarlet and chirped to the boy.

The sight of the pair of friends was incredibly heartwarming.

Heather fought the urge to gather the two of them in a tight embrace.

“I adore her dress. I have a ribbon of my own,” Heather said, gesturing to the ribbon arranged in her hair, though she suspected it was tangled now.

“Chirp,” came a quiet response from Fiora.

“She said thank ye,” Skye interpreted. His nose scrunched. “It smells funny in here.” Heather’s eyes widened. She looked about the room as if it would help her make a satisfactory reply.

At a loss, she simply asked, “Does it?” Heather paused, as if detecting something. “I think I hear your father calling you.” Saylor squinted up at her. Drat! How could she forget about the excellent hearing of the fae so soon after what happened?

“I don’t hear anything,” he challenged.

Heather stilled, pausing as if she was actively listening. “I swore I could have heard someone calling. Never thee mind.” She brushed off the attempt to distract him. “The view from this room’s balcony is stunning. Would you like to see it?” She gestured over to the open terrace doors.

Saylor ran over to the balustrade edge, filling Heather with fear for his safety, after all, he was too young for his wings to emerge.

She joined him at the barrier, sticking close just in case.

He stood up on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse over the partition, his mane ruffling in the breeze.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she would stand in this very spot in years to come.

What would the future hold? Would she one day share this view with their own moon-haired child?

Would they have Skye’s dimples or her hair?

The ribbons in the tree shifted in a gentle wind.

More wishes to consider. But if the king’s road made it into the Wandering Wood, what kind of fate would that bring?

Skye walked up behind them, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“My apologies, Moonbeam. I have to depart. Father has requested that I escort Saylor home.” Her eyes lifted to his, meeting the orbs of the male who was capturing her heart.

Skye pulled her hand up to his face, setting her palm against his jaw, and closed his eyes as if he were savoring her touch.

His wings flared with light briefly and then went dark.

Opening his eyes, “I left something beside the fire for ye.” He winked, releasing her hand.

He turned to Saylor, ruffling his hair, “Let’s get ye home, lad. ”

Heather watched the pair fly beyond her view, returning Saylor’s wave. She retreated into her chamber and secured the balcony doors shut.

On the side table before the hearth lay an ornate chest, a little longer than her hand.

A pleased smile bloomed across her face as she lifted it from the tabletop and claimed a seat on the settee.

He did not need to give her gifts, his presence in her life was more than enough.

But she couldn’t remember a time when someone had put in the effort for something just for her.

Mayhap, her cherished ribbon from her mother.

She briefly caressed the ribbon in her hair and then opened the gold vessel.

Laying on top of a layer of pink petals inside was a small scroll.

The note read, ‘These reminded me of ye, my Moonbeam.’

Her curiosity peaked, she shifted through the petals to reveal three diamond hair pins, forged into the shape of a moon flower, no larger than her thumbnail and a dozen fine pearl jewels on a velvet placard.

The brilliant shine of them stole her breath.

She ran her hand along the outline of the moon pin.

These were treasures she’d been banned from wearing as a servant in the human court.

As hair jewels and finery were reserved for the nobility.

She plucked a star from within the petals and secured it to the side of her head, unable to wait.

Heather stared into the flames of the hearth fire and considered the events of the evening.

She had so many questions concerning pixies and the ribbon wishes.

The never-ending rain dampened her day. Jessa and Mae were two of the most resourceful women she knew…

but if all their food sources were reduced to a rotting death, even they would fail.

She suspected the bard who sang before His Majesty was the one Skye mentioned.

With lifetimes spent in a different realm, no wonder he looked as if he stepped out of the past. His haunting lyrics echoed in her mind.

And the rumblings of the maid’s claim the rains were a punishment for the sovereign.

Had king Willem made the divine spirits irate?