The sky hung low and dark above us, as if hovering over our shoulders. Crickets sang in the summer night, and a soft breeze rustled the trees around the fairy circle.

  I held my breath as I poured red wine into the golden goblet, careful not to spill a single drop. Beside me Ronan meticulously organized an array of pastries on a tray. Friar Tuck drizzled a tray of diced fruits with honey.

  The fey feast, set just inside the fairy circle, was tradition for this particular holiday, a celebration of the fey queen’s coronation. But not the large platter we had staged it on, polished to a mirror shine, the beautiful golden goblet and trays, and the fine embroidered linen cloth we would use to cover the tray. Those were offerings to the fey from Ronan and my visions. Maybe, if we pleased her enough, she would offer us some aid. Maybe.

  Fey are fickle, greedy creatures. Who knows if this will work.

  I leaned back, setting the bottle of wine aside and picking up the linen from where it rested in the basket we had brought, unfolding it carefully. Ronan and Friar Tuck finished the last details of their trays and each took a corner of the richly embroidered cloth.

  “Long live the fey queen, and those who are loyal to her majesty,” we said in unison as we carefully draped the cloth over the tray. “May those who follow her majesty and accept this offering in her name be pleased.”

  Friar Tuck stepped back and made a shooing motion to Ronan and me.

  “May the one who speaks to us in visions accept this gift,” Ronan and I continued, our voices slow as we repeated the carefully rehearsed phrases. “May the one who sees us favorably offer us wisdom and knowledge to use the gifts given to us well.”

  As one, Ronan and I stood and took a step back. I watched the tray carefully, my heart pounding in my ears. We had done everything just right; the food, the drink, and the gifts prepared just-so.

  This has to work. If not…

  The tray sat on the forest floor, unmoving. Minutes ticked by. The moon rose higher in the sky, the air cooler and sharper than before.

  It has to work.

  Friar Tuck picked up the basket we had used to carry our offering to the fairy circle.

  “Come now,” he said as he walked past us. “The fey are feeling a bit shy, I suppose. We’ll check back in the morning.”

  It didn’t work.

  I sighed and turned, following Friar Tuck down the well-worn path and out of the forest.

  ***

  I stared up at the ceiling. Light filtered in through the curtains, brightening the space with mid-morning sun. The world felt quiet and empty.

  Maybe I should just move here and study the fey with Friar Tuck. Robin wouldn’t mind me staying out of harm’s way. Marian might put up a fight… I’ll just show them my ear.

  Someone dropped something outside my door. I rolled over to face the wall, covering my head with my blanket.

  My door creaked open and the tap of claws on the wood floor echoed through the little room.

  Did Friar Tuck send in one of his dogs to cheer me up?

  I rolled over to my other side, scanning the room. My door was open a crack, but not enough for Friar Tuck’s pets, canines of a larger breed, to enter.

  Soft laughter filled the small room, high-pitched and light like a child’s.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I half sat up, propped up on my elbow as I leaned over to peer over the side of my bed.

  A fox looked back up at me with big, childlike eyes like deep pools of dark blue paint. Its fur was a peculiar swirl of black and orange all over, though its back and tail were mostly black. Its sharp teeth glinted in the sun as it seemed to grin up at me.

  What on earth is a fox doing here?

  I leaned slightly closer to the fox. It wagged its tail like a dog as it sat beside my bed, moving its front paws up and down in a happy prance.

  It must be someone’s pet. But who in Sherwood would keep a fox?

  I sighed and flopped onto my back, covering my head with my blanket. I didn’t want to get up yet. I didn’t want to deal with the fox, or anything else for that matter.

  Maybe if I ignore it the creature will leave.

  I felt the blanket shift. I turned my head just in time to see the fox poke its head into my little cave under my blanket, barely an inch away from my face.

  I blinked, and a woman’s face appeared where the fox had once been.

  I sat up, screaming, heart pounding in my ears.

  The woman fell back onto the floor, roaring with laughter as she rolled back and forth.

  Ronan threw my door open, dagger in hand. Friar Tuck moved to stand just behind him, peering into my room with interest.

  “You’ve attracted a fey,” he declared. “How delightful!”

  I gripped my blanket in a white-knuckled grasp, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

  The fey, for she couldn’t be anything else, sat up.

  “The great princess of Sherwood, scared silly by a mere fox!” she laughed, gasping for air. “How utterly delightful.”

  Her eyes, the same unfathomable deep blue as the fox’s, twinkled. Pointed ears poked out of her wild mane of black and orange curls, and freckles dusted her face and arms, standing out against her dark skin. She wore dark green wide-legged trousers covered in embroidery that made the fabric resemble leaves, and a matching buttoned-up shirt without sleeves to match. With her arms bare, her hair down, and her feet free from shoes, she looked every inch a wild thing.

  Definitely a fey.

  “Why are you here?” Ronan asked, his voice hard. “What do you want?”

  The fey leaned back on her elbows, head tipped back to peer at Ronan. “You must be the Shade. So direct. How dull.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  The fey jumped to her feet with a grace that rivaled even the best human dancer. She turned to face Ronan.

  “You don’t seem happy,” she commented, stretching. “Oh dear, you all seem like such a serious crowd. This will be dreadfully boring.”

  “What will be boring?” I asked. “Why did you come here?”

  The fey spun to face me once more, a grin spread across her face.

  “The queen very much liked your gifts. She was feeling quite generous.”

  “The queen?” Ronan asked, meeting my gaze.

  “The fey queen?” I guessed.

  “No, silly! The queen of Sherwood, not fey.” The fey wrinkled her button nose in disgust.

  “Did the queen of Sherwood send you, miss fey?” Friar Tuck asked.

  The fey turned her back on me once more. “I suppose she did.”

  “Did she give you any tasks?”

  “To prepare the young royals for their exams.”

  “Ah, I see. You must be very knowledgeable on these things for the queen to trust you so,” Friar Tuck soothed.

  The fey straightened. “I suppose I am quite well versed in human magic and fey customs.”

  “You must have a great many accomplishments,” Friar Tuck added. “I would love to hear of them. Perhaps over breakfast?”

  “Food?”

  The fey somehow straightened even more.

  “Yes, and tea. But first, tell me what you prefer to be called.”

  “I go by Kismet,” the fey said, stepping past Ronan without a glance his way, hands clasped. “Do you have sweets?”

  Friar Tuck nodded. “Follow me.”

  The air around the fey shimmered. I blinked, and she was gone. The fox stood where Kismet had stood only moments before.

  She can change forms?

  The fox pranced off after Friar Tuck, wagging her tail in glee.

  Ronan sheathed his dagger, but didn’t move from his spot by the door.

  “Did you need something?” I asked.

  Ronan shook his head, then turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

  I sighed as I slid out of bed.

  Is this the fey from my vision’s answer? Why do I feel like this will be more trouble than it's worth?