8. All the Way

The next day, I awaken from a slumber so deep, I might as well have flirted with death. It pains me to admit, but One was right. I'm not in shape. I ran my heart out yesterday morning, midday, and evening, and crashed in bed early, the stress and exhaustion of my first day in Faerie catching up to my body. Nothing bad had happened, and yet I tremble at the thought of doing it all over again today, my calves and hamstrings riddled with pain.

"Good morning, Nell," Baka greets me from the foot of the bed.

I stretch out my sore arms and crack my neck. "Good morning."

A fresh uniform lies on the duvet, but Baka points to the back of the room. "I took the liberty of drawing you a fresh, hot bath."

My heart sings at the prospect. "I love you."

She giggles at my outburst. "Come on now, princess. Let's soothe yer sore muscles. Stretch first, then the bathtub. I added a few of my special herbs to the water to get ye ready for the day." She teaches me a few stretching exercises that turn my cramped muscles into a slightly more supple mass.

After we're done, I sink inside the tub with a low hum. The water is smooth and velvety, like I'm sinking into a tub of heated honey—but without the stickiness.

Baka starts brushing my long mane. "It's so long. Doesn't it get in the way? Do you want me to cut it?"

I purse my lips, considering her question. No other woman here wears her hair quite as long as me, but I'm torn. "A princess is expected to never cut her hair."

"In Demeter, maybe. But not here."

"I like it as it is, but thank you."

The discussion does bring me back to my first night, and Mara's ambiguous comment. Water sloshes around me as I shift to look at Baka. "Why did Mara say that I had bleached hair? What does it mean?"

The sprite snorts. "She's ignorant is all. Ye have what they call platinum blonde hair, and in the new world, women use a product called bleach to achieve that look."

"Oh." I frown at her answer, unsure why anyone would want to change the color of their hair. I relax in the water, pondering the differences between the old world and the new.

After the bath, Baka sends me on my way. The layout of the tunnels and stairs that lead to the palace's ground floor is starting to make sense, and I quickly reach the long trail that weaves in and out of the gardens. Still too sore to run, I keep a brisk pace and walk a full loop.

Near the end of the path, a low buzzing sound captures my attention. Small black birds whistle and cackle in the small fountain near the arched trellis, and I inch closer to take a better look. The wings of the creatures are thin and papery, with matching ears. Oblivious to my presence, they frolic in the water.

Not birds…They've got long, pointy noses, and a few of them hold small flowers to their mouth like big jugs of nectar. And they're all naked.

A storm of joyous gargles, round buttocks, and tiny, hairy armpits splash around in the water, and I crack a smile. Suddenly, one of them squeaks in warning, and the flock of creatures scatters in the wind—all but one.

The black imp flies right in front of my face, and I draw back, spooked. Before I can escape, he tilts his chin up with haughty glare and slaps my nose.

The brief contact stings, and my cheeks burn at the evident reproach. "Whoa, sorry."

An indignant hmph echoes through the trees as the creature flies off in a blur of smoke.

What the…

I take cover under the balcony to regroup. I can't forget where I am, not for a minute. Faerie is full of dangers—and little bats that take their privacy seriously. Guilt for ogling the imps' bath routine mixes with an unfathomable sense of wonder in my blood.

Feeling a little foolish, I rub down my sore nose and climb the steep staircase to the second floor.

Where is everybody?

Long metal railings open to the glory of the royal gardens, and the unobstructed view of the Hawthorn steals my breath. Its thick green canopy filters the rays of the Fae sun, and teal moss cascades down its white branches. A few strands tumble close enough to the banister for me to reach for it.

Faerie can't be as bad as Father wants me to believe if it houses something so beautiful.

My dark teacher and fellow seedlings are nowhere to be found, so I grab a quick bite to eat. The table in the middle of the balcony offers a wide array of choices like fruits, pastries, water, juices, and coffee. Seamless mirrors line the exterior walls, reflecting the gardens back to me, the scenery endless and ethereal.

I sample a few known breakfast items and nibble on a pulpous, sweet and sour yellow piece of fruit. The peace and quiet, along with the beauty of the gardens, ease my homesickness.

The sun is at its zenith in the sky when I finally decide to check out the bibliotheca One talked about. Behind the golden-plated doors, stacks and stacks of books stretch three stories high above my head. A dozen working tables and chairs are set in regular intervals on the ground floor, and light filters through the stained glass windows.

A beautiful round medallion window shines above the others. The multi-faceted masterpiece depicts the Hawthorn's branches and roots and bathes the room in yellow, red, and teal hues.

"Hi, welcome." The tall woman behind the librarian desk waves me over.

I tiptoe closer to her, my jaw slack at the bounty of books in this impressive library. "Hello."

Unlike Mara, this woman wears a loose black shirt and faded-blue pants, a very masculine look that hides her curves. Her raven-black hair is tied in a plain ponytail at the back of her head and contrasts nicely with her light brown skin.

The clear shade of her gray eyes reminds me of a pleasant, rainy summer day. "You're the seedling from the old world, aren't you? Mara told me about you," she says.

"Yes. I'm from Demeter."

Her jaw hangs open at the news, and she eyes me up and down. "Aren't you like…super religious?"

I stare at her until she blushes.

"I'm so sorry. That was rude. I'm Lori. I'm a sprout." She extends her hand, but I'm not quite sure what she wants me to do with it.

Only the strongest seeds will sprout.

"So you were…"

She lets her hand fall to her side. "A seed, yes. There are four stages of training. Seeds, Sprouts, Sepals, and Stigmas. Seedlings are seeds that haven't taken their vows yet."

"Botany for the morally challenged," I mumble.

"Sorry?" Lori asks, her hand flying to the criss-cross ear cuffs covering the roundness of her ear.

"Demeter citizens worship Gaia, the Mother of all life. Botanical terms are usually reserved for the study of her sacred plants," I explain.

Esme gave me lessons about different religions and different gods, but it's still jarring to meet people who have no idea who our Mother is and what she stands for. Despite Lori's assumptions, I'm not half as religious as I should be. If Gaia was really as just and benevolent as my father implies, I wouldn't be stuck here.

"So seeds, sprouts…"

"Sepals and stigmas," she repeats patiently before pointing to my face. "Did you get slapped by a Nyx?"

I reach out to graze the tip of my nose. "Oh, yeah."

"Pesky little devils. Don't worry, the red mark will fade in about a day."

"Good to know." I lean on the desk, trying to contain the storm brewing in my chest. "Are there other…creatures I should be wary of?"

"Nope. The castle is pretty much empty. The other hunters are all away on assignments, and the weavers live in the new world. There are sixteen of us in total. Long before my time, I heard there were dozens, but—" Her gaze falls to the ground.

"Go on."

"I shouldn't. Not until you've taken your vows."

My heart beats faster in my chest. This woman isn't new to this world, and yet she's not Fae, and so far I get nothing but good vibes from her. Maybe she's my only chance to get real answers about what the king plans to do with me.

"Vows? What do they entail?" I ask wistfully.

Vows of chastity are spoken by Gaia's priests and priestesses. Vows of obedience must be sworn in marriage. But I don't think Lori means either of those types of vows.

"I can't speak about the specifics. It's an initiation thing. You can never know what's coming. Only… Don't expect to make it all the way through the ranks. There's only been one new Sepal in the last few years, and there hasn't been a Stigma in decades."

Don't expect to make it all the way…

My breath stutters. "What happens to the people who don't make it all the way?"

"Sorry. I don't know the details, and even if I did…" she trails off with a wince.

"You couldn't say. Got it." I rub my nails along a crack in the wood of her desk, searching for a more innocuous question. "Where is One?"

The stiffness in her spine eases. "I haven't seen him since lunch yesterday, so he's probably off-world, leading the great hunt."

"Huh?"

A grin spreads across her face. "Great hunts increase the magic of the realm, but they are incredibly dangerous. You'll be lucky to catch a glimpse of One before your first trial. Sucks for you that you got nightmares first. I got dreams, and Two craves his pupils' attention."

I blink away my surprise—and disappointment. I should be relieved, really, but I'm just confused. "What the crops am I doing here if the king and my mentor are nowhere to be found?"

Am I really expected to train, or is it just a ruse? So far, all my preconceptions about Faerie or my place here were misconstrued… I don't know what to think anymore.

Lori's face creases in either confusion or commiseration, or a mix of both. "Things get quite busy for Faerie folks before St-John's Eve. One should be more available after the solstice."

"St-John's Eve is a Fae holiday, right?" I ask.

She gives me a sharp nod. "The Fae Summer celebration. Each Fae holiday"—she mimes air quotes with her hands—"brings the monarchs together for a ritual that ensures the survival of the realm. You should read about the Faerie seasons and rejuvenation of its magic. Foghar comes after summer and brings in the best food. And you'll want to learn as much as you can about Morheim, the Shadow Court's hunt. The hunters who do well there get to prove their worth, so to speak."

She peruses the cart behind her. "And you won't get into runes before you've completed the first trial, but it can't hurt to learn the basics. Some of those suckers are so damn similar." Her dislike for the "runes" is obvious despite the few odd words she used to describe them.

"How long have you lived here, in Faerie?" I ask.

I watch her open face for tells, but she exudes nothing but joy and confidence as she answers, "Fiona, Mitch, and I were all seeds last year." Her eyes dim. "The other three girls that arrived along with us didn't sprout."

I want to ask more, want to know what happened to the seeds that didn't sprout and get to the bottom of it all, but relationships need time, and confidences are earned. Lori has already told me a ton, and judging by her bubbly personality, probably more than she should have.

"Thanks for the insight." I scout the rows and rows of books with a pang of longing, my mind struggling to keep the Faerie seasons straight. "Since I'm here…do you have specific books to recommend?"