Page 11 of Fairies Never Fall

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Of course,” I lie.

“The riigan wine is helping you sleep?” Syril presses gently.

“Yes.” I look down. “Thank you.”

“I can still find someone for you to talk to. It helps to be understood — trust me, I know it.” They sit delicately on the other end of the divan, too far to accidentally touch me. Nonetheless, I grip my hands together tighter.

Talk to someone? It sounds ridiculous. What would I talk about?

“I don’t see how it would help,” I tell them.

“I think you need to open up tosomeone, Lysander.”

“I’d rather not.” My jaw tightens. My mother is gone. Elsabeth left me. There’s no amount of talking that would bring them back to me.

Syril sighs. “Let’s discuss the festivities, then.”

“Yes, please.”

I make an effort to unwind enough to participate. Monsters have three traditional festivals — the Greening at the spring equinox, the Crossing at midsummer, and the Solstice at midwinter. Festivals in the safe house were celebrated quietly, but Syril organizes grand gatherings every year. I agreed to bepart of the celebrations this year, but the tangible requirement is still unclear, and I tell Syril so.

A gleam enters Syril’s eye. “To be frank, darling, what I need is easy. Simply your willing presence. The Watchers are on my back about the size of our gatherings, saying they’ll attract humans, or that cross-species incidents could spill over into human territory. They claim to be factionless, but they’re royalists at heart — shadowfey royalists, no less, and King Hellebore and I do not always agree about what’s best for the community. Your official endorsement would hold his dogs at bay.”

Most of what Syril says goes over my head, but the gist is clear. “You just need me to… show up?”

“Precisely. Be a sponsor. Arrive wearing something suitably royal, look as though you approve, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“That seems simple enough,” I say slowly.

I’m not completely naive — I know by letting Syril parade me around, I’m aligning myself with them and their agenda. The thing is, after being here six months, I’m not sure I disagree with it at all. The four monster kingdoms have drawn distinct borders for centuries, or at least tried, but here in The Sanctum the lines blur and no one is worse off for it. Even wildlings like Lilian seem to have found a place. Borders feel… antiquated.

“Now, itistradition for royals to join the Crossing at midsummer,” Syril begins, and my stomach sinks.

“N-no,” I blurt unthinkingly.

The way their eyes widen fractionally makes me suddenly sick.

“I couldn’t possibly.” I hurry to cover my trip up. “I’m not my father’s heir.”

The Crossing is the oldest tradition, outstripping even the King’s Oath itself. It stems from a time when all monsters would cross Lake Ayucta to reach the island in the middle, thebirthplace of magic, where they replenished the very essence of their being. That was before cracks opened in other parts of this realm to let magic through. In those times, kings and common monsters would race side by side to reach the island first.

In later days, it became a symbol of commonality — a reminder that all monsters came from the same source, whether wildling, stoneskin, or waterspirit.

Shadowfey are, of course, different.

But for once it isn’t the idea of replacing the king — my father — that scares me. The truth is more selfish. I was just an infant when my mother, Elsabeth and I fled the wildling valley and escaped across the sea, but my subconscious must remember our long voyage, because on my long list of fears, water is close to the top. For years I couldn’t even take baths.

I can’t let Syril know that. It’s beyond embarrassing.

Syril frowns. “The monsters in Greenriver would be glad to see you join, heir or no. But I don’t mean to extract unwilling promises. Do what you’re comfortable with.”

“I can be a sponsor, whatever that entails,” I say firmly.

“Excellent.” The gleam becomes a sparkle. “You can see how as someone of mixed heritage, these kinds of inter-kingdom politics irritate me.”

I nod mutely, pretending I do, indeed, see.

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