It wasn’t done by any explicit agreement. Our feet simply took us meandering towards the outskirts of the town, and then beyond, into the fields that stretched between our slice of civilization and the distant meeting point of the two rivers.

  Kiri and I were quiet as we walked. Neither of us seemed willing to speak until our privacy was assured.

  It was interesting to note that the two of us had never spent any real time together. There had always been someone else there, or activities that took our attention away from conversation with each other. I now found myself suspecting that Kiri had ensured this by design.

  Finally, she stopped walking and stared straight ahead.

  “You know.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a proclamation, tinged with mild frustration.

  “Yes, I do.”

  I had no reason to deny it. Kiri wasn’t a fool. In fact, she had probably been aware of my knowledge ever since I corrected her about common fae and their unfortunate lack of surnames.

  She was quiet for several long seconds. Then a weary sigh left her lips, and the Royal Winter Fae sat down right there in the grass. I didn’t hesitate to join her, shivering a little at the cold, wet grass as my body heat melted the thin patches of frost.

  “I know I am not skilled at deception,” she said quietly. “The only skills I’ve ever had are working with animals, and making sure no one pays attention to me. The latter is probably the only reason I survived. My mother… she didn’t go out of her way to remember us, but I knew what would happen if she ever did remember me. So I never gave her a reason to think about me at all.”

  “I’ve heard the stories, obviously. Is she really as horrible as they say?” I wondered.

  “Worse. They tell the stories, but…” Kiri paused for a moment, still staring straight ahead. “Her lovers never last long. I think only a handful of us met our fathers as babies, and even those few didn’t have their fathers around by the time they grew into children. She only lets us grow up because it amuses her, I think.”

  I shuddered. It was one of the most consistent warnings across the Courts: do everything you can to avoid catching Mab’s eye. If you are unfortunate enough to gain her attention, run and hide. Maybe you’ll manage to conceal yourself until she forgets about you.

  The trouble is, the Winter Queen was supposedly every bit as enchanting as she was cruel. So many fools were eager to believe they could be the one to break Winter’s streak of what she liked to do with her toys. Just as many didn’t care, so long as they got to be a part of her life for a little while.

  My own upbringing paled in comparison. My mother, Mirathana, wasn’t a model of maternal affection, but she certainly hadn’t been as horrible a mother as Mab. In fact, as far as fae Nobility went, Miranatha wasn’t a horrible mother at all.

  That was the problem. If I could truly resent my parents with all my heart, I would feel much better about myself.

  I cleared my throat. “What made you decide to…?”

  “Run?”

  I nodded, offering her an apologetic shrug.

  “Out of all the children she’s had, and my mother seems to take pleasure in raising us for slaughter, only one of my siblings ever survived her. We think.”

  “Think?”

  “We think, because he just… left. One day, he ran. No one ever heard anything about him afterwards.”

  “And if Winter had found him, you would know,” I mused. Mab was not one for subtle punishments. She would have made an example of this wayward Prince.

  “That is what we believe. Well, those of my siblings I spoke to on occasion. We… didn’t like each other very much. Mother likes to pit us against each other. Still, if he could do it, I thought I might be able to.”

  She glanced back towards Swiftband. “I just… didn’t imagine it would be like this. This fear that she’ll show up one day. I can’t even bring myself to spend too much time in town, around people I know and trust.”

  I said nothing, but my grimace communicated how deeply I understood.

  “I…” After hesitating for a few more seconds, I let out a sigh. “You know I’m not exactly normal either, right?”

  She nodded. “You are definitely not a common fae. I wasn’t sure at first, but… I have eyes on everything and everyone. I’ve made sure I can protect the town, and that I can spot strangers long before they arrive so I can make myself scarce. So… I’ve noticed things.”

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  Instead of responding, I pulsed my mana, making sure there were no pesky kitsune or other tricky observers concealing themselves nearby. Even after confirming that we were alone, I almost abandoned my intended plan. But I couldn’t. Our shared circumstances had given me an undeniable sense of kinship with the Winter fae.

  Finally, I tugged on a strand of my hair and let my poison leech out of both it and my eyes.

  A small gasp escaped Kiri at the sight of my vibrant red hair and striking green eyes before I hurriedly reasserted my disguise.

  “Autumn?” she whispered.

  “Yes.” I gave a small, mock bow with a sad smile attached. “Lianthorn Belladonna, at your service, Lady Hyacinth.”

  She winced at the sound of Winter’s surname, then inclined her head in a regal half-bow. “Kythaela Hyacinth. That is my proper name. It feels so odd even to say it now.”

  “I understand that. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll fall out of habit of answering to my name at all. I am just Thorn now, and… I like it.”

  The honesty was plain in my voice. In spite of what I’d left behind, in spite of the memories of my mother still clamoring for my attention and refusing to let go, I would never trade Alys for anything. The warmth I felt around her, the sense of easy belonging and acceptance…

  My life as a Belladonna simply couldn’t compare.

  “I admit this is much better than what I had, too,” Kiri admitted sardonically, her lips twitching ever so slightly in an attempt to smile. “Even with the fear and worry. Having no active threats to my health and safety has been… refreshing.”

  I hummed in agreement. A comfortable silence settled between us for a while before I gave into my curiosity.

  “Penelope,” I began. “You supported her and Nasha the whole way through. You must have known about her from the start. Which means you also knew that she was the one who hurt Nasha.”

  I left the question unspoken, but it wasn’t hard to infer. I wanted to know why.

  Kiri drew her knees up to her chest and closed her arms around her legs, looking so fragile that I almost withdrew my implicit request.

  Before I could, though, she started to answer.

  “The Winter Court has done so many horrible things, I would have trouble listing them all. We are the ones who started the Wild Hunts, and the ones who leaned into those stories the most. But every Hunt needs its Hounds. And every Winter fae is naturally talented at subduing beasts for whatever purposes we wish to turn them to. For some Winter fae, however, normal beasts were not enough. Powerful Winter fae can suborn magical beasts, of course, like I did with that river monster, but that is a rare ability. So, some members of my Court looked for… alternatives.”

  She fell silent, struggling to continue as I considered her.

  If I was an exception among fae, then Kiri was beyond extraordinary. I hadn’t ever heard of empathy in a Winter fae. Yet Kiri seemed genuinely torn about the subject we were discussing, and her Court’s actions in general.

  I didn’t know what had shaped her into who she was today. A part of me, the curious, selfish part, felt tempted to dig. To prod and tear until I learned all her secrets. It was a very easy impulse to squash, but it was there, despite the friendship I felt towards her.

  Finally, she forced herself to resume her tale. “These members of my Court decided to experiment. They picked beastfolk races that appealed to them and… twisted those races. Tried to reduce them to something bestial enough that our skills over animals would apply to them. Sapient races tend to resist familiar contracts, as you probably know, but those Winter Court fae managed to accomplish their goal. Partially.”

  Suddenly, everything about Penelope made a great deal more sense. The resemblance to catkin, the exaggerated animal characteristics… She was a beastfolk. Or, rather, her ancestors were.

  “Yet their work was not complete,” Kiri was saying. “They could suborn these twisted beastfolk and force them to obey, but the beastfolk’s minds were still intact, and they could resist the orders given. When their masters weren’t focused on them, this became easier still. The new slaves bided their time. Eventually, there was an uprising… or an attempt at one. The slaves were slaughtered, and the experiment was discarded.”

  A brand new subspecies, created and then capriciously eliminated at the whim of members of my race. Not my Court, certainly, but I couldn’t pretend that Autumn Nobles hadn’t done things just as objectionable.

  Kiri’s voice was bitter. “I didn’t think I’d ever see a living member of Pen’s species. Some of the corpses were preserved. Kept as trophies and such, to mock their attempt to strike at their betters.”

  The muscles of her face twitched, trying to form a scowl. They failed, as always.

  “When I saw her… I waited until after Nasha left her there and went to town for treatment, and I approached her. I helped how I could. I, too, have been teaching her our language. She is very motivated to surprise Nasha with her rapid improvement.”

  Were she capable of it, I knew Kiri would have been smiling, now.

  “Nasha doesn’t know, does she?” I asked. “Not just about the lessons.”

  “No, she does not. I… asked Pen not to tell her. I don’t want to have to explain everything to her, and I don’t need Nasha’s thanks. Pen’s, either. Nothing I can do will make up for my Court’s actions. I just wish I’d known about her people sooner.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said earnestly. “What happened to them, I mean. I am certainly not about to take responsibility for every single misdeed committed by Autumn Court fae. Or even by my own family. It motivates me to help people, yes, but it’s not worth tearing ourselves apart.”

  She laughed. It was a very melodious sound, though there was a certain cruel undertone to it, like the taunting of Winter winds that pierce through every layer of clothing and chill you to the bone.

  “Perhaps. Still, the simple fact that they had to run all the way out here, to the frontier, just to get away from my Court…” Kiri shook her head. “If they could have settled down in a proper kingdom, that eel couldn’t have wiped them out like it did. Pen would not have lost her family.”

  “She might not have met Nasha, either,” I pointed out, though it sounded hollow even as I said it.

  Romantic love was a wonderful thing, but I wasn’t sure how it compared to a loving family. I certainly wasn’t going to ask Pen if she thought her newfound relationship with Nasha was worth the death of everyone she knew.

  “What are we to do, if they ever find us?” Kiri asked suddenly, refusing to look in my direction.

  I considered that for a moment. The idea made me genuinely sick to my stomach.

  Finally, I said, “I won’t begrudge you if I’m discovered and you choose to run. In fact, please do. Maybe try to help as many of the townsfolk as possible to make it out alive, also.”

  Her nod was solemn. “I will. Please do the same. I don’t want my Court getting their hands on the people I care about.”

  There was nothing else to say on the subject, really. The silence that settled between us this time was not a comfortable one.

  If anything, it made the Winter chill just a bit more biting.