I ran, the half-moon offering the perfect amount of light for my enhanced vision. I saw everything in the light as clearly as if it were noon, yet every pool of shadow was pitch black.

I kept checking the stars, making sure of my direction. Astronomy was one of the many ways I'd sought to add to my worth in the Harkley compound. I'd picked it because it was seen as harmless but of scholarly merit, the same as my work as a perfumier. Full alchemy of brews—the concoctions every cultivator chugged like water if they had the money—would've made me too valuable a resource to let go.

I had spent ages walking the fine line, adding enough value so I was not scrapped and turned into fuel for the curse, but not so much as to actually get any of the house heads' attention. I had finally been sold off in marriage to the Chox.

It had been a surprise announcement, and for a moment I was the darling of my family branch. It was a mixed blessing. Its greatest contribution was that it got me to the continent. I had assumed I would end up with some no-name family on Albion and have to make the crossing myself. Albion was the Harkleys' centre of power, and there was no chance I could breathe easy without putting it behind me.

Now, as I raced through the vast lands ruled over by the Chox, I at least did not have to fear being delivered back to my supposed family. I did, however, lack a lot of knowledge about the Chox lands. I had made great efforts to learn about the lands of my supposed family, and I'd even been given tutors to cram in more so as not to embarrass the family.

What I learned was about the local powers and towns, the monsters that roamed, the knightly orders big and small. No one taught me, and I dared not ask, how a wandering cultivator would be received, what papers they might expect, and how I should hide and blend in.

Those worries were nothing, though, compared to the freedom I felt running under the moonlight. I was free. I found myself dancing as I ran on occasion, the mirth and tingle in my limbs bubbling up without my say-so.

As I descended the mountain, the snows were fading, my enhanced speed and the slope leaving me all but flying downhill. The moon was at its zenith when I found a round pool maybe thirty paces across. The surface was a mirror of stars, the half-face held perfectly in the centre.

Standing before this mirror pool, I could see myself for the first time. I had long black hair and grey eyes, and my face was nicely average rather than the chiselled jaw and high cheekbones I'd had before. A value of beauty I'd enhanced in my first death, I'd been sure to take back my face. I did miss my eyes, though.

As I caught my breath, barely winded despite my long run, a strange fancy came upon me. I pulled out the silk strip and tied up my hair. It was me for the first time. I had to celebrate. I twirled my fingers—dancing was yet another talent I'd honed to add to my value. I had always danced under the eyes of constant evaluation.

All that watched me was the moon.

The air was rich in glamour. I could taste it, feel it on my skin like the heat of a summer's day. Not all glamour was aspected; some places were just closer to the fae. A detail that, in hindsight, was something I should've thought more about.

Walking up to the water's edge, I bowed to it. My mother's blood was that of a moon-aligned spirit. I hoped that some part of her was able to see this.

I began to dance. My movements were to the measured beat of a ballroom dance. I twirled about an invisible partner till I found my stride. I would not keep to those stale ballroom patterns. My dance changed—I began to cavort, to test the limits of my new body. I imitated the jesters of court, the circuses of my youth. I rollicked and rolled.

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I felt my laughter bubbling on my lips as I launched myself skyward, only to flip and spin, coming down facing the way I'd started and running backwards, keeping myself parallel to the lake the entire time.

Without noticing, I had traced the edge of the pool at least a couple of times, breathing hard, harder than I had from my run. I felt the finale coming on. Despite being barefoot, I pirouetted, my new body handling the strain on my exposed toe. I spun faster and faster, the lake being my fixed point so I did not dizzy myself.

Serenely, I came to a stop. One last impossible flip and spin, and I landed on one hand. Pulling deep on the glamour around me, I felt my Hearth surge. I rolled forward, rising to my feet in a bow to my celestial audience.

It was a dance done for myself, an expression of hard-won freedom, and an exploration of my limits. An indulgent moment of frivolity, not seeking nor worthy of applause.

Which made the burst of clapping all the more startling.

My head perked up, and there, standing at the edge of the water, was a woman. No. Not a person of flesh and blood but a spirit shaped as a woman, her body made of water, her robes of moonlight, and her hair studded with stars.

A normal cultivator would be very worried right now. Knights were full of warnings about water spirits. From selkies to sirens, water spirits took great pleasure in drowning their prey. Yet the spirit had no glamour of death about her. Her glamour, though, did give me pause—it was vast, as if I'd found myself trapped at the bottom of the pool before me.

Manners cost nothing, and five years in the Harkley household had inured me to that fear that something far more vast was going to just obliterate me. This spirit felt like one of the few times I'd met the retired Knight Commander who ran the family branch. If I had her good cheer, I must simply keep it.

I sprang up and bowed to the fae spirit, sending a small prayer that she'd be one of the Seelie. At least you had a chance with the Seelie.

I felt it better to let her speak. She had the face of a young woman, not the refined noble bearing of Maeve, but the round cheeks and genuine smile that reminded me of girls I'd only started to explore my feelings for back when I lived with my friends. She would not look out of place as a milkmaid.

"Sir, what a fine sight for mine eyes you bring."

"My lady, I appreciate your applause. I must confess I did not know you were watching. Your applause and the knowledge I have entertained you, however briefly, is a balm to the soul."

"Young knight, I would have your name, to know who I should give thanks to." She sounded giddy and a touch flirtatious, another contrast to Maeve. It was a dangerous question, though, and one uniquely challenging for me to answer. It was also impossible to tell with the fae if the question was innocently asked, or a malicious attempt to gain power over you.

"I give my apologies. I actually find myself without a name right now," I answered. I could see her eyebrows quirk. The fae could sense lies, and to know I was not lying must confound her. It was the truth—my old name was dead. In fact, I was never Regus. Nor the names I'd invented before.

"You grow more curious with every second, little phoenix. Strange to meet one so young who has already risen from the ashes. I would like to know how you found yourself at my lake this eve." The request was polite and was delivered with a boon. She'd provided evidence of my heritage, and like all things with the fae, it was a trade. If I left without spinning my tale, at worst she'd take the memory of those words with her. Or she might decide to trade out something else, like the ears I'd used to hear her words with.

"Of course... lady of luminous beauty, I shall share my tale." The word lake was still in my memory as I spoke, as the word lady waited to pass between my lips. My earlier calm threatened to fade. This was no pure maiden of some pool—she was a Lady of the Lake.

I might be in trouble.

As panic spiralled within, I took a bellows breath. The Lady of the Lake, one and many, were the things of legend. There was no chance I'd ended up here by chance. I was not even an errant ember on the wind compared to her bonfire. Her power had snared me. Whatever happened, happened. I was but a puppet in her hand. My only choice was to decide what winning in this situation looked like.

I'd found life came easier if I didn't grasp it with corpse-like rigour, so I put worrying about my survival to one side. What did I want? I'd felt some elation explaining my situation to Maeve. Telling even a scrap of my story had brought levity to me.

"My lady, I must begin at the beginning some twenty years ago. My mother, married to a foul tyrant, slipped his clutches and met someone I have no name for. I am the fruit of my mother's rebellion."