Fen padded through a wooden hallway with lanterns glowing dimly on either side. Some parts of the building were moldering, but they assured her that it was perfectly habitable. He led her into a neat little room for the evening, tucked away on one end of the cottage. A small table had been laid with little trinkets and offerings, as was the custom when keeping guests in the valley. The bed sat low to the ground, covered with fuzzy, woven fabrics. There was a pervasive smell of bergamot throughout the room. She gasped as flowers unfurled on the wall above the bed, revealing little sparkling lights within. The grandeur of her escape struck her again like little bubbles popping inside her chest; she truly was in another world, away from home.

Fen swayed past her to loop back out the door, and Elodie noticed that his side had been closed properly. Now, all that was left was a paleish-white scar that she was sure would be forgotten once it was covered with fur again. Although their relationship was tenuous, considering his trickery and her naivete, she had seen how it pained him, and gladness welled inside her to see it gone.

"Good night, Fen. And thank you for-"

Fen barked, and a snarl followed. Elodie was seized where she stood from his sudden intensity. "Never thank someone from this forest." His fur flattened some, but his jaw remained tight. "It leaves you in their debt." His voice quieted, lost in some faraway place. "That was how I became bonded to Thalia."

Pieces snapped into place like a button closing over a coat. Just how long had Fen been here? And had it been a careless word, or had Thalia tricked him somehow? "I apologize." The words tasted dry in her mouth.

Fen's left eye twitched in silent reproach. He turned and exited with a flick of his tail.

His departure left Elodie alone with her thoughts as she climbed into bed. Set into one end of the room was a circular window. The wood that framed the window was set in overlapping rectangles in a spiraling pattern, as though the wood that made up the house had grown naturally in such a way. Outside, the air was polka-dotted with fireflies flickering blue and green even in the dead of winter. It gave the outside world an ethereal light that made Elodie smile, even despite Fen's surly mood. Thalia made such beautiful things and gave them such a dreamlike quality that she found it hard to align them with the trickster stories she'd heard at the castle.

Thalia's gifts are great, but so too are their curses.

Elodie's fists balled into the blankets. Thalia has been nothing but kind.

Deceivers can be kind.

Her mood soured with each telepathic word. Well, I'm leaving tomorrow. So we'll soon be away from it.

* * *

A familiar blurry white feeling crossed her mind as a hailstorm of questions crossed her mind and mixed with the steam that swirled off a cup of tea on the table before her. Above them, a chandelier made of living, pink lilies lazily opened to greet the morning. Inside each bloom was a soft glowing ball of light that lit up one by one to illuminate the cozy kitchen they sat in.

"I could tell you that." Thalia's lips sat in a sickle-shaped smile. "But it wouldn't do you much good. Every orator's relationship with their muse is different. It's like ... sparrow song."

When Thalia saw Elodie's blank expression, they waved a hand towards a window over the sink, where several brown and black birds pecked through the snow with stubby beaks, eager to find seeds in the haven Thalia created. "When I feel spring should arrive, they'll each sing a song to find their mate. Sparrows practice their repertoire for weeks, adding notes and little trills from those around them. Yet they never deviate far from the ancestral song within them- their unique pattern and notation give them the spark that attracts that which is necessary for survival." Thalia whistled a low sound, and three sunflowers burst from the ground, seeds spilling as they yawned open. The sparrows pipped and hopped nearer. "I can give you notes to add to your song, my little sparrow, but only your muse decides if they like the tune."

Elodie contemplated the information. "So ... there's nothing you can teach me?"

"I didn't say that," Thalia rebutted, their lower lip jutting slightly. "There's still much about being an orator I can share." Thalia preened from across the table. Just as suddenly as pride had taken them, sorrow quickly followed. The butterflies floating around them sank, as did the wings in Thalia's hair. "Giving something for nothing isn't the forest way, though. We gave something without payment once, and we will NOT be doing that again." She tilted up her nose and gave Elodie a half-lidded gaze. "What would be the recompense for my knowledge?"

"I'm afraid I didn't bring any marks ... Perhaps I could make an arrangement for money to be sent to you when I return to the castle today?"

"Marks, coins, crowns- all your confusing metal currencies are useless to me here," Thalia said, gesturing to their surroundings. It was true; the little kitchen they sat in had little in the way of artificiality. It was all hand-made goods and cast-iron pans that looked older than any guess Elodie could make.

"I ... could work for it? I've been told I'm very good at organizing ..." She looked down at Fen, who rested at Thalia's feet, for assistance. He whined lowly as if to say, "You're on your own."

Thalia gripped the table's edge, and Elodie could see some of their teeth twisted to points as they spoke. "Are you saying my home is messy?"

"No!" Equal parts of her were worried that she'd offended Thalia and scared of the speed at which Thalia changed moods. Even talking to Thalia left her with an electric feeling in the twists of her joints. Fight or flight in a creature that had never had to make a fist before.

Thalia snickered a laugh that sounded like a bell. The noise filled the vacuous forest, rising over the birdsong from the sparrows. It was strange, to Elodie, to hear a laugh that sounded as mischievous as it was empty.

Elodie's voice was quiet in comparison to such a complex laugh. "Then ... what do you want?"

Fen's tail stopped swaying. Thalia's pupils dilated, the outer rings contracting just slightly inwards. "Only your time," she suggested. "I'm a bit of a hummingbird, and it could take me quite a while ... not to mention the creation of an instrument requires patience and effort on your part, and you'll need an instrument if you want to fix your little mistake. Hm." They theatrically put a finger on their chin, savoring the long, drawn-out silence they created. Elodie could tell by the dramatics that Thalia enjoyed watching her squirm. It made Elodie's skin crawl. Yet she also leaned forward, wanting to hear the end of the sentence. "Maybe three days? That is if you can make it in a timely fashion."

Out of habit, Elodie began to reply a noble's refusal: "I wouldn't want to impose on you for so long-"

"Please, it's my invitation."

Elodie, her muse rumbled with warning.

Elodie shared the sentiment. "I think being away that long would worry everyone ... I really think I have to refuse. Perhaps you could come to the castle- I could ask Prince Braum to invite you! As a guest."

Another long silence followed. Thalia shrunk in on themself, and the whole room grew cold in response. Elodie could even see a few mushrooms budding in the corners of the kitchen, popping between the ridges of the floorboards. "I've been a bad host. You want to leave."

"No, no-"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"I've bothered you with my prattle. You feel put upon. Fen- I told you it was much too much of me."

"No- ah- that is-"

"And there was so much I hoped to tell you. But I understand, I'll ready an escort back to your castle at once-"

Elodie grit her teeth. "Please, let me get a word in!" Thalia was quiet at that. Elodie breathed through her nose and said with an even tone, "Could I at least send another message to his highness? To explain."

Elodie.

"Elodie! I'd love nothing more! I shall send a message, and we will begin first thing after breakfast. Do pass the sugar."

* * *

Thalia and Elodie walked through the woods. Hellebores and pansies grew at their feet as they moved through cool, moss-covered trees. Thalia showed her where to find sweet honey without disturbing bees, and how to pinch touch-me-not flowers in just the right places to slow their ballistic pollination. They frolicked with dire wolves, and Elodie was shocked when one let her nuzzle into warm tufts of fur on its chest. Elodie drank in Thalia's knowledge, and their command over nature. She was very sure that if Thalia had willed it, a lion might spring up from the roots of a tree, or a river might change its course. She longed for that power with a meek curiosity, and followed Thalia nearly everywhere they went.

"To begin with," Thalia's voice called from a pace or two ahead on the deer path. They were much faster at moving through the forest but patiently waited for Elodie to catch up to them each time. A pair of elk flanked their trail, tails flitting and noses wet with the morning. She had never seen the beasts outside of a harness with a sleigh or wagon pulled behind them. Branches snapped as they moved up the path, and three other plants grew in the places they damaged. "When two orators meet for the first time, and then any time they so choose after that, their crowns appear. Small invocations of our muses."

Truth, her muse chimed.

"No one knows the origin or why it happens-"

Lie.

"-except that it does help confirm when faced with impersonators attempting to usurp our prestige within the world."

Truth.

"Would you be quiet? I'm trying to listen!" Elodie said, exasperated.

Thalia's wings vacillated a vibrant red and orange color, and they whipped around to face her with an aura of bloodlust.

Fen paced in front of Elodie, eyes narrowed.

For her part, Elodie flushed bright red with embarrassment and tried to hide inside her cloak. "I'm so sorry, I was talking to-"

"That's another thing." Thalia's wings flipped back to their brilliant cerulean color, and they continued walking as though they hadn't just made a vibrant display of fury. "You can orate out loud, but you can also speak the words within yourself or without words at all if the sentiment is strong enough." They bowed dramatically like a magician, and with a wave of their hand and a whistle, one of the roots on the ground rose in a straight line. Thalia snapped it off, and when they handed it to Elodie, the top of the root curled into a bouquet of flowers and bells.

"Like that," Elodie confirmed, squeezing her new walking stick.

"Precisely. All that matters is that you communicate your intent and that you are understood."

Elodie wondered if Thalia had some system worked out with their muse to denote what each whistle meant, like speaking in code. Perhaps Thalia's muse was very systematic, or maybe they had both lived long enough to devise and implement such a system.

Thalia is-

"And this instrument. Having one will help somehow?"

"Instruments are a tool for orators. Writers have their pens; knights have their swords. We have instruments."

"But what does it do?"

"It's something like ... a well. You can fill it when you're overflowing and empty it to amplify an oration. We each have at least one- I think it was Euterpe that made one first, and then we all followed suit."

Lie.

"And I'll need one of these instruments ... to help Ann?"

"Most certainly. The kind of magic you're talking about is undoing a curse. Curses are orations of their own, the kind that anyone can do. The problem with curses from orators is that they require an equally powerful oration to undo. Normally an understanding of the curse provides the words you would need to undo it, but since you weren't present ..." Thalia grew uncharacteristically pensive, then their cheerful mood returned. "Well, you'll just have to brute force your way around it."

They arrived at a frozen lake with a crescent shape to it. Jabbing rushes were frozen along the shoreline, giving the appearance of white, shimmering combs placed upwards between the pebbles that slipped into the lake. The lake's surface had a mirror sheen to it, pockmarked by minor scratches and air bubbles made when the water had frozen. In the lake's center was a small islet that contained only a horizontal slab of stone and a small copse of snow-laden trees. Winter had a silvery grip on this haunt, holding it in place and preserving its beauty in a singular moment.

On the nearshore, a bevy of squirrels chittered their arrival and then darted back into the brush when Thalia waved them onwards. "Have you ever ice skated, little sparrow?"

"I usually try during winter's fête with my sisters ... but I admit I shake like a leaf and always need to hold onto someone."

Thalia smiled and said, "Then it's good you have me. Come. We'll begin creating your instrument on that island, but first, some fun is in order."

Without breaking a stride, Thalia stepped onto the ice. A whistle sounded as they brought their foot down, and a shimmering opal light formed a bladed shoe for them. They turned and bowed as though beginning a waltz, and a second shoe formed.

Elodie bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

"You'll be safe with me, I promise."

Elodie believed them.

She took Thalia's hand and stepped onto the ice with half the grace and thrice the diffidence. Thalia gestured the butterflies down to the ice, and they surrounded Elodie's feet, taking shape into bladed shoes made of ice. Nervous laughter bubbled in Elodie's chest as she rose and spilled over onto Thalia. Nobody was more surprised than the fairy queen themself, that they laughed as well. It was a welcome sound in the open forest air.

Elodie's head was bobbed down, fixated on her feet. Thalia put two fingers under Elodie's chin, and gently prodded it up until they were looking eye-to-eye. Thalia's smile was so generous and so kind that Elodie's stomach lurched, and she thought Thalia might be the most lovely being she'd ever met.

"Look up, dear," Thalia encouraged, "There is so much to see, and you miss it all when you focus on what you're afraid of instead of what you're capable of." The two inched along the ice, with Elodie trembling along on gangly legs like a baby deer. Thalia's hands were warm, and their support unyielding as they coaxed Elodie out, out into the unknown.

A few feet behind them on the shore, Fen uncharacteristically stomped and whimpered, tongue out and tail wagging as he was left behind. Thalia called over Elodie's shoulder, "Fen, I do so command you to come with us. Leave that form behind and join us."

Both looked expectantly at Elodie, who wobbled but called over her shoulder, "I ... I don't command you, but ... if you'd also like to join us ... then ..."

Thalia's grip on Elodie tightened, bracing for impact. Fen was a blur of speed and cracking bones moving like wind. The force of his movement sent a shockwave through the air, and without Thalia's embrace, Elodie surely would have toppled over. He moved so quickly and so lightly across the ice that it never cracked or crumbled anywhere he stepped, even when Elodie knew he could if he wanted to.

When he finally slowed some, Elodie could see that what was moving past them was a tall, lithe man. His hair was a delicate silvery-gray color that matched the tepid lake surface beneath them. It was unkempt and ran down to the small of his back, disappearing into trails of mist as he moved. He dressed in a similar woven garb to Thalia, albeit in stone gray, brown, and cream colors. His skin was slightly scarred, and small patches of fur extended from his upper arms, disappearing into tendrils of mist around him.

Fen proudly announced that he "didn't need blades" and then dash off yet again. When he eventually paused his charge, he gave a toothy smile- a real smile- with little canine teeth extended just slightly past the edge of his lips.

Elodie was at first too shocked to speak. Then, all at once, she was shaken by a sense of irrational jubilee that creased her face into a wide grin. Why couldn't Fen be a man and canine both? And why couldn't they ice skate for a while? It was a realization, a dawning of the first kind for her, that oration made the world a little bit bigger. A little darker. A little freer.

A little more.

Thalia watched this transformation in Elodie, and their smile grew wider, too.

"Aren't we lucky?" they said, pulling Elodie further into the lake. One of their hands went to cup Elodie's cheek. Their palm was soft, and their nails threaded through some strands of Elodie's hair, tickling the edge of her ear. It was a profoundly intimate gesture, a moment shared by two beings that belonged solely to them. "Infinity at our whim."

They skated like that for a while, Elodie slipping and tripping even with Thalia's gentle guidance. Once, twice, Thalia would let go, push Elodie just to the edge of trying on her own. Only in those moments did Elodie feel the enormous fear and vastness of standing stalwart out on the lake—the fear of falling, of crashing and never resurfacing. Yet Thalia never let Elodie succumb to that fate.

After a time, Thalia waved Fen over, and Elodie was unbundled onto Fen's arm instead. Fen was much more lax in his grip and herded her to a rock, where they sat and watched in awe as Thalia took to the ice alone. The fairy queen dashed, danced, and trails of starlight sparked in lines behind them. Thalia's magenta eyes closed as they were lost in a reverie. Small illusory images rose from the ice, images of two people, one with horns and the other with butterflies, dancing and skating together. The illusions faded into the air as quickly as they arose and left an empty disappointment in the space after.

Elodie felt as though a single breath would be a terrible intrusion. Each dip and spin was elegant and beautiful in a way that Elodie could only describe with a single word later: captivating.