The island in the center of the lake was large enough that you wouldn't be able to see someone standing on one side of it from the other end, but also small enough that walking to meet that other person would only take a few minutes at most. It had clearly been the focus of Thalia's fascination at some point as it had small cobbled pathways put together, but it had also clearly fallen out of their favor as the cobbles were overgrown with pernicious weeds.

"We saw stones like that. When we were coming into the forest," Elodie commented. Once they had skated until their limbs were tired and their laughter had run out, Thalia had brought Elodie to a small circle of standing stones with the same small holes in the center of them. Fen gathered sticks and dutifully brought them to Thalia, who set the pile ablaze with their magic. Elodie was grateful for the warmth.

"Which stones?" Elodie pointed to the standing stones of various heights, and Thalia swiveled. "Ah. Those are menhir- standing stones. They have a soothing aura, good for recovery."

Elodie supposed it made sense then that Fen had stopped by them when he was injured but said nothing as she held her hands closer to the fire to warm them up.

Absentmindedly, Thalia grabbed two, three more butterflies out of the air and said, "A place to sit, if you please." Then they pulled the butterfly's wings apart, stretching them flat into chairs with plush pillows and small tables with papers and quills. Elodie was again charmed by the ease with which Thalia used magic. It all seemed so natural when they did it. She longed for effortlessness. The papers and quill were offered to Elodie, who took them although she wasn't sure what she'd be writing down.

"Now, I'd like to discuss matters with you, Elodie. First, that of Fen, as I think he's waited patiently long enough-"

Fen had his arms crossed as he threw himself in one of the chairs with a grunt but looked away for the time being.

"-And then maybe some lunch, and then we'll discuss instrumentation." Elodie nodded as a student to their better, and Thalia continued, "Now the law of favors is not so easily amended." They rapped their knuckles against their chin. "What do you suggest, Elodie?"

There was a long pause. Elodie looked owlishly between the two. "Me?"

"Who else would I be speaking to, dear?"

"I haven't heard of the law of favors before," Elodie mumbled.

"Speak up, snow pea, you're mumbling."

"I haven't heard of the law of favors beyond what you've told me," Elodie repeated, enunciating each of her words just a shade louder. "I don't know what we're deciding."

Fen said, "I owe you a debt under the law of favors. But I also owe ... Thalia a bond as well." A look was shared between them as he said the name Thalia like it didn't quite fit right in his mouth, and he was trying to swallow it.

"Can't I just say it's fine?" Elodie questioned. "I don't need any favors."

Fen's hackles suddenly raised, and he bared pointed teeth at her. "You would insult me?"

"Now, now," Thalia's honeyed voice called over the conversation. "Put away your claws, Fen- and Elodie? Apologize."

Elodie's eyebrow raised, but out of a trained politeness, she said, "I'm ... sorry, Fen?"

Fen's tail flicked in annoyance, but he closed his lips and pressed away his snarl. In his stead, Thalia explained, "You're owed a favor from him of equal value. Since you gave him freedom and healed him, he is bound to do the same for you. Disregarding that would be like saying his favor- his very being and willingness to help you- is worthless."

Elodie gasped and put both hands over her mouth, fingertips barely pressing into her lips. "Oh, please do accept my apology," she now pleaded, "I didn't mean that at all."

Fen made a noncommittal noise again in response. Between the flickers of fairy light, he seemed very beastlike indeed, his form shifting and ebbing with indecision.

"So we are deciding which favor takes precedence. Yours," Thalia commented, eyes filled with mirthful embers, "Or mine."

Elodie bit her lip in thought. "Well ... what was your favor to him?" When neither of them said anything, Elodie pressed again. "If I knew what the favor owed between you two was, I would better be able to decide precedence."

The smoke coming from the fire was translucent, but Elodie saw Thalia's form wavering as evidence it was there. The fairy queen was much like a mirage at that moment, quavering between two expressions: one of gaiety and one of sorrow. "It's so long ago, I hardly remember." Their eyes slid to Fen, waiting. Fen said nothing. Thalia looked back at Elodie. "And it seems Fen doesn't either."

Elodie's eyebrows knit in doubt. Fen had said last night it had something to do with thanking Thalia at some point. Why was he lying now?

"Well, I would feel awkward inserting myself into a bond that long-lasting," Elodie tried, "In this case, I think you should take precedence."

Thalia tilted their head in that oh-so-slightly way that made their curls sway just a little. "In the same token, we've been bonded so long it seems unfair to keep him. So the length of time is not a deciding factor." There was something mischievous in their eyes, the same look they'd worn when Elodie had first met them. "I could consider his debt repaid. It would be good for a new orator to have a familiar to look out for them, and not many could boast one so capable as a gelert."

Fen's eyes went wide, and then he quickly looked askance. Elodie took that as a sign to press further.

"Then let's do that."

"But then my favor would rest incomplete."

Elodie found her teeth gritting slightly behind her lips. She tried a different angle. "So ... what would happen in that case?" She didn't see how this was any different from her suggestion of annulling the law's requirements, but she stepped further into their madness with them.

"You would have to pay it instead, I suppose. We could work out an arrangement wherein you stay in the forest a little longer and teach me a bit about what's happening outside the glade. Fen would be bonded to you and only you, and would go with you to your little stone house. Then all's well and satisfied, I should think."

Elodie's head spun, thinking of how she would explain that to the stewards back at the castle. "Hi, sorry I ran off," she'd say, "I'm back, and I brought a magical dog that's bonded to me." Elodie smiled softly at the mental image of Ann chiding her for bringing home a stray pet, just like Simona. But then, Fen was much more than a dog or a pet, so perhaps Ann would make an exception.

Thalia's frown deepened. Instead of speaking to Elodie, they turned to Fen and said, "Your thoughts?"

What is their aim, rumbled the voice in Elodie's head. What's the catch?

Fen didn't speak for a moment. Parts of his jacket and tail dissipated and reformed. His canines jutted out of his mouth and seemed to grow larger, and his hair vibrated with what Elodie interpreted as a tense longing.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"No," he finally said. "I haven't fulfilled my original promise."

"And I'm saying you have," Thalia responded placidly. She could picture a crackle of lightning in the air between them, something unseen by Elodie's eyes. She sighed, as fey politeness seemed a wearisome task to her.

"Fine," he grunted, the gruff sound in his voice at odds with the anticipation in his limbs. One of his knees went to the ground in a crouch, and the air around him pushed aside the snow and ice.

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"With your permission," he barked, putting his hand on the ground before him.

Thalia assessed the two of them. Fen pensive, Elodie obedient. They seemed to want to draw the moment out longer, lingering in the silence and tasting it like a fine wine. It grew uncomfortable. Elodie's stomach churned.

"Alright, alright." They waved their hand as if to shoo away the bad air. A power swelled in their voice. "I declare that Elodie's debt should take precedence. Let them be bound in ivy and hawthorn."

No blaring sound or magical apparition indicated that resolution had arrived. What did happen was a relief of tension, like a cord snapping after being stretched for too long, giving way under pressure. Fen's flesh and clothes faded into thick, white fur strands, which pulled taut in a circle around them both. She saw now that he was neither dog nor man, but some kind of third elemental sprite made of air and mist and morning chill.

Elodie looked on in awe, even as he let go of that form and transformed back into a canine, magic mixing with snow.Fen padded to Elodie and pressed his head into her hand, sitting beside her with his tail in wisps of smoke and air around her. She smiled, despite herself, from how it tickled her skin.

Keen to interrupt, Thalia clapped their hands together and said, "I'm starved."

The two of them conjured up a merry feast to celebrate, with Thalia leading the effort and Elodie clumsily copying as best she could. Once, she and her muse had a bickering spat about a flavoring choice, resulting in a conjured cake that looked unassuming but exploded into colorful powders when Thalia bit into it. Rather than lash out in anger, Thalia burbled with their bell-like laugh at the whole affair. Despite her sheepishness, Elodie laughed too.

It was still a heady feeling to orate continuously, both energizing and draining. It was like emptying a heavy sack: pouring herself out and feeling unburdened by the encumbrance but simultaneously unbalanced by the weight loss. In between orations, they babbled about the forest, their time skating, and the warmth of the fire. Elodie's mind drifted to the castle briefly, but Thalia brought her attention back to the islet with stories of spring and fanciful tales of creatures called "mammoths." Birds came to listen on the branches; small spirits poked out of the grass in awe.

Conversation flowed as it would between old friends, both eager to learn but patient to inquire. She learned that Thalia had lived in these woods with Fen for the better part of a century, possibly longer, but Thalia refused to put a number on it. Thalia learned that Elodie liked to bake quite a bit (although she was terrible at it), and had a fondness for fairy tales.

Talking to Thalia was far easier than talking to courtiers. They had the same charismatic ease that Nadya and Prince Braum possessed, the kind that eluded her completely. Any time her mind would go blank with insecurity, Thalia would launch into a long tale that allowed Elodie respite. Simultaneously, Elodie was an excellent listener, and Thalia absorbed the attention they desperately sought. Fen remained quiet and once departed to chase some hares that ventured onto the island to get a glimpse of Thalia.

The lunch lasted much longer than intended and only ended when Elodie said, "Should we begin making an instrument? Before it gets much later."

"Oh!" Thalia exclaimed, "Yes, yes. Do you know what- I'd nearly forgotten."

Elodie smiled sheepishly and sat straighter in her seat.

By now, the snow had stopped falling, and the lake shone in beams of light from the afternoon sun. It was still cold, but not unbearably so, and the fire was plenty enough to keep the chill away. "What would you like me to do?" Elodie was picturing some chant or maybe a secret ritual.

Thalia reached up to one of the aspen trees behind them, which leaned its branches lower towards Thalia's fingers. With a decisive snap, they plucked a branch and held it between them and Elodie. Thalia gave Elodie a cheeky look, and their gaze became pinned to the branch.

"Become an apple," Thalia ordered the branch, and it did, taking a bulbous shape in their hand.

"Now a stone." It did again.

"Now a feather." The stone became light and delicate between their fingers, a downy feather made of wisps.

They looked at Elodie between the barbs and said, "Oration allows us to bend the world, transform it little by little. But orations pass through objects the same way words pass through ears. This feather is not thinking about being an apple or a branch. The command has moved through it already. It holds nothing. It has nothing to do with the mind, either. Even if I made this a turtle or even a person, it wouldn't think about being an apple.

Instrumentation is orating in a way so focused and so exhaustively that an object begins to hold the shape of your words. Think of a favorite line in a book or something your grandmother used to say. Words can impact their listener if they come at the right time, if they resonate, or," Thalia smirked. "If they're repeated enough times. It sounds very lofty, hm? I can tell I'm losing you."

Thalia lifted the feather and expanded it into a stone goblet with a swishing wine-dark liquid within. "Instrumentation is like creating a cup for your oration that can hold your excess magic and pour it out when needed. But a cup can only work effectively if it's shaped correctly."

They flattened the top of the cup so the dish was open and sloped downwards. The liquid began to dribble out of the side. "Magic from oration is much the same. It's just a matter of shaping. If an object knows you so intimately and precisely that your words affect it, you begin to carve out a space in it, and it begins to make space for you." Thalia leaned back on their chair and turned the cup back into a branch, which they then handed to a cluster of butterflies for removal.

Elodie soaked in the words, then plodded forward with the grace of a newborn deer. "So ... I find a branch and talk to it for a long time until it knows me?"

Thalia laughed their bell-like laugh. "That is the gist of it. You can't just blather nothing at it, though. You need the object to understand you- really understand you."

"And then what?"

Thalia's mouth twitched. "You've been an orator for how long? Maybe a few weeks?"

Elodie nodded.

"And has your muse told you what happens if you don't orate?"

Elodie was quiet, pinching the edge of her skirt between her fingers. "I've seen it."

That didn't seem to surprise Thalia. "Then you know how dangerous it can be. We can't always be orating, though. We need sleep, for one. Quiet, for another. Instruments help us siphon away a little bit of that power. In turn, if we ever exhaust ourselves, we can dip into that little pocket and take some just the same." Thalia gave Elodie a sharp look. "Don't get any funny ideas, either. Instruments only work for the orator who created them."

"Instruments?" Elodie prodded, "As in, you can make more than one?"

"It's possible. You should begin with just the one, though. It will take much from you to do the one."

"And any object will do?"

"Hm. You know I've never thought to experiment. I've at least found that things from the natural world take to shaping much better than their more crude counterparts. Wood is a much better listener than steel." They seemed genuinely curious about the question and continued, "I've never thought to try on something with a mind, but I imagine thoughts of survival and boredom would get in the way."

"So I should choose a plant?"

"Ahh, you can't ask me that," Thalia tutted, "I can't begin to suggest. I can only say to look around and see what resonates with you. Listen to the world around you, and think what might best listen to you."

Elodie stood up from the chair and gave a respectful half-bow. She almost thanked Thalia for the lesson but remembered Fen's earlier warning. Instead, she said, "You've been very kind to tell me all this." She couldn't hide the eagerness in her voice. "I should like to know where I can begin my search in the forest."

"Probably with a soft pillow and some tea," Thalia said with a laugh. "Look around, dear. The day's left us, and the night is coming soon. You can't expect me to allow you to tromp around the forest in the dark. What kind of host would I be?"

Elodie turned herself and was perplexed to find the words true. The air had grown more frigid, and the sky was a mottled orange and pink as the sun set low. Elodie looked at the food they had just been eating and found it was crusted, the bread hard, and the sauces dried.

"My apologies," she said half-heartedly, "I ... didn't realize the time."

"No, no," Thalia rebutted. "It's my fault. I told you, I'm a warbler. I can blather about anything at all, and I've completely wasted your day on frivolity and conversation."

"I indulged you then," Elodie whispered conspiratorially. She liked Thalia and didn't think the day had been wasted. Even if they hadn't been able to begin the process immediately, Elodie had learned a great deal quickly, or so she thought.

Elodie, her muse, needled. They are tarrying, delaying the departure. You must see it.

Nonsense, Elodie thought back, though some doubt hung in her mind. She really didn't think it had been more than a few hours in the woods.

"Tomorrow, we'll begin at once," Thalia announced, "We'll have breakfast again, and then bright and early, you'll go into the woods and find an object to begin your instrumentation on. Fen can go with you as a guide to keep you out of the more ... unsavory parts of the woods." They stood up, and with a wave of their hand, the butterflies descended on the food and the fire. The objects dissipated with each touch of their wings, fading away to join the cool night air.

See, Elodie thought. Out loud, she said, "Thalia, that sounds lovely."

We shall see, indeed.