A moment later, they rounded a corner and the woods gave way to a huge clearing. A carpet of moss and tiny purple and white flowers was laid out before the trio, surrounding an orderly garden, which in turn surrounded a large cottage situated in the middle of the glade.

Silver took a step forward and sank into the moss, which released that same wonderful fragrance he’d smelled in Faerieland and remembered from Devon’s childhood yard.

The garden contained veggies and herbs and flowers and small fruit trees trained onto trellises. Silver saw greens and cucumbers and tomatoes and cabbage. He recognized potato plants and beets and radishes.

On the trees were apples and pomegranates and persimmons and plums, which Silver was pretty sure weren’t all supposed to be ripe at the same time, but there they were.

He wandered the paths between the garden beds, marveling at all of the plants he recognized and so many others that he didn’t.

“Careful,” said Fiona, behind him. “This section is all poisons.”

“I would never pick anything from someone else’s garden without asking anyway,” said Silver.

“Don’t breathe too deeply either,” she warned.

Silver made his way back toward the vegetables.

He spotted a wooden bench situated beneath a peach tree and between two lush white rose bushes and settled in to study the house. The bench’s seat cradled his body perfectly, its rounded back snuggling against his sides.

A tiny grey and black kitten jumped up onto his lap and looked up at him, its huge eyes and plaintiff mewl pleading for attention.

Silver laughed and stroked its soft fur. The kitten began to purr immediately, settling in and leaning against his belly.

As he scratched the kitten’s ears, Silver turned his attention back to the cottage.

He studied the quaint stone building as its wooden door opened and a woman strode out through it, stooping slightly to avoid hitting her head on the low jamb.

The woman was immediately recognizable as Rosza, older than she’d been in the visions, but still youthful and striking.

Silver had expected someone more dramatic – more like the girl he’d seen in the past, but aside from her beauty, she looked quite ordinary, dressed comfortably in straight-leg jeans and a loose-fitting yellow v-neck top. She wore a silver ring on her right hand and a simple silver necklace with a tear-shaped amethyst pendant. Her hair was cut short and was mostly still dark, but shot through with grey streaks here and there.

She strolled over to Fiona, beaming brightly, and wrapped her daughter in a welcoming hug.

Fiona was smiling too, a broad, radiant grin, and Silver realized that this was the first time she’d ever seen the half-Fae look genuinely happy.

Silver stood and approached the pair, stopping about five feet away to give them some space to finish their greeting.

Rosza stepped back and studied Silver, still maintaining her welcoming smile.

He stepped forward, extending a hand. “Hi. I’m Silver,” he said.

Fiona’s mother took his hand and squeezed it. “Welcome, stormsoother.” She had a heavy accent that made her sound wise and slightly sinister, an odd counterpart to her sunny appearance.

“Yes!” said Devon, who stood behind Silver. “I knew he was a soother!”

Rosza’s eyes twinkled as she dropped Silver’s hand and addressed Devon. “You’re a very perceptive boy, dear. Come in, all of you.” She turned back toward her home, waving them onward as she did so. “I just finished baking!”

Devon and Fiona followed eagerly, Silver trailing along, a little bit nonplussed. This was the great and powerful Rosza?

The cottage was very homey inside. The front door opened directly onto a large living room with a huge fireplace – unlit, Silver was disappointed to see – taking up most of one wall and a bay window with a lush, cushioned window seat taking up another wall.

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To the left was a wide doorway into a huge kitchen.

“If you wouldn’t mind taking off your shoes?” Rosza said. “And it looks like you boys ran into some weather at some point, hmm? I don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you, but I do have a couple of bathrobes you could put on while I throw your stuff in the washing machine.”

Without waiting for an answer, she bustled off down a hallway to the right, returning a moment later with two robes.

Silver took the one she held out to him. It was a deep, forest green color and incredibly soft.

“Go on,” said Rosza with a smile. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall and another one through the bedroom, first door on the right.” She pointed down the hall.

“Thank you,” said Silver. He walked down to the end of the hall, leaving the ensuite for Devon.

The bathroom turned out to be as homey as the living room, the wooden floor covered with layered rugs that Silver’s sock-clad feet sank into. There was a huge, clawfoot tub against one wall and plants hanging all around it. A double vanity faced the tub, also decorated with houseplants.

Silver sat down on a plush purple armchair next to the bathtub and peeled off his sodden socks one at a time. The rugs were incredibly soft against his bare feet as he stood and shed his jeans and boxer briefs. His t-shirt came off last and with relief, he wrapped himself in the cozy bathrobe.

It fell to his knees and he tied it securely around his waist.

Looking around for a toilet, Silver frowned. It was a bathroom, right? There had to be a commode. There were two narrow doors beside the vanity. The first led to a shallow closet lined with shelves and stocked with towels and more bathrobes.

Silver wondered why she had so many.

The second door, he was grateful to find, hid a small stall with a toilet in it.

He used the toilet, washed his hands, and gathered up his wet clothes.

Opening the door to the hallway, he could hear merry voices and laughter from the living room.

Silver made his way toward them.

As he entered the room, Rosza smiled at him and held out a laundry hamper, which already contained Devon’s clothing.

Silver added his and Rosza excused herself, opening a door that led to a staircase down. She headed into the basement, which must be where the laundry room was.

Devon handed Silver a streaming mug.

Silver held it up to his face and inhaled, enjoying the feel of the warm steam on his face. The liquid was fragrant, notes of fruit and spice wafting up into his nose. He sipped, careful not to take too much in and burn his tongue.

The tea was wonderful – he could taste plum and cardamom with a hint of ginger.

He sat down on a blue velvety ottoman, leaning against the matching chair behind it.

Fiona was seated on an off-white sofa opposite him and Devon sat down beside her. He wore a robe identical to Silver’s, except that it was black.

“So,” said Devon. “Since we can’t go anywhere until tomorrow, we should strategize.”

Silver set his mug on an end table beside him. “I have a question.”

“Only one?” said Fiona. But her usual sarcastic tone was gone, replaced by good humor and a relaxed air.

Silver wondered if he’d misjudged her; she seemed like a completely different person in her mother’s home – or was it also her home? He realized suddenly that it had actually only been a couple of hours since he’d met her. Only a couple of hours since he’d learned that Faerieland was real, the Fae existed, and that he was possessed of magical powers.

It had been a dense time, a time that should have spanned weeks, if not months. And it had only been a couple of hours.

“Hello?” said Fiona, a trace of that sardonic quality back in her voice. “Earth to Silver!”

He chuckled. “Earth. Yes. Very funny.” He turned to Devon. “You said that Dusvlaine’s original plan was to get the humans to worship the Fae. So, why would he now be cutting off the connection between the two dimensions?”

“He probably wants to make sure humans only worship the Fae he wants them to worship,” said Fiona. “I never knew my father, obviously, but my understanding is that he’s somewhat selfish and controlling.”

“Somewhat, yes,” said Rosza’s voice, dryly.

Silver turned to look at her, an uncertain apology on his lips. He was in uncharted territory – again. Discussing someone’s ex was always a sticky situation, but what did you say when that ex was a traitor to his people, was currently plotting something horrible and needed to be stopped, and to top it all off was also the father of the person’s grown daughter, who was also in the room?

Rosza seemed to sense his discomfort and pointed one of her trademark sunny smiles in his direction. “Don’t worry about sparing my feelings; I’ve come to terms with Dusvlaine’s sheer, unadulterated awfulness years ago. Thank goodness for therapy.”

She sat down on the window seat, leaning against the side wall and tucking her legs up underneath herself.

Silver found himself smiling back. “Therapy is wonderful, isn’t it? It’s really helped me cope with my oversensitivity.”

Rosza tilted her head. “I hope you haven’t suppressed that sensitivity altogether. It’ll help you once you begin training to use your soothing powers.”

“Do you think you could teach me?” Silver asked eagerly.

She laughed. “Unfortunately, your powers are sort of the opposite of mine. You’ll need to find a stormsoother to teach you, and you’ll probably want to find one in your own neck of the woods, once we’ve dealt with this whole separation-of-the-worlds situation.”

“What exactly will happen if the link is severed?” Silver asked.

“The same thing that happened before,” said Fiona. “And the world is so close now to recovering from that disaster.”