The contraption in front of them flashed, leaving a puff of smoke with a sharp odour. The journalist emerged from behind the odd machinery.

"I appreciate you giving me some of your time" thanked the journalist, caressing the upward-facing tip of his big moustache. "The other fairies haven't been as forthcoming as you."

Clelia and Damian stood side by side, holding each other's hands in a way that reminded Clelia of some wedding portraits she had seen before.

"So, if I understood you correctly," Clelia tried to summarise, "that thing you just did with that machine will produce something similar to a portrait of the two of us? And you intend to use it for an article on fairies in human high society?"

"Oh yes. Absolute marvel of Alchemy and engineering, the iconograph," gushed the man, still minding his moustache. "My prediction is that, in a decade or two, these machines will have completely made artists obsolete. They just need a few improvements."

Clelia furrowed her brows. "Wouldn't that be pretty sad?"

The journalist shrugged. "It's progress, you know?"

A floaty, distinguished voice approached them. "Mr Giachin is right. I wouldn't expect a fairy to know, given how conservative fairy society is, but progress really is unstoppable."

The man approaching was very different from the other people present in the hall: instead of the same kind of dark suit that the other men had, he was wearing what looked like a blue and white uniform, completed by a white cloak with golden embroideries of strange geometric symbols, topped by a large brimmed hat. He had an ebony walking cane with an ivory handle encrusted with jewels. His dark long beard and bushy eyebrows were streaked with elegant silvery strands.

Damian bowed politely and Clelia almost followed him suit, then remembered to curtsy instead. The men acknowledged their bows with a slight nod.

"So," the man started, "What did you think of the opera? Was this your first time seeing one?"

"Yes, it was my first time," Clelia adjusted her glasses. "I found the music astounding, to say the least. I'm not used to this kind of storytelling. May I ask to whom I have the honour to be speaking to?"

Damian cleared his throat. "My dear, we're in the presence of one of the most important men in Taurasia. He's the Duke Carlo Adelasio of House Rivoira, cousin of our King Alberto Camillo, and Archwizard of the Alexandrine Tower. It is an honour to be speaking with you, my Lord."

"It is my pleasure, really," the man responded amiably. "After all, it's not every day one gets to meet with what is essentially fairy royalty."

"I'm afraid I need to correct you," Clelia asserted, "we fairies have no such thing as royalty: none of our noble families has authority over the others."

The Duke nodded. "Indeed that's what I heard. Yet, at the same time, not all noble clans of your kind hold the same level of prestige and influence. Two bloodlines, in particular, seem to be particularly respected and revered: the Apodia gens and, of course, the Arania gens. The latter managed to spawn the one most infamous name of all faerie kind: Lausenna the fay, sometimes known as the 'Looming Fate'. And, relevantly for our conversation, your mother. Fairies may not have a monarch, but the sheer authority of your name is definitely comparable to what we humans understand as royalty."

"Your knowledge of our nobility is superior than most humans I met, my Lord."

He chuckled. "I'd be surprised if my knowledge of your kind was inferior to that of any other human you met. Wizards, such as myself, spend a lot of time studying ethereal beings, their customs, and, where applicable, their history. It is, after all, one of the sources of our power."

Clelia's mind immediately went to Madame Guillardine. "Does that mean that you spent some time among our kind?"

"What?" He waved his hand, dismissively. "Oh, of course not. Even if I wanted to, no noble fairy would have allowed a human male in their court for prolonged periods of time."

Clelia nodded. That was absolutely true, she couldn't picture any of the matriarchs trusting a man to become a guest in her home indefinitely. A witch maybe, but an adult human male? No conceivable way. The young fairy smirked with the knowledge that, after all, she had actually met at least one human who probably understood faerie kind much better than this Duke.

"But I don't need to live among your kind to understand you anymore than I need to live in Hell to understand demons," the wizard continued. "For instance, my opening question wasn't an educated guess: I know for a fact that fairy music isn't as sophisticated as what you witnessed this evening, so I knew you probably never saw opera."

Clelia crossed her arms with a hint of irritation. "True, our ensembles aren't as big as the orchestra I saw tonight, but the acting and scenography were, how should I put it? Quaintly crude. I wouldn't have brought it up, I understand that magic doesn't come as natural to humans as it does to us, but, as long as we're making comparisons, we are capable of putting on a much more believable show on stage. We don't need to use a red handkerchief to simulate blood after being 'wounded' by a prop knife, we could create a vivid illusion of someone being stabbed and bleeding to death with minimal effort."

The man clicked his tongue and gave a knowing smile to Damian. "See what I mean? I'm afraid you really are married to fairy royalty. A human wife is already a handful as is, hope you're ready to handle it."

Damian laughed nervously. "Of course, my Lord."

"Incidentally, my boy, may I ask you something unrelated?"

"By all means."

The Duke stroked his beard and followed the well cured curve of his moustache. "I cannot hide that I find your family, your older brother in particular, quite interesting. Of course, I did some digging into all of you and I stumbled upon your own academic results and achievements. You even won a prize for an essay you wrote on the impact of industrialisation over modern academic disciplines, though I wasn't able to find the time to actually read it. Seeing that you decided to pursue further your academic inclination, I thought I might see your name among new students at my own faculty of Wizardry and, well, imagine my surprise when I discovered that you're studying Alchemy instead. May I inquire about the reasons behind your choice? Were you perchance too distracted by the preparations for your wedding to perform well in our entrance exam? If that's the case, I can easily pull some strings."

The boy bowed. "As grateful as I am for your extraordinarily generous offer, I…"

Damian's head lurched forwards after being smacked by a big hand from behind. The full, elegant voice of his older brother Vaufrej interrupted him. "Pardon me for intruding, my Lord. If a man of your stature is interested in talking business with my family, it would perhaps be more productive to discuss with myself, the acting head of the family, rather than my enthusiastic and idealistic younger brother."

Vaufrej addressed a brief but eloquently cold glance to Damian as he was opening his mouth to say something, making him remain silent. Clelia was about to speak on his behalf, but she felt her husband's arm pulling her back, in a silent plea for her to stay quiet.

"Vaufrej Neuman," the Duke pronounced. "Your family name isn't Tallian, correct? Your grandfather was from New Helvia, if I'm not mistaken."

"My Lord is well informed, as expected," flattered Vaufrej. "What would you think of continuing our conversation more privately? They're serving some excellent vintage, Brambolo '76, over there."

"It would be my pleasure."

As soon as the wizard had finished his response, Vaufrej discreetly gestured Damian to take his leave. Before Clelia had a chance to reply, her husband pulled her away by her arm.

Once they were out of earshot, Clelia protested, "You should have let me say something. It's not right for him to treat you like that!"

He gestured her to calm down, sighing heavily. "It's alright. Talking back to him would have been counterproductive anyway. Besides, imagine how pathetic I would have appeared if I needed to be defended by you, instead of doing it on my own."

She furrowed her brows. "Why? It's clear that your brother has authority over you, but that's not the same for me."

He shook his head. "Trust me, it's better if we don't mess with him. He wouldn't listen to me and I don't think he would listen to you either. Let him do his thing. Besides, you didn't seem particularly enthused by our conversation with the Duke."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She fiddled with the bridge of her glasses. "Well, he was being rather judgemental."

"See? Vaufrej gave us a good excuse to get out of there without making a fuss. Let's just try to survive this evening until it's time to go home."

He barely had time to finish his sentence before aunt Lucia waved at them, gesturing to join her and the group surrounding her. Clelia noticed that, among them, was one of the fairies they had spotted while entering the theatre. This other fairy had a yellow dress with white lace. The heptagonal motifs on the lace and on her pointy hat allowed Clelia to identify her as a member of the Apodia gens. She was taller and more mature than Clelia, her hair made in an elaborate, soft sculpture of lucid brown that stylishly framed her delicate features. Her eyes were of a mesmerising deep blue. When the other fairy's gaze met with Clelia, her expression immediately turned sour. Why did it have to be someone from the Apodia gens? Even the gens Saturna would have been preferable.

Aside from aunt Lucia and the fairy, the group included Marianna and two other women, one of whom accompanied by a man who presumably was her husband.

"Clelia dear!" Chirped aunt Lucia. "Would you look at this? I managed to meet another fairy like you."

The young woman from the Apodia gens hid any disdain she may have had behind a mask of polite coldness. "My pleasure. I'm Beatrice from the Apodia gens, though these days I go by the name of my human husband."

So she said, but it didn't escape Clelia's attention that Beatrice did not so much as mention what her husband's name was. Beatrice's name wasn't new to her: though she had never met the Apodia gens in person, her tutor had made sure that she'd know as much as possible about the other noble fairy families, and she presumed that the same held true for Beatrice too.

Clelia bowed her head. "I'm Clelia Neumann. I was from the Arania gens. Nice to make your acquaintance."

"Tell me, Clelia," Beatrice dragged out Clelia's name, "how are you adapting to life among humans?"

Caressing the temples of her glasses, she responded, "It may be a little early to say, but so far it's going well. I have to admit, I didn't imagine that I'd meet the youngest of the Apodia sisters tonight."

The other fairy opened in a wide smile. "So you know who I am. I do apologise, but your mother had so many daughters that I can't truthfully tell you I remember where you fall, within her line."

"That's fine, I don't mind. How long have you been married?"

She sighed in response. "It will be two years very soon. As… quaint as the city of Taurasia is, I cannot hide that, at times, I miss my old home. These last six to eight months have seriously been difficult to live through." She turned to face aunt Lucia. "You're lucky, dear Lucia, that you live in the countryside: the riots that plagued the city since the turn of the year have been really disruptive for people who just want to live their lives in peace."

The other women in the group nodded solemnly. The only other young man, aside from Damian, voiced their thoughts, "An absolutely dreadful affair. I'm ashamed to say that the youth of our generation is growing more and more pampered, making us lose sight of the values that our beautiful country was founded on."

Although the subject had been touched upon during the tea party the day prior, Clelia had to admit that she was still curious about them.

Marianna toyed with one of her beautiful, dark locks. "If I may ask, Beatrice and Clelia, do you fairies have to deal with riots too?"

Clelia shook her head, but Beatrice was the first one to respond. "Are you joking? First of all, our servitude has nothing to complain about: in exchange for their service, our families protect them from other, more dangerous faerie and allow them to exist in the prosperity of our homes, instead of the inhospitable wilderness. They eat our same food, drink our same water, partake in the same festivities. If they do have grievances, they are allowed to petition our matriarchs about them."

Damian tilted his head. "What if they're not satisfied with the response they get?"

Beatrice shrugged. "For starters, they wouldn't resort to violence."

Marianna gracefully covered her mouth as she giggled. "How wonderful. Whatever system you have in place, it must be very effective, especially with the fame that the lesser faerie have for being chaotic and uncontrollable."

The other fairy placed her hands on her hips. "That fame is not as deserved as you may think. We don't even have to go and look for lesser faerie to become part of our servitude, they come to us of their own will, specifically because they know that, despite our magical might, we won't use that strength to hurt them, but to protect them. And, for the most part, they reciprocate the favour quite well. They're free to leave, if they so choose, but they rarely do."

"Is this why we have those three lutin around our house?" Damian inquired.

Clelia nodded. "Yes, I have an agreement of a similar nature with them."

Beatrice sighed again. "You're lucky you live out of town. There are faerie in the city too, but they're… different. I tried approaching a water dwarf by the river, once, happy to see other faerie for the first time in months, and he very rudely told me off. I just wanted to have a talk."

Aunt Lucia said, "My, if what you're saying is true, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, then it sounds like the faerie in your land understand the values of gratitude and hard work better than some humans we know. But, say, if by hypothesis you matriarch had to deal with something like this year's riots, what do you think she would do?"

Beatrice pondered for a moment before answering. "I suppose my mother would just use her magic to banish the offenders from our castle forever. Even if they were to try violence against us, I think responding in kind should only be reserved as a last resort. What about your mother, Clelia?"

Clelia's head drooped. "I… I'm pretty sure my mother wouldn't be violent per se, but I doubt she'd stop at just banishing them. For how I know her, she'd bestow horrible curses on the offenders, to make examples out of them."

The fairy in yellow raised a brow. "You don't seem too happy about that."

Once more, Clelia had to chase away the memory of iridescent dragonfly wings.

"If I can be honest," Clelia caressed the frame of her glasses, "I think that that would be disproportionate punishment. If a wolf pup bites his mother with all his strength, the mother won't then bite back with all of hers, or she would kill him. The stronger, wiser, more powerful party should exercise restraint, in a case such as that, and hold back on their strength."

Beatrice clapped her hands. "I have to give it to you, I wasn't expecting I'd agree with a daughter of the Arania gens so easily, but here we are."

"How noble, it seems that fairies really are something special," commented aunt Lucia. "But the power dynamic between people like me, my brother, Beatrice's husband, and the masses who revolt against us isn't the same as the one between fairy matriarchs and the lesser faerie at their service. If we let them bite us, they won't merely innocently draw blood like an overenthusiastic wolf pup playing with his mother, they may cause some real harm to us. I think we should be allowed to have appropriate retaliatory policies, such as that it would help us prevent them from biting us in the first place."

Clelia shivered, Beatrice nodded. The latter responded, "If I hadn't been in town during the riots, I may not be able to understand where you're coming from, but I do. How do you suppose we can help prevent something like that in the future?"

The smile that appeared on aunt Lucia's lips reminded Clelia of a cat who has successfully predicted the hole from which the mice will come out next. "Why, funny you should say that, my dear, because that's something I would have loved to be able to discuss with you and your husband. In our current time, because of journalists and the cini system, the spread of information has become a lot faster and easier, which has made it so that politics isn't just made through policy, but through information as well. I think we would need some kind of big story, something that the high society can rally behind, maintaining at the same time the favour of the masses. Some kind of big event that, if told properly, could make everyone, both the humble worker and the lofty aristocrats, understand where our society stands on the issue."

"I'm not sure I follow," Beatrice shook her head, "what kind of event are we talking about?"

"I'm thinking of a trial," stated aunt Lucia with a glint in her grey eyes. "A trial under the magnifying glass of the press, one where the right and wrong side are both very clearly portrayed, so that everyone can see them for what they are. It would be a story and, as such, it would have twists and turns to keep everyone invested. Then, once it reaches its proper, natural end, a message would be sent, a message capable of cooling down the hot heads in our kingdom."

"I'm assuming you already have a story like that on your hands?"

"Indeed, my dear. And, though your husband isn't with us at this time, I'm sure that he, as the editor in chief of Vita Taurasiana, would love to have some exclusive information before every one of his competitors."

Beatrice nodded. "I'm sure he would. I wouldn't mind putting you in contact with him, so that he can asses by himself if your story is something he'd like to cover. Can you give me some details?"

Aunt Lucia smiled again. "I can only tell you that it starts with a problematic youth stealing from her guardians, but that's just the beginning. It gets a lot juicier than that."

As if the icy hands of the spirits of winter had grabbed Clelia by the back of her neck, a shiver shook her body. She had a feeling she didn't want aunt Lucia to say anything more on the subject.

"A problematic youth," the tall woman continued, "who has been generously fed, and sheltered, and raised as part of the family, and, to repay her benefactors, not only steals from them and everyone around them, not only throws mud on their reputation with her vulgarity, but takes advantage of sympathetic discourse over the plight of the worker to shirk her due punishment."

There was no way. No way, right? Aunt Lucia wasn't talking about the same person that Clelia was thinking, right?

Marianna intervened. "I am a witness too. I was there, when they finally put that scrawny good-for-nothing in cuffs. I know all she has done."

The beautiful girl turned to face Damian, who had been listening intently to the whole conversation and now, looking at him, he seemed just as concerned as Clelia.

"You actually knew her too, you know?" Stated Marianna. "She was among the servants who played with you when Vaufrej excluded you, when we were little."

Damian quickly grabbed Clelia by the arm with unexpected strength. "I'm afraid my wife and I have to go: I saw my brother calling to us. We will resume this conversation at another time."

He didn't wait for pleasantries to be exchanged, he just dragged Clelia away.

"Hey! What gives? Why are we running away like this?" She protested.

He didn't respond until they were out of the hall. Then, he finally let her go.

"Clelia, I have to ask you something. Do you know Rosalba, the childhood friend of mine they intend to frame?"

"Yes, but…"

"I apologise for dragging you away like that, but I could see that you were about to do something we'd regret."

"What do you mean?"

He pointed at her hand and, when she looked down, she realised she had summoned her wand. She knew then that, had he not acted the way he did, she definitely would have done something she'd regret.