“How do you know?”
“It’s taken most of my strength to keep them out of this room.”
“Why did you think I was in league with them, then?” Mouse snapped.
The Faerie woman’s chin lifted. “My magic is not as strong as it once was. You try keeping a house from falling apart for two hundred years and see how well you fare.”
It occurred to Mouse that the woman’s voice was familiar, and it took her a moment to place it.
We must not look at goblin men.
Mouse gasped. “You’re the one who’s been speaking to me the last month! Were you the force that Thornwood kept bumping into as he repaired the Hall?”
The Faerie woman’s eyes widened, and an accusing hand rose between them. “You are the one who destroyed my dragon!”
Twinkling lights formed in her palm. Her humanity lifted like a veil, and Mouse did not know where to move as the Faerie’s face grew vicious and sharp.
“Do you know how long it took to construct that magic?” theFaerie woman hissed. The sparkling lights crystallized into wasps, their wings flapping frantically. The smell of fruit deepened, and Mouse could detect the faintest hint of rot.
Mouse threw her hands up, one at her eyes and the other at her heart. “We didn’t destroy it! I swear.”
“You swear?” The Faerie woman sneered. “All mortals swear and eat it.”
The fizz in the air burst into actual electricity. Stray wasps broke free of the Faerie’s hand. They circled, touching plants as they moved, and the vines twisted to caress the magic.
“The dragon is in the vicarage at the edge of the forest. The creature caught fire when we escaped. I do not pretend to understand magic, but it shrank as it burned.”
“You expect me to believe a vicar is harboring a small dragon?”
Mouse continued, “No, it transformed into a dog. She is called Smudge.”
The Faerie woman rasped, “Smudge?”
“Yes,” Mouse said, biding her time while searching for her next move.
In her experience with magic, there was no way she could outrun the wasps or whatever this Faerie woman would throw at her. The Faerie’s hand dipped, and Mouse closed her eyes. She focused on her breath, ready for the sting.
She had dealt with worse over the last month, she told herself. And before that, she was in the war. She could handle the stinger of an enchanted bug.
The sting did not come. Instead, a sound Mouse could only describe as the squeaky wheeze of an injured rabbit began, growing louder and more hysterical by the second.
Finally, Mouse cracked open her eyes to find the Faerie with herhead thrown backward, her mouth open, and her teeth displayed. It took Mouse a moment to register that the sound was coming from her and even longer to realize it was laughter.
The wasps burst like bubbles, leaving little rings of shimmering magic in their wake. The Faerie woman wiped her eyes.
“Truly, mortals never cease to amaze me,” she said between peals of horrifying giggles. “You named my most prized magical feat after a streak of ash.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Mouse said weakly.
“Tragically for the poor beast, I am sure it did.” The Faerie collected herself. A few of her curls had escaped their pins, framing her face. “You may call me Viola, like the heroine from the play.”
The name and the face clicked into place in Mouse’s mind. “You are the Faerie King’s daughter.”
“I was,” Viola said archly.
“This is wonderful,” Mouse said. Elation bubbled within her, tumbling out in a flow of blurred words. “Your father is here. He thinks you’re dead, but as soon as he sees you, he can call this madness off.”
She marched to the entrance to the Hall.