Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun shone bright over the land of Tamir. Rosella hoped it was a good omen.

She had found the fruit that would save her father's life. She'd kept it safe, wrapped in a handkerchief in her pocket, reaching a hand in to touch it every so often, just to make sure it was still there. It always felt slightly cool to the touch; she imagined it would taste incredibly refreshing. Her only fear, now, was that she wouldn't be in time.

Her father needed her. She had to get home.

Genesta, with her talisman returned, had been eager to feel the sun on her skin—as if to demonstrate the fulness of her recovery, she'd teleported herself and Rosella onto the beach. A few of Genesta's small fairy attendants fluttered nearby, shedding glimmering fairy dust as they floated about.

Rosella looked out over the sea, back towards the mainland. She thought, briefly, about Edgar. She'd killed his mother—even if she hadn't truly intended to, that didn't change the fact that Lolotte was dead by her actions. Yet Lolotte's son, Edgar, hadn't seemed to bear her any ill-will. Edgar had been the one to convince Lolotte not to simply throw her in the dungeon straight off, and he'd helped Rosella get free when Lolotte had imprisoned Rosella with the intention of forcing her to marry Edgar in the morning.

He was not much like his mother at all. Rosella wondered how he'd managed to remain kindhearted, even under his mother's wicked influence.

But whatever the reason, she had far more immediate concerns. It was time for Rosella to go home, at last—even if it had only been a single day since she'd left, so much had happened, it felt like far longer.. One last time, she reached into her pocket to check on the magic fruit.

“I will return you to Daventry,” Genesta said, “and with the magic fruit you will be able to save your father's life. We'd better hurry, though, as he doesn't have much time left.”

Rosella sucked in a quick breath. She thought of her father as she had last seen him—pale, weak, barely able to sit up by himself, and so horribly far from his usual, cheerful, adventurous self.

“But first, let's replace these peasant clothes with your royal gown,” Genesta continued.

Rosella would have objected, had she not known that Genesta, with her talisman returned, would be able to make the change in seconds. She didn't especially care what she would be wearing when she returned to Daventry; it was what she carried that was the important thing.

Still, Genesta seemed to be aware of Rosella's father's condition through whatever magical means she used; Rosella trusted that she wouldn't tarry too long.

Peasant dress and braids became a royal gown and loose golden hair; Rosella shook her head a bit, feeling the difference.

“There is someone else deserving of a reward for his kindness and heroism,” said Genesta, with a flourish of her wand.

Yes, yes, well and good, but Rosella really needed to get home right now.

She took a deep breath, and schooled her features into a patient expression. Her mother would have been proud.

Edgar suddenly appeared, looking disoriented—which was understandable, given that he'd just been teleported here without warning. He looked around, and Rosella thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes as Edgar caught sight of Genesta. Did he fear that Genesta would take vengeance on him for his mother's wrongdoing?

Genesta smiled at him. “You have a beautiful soul, Edgar,” she said. “You should look like what you are.”

Was that why she insisted on changing my dress back, before I went home? Rosella wondered. So I would look like what I was, too? But I'm a princess whether I wear rags or fine dresses. Is appearance really that important?

With a wave of her wand, the air around Edgar began to shimmer, and Edgar was transformed before Rosella's eyes.

He stood taller, no longer hunched over. His skin was no longer the same, unnatural-looking green shade as Lolotte's. And his face—

Rosella blinked. He was handsome.

But however different he might look, Rosella noticed that his eyes held the same shy gentleness as they had back in the castle, and he went down on one knee.

What is he doing? Rosella wondered, momentarily bewildered. Oh, he can't possibly be--

But he was.

“Rosella,” he said, a hopeful look on his face. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

Love? They had only met yesterday, and Rosella had never been one to believe in love at first sight. For all that her parents' courtship had been legendarily brief—her father had gone on a quest to rescue her from a witch's tower, and her mother had married him shortly thereafter—Rosella couldn't imagine getting married to someone she'd only just met, especially not when she was in the middle of a crisis.

He was handsome, yes. He was kind. The quality of his soul had been vouched for by Genesta, just now.

Rosella wouldn't mind getting to know him a bit better, but...

“I'm sorry, Edgar,” Rosella said, and she felt a pang of pity as his face fell. “You're very sweet... but, I must immediately return home.”

Home. Back to her parents—and back to the brother who she'd never gotten the chance to know, until now. Back to Castle Daventry. Back to the place she'd grown up; back to people who loved her.

What would Edgar go back home to?

His sudden proposal made a bit more sense to Rosella when she thought about it that way. His mother was gone, but Rosella doubted Lolotte had been an especially loving parent. And who else was there, for Edgar? The goons?

“Perhaps,” Rosella said, in hopes of softening the blow, “we'll meet again.”

Or... she didn't want to give Edgar the wrong impression, and raise his hopes when they might only be dashed again. But neither did she like to think of simply leaving him alone, in a drafty castle that was anything but homey, with his mother's ghost for company.

“You might come to visit my family's castle in Daventry sometime,” she offered, after a moment.

“Of course!” Genesta exclaimed. “I'd be happy to send you both to Daventry; with my talisman returned, it's scarcely more difficult to teleport two than one.”

Rosella hadn't intended to ask that of Genesta, when the fairy had only just recovered from the temporary loss of her talisman; Rosella had imagined that Edgar would travel by boat, if he should feel so inclined.

Hope shone in Edgar's eyes once more, and Rosella wondered if she'd made a mistake.

Well, too late now.

“It's time for you to return home, Rosella,” said Genesta. “Your father desperately needs you. Good-bye! We'll never forget you.”

And with that, Rosella waved her wand, and the air glimmered, and there was a sudden sensation of displacement—

And then Rosella stood back in the throne room of the royal castle of Daventry, with Edgar beside her.

“I...” Edgar began, but Rosella shook her head.

“I have to get this fruit to my father, right now,” she said. She caught a glimpse of her father's adventuring cap, still lying abandoned on the floor where he'd let it fall. She scooped it up, then ran to her father's bedchamber, leaving Edgar to follow or not, as he would.

Right now, there was only one thing that mattered to her.

Please don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late—

Queen Valanice and Prince Alexander looked up as Rosella entered the room. She saw the dark circles beneath her mother's eyes—she doubted the queen had slept much at all, keeping constant vigil at King Graham's bedside. Her brother, Alexander, didn't look much better.

“Father,” Rosella said.

King Graham's eyelids fluttered, and he struggled to sit up a bit, to see her better.

“Father, I'm back—I'll tell you about it later—please, you need to eat this,” said Rosella, pulling out the magic fruit. She held it to her father's mouth, and he managed to take a bite. He settled back into the pillows, eyes closed, as he chewed.

Rosella could scarcely breathe. Let this work. Please, let this work...

Then came a heart-stopping moment of sheer joy--

The color seemed to come back into her father's face all at once, and he smiled. The old twinkle was back in his eyes, and he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Here—eat the rest,” Rosella urged.

Her father took the fruit, and finished it. Then he grinned at her, and she knew then that her father was going to be okay.

“How are you feeling, Father?” Rosella asked, though given the way he looked now, she thought she knew the answer.

“Never felt better in my life!” he said. “What is IN this fruit, anyways?” He examined the pit that was all that remained.

“It is MAGIC, Father!” said Rosella. “Oh, you won't believe everything that's happened—it's hard to believe it's only been one day, it seems like far longer—”

She paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and she turned to see Edgar, hovering in the doorway, looking a bit uncertain.

Rosella beckoned to him. “Father, Mother, Alexander,” she said, “this is Edgar. He's from Tamir—that's where I found the fruit. You see, after I left this room yesterday, I went to look into the magic mirror, to see if I could find any answers, and in the mirror I saw a fairy named Genesta...”

It was like nothing that Edgar had ever known before.

Rosella stood there, absorbed in telling her story—she became quite animated at times, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

And she was surrounded by her family, who were just as absorbed in listening.

Edgar shifted uneasily, not quite sure of himself. He was a stranger to three of these people, and he'd only known the fourth for a single day—and even then, they'd barely even spoken to one another. He felt like he was intruding on what ought to be a family reunion.

He snuck glances at the other members of Rosella's family—her father, with laugh-lines around his eyes and mouth; her mother, who seemed to exude a quiet dignity, yet also a deep sense of kindness; her brother, tall and handsome, with dark, focused eyes.

For his entire life, as long as he could remember, he had lived in his mother's castle in the mountains, with no company besides his mother and her goons.

The goons had not been especially good company.

Neither, in truth, had Lolotte.

She had loved Edgar. Or she had claimed to love him. And yet...

Looking at Rosella's family, Edgar could practically feel the deep bond they shared with each other. He could see the way her parents looked at her, their eyes brimful of love and pride.

He couldn't remember Lolotte ever looking at him like that. She expected him to stay quiet and out-of-the-way, for the most part, and he'd learned to do so quite well. When it suited her to pay attention to him, she'd call him her dear, darling son—she'd overflow with words that should have been loving, but always had an empty ring.

He hadn't realized how empty until now.

He wondered if he'd ever really had a family at all.

He glanced back at Rosella's family, and, unexpectedly, his eyes met those of Rosella's brother.

He looked back, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, and gave him a small smile.

Edgar felt himself blushing under the prince's regard—he hated how easily he blushed—and quickly turned away. He turned his attention back to Rosella's story.

“And then, after I finally got back with Pandora's Box,” Rosella said, “Lolotte told me she was going to force me to marry Edgar. She had her goons take everything I was carrying, and then lock me up in Edgar's room. I thought I was doomed—but then I heard Edgar at the door. He managed to sneak me the key when his mother wasn't looking, and I escaped...”

She didn't mention the rose, Edgar noticed. Had she liked it? Or had she found the romantic feelings it implied unwelcome?

He'd fallen in love with Rosella from the first moment he'd seen her. Or he assumed it was love, in any case.

From the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd wanted to know more about her. He so rarely got to meet anyone besides his mother and her goons—and Rosella was beautiful, and not far from his age, he thought. He had wanted to be near her, to talk to her. He wanted her to think... to think that he was worth being around. He had always known himself to be ugly, but in his daydreams he had imagined that she would look past that, to see something that she could like.

Was that love?

If it was, she hadn't felt the same way.

He wasn't ugly any longer, if the way Rosella had looked at him after Genesta had transformed him was any indication. He'd been terrified that, if he didn't ask her right then, he'd lose his chance.

She'd been kind about her refusal. But it had been a refusal nonetheless.

To be fair, he'd asked at a terrible time—he hadn't known that her father was dying, and she was carrying the cure.

But he had a feeling that she wouldn't appreciate his asking again now, even if that particular crisis had been averted.

And... well, to be honest with himself, he didn't really know Rosella well enough to know that they'd be happy together.

He wanted her to be happy.

He would have been thrilled if she'd agreed to marry him, back on Genesta's island.

But when his mother had said that she planned to force Rosella to marry him, it had felt horribly, utterly wrong.

He'd tried, at first, to convince his mother to just let Rosella go, but to no avail. That was why he'd brought Rosella the key, and the rose.

The key, to offer her a choice—and a rose, to offer her his love, if she desired it.

But she didn't. Edgar didn't know if she ever would.

Which left Edgar with the question—what now?

“I managed to sneak into Lolotte's bedroom, and...” Rosella hesitated a bit, glancing at Edgar. “I didn't intend to kill her,” she said. “I'd already used one of Cupid's arrows on the unicorn, and it didn't hurt him at all, so I thought... it might just make her less... I thought it would make her kinder.”

Cupid's arrows. He had seen the arrow that had taken his mother's life, but now the truth of the matter was confirmed.

He knew of Cupid, and his magic bow and arrows. He knew that they were a weapon meant not to injure their victims, but to inspire love.

If a love-arrow had killed his mother... if love was truly so alien to her nature that it acted as a poison...

Then Lolotte had never loved Edgar at all.

He gave a brief, pained smile, and dipped his head. “It's... you didn't have a choice.” He swallowed. “My mother wasn't... a good person.” He felt his cheeks warming once more, as he felt Rosella and her family's attention turning to him. “Things... would have been bad if you hadn't escaped,” he finished quickly, then swallowed, turning his face away.

Genesta would be dead, now, if not for Rosella. So would Rosella's father.

“You helped with that,” said Rosella. “And I'm grateful.” She cleared her throat for a moment, then continued her story, explaining how she'd retrieved Pandora's Box and the Golden Hen, released the unicorn, and returned the Box to its rightful place, where no one could ever make use of it for evil.

“I finally managed to get back to Genesta's island, and gave her back her talisman—she recovered even faster than you did, Father—and it turned out the hen belonged to her all along. She turned my clothes back to normal, and then... well, she teleported Edgar over to her island, and she changed him. He'd looked much, um, greener, before—like Lolotte.”

That was probably a tactful way of putting it, Edgar thought glumly.

“So she made him handsome, and then she sent us both back here... and you know what happened from there,” Rosella finished.

“Sounds like you had quite an adventure,” said the king. “And, Edgar—thank you for helping her get back safely. We'd be happy to have you as our guest, for as long as you'd like to stay. By the way, Rosella, did Genesta ever say how Edgar was going to get back home?”

That... was a fairly important detail.

“...no, Father, she didn't,” said Rosella.

“In that case, we'd be happy to provide a ship for you. Tamir's quite a distance away—on the far side of Tanalore. Just let me know,” said the king.

Edgar gave a quick nod. He hadn't meant to inconvenience anyone, but here he was.

And... well, he might as well stay for a while.

After seeing Rosella's family, and the way they seemed to care about each other... well, going back to his mother's cold, forbidding castle, with no one but Lolotte's goons for company, really didn't sound appealing.

He'd probably have to go back eventually. But for now...

He could stay here for a little while, with these people who seemed as kind as his mother had been cruel, and figure out what he was going to do next.

The whole castle seemed to have let out a sigh of relief. The tension that had filled every soul within it after the king's collapse had relaxed, and things were beginning to go back to normal. Now that he no longer felt the need to keep vigil at his father's bedside, Gwydion—

No, it's Alexander, he reminded himself. He needed to start getting used to answering to that name—it was what his parents had named him.

...now that Alexander no longer felt the need to keep vigil at his father's bedside, he was heading out to get some fresh air.

The last few days had been a whirlwind. He was still trying to make sense of it all.

He'd spent his whole life—or all of his life that he could remember—as a slave to the wizard Manannan. He'd assumed that he was an orphan—and sometimes, he feared, that he'd been made an orphan by Manannan himself.

As it turned out, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He wasn't a poor orphan, as it turned out—he was the lost prince of Daventry, stolen away as a small child. He had managed to rescue his sister, Rosella—who he'd never even known about until an oracle had told him—from the dragon that had been ravaging Daventry. His parents, King Graham and Queen Valanice, had welcomed both of them back with joy and open arms.

And as if that hadn't been enough, barely after meeting his father, the king had collapsed, deathly ill.

He'd stayed by his mother, trying to offer what comfort that he could. Yet even though he knew that the man in the bed was his father, and the woman beside him was his mother, he still felt like a stranger.

He was terrified that he'd lose his father before ever getting to know him. He'd kept his mother company during the long, tense hours, though he'd left once to try and find where Rosella had gone. He'd caught sight of the magic mirror hanging in the throne room, and seen a misty image of Rosella, wandering through an unfamiliar land. When he told his mother of this, she simply nodded.

“The mirror stopped working when you disappeared,” she explained to him, quietly. “Now that you've returned... it's always helped us before. Perhaps Rosella saw some way to save your father in the mirror, and has left to seek it.” She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with grief—or perhaps the anticipation of grief yet to come. “I can only hope she returns soon.”

And thankfully, that was exactly what had happened.

His father was alive, and getting better by the minute. Alexander would have time, now, to get to know him, as well as the rest of his family—to make up, in some small way, all the time they'd lost.

He reached the door that led to the palace's garden and slipped outside.

To his surprise, Edgar was already out there.

Edgar turned sharply when he heard the door open. “Oh, ah, hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Alexander replied. The young man Rosella had brought home had made himself a touch scarce; they'd spoken briefly at dinner, the previous night, but not much beyond that.

He couldn't help but be curious. Rosella said that she'd invited him to stay in Daventry for a while—which had been kind of her, Alexander thought, given that Edgar might not have been eager to return to the place his mother had died, even if, as Edgar had said, Lolotte hadn't been a “good person.” At first, Alexander had wondered if his sister had fallen in love with the young man she'd met on her adventure, but upon further observation, he couldn't say he thought that was the case. Rosella was friendly enough, but she didn't act like someone who'd fallen in love.

Not that Alexander knew all that much of love. It wasn't as if he'd had much opportunity for romance while in captivity.

Edgar glanced over at one of the flowerbeds, then back at Alexander. “Your gardens are beautiful,” he said.

Alexander hadn't gotten the chance to see much of them himself—it seemed strange to think of them as “his.” He replied, simply, “They are.” After a moment, he added, “Did you have a garden, back in Tamir?”

Edgar nodded. “Yes. My mother kept some plants for use in her magic. But... I had a corner by the northwest wall where I planted a few rosebushes. Though they tended to grow more thorns than roses, unless I helped them along.”

“Helped them along?” Alexander asked.

“I was one of the spells I'd managed to teach myself,” Edgar said. “Getting the roses to bloom. If I didn't, they rarely blossomed at all. Maybe there was something wrong with the soil. I don't know all that much about gardening.”

Now that was interesting. “You use magic?” asked Alexander. “I have a little experience with that—nothing involving flowers, though.” Well, there'd been rose essence, but that didn't seem quite the same.

“I don't know anywhere near as much as my mother did,” said Edgar, turning away. “She... never seemed inclined to teach me.” He shrugged. “So I taught myself.”

Alexander gave Edgar a lopsided smile. “I had to teach myself, as well. Have you ever heard of a book called The Sorcery of Old?”

Edgar looked back at Alexander, and shook his head. “No. I haven't had to chance to do a lot of reading about magic.”

“It was one of the spellbooks owned by a wizard named Manannan,” Alexander explained. “I've used several of the spells within it. I had to leave it behind when I left Manannan's house, but hopefully I can convince my father to send someone to retrieve it—and the rest of Manannan's library.”

Alexander figured that the wizard at least owed him that much, after all his long years of servitude. And it wasn't as if Manannan was going to be using them any longer. Cats might be the favored companions of some magic-users, but Alexander didn't think they could work wizardry the same way humans could. For one thing, it was difficult to hold a wand without opposable thumbs.

Even if it had been a wizard who'd caused Alexander so much suffering, Alexander was not at all soured on the topic of magic itself. On the contrary—it fascinated him, and had for as long as he could remember. It was magic that had saved him—or rather, he'd been able to use magic to save himself.

“Who's Manannan?” Edgar asked.

“He's the wizard who kidnapped me when I was very young,” said Alexander. “He forced me to work for him—clean his house, cook his meals, things like that. I managed to escape.” He smiled in reminiscence. “I used a spell from one of his own books to turn him into a cat.”

“Oh.” Edgar blinked. “So you didn't... grow up here?”

“No. I never knew my parents, or my sister, until... well, a couple days ago. It still feels strange,” Alexander admitted. “But they've been wonderful to me so far.”

“They seem very kind,” said Edgar, sounding a touch wistful.

Alexander studied Edgar for a moment. From what he'd heard of Lolotte, Alexander guessed that Edgar's home life hadn't been exactly pleasant.

“They are,” said Alexander. Then, to shift the subject, he said, “Tell me more about that spell you mentioned—the one you used on your rosebushes.”

“Well,” said Edgar. “I'm not exactly sure how to explain it. I just...” He took a few steps over to where a well-trimmed rose tree stood.

Edgar reached up and placed his fingertips on one of the trees' branches. “I just sort of... ask it to grow. And I give it a little of something inside me to help it.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Alexander saw a corona of pale violet light flicker around Edgar's fingertips, then fade. When Edgar pulled his hand away, there was a small, bright red rose.

However, the rose tree he'd cast the spell on had yellow roses, which made Edgar's rose look a bit out of place.

Edgar's cheeks flushed. “Oh. I didn't realize—I guess it makes sense. All the rosebushes I had back in the garden in Tamir were red.”

Alexander walked over, studying the red rose with some interest. He reached out to touch it—it felt no different from an ordinary rose.

“Fascinating. You don't require any spell reagents, or a wand, or anything like that?” Alexander asked.

“A wand would probably help,” said Edgar. “But I never had one. I think I'd need some sort of wand, or talisman, or some tool, if I wanted to do anything big.”

“But not for small things,” said Alexander, thoughtfully. “You're a fairy, right? Rosella said your mother was a fairy sorceress.”

“I'm... at least part-fairy,” said Edgar.

“Was your father human, then?” Alexander asked.

Edgar's face reddened, and he looked back at the rose tree. “I never knew who he was. My mother would never tell me. I don't even know if he's still alive.”

“I'm sorry,” Alexander said.

“I'm used to it, by now,” said Edgar. “Whoever he was, he either died when I was young, was too weak to take me away from my mother, or just didn't care.”

Alexander remembered, as a boy, wondering about who his parents might have been. Were they alive, or dead? Were they searching for him, or did they not care that he was gone?

Eventually, he'd stopped. Thinking about it had felt pointless—he knew better than to expect his parents to materialize from nowhere and rescue him from his life of drudgery. He doubted Manannan would have taken him if there'd been any chance Alexander's parents would pose a threat.

“Maybe there's a way to find him,” said Alexander.

“Do you really think so?” Edgar asked, a hint of hope creeping into his voice. For all that he'd said about being “used to it,” Alexander thought that Edgar truly wanted to know, if it were possible.

Of course he did. If Alexander, as much as he'd tried not to think about his parents, had been given the chance to learn anything about them, he would have taken it. He'd just been able to convince himself that there'd been no hope.

“There's a magic mirror hanging in Castle Daventry,” Alexander said. “You remember what Rosella said—when she looked into the mirror when my father was sick, she was put in contact with Genesta, who told her about the fruit that would cure him. My mother told me that the mirror had always helped them, so maybe it will help you, too—it's worth a shot. And even if it doesn't, I'm sure there's some magic out there that could find him.”

Alexander had been able to find his family—it only seemed right to help Edgar find what remained of his, as well.

Edgar followed Alexander back into the castle, his mind awhirl with thoughts.

He was afraid to hope that this would work. Even if it did—he might not like what he found out.

What if his father was dead, after all? What if he was as cold and cruel as Lolotte had been? What if he'd hated Lolotte, and by extension her son as well? What if he simply didn't want to see Edgar at all?

And what if the mirror did nothing for Edgar at all?

Edgar wasn't sure which would be worse—not knowing, or learning something unpleasant.

But he wasn't going to back out now.

There was no one else in the throne room—while King Graham was doing much better, he was still restricted from engaging in any of his kingly duties at both the royal physician and his wife's insistence, until they were quite sure he was fully recovered.

“The mirror's on the wall, there,” said Alexander, gesturing towards it.

Edgar paused a moment, studying the prince.

He could see a clear family resemblance between him and his sister, for all that he was dark-haired and his sister blonde. They both had a similar facial structure, and the same dark eyes. But there was a certain air of quiet seriousness to Alexander that Edgar hadn't noticed in Rosella.

Perhaps that made sense. Rosella had grown up a princess, secure in the love of her parents; Alexander had grown up as a wizard's slave, never knowing his family.

But both siblings shared the kind nature that led them to offer help to a stranger in need.

Reluctantly, Edgar forced himself to look into the mirror.

There, he saw his reflection. But looking at himself in the mirror still felt a bit like looking at a stranger. There were echoes of his old self within the new—the angle of his jawline, the color of his eyes. But he still looked drastically different than he had a few days ago.

Looking at your own reflection, and finding it unfamiliar, was a strange sensation indeed.

“How does it work?” he asked.

“I'm not entirely sure,” Alexander admitted. “I haven't used it myself. It's supposed to tell of things happening in the future, or in distant places—I suppose the latter is what allowed Rosella to see Tamir, and speak with Genesta. I assume it tends to show things that are actually relevant to one's current situation.”

Edgar tilted his head to one side, examining his reflection. “I don't...”

Suddenly, the reflection began to shift. Colors swirled over the mirror's surface, and then resolved into a clear image of a landscape like nothing Edgar could ever recall seeing.

There was a castle, floating in the clouds. The landmass it sat upon was covered in greenery, and overgrown with brilliantly-colored flowers that Edgar didn't recognize.

There were two people walking towards it, their backs to Edgar. One was a man--tan, golden-haired, and muscular, draped in loose robes. He seemed to have a thick beard, and he wore a narrow circlet on his head. That, and the fact that he wore purple, implied that he was some sort of royalty.

The other was a woman with had a graceful, willowy build, with skin a pale shade of green that brought to mind moss, or newly-budding leaves. She appeared to be wearing a crown, though most of it was obscured by her thick black hair, which was worn up.

They both, Edgar noticed, had pointed ears. Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be human.

They both stopped at once. They began to turn towards the mirror...

The image in the mirror rippled once more, then faded back to show Edgar's reflection.

“What was that?” Edgar wondered aloud.

“I'm not sure,” said Alexander. “I've been to a land in the clouds once, when I faced the dragon, but it looked nothing like that. And I've never read of any other land in the clouds. You don't suppose... could that be where your father is from? Do you think that the man you saw might have been...?”

Edgar turned away from the mirror. “I'm... not really sure. He didn't look anything like I did—like the way I was before Genesta transformed me.”

You should look like what you are, Genesta had said. Then why did Edgar's new visage still feel like a lie, to him?

He liked his new face better than the old one, he had to admit—but which was more of what he truly was, the face he'd been born with, or the face Genesta thought he deserved?

He wasn't sure. Maybe he never would be.

“Well,” said Alexander, “it's a start. I know the castle has a library—I'm sure there'll be plenty of books in there on distant lands. Surely there will be something in there about a land floating in the sky... I think I remember reading about a legend like that, once.”

Edgar glanced back at the mirror, but once again saw nothing but his reflection. “I hope so.”

Something about the place he'd seen in the mirror nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn't remember ever having been there before... yet there was something about that place that seemed... not quite familiar, but right.

“I hope so,” Edgar repeated, almost too quiet to hear.

Alexander and Edgar had both been sequestered in the Royal Library for most of yesterday.

When she'd asked about what they'd been doing down there at dinner last night, Edgar had said he'd seen a vision of a strange land in the Magic Mirror, and was trying to find out more about it. Alexander was helping him.

For Rosella's part, she'd been kept busy by her mother. Ever the historian, Valanice was determined to make sure she had an accurate record of Rosella's adventures in Tamir.

“I'll want to speak with Edgar, as well,” Valanice remarked, as she jotted down a note in the margins of the parchment she'd been recording Rosella's account on. “It's important to get all sides of any story.” She'd paused a moment to dip her quill into the inkwell, then looked up at her daughter.

“Speaking of Edgar, while I'm pleased to have met him... was there any particular reason you brought him back with you?” Valanice asked.

“Well,” said Rosella, “I hadn't exactly intended to bring him back just now—I invited him to visit sometime, and Genesta said she'd teleport him back with me. I'd... well...” She hesitated a moment. She hadn't told her family about Edgar's apparent crush on her, and his marriage proposal on Genesta's island. She hadn't wanted to embarrass him, and she still felt a bit awkward thinking about it herself.

“I felt sorry for him,” said Rosella. “I don't think there was much of a bond between Edgar and his mother, but I'd still killed her, even if I didn't mean to. And he... well, he sort of proposed to me just before we left Tamir.”

Valanice's eyebrows raised. “He did? That seems a bit precipitous. Still... he seems like a nice young man, if a bit shy. Given that you haven't announced an upcoming wedding, I'm assuming you refused him?”

Rosella nodded. “I tried to let him down gently, but I wasn't going to say yes, especially not right then, when I still needed to get back to Daventry and save Father!” She shook her head. “Like you said, he seems nice, even if his timing is a bit... off. He did help me escape Lolotte. But I don't exactly know much about him. We've barely spoken at all. And now... I'm not sure if he's trying to avoid me, or if he's really that focused on his research. And Alexander, too. They seem to have taken a liking to each other pretty quickly.”

Valanice smiled, a bit sadly. “I suppose they have something in common. They're both new to Daventry—they both must feel a like strangers, here. I did get the chance to speak quite a bit with Alexander while you were gone. He's grown into a brave, intelligent young man. He spoke, a bit, of his time with the wizard Manannan... he told me that one of the few pleasures in his life was being permitted to read books from the wizard's library in his scant spare time. I'm not surprised he's wanting to spend so much time in the palace library. Perhaps books feel more like family to him than we do.”

“M-mother!” Rosella exclaimed. “I don't think...”

Valanice shook her head. “It's all right. He needs time, I think, and space. The most important thing is to let him know that he is part of our family, and that he is very much loved.” She jotted one last note, then added, “I think I've interrogated you enough for now,” a hint of humor working its way into her voice. “I'll let you know if I need anything else. I think I'll go check in on your father; he's gotten a bit grumpy about the physician's insistence that he take it easy for a few days. I think he's anxious to be back on the throne, at his usual duties.” Her eyes sparkled. “You more than deserve a place in the history-books of Daventry, daughter, for what you've done. Your father and I are both more than proud of you.”

“I'm just happy that Father is okay,” said Rosella, rising from her chair. “I can't imagine life without him.”

“Neither can I,” said Valanice, neatening the papers on her desk. “Neither can I.”

A steadily-increasing pile of books had built up around the table where Edgar and Alexander were sitting.

Frustratingly, the most promising lead so far wasn't much of a lead at all. It was from a book called Legends of Other Realms: From Mysterious Isles to Parallel Worlds:

There is a fragment of an ancient poem, the last surviving portion of a longer manuscript, that speaks of floating islands in the sky.

O'er mighty mountains rich with ore
O'er lands of cheer, yet lands most strange
O'er lands that stand beside death's door
O'er deserts dry, and woods of change
A castle soars through cloudy skies
Adorned with rainbow...

And that was it.

Assuming that the land the poem spoke of was the same as the one he'd seen in the mirror, Edgar still had no idea of where it might be. Someplace with woodlands, deserts, and mountains... he wasn't sure what “lands that stand beside death's door” might mean.

He worried that he was wasting Prince Alexander's time.

Alexander, for his part, hadn't complained at all. In fact... he actually seemed to be enjoying himself, to some extent.

The prince looked up from his book, which was titled Tales of the Fair Folk. “I think this might be relevant—there are a few different known fairy realms. One is in Tamir—which I'm sure you know about already, given that you've met Queen Genesta—one is in the Old Woods at the border of Daventry—the interesting thing is that some of them aren't entirely part of this world. I know the kingdom in the Old Woods is connected to the forest, but it doesn't always exist in a single place—it's as if it exists in a parallel realm, and only sometimes crosses over into our world, and not always in the same place. It could be the castle in the clouds is also within a parallel realm—the question is how it could be reached. Perhaps there's some sort of portal... either a naturally-occurring one, or something that could be created via magic,” Alexander said. “Though there's also what's known in legend as the Fairy Kingdom, which we don't have solid knowledge about. Can you remember your mother ever telling you about where she came from?”

“She said she'd been banished from her homeland,” said Edgar. “But she never named it. She didn't really like to talk about it.” Though Edgar could recall her once cursing that unnamed land's rulers at length one night after she'd had a few glasses more wine than usual at supper.

“Hm,” said Alexander. “I don't think she could have been from the Old Woods, since the fairies there can't leave their home forest for any extended period of time. She wouldn't have been from Tamir, since she was banished from someplace else... it would have to have been from some other fairy land, but I can't say I'd know where. I haven't had much luck narrowing it down. I wonder if it might be possible to get in touch with Genesta again.”

“Do you think... that would really be a good idea?” Edgar asked. “I mean... my mother did almost kill her.”

“From what you and Rosella have said, she doesn't seem to hold it against you,” said Alexander. “And you did help save her when you helped Rosella escape.”

Edgar hadn't quite thought of it that way, before. Perhaps he didn't have to worry about guilt-by-association after all.

“Though from my readings so far, the fairy realm in Tamir is a bit more centered in this world—it doesn't fade back and forth like the kingdom of the Old Woods. The castle always exists in our world, and can always be reached—though there may be other parts that can't be. The fair folk tend to be a bit mysterious,” Alexander continued.

“I don't feel all that mysterious,” said Edgar.

“I'd say you're quite mysterious!” said Alexander, the corners of his eyes crinkling with humor. “We're trying to solve a mystery about you right now, after all.”

Edgar chuckled a bit at that.

It was amazing just how comfortable he felt around Alexander. There was just something about the prince that put him at ease. He was incredibly knowledgeable, but he never made Edgar feel stupid. He was royal, but he never made Edgar feel lowly. He genuinely seemed to want to help Edgar, even though they'd just met. He was easy to talk to, he was kind, he was really quite handsome—

Oh, no, thought Edgar. I think...

I think I'm feeling... something.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling.

I'm happy when he's around. Talking to him is easy, somehow—he actually seems interested in what I have to say, and he's so brilliant himself—he's learned so much, even in the horrible situation he grew up in. I think he's wonderful, and I want him to feel the same way about me.

Is that love? Is this the same thing that Rosella made me feel? Or is it different, somehow? I don't know. I just don't know.

Edgar felt his cheeks warming, and he looked back down at his book.

“Is something wrong?” Alexander asked.

Edgar looked up. “Ah, n-no,” said Edgar, still blushing, and hating the fact that he couldn't seem to help himself. “I'm fine. I just think... I'm going to take a walk. Get some air.”

“All right,” said Alexander. “I think I'm going to take a look at Communication Spells for the Everyday Wizard. Perhaps Rosella might be able to get back in touch with Genesta via the mirror—it worked once, after all, though I think the mirror might have only shown her Genesta in response to the crisis with my father. Magic artifacts can be a bit difficult to control precisely, at times.”

Edgar nodded, though he hadn't really been listening to the past few sentences. Then he turned and walked briskly out of the library.

As he made his way down the hallway, rather distracted, he almost ran right into Princess Rosella.

“Oh, sorry,” said Edgar. “I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm sorry.”

“It's all right,” said Rosella. “I was just coming down to see if you needed any help.”

“I think... we've mostly run into dead ends, so far,” said Edgar.

He looked at Rosella, trying to figure out what he felt about her.

She still seemed beautiful, to him. He still knew her to be brave, and intelligent. But...

I think there's... something... I feel about Alexander that I don't quite feel about her, Edgar thought. I don't know what it is. They're both good people, but... there's something there that I don't understand.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I mean... I shouldn't have proposed to you like that.” He swallowed. “I know you probably didn't want me to. I wasn't thinking.”

“Oh, don't worry about that,” said Rosella, smiling. “It's fine. I was a little surprised, but it was honestly sort of flattering. But maybe... don't propose to people that you've only just met, in the future?”

Edgar reached back to smooth the hair on the back of his head. “I, ah, don't think I'll be making that mistake again,” he said. “I was just... afraid you were going to leave. And I didn't want to be alone. I sort of panicked. I'm sorr—”

Rosella cut him off. “It's all right. You don't have to apologize any more! But...” she trailed off. “I'm really not ready to do anything like get married. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better—but as a friend, at least for now.”

“I, ah, wouldn't mind talking to you more, either,” said Edgar. “Friendship... sounds nice.”

I think I might have more of a crush on your brother than I did on you, he didn't say.

“All right, then,” said Rosella, sounding... relieved? No doubt she was happy to hear that Edgar wasn't going to propose again, or get uncomfortably clingy. “It's settled,” she finished, smiling.

Edgar found he felt a bit relieved as well.

I wouldn't mind having a friend, he thought. And I do like her. I think... that's a good place to let things stand, for now.

“Alexander's still in the library,” he said. “He was going to do some reading on communication spells—we were thinking it might be a good idea to talk to Genesta, and see if she knew where Lolotte came from originally. I was going to go for a walk, to clear my head. He'd probably be happy to see you,” said Edgar.

“All right,” said Rosella. “I'll go talk to him. I'd sort of like to speak with Genesta again, as well—I don't know if there's anything I can do to help with that, but we'll see.”

With that, they parted ways—Rosella heading to the library, and Edgar out to the garden.

There was an incredible sense of freedom that came with the knowledge that Gwydi—that Alexander would never have to worry about hiding his studies, or his magical practices, ever again.

He could just sit here, openly, reading a book about magic—he could probably ask someone to help him find whatever ingredients he needed for a given spell, instead of sneaking about on his own in search of them—there was even a school in Daventry that taught classes in magic, he'd discovered.

And now that he had free access to all of these books... it felt almost too good to be true.

Doing research with Edgar had been honestly enjoyable... though probably less enjoyable for Edgar, given that Edgar was quite a bit more invested in the eventual results, assuming this research bore fruit.

He could tell that Edgar was getting frustrated at their relative lack of results. But... something had started to bother Edgar all of a sudden, just before he'd left, and Alexander wasn't quite sure what it could be. Was it something he'd said?

He genuinely liked Edgar. He'd been a bit shy, at first, but he'd begun to open up in fairly short order. He couldn't help but feel he had quite a bit in common with Edgar—they both had grown up not fully aware of their parentage, and they'd both been raised by people who'd been less than kind, though admittedly Edgar hadn't been forced into servitude.

And... maybe the fact that Edgar was honestly a stranger helped. He wasn't expected to know anything about Edgar.

His family, on the other hand...

He'd been missing for almost eighteen years. Even with what little he'd observed of Rosella interacting with her parents, he could see a certain familiarity, a comfort and ease that Alexander just didn't feel.

He couldn't feel it. Maybe, after he'd spent enough time here, he would... but he'd never get the years he'd lost back. He'd never have the experience of being raised by his own parents. They'd never have shared memories of Alexander's childhood.

He feared he'd never be as close to them as Rosella was. And as for Rosella—the two of them were twins. If they'd grown up together, they'd have shared a certain sibling bond. But they had nothing of the sort, now.

Maybe I shouldn't have holed myself up in the library like this, he thought, with a touch of guilt. I've barely spoken with my own sister at all.

Just then, he caught sight of Rosella, heading towards the table.

“Hello,” she said, sitting down. “How are things going? Edgar said you'd been running into dead ends, for the most part—he also said you wanted to get in touch with Genesta again, to see if she might help.”

Alexander nodded. “I thought you might be able to help with that, actually. I don't know how familiar you are with the concept of magical contagion...”

“Not very,” said Rosella. “What is it?”

“Well, the relevant part of it is, when someone casts a spell on a given object, there's usually a remnant of that person's magic remaining about that particular object, unless you do something to remove it. And you said that Genesta had transformed your clothes, both when disguising you and removing that disguise,” said Alexander.

“Yes... you think that could help you communicate magically with Genesta?” Rosella asked.

“Yes,” said Alexander. “If you want to use a spell to communicate with someone, then you have to have some way for the spell to find whoever it is you're talking to. I'm hoping that something that has a trace of Genesta's magic on it will do the trick—I'll probably just need one thread, not the whole dress, of course—though first I'll have to find the right spell to cast in the first place.”

“It sounds like things aren't so bad as Edgar made them sound,” said Rosella.

“Did he sound upset, when he spoke to you?” Alexander asked.

“He did seem a little out-of-sorts,” said Rosella. “But I think... part of it was he was just nervous about talking to me.”

“I can see how he might feel a bit awkward talking to someone who was almost forced to marry him,” said Alexander. It hadn't been his fault, and he'd helped keep it from happening... but given what he'd seen of Edgar's temperament, Alexander could see Edgar feeling guilty over that, just as he'd felt guilty over what Lolotte had done to Genesta.

“...yes,” said Rosella. Something about the way she said it made Alexander think he didn't quite have the whole story.

“I thought something was bothering him, when he left the library,” Alexander said. “I was wondering if he'd said anything to you about what it was.”

“I really couldn't say,” said Rosella. “Thought I think we've managed to work things out between the two of us all right, now. He's really a sweet guy, I think, even if he's a little awkward sometimes.”

“It's hard talking to people when you don't have much experience,” said Alexander. “I never got to speak with anyone besides Manannan until shortly before my escape.”

Rosella was silent for a moment. “You seem to do all right,” she said, finally.

Alexander shrugged. “I think... I did a bit more traveling on my own, and talked to a few more people before coming here, than Edgar did. I do believe it helped. Still, it feels... strange, still. I'm sure I'll get used to it in time.”

Rosella looked briefly down at her hands, then back up. “Alexander... we're all so happy you've come home. Mother and Father didn't talk about you very much when I was growing up—I think it caused them too much pain—but I knew that I'd had a brother. I used to wish so much that you were here—I'd imagine having someone else to play with, when I was little. And... I just wanted to say that I'm glad you came back, and not just because you managed to save my life and defeat the three-headed dragon. I'm glad you're here. I want to get to know you better—you're my brother. I want to you to feel like part of the family, because you are.”

Alexander smiled. “You've all been so wonderful. You, our parents... coming here, and finding a loving family waiting for me, was better than anything I'd ever dared to hope for. It'll take some time to get used to, and to settle in—but I'm glad to be here. And I'm glad I'm going to have the time to get to know our father.”

“Well, you saved me, so I could save him... whose turn do you think it will be next to save who?” Rosella asked.

Alexander laughed. “I couldn't say. I think I'd prefer if it things stayed nice and quiet, for now. I've had quite enough of peril for now. Really, I'd like to be able to just study for a while—to learn more about magic, and about Daventry. And, right now, I'd like to be able to figure out where Edgar's father is.”

“I can get you a thread from the dress Genesta transformed, whenever you need it,” said Rosella. “I'd like to help, too.” She rose from her chair. “With a mother like Lolotte, he can't have had an easy life so far... though you'd know more about that than I would.”

Alexander nodded. “Probably not. I hope we can help make things better, for him.”

If he could get this spell to work, and if Edgar's father was both still alive and a better person than Lolotte, then he'd have managed to do just that.

He smiled at the thought...

Though he would, he reflected, be sorry to see Edgar leave. There was something just plain endearing about him—the way he spoke so humbly about himself, the way his forehead wrinkled when he was focused, the way he worked magic... though Alexander hadn't seen much of the last, the style of magic Edgar used, and the way he'd described it, was fascinating to him. Magic was clearly a part of Edgar—perhaps in a different way than it was for Alexander, but it was still something they had in common.

I should really make the time to ask him more about it, Alexander thought. He claims he doesn't know all that much, but I think he's better at it than he thinks he is.

With that, he turned back to his studies.

“You really think Genesta will know something helpful?” said Edgar. He still felt a bit reluctant to impose further on Genesta, after everything that had happened.

“I can't imagine she wouldn't at least have tried to learn something about Lolotte,” Alexander replied. “And in any case, she might at least be able to point us towards someone that does, or give us a hint. Maybe she's even heard of that land in the clouds.”

Edgar nodded. That made sense.

The spellbook was laid out on a desk in a quiet storage room. Edgar read over the instructions—they didn't appear to be too difficult, and didn't require anything overly difficult to get. In addition to some object magically connected to the person who was to be contacted, the spell required a small mirror, which had been borrowed from Rosella; clear water from a river, which could be found not too far from the castle; a feather fallen from a bird in flight, which had been a bit trickier to obtain, but there were enough birds around here that there'd been no question a feather would drop eventually; and a handful of blossoms from the flower known as Queen Anne's lace, which grew wild in a field to the east of the castle.

Thankfully, Alexander still possessed the magic wand that had once been Manannan's.

“Here,” said Rosella, handing Alexander a white thread, pulled from the dress that Genesta had transformed.

“All right,” said Alexander. He took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders. “Here we go.”

Edgar watched with interest as Alexander went carefully through the steps of the spell. He and Rosella both waited in silence—neither wanted to distract Alexander from his spellcasting.

It hadn't been hard to decide who'd be doing the actual magical work. Alexander was the only one to have experience with this particular variety of spell.

Edgar had used magic, but not of this sort—the kind with ingredients, steps, and incantations. For him, magic had flowed out naturally; all he'd needed to do was figure out how to shape and direct it.

There was an underlying logic of some sort to the ingredients, and the order and way in which they were combined, Edgar was sure. He just didn't know the reasoning behind it.

He could see why Alexander found it so fascinating.

At last, Alexander let the last blossom fall, and finished the incantation. All three people in the room peered into the mirror, eager to see if it had worked.

The image in the mirror rippled, and shifted...

Genesta's face appeared. She looked a bit surprised, at first, but then she laughed.

“Hello again, Rosella, Edgar—and you must be Prince Alexander. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I must say, I hadn't expected to speak to you through a mirror again, and certainly not so soon—thankfully, you've caught me at a less-busy moment. Might I ask why you wanted to speak with me?”

Rosella, being the one best-acquainted with Genesta, said, “I wanted to ask a favor of you. We were hoping to find out who Edgar's father is, so we wanted to know if you had any idea where Lolotte had come from—or if you knew anything about a land in the clouds, with rainbow bridges, possibly above—how did the poem go?” she asked, looking at Edgar.

Edgar cleared his throat. “O'er mighty mountains rich with ore, o'er lands of cheer, yet lands most strange, o'er lands that stand beside death's door, o'er deserts dry, and woods of change, a castle soars through cloudy skies, adorned with rainbow... something. It was cut off there,” said Edgar.

Genesta gave a slight nod. “Lolotte and I were never on speaking terms. I know that wherever she came from was far from Tamir, but as you can imagine, we never really sat down and discussed her past. She simply appeared in Tamir one day, much to everyone's dismay. The place you describe sounds somewhat familiar. Have you ever heard of a land called Etheria, in the realm of Eldritch?”

“No,” said Edgar.

“Eldritch exists in a world of its own, and Etheria floats in its skies,” Genesta said. “I'm only slightly acquainted with the King and Queen of that place. I paid a brief visit to Etheria... I believe around two centuries ago. It's a lovely place—situated in the clouds, with rainbow bridges running between some of the cloudmasses, to enable those without the gift of flight to travel more easily. It's a lovely place—I can hardly imagine Lolotte belonging... no, I suppose that isn't fair.” She shook her head. “I shouldn't let old grudges color my feelings—especially not now. I know she was a fairy of some sort; it's quite possible she was an Etherian fairy. But I cannot say for sure.” She paused, studying Edgar more closely. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. After a few moments, she said, carefully, “I think... I remember something.”

She blinked a few times, then her brows furrowed. “There's something... something...” She closed her eyes, then shook her head, sharply.

“Edgar,” she said, quietly. “It couldn't possibly be...” Her eyes met Edgar's once again.

“I don't know whether to blame some spell of deception or forgetfulness, only now lifted, or my own foolishness,” said Genesta, “but I fear I've made a grave error. You see, The King and Queen of Etheria, Oberon and Titania, sent word out about eighteen years ago that their son had gone missing. His name was Edgar.”

Edgar felt as if his heart had stopped suddenly.

“A few years later, Lolotte arrived in Tamir, with a young child in tow,” Genesta continued.

Edgar shook his head, in bewildered denial. “It's not possible,” said Edgar. “I resembled Lolotte...”

“You did. I don't wish to raise your hopes needlessly,” said Genesta, gently. “But the spell I cast on you... the intent behind it was to make your outside appearance match your true self. I intended it to make you as handsome of face as you were kind of spirit... but I believe what it might have done was simply remove the spell Lolotte cast on you, to disguise you. I will send word to King Oberon and Queen Titania; I'll let them decide what to do from there.” She dipped her head. “It was good to see you again, and better still to be able to right a wrong I let slip by me for years. I wish you well, Edgar, and you as well, Rosella and Alexander. And now, I fear there are other matters I must attend to. But Rosella... by all means, do feel free to contact me again, if you wish. I owe you a great debt, for all you've done for me, and I'd be happy to speak with you further. Good-bye.”

With a wave of her hand, Genesta broke the spell, and the mirror showed nothing but the reflection of the three people looking into it.

Edgar sank back onto a chair, stunned.

“You don't think...” he said, faintly. “It can't be true...”

Alexander gazed at him with his grave dark eyes. “It seems a great coincidence, but it would be ridiculous for me to say finding out that your parents are royalty can't be true.”

Rosella picked up the mirror, turning the handle in her hands. “I guess we'll find out.”

After returning the spellbook to its rightful place in the library, Alexander and Edgar set to work putting away the pile of books they'd amassed during their days of research.

Alexander paused a moment as he put the last one on the shelf. “Edgar?” he said. “You've been awfully quiet.”

Edgar looked up. “I have. I'm... at a loss for words, honestly. I don't know whether to hope Genesta's right, or... it's a lot to take in.”

“Yes. It is,” said Alexander.

Edgar blushed. “I—I'm sorry. Of course you'd know what that's like.”

Alexander placed a hand on Edgar's shoulder. “You don't have to apologize.”

For some reason, that seemed to make Edgar blush even redder.

“I—” Edgar swallowed, then stepped back, looking away.

“Edgar?” Alexander asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I don't—” Edgar shook his head. “I'm not...” He sighed, combing a hand back through his hair. “I'm just... I don't want to leave, when I've only just gotten here. When I've just started to get to know you. When I still haven't figured out...”

When Edgar fell silent, Alexander prompted him, “When you still haven't figured out what?”

Edgar closed his eyes. “I don't think Rosella ever told you. But right before we came to Daventry... I proposed to her.”

“You what?” said Alexander, not quite certain he'd heard correctly.

“I asked her to marry me,” said Edgar. “I know. It was foolish—I'd only known her for a day, I had no reason to think she'd say yes, I just hoped... I didn't want her to leave. She was the first person my own age I'd ever spoken to, and she was brave, and kind, and beautiful. I thought I loved her. But... I don't know her that well. Just like I don't know you all that well, yet—I've only known both of you for a few days. But I... when I'm around you, I'm happier. When we talk, you make me feel like I'm worth listening to. You're brilliant, you're knowledgeable about so much, you're as much of a hero as Rosella—it runs in the family, I guess. You're a prince, but you've never made me feel like I was less than you, even if I wasn't any sort of nobility. Or... didn't think I was. And—”

“...and?” Alexander asked, a bit overwhelmed.

“...and you're... really handsome,” Edgar finished, his face flushing tomato-red. He reached up to cover his forehead with a hand. “I'm sorry, you probably think I'm an idiot—”

Alexander took Edgar's hand in his own, gently pulling it away from his face. “I don't think you're an idiot.”

He really didn't. He couldn't deny he was a bit surprised. But... well, it might explain why Edgar had seemed upset the other day, above and beyond his frustration with the lack of results from their research.

“I think you're being too hard on yourself. Like you said—you hardly got to speak with anyone besides your mother for years and years. And... I can't say I'm familiar with the feeling of falling in love. I've never really gotten the chance—Manannan didn't exactly let me go out and socialize; the first time I ever spoke with someone other than him was on the day I escaped. But I do like you, Edgar. I think...”

He paused for a moment, to study Edgar's face.

“I really would like to get to know you better. And maybe we can figure this out together,” he finished.

A tremulous smile appeared on Edgar's face. “Truly? You mean it?”

Alexander nodded. “I do.” He smiled. “We do have a great deal in common, after all. Even more than I'd thought, apparently, if what Genesta suspects is true. And even if it is—it's not like we won't still be able to speak to each other. There's always magic—and hopefully we can find something a little less involved than the spell we just used. I'd rather not have to go out and pick flowers every time I want to talk to you.”

Edgar actually laughed at that—perhaps more as a way of releasing tension than that he thought it was actually all that funny. Still, Alexander couldn't help but smile in response.

“So, now that that's settled—” Alexander began, only to be interrupted by Rosella bursting into the library.

“Edgar! Alexander! Two people just came through a portal in the middle of the palace courtyard—I think you should come quick!”

Edgar felt rather shaky as he and Alexander followed Rosella out to the courtyard.

Two people. He had a feeling he knew who.

He remembered the image the magic mirror had shown him—two fairies, each wearing something like a crown, one dressed in royal purple.

Was that why I saw them when I looked in the mirror? Edgar wondered. Are they... could they be...

Or perhaps they aren't really connected to me, at all. Maybe it's all a coincidence.

I don't know what I'll do if it turns out they came all this way, hoping to find a son, and end up disappointed.

I don't know if I'll be able to bear it.

He sucked in a quick breath. Alexander glanced over at him, looking concerned.

Edgar mustered up a weak smile.

No. He'd be able to bear it, whatever happened.

Even if he never found his true parents, he wasn't going to be alone.

At last, the three stepped into the courtyard.

There was a whirl of activity—castle employees hurrying to make ready for unexpected guests, or simply finding some excuse to hang around and see what the fuss was about. The King and Queen were here, too, to greet the two visitors...

A broad-shouldered man, tan and golden-haired, with a thick beard; a willowy woman, with dark hair and pale green skin.

Edgar stopped short.

Now that he saw their faces clearly...

He saw pieces of himself—bits and pieces from the face that now looked back at him from the mirror—in the faces of the two people looking back at him.

The shape of the woman's cheekbones. The blue of the man's eyes. A bit of both of their noses.

You should look like what you are.

What was he? Who was he?

The woman took a step forward, her eyes wide. “Edgar? Is that... is that truly you?”

Edgar took a step forward in response, unable to find words. Then another step, and another...

The three fairies met each other halfway, and Edgar found himself wrapped in the first motherly, and fatherly, embrace he could ever remember.

“My son,” the man said, his voice choked as if he were holding back tears. “At last, my son.”

Edgar felt moisture welling at the corner of his eyes. He hadn't realized what he was missing until now.

“Mother,” he whispered. “Father.”

He held them back, as tightly as he could, and in return they clung to him as if they would never let go.

And yet they had to, eventually.

“We thought we'd lost you forever,” said Queen Titania, placing a hand gently on Edgar's face. “We searched everywhere, but there was no sign of you—we feared the worst. But now...”

“Now,” said King Oberon, his blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears, “now, you're back with us. We have our son again, and Etheria will have its prince once more. There's so much I want to show you—so much time to make up for—you'll have to tell us everything that's happened.”

Edgar nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “F-father,” he repeated, the word sounding strange on his tongue. “I will. It's been—I never knew. I had no idea, until... well...”

He took a deep breath. “A lot has happened over the past few days. I'm... not entirely certain where to start.”

“Perhaps,” Queen Valanice broke in gently, “we might begin by going in, and sitting down. I'm not entirely certain where Etheria might be, but after your journey here, it's the least we can do to offer you some refreshments.”

“Thank you,” said Titania. “That sounds lovely.”

The two royal families sat down at the castle's dining table, and Edgar tried to find the right words to explain everything that had happened. “I was raised in a land called Tamir,” he began...

“It's a speaking-glass,” Edgar explained, carefully handing the delicate-looking clear orb to Alexander. “They're apparently fairly common in Etheria—if you say the name of whoever you want to talk to, assuming they own a speaking-glass as well, their glass will start to glow—if they're nearby, they'll answer.”

Alexander nodded. “I remember reading about magic mirrors that work under a similar principle—as long as they've had a previous connection established, it's fairly simple to re-open that connection, and use it to speak.”

“I have a matching one. I thought... it would be useful, to keep in touch,” said Edgar. “And... no flowers necessary.”

Alexander chuckled. “I'll make sure to call often. I definitely want to know more about the sort of magic used in Etheria—I want to see if there are any parallels in magical practices, or anything that we can possibly adapt from each other.”

“I'll do my best,” said Edgar. “I'm a bit behind in my studies, but my parents have promised they'll help me get caught up. I can hardly believe this is real. One day, I'm the son of Lolotte, the next, I'm an orphan, and a few days after that... my parents are the rulers of a land I've never even heard of.” He shook his head. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“No need,” said Alexander. “I'd say we're even. You helped save my father, I helped find your parents. And...” he paused a moment. “You'll be able to visit, won't you?”

Edgar smiled more broadly than Alexander could remember seeing before. “Sure. Once I've managed to master portal-spells, I'll be able to visit as often as you're willing to have me.”

“Well, then,” said Alexander. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Edgar shifted a bit. “Well, um. I suppose... this is goodbye.”

“For now,” said Alexander. After a moment's consideration, he took a step forward, and reached out to give Edgar a hug.

Edgar returned it, with enthusiasm. Their cheeks brushed--an electric thrill ran down Alexander's spine.

It was... well, quite nice, Alexander concluded, and felt himself flushing. After a few moments, they both stepped back.

“You work on those portal-spells; I'll see if there's anything I can do on my end—I'd like to visit you in Etheria, as well. Best of luck. And if you ever want to talk... I'll keep this close by,” said Alexander, holding up the speaking-glass.

“I'll do the same,” said Edgar. He stood up straight, and he looked... well, maybe it was Alexander's imagination, but he looked somehow more sure of himself than he ever had. Rather princely, in fact.

“Until we meet again,” said Edgar.

“Until then,” Alexander echoed. “But first—let me see you off.”

The two men made their way down to the castle's courtyard, where Edgar's parents waited.

“Here,” said Titania, looking at Edgar. “Watch, and try and feel the way the power flows...”

They stood before a stone archway. Titania and Oberon both gestured towards the arch, and the air within it seemed to glow, then shift, until a landscape of candyfloss clouds and brilliant flowers could be seen through it.

Titania and Oberon stepped through, then turned back.

“Come on, Edgar,” said Titania. “It's time to go home.”

Edgar took one last look towards Alexander, smiled, waved, and then hurried in after his parents. The portal shimmered, then disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the faint fragrance of flowers from another world.

Alexander felt the weight of the speaking-glass in his hand, and smiled.

“Until we meet again,” he said, quietly, glancing up at the clouds above.