and forth in the early morning air. The mist crept inside our tent, lingering at the opening. The black bark on the trees shimmered delicately with a thin layer of ice coating them, as did the shadowy leaves far above on the small, warped branches.
A single white butterfly flew up from the hovering mist and stopped directly in front of me. Its pale glittering wings beat a lazy rhythm as it hovered to stare at me.
The butterfly fluttered back into the mist.
I shut my mouth, done gawking at the lone beauty in this desolate morning. “You really didn’t go far, did you?”
Queen Alora poked my back gently. “We had to find a water source first. It was a bother.”
My boots crunched on dead, frozen leaves as I stepped outside of the tent. “Where did you find it?”
“There is a small stream that runs throughout the Blood Forest with clean water—I tested it myself first. I may not have my power, but I know water. I believe it is close by still, but it is hard to find in the fog.”
Queen Mikko trudged by, glaring at the creeping mist. “The bloody stuff never goes away, either. Even at Wickley Marsh, it recedes at times. This Fae shit is not natural.”
The capital of the Caster Kingdom had many swamps. If this mist was worse than Wickley Marsh, then it was solely part of the Blood Forest.
I squatted behind the tree first to handle my morning pee, trying not to think about how Father must have had to change me multiple times while I’d been dead to the realm. That was very un-royal for both of us. I squinted through the fog, my head now lower than it.
A silver rat with four ears sat a foot away from me on a rock. He rose on his two back feet, holding his top two little feet close to his furry chest, and simply appeared to watch me while I peed. His tail whipped back and forth, and his nose twitched.
I murmured playfully, “Would you please turn around, good sir? You’re being highly inappropriate right now.”
The rat’s tail curled around his belly, and he turned.
His furry back now faced me.
My eyes widened. “Oh my Fae. Thank you.”
I quickly hurried to finish and rushed to the other side of the tree. Queen Alora and Queen Mikko were waiting patiently for their turn, their arms crossed over their winter coats to keep warm. I pointed a finger behind me, and blurted, “There is a rat back there that understood me when I spoke to it!”
Queen Alora rubbed at her red nose. “Why were you talking to a rat in the first place?”
“That is beside the point,” I mumbled. “It understood me.”
“How so?” Queen Mikko asked.
“I asked it to turn around, and it did so.” My eyes were wide in wonder. “It was remarkable.”
Both queens eyed the tree warily.
“Well, I’m not going back there now.” Queen Mikko turned on her heel and marched away. “I’ll find another spot.”
“Don’t go too far,” Queen Alora ordered sharply.
Queen Mikko simply waved her right hand in the air to indicate she had heard and agreed—a bit rudely.
Queen Alora turned back to the tree and lifted her red nose into the air. “I will not be frightened off by a little rat.”
I shrugged one shoulder, and said helpfully, “It seemed nice.”
“Oh my Fae!” Father shouted. He stepped out from behind the men’s area. “There is a deer back there. It talked to me!”
Queen Alora shuffled behind the tree, griping, “I better get this done before more creatures come.”
King Elon stepped out of the tent, muttering, “That is highly unlikely. Deer do not talk. Are you not feeling well, King Traevon?”
“What did it say, Father?” I walked quickly toward him, ignoring the other king completely. “May I meet the deer? Was it welcoming?”
Father grabbed my right shoulder before I could pass, saying, “He was positively not friendly. He had sharp teeth and told me to quit shitting on his bed. He wasn’t pleased with me.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet, really wanting to meet the talking deer. “Well, if you were relieving yourself on its bed, that is a perfectly normal response. Let me go, Father. I’ll be nice and apologize for you.”
King Athon walked out of the men’s area.
He dragged a dead, bloodstained deer by its hind legs, its throat sliced neatly open. King Athon’s solid black eyes sparkled in the subdued lighting, and his lips curled back into a cruel