from time to time; there are babes out there born with two heads or no genitals, princes; you could’ve even been born a troll or shifter or a witch. To me, you’ve won the luck of the draw, all circumstances considered. So, this,” she snapped, tipping the vial sideways. The liquid went haywire. “This is how you rid yourself of it.”
“And how exactly does it work?” Lilac said, her voice cracking.
“All you must do, is envision the trait you dislike most about yourself. Concentrate hard, then drink. It acts almost instantly.” Ophelia set the container on the desk in front of Lilac.
Lilac stared hesitantly. It didn’t sound very promising. Ophelia had just upended everything she’d believed for nearly half her life. She’d never considered anything else, and all the new information was nearly too much to swallow. Ophelia was a gambler and an addict, after all. She was drinking faerie liquer in front of her as they spoke; the witch was delusional at best.
But Ophelia leaned forward, looking very much sober, and furiously rubbed her temples. “I’m going to have to take one of my own headache elixirs after this ordeal—look, you can either take it, or you can leave it here and be on your way. Whichever you choose will not perturb me in the slightest.”
Biting her lip, Lilac exhaled in surrender. She was running out of time, running out of time she already didn’t have. “Fine. I’ll take it,” she said, reaching for the vial.
All this way, for a bottle the size of a swig of brandy.
But the dazzling cure was yanked out of reach. “Not so fast,” she purred, the gold glitter under her eyes shimmering. “I’d forgotten my own formalities in all the commotion; first, what have you brought me?”
Lilac’s face reddened, but only for a moment. She silently thanked the Brocéliande heavens for their encounter with Kestrel as she reached into her sack. The black drawstring pouch was still intact—and, as far as she could tell, so was whatever the bag contained.
Ophelia’s mood seemed to perk up when Lilac handed it over. “You brought me a parting gift after all.” Reaching into the pouch, she withdrew an amber ball of leaves. The witch gasped, displaying the most emotion she had since Lilac’s arrival. “Love in a cage? These aren’t even in bloom yet…” Thrice, she turned the bundle in her palm to examine it. “But how did you…”
“An acquaintance said you were fond of them,” Lilac explained, gauging the witch’s incredulity as a good sign. She had no clue what on earth love in a cage was, but knew she should be careful with revealing the details of her trip—including contact with the Fair Folk and fraternization with vampires—to Ophelia.
“But these plants only grow in the Far West, across daunting seas. Unless…” Fingering the leaves, she squinted at Lilac as if seeing her for the first time. “Did Kestrel happen to mention how we met?”
Her throat went dry. “How did you kn-know,” Lilac stammered, astonished.
“I suppose not, then.” Ophelia held the bundle in her palm and delicately peeled each leaf back to reveal a glistening golden berry. Love in a cage. Lilac had seen a number of rare and exotic fruit in her lifetime, but never before had she seen this.
“In the deepest reaches of the Low Forest is Cinderfell, the nest of the Fair Folk, so to speak. There, they covet an enormous orchard, where they grow plants, ferns, and trees from just about every climate on earth. Every fruit and vegetable you can think of, a literal Garden of Eden.” The witch crossed her arms and once-overed Lilac as if gauging her trustworthiness before continuing.
“Years ago, I’d mustered the courage to explore the Low Forest for the first time when I stumbled upon this very orchard. Intending to forage and escape with my newfound ingredients, I happened upon a young faerie boy choking on a cherry pit. The sound was wretched, there was no mistaking it. No one was around, but I figured letting the brat succumb and risk someone witnessing it would do me more harm than good.” She grinned appreciatively. “After I saved him, Kestrel appeared. Turns out, the boy was Kestrel’s son. Do you know the deep shit I would’ve been in, had I chosen to let him die? Just when I thought the king of the Fair Folk would smite me, he gifted me a berry, just like this. One from his personal garden. It was magic, and ever