1. Down the Rabbit Hole

Tyra

"What the hell is that?" my dad demanded, jabbing a finger towards my forehead.

Elzeria, the Autumn Court's most prestigious designer and the faerie who has brought to life some of the most beautiful, craftiest clothes known to fae scattered all across the globe way before my own great grandparents were even born and who had recently agreed to be my personal stylist just last week raised a brow at my dad. "Don't you know what a pimple is, Franz?"

Dad blew out a breath. "Yes, Elzeria, that's a pimple on my daughter's beautiful forehead. A beautiful forehead which, might I remind you, is your job to keep spotless. I wasn't aware one with your prestigious reputation was capable of slacking off?"

Elzeria- who had been stroking the double branches that protruded from her head and curled across each of her shoulders like braids- froze, one of the green leaves fluttering onto her desk as her thorn lashes lowered over suddenly flashing blue eyes. "Are you calling me incompetent?"

There was danger lurking beneath that question, something my Dad would have warned me to be cautious of if it had been directed at me. Something he didn't have to worry about since he didn't have a drop of human blood running through his veins. "Do you have another word for it?" he asked angrily.

Very slowly, Elzeria rose from her chair. She was six feet tall, practically nothing more than bones with how skinny she was and to a normal human looked entirely harmless. Could be labeled an albeit strange but beautiful woman with her bizzare lashes and braids, small face and chic dress with random holes in it, giving seductive glimpses of her pale white skin beneath the red fabric. But if that human kept looking, they'd notice the pointed edges of her ears marking her as a fae. And with fae, the harmless looking ones were sometimes the most harmful ones.

As if to prove my point, Elzeria bared her fangs and sharp spikes each the length of my arm shot out from the holes in her dress, one of them impaling her table like it was cheese.

Eyebrows raised, I opened my mouth to speak, almost forgetting our rule if Dad hadn't stopped me with a raised hand.

I closed my mouth, remembering Dad's words. With fae, it was best to keep your mouth shut- especially when they were angry. A closed mouth cannot agree to anything, nor can it provoke the faerie further enough that they'll decide to shut it for you. (Seriously, some might try to sew it shut.)

"Why have you got your leaves ruffled when you're the one who's failed to do your job?" Dad asked.

The leaves on Elzeria's branches were turning a flaming red. "How dare you come here insulting me and my abilities when you're the cause of all this in the first place?" she asked.

Dad frowned. "I gave her that pimple?"

I would've laughed if he hadn't looked so horrified.

"Your daughter is a half human who can eat fae fruit without dying but even she isn't exempt from certain side effects. I've been trying my best to keep her together but you continue to push her over and over-"

"The festival tonight is the last time," Dad cut in curtly. "After this she will never have to eat another piece of fruit again."

My mouth twitched at that. Involuntarily, my fists clenched in my lap.

Neither of them noticed. Elzeria's eyes narrowed, her spikes slowly retreating inwards. "Do you truly believe that?"

"The Lord of the Autumn Court himself has invited her to his palace," Dad said, standing up. "His son has expressed a romantic interest in Tyra. He will not fail to fall for her charms during tonight's celebration, and by the time dawn is upon us he will be ready to sell his soul to have her for his own. She will finally have the very best of everything- just like she deserves."

Elzeria tilted her head. "And if he's more interested in watching her dance until she can no longer breathe like the other human captives they bring?"

Dad cracked his knuckles. "Then I'll kill him myself and take Tyra back home."

Elzeria barked out a laugh. "I see being the father of the girl who can dance for weeks on end without stopping has made you more hard-headed. Fine. Come, daughter of Franz, I will show Tyra some lotions she may apply to get rid of that pimple."

"I'll go instead," Dad said, patting me on the shoulder. "Tyra should take a quick nap while we're gone. Get some rest."

I nodded, watching the two of them filing out, Dad's shorter, stouter figure following Elzeria taller, thinner figure out of the office.

I waited for the door to creak close before jumping out of my seat. Elzeria's office was like the rest of her studio, built into the hollow of a gigantic tree trunk with thick roots stretching from the dirt ground to the wooden ceiling like nature's version of pillars. The roots were covered in flowers which were constantly moving around, a few dancing to the violin playing by itself in the corner while a rose was in the middle of boxing with a violet, fisted leaves flying and spraying dirt all around. With the number of fights I've witnessed so far, it made a lot more sense why the only furniture Elzeria kept in here was a single table and three chairs. And of course, the large mirror I made my way towards right now.

I peered at the clear glass, searching my forehead for the criminal that had caused my Dad to drag me all the way here this morning without any explanation. It was my first time seeing it but there it was: a large pus-filled bump glaring defiantly back at me from the surface of my otherwise smooth dark skin.

I wondered if the Autumn Court's prince would be repulsed by the sight of it. Maybe not, beauty was after all a very subjective thing in Faerie. Not that I cared about what they thought so long as I could get another bite- could keep dancing I mean. This was all about the dancing, I thought, straightening. Nothing more, nothing less. I glanced to the side-

Just in time to see the huge hole in the ground that hadn't been there earlier and the old hag that was crawling out of it, teeth chattering like a wasted skeleton emerging from its grave.

"Puny child with colossal dreams, how do you fare?" the hag asked, stooping with her abnormally long arms hanging in front of her. Her square face was covered by a curtain of limp grey hair but unfortunately didn't hide the rotted teeth or her glinting black eyes that had no whites in them.

I cringed. "I was faring quite well before you showed up," I replied.

She cackled. "Insolent child. Do you know how many immortals and mortals alike wish for the chance to be graced by my presence?"

I pursed my lips. "Sorry, I'm not one of them."

"Have you no fear?"

It was a common presumption among the fae that I should be shaking in my shoes whenever I was confronted with one of them. Their reason? Because I was just a poor 'fragile' human (never mind if it was only half, they probably hadn't learned how to do estimates in school). And yet the more afraid they expected me to be, the more I felt like provoking them. Hence Dad's minimal talking rule.

But he wasn't around right now, was he?

I waved a hand, shooing. "Take your goods somewhere else Granny, I'm not buying whatever cake hiding intestine-eating worms you're trying to sell."

She snickered, twisting her neck as if to relieve a cramp. "What I have for you can't be hiding any worms since I had no hand in its making and it is not something I'm selling either. It's for free."

For free?

"That's a new one." I said, dragging a chair over to sit closer to her. "Whatever, I'm listening. But make it quick before my dad comes back and chases you down your rabbit hole."

She stretched out on the floor, hand holding up the side of her face, the other placed on her bony hip. Like I was the one amusing her and not the other way. "The longed hopes of a night's magic will be for naught."

"You're a fortune teller? I don't believe in fortune," I said.

She clucked her tongue at me. "Not fortune, destiny. I come bringing insights of the destiny that has chosen you so listen closely, Child." She didn't wait to see if I would obey, toying with the rags that served as her dress as she went on, "Endurance will be tested, pushed and broken. The fruit will finally begin its deathly work but the hero will save the maiden from self-destruction. Destiny will unite the fallen Halfling with the scarred wolf, bringing tragedy upon the pack."

I snorted. "A love story? Then tell me, what's the name of the dude that's supposed to save me?"

The old hag started crawling backwards into her hole. "The hero that saves you is different from the wolf you are destined for, although she will come wearing a wolf's mask."

She was already chest deep and even though I'd been nonchalant throughout this whole thing there was a sudden pickling breaking out across my skin, a sixth sense that told me to press further. To take the crazy woman seriously and ask. I leaned forward in my chair. "What's his name?"

The top of her head was all that was visible and her hole was quickly closing in on her but her voice rang out, raspy but clear. "I thought you didn't believe in fortunes, Child?"

And she was gone, cackling madly as the hole closed up, leaving the ground unmarred except for a small pile of dirt. A bump on the ground.

Kind of like the pimple on my forehead.