The Fables of Para Sympan

Shortly after the conversation, Raven and Fae left their companions and entered the village by the main gate. Philothea and Zoe followed at a distance, and when they reached the wall, they pressed themselves against it, listening.

Shortly, they heard the sound of a commotion. A swarm of villagers must have been pressing around Raven; they heard things like:

“It’s Raven! Raven is back!”

And

“Raven, I have a job for you! I’ll pay you ten talents to make my fire hotter.”

“I’ll pay you sixteen to kill the locusts on my crops!”

“I’ll give you seven and a free lunch to find my missing pig!”

“She’s pretty popular for a woman who hates people,” Zoe whispered.

Philothea trembled slightly as she tried to hold in an avalanche of giggles. There was something legitimately amusing about hearing the swarm of desperate villagers surround Raven. If she had to guess, her fae friend was probably already using most of her magic to suppress her irritation.

Philothea had never known a fae to come to her temple or the nearby village, but she supposed if one did, the reaction might have been the same. Everyone would be desperate for a little magic to make their tedious jobs easier.

In Philothea’s experience, magic was difficult to control and exhausting, but she supposed the benefit of it was that she could always get work.

After a few moments, they heard Raven accept a job removing a mouse infestation. Philothea and Zoe waited until they heard the crowd disperse, then they made their way into the village, trying to act as naturally as possible.

The people of Cedar Valley made Zoe’s dad look like the chipper picture of health. They were a thin and sickly looking bunch.

“Do you think Zeno leaves them anything for themselves?” Zoe whispered.

Philothea felt a lump in her throat as she looked around. The rabble that had surrounded Raven was gone now, most of the people had returned to their work in the surrounding fields.

A few vendors sold from stalls in the streets, but their stock was hardly impressive. Stale bread, wilted lettuce, and a few stumpy carrots made up the best of their goods.

The girls continued past the stands and made their way through the western gate as Pouli suggested in his song. Just beyond, they saw grape vines going up and down the hillside in neat little rows.

Pouli’s head shot straight up at the sight. “Grapes!” he exclaimed before shooting off Zoe’s shoulder like an arrow.

“Wait! Pouli!” Philothea cried, but he was already gone.

“Don’t worry, He’ll be back once he’s done stuffing himself,” Zoe answered. “Besides, I think it’s pretty obvious where we need to go.”

Zoe was correct. On top of the hill, beyond the rows of grapes, was a little house that must have belonged to James the Red.

They followed the road across the valley and up through the line of grape vines. Philothea looked hungrily at the bunches that hung from the branches. Apparently, Zeno’s men hadn’t yet come to collect from James. His produce was abundant–the grapes that hung from the vines were plump and juicy. They were mostly a rich burgundy color, though some were green or purple or yellow. Pouli had probably lost himself somewhere among them and was eating himself to death.

“Welcome, strangers,” someone called.

Philothea tore her gaze from the grapes and looked up the road. A red-headed man, with a bushy beard and a straw hat, was coming toward them. He was, like the other villagers, gaunt. Unlike the other villagers, he seemed somewhat cheerful.

“Hello!” Philothea called. “Are you James?”

“I am called by two names,” the man answered, pleasantly. “There are some who call me James.”

Zoe raised one eyebrow slightly and glanced sideways at Philothea, who giggled nervously. What a strange answer…

“Oh,” Philothea replied. “Um… what’s your other name?”

“Jim,” James explained.

For a second, Philothea thought maybe he was trying to be funny, so of course she didn’t laugh at all. In fact, she didn’t even smile until a few eternally awkward seconds dragged by. Then she burst out laughing.

The man’s smile broadened.

“She who finds joy in all things can never be undone.”

Zoe’s eyebrows moved slightly higher up her forehead. Raven was right about James being odd. Maybe that was what Pouli meant about him being wise? Philothea couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of a test. If she went along with it and tried to understand him, her power would be unleashed, and she would become aware of his connection to her mother.

“Um, have you ever met a man named Pouli?” Philothea asked.

“I know many men, with many names,” James stated.

“Right… but…” Philothea didn’t want to give James too much information just yet. “You would know Pouli as a short, dark-haired man, in a black robe with silver patches. Do you remember anyone like that?”

“Outward appearance deceives. It is what’s within that counts.”

“Right, but outward appearance is what we are asking for right now,” Zoe helped. “So could you just let us know if you saw someone like that?”

“Zoe,” Philothea whispered. “Maybe he’s saying he knows about Pouli being a bi–”

Zoe silenced her with a scowl.

“All will be provided,” James stated. “When the tasks are complete.”

Philothea tried using a cough to mask a laugh, and the result was that she sputtered giggles.

James, meanwhile, turned toward his house and motioned for the two of them to follow.

“You can only get what you give, my child,” James answered. “I will help you with all that you seek once you have helped me.”

“If you are talking about some potentially lethal trials, we’ll skip it,” Zoe said. “We just want some information. Can you help us or not?”

“Many need help thanks to the Emperor. And help may yet be given.”

“I’m confused,” Zoe stated. “You are going to help us?”

By this time, they had come up to the house. Just outside it was a wooden chair and a basket of potatoes.

The man pointed to the chair. “Answers come with focus. Peel the potatoes.”

“Um, how about no,” Zoe replied. “At least not until you explain…”

“I think we should do it, Zoe,” Philothea whispered.

“We don’t even know if this is the right person,” Zoe cautioned. “I don’t think we should–”

“Look, I’ve got a really strong feeling about this,” Philothea hissed. “I just… feel it in my heart.”

And she did indeed, though nothing like any of the feelings that came with her magical abilities. This one was entirely human, a confident flutter like she had fallen in love or been uplifted in prayer.

“Pretty sure that’s heartburn,” Zoe grumbled.

“Zoe,” Philothea giggled.

Zoe sighed. “Fine. We’ll peel the potatoes.”

“You choose the path of wisdom,” James answered. “And wisdom will find you.”

Philothea and Zoe spent the better part of the afternoon sitting outside the man’s house, creating long spirals of potato skin with their knives.

James left them mysteriously after they began working. They soon discovered that he had quite an extended family on his vineyard, all of whom spoke in similar mysterious proverbs.

An older woman, presumably James’s mother, had them help her with the laundry when they finished the potatoes, saying that true righteousness comes with a clean heart and clean linens. Later, a pair of red-headed women came by asking for help minding their children. They left a small army of little brutes in Philothea’s care, saying patience is the door to all virtues.

On and on it went. James had a seemingly endless number of relatives who all spoke in the same way he did. Each one brought Philothea and Zoe new tasks, and the girls kept waiting for someone to give them some useful information, either about Philothea’s powers or about James’ connection to her mother.

It was late afternoon when Raven came up the hill and found them in front of the house, plucking the ends off green beans.

“There you are!” she said. “I see James put you to work. No surprises there.”

She had hardly spoken when the man, himself, emerged from his house.

“Ah, Raven,” he said. “It is good you are here. For pressing matters need resolving, and why labor for naught when magic is at hand?”

“You broke your wine press again,” Raven said dryly. “You know, I probably won’t be back here for a long time, so when I fix it, it better stay fixed.”

“Habits are hard to change, and what has once been mended may need mending again.”

Philothea thought that this was a very wise commentary on the human condition. Truly, this man was a philosopher and trying to teach her something important. What it had to do with her magic, she didn’t know.

Raven rolled her eyes. “I’m charging you double,” she said. “Because I am getting tired of this.”

It was at that very moment that Pouli returned in a particularly cheerful mood. He was about two sizes fatter and singing his heart out.

Pouli is a happy bird,

With a round and robust shape,

Pouli is a nourished boy,

Because he had a grape.

“I’d say you had more than one,” Zoe pointed out.

“He who steals the fruits of my labor must do my labor for his fruits,” James glared.

Philothea flinched nervously. She hadn’t thought that Pouli eating from the vineyard was stealing. After all, how many grapes could a little bird like Pouli eat? Looking at him, Philothea realized it was probably a lot.

“Who is this naughty boy?” Pouli asked, extending his neck to look at the farmer.

“This is James,” Philothea reminded. “Remember, my mom’s friend?”

All of Pouli’s feathers stood on end.

“No,” Pouli answered. “No! No! No! This is a bad man! He won’t share his grapes!”

“Ho, ho, ho, naughty little man,” Fae added from Raven’s shoulder.

“Give a bird a grape, and he will steal all his life,” James pointed out. “A man who kills a bird, eats his food in peace.”

“I’d say Philothea and Zoe have done more than enough work to pay for the grapes,” Raven scowled, putting her hands on her hips.

“The Emperor won’t see it that way,” James replied. “And I see as he does.”

“Zeno’s not going to notice one missing bunch of grapes,” Raven grumbled. “And–”

“Hold on,” Philothea interrupted, “Pouli, this is not my mother’s friend?”

“He is a bad, bad, bad boy!” Pouli answered.

“But did he help you with the baby?” Philothea pressed.

Pouli fluffed up indignantly. “No! He is a naughty thing!”

Philothea’s shoulders fell. So she had been laboring all day for… what? And if this wasn’t her mother’s friend, who was?

“Alright, James,” Raven stated as she tried to take control of the situation. “Once you pay the girls for all their work, I will fix your wine press, and we will be on our way.”

“Grapes have paid all their labors, but their labors have not paid for all the grapes,” James stated, crossing his arms.

“A few grapes are not adequate payment for an entire day’s labor,” Raven insisted.

James’ various family members were suddenly gathering behind him, holding scythes and pitchforks.

Raven, undeterred, continued pressing her point.

“I think Raven’s forgotten the ‘let’s not draw attention to ourselves’ thing we discussed earlier,” Zoe commented to Philothea.

Philothea realized she had a point. She glanced at James’ relatives, who were all standing tensely behind him, ready to jump to his defense. If they attacked, Raven could certainly use magic to defend herself, but then James’ relatives would discuss the incident with everyone in the village, and it would certainly get to Zeno.

“It’s all right, Raven,” Philothea stated.

“No it isn’t–” Raven started.

“It’s a favor,” Philothea insisted. She felt herself smiling, though she wasn’t remotely happy. Her tone was so serious, Raven closed her mouth and stood by looking at Philothea with a twisted frown.

“James, thank you for having us today!” Philothea stated. “And for all your good advice.”

Jame relaxed a little and again adopted his peaceful, carefree air. “Pleasure comes back to those who give it.”

Philothea giggled. Why was this man and his family so strange? “Yes, James, yes it does. Thank you! We’ve got to leave now.”

“What is broken has not yet been fixed,” James said, looking at Raven.

“Raven will fix it for you,” Philothea said.

“I will no–”

“You will,” Philothea insisted. “And then you will meet us at the temple.”

Philothea was slightly alarmed at her own boldness. All she knew for certain was that she was frustrated by her wasted time and wanted to pray.

Raven glared at her. “Fine, but as soon as I’ve finished with the wine press, we are leaving.”

Philothea nodded, and the little group parted ways.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 19

Pouli Sings a Clue

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The minute the village gate came into view, Pouli’s head inflated. “Cedar Valley,” he whistled.

“So you know this village?” Raven questioned.

“Cedar Valley is home to Katina’s friend!” Pouli explained. “He helped Pouli with the baby. He is a good boy.”

“My mother has a friend here?” Philothea asked hopefully.

“His hat is straw,” Pouli explained.

“Did you pull out the straw?” Fae asked. “Did you make a little nest?”

“Focus, Fae,” Raven ordered, scratching the bird’s head. “Pouli, does this friend of Katina’s have a name?”

Pouli twirled his wings and broke into song.

“The baby’s long-awaited fate,

Lies outside the western gate,

Outside the gate, there is a man,

Who will reveal Katina’s plan.”

That man with wisdom so divine,

Will give the power that is thine,

His words shared, will help her bloom,

And seal the wicked Zeno’s doom!

“Yeah, that’s not a name,” Zoe commented. “I suppose there’s no point in asking you to be more specific.”

“He has a big straw hat,” Pouli continued, as if that would clarify everything.

By now, Philothea was beginning to realize something about Pouli. He only remembered details he found personally interesting, like straw hats that could be pulled apart and made into a nest.

“What else did he have, Pouli?” Philothea asked. “Did he have anything shiny?”

Pouli seemed very pleased with this question. “He has a shiny knife and a scythe. (It is very sharp.) And a fork for throwing straw! It falls everywhere in a little rain.”

“A farmer?” Zoe shrugged.

“Very good, Zoe,” Raven replied flatly. “That narrows it down to the majority of the world’s population.”

Zoe crossed her arms. “Fine. You figure it out.”

“Did he have red hair?” Raven tried.
Pouli flipped his head upside down at Raven’s question.

“He has a beard like an eagle’s nest,” Pouli answered.

“Red?” Raven repeated. “Is his name James?”

“His hair is the color of grapes,” Pouli answered. “He has many grapes.”

“Well, his hair couldn’t be green or purple,” Raven shrugged. “So I suppose it must be red. And the only red-headed farmers in Cedar Valley that I know belong to the family of James the Red.”

Her brow was furrowed. She rubbed her chin.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Zoe pointed out.

“It’s just that James the Red never struck me as particularly wise,” she answered. “On the contrary, he’s always breaking his wine press and then asking me to magic it back together.”

“‘Magic isn’t a verb,’” Zoe quoted. Philothea detected a hint of triumph in her voice.

Raven ignored the comment.

“He is a good boy,” Pouli assured.

“We have to go and see him,” Philothea exclaimed.

Raven bit her lip. “Can you promise me something?”

“If it’s about keeping a low profile and staying alive, absolutely,” Zoe answered dryly.

“It’s like you read my mind,” Raven smirked. “I don’t know James the Red that well but… well, he’s… a little odd. Promise me you won’t do or say anything about who you are or where we are going until I tell you it’s safe.”

“Odd how?” Zoe pressed.

“His whole family is cursed,” Raven explained. “Some say it was Zeno’s doing.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, then added more to herself than anyone else: “Of course, if he did help Katina, that could explain why.”

Philothea giggled nervously.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless enough,” Raven clarified. “It’s just… well, he only speaks in proverbs.”

Philothea choked on a laugh.

“What?” Zoe commented.

“You’ll understand when you meet him,” Raven said. “Just promise me you’ll be careful?”

Philothea nodded, hoping that whoever this James was would indeed be a friend of her mother’s and be able to provide her with the wisdom necessary to master her powers.

“Once I pass through that gate, the villagers will start offering me work. You two wait outside until I’ve taken my first job, then come in quietly and make your way through the western gate to the vineyard of James the Red.”

Philothea nodded vigorously.

“Find out if he knows where King Cyrus is,” Raven instructed. “And Zoe, make sure Thea doesn’t let anything important slip.”

“I got this,” Zoe answered.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 18

Raven the Cynic

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“Turn me back, please!” Zoe begged.

They were standing on the edge of the forest, looking out across a pasture at a distant village. A few puffy sheep meandered across the field like drifting clouds.

Philothea sighed. “I can try, Zoe, but–”

“I’ll do it,” Raven interrupted. “No use making Thea hungrier than she already is.”

“Really?” Zoe exclaimed, her voice was overwhelmed with disbelief. “You’re really going to turn me back?”

“Only because it will be one less talking bird to explain to people,” Raven grumbled. “But if you irritate me, you’ll be a bird again the second we leave. Got it?”

“I will do anything you ask,” Zoe replied.

A poof sounded through the woods, a cloud of smoke billowed out around Zoe, and when it cleared, she was back to her human self – sort of.

Her eyes were wide with relief, and the corners of her mouth were turned slightly upward in an expression of unprecedented joy. Philothea had never seen her look so happy or so… well, anything really.

“You got ugly,” Raven observed.

“I’ll take it,” Zoe stated. The emotion faded from her face, completing her transition back to her original self.

Philothea charged forward and threw her arms around her now human friend. Even though she’d never really gone anywhere, Philothea felt like her sister was back. Normally, Zoe didn’t like hugs, but she offered no resistance this time, and Philothea understood that to mean she actually appreciated the affection.

Pouli, noticing Zoe in human form, decided to land on her head.

“Really?” Zoe commented. “I have been a human less than a minute, and you’re already using me as a perch?”

In response, Pouli twirled his wings and sang:

Everyone should be a bird, they are the best to be!
And if you can not be a bird, then you will be a tree!

“Wow,” Zoe remarked. “I see how it is.”

Raven pulled her hood up. “Time to go,” she declared, and the little group proceeded forward.

As they walked through the pasture, toward the little village, Philothea caught sight of a temple on the hillside beyond. She grabbed Zoe’s arm and pointed to it.

“Zoe!” she said.

“It’s a temple,” Zoe stated dryly.

“The keepers there might help us,” Philothea insisted.

“Don’t even think about it,” Raven stated. “We aren’t talking to anyone longer than necessary. We are buying rations, finding out where this King Cyrus lives, and moving on.”

“But the Keepers will probably shelter us,” Philothea explained. “We used to shelter travelers at the Temple of Creation.”

“Sure,” Raven continued. “They’ll feed you and shelter you and turn you over to Zeno.”

Philothea experienced a jolt of indignation at Raven’s statement. She thought of Keeper Ruth and Keeper Eva, how they had risked their lives to protect her. The idea of a Keeper selling her out was as absurd as a green sky.

Raven, noticing Philothea’s expression, said, “You trust too easily, little one. The last thing I want is you learning the hard way that everyone acts in their own interest.”

“If that was true, Keeper Eva would have turned me in,” Philothea snapped. She was mortified when she felt a tear in her cheek. Of course, she had to go and get emotional. Anger was one of those emotions she dreaded because it always made her cry, and when she was crying, no one took her seriously, and she couldn’t defend herself.

“Alright, most people act in their own interest,” Raven corrected. “And if we are being honest, Keeper Eva probably protected you for the same reason I did. Because of the prophecy that this whole affair ends in your favor.”

“Did your boyfriend dump you or something?” Zoe asked.

That comment made Philothea break into a fit of giggles. Pouli, who was riding on Zoe’s shoulder, also giggled, and Raven scowled.

“What?” Zoe shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out how you became such a cynical recluse.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Fae laughed. “You are a cynical recluse.”

“You too, Fae?” Raven grumbled. “I can’t even trust my bird these days!”

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “People made me a cynical recluse,” she continued. “And Keepers are people like everyone else.”

“By ‘people’, you mean a former boyfriend, right?” Zoe pressed.

Philothea exploded into another giggling fit.

“I am this close to turning you back into a bird,” Raven growled.

Zoe took this threat seriously, and they continued the rest of their walk to the village in silence. The entire time, Philothea was brooding about Raven’s attitude of distrust, especially toward the temple keepers.

These holy people dedicated their very lives to serving their Holy Creator. If she couldn’t trust them, who could she trust?

How could Raven live without trusting anyone? To Philothea, that was just sad. Especially because, despite all Raven’s talk about being self-interested, Philothea trusted her.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 17

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It was after dark before Raven let them make camp. Philothea fell asleep the moment she lay down and didn’t wake until the sun was well above the horizon. Before she opened her eyes, she heard a pair of familiar voices chattering back and forth so quickly, it was a wonder they could breathe.

“You’re a good girl,” Pouli chirped. “You’re so pretty.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Fae laughed. “You say so, little one.”

Philothea opened her eyes and was delighted to see the two birds perched side by side on a nearby branch.

Pouli twirled his wings and broke into song:

“Fae is an angry girl, and full of righteous rage,

Fae came after Pouli and freed him from his cage!

She is such a pretty bird, as lovely as can be.

A birdy, oh so charming, and beautiful like me!

Raven was sitting with her back to a tree, smoking her pipe. When she noticed Philothea sitting up, she said, “Guess who’s back?”

“I noticed,” Philothea grinned.

“It’s hard not to,” came Zoe’s grumpy voice from a shrub opposite Philothea. She fluffed herself awake and then fluttered to a bramble beside Raven.

“You know, I’ve never seen a lady who smokes a pipe,” Zoe observed.

“Well, I bet you’ve never seen a lady pop a starling in her fist, but you might if you don’t learn to mind your business,” Raven retorted.

That put a quick end to the conversation.

Philothea devoured a breakfast of bread and cheese. She was still hungry when she finished, but Raven wouldn’t let her have any more.

“We’ve got to stretch our rations,” she explained.

“Can’t Philothea just magic more rations?” Zoe asked. “She magiced butter just the other day!”

“Magic is not a verb,” Raven chided.

“Are you really correcting my grammar now?” Zoe asked, her feathers inflating.

“As long as you want to be human so badly, you should at least try to speak properly,” Raven remarked.

Zoe somehow inflated more, but before she could make a retort, Raven jumped in. “And no, she can’t just ‘magic’ more rations, at least not indefinitely. Every time she uses magic, she expends energy. It takes some energy to actually perform the magic and some energy to create the bread.”

Philothea wasn’t completely sure what Raven was talking about. She regarded her with her head cocked hoping she could elaborate.

“For example,” Raven began. “Philothea eats a loaf of bread, then uses the energy she gained to make another loaf of bread. Well, since she expended some of the energy she gained, the second loaf would be a little smaller. She eats that one, makes another, and it’s a little smaller still…” She twirled her hand in the air. “And so on and so forth. At least, that’s how it works with fae. Half-bloods? Who knows?”

“I see,” Philothea mumbled. She felt her stomach rumble and wondered how much food she would need to eat to make up for all the magic she used yesterday.

“Maybe we should find a village?” Philothea suggested. “Work a little in exchange for more rations?”

Raven bit her lip thoughtfully. “Pouli?” she asked.

“I’m a good boy,” Pouli answered.

“Where do Philothea’s parents live?”

“In a big white house with towers and statues and flags and–”

“No, Pouli,” Raven corrected. “What is the name of the kingdom they rule?”

Pouli flipped his head upside down. “It is a pretty place,” Pouli whistled. “There are trees and vineyards with lots of grapes. Purple grapes and red grapes and green grapes…” his pupils shrank, and he went into a sort of trance as he listed off all the different kinds of grapes.

Raven sighed.

“What is the name of the king?” she tried.

“Cyrus!” Pouli chirped. “King Cyrus. He has a pretty hat.”

Ravens ‘ faces showed no sign of recognition at the name.

“Do you know him?” Philothea prodded hopefully.

Her mentor shook her head. “There’s a human village one day east. Maybe we’ll get some more rations there and find out if anyone knows about this King Cyrus. If Pouli gets separated from us again, it’s best we know where we are going.”

Philothea nodded. Then smiled at the idea of being in a human village again. Not only would she be able to get some real food, but she could hold a conversation with people who didn’t know she was a terrifying, all-powerful half-fae. It would be a chance to feel normal again.

“We can’t stay there long and have to avoid drawing attention to ourselves,” Raven continued.

“How are we going to do that when three of us are talking birds and one of us is a fae?” Zoe asked.

“It isn’t the first time I’ve been there,” Raven shrugged. “I visit occasionally when I need the work.”

“What kind of work?” Philothea asked.

“Boring practical magic mostly,” Raven shrugged. “I cure minor illnesses, repair equipment, soften the top soil so it’s easier to plow… I’ll take any work if the pay is good. I make enough that I don’t have to visit very often, which is even better.”

Philothea hadn’t thought about the practical side of magic. She could probably help a lot of people if she ever figured out how to use her powers properly.

“They’ll start swarming Fae and me the second we arrive,” Raven explained. “Given how much of their labor goes to supporting our dear sweet emperor, they are desperate for whatever help they can get.”

Philothea couldn’t help but notice Zoe fluffing up out of the corner of her eye. She must have been thinking of her dad. On the few occasions he came to the temple to see them, he always looked so weary and thin. So did most of the village people now that she thought about it. Zeno got the first pick of everything, and he always took the best for himself.

“Fae and I won’t be a remarkable sight,” Raven continued, “The rest of you, well…”

Raven stretched and shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’ve got a whole day to figure it out. You all ready to go?”

As they made off, a question occurred to Philothea.

“Raven?” she asked.

“Mm hmm?” Raven answered.

“You said you sometimes cure illnesses,” Philothea continued.

“Once in a while,” Raven shrugged.

“Why couldn’t you, or… another fae, cure Princess Keti?”

Raven decided to embrace her role as mentor by answering Philothea’s question with another question.

“Zoe is human, normally, correct?”

“Normally,” Zoe grumbled.

“And when she is human, she has human muscles, correct?” Raven pressed.

“Um…” Philothea scrunched her brow as she tried to figure out what Raven was getting at. “Well, yes… but…”

“I know I’m skinny, but you shouldn’t have to think about that,” Zoe complained.

“Yet,” Raven continued. “She can’t lift an anvil.”

Zoe’s feathers stood on end. “Who says I can’t?”

“Can you lift an anvil?” Raven asked doubtfully.

“No,” Zoe admitted. “Well, maybe a little tiny one, like for making jewe–.”

“The point is,” Raven interrupted. “Magic is like muscle; some people are stronger than others. Some fae are more powerful than others. The strongest man in the world couldn’t lift a mountain, and there are some illnesses even the most skilled of fae healers can’t cure.”

“But Philothea is, magically speaking, super buff,” Zoe elaborated.

The image of herself with great bulging muscles popped into Philothea’s mind and made her so hysterical she could hardly breathe. As she doubled over, clutching her stomach, Zoe puffed herself up proudly.

While Philothea, the half-fae, was in many ways a demigod, Zoe, the ordinary human, possessed the power many an older sister holds over a younger–that is, the power to incapacitate with a couple of well-timed words.

The Laughing Empress Chapter Sixteen

Raven is Not Prejudiced

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As soon as Philothea recovered a little strength, she insisted on walking.

“Sounds good,” Raven said, setting her down. “Because my back is killing me.”

Philothea’s legs wobbled. She was tired, sore, and starving, but Raven had done enough for her already, and she refused to continue being a burden.

The woods all around the little party were beautiful. Here, the trees were well spaced, and no brambles hindered their footsteps. It would have been the perfect spot for a relaxing afternoon stroll under different circumstances.

As things were, Philothea hardly noticed. Her mind kept returning to the fae king and his daughter–her family.

“Do you know the name of the princess?” Philothea asked Raven as they walked.

“Keti,” Raven answered. “Princess Keti.”

“I guess she’s my aunt,” Philothea mumbled. “She seems nice.”

“She doesn’t get it from her dad,” Zoe commented from her perch on Raven’s shoulder.

Raven smirked at the comment until she noticed the streams of fresh tears pouring down Philothea’s cheeks. Then she frowned and said, “That was insensitive, Zoe.”

“Says the woman who’s been threatening to kill us since we met,” Zoe grumbled, ruffling her feathers.

“I’m over that,” Raven declared.

“Raven,” Philothea interrupted. “Did you know the king was my grandfather? When you found me…”

“No,” Raven answered. “I just knew he hated half-fae on account of Zeno, and also because he’s a prejudiced scumbag.”

“Says the woman who threatened to kill us,” Zoe hissed, trying to move the conversation back to her grievance.

“I am not a prejudiced scumbag,” Raven rebuked. “I hate everyone equally. I’m just a scumbag.”

Philothea was beginning to notice that the person Raven claimed to be, and the person Raven actually was, were very different. A scumbag wouldn’t have risked her life to rescue someone she had only just met.

“You must have known about my mother,” Philothea interjected, trying to take control of the conversation before her grumpy starling companion added anything else. “Her running off with a human must have been a big scandal… wasn’t everyone talking about it?”

“I don’t really follow politics,” Raven shrugged. “I vaguely remember something about a princess being exiled, but that was over forty years ago…”

Again, Philothea got the distinct impression that Raven was more informed than she let on. Why did Raven insist on pretending she didn’t care about anything or anyone? Especially when the opposite was so obvious.

Zoe, meanwhile, was bending her head back to get a better look at Raven’s face.

“Forty years ago?” she questioned.

Philothea wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the base of her wrist. She knew what Zoe must have been thinking. Raven didn’t look old enough to remember anything that happened forty years ago.

“How long do faes live?” Zoe asked.

“Fae,” Raven corrected, then scowling at the bird on her shoulder, added. “Are you trying to ask me how old I am?”

“Yes,” Zoe admitted.

“None of your business,” Raven stated.

“Are you immortal?” Zoe tried.

“No.”

“Then how long do faes live?” Zoe repeated.

“Fae,” Raven corrected again. “Longer than humans.”

“Just tell me how old you are in human years,” Zoe tried.

“It was rude enough for you to ask me my age,” Raven scowled. “But now you want me to do math also?”

Zoe continued pestering Raven as they moved along but never received an answer.

“I really hope Fae finds Pouli,” Raven commented when they’d been walking some time. “Because I have no idea where we’re going.”

Philothea thought of her mother, locked away in Zeno’s palace. Why was he keeping her? Pouli must not have known about the queen’s capture, because he certainly wasn’t taking them to Zeno’s palace. He was taking them to wherever Philothea’s parents lived before she was born.

Did he know her mother wasn’t there anymore? Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to her.

“Do you know if my father’s alive?” Philothea asked.

“I don’t know,” Raven answered. “But the king clearly thinks he is or he wouldn’t have told me to take you back to him.”

“But if Zeno has my mother,” Philothea choked. “Why wouldn’t he take my father also… or… or kill him? Why would he take my mother and leave my father unharmed?”

“Maybe your dad escaped?” Zoe suggested.

“And then ran straight back to his kingdom?” Raven asked dryly.

“I’m just making suggestions,” Zoe defended. “Maybe you should have asked Philothea’s grandpa for more information before running off.”

“You know,” Raven sighed. “I think I’d rather spend the rest of my life hopelessly searching for Philothea’s dad myself than spend another minute in the company of her charming grandfather.”

They walked in silence for a long time after that. Philothea, looking at the ground before her and not really seeing it. Her mind was with her parents, wherever they were. Hoping and praying that they would be alright.

“Raven?” she said, finally.

“Yup?” Raven answered.

“Thanks for coming back for me.”

Raven smirked.

“Well, I hate you less than Zeno,” she shrugged. “And whenever he turns up, I want you on my side.”

Philothea glanced over her. There she was, doing it again—pretending not to care.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 15

The Fae King is Kind of a Jerk

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The way Philothea saw it, there were benefits and drawbacks to dying. On the one hand, dying meant she would be delivered into the eternal garden of her Holy Creator. On the other hand, it meant that Zoe would be absolutely furious with her.

She’d probably be so angry she wouldn’t even pray to Philothea’s spirit, and if she did pray, it would only be to reprimand her.

These were a few of the thoughts that passed through Philothea’s mind as the fae army attempted to crush her. The air around her tightened. She felt herself rising off the ground, higher and higher. She couldn’t move, or breathe, or make a sound. The one good thing about this was that it meant she wouldn’t die laughing. That would have made her feel like a complete idiot.

Philothea was vaguely aware of a voice shouting something, as she struggled for breath. Then, all at once, the constricting force released her. She fell gasping to the ground and lay in a crumpled heap.

While she was still sucking in the sweet air, Raven ran to her side.

“Thea?” she pleaded, gently tapping her cheek.

Philothea turned her head to look around. The warriors were still assembled in a circle around her. What happened? Why had they released her?

From the crowd emerged King Avis walking hand in hand with the little girl from the canopy room. The girl’s bright eyes sparkled, and the warm brown had returned to her cheeks.

The king, on the other hand, looked very much the same. A deep pain burned in his eyes, and his mouth was creased into a bitter frown.

He stood over Philothea, regarding her for a long moment, before saying, “You’re like your mother. She also has a very soft heart.” The ache in his expression increased. “A lot of good it does her.”

Philothea was still looking at the little girl. A warmth and joy filled her as she regarded the bright, healthy face of the child. It worked. She was cured.

“You’re alright?” Philothea asked the girl.

In reply, the girl threw her arms around the king’s legs, buried her face in his robe, and nodded. The king put a gentle hand on her head and mumbled, “Yes, she’s alright.”

Without looking up, the king added, “I will give you until dusk, then I will send for Zeno. I’ll tell him we couldn’t hold you.”

“That’s a nice way to thank the woman who cured your daughter,” Raven remarked.

“Quiet, Raven!” the king hissed. “You’re guilty of treason! The only reason I don’t kill you is that I need you to take this girl to her father. Now go! Both of you!”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Raven answered.

But Philothea pulled herself to her feet and looked at the king. He deliberately avoided her gaze, as the sight of her disgusted him.

“Where is my mother?” Philothea demanded.

The king was silent.

“You know!” Philothea pressed. “You sent Pouli back to her.”

“Zeno has her,” the king answered. “In his palace.”

Horror jolted through Philothea’s body.

“What?” Philothea gasped. “Why?”

“Go!” the king ordered. “Go to your father, where you belong.”

“Let’s go, little one,” Raven said. She took Philothea’s wrist.

“Wait,” the king blurted suddenly. He approached Philothea cautiously, glancing up at her face occasionally, but for the most part looking everywhere but.

He placed her mother’s seal in her hand.

“This is yours,” he said.

Before Philothea could say ‘thank you,’ Raven grabbed her wrist, and they both disappeared.

When Philothea and Raven materialized at the falls, they were greeted by the voice of Fae.

“Where is Pouli?” she asked.

Zoe, on the other hand, fluffed up excitedly. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “What happened? Why didn’t you follow us?”

Philothea opened her mouth to answer. The words caught in her throat. Without danger to keep her distracted, an avalanche of emotions crushed her. She fell to the ground in a sobbing, shaking ball.

“We’ll explain later,” Raven answered. “It’s been a long day, and it’s not over yet.”

“Where is my tiny Pouli?” Fae continued. “Ho, ho, ho, he’s a funny little one.”

“The king sent him back to Katina at Zeno’s palace,” Raven replied. “But he only left this morning, you might still be able to find him, Fae.”

“I will find my Pouli,” Fae replied. “He’s such a good boy, a pretty boy. I will find my Pouli.”

Fae spread her wings and took off.

Raven stooped down and took Philothea’s arm. “We’ve got to keep moving, little one. Zeno must be very close by, and we’ll want to be long gone before the king sends for him.”

Philothea wanted to curl up and sleep. She was spent physically and emotionally. A week ago, she had no idea she could even do magic; now, she was using it to fight for her life, blow stuff up, and heal people. Her whole body hurt.

Still, she knew Raven was right. She wiped her eyes with her wrist and tried to stand, but her legs trembled and gave way. Raven tugged her arm, trying to help her up. Philothea struggled to regain her footing, but it was no use.

Her untrained body had been completely overwhelmed by its own power. She collapsed.

“It’s a good thing you’re tiny,” Raven grumbled as she stooped down and lifted Philothea into her arms.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 14

Philothea Blows Stuff Up

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An explosion sounded through the village, as the side of one of the tree-top rooms blew out. The door, incidentally, was still in perfect condition.

“I’m sorry!” Philothea squeaked. She peered out of the hole, hoping the wreckage hadn’t crushed anyone.

“It’s fine,” Raven shrugged. “This will do. See you at the falls.”

“What?” Philothea exclaimed.

But Raven, Zoe, and Fae vanished, leaving her alone.

Philothea could hear the cries of the guards calling for reinforcements. She felt their magic all around her, pulling at her, trying to hold her still. It was now or never. She pictured the fall very clearly in her mind and… nothing happened.

Philothea looked around in a panic. Why hadn’t she moved?

She tried again, and again. The door opened, and guards poured in.

The invisible force around her tightened, choking her. She struggled against it, and the force snapped, sending her spiraling backward out of the jagged gap in the wall. Time seemed to slow down as she saw alternately the branches above her and the forest floor below. Then, her stomach leapt to her throat as she felt herself falling.

Before she even had a chance to fathom her drop to certain death, another force took hold of her, slowing her fall and drawing her close to one of the many wooden bridges that spanned the upper levels of the forest. Someone had caught her; someone’s magic was pulling her to safety, but she couldn’t see who it was.

At last, she landed on one of the walkways. She stumbled to her feet and brushed herself off, trying to get her bearings. The room where she started was several levels above her, easily distinguishable by the splintered gap in the side. On the walkway in front of it, some of the guards lay in crumpled heaps. Her heart raced as she realized this was her doing. Shehad hurt those men. Not only that, but she had sent some of their fellows flying clean off the bridge–what if… A glance over the walkway confirmed her suspicions. Two of the guards had fallen all the way to the forest floor, where they lay unmoving.

She clasped her hands over her mouth. Oh, please, no… she prayed. The idea that she might have killed them made her nauseous.

But she did not have time to linger in regret; some of the guards above were recovering, and others were already making their way toward her through the labyrinth of stairs and bridges.

The bridge where Philothea stood connected two rooms, each built in a circle around a tree-trunk. Neither had windows on the front, and she had no idea what waited for her within them.

After glancing back and forth for a second, she picked the room on her left but found the door locked. Gripping the handle, she focused. A small explosion sent the door flying off its hinges and her stumbling backward.

Not exactly what she was hoping for, but at least this time the explosion hadn’t sent her or anyone else hurtling toward certain death. Philothea jumped to her feet and dove into the room where she was greeted by an unexpected sound–a giggle.

The tree trunk in the center of the circular room partially obstructed her view. She moved cautiously around this, her heart hammering in her chest. On the far side of the room, a little fae child sat up in bed, observing her through wide, green eyes. The child was giggling, crying, and coughing all at once.

“I’m sorry,” Philothea breathed. “Are-are you alright?”

The little girl shrank backward in terror, which was a perfectly reasonable reaction considering Philothea had just blown up her door.

“You’re a half-blood,” the girl whimpered.

Philothea looked over her shoulder at the hole where the door used to be. She didn’t see any guards through it, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to her. Voices echoed through the wood all around them, fae warriors calling to one another, trying to gather for another attack.

She looked back at the child, hoping she wouldn’t scream. Luckily, the girl seemed to be venting her terror through a cascade of muffled hysteria.

Philothea, being particularly susceptible to the contagion that is giggling, joined in, though she didn’t find anything about the situation remotely amusing. That made the fae child break into a full-blown laugh.

Philothea was alarmed by this, wondering if the child knew something she didn’t. She looked wildly around the room to see if the guards were already upon her.

“Why are you laughing?” Philothea squeaked.

The girl shrugged. “Because, because …I don’t want to die!”

Philothea regarded the trembling mess of a girl before her. The poor thing was being overwhelmed by every existing emotion. In all her fifteen years, Philothea never met anyone more relatable.

Something occurred to her. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the guards hadn’t caught up to her yet and then said, “Who are you?”

The little girl sealed her lips and shook her head.

Of course, she wasn’t going to reveal her identity to a terrible half-blood. Philothea tried a different approach.

“My name is Philothea, I won’t hurt you.”

The girl looked incredulous.

Philothea was about to try something else when she heard the sound of heavy footfall on the bridge outside. She didn’t have time for this, but… she had to try one more time. There was a window above the girl’s bed; she could always jump through that if worse came to worst.

“The king is my grandpa,” Philothea pressed. “And you’re related to him, aren’t you?”

“I’m sick!” the girl suddenly cried. “Very sick! Go away, or you’ll catch it!”

The girl wasn’t lying; she did indeed look sick. All the fae Philothea had encountered thus far had a beautiful, warm brown complexion, but this little girl was pale and ashy, tiny and frail. She kept falling into these violent coughing fits.

A brisk shouting snapped Philothea’s attention to the door. Just outside, a guard was calling for reinforcements. The idea that the warrior was afraid to approach her on her own made Philothea laugh and cry at the same time.

This agitated the little girl, who pulled her blanket up defensively and shouted. “I’m sick! Very sick! Go away! You’ll catch it!”

Watching the little girl laugh and sob as she trembled in terror convinced Philothea they had to be related. She was probably the king’s daughter or granddaughter, making her either Philothea’s cousin or aunt.

An idea occurred to Philothea. Considering she was in the middle of running for her life, it was probably stupid, but she had to try. The sight of that sick child was heartbreaking, and after blowing up her door and scaring her half to death, the least Philothea could do was try to help.

She reached out and grabbed the little girl’s hand. The child somehow became paler at her touch.

“I’M SICK!” she shrieked.

“No, you aren’t,” Philothea assured, and she willed it to the very depths of her soul.

That’s when the guards charged in. Philothea felt their magic pulling at her. She struggled against it, broke free, and leapt over the child’s bed and through the window.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much outside aside from a few tree branches and a massive drop. Philothea struggled along a thick limb, her hands clinging to the branches above her. As she moved along the precarious branch, she decided she didn’t like heights.

For maybe the first time in her life, she was too terrified to make a sound aside from a whimper. There was no way she couldn’t outrun the fae warriors here, they were so at ease in their home among the trees.

She looked over her shoulder at the window. Why weren’t they following?

“There you are!” came Raven’s voice.

Philothea jumped at the sound and tumbled off the limb toward the forest floor. The same invisible force that she felt before wrapped itself around her, slowing her descent until she landed gently in the leaf litter.

From her position on the forest floor, she could see Raven glaring down at her from the branches above.

“Stay there!” she ordered, before scurrying away down the tree limb as easily as a squirrel.

Philothea sat up slowly. Her hands trembled, her heart pounded, she looked around. At a distance, she saw the fae guards she’d thrown earlier lying on the ground. A few of the castle residents were gathering ‘round them. A thin fae with a somber expression, probably a healer, was kneeling beside the nearest one.

Philothea squealed when a firm hand grabbed her shoulder, she spun around to see Raven. How in the world did she get down so fast? And why did she always move so quietly?

The people helping the fallen guards looked over at the sound of Philothea’s voice, terror washing over them.

“Time to go,” Raven ordered.

“Not yet,” Philothea answered.

“Not yet?” Raven exclaimed in disbelief. “What do you possibly–”

But Philothea was already running toward the closest of the fallen guards. The people around him scattered at her approach.

“What are you doing?” Raven cried, running after her.

Now, Philothea could feel Raven’s magic tugging at her.

“Stop that!” she cried, spinning back toward Raven.

Raven’s magic snapped, and she stumbled backward, swearing.

Since Philothea could hear that she was perfectly all right, she continued toward the guard. He did not look good. Actually, he looked dead. He was pale and breathless. Crimson blood stained the side of his head and the earth around him.

Shaking with horror and grief, Philothea took his hand, her tears splashing down onto his face. She wanted so badly for him to wake. When she tried to heal the fae child, she felt magic go out from her. She had to flee before she could see the result, but she felt to the very depths of her soul that something had happened. Perhaps, perhaps, she could help this guard, too.

She squeezed his hand and focused.

The man gasped and sat up. He looked at Philothea for a long moment before shrinking back in horror.

At the sight of her former victim, alive and well, Philothea did the natural thing–she laughed. This did nothing to put him at ease. He remained frozen in terror, his icy blue eyes wide.

“You’re alright,” Philothea breathed, as much assuring herself as she was him.

“That’s fantastic,” Raven grumbled from over Philothea’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go.”

Philothea glanced around the clearing. An army was assembling among the trees. Fae warriors clad in shining armor were closing in around her.

“You go, Raven!” Philothea cried. “I’ve got to heal the other!”

“You mean the other brute that tried to arrest you?” Raven answered dryly. She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

“It’s my fault he’s hurt,” Philothea objected as she raced toward her second victim.

“No,” Raven called. “It’s his fault. You were just defending yourself.”

Raven had a point, but that did not dissuade Philothea from her task. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Yes, she’d wounded both guards. But it was in self-defense. They loathed her. They wanted her dead.

So much in this world outside the temple was confusing. She was constantly questioning reality itself, but there was one thing she was absolutely sure of–she would rather die than kill.

The second man was unconscious, but still breathing.

“You know, I’m risking my life for you,” Raven pointed out. “Have you ever considered that?”

“I don’t want you to!” Philothea called back. “Go! While you have the chance!”

But the chance was already gone. The king’s army had them both completely surrounded. One of the men grabbed Raven’s arm.

Philothea felt their magic taking hold of her.

“Not yet!” she cried. “Let me heal him first!”

But the force around her kept growing, squeezing her. She couldn’t breathe. They were no longer interested in taking her prisoner; they were actively trying to kill her.

It was a strange thing, though she could feel them using their combined magic to break her, she wasn’t afraid. She was frustrated and angry. Why couldn’t they wait one second for her to heal the fallen guard?

She fought them, trying to hold them off just long enough for her healing magic to work.

Finally, the wounded guard opened his eyes and sat up. She’d done it. Despite everything, she had healed him, and now she was too exhausted to fight anymore. She ceased struggling and let the army’s magic overwhelm her.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 13

Castle in the Canopy

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The party of fae led Philothea into the forest, keeping her in the center of their group. Raven followed behind, wearing an irritated scowl.

Pouli sat on Philothea’s shoulder, shouting his displeasure at her captors, calling them “naughty things”, and “very bad”, and telling them they would have no grapes. Zoe took what Philothea thought was the smarter approach. She was fluttering after them in the tree-tops, presumably waiting for an opportunity to help.

The deeper into the forest they ventured, the thicker the trees grew. Soon, when the canopy had become so thick it was blocking most of the sun, they came to a village like none Philothea had ever seen before.

The houses were built among the trees. Some even had upper levels constructed in a circle around the trunks themselves.

As the fae led Philothea through the strange place, their brethren came out from the houses, staring and asking questions.

“Is that a half-blood?”

“It can’t be!”

“Is she like Zeno?”

Philothea smiled nervously at the spectators, but none smiled back. Some looked curious, others absolutely terrified.

Philothea had no idea what to feel when she saw the fear in their eyes. Her adoptive family back at the Temple of Creation found her either charming or annoying, depending on the day. No one feared her. What was there to fear about the tiny, round-faced, giggly girl?

When she looked at the faces of the villagers, she decided she didn’t like being feared. In fact, she would rather see anger or annoyance in their expressions. She knew all too well what it was to be afraid, and hated the idea of stirring that emotion in anyone.

At long last, they came to a broad wooden gate in a wall that, Philothea guessed, surrounded the king’s home. The wall ran between a number of trees that acted as posts. Over it, she could see a dozen rooms built in circles up and down the trunks of trees. These were connected to one another with rope bridges.

The guards opened the gate for them immediately, and when they stepped into the courtyard, a nobleman was waiting to greet them. He was a handsome man, with a somber, lined face; his long black hair was woven into braids beneath a crown made of interconnected polished white wooden rods.

Philothea realized this had to be King Avis.

He regarded her for a long time before speaking.

“Raven,” the king stated, without taking his eyes off Philothea. “Why didn’t you bring her to me immediately?”

Raven moved up through the crowd and put a hand on Philothea’s shoulder.

“Why would I trouble you about a harmless little girl?” she replied dryly.

“You can’t sense her power?” the king demanded.

“What power?” Raven shrugged.

“You realize that harboring a half-blood is treason,” King Avis continued. “By our law and Emperor Zeno’s.”

He kept his gaze on Philothea, as if she would start murdering people the second he looked away.

“Are you really that frightened of her?” Raven mentioned, in disbelief.

“Silence,” the king barked, finally moving his gaze to Raven. “You will be dealt with, right after I figure out what to do with the girl.”

“You naughty king!” Pouli shouted. “This is Kiki’s baby, Kiki will be angry.”

“Pouli?” the king remarked, tearing his eyes off Philothea to look at the bird.

“I am Pouli,” Pouli answered. “I am a good boy. I saved the princess!” He puffed up and sang:

The bitter king has rued the day,

A human stole his love away.

His love, a daughter, his delight,

With lovely eyes so green and bright.

To a prince of men his child fled,

And to this prince, she soon was wed.

Her people utterly betrayed,

By the foolish game she played.

In love, she–

“Quiet, Pouli,” the king ordered. His expression was somehow more solemn. He looked back at Philothea, biting his lip thoughtfully.

Philothea looked back at him, Pouli’s little song nagging at her mind.

“Is Katina your daughter?” Philothea asked.

The king ignored her, instead holding out his hand toward Pouli.

At once Philothea felt a strong wind rushing around her shoulders. It picked up Pouli, who tried to fly against it.

“YOU NAUGHTY THING! STOP THIS WIND! GO BACK IN YOUR CAGE! CURSE YOU, YOU EVIL KING!”

Pouli was sucked farther and farther back toward the king, flapping furiously to break free of his pull. When Pouli was within the king’s reach, he snatched him out of the air and held him tightly in his fist.

The king then handed the bird to one of his servants.

“See that he is returned to Katina,” he requested.

“Katina will be angry! So angry!” Pouli shouted. “I’ll tell her you took her baby!”

He bit at the servant’s hand, trying to free himself. Unfortunately, without teeth, this did little to help him.

“Is Katina your daughter?” Philothea repeated. She did not appreciate being ignored.

When the king did not respond, Raven spoke up. “What? Is she going to vaporize you if you talk to her?”

“Watch your tongue,” the king snapped.

“Gladly,” Raven smirked. “I’ll watch it as it insults my cowardly king!”

“Take her away,” the king ordered. A bunch of his guards scurried to obey.

“Aw, he’s afraid of my words, too?” Raven grumbled. “Poor little king, he’s having a hard day.”

The king’s expression was burning with fury as he looked after Raven. A guard took her by the arm, and the two vanished.

The king turned back to Philothea; his expression was still solemn, but the anger had gone.

“You’re my grandfather,” Philothea stated. “Aren’t you?”

The king winced slightly at those words, then looked away from her, motioning for the remainder of his guards.

“Lock her up,” he ordered. “I will discuss this matter with the council.”

The guards approached apprehensively. It was ridiculous that these burly warriors should be afraid of a little round-faced girl. A laugh escaped her.

The guards froze in horror at the sound, staring at Philothea as if she were about to instantaneously vaporize them all.

Looking at their horrified faces made her double over in a giggling fit. She was shaken, terrified, and couldn’t get over the absurdity of her situation.

“Why are you laughing?” the king hissed.

She looked up through the wall of soldiers. The king was also frozen in terror; clearly, he thought she was about to execute some brilliant plan for escaping and/or conquering his village.

“I’m laughing because…” Philothea coughed. “I’m afraid, and you’re afraid and…” She was too overwhelmed to know what she was saying. She threw up her hands. “I don’t know!”

A little of the fear melted away from the king’s expression, replaced by a deep pain.

He dropped his gaze to the ground and motioned with his hand for the guards to carry out his orders.

The guards led Philothea up a maze of curling staircases and swinging bridges higher and higher into the canopy. She had expected them to grab her by the arm and magic her away, just like they’d done with Raven, but they didn’t.

None spoke a word as they walked, and she dared not speak to them. Pouli, Raven, and Fae were all gone, and she had lost sight of Zoe. She hoped Zoe was still watching her from the branches somewhere. She was alone and utterly terrified, yet she couldn’t stop giggling through it all.

This made the guards even more nervous, which made her laugh harder, and the cycle continued until they came to one of the circular tree houses near the top of the canopy. There, one of the guards took her satchel and, reaching into her pocket, found Katina’s seal.

Despair welled up in Philothea’s throat as he handed it to one of his fellows and ordered it to be given to the king.

She couldn’t use her magic without it, so why were they still acting so nervous?

Finally, they opened the door to the treehouse and ordered her inside. She ran in immediately when she saw Raven leaning against the opposite wall with Fae perched on her arm.

She jumped when she heard the thick wooden door slam shut behind her.

“I see they brought you up the long way,” Raven commented.

Philothea had never been barraged with so many emotions all at once. She was relieved to see Raven and terrified about what was going to happen to them. She had also just met her first blood relative, which was somewhat exciting except for the fact that he refused to acknowledge her and probably wanted her dead.

“What’s going to happen to us?” she asked Raven.

Raven was sitting against the wall with her fingers laced, tapping her thumbs together thoughtfully.

“You mean if you don’t get us out?” Raven asked. “That’s not relevant, since you are getting us out.”

Philothea looked around the room. It didn’t have any windows. The only opening was a small hole in the wall where a knot had fallen out of one of the wooden boards.

“I can’t. They took my ring,” Philothea frowned.

Raven waved off her objection. “The magic comes from you, not the ring.”

“Then why—”

“Your mother’s seal brings it out, makes it stronger, but it neither gives you your magic, nor takes it away.”

Philothea knew that she was right. The ring hadn’t given her anything, it had awakened something that was already inside her. Still, without it, it was harder to feel her power.

“Can’t you get us out?” Philothea tried.

“Do you really think they would put me in here if I could just magic my way out?”

“Well, they put me in here, too,” Philothea pointed out.

“They don’t have a prison that can contain you, little one,” Raven grinned.

As she was speaking, a starling shot in through the knothole in the wall and landed on Philothea’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said, identifying herself as Zoe. “But your handsome grandpa is going to kill you.”

Philothea squeaked.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Raven asked.

“Of course,” Zoe replied. “If I have to be a bird, I might as well make some use out of it.”

“You’re a good girl,” Fae observed, with her usual hearty laugh.

“Yeah,” Zoe continued. “His council was sitting around debating about whether they should hand you over to Zeno or secretly kill you themselves.They’re still talking, but I think they’ve decided on the latter? Either way, your grandpa is the worst, so I think it’s time for you to blow this place up.”

“Love it!” Raven agreed, clapping her hands together.

Philothea bit her lip.

“Just get us out of this room, Thea,” Raven said. “Then we can both transport ourselves somewhere and continue our journey on foot.”

“How?” Philothea asked, a knot forming in her stomach.

“To move yourself, you only need to picture the place you want to go and then will yourself there,” Raven explained. “It needs to be someplace you’ve seen and I can only travel short distances this way. For the time being, we’ll assume you have the same limitation. Once we step out of this room, picture the falls where they found us and will yourself there.”

Philothea nodded. “And Zoe too?”

“You’re still learning,” Raven continued. “I’ll move everyone else. You just need to open the door and go, understand?”

“Alright,” Philothea nodded. “Um… how do I open the door?”

“Will it,” Raven said.

“What does that even mean?” Zoe grumbled.

“You can’t possibly understand,” Raven glared at her. “But Philothea does.”

Oddly enough, Philothea actually did understand. Finding that ability was like searching for a common word she’d forgotten. It was there somewhere on the edge of her mind. She just needed to remember it.

She looked at the door. All she had to do was reach out and… do it. Open it. Break the lock.

She was untrained, weak, but if she couldn’t get them out, they were all going to die.

Philothea took a deep breath and turned toward the door.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 12

The Illusionist

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Philothea didn’t have much to pack, only the few trinkets she had collected from Pouli’s cave. Raven was kind enough to replace the basket she was using to carry them with an actual satchel.

At first, Raven worked at a casual pace, gathering supplies, cleaning up, and asking the girls questions about their life at the temple and what happened the day Zeno arrived.

“I thought maybe he was Philothea’s secret dad,” Zoe was saying, as she watched Philothea and Raven wrapping up smoked fish and cheese.

“Not likely,” Raven answered. “Because Thea is definitely half-fae, and if Zeno was her dad, she’d only be a quarter fae.”

“Unless her mom was also half-fae,” Zoe interjected.

“Half-fae are very rare,” Raven explained. “Fae don’t like hum–” she paused suddenly, standing stiff and straight, listening.

At the very same moment, Philothea felt the familiar prickling of icy needles.

Raven went to the window and looked out.

“What is it?” Philothea whispered.

“What’s what?” Zoe asked.

“I don’t know,” Raven answered. She held up her arm for Fae. The great black bird came to her from her perch on one of the chair backs. “Fae, fly west and tell me if you see anyone coming this way. We will be headed east toward the falls at the head of Bilberry River. You’ll find us there.”

“I will go! I will go!” Pouli cried, fluttering down from the rafters and landing on Fae’s head. “I will get the news first, because I am a good boy.” He puffed his head up and sang,

“Pouli is the swiftest bird, the fastest ever seen.

Pouli will find the threat! His eyes are very keen.”

While he was still singing, Raven opened the door, and Fae took off with Pouli still clinging to her head feathers. He gave an irritated screech as she ascended and tumbled off, catching himself in midair before shooting after her.

“I’m glad he has some competition,” Zoe stated. “It will do his ego good.”

“Unfortunately,” Raven replied. “Nothing does a bird’s ego any good. They are born narcissists.”

She grabbed her pack and walked out, motioning for Philothea and Zoe to follow. As Raven passed the lake, the ripples of the blue water began to give way to the ripples of tall grass bending in the wind. In a moment, the lake was gone, completely replaced by the sprawling green field that tricked Philothea the day before.

“I doubt that will fool Zeno,” Raven shrugged.

Philothea looked over her shoulder toward the house and then jumped in alarm when she couldn’t see it.

“I’m taking some extra precautions today,” Raven explained. “Now come on.”

She sprinted away into the woods with Philothea on her heels.

“Stay close,” she called. “I don’t want you to get lost in my illusions.”

Lost in her illusions? What was she talking about? Curiously, Philothea glanced over her shoulder. It was only a quick glance since she didn’t want to lose sight of Raven, but she could have sworn she saw a river behind her that wasn’t there before.

She glanced again. Yes, there definitely was a wide river splitting the wood she had just passed through. Not daring to look away while the landscape was changing, Philothea fixed her eyes on her mentor. As they ran, Raven enacted more subtle changes, trees and boulders moved position slightly in her wake.

They continued for what seemed like forever, until they came to a real river. Raven turned and ran along the bank for a while until she came to a pool at the base of a roaring waterfall. She flopped down next to a fallen log and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Well, that should make it difficult for anyone to follow us,” she explained as Philothea collapsed into a heap. Zoe fell out of the air like a tiny meteor landing hard on Philothea’s chest. Both girls lay for a moment where they’d fallen catching their breath.

Raven looked up at the blue sky above. “We’ll wait here for Fae. In the meantime…” She jumped to her feet. “Let’s see if you can restore that friend of yours.”

“Yes please!” Zoe begged.

“No!” Philothea panted, sitting up.

“Why not?” Zoe asked.

Philothea’s cheeks flushed. She knew if she gave her real reason, it would upset Zoe.

“Now is… not a good time…” Philothea answered.

Raven regarded her keenly. “We have as much time now as we’ll ever have. If it was Zeno I sensed, then he’s going to be close on our tails for a while.”

Philothea wrung her hands. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can!” Zoe shouted, puffing up.

Raven held up a hand to silence the bird, but her eyes were fixed on Philothea.

“I know why you haven’t been able to turn her back,” Raven stated.

Philothea bit her lip.

“It’s because you haven’t really tried.”

“I have!” Philothea objected.

“Oh I’m sure you pointed at her and said something like, ‘be human’, or some other nonsense like that. But I mean, you didn’t will it.”

“I didn’t…” Philothea started. She looked at Zoe. If Zoe had been human, she would have been watching Philothea with her usual blank expression. As a bird, her anger was written plainly in her spiked head feathers. Philothea let her gaze drop.

“No, I didn’t want to turn her back,” Philothea answered. She glanced up at Zoe who was apparently too angry or too flustered to say anything. “As long as she’s a bird, Zeno won’t notice her. Even if he finds me, she’ll just blend right into the woods.”

Zoe deflated. “He will notice me because I’ll be flying in his face trying to peck his eyes out,” she stated. “Do you really think that’d I’d just fly off and leave you alone? I’m supposed to be looking after you. You think I won’t at least try to do my job!”

Raven grinned and was about to add something when Pouli shot through the tree line and landed on her head.

“They took Fae!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Raven demanded, snatching Pouli off her hair. “Who took Fae?”

“Fae took Fae!” Pouli exclaimed. “The tricky fae are coming! Got to hide the baby!”

Raven swore. “This isn’t good. We’ve got to…”

She stopped short. Dark figures were emerging from the trees all around them.

One of the newcomers stepped forward in front of the others and stood looking at Raven. He threw his hood back to reveal a thin, deep brown face with vibrant blue eyes.

“Why are you messing with the wood, Raven?” the fae said. “I collided with a tree a moment ago.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” Raven offered.

“Maybe you should stop putting illusions in the middle of the forest,” the fae man answered.

“I’d love to ask how you found me, Finch, but I really don’t have time.”

“Is that…” Finch was suddenly looking at Philothea. “No, it can’t be.”

“I’m taking care of it,” Raven said, stepping in front of Philothea. “She won’t do us any harm.”

Another of the figures was regarding Philothea, a woman like Raven but with a rounder face. “It is, Finch!” she exclaimed. “It’s a half-blood.”

“We have to take her to King Avis,” Finch explained.

“I was just doing that,” Raven lied smoothly. “And I don’t need your help–”

“You can’t do this on your own, Raven,” the woman answered. “Who knows what she’s capable of.”

“I can handle myself,” Raven answered.

“That’s just it, you can’t!” the woman interrupted. “Why do you always insist on doing everything alone?”

They were closing in now, surrounding Philothea.

“She looks so innocent,” one of the strangers said.

“But you can feel it, can’t you?” another added. “That power is like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

“She’s just a little girl,” Raven answered. “Maybe someday she’ll have unlimited power or whatever, but right now, I can handle her just fine. Please go away.”

An invisible force cast Raven aside. She swore as she landed in a crumpled heap.

“That was uncalled for!” she exclaimed.

Finch was stepping up to Philothea.

“You had better come with us,” he ordered.

The Laughing Empress Chapter 11

The Challenge

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Raven was grumpy the next morning, but thankfully not grumpy enough to commit murder. Philothea woke to her new mentor thrusting a basket in her face and ordering her to go outside and collect eggs. Even though Philothea wasn’t worried about Raven killing her, she did find her very intimidating and did not hesitate to hop up and follow orders.

When she stepped out of the cottage door, she stopped, blinking at the unexpected landscape before her. Raven’s house stood on the bank of a massive lake. Philothea turned around and looked at the cottage. She was quite sure it was the one she had seen across the open field the day before. Why hadn’t she listened to Pouli? She spent a long minute rebuking herself in her mind. How could she be so foolish? Why hadn’t she at least proceeded slowly instead of charging forward?

She sighed and then started looking around for a chicken coop. It was tucked away behind the cottage. Philothea collected all the eggs she could find and then started back. The cottage was very near the shore, meaning that to get back in, Philothea had to pass a procession of hissing geese.

“Shoo!” she shouted at them, waving her arms.

The geese were not frightened, but luckily, they also weren’t interested in a full assault. They moved past Philothea, with each goose stopping in turn to hiss.

“Rude geese!” came Pouli’s voice. Philothea looked around, expecting to see him somewhere, but instead saw Fae perched on a branch beside the door. The raven continued using Pouli’s voice, “I am the bird supreme! I am a big bird! A handsome bird. I am a good boy.”

“That’s very good, Fae,” Philothea giggled. “You sound just like him!”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Fae laughed proudly. “I’m such a funny girl.”

When Philothea entered the house a moment later, Zoe was arguing with Raven.

“Look, I know I’m just a human, but there must be something I can give you in return,” Zoe was saying.

“I like you better this way,” Raven shrugged. “Besides, Phil was the one who turned you into a bird. I think it’s only fair that she turns you back.”

“Phil?” Philothea questioned.

“Look, if I called you Philothea every time I wanted to address you, I’d die of old age before we ever finished a conversation.”

“I like it,” Zoe stated. “I sort of wish I’d thought of it.”

In response to the look of horror that washed over Philothea’s face, Raven said, “Is Philly better?”

“Um, how about Thea?” Philothea blurted.

“Fine, Thea,” Raven shrugged.

“I’m still going to call you Phil,” Zoe stated.

“You call me Phil, and you’ll be a bird for the rest of your life,” Philothea threatened.

Raven grinned at Philothea. “You know something? I think I hate you less than most people.”

Philothea decided to take that as a compliment. “Thank you,” she smiled.

She worked with Raven to make eggs and toast. They gave the birds breadcrumbs, berries, and fishscraps. (Philothea doubted Zoe was going to touch the fishscraps but served them anyway.)

“Butter the toast,” Raven ordered Philothea, as they all took their places around the table.

Philothea looked around. “Where do you keep the butter?”

“I don’t have any.” Raven was regarding Philothea keenly, as she rested her chin on her laced fingers. “What are you going to do about it?”

Philothea furrowed her brow. “Do you, um, have cream?”

Raven looked at Philothea as if she had seriously suggested the sky was purple.

“I think she wants you to magic some butter onto the bread,” Zoe offered helpfully.

Raven rolled her eyes and gave an irritated little sigh. “Thank you, Zoe.”

“Oh,” Philothea realized. She pulled the ring out of her pocket and placed it on her finger. Raven jolted a little as if she could suddenly sense the power flowing into Philothea. She scrunched her brow, and taking Philothea’s hand, studied the ring thoughtfully.

“How interesting,” she mumbled.

“What?” Philothea giggled.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Raven mumbled. “Genius really.”

“What?” Zoe asked.

“Well, I can’t be sure,” Raven commented. “But if I had to guess, your mother suppressed your powers when you were still a helpless baby. Then left you this seal as a means of unlocking them.”

Philothea raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “So that news of a glowing baby wouldn’t get back to Zeno, that’s why.”

“Wait, she can glow?” Zoe asked hopefully.

Raven shrugged. “Probably. Though at the moment I am more interested in her ability to butter bread.”

She shot her student a pointed look.

Philothea turned her attention to the neat stack of sliced bread on the plate in the center of the table, then blushed. She always felt silly when she tried to do magic and dreaded the idea of making an attempt in front of an expert.

“I don’t know how,” Philothea confessed.

“Just try something,” Raven insisted. “Whatever comes to mind.”

“When I try it usually doesn’t work.”

“That’s alright,” Raven shrugged. “Just try anyway.”

Philothea’s face turned bright red, she looked down at the table.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbled.

“You know what else is embarrassing?” Raven asked flatly. “Getting murdered by Zeno. Which is exactly what’s going to happen to you if you don’t let me help you.”

Philothea felt her cheeks get hot. She looked at the bread again, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Thrusting a commanding finger at it, she exclaimed, “butter yourself!”

Raven burst out laughing, which of course made both Pouli and Fae laugh too.

Philothea giggled instinctively, but she wasn’t even slightly amused. What she wanted, was to disappear.

“You’re a funny girl,” Fae observed.

“You’re a funny girl,” Pouli added, from the rafters. He seemed to make a point of always perching at least a little higher up than Fae. Philothea thought he probably didn’t want to accept the fact that she was four times his height.

“Ho, ho, ho, I am a funny girl,” Fae agreed.

“You think that’s how magic works?” Raven grinned.

“I don’t know!” Philothea exclaimed. “I don’t know anything about magic!”

Raven’s mocking grin vanished, but a hint of amusement still glimmered in her eyes.

“Pick up your cup,” she ordered.

Philothea did so.

“How did you do that?” Raven asked.

“What?” Philothea was confused. “I…don’t know. I just did it.”

“Exactly,” Raven answered.

“Exactly,” Fae mimicked.

“I don’t understand.” Philothea was feeling completely overwhelmed.

“If you want your cup, you don’t point to it and say, ‘come here, cup!’ You just reach out and take it.”

“That is not remotely the same thing,” Zoe interjected, the feathers on her head puffing up. “No one teaches you how to use your arms, you just know how …by instinct or something.”

“No, you don’t ‘just know’” Raven corrected. “Have you ever watched a little baby trying to grab things? They have to spend months flailing their arms around, hitting themselves in the face, and knocking things over, before they can even hope to be successful.”

She turned her gaze from Zoe, back to Philothea.

“You, little one, are like a child who’s had her arms restrained since birth. You’re undeveloped, and it’s going to take a lot of work to correct that. It will be hard, and you’re going to feel ridiculous a lot of the time.”

Philothea felt a knot in her stomach. Raven picked up her cup and smiled. It wasn’t a mocking smile this time, it was a daring smile. She was inviting Philothea to a challenge.

“But if you endure the humiliation, one day magic will be so easy you’ll do it without a second thought.” She set the cup down. “So what will it be? Would you rather keep your ego intact and die by Zeno’s hand? Or will you let me shatter your pride so you can be truly great?”

Philothea wasn’t sure she wanted to be “truly great”. What she did want was to keep the people she loved safe. She thought of Keeper Ruth and the girls back at the temple. She thought of Zoe, and of her own parents. If there was a chance her powers could protect them, she had to try.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she replied.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” Fae observed. “Ho, ho, ho, so sweet.”

Philothea took a slice of bread and looked at it. Raven helpfully declined to say anything. She was just watching Philothea to see what she would do.

Philothea did think that toast with butter was preferable to toast without butter. But how was she supposed to create butter from nothing? The more she imagined the fatty-melty comforting substance the more she craved it. Especially after days of eating nothing but blackberries and stale bread.

Philothea let out a little gasp of alarm and dropped the bread when she felt something warm and oily running over her fingertips. The slice that had fallen to the table was drenched with enough melted butter to spread over two loaves.

“You really like butter, don’t you?” Raven observed.

“Well, yes, but… that’s a lot.” Philothea marveled.

Raven laughed. “You overdid it a little, but it was only a first try. Why don’t you let me handle the rest?”

Philothea was happy to do so.

“I’ll eat that piece,” Zoe offered, hopping toward the one Philothea dropped.

“No, you won’t,” Raven answered, pulling it out of her reach. “You’re a bird now. No milk.”

“What!” Zoe exclaimed, puffing up so much she was almost completely round. “I can’t have butter?”

“Nothing made from milk,” Raven stated. “You’ll get sick.”

“Then turn. me. back!”

“We’ll let Thea try after breakfast,” Raven replied. “Once we’ve packed and locked up the house.”

“Where are we going?” Philothea asked.

“Wherever you were going when you found me,” Raven answered. “I’d have to be an idiot to let you sit around in one place while Zeno is hunting you.” She polished off a piece of toast, then added, “And I’d hate to have you here if my relations show up to ask me where I’ve been, and what I’ve been doing, and why I’m not married yet.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why they keep coming back. I always give them the same answers: ‘I’ve been here, avoiding you, and that’s none of your business.’”

That comment brought a dull ache to Philothea’s heart. She was thinking of her sisters back at the temple. They made it their business to know everything about each other. They’d probably have a million questions when she came back… She wrung her hands. If she came back. She hoped to the very depths of her being that they were alright.