Anita ran in from the garden.

Zara was standing in the kitchen doorway, flanked by Rathina and Edric, her flowing Faerie gown a stark contrast to their everyday clothes. Her face was drained of color, but her eyes had a new light in them.

“Come in, Zara,” said Mrs. Palmer, pulling out a chair from the table. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel newborn. . . .” murmured Zara, sitting down.

“May I get you a drink?” Edric suggested, moving to the fridge.

Zara nodded. “By your courtesy, Master Chanticleer.”

Anita was aware of an air of suppressed excitement in the room, as though everyone was being careful not to overwhelm the pale princess with their attention.

Anita stepped forward, and Zara seemed to notice her for the first time.

“Tania!” she said, and her voice was strong and happy. “I have seen you so often in my mind—but I never dared hope to embrace you more!” She jumped up and ran into Anita’s arms.

“I don’t remember you. . . .” Anita said awkwardly, folding her arms stiffly around the girl. “I’m sorry.” She gave Edric an uneasy look over Zara’s back.

“It matters not,” said Zara. “You were in the same pickle when first you came into Faerie. And a merry time we had of it convincing you of your birthright then!”

“Indeed,” Rathina added, smiling. “Most stubborn you were!”

“There is no need of persuasion this time,” said Zara. “Be seated, sister mine, and we shall see what we shall see.”

“I’m sorry?” Anita said.

Zara laughed. “Sit! Sit! I would run barefoot through your mind.” Quite gently, but purposefully, she pressed Anita into a chair. “I will return your memories to you, Tania. I have new skills now that I am . . .” She paused, her face clouding for a moment. “But no matter. Let’s to business.”

Anita looked anxiously at Edric.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, resting the forgotten glass of milk on the table and crouching at her side. “And if this works . . .”

“I’ll remember?”

He nodded.

Jade looked dubious. “Is this going to be like one of those TV shows where some guy hypnotizes people into thinking they’re chickens?” she asked.

“Hush,” Rathina murmured. “I know not what is coming.”

The kitchen became silent. Anita was aware of all eyes on her. Her father and mother were standing together at the back door, watchful but unspeaking.

Anita felt Zara’s hands come down lightly upon her head.

For a few moments nothing happened. Then Zara began very softly to sing.

As Zara sang, Anita felt warmth rippling through her from the princess’s gentle hands. It seemed to her that Zara’s voice was joined by others—soft, dulcet voices and deep, sonorous voices all singing counterpoint and descant to the aching melody until her head was filled with song.

An image poured into her mind like a flow of soft golden light. Endless green hills folding away to a blue horizon. And herself—hand-in-hand with Zara—running through the tall grass. Looking about them as they ran. Searching for something. It was an early morning and the dew was like honey on her bare feet and the singing was all around them.

“It is not enough.” Zara’s voice was a sharp knife through the song. “I cannot do this thing alone. Master Edric—take her hand now.”

Anita’s heart throbbed in her chest. A warm hand slipped into hers, and she felt enveloped in a deep love and understanding. In her vision she turned her head, seeing with a rush of joy that Edric had appeared at her side, running through the pastures with her, searching with her.

“And yet more,” said Zara. “Master Clive, Mistress Mary—lay your hands upon your daughter—she is in need of your love.”

Anita felt hands coming to rest on her arms. From the blue infinity of the sky, her Mortal mother and father appeared beside her—running with her. Her heart filled with happiness.

“Sister—she needs more. And you, Mortal girl, come, join the dance, let none hold back when all are needed.”

Suddenly Rathina was there at her side in her vision, and Jade, also, staring around as though stunned to find herself in such a place.

Is this real, then? I thought it was all in my head. . . .

They were no longer running now. They were upon a hilltop crowned with huge blue crystals that threw out a vibrant light. It was night—a night of huge and pulsing stars. They were in a ring, hand-in-hand, dancing in a circle among the shining stones. The air was like spice and the grass was alive beneath their feet.

Anita could feel the love of her family rushing through her. The love of her mother and father, the love of Jade and her Faerie sisters; and deepest of all, like a warm hand that cradled her heart, the love of her own Edric.

Faster and faster they whirled, forming a chain that threaded in and out among the great blue crystal stones.

Then there was no ground beneath her feet. She was soaring upward through the night.

She was winged, alone, suspended in darkness, surrounded by stars.

Every star was a memory, rushing at her in a hail of sharp light, pouring into her eyes, filling her mind.

She saw a vision of a solemn-eyed, brown-haired girl with a sighing voice. “He had a mausoleum of white stone built to honor our mother. . . .”

Herself, kneeling on a forest path, clutching a leather-bound book.

That same sad voice, but terrified now. “I am in a small dark room, in a hovel, lying in a bed with filthy sheets over me. . . .”

She saw Zara and herself being helped into a rowboat by a man in sky blue livery. A silver galleon lay at anchor in a wide bay.

A freckled girl with red-gold hair cut at the shoulder. “Are there cows in the Mortal World?” she was asking.

Edric’s voice. “I’ve got house keys and some coins on me. . . .”

A riptide of gray unicorns with mauve manes and purple eyes.

A withered heath. A battle. Herself standing, a sword in her fist. The memories were coming at her too fast. There were too many—too insistent—heaping into her mind until she was lost under the weight of them.

Screaming and clawing, she felt herself drowning in memories.

The last thing she saw was a great whaleback of white rock jutting out into a crashing ocean. . . .

Tania was in a boat on a wide dark river. It was night. She knew there were other people with her, although she could not see them. She could hear uneasy horses. The stamp of a hoof. A snort in the darkness at her back. Was this a dream or another memory?

A woman stood before her. An ageless woman in a dark cloak. A woman with a sweet, round-cheeked face and clear blue eyes.

The woman spoke gently. “Do not fear. You are strongest where you are split—and I see your many selves, plucked out of time, coming together to heal you when your need is greatest.” The woman released Tania’s hand, and she and the boat and the river began to drift away.

“No, wait!” Her own voice was shrill in her ears. “What does that mean? I don’t understand!”

She was being held down, stifled in a dark place. Panic erupted through her as she struggled and fought, unable to escape, unable to breathe.

There was a pale light above her. She clawed frantically in the darkness. She had to get to the light. She had to.