Drawtober 2025: Enchanted Masquerade

Dearest Maggie,

The Queen’s Roads led straight and true through the shadowed veils of Faerie. Even so, I don’t believe we should have been able to navigate them without Blue guiding us. Some enchantment runs over this place, compelling one to turn off the road at every opportunity. It is not a place meant for mortals or even for common Fae. Only Blue, whose feet never touched the road and whose little candle marks her as a messenger of the Queen, kept us from sliding off into some forgotten corner of the Other Country.

It is hard to say how long we walked those roads. It could not have been more than a day, but it felt much longer than that. My feet began to ache, and Danny kindly lifted me to sit upon his shoulder—the one opposite of where Blue sometimes perched, for she is still quite angry about my “thieving ways.” The landscape changed as we went—the desolate grays and browns of Melomere gave way to earthy greens, then startling reds and oranges. We passed briefly through a glen where the freezing cold of winter edged everything in ice, and then wound our way through what seemed to be an ancient battlefield. In the distance, I saw the ghostly figures of knights battling each other and couldn’t help wondering how long they had been crossing swords.

Eventually, Blue chirped an instruction to Danny, and we turned from the main road we had been following. A narrow track led through the hills, passing through a forest of gold and silver trees that chimed when their branches touched. By then, I knew where we were, and I knew we were getting close. I had a realization, then, that I didn’t really expect this to work. In a strange way, I wished I’d stayed in Melomere, for facing that barren land seemed less frightening than standing before the Queen once more.

In a little while, I tapped Danny on the ear and asked him to set me down beside a nearby stream. I was quite bedraggled by this point—leaves and twigs cluttered my hair, and dirt had built up on my hands and elbows. My clothes, too, were well passed when they could use a wash, and once I stripped out of them, I balled them up and left them in a little pile near the hollow of a tree. Whatever happened, I knew I wouldn’t be coming back for them.

I washed in the freezing stream, dousing my hair and scrubbing my skin with sand from the riverbed. I combed my hair with one of those enchanted combs we had from Glenfarthing, if you remember him, so that it shone dark and lustrous. Then, I pulled out the dress.

I didn’t describe it to you before, did I Mags? Rook wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Evangeline makes marvelous things. The gown is a burnished red, the color of maple leaves in autumn. Golden lace threaded with sparkling jewels frames the neckline, and the sleeves balloon out, like the dresses those Rossetti paintings. The skirt is layered so that it flares at the waist and swishes when I walk, and it felt like armor to put it on, to wear it like an ward against my own foolishness. I felt a surge of gratitude to Rook, and even to Blue, for insisting on a gown, and then a surge of something else. Fear? Trepidation? Anticipation? Blue said that Rook had gone to the Queen. I might see him there, at the ball. He would never be so stupid as to ask for a boon in front of the whole Court, but I’d never known him to pass up a party.

While I had been getting ready, so had Danny. Returning from the stream, I found the troll had trimmed the trees and bushes along his body. The carvings on his arms, which I had not noticed before, were clean of moss and lichen, making them all the more sharp and precise in the moonlight. He smiled his slow smile when he saw me, nodding approvingly. Even Blue had the decency to look mildly impressed. Mildly.

“You are ready now,” the troll said.

“I suppose so,” I replied, because there was no other answer. He offered me his hand, scooping me into his palm and setting me atop his shoulder once more, before stepping back onto the road.

The Queen’s palace rises out of the landscape suddenly, a mountain you somehow hadn’t noticed before. I heard once that the structure was grown, not built, and I would believe it. Towers swirl around each other like tree limbs, and the domes seem made of frost and ice. Faerie fire illuminated the inside as we approached, making the place glow like an ember. The music—for there is always music here—was audible even from far down the hill. Lilting tunes of pipes and drums and strings that begged one to dance.

We joined a throng of Folk in all their various forms heading up to the palace gates. Fauns bedecked in flowers, naiads with dripping gowns, and nixies with gleaming teeth. There were a few trolls like Danny, towering above the rest, as well as brownies darting between the larger Folk. I even spotted a few mortals in the crowd—human girls and boys with ivy in their hair and dreamy looks upon their faces. I might have been wearing one of those myself if I’d had a heart to enchant.

The crowd moved swiftly, a river flowing up a hill, to a drawbridge. Nearby, long tables of masks lined the bridge. The faces of black cats and robins peered up, empty-eyed, as guests snatched up masks for themselves before proceeding into the hall. Danny took the mask of a chipmunk. It sat, comically small atop his enormous nose.

I took the mask of a fox.

#

There is a rhythm to occasions like the Queen’s ball. A set of predetermined motions, the movements of a dance practiced for centuries past. The giving of boons always comes early in the evening. That way when the revels truly begin, some will bask in their fortune and other wallow in misery, and everyone around them will have gossip enough to fill the night until morning. I’d like to chalk it up to the capricious nature of the Fae, but I know better than that. Everyone loves to gossip.

The Queen’s Hall had changed since last I’d been there. I remembered a vaulted chamber of marble and onyx with statues staring down from hollows in the walls. When I entered tonight, stepping lightly beside Danny, it was a different place entirely. Instead of stone, trees twisted into high arches. Moonlight filtered through the branches, though outside the sun had not yet fully set, and the smell of smoke and cinnamon filled the air. Little furniture was to be seen, giving way to a wide floor of cracked stone for dancing. At the farthest end of the room, a dais rose a few steps above the floor. An empty throne of thorns and wilting roses rested on it.

Hundreds of others guests crowded in before and behind us, all of them masked. Owls and oak trees, boars and badgers, painted faces swirled together. The sight of it made me dizzy. I was grateful for my own mask, then—I didn’t want anyone to see how off-balance I was. Walking beside Danny at least ensured that I wasn’t swept away by the throng. The troll stepped carefully but even his cautious steps required there to be room. I walked beside him, close enough to benefit from his size but not so close as to risk being squashed by his stony feet.

Almost as soon as we entered, Blue flew from Danny’s shoulder and soared up into the rafters, disappearing. I watched her go mostly with relief. She could tell the Queen. Reveal my presence and my intentions. It made no difference now—I was here. There would be no turning back.

A deep bell rang somewhere in the chamber soon after we entered. The noise of the crowd quieted, and hundreds of masked faces turned to the dais. To the empty throne. A chill wind swept over us all, sending the branches rattling overhead.

And there she was.

The Queen of Faerie did not walk to her throne. She was simply there, as though she always had been, leaning her cheek upon one hand and surveying us all with a curious smile. Everything about her was sharp, jagged, horribly beautiful. A crown—frost shot through with silver—sat atop raven hair. Her gown was of the morning mist, the autumn dew, the cruel breath of winter made manifest. I found myself looking away as quickly as I could, for it felt like I might be blinded if I regarded at her for too long.

She raised a hand, and one of her courtiers stepped forward, no doubt to announce that boons would be dispensed. But before he could, a figure stepped out of the crowd. Black coat, black mask, white feathered collar. I will give you two guesses who it was, Mags.

My throat closed when I saw Rook standing there. In the Queen’s Hall, beneath the towering trees, surrounded by so many Folk, he looked fragile somehow. Dangerously so.

The courtier who was going to speak looked angry, ready to chastise him, but the Queen merely raised long-fingered hand to quiet him.

“My Queen,” Rook said.

“My Rook.” She smiled when she said his name.

“I have done as you asked. I have kept the mortal Penelope Fay from stealing into your home this night. I would thus seek a boon from you, in honor of the service I have done.”

The Queen smiled like the sun coming out of the clouds. “What do you desire?”

“You have a heart in your keeping that I would have.”

“Whose?”

“That of Penelope Fay.”

If I’d had a heart, it would have been in my throat. My ears began to ring, my fingers and toes to tingle. My heart. My heart. Why ask for my heart?

The Queen cocked her head. “A mortal heart is a delicate thing. Easily broken, difficult to mend. Quick to stop. There are brighter, more eternal things you could ask for.”

“And yet her heart is what I request.”

The moment stood balanced on the edge of a knife. I don’t know which way it would have fallen if fate had not intervened. If a tiny bird, bright blue against the trees, had not fluttered down to land on the Queen’s shoulder and whisper in her ear. If the Queen had not turned and, somehow, set her eyes on me.

“Alas, I think you are mistaken Rook. I think you are very much mistaken indeed.”

One moment I stood half-hidden behind Danny’s leg, and the next I stood beside Rook. I nearly fell with the dizzying change, but he caught my elbow, kept me from falling. Behind his mask, horror and relief warred in his eyes.

“Penelope Fay.” The Queen stared down at me, Blue perched on her shoulder. Her expression was cold, but I thought I caught a glimmer of satisfaction there. “You found your way here after all.”

My throat had gone dry, words shriveling on my tongue. There had been a plan, but I felt it slipping through my fingers. Rook was not supposed to be here. Rook was supposed to be smarter than me. But apparently he wasn’t. Because from the sound of it, he’d already made his own bargain long before he even ran into me in Dogmore. An agreement to keep me away from the ball, which he had now failed to do.

The Queen clucked her tongue and looked at Rook, who was still staring at me with that dumbfounded expression. “Such a pity,” she murmured. Then, she snapped her fingers.

Branches surged from the ground, causing nearby guests to stumble back. They wrapped around Rook and dragged him forward. He tried to struggle out, but they held him fast, forcing him to his knees in front of the Queen.

“Alas that you agreed not to tell her what you intended to bargain for,” the Queen purred. “Imagine it. She might have stayed where she was, if you had only told her that you hoped to steal her heart back.”

That word—steal. It lodged in my brain like a thorn. It had been spoken earlier this night. It was important. I had to remember why it was important, and I had to remember it quickly.

“Ah well, Rook. It was a fine try. I enjoyed playing with you immensely.” Her hand gripped his chin. I didn’t know what she would take from him. His heart? His wits? His soul? The Queen does not make bargains without knowing she will win either way.

The ballroom was roiling behind me, the Folk laughing, hooting, carousing. An execution so early in the night was a gift to them, something to talk of for weeks to come. What a show, what a show. I had to do something. I had to do something now.

“WAIT.”

I do not know how I managed to yell so loudly. It took hold like a spell of its own, settling over the crowd, crystallizing the moment. The Queen look up with an arched eyebrow.

“Have you something to say, Penelope Fay?”

“I didn’t steal into your home,” I said. “I was invited.”

A ripple of surprise. Blue immediately jumped up from where she was perched. “Liar!” she screeched. “Liar! You took that invitation from me! It was never meant for you.”

“But it was,” I said, keeping my eyes on the Queen.

“Then prove it,” Blue snapped. “Show it! Show it!”

Rumbling behind me as Danny moved through the crowd. He stopped behind me and bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “I hold the mortal’s…invitation for her.” He plucked it from where it had been sitting beneath a boulder on his back and handed it to me. I unfolded it, and thank God my hands did not shake, and thank God too that Grandmama shared a name with me. For there it was, written in the glowing ink of Faerie, the same name I had seen when I snatched the invitation weeks ago.

Penelope Fay.

#

I had to be sure, Mags, that it was her invitation. I’m sure you’re shaking your head at me. I could have just waited for the invitation to be delivered. I could have been less impetuous. All that is true. But I couldn’t run the risk that the messenger would see me and know the truth—that the Penelope Fay to whom the message was addressed had died nearly a year before.

It was perhaps foolish, but it was the only idea I had. I hope that Grandmama would have approved of it. She always did like a good trick.

I think perhaps even the Queen enjoyed it, though I couldn’t tell you for certain. I was shaking so badly by the time she released Rook that my teeth were chattering together. She spoke to him in a low, amused voice before handing him something and pushing towards me. Rook looked as dazed as I felt, but he took my arm anyway and both of us hurried through the throng of people.

“Where are we—” I started to ask, but he cut me off.

“Hush. You’ve gotten away with quite a bit tonight. No need to tempt fate further.”

We left the palace behind us, hurrying over the drawbridge and over the hill. We did not stop until the place disappeared behind us and the road wound through that forest once again. There, at last, we slowed at Rook released my arm.

We stared at each other for a brief moment in the moonlight. He looked a little worse for wear, his suit torn where the vines had ripped it, and the expression on his face was more vulnerable than I’d ever seen it. That, more than anything else, made me absolutely furious with him.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?” I demanded.

He blinked, startled. “What—”

“You were the one always telling me how dangerous bargains were, and then you go stumbling into one yourself. I cannot decide if you are hypocrite or just mad.”

“Pen—”

“And then to not even bother trying to tell me of it, not once! For years I thought you were terribly clever, but oh how mistaken I was, you are an idiot—”

“Pen!” He was standing before me, had grabbed my shoulder. “Pen, stop. Look.” He opened his other hand to me, showing me what the Queen had placed there. It was, of course, a peach that was not a peach. It throbbed dully in his hand.

“This is yours,” he said quietly, holding it out to me. “Consider it my apology for what happened with Arthur.”

Though I wanted to, I didn’t immediately take the peach. “You told him that I’d bargained away my heart.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Behind his mask, Rook’s face twisted. “Because he was going to leave you. He had already decided. I told him about your heart to convince him to stay, to show him how much you had given up for him. I hoped that would be enough.”

“You hated him.”

“But I cared for you. I always have, Pen-cap. I didn’t want to see you get your heart broken after you’d bargained it away for him. When I told him, though, your Arthur thought it would be that much easier to leave you. He thought you wouldn’t feel it.”

“Why give it back to me?” I asked. “You could keep it yourself. A kind of trophy.”

“It’s not a trophy I want. Not like this. Not if you haven’t given it to me.”

“And if I never give it to you?”

“Then I will have to content myself with knowing that at least you haven’t sold it for someone else.”

Mags, I took the peach from him. It pounded dully in my hands before I bit into it. It burned as I swallowed, but I swallowed anyway. I took bite after bite until the peach was gone and only the pit remained. I felt a warmth in my chest, a heaviness long absent. Grief and sorrow and love all flooded back to me. Grief for Grandmama, sorrow for Arthur, and love. So much love it felt like I might burst. It was horrible. It was wonderful. It was the best and worst thing in the world.

#

I am coming home tomorrow, Maggie. It took longer than I expected to find a way back, even with Rook beside me. He is over my shoulder now as I write this—it is to him I owe some of the details I would otherwise have forgotten. He says to tell you he misses you.

I miss you, too. Tomorrow, I will tell you in person.

Your loving sister,

Penelope