valsombraEvelyn reached into her pocket and found the ring: smooth and black, cold to the touch, and heavy in the hand. "You left this on the pyre at my mother's funeral. Why?"
"A debt was owed. Your mother died before I could repay it."
"So you gave her this?"
"That's right. My most precious belonging."
"What is it?"
"A binding ring. Used by faeries in their weddings. It allows the wearer to travel between our world and the lands of the fairy courts."
Evelyn felt the weight of it. She didn't know such a thing existed. "How did you get it?"
"It was given to me by the Prince-in-Spring--long ago when I was young and beautiful and full of bad ideas."
"You met the Prince-in-Spring?"
"Met him and married him. In the manner of the woods."
"He didn't skin you?"
"No. Not Salamandra Hedge. Too clever for any man, immortal or otherwise. I am Skraefolk--like you--chosen by the stars. The stars wanted a story from me, so I gave them one."
"Tell me your story!" Evelyn begged, edging closer. Salamandra Hedge grinned slyly in her direction. The old woman's milk-white eyes, blind as they were, brimmed with laughter.
"You want to know about how I came to marry the Prince-in-Spring?"
"Of course!"
"And what will you give me."
Evelyn did not hesitate. "The most precious thing of all."
Salamandra Hedge clucked her tongue. "Most precious, eh? And what is that?"
"Time."
The blind seer flashed a crooked, toothless smile. "Ahh--a good and clever girl. You are Skraefolk, aren't you? That was the very deal I made so long ago--traveling with a caravan on the Ostern Road. I lived as a boy then, and made my living as a scout in the service of the merchant legion."
Evelyn regarded her with some skepticism. "You were a boy?"
"Mm. A disguise--nothing more. You cannot always tell with people."
"What happened?"
The old woman laughed. "Youth. Lust. I caught the eye of two men traveling with the caravan. Tomas, a merchant prince, soft and sweet and smart as could be--and Asmer, an older man--a falcon handler, with tough, strong hands and a thirst for danger."
"You loved them both?"
"I loved the attention. Loved to be chased. I was raised to be a hunter; it was nice to be hunted. Of course, I think that was what called the faerie prince to us. Deep in his barrows he smelled love thickening the air--and because the Prince-in-Spring cannot resist competition, he joined the hunt."