Oboe broke her promise.

After years and years of trying her hardest to be good, she did it again. She enchanted a human. The magic slipped out. She lost control. She changed Percy into a hawk and grew stronger doing it, just like before. It didn’t matter that she changed him back. It didn’t matter that the prince and Theo forgave her. Sooner or later the whole kingdom would know. She broke her promise.

The other fairies were right. She deserved to be shunned and thrown away. She was wicked. There was no use denying it. The realization crushed her, but it wasn’t kind enough to kill her.

Oboe stared at the threshold. It was a bend in space between the trees that led to the Circle. It was where she was born and where her family lived. It was where she belonged. For most of her live she yearned to go back, to cross over, but she knew the cost was too great.

Today she was ready to pay the price. She stepped through.

The sight of the green sky was too much. She wanted to cry but her eyes were already too sore and red from weeping. The orchards of the Outer Circle stretched ahead of her. Fauns, laborers with juice-stained mantles, were hard at work collecting the late-summer harvest. The one nearest gasped when she saw Oboe. She dropped her basket and apples spilled across the ground.

“What’re you doing?!” Her mane was tied back. Her violet eyes darted toward the other workers. “You can’t be here!”

Oboe said nothing. Seeing other fauns made her feel naked. The feeing never went away no matter how hard she ignored it.

“Nameless!” The farmer called to the others in disgust. “There’s a nameless here!”

The others froze, watching with anger and caution. One of the taller ones marched up.

“You don’t belong here!” He said. “Get out or I’ll call the spriggan!”

Oboe wished the humans had killed her. It would’ve been better than coming here and seeing the way these fauns looked at her. It would’ve been easier than facing grandmother again after breaking her promise. Oboe was scared. She wanted to run away but she knew running away would be worse. Running meant living with the guilt. It meant knowing all the things others whispered about her were true.

“Call the spriggan,” Oboe said. “I’ll wait.”

The farmers shot confused looks at one another. When it was clear she wasn’t going to leave, they rushed to send word. A magic flare was fired into the air, whistling like a firework.

It was only a matter of time now. Oboe went to the well to wait, and admired the wooded village that was once her home. It was hard to look at the cute little homes with their gardens and mailboxes and not wonder how different life could’ve been.

It would’ve been kinder if grandmother had killed her at the tournament of titles. It was hard to live as a nameless. Sometimes the shunning was more than she could bear. Thistle was her friend, at least, but she knew deep down that he was only her friend out of pity. Even so, she was grateful. He was all she had. Until Theo came along, anyway. She smiled. Theo was good and sweet. He’d done everything he could to fix the mess she’d made. But there was no way for him to fix this when Oboe was the problem.

The furies came. A whole troop swooped to surround her, with polished leather armor bearing the symbol of an acorn with a keyhole on it. They unsheathed knives from the holsters strapped to their legs, poised to attack.

“Nameless are forbidden in the Circle! Why have you come?”

Oboe held her hands out in surrender. “I want to see the Fair Lady!” She said. “I wish to face judgment!”

“It’s not fair,” the werewolf said. “I know we’ve got our own customs, and they’re fine, but what you have is different and I like it. Is that so wrong? I just want to have the experience!”

“Deputy, are you listening?”

Theodore snapped his attention back to the werewolf couple. He was distracted, staring at the small toy knight on his desk again. He coughed and reshuffled the papers on his disheveled desk. Work piled up while his mind was elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” He said, embarrassed.

The werewolves glanced at one another. The male was named Barghest and Theodore was familiar with him. He was a large black shaggy breed with big red eyes. His mate was smaller, with sleek gray fur and a long narrow snout. Theodore spent most of the meeting skirting around the fact that he’d forgotten her name. Barghest had spent the last ten minutes struggling to articulate the reason why the two of them had come.

“Erm, so as I was saying…” Barghest’s face went blank. He turned to his mate. “What was I saying again?”

“The short version, then. You humans have nice weddings. Singing, fancy clothes, chapels—”

“Sweet cakes!” Barghest said.

She sighed. “Yes, my love. With crème frosting, yes. I know.” She folded her clawed hands in her lap. “They’re beautiful ceremonies. We ghasts have our own, of course. Barghest and I had had our shadows joined by candlelight years ago. But this oaf has wanted a human wedding ever since he heard about them.”

Barghest looked hurt. “I thought you wanted it too!”

“I think it’s a lovely ritual, if a bit silly,” she said. “This is your idea, but I know how happy it would make you.” She rested a hand on him. “That’s why we should do it.”

“Awww, Lola!”

There was her name. Relieved, Theodore resolved not to forget it this time. He picked through the mess on his desk to find a clean piece of paper and something to write with.

“Do you have visas?”

Lola grimaced. “He does. His haunting territory is near the North gate. But mine is all the way up the trade road, so they won’t give me one. No working need, they said.”

Theodore started a list of things needed to make this happen. “You’ll need a short-term pass cleared for the ceremony. I can get that for you, but it will be a challenge to pick out a venue or rehearse if you can’t come and go as you need. Then there’s catering, musicians, florists…” Theodore scratched his stubble, frowning. “Most will refuse to work for ghasts. This is going to be tricky.”

Barghest tugged at his chin hairs. “Maybe we can’t do this. It’s too hard, and we haven’t got much money.”

“Shut up!” Lola shoved him. “I don’t want to hear talk like that. You’re worth it. Now Deputy, I know this is a lot of work, but can you help us? Can you make this work?”

Theodore mentally ran through the logistics of planning a wedding alongside the backlog of other cases, and felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “It will be a long time before I can even try. I’ve fallen very behind since I lost my partner.”

Barghest jumped out of his chair. “Oh! I’m so sorry! Oh my devil. I can’t imagine losing my mate.” He pulled Theodore into a crushing hug. “You must be so sad! And here we are telling you to help us.”

“No, no. You misunderstand,” Theodore said, flustered. He wiggled free and straightened his shirt. “It’s a professional relationship. She’s my assistant.”

Lola looked around at the state of the room office and opened her mouth like she’d solved a puzzle. “You miss her.”

“I’m just worried,” He said with a huff. “She left very suddenly and I’ve heard nothing in days.”

“Then why are you here?” Barghest said. “If you’re concerned then you ought to go make sure she’s okay!”

Did Oboe want to be found? She was so upset when she flew off. Theodore thought she needed space. He hoped she would come back once she had time to cool off, but that hadn’t happened. Now he was staring at his desk and arranging the pencils to work off fresh worry. “I want to look for her, but I have a lot of work to do.”

Lola reached over and flicked a pencil away. “You’re no good to us like this. Go find her.”

Barghest nodded. “We can wait. If your friend is missing, you should check on her!”

They were right. There was no denying his work performance was unacceptable. It was irresponsible of him not to resolve this sooner. He stood up.

“You’re right. Thank you. I promise I’ll look into your wedding as soon as I have the opportunity.” He pinned his badge to his chest, pocketed his travel stationary kit, and fixed his tie.

“Go on!” Barghest said. “Get out there!”

Theodore slipped the toy knight into his chest pocket, and stepped out his front door into the Whirlwood. Oboe was out there somewhere. Now it was a matter of finding her.

“Oboe? That faun?” The rabbits sat up. A pair of satin cotton tails, Angus and Bridget. “Last time we saw her she was with you.”

“That’s where she always is!” Angus said, the smaller of the two. “Why are you asking us where she’s at?”

Theodore sighed. “She ran off. Turned into a blue bird and flew away. Are you sure you haven’t heard anything?”

Bridget bent her ears forward. “You ought to ask some birds then. They got eyes all over the place and are awful gossips. Won’t ever shut up. One of them is bound to know something.”

“I tried that,” Theodore said. “I’ve been running around all day asking whole flocks and no one has seen anything.”

“Well, maybe she has some friends you could ask?”

“Don’t be dull, Angus!” Bridget said, nipping at him. “She won’t have any of those! The fairies get mad if you spend too long around a nameless.”

“Nameless?” Theodore felt like he’d heard that before. “Is that what the outcasts are called?”

“Oh, are you not familiar?” Bridget said, sniffing. “Yeah. That’s something the Fairy Circle does so you know who the criminals are. That’s why no reputable creature would associate with the likes of her. Well, not until you came along and made her your pet anyway.”

“Oboe is not a pet!” Theodore said. “She’s not a criminal, either!”

Angus scratched himself. “Nothing wrong with being a pet. Seems like a good gig, if you can get it.”

Theodore remembered Fern the crone making accusations that Oboe enchanted a human a long time ago. It was something he never got the chance to talk to Oboe about. It didn’t matter, though. Whatever happened before, he knew that wasn’t who Oboe was now.

“I’m sure the Circle had their reasons,” Bridget said. “Not that it’s rabbit business. Point is, you won’t find anybody who’d cross the fairies to befriend some bum faun.”

That wasn’t true. Theodore knew one other person who was Oboe’s friend: Thistle, the cantankerous old sylph. Theodore wished he’d thought of him sooner.

“Thank you,” Theodore said. “This gives me something to go on.”

It took some research to find Thistle. The old sylph lived alone near Moss Tub lake. Theodore was forced to traipse through stagnant pools and reeds to reach the entrance of a limestone cave. Junk was piled up everywhere: Crates, barrels, piles of saucepans, bottles, books, and rusted blacksmith tools. There were no fewer than six bicycles in various states of disrepair and two tattered old baby carriages. Theodore took great care to navigate through the junk, but still managed to bump into one of the piles. Saucepans came crashing down, making a racket.

“Who’s there?!” A gruff voice called out. “Who’s touching my stuff?!”

Thistle leapt out from around the bend of the tunnel wielding a broomstick. He buzzed through the air and perched on the tallest pile of garbage to gain the high ground. He aimed the broom like a halberd. Theodore held his hands up in surrender.

“It’s me! The Ranger Deputy! I’m not here to hurt you!”

The old sylph stared a moment, and scowled. His carapace was cracked down the middle and ragged along the edges. He looked as scrappy as the home lived in. He let out a grunt and threw his broomstick into a random pile. “What d’ya want?”

Theodore lowered his arms. “I’m looking for Oboe. Have you seen her?”

Thistle’s sneer faded, just a little. “No. I haven’t seen her. What, she’s not with you? That’s how she spends all her time these days. Not that I care.” He folded two sets of arms. “Child always had too much energy. Needed someone her own age to harass. Fah.”

“She hasn’t been here?” Theodore’s heart sank. “I was hoping you’d seen her. She ran off days ago and I’m worried.”

“Oh yeah?” Thistle twitched his antenna. “Did you finally get sick of her? Only way she ever left me alone was if I lost my temper. She’ll come back.”

“No, nothing like that.” Theodore wondered how good of a friend Thistle could be. He stepped closer across the clutter. “She was upset. She’d used magic on a human.”

“Whaaaat?!” Thistle jerked in shock and the pile of rubbish collapsed under his feet and buried him. “What?? No!” He burst out, eyes wide. “Mother of Magic, tell me this is a joke!”

Theodore bent down to help him up. “What’s wrong? Why are you shrieking?” Thistle grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him close. “If she enchanted a human that means she broke her promise! She’s going to turn herself into the Fairy Circle! They’re going to execute her!!”

Theodore followed Thistle. He flew through the cave into a honeycomb chamber. The walls and floor were covered with a soft, moldering wax here. It was less cluttered, perhaps because the room saw more traffic. There was a bare mattress on the floor and a workbench jumbled with tools. Shelves were crammed to overflowing with corked bottles of ingredients. The air was spicy from the scent of hanging herbs: mustard, saffron, frankincense, and a sour tinge of rot.

“How long has Oboe been gone?” Thistle’s tone was accusatory.

“About four days,” Theodore said.

He cringed. “Devil damn you, human! You should have told me the moment it happened! They’ve probably already killed her!” He chewed his finger-pincers, hovering. “No. I can’t think like that. There’s still hope. They might still be torturing her.”

Theodore did a double take. “Torture?!” He grabbed Thistle out of the air. “What’s going on?! Why do the fairies want to hurt Oboe!?”

Thistle shoved Theodore out of his face. “It’s like this: when Oboe was just a kid, she transformed a human. That ticked the Fair Lady off. Said she’d kill Oboe if she ever did it again.”

Theodore stared a moment before setting Thistle down on a work bench. “That’s why she’s nameless.”

“Oh, did you figure that part out?” Thistle grimaced. “She was worried you would.”

“What does being a nameless mean?” Theodore said. “I understand she’s an outcast, but isn’t her name Oboe?”

“It means they took her family name, nitwit.” Thistle rolled all four of his eyes. “She used to be part of the Woodwind family. I don’t know about humans, but with fairies having your name taken is a big deal. Any creature that gives a damn about the Fairy Circle, and that’s near everybody, is going to shun you. Oboe was just a kid when it happened to her. She’s had a complex about it ever since.”

Looking back, that explained a lot. Theodore never understood how someone so friendly could also be so lonely. “Why would the fairies punish a child so severely? That’s… monstrous.”

“Hey! Watch it!” Thistle jabbed him in the stomach. “I don’t go to your house and tell humans how corrupt their government is!” He paused. “But to answer your question, the Whirlwood Circle is run by monsters and hypocrites.”

Theodore rubbed at his headache. “What do I need to do to help Oboe?”

The old sylph wrung his hands, thinking. “Okay. Here’s the plan.”

“Okay…?”

Thistle hesitated. “You’re going to go to the Circle, and then you’re going to tell them to let Oboe go.”

“That’s it?” Theodore said, unconvinced. “Just, let her go?”

Thistle threw his arms in the air. “I don’t know! You’re the Ranger Deputy, aren’t you? The treaties say they have to listen to you! Do you have a better idea?”

Theodore had to admit he did not. “Alright,” He said. “I’ll try. How do I find the Fairy Circle? Is it in the Whirlwood?”

“You don’t know?!” Thistle buried his face in all four of his hands. “Yes, it’s in the valley!! Obviously! How do you not know? Why did they hire you?”

It was something Theodore wondered himself most days. “I’ve lived here for months, but I’ve never even seen the Fairy Circle.”

Thistle growled. “Of course you haven’t seen it. It’s in folded space. You can’t get there unless you know how to find it.”

“Folded space?” Theodore said. “What are you talking about?”

The sylph’s face froze in contempt. He scuttled off the table and tore through kitchen drawers, throwing the contents aside, until he found a pencil and paper.

“Short version.” He placed the parchment on the table. “This is the valley.” He drew a circle. “This is the fairy circle. You following me so far, genius?”

Theodore nodded, trying to stay patient. “Yes.”

Thistle folded the paper into a crane.

“There. Do you still see the circle?”

“No? I don’t.”

“There. That’s why you haven’t seen the Circle. The magic has the space all folded up.” He straightened the crane back into parchment and began scribbling on it. “Keeps humans and other unwanteds out. You can only see the seams if you’re magic. Since you’re a worthless human, I’m going to have to give you step by step instructions.” He shoved a numbered list into Theodore’s hand. “Do exactly what this says or it won’t work.”

“Wait,” Theodore said. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

Thistle grimaced. “I can’t go back to the Circle.” His face softened. “They don’t take kindly to anyone who’s sheltered a nameless. You’ll be safer if you go alone.”

Theodore placed the note in his pocket. He was starting to understand why Thistle was Oboe’s best friend. “Thank you.”

“Wait, before you go!” Thistle buzzed off, digging through rubbish piles. He pulled out a spool of thread and hurried back. “Hold this.”

Theodore held the spool while Thistle took the loose end. He snipped a length off the end with his pincers. The thread on the spool turned golden.

“There. I’ve enchanted it,” Thistle said. “If you get lost, and you’re going to get lost, pull on your end of the string. I’ve got the other end, so it’ll show you how to get here no matter where you are.” He pulled on his pincers. “Be careful while you’re there. Don’t trust anyone. Circle Fairies are the worst.”

“Understood,” Theodore said.

“And…” Thistle’s expression grew heavy. “Listen, if Oboe’s still alive, if the Fair Lady doesn’t listen to you, just grab her and run. I don’t care what you have to do.” He looked away. “If you get there, and she’s already dead, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it.” He closed his eyes. “I’m old. I won’t be able to take it.”

Theodore was taken aback. “Thistle…”

His eyes snapped open and like that he was angry again. “What are you still doing here, idiot? Get out of here! Go and find Oboe!”

Theodore studied Thistle’s handwriting, trying to decipher the note. The instructions were vague and littered with grammatical errors. It was less a set of directions and more a ritual.

1. Go edge of Whirlwood (farther from home best!!)
2. find oldest MUST BE VERY OLD oak tree
 3. Welk round oak 3 times
4. IT WON’T WORK IF YOU RUN
 5. Find mistletoe. Wear on head (DO THIS BEFORE YOU FIND THE OAK TREE OR IT WON’T WORK
 6. 3 TIMES NOT 2 OR 4! clockwise
 7. Walk toward Fount in STRAIGHT LINE 8. keep going
9. Step between 2 trees branches touching
 10. HELP OBOE

It was a struggle for Theodore to parse what he was supposed to do. The first step was simple enough, at least. He hiked toward the Western edge of the Whirlwood, where the valley ended and the Farbend prairies began. He kept his eyes open for Mistletoe on the way and tied a sprig of it into his hair.

The oak he found was enormous. To be certain, he asked a badger whether it was the oldest in the area. He got laughed at. After being pointed in the right direction, Theodore crossed a shallow stream to find a glade dominated by a single massive tree crowded by swathes of poppies. Trying his best not to trample the flowers, he circled the oak three times and set off toward the Fount.

He walked. An hour passed and nothing happened. Had he made a mistake? Had Thistle? He pushed through brush and thickets. His worry turned to doubt, then fear. Did he have the time to start over? Was Oboe still alive? He pushed his aching legs onward, too terrified of failing her to turn back.

He gasped when he saw it. Two trees, their branches twisted together into an arch. Between them the grass was lush, the colors brighter, and he could see a whole village that was not there on either side of the trees.

Theodore was hit by a blast of noise when he stepped through the portal. He found himself standing in a marketplace bustling with fairies of every description all haggling, laughing and arguing. Insectoid sylph hocking wares, fuzzy black pooka rabbits with pointed horns, lumbering leshy with skin like gnarled bark, nymphs with ivy hair and blank white eyes, gnomes rushing underfoot, and there were even antlered fauns like Oboe going about their business. Tents of purple and yellow were set up alongside wagons with creatures shouting for attention. The air tasted of fresh baked bread, day old fish, manure, copper and cranberries.

It was overwhelming. Theodore wandered through the crowd and went unnoticed. This was more than a village, it was a city. Rows of stout round cottages roofs lined well-worn dirt streets like colorful tea kettles. Their roofs were tall and conical, with earthen walls of cob. Above, the sky was wrong: A soft dull green.

“Human!”

Theodore turned to find a faun staring at him wide-eyed from her front doorstep. She was plump, dark furred, and wore a maroon mantle draped over her shoulders.

“Good afternoon,” Theodore said. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

She jerked her head to call out. “Help!! A human has gotten into the Circle! Someone help!”

Window shutters burst open all around Theodore. Creatures leaned out their windows and gagged on their afternoon tea at the sight of him.

“There’s a human!”

“Mother’s mercy! How did it get in??”

“Someone call the spriggan before it slays anyone!”

“Lock the door! It might get in!”

“Someone help us!!”

Theodore reached out a palm as panic broke out around him. A firework whistled into the sky nearby. “It’s okay!” He said “I’m not here to hurt anybody! I’m the Ranger Deputy!”

This did not reassure them. Doors slammed and locks clicked. Something swooped down from overhead. Furies, bird people dressed in leather armor, snapped to the ground on every side of him. They drew daggers of bronze, one in each hand, and crept closer.

“You are trespassing! This is the Lady’s domain!” She spoke like a shrieking cat. “Surrender yourself, now! Or we will slice you! Cut you! Tear your eyes, your heart! On your knees! Now!!”

Theodore held his hands up as the furies surrounded him. There were more blades pointed at him than he could keep track of. He was outnumbered with nowhere to run.

“I’m unarmed,” He said. “My name is Theodore Grayweather. I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I’m the Ranger Deputy, and I’m looking for someone. Maybe you can help me?”

Several of the furies faltered, their blades lowering, eyes darting between one another.

“He’s one of the King’s men,” one said. “What do we do?”

The guards looked toward what appeared to be their lead officer. She was grim faced, with eyes as sharp and narrow as her beak. Red-tipped head feathers fanned off her brow like spikes.

“The last human official who came unannounced was an assassin,” she said. “No risks. Cage this interloper until the Court decides what to do with him!”

The furies moved in to seize Theodore. “Wait!” he said, but they did not. He was wrestled to the ground. His wrists were yanked behind him and bound with rope.

“You can’t do this” Theodore said, spitting dirt out of his mouth. “I’m the appointed authority over the Whirlwood! I have the right to come here!”

“Clamp your beak, human.” The commander forced him onto his feet. “That’s for our Lady to decide. Now walk!”

The civilians gawked through their windows as the furies marched Theodore through the street, strutting like cranes. His appearance seemed to spark curiosity, but the civilians kept their distance. He marched across blocks of the fairy settlement. There were burrows and Earthenware homes. The city space was alive with trees and ripe with zoo smells. They came to a halt at a looming wall of knotted briar thorns that barred any further advance.

“Return to your patrol,” the commander ordered. “I will take it from here.”

The rest of the guard took flight. Theodore was pulled by his bindings down a cobblestone staircase down and into the mass of thorns. The growth was a fortress the fairies shaped from the vines.

“Rupert!!” The commander shouted.

A fat pooka, curled up cozy and snoring in a chair, woke with a fright.

“Buh-wha?!” Rupert hopped into a salute, rubbing gunk from his eye with his free hand. He was a little rabbit fairy with charcoal black fur and one lopped ear. He wore the same armor as the furies. “Commander Épée! Sir! How can I help you?”

“Open a cell for this one! And be quick about it! I need to report to the Fair Lady!”

Scampering across the stony floor, Rupert ran up to a patch of briar wall and spread his arms. The brambles opened to reveal a small room. Épée, the commander, hurled Theodore inside. Vines curled back over the opening to seal him in. Épée then scooped Rupert up by the scruff of his neck.

“Cadet, if I catch you napping again, I’ll have you torn apart and fed to my young.”

Rupert wriggled, helpless in her grip. “Just resting my eyes! It won’t happen again!”

With a grunt, she dropped him. He bounced and rolled into a corner. Theodore, still sore from his own rough treatment, approached the ‘bars’ of his cell.

“What happens now?” He said. “I’m an officer in service of your king! You’re just going to lock me up?!”

She folded her wings. “I bow only to the Fair Lady. She will decide what is done with you. Pray that she doesn’t give you to me.”

Theodore paced the confines of his cells after the spriggan commander left. He couldn’t afford to be detained while Oboe’s fate was still uncertain. He needed a way out.

If there were a lock he could try to pick it, but there was no such mechanism. He was sealed inside by plant growth controlled by magic. He tried to pry the brambles apart and found them as rigid as steel. The floor was a bedrock of stone. Even if Theodore had though to bring a handsaw or shovel it would not have helped him. No amount of force was going to work here.

Rupert, the pooka jailer, yawned and smacked his lips. He was the one in control of the vines, but he seemed ready to doze off again. If his work ethic was this abysmal, perhaps he was dimwitted as well. Theodore wondered how gullible he was.

“Hello? Cadet?” Theodore leaned against the vines. “I’ve finished inspecting the cell. You can open it.”

“Huh?” He shook himself alert. “What’re you talking about? You’re a prisoner. You stay in the cell. That’s your job. My job is not letting you out. It’s simple.”

“No, I am not a prisoner.” Theodore gestured towards his uniform. “As you can see, I am an official jail inspector. I was sent from the capital to insure your prisons are safe and meeting all regulation.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The commander was mean to you.”

Theodore took a gamble. “Isn’t she mean to everyone?”

Rupert couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah, that’s true.” Something clicked. “Wait a second. You’re trying to trick me! This is like the time that captive promised to feed me grubs if I let him out.” He bared his teeth. “There weren’t any grubs at all! Only lies!”

“No, no!” Theodore struggled to keep his poker face. “I am an inspector. I refer you to consider Laien city ordinance 113.2-B. All prisons are required to be graded annually for compliances in safety and security. So far your jail is doing very well in the security category.”

Rupert beamed. “Of course it is! My thorns are the strongest there are!”

“But you’re doing poorly in the safety department.” He sniffed, and pointed at the animal droppings in the corner of the cell. “This is unsanitary. How often are these cells cleaned?”

Panic struck. “That’s not my fault! The Spriggan guard keep bringing in captives to fill cells faster than we have a chance to clean!”

“That’s no excuse,” Theodore said. “Have you tried rotating prisoners between cells? That would enable you to get cleaning done where it’s needed most.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rupert admitted.

“That’s why these inspections are routine,” Theodore said. “Now, I notice the vines are very dry. What is your policy in the event of a fire?”

The jailer’s face turned toward embarrassment. “I don’t think we have one.”

“Let me see a map of your facility. We can plan a fire escape route together.”

Without any argument, Rupert opened the cell. They met at a table where the pooka brought out a pencil to sketch a crude map of the briar patch jail. Together, they collaborated on the most efficient route for Theodore to escape.

“I feel safer already,” Rupert said.

“You should still run drills to make sure everyone is familiar with what to do. Now, do you have a filing system? How do you keep track of inmate records?”

“Oh. I don’t think so.” Rupert scratched his head.

Theodore gave him a stern look. “How do you know where a captive is and when they are ready to be released?”

 “Usually Benny keeps track of all that in his head. He’s got a real good memory.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t good enough. You’ll make fewer mistake if you enforce a system to keep track of everything.”

Before Theodore realized what he was doing, he was instructing the pooka on proper filing etiquette. He went so far as to design a system where inmates up for parole would have their files automatically refiled into the warden’s desk inbox, and a color-coded registration system for assigning inmate locations.

They were interrupted when a uniformed leshy stepped into the room and caught them.

“What’s going on in here?!”

Theodore froze. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he’d lost control of himself.

“Benny!” Rupert said. “This human is helping us make a new system so we know when to let inmates go!”

“What? Really?” Benny’s face sagged with relief. “That’s wonderful! I am so sick of having to remember everything. I just made stuff up half the time.”

Theodore let himself breathe again. That was a close call and he couldn’t afford to push his luck much further. He needed to get back on track and find Oboe.

“I have a theoretical question for you both,” Theodore said. “Let’s say a nameless fairy comes back to the Circle after years of exile. Where would she be kept in your jail here?”

“A nameless?” Benny ran his fingers through a mossy beard. “They wouldn’t keep a nameless in the Outer Circle jail. It’s too serious a crime. They’d haul that scum to the Inner Circle dungeon to be tortured and stand trial.”

Worry spurred Theodore to wrap this up. “Very good. I plan to inspect that jail next. How do I go about getting there?”

“That’s easy.” Rupert said. “Just grab a boat at the dock. The Inner Circle is the island on the center of the lake.”

Theodore smiled. “One last thing, while I’m investigating your security, I’d like to have an idea of the patrol routes for your city guards. To check for weak points, you understand.”

As Theodore was climbing over walls and sidling along back alleys, he thought of several other organizational policies that would help boost the efficiency of the Fairy Circle jail. He made a mental note to draft a few proposals and send them by messenger bird after this was all over.

He kept an eye on the sky. In the distance, he could see furies soaring in wide arcs along patrol routes. Even with his path to the docks in mind, he needed to be careful.

His father always stressed the value of going undetected. Theodore recalled his lectures with grudging necessity. Stay low or keep high to stay out of line of sight. A good distraction can be better than silence. Move heel to toe and be double sure of your surroundings before proceeding. For such a celebrated warrior, the man believed it was better to be sneaky than to get into a fight. Of course, that never stopped him from tormenting Theodore with endless sword drills.

“Did you hear a human got into the Circle??”

Theodore stopped. A couple of gray furred fauns were gossiping at the end of the shadowed alley. They were dressed in silk mantles, both males.

“Some untitled lowborn probably let them in,” the fluffier one said. “See, this is why the Court needs to spend the Fates to add more folds to the Circle! What if it gives birth to a litter here? It could start a whole infestation!”

“I think we’re okay,” The short haired one said. “The Spriggan caught it pretty quick. The Lady wouldn’t let the humans take over.”

The other scoffed. “She’s let them push us around for centuries. Have you seen all the guests she’s let in? I don’t like it. One insult and they’ll turn on us. It’s time the Circle had a real queen. One who won’t take crap from humans. One who’s not afraid to go back to the old ways!”

“You shouldn’t talk like that. If word got back to our Lady…” The short hair shot glances in all directions. His eyes widened as they focused on Theodore. “Wait. Who’s that?”

Theodore bolted, doubling back down the way he’d come. He came to a cobblestone bridge, and dropped down into a stony water channel. Hiding underneath the bridge, he waited until he heard hooves clopping overhead and stayed still until he was certain they were gone.

Lance would’ve failed him for that mistake. Made him start all over. Thankfully, life was more forgiving than his father. He peered down the waterway and realized it would take him to the docks if he followed it. Provided he didn’t make too much noise wading through the ankle-deep flow.

Pushing upstream, he wondered why he had never seen Oboe wearing clothes like other fauns. Was it because she was nameless? It was still strange to think about her being an outcast. She never talked about it. He hoped she was okay.

Theodore came out the far end of a tunnel with miserable soaked socks. A set of piers stretched along the shore. He climbed back up to street level and crept through someone’s vegetable garden to get closer. A family of gnomes was disembarking a small skiff. Theodore moved in as soon as they left and found the dock was deserted.

On the back of a citation, Theodore wrote a formal apology for commandeering the skiff and advised the gnomes could seek reimbursement by addressing the Ranger Deputy office at their earliest convenience. He left the note under a firm stone and climbed into the boat to untie the mooring.

“Hey!!” Something small and fast zipped out of the skiff and buzzed circles around Theodore’s head. “What’re you doing to my boat?! Get out of my boat! I’ll kill you!!”

Theodore staggered back, trying not to fall out of the boat while some sort of bug dive bombed him. He tried waving it away and got bit.

“Ow!”

“No free rides!” Its leafy wings flittered like book pages while shaking a twiggy little arm at him. It was a pesky, the smallest variety of fairy he was familiar with. “Get out of my boat, or I’ll drown you!!” This one was like an enraged butterfly.

Theodore checked that they were still alone. “Shhh! Stop yelling! Please! I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”

“I’ll yell wherever I want!” The pesky was screaming now. “Make your own boat if you want to be quiet! This is my boat!! You don’t tell me what to do!!”

Doors and windows opened on the far side of the dock. Fauns, leshy, and pooka were leaning out of their homes to see what the racket was about. Theodore’s blood ran cold.

“I need to get to the island!” Theodore pointed across the lake. “I can pay you. Just… lower your voice.”

“Oh yeah?!” She perched on the bow of the skiff, arms crossed. “I don’t service boat thieves! You people are worse than scum! Scum!!”

The locals were muttering. It was only a matter of time before someone called for the guards.

“I can pay!” He said. “I’ll pay double!”

She tilted her head, as skeptical as if he had claimed to be the King. “Oh yeah? Let’s see the cash. Four thalers to cross the lake.”

Theodore fumbled with his wallet. This was actually cheaper than a trolley fare. “Here.”

“Do I look like a bank to you?? Exact change or you’re swimming!”

At this rate, it might come to that. “It’s a tip! Please hurry!”

She zipped over and snatched the bill from his hand and did a quick orbit around his head. “Welcome aboard the ferry. I’ll be your Skipper, Pollywog. Don’t fall out of the boat or I’ll leave you to drown.”

“Whatever!” Theodore looked back to see another firework whistle into the air. “Just go!”

Pollywog, taking her time, stuffed the money into a lockbox and fluttered down to the stern of the skiff. She pushed, and Theodore fell backwards into the deck as the whole vessel shot across the water like a rocket. Mist sprayed through the air as they hurtled so fast that Theodore lacked the strength to sit up.

“This is too fast!” Theodore said, shouting over the wind in his face. “This isn’t safe!”

“My boat, my rules!” Pollywog said.

Eyes locked on the sky, Theodore saw Furies closing in around them. “Never mind!” Theodore said. “Faster! You need to go faster!”

A fury landed heavy on the bow and sent the whole skiff rocking. The vessel slowed into a coast, and lake water slopped onto Theodore’s head. He sat up, and faced a scowling bird guard.

“What happened?!” Pollywog said. She fluttered to catch up, but hid behind Theodore with a yelp the moment she noticed the fury. “It’s the sprigs! Don’t let them see me! I can’t go back to jail!”

The fury crawled closer, on hands and talons. Two more circled overhead. Theodore scrambled backwards, the boat pitching back under his weight.

“Yield.” The fury drew a copper dagger from his waist, his face like an owl’s. “Or else.”

Ahead, Theodore could see the island surrounded by briar thorns. He folded his spectacles into his breast pocket. The Inner Circle was so close, but was it close enough?

“I can’t.” He said, and jumped overboard.

As Theodore thrashed in the water, he regretted blowing off every opportunity he had in his life to take swimming lessons. All he had to do was make it to shore. Although he still needed to outrun the furies. And there was the matter of that giant briar patch wall surrounding the island. He decided this was a one-crisis at a time situation.

He swam as fast as he could, but did not get far. There was a muffled shriek and something clamped onto his shoulders and wrists. Theodore wrestled to get free but there was too many of them. The three furies worked together to haul him high into the air.

The furies carried him across the lake and to the far shore, where they dumped him on the ground like a load of wet laundry. Theodore flopped upright and fished his glasses out of his pocket to assess the situation. The good news was the furies had carried him over the wall into the Inner Circle. The bad news was that he was surrounded. Épée, the fury who apprehended Theodore on his arrival, was waiting alongside nymphs and fauns armed with cudgels.

“Words come down from the Fair Lady,” Épée said. “She wants to see the intruder.”

“You heard the commander!” The owl fury said. “On your feet, human!”

Theodore’s socks squished in his boots. It was going to be a miserable walk.

“I’m the Ranger Deputy,” Theodore said. “I have a right to be here.”

“Don’t recall asking your opinion,” Épée said.

Without much choice, Theodore was escorted by armed fairies through the Inner Circle. The beauty came as a shock. Immaculate gardens stretched all around him. Topiary sculptures dotted the landscape. Manicured, exotic trees curled their limbs in the air like crescents. Cottages of celadon were scattered throughout, but what was grander was the palace of crystal at the center of the island. Slanted towers rose a cluster of quartz stone. That had to be the fair palace. Theodore wondered if the Inner Circle dungeons were somewhere inside.

Massive bronze doors were pushed open. Épée pushed him inside. The interior was like a cathedral: stone walls arched high along a grand entrance hall. Tapestries hung throughout the hall, ancient heraldry. The same symbol repeated on each, an acorn with a keyhole emblazoned over a blooming oak tree.

“My lady.” Épée called. “This is the human that found its way into your domain. It claims to be the Ranger Deputy.”

Hooves clicked on stone steps. The Fair Lady descended a stair case. She was a faun, but enormous; more than twice the height of Oboe. Her horns curled back along her head and branched into pointed antlers. She was draped in a silk mantle embroidered with that same acorn. Three almond shaped leaves decorated her forehead. She swept across the floor and loomed high over Theodore.

“Greetings Theodore,” she said, her voice rich and husky. The guards knelt. “Welcome to my Fairy Circle.”