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Children were so rare among the kingdom fae, that babies under ten years old were closely guarded. She stepped back. Somehow the Skye azuri had been blessed many times, growing their numbers to a proportion no kingdom faerie would believe.

    Munro, on the other hand, reacted quite differently. “Hello, Princess,” he said with a grin. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.”
     
    “Quinton,” Eilidh whispered, wanting to warn him to stay back. If any fae thought their baby was in danger, they might become terrible indeed. The last thing she wanted was to draw Oron’s ire. Even after months in his household, she never forgot her place. As a student, she was lower than any servant. Oron tried to tell her the azuri colony’s way was different, and besides, she was no longer a child, as most students would be. He tried to treat her as a guest, but the habits of her kingdom life were too deeply ingrained.

    Munro went down to one knee and hunched a little, so the child could look him in the eye. She skipped up to him fearlessly. He held out a hand, and she took it. “I’m Quinton Munro,” he said. “What’s your name?”
     
    “Fluranach,” she said. “You’re not supposed to cast illusions in the house. Grandfather says so.”

    Munro grinned. “You mean these?” He flicked one rounded, freckled ear.
     
    The child nodded.

    “Feel,” he said.
     
    She reached up and grabbed the top of his ears with her small hands. “That’s pretty good,” she said. “I can usually tell when Alyssa does it.”

    “How old are you?” he asked.
     
    “I’m seven. How old are you?”

    “Thirty-four.”
     
    “You don’t look like a little boy,” she said, obviously not believing him.

    “I’m not. I’m human. We age up fast. And you don’t sound like a little girl.”
     
    “I’m little, but I’m clever. Everyone says so.”

    “That doesn’t surprise me.”
     
    “So you don’t have any magic at all?” she asked.

    “I’m a druid. I suppose technically I have some magic, but I’m just learning. I don’t really know what it does or how to use it. So far all I can do is make pretty rocks.”
     
    “Can I see?”

    “Sure. I’ll need a regular rock to start with.”
     
    “I’ll get one!” she squealed and thundered through the front door into the garden, completely ignoring Eilidh.

    Munro stood and turned back to Eilidh with a smile. “She’s cute,” he said.
     
    “Quinton, you mustn’t.”

    “Mustn’t what? What’s wrong?” A shadow passed over his face, but he quickly brightened again when the girl returned.
     
    She handed him a rock, which was small, flat, and half-covered in mud. “This felt like a good one.”

    Munro sat cross-legged on the ground, and the faerie child did the same. They faced each other with serious expressions. Eilidh stepped forward, her mind spinning with warnings, but unable to speak.
     
    Oron’s voice came from behind her. “Let’s just see what happens,” he said. When Eilidh started to protest, he shushed her. “Fluranach is a talented child. I’m curious to see what she makes of your druid. He certainly has no ill intention. I can see that much.”

    Eilidh relaxed. She could see it too, but she couldn’t help but worry. Even though the azuri fae seemed to be more fertile than their kingdom counterparts, she couldn’t shake the deep-seated instinct to protect the girl. Fae children were so valuable to their race.
     
    Munro was busy scraping mud off the rock, careless of where the bits fell. He polished the last of it off with the bottom edge of his shirt. “There we go. That works.” He turned the rock in his hand, looking at it from all angles.

    “What’re you going to do?” the child asked.
     
    “Patience, my little flower.” He frowned as he contemplated the rock. “Maybe it would help if you held my hand.”

    “Okay,” she said, looking serious. She put her tiny hand in his large powerful one. “Ooh!” she exclaimed.
     
    Eilidh