The Stepsister Scheme

said. “Fairy nobles tend to be passionate, jealous, petty, and slightly mad. They’re also tremendously powerful. Centuries ago, a poet compared the king’s might to the blazing sun, and the queen’s beauty to the moon. The fairies began to talk about the King’s Sun and the Queen’s Moon. Naturally, both wanted what the other had. The illusion is a huge waste of magic if you ask me, but it kept them at peace.”
    “As peaceful as fairies ever get,” Talia added.
    “Wait until you see the moons rise,” said Snow. “The Queen’s Moon is silver, while the king’s is gold. Have you ever seen our moon on a cloudy night, when the light forms a halo? Here, if the moons are close enough, the halos intersect to form a dark rainbow. There are pictures in one of my books.”
    “If they’re close enough?” Danielle repeated. “They move?”
    “They grow closer together every midsummer and midwinter. On those two nights, the crescent moons rise together, forming a single ring in the sky. It’s supposed to be a time of great celebration and mischief.”
    “If we’re still here come midsummer,” Talia interrupted, “I’m throwing myself into the chasm.”
    The land beyond the goblin encampment was as alien as the sky. Fruit trees of every variety bordered the road. Some, such as the apples and pears, were familiar. Others she had never seen before. Yellow-green globes the size of her fist, tiny black berries growing in thick shining clusters, brown-crusted melons so large the branches bowed from the weight. The too-sweet smell of spoiled fruit filled the air.
    “The goblins used to have a thriving market,” said Snow. “They sold fruit to passing humans, back before the treaty. These days, with so few people coming in to Fairytown, they just make really bad wine.”
    A loud crack from the side of the road made Danielle jump. One of the trees toppled toward the road. Before Danielle could move, Talia grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back. They landed hard on the road as the tree crashed down... ... and disappeared. High-pitched jeers and giggles came from a patch of quivering black wildflowers.
    “Brownies,” Snow said. She hadn’t reacted at all to the illusory tree. She pointed to a tiny manlike shape darting through the orchards. “Mischievous little things, but they won’t hurt us. The road through Fairytown is protected. None can harm you unless you leave it.”
    “I knew that,” Talia muttered. She helped Danielle to her feet.
    For a time, they walked in silence. Danielle felt like she was walking downhill, but every time she looked back, the road was as level as the sea on a calm day. Perhaps it was the road itself urging them onward.
    “So where are we going, anyway?” Danielle asked.
    “Snow has a contact in Fairytown,” Talia said. “Some gnome who’s close to the fairy queen. She says he should be powerful enough to snatch the prince back from your stepsisters.”
    “His name is Arlorran,” said Snow. “He’s the queen’s summoner. Arlorran told me once that he spends a lot of time with the goblins, so he should be around here somewhere.”
    “You never did tell me how you met this gnome,” Talia said.
    “I met him a few months ago, on my mirror. I was trying to see Allesandria, but I coughed near the end of the spell, and ended up with this confused little gnome staring out at me.”
    Talia stopped walking. “A few months? You’ve been talking to a fairy all this time, and you didn’t tell me? What if he was a spy? What if he tried to enchant you through the mirror?”
    “Through my mirror?” Snow laughed. “I’d like to see him try. Besides, he’s cute for a gnome.”
    “Will he help us?” Danielle asked.
    “I think so.” Snow glanced around. “He told me I should come visit sometime. I just wish he’d told me where he lives.”
    Talia groaned. “You mean you didn’t stop to ask before we left the palace?”
    “I did!” Snow flushed. “I mean, I tried. I couldn’t get through. We haven’t talked much in the past few weeks. I’m a little worried about him. I think he’s depressed.”
    “A depressed gnome,” said Talia. “That’s great, Snow.”
    A low wall of weathered stone crossed through the woods, stopping to either side of the road. The stones were barely a foot high, enough to stop Trittibar in his shrunken state perhaps, but little more. There was no cement or mortar. Blue-green moss filled in the gaps between the stones. But when