Honestly, I never thought that anyone would want me. All I need to do is look in the housekeeper’s tiny hand mirror. My facial features are odd even by my own standards. And it just goes downhill from there. My skin is a stubborn pale white, and no matter how much fresh air I get I never have pink cheeks. The housekeeper is always worried about me, saying it’s unhealthy for a child to be so thin. My eyes are a pale green, most often mistaken for gray. The only thing I care for out of my physical appearance is my hair. It falls down my back in a coppery-red sheet when I take it out of the pinned hairstyle required of the girls here. I feel exposed when it’s not swishing on my back, even if it does catch on the buttons of my dress.

I don’t speak that much. The last time I spoke to the girl I share a room with in this orphanage, she turned paler than I. It was only a harmless comment about that evening’s beautiful sunset, a rarity here, but I later saw her talking to her friends quietly and eyeing me suspiciously. I don’t try to be unsociable, but it just... happened. I didn’t talk to anyone of the girls anymore after that incident, so now to them I seem stuck-up. Cold. Distant.
That’s why I was so surprised in my own silent way when Miss Violet called me to her study to discuss a possible adoption. Why would I be adopted before the others if everyone thought I was a surly, unpleasant girl? Well, aside from the housekeeper that is. That morning, I made sure that every hair was in place. I was miserable enough here to care whether they, whoever they were, wanted me or not. I held my breath before opening the door.
Miss Violet was speaking to a boy who looked about my age, about twelve. A boy?! She never lets boys into the house! Especially not boys like this one. His spiky black hair was so long that it was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and an asymmetric fringe framed his face. It fell over eyes the same pale green as mine. And his clothes! His dark purple shirt was cropped at the shoulders while his trousers were embroidered with leaves in a silvery thread. His belt was a dark green leather with multiple wooden charms dangling off it on thin leather strips. The boy wore no shoes, so his feet were tracking mud all over Miss Violet’s precious Persian rug. I am ashamed to say that I positively gaped.
Miss Violet noticed my stare too soon. “Well, come in, Amaiya,” she said impatiently. Timidly I walked in and bobbed a curtsy. The boy smiled radiantly at me, and I suddenly had the oddest feeling. I quickly looked back at Miss Violet to pretend I didn’t realize the small blush rising on my cheeks. Well, not that anyone would notice anyway. “This is Mrs. Katherford, assistant to the man who wants to adopt you, Mr. Ze- ze-” she stumbled over the word.
“Zetysine,” the boy cut in. He glimmered around the edges for a second, and I caught a glimpse of a well-dressed middle aged woman. I looked closer, and the image flickered as the charms on his belt clinked together. I looked from him to Miss Violet in disbelief. How could she not see that this person was a boy, and a improperly dressed one at that? The boy, for I was sure he couldn’t be Mrs. Katherford, seemed to smirk at me. Miss Violet watched the two of us expectantly. “Well, I suppose you would like to talk for a while, Mrs. Katherford, before Mr. Zetison- no, Zetysign, decides to adopt her. I shall leave you to it,” she declared brightly. “I have some other pressing business at the moment.” She walked out of the room and closed the door purposefully.
We stood there in silence for a couple seconds until he sat down, propping his feet up on the mahogany desk. I saw his image flash to the middle-aged woman and back again and narrowed my eyes. His smirk grew. “You’re not Mrs. Katherford, let alone a woman,” I accused. One of my faults, that. I’m always quick to reveal untruths when provoked, mostly to the point of rudeness. The boy laughed, a strange sound, like the wind ruffling the branches of a willow tree in summer. Then he looked at me sharply.
“So you can see through glamours,” he said. The flickering stopped. “I guess he was right.”
“Who?”
“Lord Zetysine.”
“There is no such person.”
“That was the only other thing besides him having heard of  you that I didn’t make up. Karsjen Zetysine.” I pursed my lips.
“Then you just admitted it.”
“Admitted what?”
“Who are you, if you’re not a lady with a proper look about her that could be the best of friends with Miss Violet?” I crossed my arms with this. He was just a boy, and I had every right to behave as I wished without an adult around.
“Mikhan.” He stood up, his face now serious. I now saw he was taller than I, perhaps in fact about fourteen years old. “But that doesn’t matter. I did what I came here for. I will visit again.” He smiled slightly and waved before suddenly, he just, well, winked out. Almost as if he had been snuffed like a candle flame. I looked all around the room to make sure I was not just imagining it, but he was truly gone, with the door still firmly shut close and the window closed. There was no mud on the Persian rug and no scuffs on the polished desk. In a sort of a daze, I walked out of the study and strolled down to the gardens.
“Amaiya!” Miss Violet called from behind. I turned around quickly, not expecting her to be back from her ‘pressing business’ so quickly. “Are you finished talking with Mrs. Katherford?”
“Yes, Miss Violet. She had other matters to attend to, so we only had a few moments’ conversation.” It was harder than I thought to lie like that, even if Miss Violet wouldn’t believe me if I had told the truth. If it was in fact truth. Once I had tried to convince the housekeeper of sprites I swore lived in the pond behind the seminary, only to be told that they were simple imaginings of my own making and not at all real. A faerie boy, or what had to be a faerie boy, who had pretended to be a lady with the intention of helping along an adoption was an idea that very well may put me in an asylum. I will just keep it in the back of my mind as one of my ‘daydreams’. What truly mattered was that I was going to be adopted. I would leave this place. Miss Violet hurried on as always in that bustling way she has, and I wasn’t bothered for the rest of the afternoon.
The next day was Saturday, and a free day. The sky was overcast, the gray clouds enveloping the horizon. The gardens were damp and moist, the earth slightly warm to my improperly bare feet. Dew hung on to the spiderwebs clinging to the purple foxgloves, and moss cushioned the fallen tree trunk I sat on. I sketched the trees around me for the hundredth time, trying not to dwell on what had occurred earlier that morning. Ellse was an absolute rat of a girl. It would take a while to wash the tea stains out of my blouse.
“Whatcha drawing?” a voice said a centimeter away from my ear. Mikhan? I twisted around.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, frowning at him. “You’d better not make trouble. They think I’m odd enough claiming there are sprites in that pond, anyway.” Mikhan jumped down from the tree branch he was crouching on and sat down next to me. He grabbed the sketch book and studied the drawings with a pointed concentration.
“But there are sprites in that pond. Some particularly nice ones, too,” he agreed, handing back the sketch book and leaned back against another tree branch, hands behind his head and knees crossed. He closed his eyes, basking in the snatch of sunlight that had slipped out from between the clouds. “The ones back home are rather nasty.” He opened one eye, peering at me. “You look kinda lonely.” My cheeks grew hot, and I looked away.
“Of course I’d be lonely when all the girls shun me,” I replied bitterly. No use mincing words. “They hate me.”
“It’s understandable,” Mikhan said easily. I glared. “No, not like that. They’re afraid of what they don’t know. I mean, look at you! If Lord Karsjen didn’t have his lady yet, you might be the wife of a Faerie Lord, you’re that pretty. Like in those old days, when there were more Fae than us Opsianou.” I glowered.
“I’m not pretty,” I contradicted him. “I’m pale as a willow-the-wisp, almost as pale as you. And much too thin.” Mikhan sighed, shaking his head. We didn’t talk for long hours after that, just sat on the fallen log. Night fell, twilight illuminating the sprites flitting about. The moon rose, a thin crescent. The sky had somehow cleared, the stars nearly too bright to look at. I watched Mikhan out of the corner of my eye. What was his aim in coming to keep me company?
“What is it?” he suddenly asked, turning on his side to stare me down. “You have that distrustful look on your face again.” I pursed my lips. He broke out into a smile and tugged a lock of my hair. “Come on, cheer up! Full Moon isn’t that far away!” He gazed up at the sky. “Looks like it’s time to go. See you around!” I yanked my hair back, intent on telling him off, but he had vanished into the trees. I huffed and gathered up my drawing supplies. No doubt Miss Violet would scold me for being late to dinner.

Mikhan visited me almost every day after that. We didn’t really talk, just sat. When we did speak, he would make cryptic hints about my home-to-be, I would roll my eyes, and he would laugh out loud, his willow branch laugh somehow dancing, reflecting off the pond. At times we would walk, our strolls often ending in an argument at the edge of the real woods off of the seminary property. Mikhan wanted to go further, pointing out that a few days did not make a difference when I would soon be leaving. He pleaded jokingly, and though I laughed with him I always walked back to the dull safety of the seminary. Never deterred, Mikhan. He seemed determined to make me cheer up, and though only by a bit, it was working.
One day he came late, his hair more windblown than usual if that was possible and his eyes excited. “Amaiya!” he blurted out, breathing fast. I only raised an eyebrow, my sketch of the pond having been interrupted. He tugged the sketchbook and lead pencil out of my hands and yanked me to my feet, pulling me to the edge of the forest.
“Mikhan,” I warned. “What are you doing?” He stopped with a jerk, realizing that I had no idea what was going on. Mikhan smoothed his long bangs back, almost seeming, well, nervous.
“There’s a dance tonight to celebrate the Orange Gibbous.”
“What?” I felt a stab of fear. No one came back from faerie dances, or so the stories said. Who knows when I would see the outside world again if I went with him to such an event?
“You know, it’s like a harvest moon but not the full moon.”
“That’s not what I meant. I know the phases of the moon. But a dance? I’ll never get out alive!” Mikhan raised his eyebrows.
“Honestly, you’d think she’d know by now that she’s fae herself,” he told the sprite that had surfaced to listen to our conversation. I froze. I’d had some thoughts about the possibility, but- Mikhan smiled. “A faerie girl can’t be spirited away if she’s a spirit herself. You’re not Opsianou, of course, or else you’d be with us long ago.” I watched him open-mouthed. He looked at me back, as if thinking. Then he nodded. “Not an Opsianou, but close. A Yleoiqxi. A beech tree spirit.” I made a face, crossing my arms.
“You’re telling me things I’ve already guessed, except for that tree spirit thing. So what are you, the spirit of a willow tree?” I asked doubtfully. Mikhan blinked.
“How did you guess?” he said. I rolled my eyes.
“Your laugh. It sounds like when willow branches are rustled by the wind.” I bit my lip, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. “On second thought, nevermind.” Mikhan laughed.
“You’re right, actually. It does,” he smiled. Then he remembered his impatience. “Will you come to the dance with me already?” I looked at the sky; it was close to sunset.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on!”
“Alright, but only for a little bit,” I conceded. Miss Violet wouldn’t miss me for a while yet, and truth to tell, the prospect was exciting. Only a few days to full moon. Mikhan was right, it did seem a little ridiculous to wait. I was scared, and I knew it. Going to a dance wasn’t the same thing as running away though. Right?
We raced through the trees, only pausing to hop over the posts of the fence around the seminary property. As we ran, something seemed to change. Mikhan looked older, taller, although fifteen minutes past I could have sworn he was a centimeter shorter than me. The light through the trees took on a different hue, becoming a watery blue-green that dyed the ground beneath our feet. A stream burbled past, peppered with smooth pebbles and water flowers a luminescent green. Violet lanterns with spirit lights hung from the bows of the trees as we went deeper into the woods. It was a strange feeling in a peculiar place. I felt comfortable, as if I had been doing this, running hand in hand with Mikhan, all my life. It was almost disconcerting.
We arrived in a large clearing, but to call it one clearing wouldn’t be entirely accurate. It was several, only broken up by the odd willow tree. The lanterns were dim, the tree branches framing the moon in the open sky. Clear yellow-green eyes flashed noticing Mikhan and I, but none of the figures stopped their dance. I realized then that what we had been hearing was music, a melancholy sort of melody with pipes and hollow drum. One beautiful lady played a harp, the delicate notes vibrating in time with the shimmer of her iridescent wings the color of night. Hers must have been the spirit of the moth from all of the lanterns hanging near her seat on a moss-cushioned boulder.
Mikhan let go of my hand, walking to where she sat and bowed. “Suzuna!” he greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The faerie looked up, and I could see the fine lines on her forehead. For a faerie to have wrinkles, she must be ancient. “When did you travel here?”
“Only a day or so ago, Mikhan. Who have you brought with you today?” she smiled softly. I stiffened. Mikhan turned around and beckoned to me with one hand.
“This is Amaiya. Lord Karsjen heard of her a month or so ago from the Typzid sprites. She’s a Yleoiqxi.” I blushed, feeling like an outsider, and curtseyed. It seemed like the right thing to do. Suzuna chuckled.
“And let me guess, Mikhan, you’ve already commandeered her.” This time it Mikhan reddened as well. “Amusing. I thought you would have chosen Cyrrys.” Mikhan grimaced.
“Well, I, you see, I was the only one who had time to spend,” he tried to explain, making Suzuna laugh even more. “And Cyrrys? Who likes her? Annoying twit, she is.”
“Don’t believe him, Amaiya. She’s almost his older sister,” Suzuna told me. Mikhan huffed.
“Between you, Cyrrys, Karsjen, and your three sons, I almost have a whole other family!” he complained. “And I’m the youngest!”
“What am I, the eldest sister?” The dignified, yet smiling voice belonged to another faerie. She was different from the green-eyed woods faeries, short and not as willowy, her build strong rather than sinewy. Her eyes were a piercing black and her hair red, nearly the same shade as mine. Sharp cheekbones and full lips made her seem severe, but the humor in her gaze was kind. Her left hand rested on the hilt of what looked to be a dagger, if an incredibly long one.  “Pleased to meet you, Amaiya. Thank you for putting up with Mikhan for all this time.” I nodded, unsure what to say. Mikhan yelped as she punched him hard in the shoulder.
“What was that for?”
“Just a punishment to remind you not to bother the poor girl too much before I depart.” Suzuna nodded wisely. “Just came to say goodbye.”
I didn’t speak, only watched the dancers whirl, light as the breeze through the trees. “Amaiya?” Mikhan asked, wondering at my silence. “Did you want to dance?” He took my hand and led me to the circle, but I could not speak. All the sudden I felt lightheaded. Where was I? What in the world was I doing here? It felt too strangely right. Impossibly right. I started to walk back in the direction of the seminary. “Amaiya? Amaiya!” Mikhan leaped to catch up to me. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t stay here. I need to get back.” The feeling of belonging was frightening after years of being an outsider. “I can’t-”
“Oh,” he interrupted. All of the sudden, his face grew sad. I swallowed hard, and he set a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right. I… know how you feel.” Mikhan’s voice was quiet on the last word. “It doesn’t seem possible, does it? To find a home. Are you afraid of being happy?” The question hung in the air, ringing faintly.
“Yes,” I said at last, and Mikhan visibly drooped. He grasped my shoulders, breathing in and out, head bowed. “Mikhan?” I bent down to try to see his face.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled. He straightened, taking my hand. Nodding to Suzuna, we left, walking solemnly back. The faeries stopped dancing, waiting to resume their fun until we faded into the trees. The crickets keened sadly, as if lamenting our departure. Guilt pooled in my stomach, but I had to finish what I started. We stopped abruptly under the poplars by the pond, at almost midnight. Had we really been gone that long? Mikhan didn’t let go of my hand, and I gave him a questioning look. “By Full Moon, please.” His eyes were worried. “Come back to us by Full Moon.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to my lips. His clothes rustled and he was gone in a rush of willow leaves carried by the night’s breeze. All sound stopped. I wasn’t alone; the animals and insects of the pond would have spoken to me if I were.
“Well, wasn’t that interesting?” a sneering voice said behind me. I whirled around. Ellse! “Not only mad, but visiting a man as well. I thought I would be kind in going out to look for you, but my mistake.”
“Ellse! I’m not even fourteen!”
“I’m sure you aren’t. In fact, I’d be sure you weren’t Amaiya if it weren’t for that nasty hair of yours.” I looked in the pond’s reflection hurriedly. I had retained the shape I had unconsciously taken in the faerie world. Ellse was right. I stood there, frozen. “I bet you had a good time tonight, didn’t you? You were always odd, but I never guessed you were this disreputable.” I took a step back, clutching my skirt anxiously.
“I didn’t—”
“And how do you expect me to believe that?”
“What do you have against me?!” I shouted, blinking hard so’s not to cry. Ellse’s jaw dropped. The shock on her face was unmistakable. “How did I hurt you, or any of the others? Did I do insult to you, make it my business to be unpleasant?” She bit her lip, eyes flitting to the side. She took a deep breath, then smiled smalley. My eyebrows creased. Why was she smiling?
“Well… not really, I suppose.” She pushed her hair back. “You just annoy me. You always look as if you should be somewhere else, as if it pains you to linger here. You won’t save yourself, either. It’s irritating to see someone in the last place they want to be. You never talk to anyone about it.” She looked at me expectantly. “Can’t you just go already?” I blinked twice and swallowed once. Did Ellse—? No, it couldn’t be. But maybe, perhaps, she wanted to get a reaction out of me? She couldn’t know me that well could she? Then it came onto me. It was obvious, wasn’t it? I had tried to ignore it, but the seminary was not the reason I hated it here, in the human world. I wanted to be there, there in the woods where moonlight tastes of blueberries and mint. I longed for the home I had just found, for that was what it was.
“I need to leave!” The words came out of my mouth without thinking. I picked up the sketchbook I had left by the pond. “Thank you!” I hugged Ellse quickly, leaving her open-mouthed, then turned away, running, into the forest. She was right! She was right! All along I had told myself that I was wrong for this world, never realizing the truth was that this world was wrong for me. “Thank you, Ellse!” I whispered to the wind as my feet carried me past the trees, branches caressing my face, and over river and stream, transparent fish greeting my toes.
I saw the clearings in front of my eyes, more real than anything I have ever seen in my life. Mikhan, talking to Suzuna still, head bowed. Suzuna looked up, surprised, and then grabbed Mikhan’s shoulder. Slowly, he turned around. His eyes widened as he watched my gradually slow from my sprint until I was standing in front of them. “Amaiya,” he breathed. Then he smiled broadly, making me sigh with relief. “And how do you find Styri?” He took my hand, placing it on his cheek. I blushed.
“It’s quite a peculiar place,” I replied. Suzuna laughed.
“Why?” Mikhan asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Exactly for the fact that it is not in the slightest bit peculiar at all.” And this time, we all laughed, the sound tinkling like spirit bells hanging from willow and beech branches arcing gracefully with the wind and opening up to the night sky.