When 12yo nonbinary changeling Mist and their mortal friend Zarita accidentally capture pixies on film, they must "prove" the photos are fake or face the wrath of the Fairy Queen. Cottingley Fairies meets MG Cruel Prince.
It’s not easy to train a fox, even if the fox is your sister.
I’ve tried my whole life to make Kit listen. It doesn’t help that she keeps growing. She’s already as big as a horse, with fangs and claws, so wrestling her down doesn’t work anymore. And her bigness is about to get us in a heap of trouble.
“Stay,” I say, drawing it out. Her nose pokes through the bushes where I hid her. Kit’s golden eyes flash with wanting at the bright patch in the distance. The woods of the Spillage are always dim with twilight, except for that morsel of sky shining through the Gap. Whenever we get near the mortal world, Kit gets the itch for adventure. Well, so do I, but one of us has to be responsible.
“If we leave now, the Queen will have our hides. We’re already late for the party.” If there was a way out of that, I’d be on Kit’s back and through the Gap in a blink. But the Queen would definitely notice our absence. Kit whines. I swat her on the nose. “And if you go without me, I’ll wear your skin as a coat.”
Kit thrusts her long orange snout under my arm. Her whiskers quiver as I run my hands over her ears. “Stay out of sight for two minutes. You can manage that, you big lug.”
My collar stings against my neck; the Queen thinks I’m dawdling. I leave Kit whimpering in the bushes and break into a run.