All That Burns by Ryan Graudin

delicacies.
    “You’ll be at the coronation, yes?” All of Lord Winfred’s attentions are wrapped up in the Faery queen. His eyes are lit the same way they were when he pointed out the Faery lights.
    Titania’s hair glitters and shines as she nods. “I should be able to withstand London for a few hours. Given the proper precautions.”
    “We’ve allotted a special Lights-down the night before so Queen Titania can attend the ceremony,” Richard reminds the prime minister. “And she’ll spend most of the day with Princess Anabelle. My sister’s blood magic should energize her. Help stave off the sickness.”
    “Good, good,” Lord Winfred rumbles. “It’s an important moment for integration. The press will be watching;we must put our best foot forward.”
    I wait until the conversation peters down to pull Titania aside. “May I speak with you in private? Outside?”
    The Faery queen nods. Her gown—woven and sparkling like dewdropped cobwebs—dances across the floor, cuts a new path to the door. Out of the Reception Room, past the row of butlers and black-suited security, all the way to the grassy stretch of the Upper Ward.
    “Have you found the prisoner?” I ask once we reach the center of the green.
    “Is that what this is about?” Titania’s voice is as severe as her face. “I told you to forget about what you saw on the Isle of Man.”
    Forget . She says it so simply. As if I could just erase the terrifying white of Guinevere’s eyes. As if what I discovered in the Labyrinth hasn’t haunted every moment of this past fortnight.
    “Please, Your Majesty.”
    Maybe it’s the bleariness around my eyes which no amount of Anabelle’s imposed makeup can hide. Or the stretch and fray of my voice. Whatever it is, Titania answers.
    “There’s no trace. Nothing. The scouts scoured the whole west coast, but they came up empty. They evenwent back to the Isle of Man. There were still traces of aura in the cell, but beyond that . . . nothing. I even had some younglings consult the Tower ravens, to see if they’d had any visions. But they were silent.” The Faery queen frowns. I watch her closely, studying her profile for signs of sickness. The last time we were both here, Titania nearly died from the closeness of the city’s technology.
    But Lights-down is doing its job. The air out here is mountain fresh, tinged with hints of winter and the hues of Herne the Hunter’s trees.
    “Have you had any second thoughts about Alistair’s offer?” I ask.
    “Involving the Ad-hene?” Titania looks at me sharply. “You think that’s a wise choice?”
    “No,” I answer. “But it might be our only one. Alistair’s right. They’ve existed with the prisoners for years. Perhaps they can find trails your scouts are blind to.”
    “I’d prefer not to give Alistair any more power in this situation,” Titania says, her voice clipped. “The Ad-hene can’t be trusted.”
    I can’t argue this point. Not as long as the only key to the Labyrinth’s tunnels lies in their silver-etched arms. “You think they let the prisoner free?”
    “I don’t know. The Ad-hene are difficult to read. Mabhad a much better rein on them. . . . In any case, it’s been nearly a fortnight and there’s no disturbance we can trace back to the empty cell. I think for now we should consider the possibility that the prisoner is gone for good. Perhaps it simply wanted freedom. Or the island truly did swallow it.” There’s a rise in her voice which makes me think she actually believes what she’s saying.
    The old tensions are there, restless between us. From the days when I was a youngling and Titania a duchess. When she scrutinized my each and every move.
    “A spirit that powerful doesn’t just forget centuries in prison—” I begin.
    She cuts me off. “Mab was the one who sent them there. And now she’s gone. I know you worry about King Richard, but those threats are over. It’s a new age. We have new things to tend