Phae sighed, hearing sadness in the Seneschal’s voice.

“You see, child, he deceived himself most of all. Having eaten of the fruit without permission, he quailed when I appeared and charged him for his crime. He was banished from Mirrowen forever. I cursed his fireblood with madness that any soul with it who would not control his or her thoughts or emotions should succumb to insanity. Ambition must always be tempered. He was angry at his punishment and threatened in his heart to destroy Mirrowen. Because he had favored the principles of bondage to that of freedom, I commanded the spirits of Mirrowen to never obey him. I allowed Shirikant to take the serpent with him.”

The Seneschal turned and faced Phae. “My daughter never returned to Mirrowen. Come with me, child. You must see what happened next for yourself.” He extended his hand.

The magic of the Tay al-Ard swept them back to Stonehollow. They were outdoors and the air smelled familiar. They were in one of the lush gardens of the palace, full of trimmed hedges, vibrant flower beds, and gurgling fountains. There were many guests about, savoring goblets of wine, enjoying the singing and instruments of musicians. Decorations abounded, with pennants hanging from tall staves and butlers appearing with silver dishes full of wonderful meats and cheeses.

“This way,” the Seneschal said, holding out his arm and escorting Phae. They were both dressed as the nobility around them, blending in perfectly with the costumes of the occasion. Giddy laughter filled the air as the people rejoiced.

“They were married in the Druidecht rites,” the Seneschal said. “Scarcely an hour ago. Prince Isic did not wish for all this pomp and circumstance but his brother insisted, managing to delay the wedding for many months as they entertained guests from various kingdoms coming to greet and pay respects to the Seneschal’s Dryad-born daughter. By this time my daughter was feeling the pains of the seed traveling through her. She knew her time had come and she longed to return to the grove and claim her birthright. She relented to the persuasions of the king, despite her pain and the longing to return. She hid her discomforts from everyone but Prince Isic. They were inseparable, the closest of confidants and friends. Shirikant’s jealousy grew more envenomed. And so he made a pact with the serpent Iddawc to kill his brother on their wedding day. He was deposited in a hedge maze and the guests were warned to stay away, that it was a special reward for the bride and groom. There . . . do you see them?”

Phae looked up and saw Aristaios escorting the Seneschal’s daughter by the arm toward the mouth of the hedges. He was speaking to her gallantly, explaining the nature of the maze and that the couple had to seek each other by calling out to each other and finding the way. She would be in the center and Prince Isic would need to find her. It was a charming custom among their people.

Phae could see the worried looks on the daughter’s face, and she could recognize the strain caused by pain in her brow. Phae knew how she felt, how the pain of the Dryad seed could be torturous.

Phae clutched the Seneschal’s arm. “Does it pain you to see this?” she asked him, feeling the terrible sense of impending doom.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling sadly. He patted her arm. “Some memories are painful. But I am proud of her too. Proud of what she did. Let’s follow them. They will not see us.”

Phae went alongside the Seneschal as he directed them toward the hedge maze. Shirikant was just ahead, causing her to look at the sculpted hedges and statuary decorating it. They passed through the maze quickly, for Shirikant knew the way.

“The Scourgelands is a hedge maze,” the Seneschal whispered to her, smiling. “The themes of his treachery always repeat. He can’t help himself.”

When they reached the center of the maze, there was a hue and cry.

“Ah, the revelers have come,” Shirikant said, letting the girl wander freely in the center of the maze. A small fountain splashed in the center with a low bench encircling it. He seated himself. “He’ll find you soon, I think.”

“Does he know the way?” the Seneschal’s daughter asked.

“No. The ways have been changed since he was a boy. But he is clever, do not worry. Have you enjoyed your stay among the Moussion, my lady?”

“Very much, thank you. But I long to return to my home.”

“I know you do. Well, my dear, there is one more tradition of the Moussion that I failed to mention.” He stood and approached her. “The king of the country must kiss the bride before her wedding night. It’s an ancient tradition and awkward considering I am now your brother. A kiss on the cheek will suffice.”