The birds are singing so loudly I can't think. Albína shouts the command that shuts them up, and everything goes quiet. I take a couple of deep breaths to get my thinking straight. That's an awful way to wake up. I look for Jonah, but he's gone. He must have carried me to bed after I fell asleep.

"Is there a volume control on those things?" I ask Albína.

"They do seem a bit loud. I'll read the instruction manual this afternoon and see what I can do. Sir Jonah is taking you to breakfast, so you need to get dressed," she says in the singsong voice that means she has a surprise for me. She pops into the closet and returns with a pair of black pants and a long black sweater almost identical to the one I wore here.

My heart leaps almost as far as I do when I jump out of bed and nearly land on her. "It's perfect! Thank you, Albína."

I hug her without thinking and then feel the fabric of the lightweight leggings. They're made out of the same soft fabric as most everything here. The sweater is a heavier knit, but it's also velvety soft.

I race to the bathroom and grab the jars of colored powder. "Please show me how to do this so I don't have to be waited on," I ask, pulling a scoop of the green powder out of the jar. I love baths, but I don't like having to ask permission before taking one.

"That's too much." She grabs my hand and shakes out the appropriate amount. "Now, sprinkle that in, and another. Be careful with the yellow. It has a tendency to spill and is difficult to clean up."

I throw the powders in the tub and applaud when it fills with water. I want to know how they do that. And how do they get it to the right temperature?

"A quick bath. We haven't much time if you want to see your demon before we go," she says before closing the door behind her.

I do as I'm told, but I don't have time to dry my hair. Albína is appalled that I'd let others see me this way, but I want enough time to visit with Lenox.

We wind our way around the castle. It's only my second day, but I'm already learning my way through the maze of corridors. When we reach the rooftop, Lenox has his head happily buried in a large bird. He reluctantly looks up and sends Albína scurrying back and slamming the door behind her.

He walks over to me, but I stop him because his mouth is covered in bird goo and feathers. "Now this is just gross," I explain while wiping off his mouth with a rag I found in the supply box. Lenox stands still for his grooming until I'm satisfied with my work. "There. Now you're back to your old handsome self."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Lenox does his inspection. He doesn't like my wet hair. He smells it for a long time and then tries to eat it.

"I just washed that. Don't be getting bird guts in it."

He stares back at his meal.

"All right. I only wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?"

I wish he could talk, because although he can understand me, I haven't a clue what he's thinking.

"Go eat your breakfast. I'll be back to check on you later."

He wastes no time returning to his meal and I retrieve Albína, who's hiding inside the doorway.

"I thought you were starting to like him."

"I'm trying, Miss," she answers while fixing my hair.

Jonah meets me at the entry to the castle and escorts me to a pub in the village whose name translates to 'The Brewer's Daft.' Dathid is already waiting out front, and when we walk in, it's quiet and practically empty. The elves keep a strict schedule, and breakfast is over.

The place is rather simple by elfin standards, with the exception of an inordinate number of spiral staircases scattered about. Some of the staircases are functional, but most lead to nowhere, ending in open space or at a beam or the ceiling.

I follow Jonah and Dathid as they wordlessly pick up a table and move it to the corner. Then they gather three chairs and invite me to sit.

"So you just grab a table and put it wherever you want?"

"Yes. How else would you do it?" Dathid asks.

"In America, most of the furniture in public places is stationary. You can only move something with permission of the management," Jonah explains.

"Sounds uncomfortable. What if you don't like where you're sitting?"

"Well, you either deal with it or you may be able to get another table," Jonah answers.

Dathid looks dumbfounded. After a moment of contemplation he asks, "So you leave the table you're at to go sit at another one?"

"If another is available."

"Huh," Dathid says with skepticism about the stationary furniture. "Sometimes I wish I could see the other side. It all sounds strange and magical."

"Magical?" Why would he choose that word?

"Yes. We read a lot of your literature and we see the lights of your towers. Television sounds fascinating. And the sun...one minute it's there and the next it's gone? Sounds terrifying. And you have so many rules for everything."

"We have a lot of rules?" I ask. "No one has more rules than elves. In New York, I'm allowed to eat when I want and wear what I want and no one cares. Here there's a rule for everything."

"Yes, humans love rules. That table rule is a good example," Dathid says defensively. We continue our debate until the food arrives.

I don't want them to leave me here alone. I have so much I want to say but I've already said it, so I don't have anything else to add.

After a few minutes Jonah says to Dathid, "You should have a seat on the council."

He answers with a mouth full of food. "They'll never allow two faeries on the council. My father has more experience anyway."

"You have a lot to offer, too."

"Thanks. I wasn't fishing for compliments. I just meant that my father should be there, and if not him, then my sister. She's the heir. They're much better at the politics than I am."

"Agatha doesn't need a politician. She needs people she can trust. And you're underselling your value. You have a wealth of knowledge she'll find useful."

Dathid turns to me with a crooked smile. "Well, if the elves ever give you a problem, I'll show you the best way to gut 'em."

Jonah shakes his head. "You have traveled over a good portion of Ashra, and you have encountered and fought many of the enemies she'll be facing. No one else on the council can say that."

Dathid folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. "I hate politicians."

"Good," Jonah says. "I'm going to order the fruit cup. Would you like dessert?"

"Yes, do they have that cake we had last night?" I ask, and Dathid cringes.

"They have something like it," Jonah says, but I'm not paying attention because Dathid looks like he's going to be ill.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks.

"You look like you're going to be sick."

"I can handle the smell of most elfin foods. Bread's tough, but dessert is disgusting."

"Okay, no dessert," I say.

"Go ahead and get it." It would've been a kind gesture if his face had cooperated, but he looks as if he smells something rotten.

Jonah deftly changes the subject, and we laugh and joke well past the end of the meal.

When the conversation dies down I ask, "So, when are you leaving?"

"When we're done here," Jonah answers.

I push my plate away and rest my chin against my hand. "I don't want you to go."

"We don't want to leave," Jonah says.

I'm knocked slightly off balance when Dathid bangs his elbow against mine and whispers, "I want to leave."

I smile at him. It's surprising how close we've become over the past couple of days. I trust him. I guess I always did. It took me a while to adjust to his demeanor, but it's just the way he is. This might be what it's like to have a brother.

We follow Jonah out of the pub and back to the castle. "Well, it's nice being outside," I say, trying to be chipper.

"Let's see if your feelings change once the physical training begins," Dathid says.

My heart drops to my stomach when Jonah turns down the path to the stables. "You're leaving now?"

He puts his arm around my shoulders as he nods to one of the grooms. How can he comfort me while planning his departure? The groom runs into the barn and returns with two unicorns already saddled and packed.

"Right now?" I shout. This is too fast. I thought I'd have more time. They're abandoning me. I want to grab Jonah and fall into a fit of temper until he promises to never leave me.

Instead, he hugs me and kisses my head. "We're coming back." He gently puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head so he can look into my eyes. "We're coming back," he repeats.

I wipe the tears that are forming. "I'll miss you."

"My thoughts will always be with you. Train hard and listen to Master Sarpedon. He knows best," Jonah says, then mounts his unicorn. I let him go without expressing all the words of protest that are racing through my mind.

I turn to Dathid, who looks so uncomfortable it would make me giggle if I weren't so sad. "I have a present for you," he says as his groom hands me an elaborately quilted bag.

"Why?"

He smiles. "Because I think you need it."

I open the bag to find an array of paint containers and brushes. I'm speechless. I've never had my own paints before. Or any paints, really. I used to scrounge for anything with color, and mixed and matched until I created something usable. "I don't know what to say," I whisper to the inside of the bag. "There are so many colors."

"Well, your walls looked rather dull. Those are Manahata paints, not the cheap elf stuff."

My head snaps up. "I couldn't. The Queen would kill me. She already doesn't like me. I couldn't ruin her room."

"It's your room. She can't kill you until you do what she needs. And if anyone tells you to stop, tell them you're under orders from the Crown Prince."

"Thank you," I say. "I wish I had more words for such a thoughtful gift."

"Jonah says I should be more like him." He grabs me and gives me an awkward hug before quickly releasing me.

"Oh," he adds as if he remembered something. He clutches my head about the ears and roughly drags me toward him so he can kiss the top of my head.

That makes me laugh.

He laughs too. "Okay, maybe I need to work on it a bit." He can be so charming when he tries.

Dathid mounts his unicorn before I can say any real goodbye to him. Then he salutes me and says, "Jwi héxé en koitep."

"Enjoyment in peace among you," I whisper, and half-heartedly salute back.

They both give me a wave. Then the two of them trot off, and I watch until they disappear around the corner.

I look down and kick at the stones under my boots. I'm all alone in a strange world with no friends and nowhere else to go. I lift my head and force my feet to take me back to my room. What am I supposed to do now?

To be continued...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now that Agatha has come to terms with her mission, does she have what it takes to actually become a Knight?

Click on the comment for the link to THE LOST GIRL, chapter 1 

If Stratagor Ziras doesn't kill me, my training program will!

Every day I wake up and go through the motions, but they've figured out that I'm not a Knight. I can't ride, I can't fight, I can't do magic, and worst of all, I can't see whatever it is I'm supposed to see in this stupid Orb.

Nothing is what it seems here. Everyone says they want what's best for me, but who can I trust? The lying snake? The feathery crocodile trying to lock me away? The Queen who wants me dead? Or the devil himself?

I don't know what I'm more afraid of—the enemies that have made several attempts on my life or my allies now that they know they've made a huge a mistake.