It was a bright and beautiful day once again in the fairy kingdom of Fairylynch.
The artificial morning light came down through the high arched windows of the palace in long, slow rivers of gold, and wherever that light touched marble it turned the stone the color of warm cream.
Dust motes drifted in the shafts like tiny lazy stars.
Outside, the gardens of Fairylynch were loud with magical bugs and brighter still with blossoms that opened only when the queen was said to be in a pleasant mood, which, as far as the flowers could tell, was nearly always.
Inside the great hall, the air smelled of crushed rose petals, warm sugar, steeped silverleaf tea, and the sweet smoke of candles that had been lit for no reason except that Titania liked the way they looked beside a teapot.
Queen Titania sat at the center of it all as if the kingdom itself had been arranged only to keep her cup full and her laughter easy.
