Kaila stepped from the iron shelter at the grove's edge and set her basket on the moss. She had come for one thing: to walk the path to the fae prince's court, and to be chosen by him as she was. The sun was already low. She had until dark. The serpent uncoiled from the carved stone pillar that marked the entrance. Its bark-bright scales caught the dying light. Its yellow eyes fixed on her hands. She set out the berries first. The serpent did not move. She set out the mushrooms. Still nothing. The basket emptied, and the snake only watched. Kaila knelt. She thought of every offering the grove had taken before — bread, salt, song. None of it was here now. What she had left was smaller and harder. She spoke aloud the name of her grandmother, who had died last winter, and the year it happened, and the hour. The serpent lowered its head. It slid sideways, slow, until the path lay open. The pillar's carvings darkened, as if listening. She gathered her empty basket and stepped through. Beyond the stone, a leaf-woven pavilion waited in the gloom. A lantern hung lit inside it. Someone had known she would come this far. Someone was expecting her next move.