I stare up at the stars, Des next to me, the two of us quiet.

Both of us have been plagued by worry, him for the Night soldiers, who still haven’t turned up, and me for what the Green Man told me.

“The creep’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” Temper said when we left.

Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. I haven’t yet been able to figure out the motives of fairies. Not even those of the one who lays next to me.

The King of the Night and I have returned to the Sacred Gardens. Last night this section of the palace grounds was teeming with activity. Now it’s utterly abandoned, the only evidence of the previous evening’s revelries is the wine-stained ground and the piles of ash where the bonfires burned out.

Des reaches out for my hand. Wordlessly, he brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

“I’ll be happy to leave this place,” he says.

I sigh. “Me too.”

My eyes move from star to star. The constellations are foreign to me but no less beautiful than they are on earth.

Out of nowhere, one of the stars begins to fall from the sky. I blink a few times, just to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. One moment it sat up in the heavens, the next it begins to descend, dropping from the sky as though gravity were pulling it to the horizon.

I’m still trying to make sense of the falling star when another one slips from its perch, leaving a faint, shimmery trail of light in its wake.

“Des!”

“Hmmm?” he responds lazily.

Then another star falls … and another and another, each one leaving its place in the canopy above us, each one dropping to where sky meets earth.

“The stars are falling from the sky!” That’s definitely a phrase I never imagined saying.

Now dozens are dropping from the cosmos, making the night look as though it’s crying the most exquisite tears.

I sit up, not able to tear my gaze away.

Just before any of them hit the horizon, they alter their trajectory, moving … towards us.

My brows knit. I glance over at Des, who still hasn’t responded.

He’s watching the sky too, but he doesn’t look alarmed or surprised. He reaches out for the heavens, the air wavering a little with his magic.

Then, perhaps the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, the fallen stars gather one by one into Des’s outstretched hand, looking just as tiny there in his palm as they did in the canopy above us.

I don’t breathe as he lowers his arm then holds his hand out to me. Cupped in his hand is starlight. I know stars aren’t this small. I reach out and touch them with my finger. They feel like grains of sand, and they’re warm to the touch.

I still can’t contain my surprise. “How did you … ?”

“I borrowed their light for an evening,” Des explains, starlight reflecting in his eyes.

I let out a surprised laugh, remembering our late night conversation on Phyllia, the Land of Dreams.

I would steal the stars from the sky for you.

You wouldn’t have to steal them Des.

“You made a deal with the stars?” I ask, incredulous.

“I asked nicely.” He says that as though there’s some distinction.

Now I throw my head back and laugh. He talked the stars out of the sky.

When my laughter finally dies away, Des is still staring intensely at me. “I told you I’d give you the stars for that laugh.”

He did.

He leans forward, bringing his cupped hand to the top of my head.

“What are you doing?” I ask, beginning to lean away.

“Be still, cherub.”

Reluctantly, I do as he asks, my body motionless.

All at once he pours the starlight onto the crown of my head.

I raise my eyebrows, still not moving. “Why did you just do that?” I ask, afraid of what will happen if I shake out my hair.

“The stars agreed that for an evening they’d hang the night sky in your hair.”

He’s still giving me that intense look. It makes me want to shyly tuck my hair behind my ear.

A small handheld mirror shimmers out of the ether and into Des’s palm. He hands it to me, and I take it, tentatively glancing down at my reflection.

I suck in a breath.

Hundreds of pinpricks of light glitter from my hair, the starlight clustered into constellations. I shake my head, and the starlight moves with it. It really does look like I’m wearing the night sky in my hair.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, tearing my eyes away from my reflection to look at Des.

It’s more than beautiful. It’s breathtaking, surreal. I glance above us, just to make sure I’m not imagining this, but I’m not. The dark sky overhead is missing its twinkling companions.

Des leans forward and kisses me, just the softest brush of his lips, before he stands. He straightens his fitted shirt, picking off a stray blade of grass. “I hate to cut the evening short, love, but we ought to get going. We do, after all, have another dance to attend.”