Seventy:
Oberon
The illusion was everything that I wanted. Gretel had set everything up for me. She’d made Emma twenty-one again, the age she’d been when we married. She’d also made her a fairy, like me. Pointed ears and wings and everything. Emma wore a dress made of white, and we were dancing together. There was a band of fae playing musicians made of trees and flowers and the effect was a haunting, otherworldly song that no one had ever listened to.
Emma looked around; her eyes wide with horror. We were dancing, and she pulled away abruptly. She felt her ears, and a scream came from her. “No!”
I smirked. “Is there a problem, my love?”
“This isn’t right,” she told me, “this never happened. I destroyed you. I got out. I never becam
