"Yuri?" I said, looking at my friend.

"Yes, it's my name," said my friend, rolling his expressive green eyes. He pointed at the dark-haired man in front of him, who had the look of affectionate patience one might wear with a wayward sibling. "It's Piggy's name too. Half the children in the mountain villages are named Yuri."

The other Yuri didn't appear to notice or care about the less-than-flattering nickname my friend had used. I didn't see why my friend would call the other Yuri a pig; his figure was as slender as my friend's, though he was clearly a man grown. The seated Yuri regarded me as steadily as I him, though his air of warmth and welcome never faltered.

"We are very happy to see you here, human," enthused the silver-haired fae beside him. He reached out for my hands and clasped them, which I allowed. Once I had processed his shocking beauty, I noticed the delicate circlet atop his head, a simple design of silvered wood fashioned into vine-like form and twined together. Then I realized I was not allowing anything, for indeed this must be the king of the fae lands here.

He pressed one hand over his heart, releasing mine. "My name is Viktor. The fae lands here are in my care. And this is my beloved and brilliant consort, Yuri." Next to him, the dark-haired Yuri colored, smiling shyly. "He is also a human!" Viktor looked delighted by this fact, glancing back and forth between me and his consort. "You have very little power, though. How interesting."

"My skills are not magical in nature," I felt compelled to explain, though Viktor's joyous attitude made it hard to take offense.

"What he has is strong," my Yuri interjected, as though he'd taken the offense I hadn't. "Strong enough to cross my bridges from his own dreams without ever knowing the path. Is that strong enough for you?"

"Extraordinary." Viktor beamed, magnificently benign.

"But he came to me," my Yuri bit out. "I didn't go haring off on some ridiculous adventure and drag him home as some kind of piggy prize."

"I came because I wanted to," the consort Yuri corrected gently. "Viktor did not force me."

"We didn't have need of you," my Yuri hissed. "Our magic is more than enough to heal the damage. Your human power can scarcely work our lands."

"Yuri," said Viktor, taking my friend's face in his hands. Though the move seemed gentle, I noted that the grip was firm - not threatening, but firm. "The longer my consort remains here, the more his magic will change to suit the land. We are blessed to have him here."

My Yuri twisted out of his grip, lower lip jutting up as his brows lowered.

It felt like the correct time to say something. Anything. My mind always went towards problems and worked at them until I could produce a solution; it was one of the reasons being a hero had always been a natural choice for me. "May I ask, what is the damage you speak of?"

"Of course you may ask, honored guest," said Viktor. But some of what appeared to be his naturally jovial nature fell away, leaving the elegant lines of his face bare like exposed marble. "It is a sad issue that has plagued us for a generation now. Something about the land has withered, taking its hand from us. With it went our fertility, our children. Births are so rare now that we have been forced to resort to changelings to keep our population up, such as our young Yuri here."

He waved a hand to indicate my friend. Yuri went from white to hot red in an instant. "I am not a changeling!" he shouted. "And if you had eyes in your head for anything but your new beloved, you would know that! I am fae!" His wings flared with his fury, even the small ones at his ankles and wrists shaking. "I have been fae my entire life! How dare you!"

From the look on his face, Viktor knew he'd made a grave misstep. "Yuri-"

"Forced to resort! What a disaster for you it has been to have me here!" Yuri stomped his foot as though he might crack open the earth beneath it. "A nightmare! With my magic that outshines even yours!"

"No one questions your talent," said the other Yuri calmly, as though he'd weathered thousands of my friend's storms.

My Yuri scoffed, tossing his golden hair back. "One would have to be more of an idiot than you are a pig! A glutton for the magic of our lands!" Dropping the other Yuri from his attention like a sack of rocks, he flung a finger out at Viktor in accusation. "Who heals the land as it dreams? Me. Who casts the illusions that keep our miserable people entertained as their hearts shrivel up for lack of little fae litters? Me. Who has put up with your disgusting sentimentality and this, this latest, this, this-" Yuri sputtered briefly. "This folly? Me! How lucky for you that I don't need your approval and you have your blessed perfect mate. And surely no need of me!"

Viktor's blue eyes widened. There was something highly sympathetic about him; one could not help but feel what he felt. I didn't know if it was a fae quality or something more personal, but I could feel his guilt and pain, for himself, for hurting someone he loved like a brother, for his people and their hopelessness and fear. "Yuri, you know I don't mean-"

Yuri turned on his heel, still piercingly graceful even in the midst of his pique, and walked out. I followed after him as he stomped through the hallway, his fists clenched at his side.

I had not intended to ask him anything. Yuri was clearly in a temper and I could wait until he calmed down. But Yuri began to speak without my prompting.

"I don't remember anything before I was brought here," he bit out in a low voice. "I was very young, some slovenly human grub before the age of memory. I turned fae very quickly. Viktor said, he used to say, he never saw any child change so quick as I did. Take to the magic here so well."

He took a sharp left, charting a new course through the winding paths carved into the tree. I could tell we were not headed the way we came, though where Yuri might be taking me in his temper was beyond me. But I trusted him.

"And Viktor, he is our king, our purest blood, a line of magic and power unbroken from the First to the Present. All of that, and I am as exceptional as he is." Yuri shot me a stormy look, his green eyes dark. "Without the benefit of his pedigree. I will surpass him, I know that too. He is tired of this role. He wants to settle down, probably plant a whole garden full of fae seedlings with that pig of his, once the land is healed."

"You should not call him a pig," I said. "He seems a kind soul."

"Who cares? He is so hungry for our magic he slops at it like a pig at the trough," Yuri said contemptuously. "His human power is good for human problems. I didn't understand at all why Viktor brought him here, too aged to change, full of human magic. Viktor swears his magic will change to fit our lands and the piggy spends all day casting, resting, and casting again to hasten the process. As if you can hurry such a thing."

Yuri took another few turns in the labyrinth. Despite my best efforts at noting landmarks here and there, the endless wooden halls looked much alike after a time.

"And is the land healing?"

"It is slow work," Yuri said shortly. "And our people wail and despair as though their children were dying instead of never born." He gave a shrug and turned one more corner. We passed underneath another open arch, and within it a wide, gracious room that looked mostly unused. The floor was beaten earth, cleared of obstacles, and sheets of mirrored glass lined either side. I had never seen so much mirrored glass in one place before and tried not to gape.

Instead, I looked at Yuri, who was tying back his hair with a ribbon he'd caught up from a basket at the side of the arch. He understood my question from the look on my face. "I lied," he said, coloring slightly. He raised his chin. "There is one thing I remember. If I'm the changeling," he looked as though he might gag on the word, "you are seeking, perhaps this will confirm or deny it."

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, then exhaled, releasing them. With his exhalation, some of the tension left his body. He stepped forward and raised his arms, and I pressed back against the wall to give him space. I recognized his elegant pose as one he used to begin his illusions, precisely calculated for beauty and appeal, as though his grace made his natural magic even stronger. No wonder he was so powerful, I thought.

He closed his eyes, long lashes glimmering against his pale cheeks, and leapt into his dance.