“Sorry,” I say while awkwardly pushing myself away and trying to regain my footing. God, this is humiliating. I shoot an annoyed glare at Sylvia’s smug little face. She just shrugs innocently in response.
Robin looks between us, partially in confusion and partially in amusement. I brush myself off and follow the Fairies out to the woods in silence, but I can still feel my cheeks burning.
As we reach the palace steps, Robin stops abruptly. “Sylvia,” he asks shyly, “Is there a way for me to communicate with my father... through you? I mean, I can feel his presence and his mood... but I want to talk to him. Is that possible?”
“We can try,” Thorim says in his stoic and soothing voice. “Don’t worry, child. We will guide you through this. That’s what makes the Fae so special. We are all conn
