Names are money, thank-yous are debts, and your little brother is the prize.
Your little brother followed music through a gap in the hedge that wasn't there yesterday. You followed
him. Now you stand in a court of endless dusk where every favor is a contract, every thank-you is a debt, and your name
is worth more than gold.
The fae claimed him fair and square. To win him back, you will have to play their game better than they do, armed
with a mortal's one advantage: you can lie. Just don't get caught.
