" A rippling murmur echoed through the grove behind her. Emeline turned to see people emerging from the shadows of the trees, gathering to cluster and stare. Clothed in leather and fine wool, delicate lace and soft silk, they held themselves with moonlit grace. Their eyes shone too bright and their shadows twisted behind them, hinting at other shapes.
They were... not quite human.
Remembering Tom's stories, Emeline knew this was the shiftling court.
I'm really here, she thought, resisting the urge to pinch herself. All the stories were true. "

― Kristen Ciccarelli , Edgewood