“I have not seen nor heard her speak of any such project, Your Highness,” the golem said. It was quite uncertain about the proper etiquette in this situation.

The prince laughed. He was lounging on a couch and taking occasional sips from a long, slender glass. “There’s no need for that,” the prince declared. “Besides, the only title I accept is Fabulous.” He paused and waggled his eyebrows at the golem, who remained silent. The prince sighed. “So,” he said, apparently bored, “what tidings do you bring me from my one and only sibling?”

“Well, Your Fabulousness—”

The prince burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s marvelous. But please: refrain in the future or I will never be able to sit through your message without falling off this couch.”

“But what should I call you?”

“Call me Opal. I am dazzling and changeable enough, no?” Again, a beat of silence. Again, the prince sighed. “Look at me, fishing for compliments from animated clay. You’d better convey your message before I embarrass myself any further.”

At its core, this is a story of abuse and denial. This is not my favorite subject matter, but it is treated respectfully and the story is artfully crafted. Fagan keeps the reader slightly off balance as the tale moves back and forth between a dreary, sullied reality and the disorienting unreality of dark fantasy, or perhaps nightmare.