From the introduction: Even faeries were young once. They don’t talk much about the immortals before they become ancient, before their beauty grows fractal depth beneath the unchanging surface of their skin. But even immortals are first children, uneven and unrefined. They are kept away from the courts and away from mortals as they shift and grow, change not just their appearance but their nature. Only adults have one true name. When you are young you don’t know who you are. Someday you will be refined to a point, into a blade that cuts through time. Uncertainty isn’t something you’ve had much chance to witness or learn, but still you feel it brewing inside you along with all the desires, fears, obsessions, the things that will eventually winnow down into your name. There are so many things you cannot say. You are bound by truth and you do not yet know what the truth is. When you are young there are a hundred trembling possibilities inside you, waiting to burst forth and be chosen. You have a hundred names.