by Emma Savant
Glimmers of Garlands
EMMA SAVANT
Copyright © 2016 Emma Savant
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Emma Savant.
Editing by Elayne Morgan, www.serenityeditingservices.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
www.EmmaSavant.com
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Elayne Morgan for donating her editing services for this short story. In the spirit of the season, her generous gift has been paid forward in the form of Christmas presents for local foster children and a donation to the Humane Society.
Happy holidays!
Glimmers of Garlands
Snow glittered along the tops of the Alps, dazzling white in the sun. Last night’s storm had left the peaks and valleys around Institut Glänzen looking clean and fresh, and I had to squint against the brightness.
I cast a quick protection charm and let my eyes relax. No one needed premature wrinkles from squinting at all this beauty every day. From here, at the peak of the mountains, my view was all jagged stone crests and crevices filled hundreds of feet deep with ancient ice and snow. It was stunning, but relentlessly white, and the sky behind it, relentlessly blue.
Thank Titania for the conservatory.
I turned away from the enormous glass windows and back to the greenhouse. The place was a glorious mess of leaves, interrupted by the colorful blooms of plants whose names I could never remember.
Olivia could name them all, probably. I felt a familiar pang that she wasn’t with me. I’d never expected her to give up her quirky Humdrum dreams and join me, not really, but I still couldn’t stop myself from wishing.
Still, I had her to thank for getting me here. After the godmothers at Wishes Fulfilled had learned that I’d cheated on my exams, I’d thought Glänzen was a lost cause. But Olivia had defended me, using her clout as the new Faerie-Queen-in-training to make sure my spot here was secure.
I sank into the cushions atop a wicker armchair and turned back to my textbook. Fourteen pages down, thirty-three to go. No one had warned me university would come with this much reading.
Centering one’s energy is of paramount importance, according to Bell, and only the purest concentration of emotional energy will lend itself to superior faeriecraft. Modern leaders of the Bell tradition…
The sound of opera rose from my pocket.
It was an aria from Lei Roi Carotte. I recognized it from the recent trip a group of girls from my dorm had taken to France. We’d spent a long weekend attending operas and ballets, buying expensive lingerie, and eating pastries like we were never going to see carbs again.
The opera got louder. I set my book down and fished a small compact mirror out of the pocket of my jeans. The mirror was practically vibrating from the sounds of some invisible soprano trying to screech my ear off.
“Sorry!” I called out to anyone who might be in the conservatory, hidden behind the foliage.
I snapped the mirror open.
“Great Titania on a cracker, what?” I said.
Olivia’s face swam into focus in front of me. She frowned, her dark eyebrows drawing together in an anxious look I knew all too well.
“Is this a bad time?”
I leaned back into my chair. “No, the timing’s great, you just… Why was my mirror singing opera?”
“Opera?”
“Really loud opera,” I said. “Like, really loud. Like, pretty sure everyone in the entire palace knows you called.”
She winced. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do anything to it. I just really wanted to talk to you.”
I smirked. “I could tell, Faerie Queen. I miss you too.”
Her face relaxed, though I still felt waves of tension coming off of her. That was nothing new—Olivia was always tense about something—but there was a different texture to this, a sense that she’d called for a reason.
“But I’m going to be home for the holidays in two days,” I said. “So you can’t miss me that much. What’s going on?”
“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s probably nothing. And I do miss you that much. How’s school going?”
I felt out through the tiny mirror. Her aura felt thick and busy, like she was wrapped in tendrils that wouldn’t stop moving. “Nice try,” I said. “What’s up?”
She tried to run a hand through her hair. As always, her fingers got stuck in a curl and she gave up.
“There’s something really weird happening in Portland,” she said. “I don’t know if it’s anything, but Amani and the Council are kind of worried.”
“Are you worried?”
“That’s the thing,” she said. “I can’t tell. Everyone thinks something is happening, but I think… I don’t know, maybe they’re being paranoid? But I don’t know.”
I shifted on the chair, slinging my legs over the wicker arms. Linden would have a fit if he saw me disrespecting the conservatory furniture like that, which was all the more motivation to do it. I was about one condescending remark away from hexing that particular teacher’s assistant right down the mountain.
“What’s going on?” I said. “Start at the beginning, Liv.”
“It sounds innocent,” she said. “A few weeks ago, someone donated a ton of coats and blankets and socks to a homeless shelter downtown. It made the Humdrum news, and Councilwoman Destry caught the broadcast and noticed that one of the blankets was quilted with kelpie hair.”
“Destry’s one of the sprites, right?”
“Yeah, she represents the Sprites’ Alliance.”
That made sense. Anyone else might mistake the thread for plain green cotton, but a sprite would know the hair of another water creature when she saw it.
“We sent a few Proctors to investigate, and they found unicorn hair in some of the blankets and Pegasus down in a few of the coats.”
Olivia’s face was much too stressed for what sounded like the actions of a Glimmering Good Samaritan. “And then the coats blew up and killed a bunch of homeless guys?”
She blinked at me. “Um, no.”
“So what’s the deal?”
“A week later, someone started handing out free chocolate truffles at the mall. They were filled with strawberry cream laced with fairy dust. By the time someone from Glim law enforcement got there, the person was gone.”
“And?”
“And the mall was full of blissfully happy Humdrum shoppers who had no idea what hit them.”
“Okay, slightly verging on illegal,” I said. “Wish I’d thought of it. We should’ve done that during one of those boring assemblies our freshman year. Remember Principal Donovan?”
Olivia shuddered. “So much school spirit,” she said. “So much.”
“Was it an actual secrecy breach?”
“No, the Hums were clueless,” she said. “Probably assumed it was Christmas spirit.”
“I’m still not seeing the problem.”
“And then yesterday,” she said, like we were finally coming to the point, “someone left a ton of presents at an animal shelter. One of the employees walked into work to find every single animal curled up with a stuffed animal or blanket or chew toy that hadn’t been there before.”
“Aww.”
“Yeah, it’s swee
t, but someone used magic to get in there. The employee who tipped us off is a witch and she said there was magical energy clinging to all the toys and the animals.”
I pulled the mirror closer to my eyes. Olivia’s face was tiny, but I could still see the stress lines forming on her forehead. “I still don’t see why you’re stressed about this. It’s not like Glims have never used magic for breaking and entering before.”
“It’s just,” she said, and then pressed her lips together.
“What?”
“It’s just, everyone remembers how the Oracle used to operate,” she said. She flushed, her milk-pale skin taking on enough of a pink tinge that she almost looked healthy for a second.
I had felt her discomfort, but it hadn’t been enough to prep me for hearing that name. The pit of my stomach turned over, and I pressed my own lips together to try to keep my face calm.
Olivia knew this conversation might hurt me, but we’d talked about it and we’d agreed: We couldn’t skirt around mentioning Kelda forever.
She was a part of our past, whether we liked it or not, and we had to cope with that.
I had to cope with that.
Olivia waited long enough for me to take a few deep breaths. I could practically feel her biting on the inside of her cheek.
“How?” I said. “Like, using magic when she shouldn’t?”
“No,” Olivia said. She frowned. “Not so much that. It’s that, well, they’re using magic to help people.”
It sounded ridiculous. But as the words sunk in, I got it.
Kelda had been all about helping people with her powers. She’d just ended up trying to help the Humdrums out of Portland, too, and it had almost sent our world into war. No wonder the Council was skittish.
“Do you think she’s back?” I said quietly.
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “I want to say everyone’s just being overcautious.” She trailed off, leaving the but unspoken and hanging in the air.
“And you want to know what I think.”
She nodded and bit her lip. “I want your help, actually. I know you’re coming home to see your family and I totally don’t want to get in the way of that. You’d just be the best person in the world to help me figure this out.”
A wave of hot relief flooded through me, going straight to my belly like a swallow of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s day. Outside the windows, the snowy mountains seemed to take on a warmer color.
“I would love for you to get in the way of that,” I said. “Love it. I have been dreading coming home like you would not believe, and so I would super love to do whatever my future queen asks of me because that is something my parents can’t argue with.”
Olivia’s eyebrow quirked.
“Um, what?” she said.
I could practically feel my toes starting to dance. The thought of leaving my beautiful school and spending almost a month at home had been making my skin crawl, but now, I had a sudden urge to start packing. I’d been looking forward to seeing Olivia, of course, but my mom was very “holidays are about family,” and I hadn’t thought my ultra-busy best friend would have much time for me even if I had been able to manage an escape. But now, it sounded like she was planning on seeing me as much as I wanted to see her, and it made me want to cry.
“I want to help,” I said. “Whatever you need.”
“You don’t want to spend Christmas with your family?”
I stuck my tongue out and made a gagging noise. “I was going to tell you this when I got home because it’s supposed to be a ‘family secret’ or whatever, but Maia is pregnant.”
So unbelievably, completely, obnoxiously pregnant that I’d barely been able to get through my last mirror conversation with her. I’d had to pretend I was late to a Proctor Club meeting so I could get away before I smashed the mirror and landed myself with a zillion years bad luck.
Olivia winced. “Ow,” she said, drawing the word out long enough that I knew she understood how bad this was.
“Did you know that you don’t truly know love until you’re a mother?” I said. I’d learned this from Maia during our last conversation, along with a thousand things about her cervix that I did not need to know. “Did you know that unless you start everything you say with the phrase ‘As a mother,’ you may as well not even be talking? I swear to Titania, I’m going to kill her and then I’m going to get charged with double homicide because of her precious fetus and it’s going to ruin the holiday for everyone.”
“Or I could just keep you busy,” Olivia said. “So busy. I mean, so busy. This is a definite crisis.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” She grinned, and suddenly I couldn’t wait to be home.
A high-pitched shriek cut across the yard, and Mom dashed out onto the porch.
“Imogen!” she shouted, loud enough to wake the neighbors. I barely had time to drop the handle of my luggage and brace myself before her arms were around me, squeezing way too tight.
Maia aside, it was good to be home.
I squeezed her back. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and had a dusting of flour in her hair where she must have brushed a stray strand from off her cheek. Behind her, the lights of the house twinkled brightly, and the lawn glittered with a light powdering of snow.
“Hi, Mom.”
She squeezed again, and then finally let go.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been jumping out of my skin for hours. How was the trip?”
“About how a bullet train ride from Switzerland usually is,” I said. “Long.”
“Beats a Humdrum airplane,” Mom said, and she had a point. The enchanted train that connected Glimmering Europe with the States may have taken a full twenty hours to get me home, but I’d shared a sleeping car with only one other Glänzen student, and she’d been decent company. Besides, it was hard to beat the portion of the journey that took us over the ocean. The floating tracks rose and fell with the waves, and the weather had been bad enough that it felt like we were climbing over shifting mountains. Lots of other people on the train had said the choppy waves made them queasy, but I never minded a little adventure.
Mom bustled me inside. The house was warm and smelled incredible. The chandelier in the entryway was lit with real candles and draped with evergreen garlands, and the light made the cherry hardwood floor and staircase banister gleam. A fire crackled in the living room to my left.
“Leave your luggage on the rug,” Mom said, gesturing at the mat by the front door. The charm on the mat would dry the suitcase and remove the wrinkles from my clothes, leaving me free to investigate whatever the amazing smell from the kitchen was.
Dad was standing in the kitchen, wearing his “World’s Greatest Microwaver” apron and two mitts. He was staring at the oven with his hands on his hips, frowning at it like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“Your father is doing Humdrum cooking,” Mom said in a low voice.
“Yeah, he texted me about it,” I said. “It’s a weird hobby.”
“We’re not talking about it.”
Alerted by our voices, Dad turned. In an instant, his face transformed from deep concern to delight. In another instant, I was being squished to death by his apron and mitts. I let myself be buried myself in the hug. No one gave hugs like my Dad, and I let him hold on as long as he wanted, which was a few seconds more I'd expected.
“I missed you, kid,” he said, blue eyes all lit up with happiness at seeing me. “I hate you being gone. It’s like, boom, no more kids in the house. We’re old people now.”
“You have like four grandkids,” I pointed out.
“Five,” Mom said. “Maia’s pregnant. I don’t know if she’s mentioned it.”
The snark in her voice was thick enough to cut, but unlike me, she was being good-natured.
“Speaking of,” I said. “When’s everyone going to get here?”
Mom glanced at the clock.
“Too soon,” she said. “Jennifer and Gabby will
be here in the morning, and everyone’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”
Dad opened the oven and peered inside. He looked deeply concerned.
“Can I invite Olivia?” I said.
Mom pursed her lips. I could practically feel a speech on family time forming in her mouth, but Dad cut her off before she had a chance to speak.
“Have her get here early,” he said, still looking at the oven like it had just delivered bad news. “She likes Humdrum things. Maybe she can figure out how to keep cakes from falling.”
“You have a wand,” I said.
“I’m learning to create nourishment with my own two hands,” he said, as severely as he was capable of saying anything—so, about like a teddy bear. “Have her be here at six. Maybe five. I don’t know. Are you supposed to put yeast in cakes, maybe?”
It was five-thirty. Olivia hadn’t arrived yet, but the house was already in full chaos mode. My second-oldest sister, Jennifer, had arrived first with her husband and three-year-old daughter, followed by my oldest sister, Crystal, and her three kids. My nieces and nephews were adorable but loud, and they ran around the house screaming while the adults all talked over each other in the kitchen.
“There is nothing wrong with genetically modified crops,” Nicole said, waving a poppy-seed muffin around to emphasize her points.
“I’m not saying all GMOs are harmful, but I’m not willing to assume they’re fine if they haven’t gone through years of rigorous testing,” Jasmine said. “I’m just skeptical.”
“Every study I’ve read—”
The doorbell rang. I darted through the kitchen doorway, ducking past Crystal and Jennifer’s husbands, who were talking about the new Lightning Rod car.
“Elven manufacturing has really set a new standard in sea-to-sky transport,” Michael said as I slipped down the hallway.
I threw the door open. Olivia was standing there, wrapped in a purple scarf that looked like it was about to swallow her. Her face lit up when she saw me, and I couldn’t stop from shrieking as I threw my arms around her. She hugged me back and rocked me from side to side.
