Crown of Whispers

by Isabella August

  Zoe groaned over his shoulder, and he set her down carefully among the glass hedges. Beatrice hurried toward Zoe, eyeing the man warily. The secretary leaned into her arms, blinking. Her bright green eyes focused on Beatrice hazily. “What… what’s going on?” she slurred. There was still a hint of fear in her tone that suggested she’d had her own waking nightmares.

  “I think the Lady of Secrets sent some faeries out to meet us,” Beatrice said grimly. “Are you okay?”

  Zoe pressed her forehead into Beatrice’s shoulder. She’d begun to shiver uncontrollably… but not from the cold. “I will be,” she whispered. “Eventually.” Zoe looked up toward the man with the glass crown. “You saved my ass,” she said. “I owe you one.”

  “Ugh,” the man muttered. He ran his fingers back through silvery hair, clearly uncomfortable with the comment. “I thought the whole point of this is that none of us owes each other anything.”

  “Someone want to introduce me?” Beatrice asked carefully.

  Dorian knelt down next to Beatrice, pressing a hand to Zoe’s shoulder. Open worry flashed in his gray eyes now—but Zoe shook her head at him, and he turned back toward Beatrice.

  “Monsieur Fisher,” Dorian said slowly, “This is Beatrice.” He moved his hand back to Beatrice’s shoulder and stood up. “Trix… this man is the Lord of the Looking Glass.”

  The man in the crown snapped his fingers—and the shards of glass that surrounded them surged, flashing in the air like a tornado of light. Slowly, they settled back into their original shapes—trees, flowers, hedges, even little blades of grass. He smiled wryly at Beatrice.

  “You can call me Gabe,” he said.

  Chapter 12

  “I was hoping to take us into the Looking Glass pretty quick, so we could have our chat,” Zoe groaned, as she stumbled back to her feet. “But those… things… were waiting for me at the Hidden Path. I’ve never run into anything like them before.”

  “I’ve seen them skulking around every once in a while,” Gabe said. “I never knew what they were, though, or who they worked for.” His strange golden eyes swept over them all now, and he frowned. “We’re still technically in the Hedge, just outside of the Looking Glass. We should start moving this little party back to my place. Faerie lords can’t walk into each other’s realms without an invitation, so we’ll be safer there.”

  This is a faerie lord, Beatrice thought dimly. She stared at Gabe, trying to square her experiences so far with the reality of the man in front of her. “Are you… really from New York?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

  Gabe had begun to walk in front of them, parting the glass Hedges before him as though they were made of insubstantial light. He paused at that and looked back toward her, bemused. “I want to lie and say all faerie lords are from New York… but it’s getting harder and harder for me to tell straight-up lies.” He shrugged. “Originally, yeah—I was human. Call this a mid-life career change if you want.”

  Beatrice raised one skeptical eyebrow. “You’re younger than I am,” she said.

  Gabe chuckled. “Damn, you’re tossing me softballs now,” he muttered. “Come on, Zoe, tell her I’m a zillion years old or something.”

  “He’s like… in his twenties, I think,” Zoe said, wrinkling her nose. Gabe shot her an injured look, and she rolled her eyes. “You need to get used to dodging the truth on your own, man. I’m not gonna lie for you just because you want to pretend to be Gandalf.” The secretary leaned on Beatrice’s shoulder as they started following after Gabe.

  “Gabriel is a recent faerie lord,” Dorian told Beatrice quietly. “There are a few like him. For a while, they retain their humanity… but the mantle eventually overrides what remains of their identity. In time, they become faeries like the rest.”

  “I heard that,” Gabe called back cheerfully. The Hedges shifted and clinked around him, throwing golden light across their path. “I’m sure you don’t hear this often, Secret-Keeper, so savor it: you’re wrong. Some of us aren’t so willing to let go of what we are. But you suspected that already.”

  Dorian glanced toward Zoe. “I wondered what had you so often in the Hedge,” he said flatly. “You’ve made common cause with the Infected. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is, Zoe—”

  “I hate to break it to you, Dorian,” Zoe interrupted him shortly, “but you’re technically Infected. You’re a faerie with a ton of good old infectious humanity. And if you’re really, really lucky, that might mean the other Infected are willing to help you out.”

  “Of course we’re willing to help,” Gabe said. He paused, then amended: “I’m willing to help. And Valentine. Liam thinks we ought to kill the Vault before he spills any more of our secrets… but that’s probably just his mantle talking. And anyway, we overruled him.”

  Zoe raised her eyebrows at that. “Oh,” she said. “I’m, uh… glad you’re working things out democratically.”

  Gabe shook his head. The motion sent cascades of light flickering madly around them. “Valentine used her creepy stare,” he said. “It was super-effective.”

  “Did you just call the Lady of the Deeps a pokémon?” Zoe snorted.

  “Let’s focus on the important stuff,” Gabe said smoothly. “Why isn’t the Wanderer watching your back, Zoe?”

  Zoe pressed her lips together. “Simon went back with the Lady of Briars,” she said. “I thought about sending him a message… but if I did, she’d find out what’s going on. I know she’s come a long way, but I’m still not sure I trust her to handle this super well.”

  Gabe sighed heavily. “Fair,” he muttered. “There’s a reason I don’t invite her over for tea.”

  Beatrice sucked in a deep breath. “Dorian’s not the only one who’s picked up too much humanity,” she observed. “That’s what you’re saying. There’s more of you.”

  Gabe glanced back toward her. “That’s the gist,” he said. “And we’re doing a pretty decent job of holding onto that humanity so far—but Arcadia really doesn’t like the idea. We’re the annoying fly in the room. Some of the other faerie lords have started to, uh… try and swat us.”

  Beatrice looked sharply at Zoe. “The secrets in Dorian’s head,” she said. “The ones the Lady of Secrets was looking at most—they belong to your Infected faerie lords.”

  Zoe clenched her jaw. “I think it’s safe to say the Lady of Secrets is one of the fly-swatters,” she muttered. “A really… really dangerous one. There’s no telling how much dirt she’s got on all of them by now. I’m sure Dorian’s not the only person gathering secrets for her.”

  “My existence pre-dates the first Infected of which I know,” Dorian murmured. “I doubt I was meant to gather their secrets specifically… but I’ve come across a fortuitous number of those secrets anyway. I imagine I have done a great amount of damage by now.” He sounded bleak.

  “Shit happens,” Gabe sighed. He turned to face them directly. “You were trying to help, if I’m not totally off the mark. I appreciate that. So does Valentine. We’re not going to leave you in the lurch. But... I gotta say, it’d go a long way toward making Liam less grumpy if we knew you were willing to stick around afterward. We need allies. None of us can do this alone.”

  Dorian glanced toward Zoe, who scowled at him leadingly.

  “I… cannot see that I have much choice in the matter,” he observed slowly. “I have relatively few options open to me.”

  “That’s a yes,” Beatrice interrupted Dorian. She crossed her arms. “From both of us. This faerie lady thinks I’ve got something she wants. I can’t possibly run far enough to get away from her. I don’t know how much use I’ll be, but I pay my debts.”

  Gabe shot her a half-smile. “We’re always hiring,” he joked. “Uh—but just to be clear, that doesn’t mean I want your soul. I’m so not in the market for any more warlocks. I didn’t even want the one I’ve already got.” He spread his hands to either side, and Beatrice realized that the mirrored Hedge had now melted into mirrored b
uildings. The skyline was vaguely familiar; after a moment, she managed to place it.

  They were walking through a facsimile of New York City.

  “Welcome to the Looking Glass,” Gabe said. “Home sweet home.”

  The streets in the Looking Glass version of New York City twisted and turned strangely, connecting in ways that the real city didn’t. As they walked, the buildings became more realistic-looking and less mirrored—but the walls still glinted and threw back light where the aura of Gabe’s crown brushed them. He walked with unerring precision, leading them to a copy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

  As they walked through the entry area, they passed a giant, sprawling tree. Golden leaves covered the floor; they glinted like metal, but they crunched underfoot like living leaves. Beatrice found herself staring at their surroundings in awe-filled confusion.

  “I keep forgetting you’ve never been to Arcadia before,” Dorian said to her quietly. “This is… relatively tame stuff.”

  “Mirror cities and metal trees are tame?” Beatrice muttered disbelievingly. She retrieved her silver dollar from her blouse pocket, weaving it nervously between her fingers. “Jesus. I know I said we were going to figure this out, but… I’m a hundred percent out of my depth. There’s gotta be a book or a website I can read to get up-to-date on this stuff.”

  “Simon’s the closest thing to a walking encyclopedia of Arcadia,” Zoe tossed back helpfully. “But even he’s never mentioned this Lady or her realm. I’ve gotta assume she’s been pretty good at keeping it low-key.” She glanced toward Dorian. “I don’t guess you know anything you could share?”

  Dorian shook his head slowly. “Trix recovered some of my memories recently,” he said. “But they are things I cannot talk about, even in trade.” He paused, and his face darkened. “I have used up the last of Trix’s debt, in any case. I had to walk very close to the line in order to do so.”

  “Well, I can help a little bit there,” Gabe informed them. “At least with info.” He brought them into a large, yawning exhibit room with broad windows scattered along the walls. A great glass throne caught Beatrice’s eyes—but it was only the reflection of a throne, threaded through with a thousand little golden cracks.

  Gabe pressed his palm against one of the windows that looked out onto a sunny New York City street. The light in the window warped and changed; the view darkened, and the world beyond became a twisted, claustrophobic hallway that Beatrice recognized.

  “Is that… Dorian’s mind?” Beatrice asked slowly.

  Gabe blinked. “No,” he said. “It’s another faerie realm. I figure it’s the… realm of secrets, or whatever you want to call it. I noticed that these hallways connected up to the Looking Glass in places, but I never knew where they went before now.”

  “So… you’re telling me we’ve got a way in?” Zoe asked cautiously.

  “And why, exactly, would you need a way in?” Dorian asked, with a fresh edge to his voice. “You cannot be considering walking into that realm, Zoe.”

  Zoe pressed her lips together. “I’m considering a lot of stuff,” she said. “There’s only so many ways to corner a faerie lord. If we want to get you out of her power, we have to offer her a trade she can’t afford to refuse. If she’s anything like you, then she’s also locked away a bunch of her own dangerous secrets… somewhere in there.”

  A thought occurred to Beatrice, at that. “I’m always up for info theft,” she said slowly. “But we might be making some assumptions here. There are some secrets outside that realm that the Lady really wants. Dorian hid a bunch of them somewhere, about ten years ago. Her faerie seemed to think Dorian gave them to me.” She turned toward Dorian. “You told me you don’t remember what you did with those secrets. But I remember every word of our last conversation, Dorian. You said that if I didn’t leave your vicinity, there was a risk my secret might come out. I think you were being literal.”

  Dorian’s expression turned grim. “Tu as raison,” he said. “I can’t destroy secrets. If I had to send you away either way, I would have assumed your secret would be safest with you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Those secrets would be too obvious if I left them out in the open. I would have locked them into a corner of your mind.”

  Beatrice knitted her brow. The silver dollar flipped across her fingers again, nervous. “I never noticed any extra memories hanging around in my head,” she told him. “T'es sûr?” You’re sure?

  Dorian shrugged. “The secrets would be… encrypted, is the word I think you used. You would need a key to access them. That would probably be something physical—something you keep very close, that you’re unlikely ever to throw away.”

  Beatrice froze.

  Her eyes flickered down toward the silver dollar between her fingers; Dorian’s gaze followed hers.

  “Mais voyons,” Beatrice whispered. “How could I not have noticed?”

  “I think it’s safe to say you weren’t looking,” Dorian said grimly.

  Beatrice stared down at the coin… and opened up her Witchsight.

  The surface of the silver dollar glimmered with the memory of her magic, sparking with orange electricity. There was nothing on the surface to indicate that the coin was anything but a particularly powerful, sentimental anchor… but then, as Dorian had said, Beatrice had never looked for anything else.

  “It’s there,” Zoe said abruptly. Her wide, green eyes were fixed upon the coin—and Beatrice remembered that she’d said her Witchsight was sharper than usual. “Don’t look. Listen.”

  Beatrice closed her eyes and focused.

  A soft gray whisper rose from the coin in her hand. It was subtle—barely there. But as Beatrice listened to it, she realized that it had always been there, since the day she’d left Montreal and never looked back. It had become such an ever-present fixture in her life that she simply hadn’t noticed.

  That whisper tickled into her brain, brushing up against a tattered vault of secrets at the bottom of her mind.

  “It is there.” Beatrice’s voice wavered on the words. I’ve had this all along, she thought. I’ve been carrying it for years. She closed her Witchsight and opened her eyes. “I don’t know if I could unlock it, though. I’ve never dived that deep into my own head. It’s kind of… awkward.”

  Gabe considered this carefully. “You could use the Looking Glass,” he said slowly. “That’s kind of what it does—it reflects what you bring in with you.” He paused. “I own this whole place. If something goes wrong, I’d be in a good position to help you out.”

  Beatrice dug her fingernails into her palms. “I don’t know if I want to put my whole brain on display for you,” she said. “For one thing, I don’t know how much I trust you. For another… I’m gonna be honest. It’s kind of a mess in there.”

  Gabe smiled ruefully. “You’ve already seen my messy brain,” he told her. He jerked his chin toward the mirror with the throne of cracked glass. “I’m not all there. Whatever you’ve got in your head, I’m the last person that ought to be judging you.”

  Beatrice looked away uncomfortably. We don’t have a whole lot of wiggle room, she thought. And people aren’t exactly lining up to help. “You can’t lie,” she said. “So… just answer me this. Do you intend any harm to me, Dorian, or Zoe?”

  Gabe shook his head slowly. “I don’t,” he said gently. “Honestly, I… I’d rather not hurt anyone at all, if I can avoid it.” The words came out with difficulty; Beatrice risked a glance at his face, and she saw the shadow of some old grief flicker across his features.

  Beatrice sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I’m considering this,” she muttered. She reached up to rub at her temples. “What about you, Dorian?” she asked. “Après tout, chaque secret a son prix. If… if I unlock some of these doors, won’t that be breaking your rules?”

  Dorian crossed his arms, leaning back against the glass. “It is incredibly against the rules,” he said softly. “But those rules bind me… and not you.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “We ne
ed information. If there is some cost to me for your actions, then… I will pay it.”

  Beatrice shifted on her feet. Her heart quickened painfully in her chest. I don’t want to hurt you, she thought. But she caught the words before they could leave her tongue. Dorian already knew.

  “We are in a difficult place, Trix,” Dorian told her. “I am sure there is something in those secrets which will help.”

  Beatrice winced. Rock, she thought, meet hard place. One way or another, Dorian was in a huge amount of trouble. At least this way, he had the chance to choose his trouble.

  She reached out toward him, snagging his tie between her fingers. Dorian blinked once—and then, she was up on her toes, with her lips on his and her arms around his neck.

  He still tasted like chocolate somehow. There was no way Dorian could have found himself a cup of hot chocolate in the time between waking up and ending up in the Looking Glass… but there it was, lingering on his tongue. Beatrice kissed him desperately, absorbing the taste of him, the scent of him. Slowly, he relaxed his muscles and settled his hands gently at her waist.

  None of it felt artificial or constructed—it was all him, Beatrice thought, perfectly like the Dorian that she had always known. That Dorian was unspeakably precious, no matter where he had come from. The way he held her, hard and reassuring; the way he kissed her as though she made up his entire world, just for a moment.

  You can’t disappear on me, Beatrice thought. Not now.

  Zoe coughed behind them. Slowly, Beatrice lowered herself and let go of Dorian, still leaning against his body. When she turned to look, Zoe was beet red, fiddling with her fingers.

  “Uh,” the secretary said sheepishly. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. It’s just… weird.” She coughed again and turned her back.

  Beatrice raised one eyebrow. Slowly, she began to reassess a few of her previous interactions with Zoe in a new light. Zoe had been unusually interested in Beatrice from the moment she’d learned about her previous relationship with Dorian. From the beginning, Dorian’s secretary had shown an odd need for Beatrice’s approval.