Glimmers of Scales

by Emma Savant

  Somehow, though, it was still important to me that they be together. It was still important that we be a family.

  “Hey,” Imogen said, kicking my knee softly with her foot.

  I swallowed hard and tried to look at her, feeling stupid. A moment later, her arms were around me.

  “It’s okay,” she said, voice gentle. “It’s okay to be upset.”

  “It’s stupid,” I said, forcing myself to be brisk so the tears would be frightened away. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it coming.”

  “Seeing a punch coming doesn’t make it hurt less,” Imogen said.

  A garbled laugh scratched its way up my throat. “You sound like a fortune cookie,” I said.

  “I am a freaking fortune cookie,” she said. “What do you think Proctors do all day?” She sat on the bed next to me, leaning her shoulder against mine. “You don’t have to be okay with it.”

  I wasn’t okay. But my parents’ marriage was falling apart no matter how I felt about it.

  “It’ll work out in the end,” Imogen said. “Love stories always work out in the end.”

  We both knew better than that. We were Glimmers. We made fairy tales happen. We didn’t live them.

  Chapter Five

  Numbers swam before my eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had glamoured my vision.

  “I need a break,” I said.

  The first twinge of a headache was starting between my eyes.

  “No way, Liv,” he said. “You can’t get a degree in a science if you can’t do math. You’re only on question nine.”

  He’d called me Liv. No one but Imogen and Daniel called me Liv. I loved the sound of it coming out of his mouth.

  “I hate question nine,” I said, but turned my attention back to it anyway.

  He sat there patiently while the numbers jumbled in my brain and my mom’s bird clock ticked softly in the background. The painted songbirds on its surface usually flew around the clock face. Today, though, they’d been still for the better part of two hours. Like most Glimmering homes, ours had a giant Humdrum safety spell cast over the property. As long as Lucas was here, the clock wouldn’t spring to life, the doorbell wouldn’t announce the names and intentions of any visitors, and my family would keep their drama to themselves.

  Except for the homework part, it was a slice of heaven.

  “I thought most science people were also math people,” he said.

  He stretched his leg out across the creamy living room carpet. There was furniture in here, but the floral couches were stuffy, the kind of furniture meant for looks rather than sitting. I leaned back against one couch and propped my notebook up against my knees.

  “That’s a stereotype,” I said. “Shut up, I’m trying to figure out…”

  I fell silent and concentrated. Eventually, I found my way to a number that seemed right. He leaned over to check it, and his breath tickled my ear.

  “Good job,” he said.

  A thrill ran down my spine. It felt delicious.

  Even better, though, was that I didn’t have to pretend it didn’t. I wasn’t going to be the rebound girl. But I was beyond ready to daydream.

  “So what have you been up to the last few years?” I said.

  “Math,” he said. He tapped his pencil on my notebook, but I put the book down.

  “Seriously,” I said. “I need a break. My brain is about to explode.”

  “Sounds messy,” he said.

  “The walls would get plastered in numbers,” I said. “My mom would never get them all off. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

  He laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed since he’d showed up. A little of the solemn, just-got-dumped expression left his face.

  I nudged his foot with mine.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “It’s been awesome to see you again, but I’ve still never really heard what you did in between then and now.”

  Lucas leaned his head back until it bumped against the stiff arm of the couch. A few strands of dark hair slipped away from his forehead.

  “Just this and that,” he said. “We moved to Arizona, and then we moved to Colorado for a while, and then we went back to Arizona for Mom’s job.”

  “She’s a nurse, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Pediatric nurse. Works with kids.”

  “What’s Arizona like?” I said.

  “Hot,” he said. “Except everywhere’s air conditioned, so really cold at the same time.”

  I’d never been to Arizona. Anywhere that dry made me nervous. I’d only been to a desert once, during a trip to visit one of Mom’s friends in Nevada when I was a kid. I wasn’t much of a faerie even then, but the lack of growing green things had still made me nauseated and weak.

  “What did you do in Arizona and Colorado?” I said.

  He shrugged.

  “Not an answer,” I said.

  “I don’t know, normal stuff,” he said. “Went to school, hung out with my friends. I got to see my dad a lot last summer, which was great.”

  He glanced at me like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to talk about his dad. I widened my eyes and lifted my eyebrows, trying to make my face as encouraging as possible.

  I’d met Lucas in middle school, and his parents had been divorced for years by then. I’d never heard him talk about his dad.

  “He’s a long-haul trucker,” he explained. “We text a lot but I don’t get to see him very much. He let me ride with him on some short trips.”

  “That sounds really fun,” I said.

  “It was cool,” he said. “Did you know semi-truck cabs have beds in the back?”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding,” he said. “We rented a car in between two of his jobs and went camping in southern Utah. The landscape there is unreal.”

  He pulled his phone out.

  “This isn’t going to do it justice at all, but I have some pictures on here. I have better ones on my computer at home. Here.”

  If these were his just so-so pictures, I couldn’t imagine what the real ones looked like. Enormous red cliffs rose up toward a cloudless blue sky. In one picture, a river snaked along the bottom of a canyon whose red walls glowed like fire in the evening light. In another, a crescent moon shone from the middle of a red stone arch.

  “These are gorgeous,” I said.

  I slid my finger across the screen and was startled to see a selfie of Lucas grinning next to a bearded man I assumed was his dad. They had the same sparkling eyes.

  Lucas shifted next to me. I reached the last picture in the album, but kept scrolling so that the first one came up again.

  “Seriously, I can’t believe you took these on a phone,” I said.

  “I have a lens attachment,” he said. “Makes a phone camera a little better than a phone camera.”

  His energy felt almost embarrassed. I turned to look at him.

  “You’re a photographer,” I said.

  “Kind of,” he said.

  “No, not kind of,” I said. “Like, you’re seriously a photographer.”

  The world’s most horrible thought crossed my mind.

  “You don’t happen to take a lot of pictures of the Willamette River, do you?” I said.

  “No,” he said, confused.

  Of course he wasn’t Evan Costner. Of course my new client wasn’t in love with him. And of course I was already getting jealous of any beautiful girl who might be even vaguely connected with him.

  I forced my breathing to slow.

  “Just curious,” I said. “I’ve heard it’s a good place for pictures.”

  “Maybe I’ll have to check it out,” he said.

  “Maybe I’ll have to come with you,” I said. The words left my mouth before I could think. But he smiled, and I didn’t take them back.

  I didn’t want to hand the phone back, but I did.

  “Do you want to be a photographer?” I said. “Like, for a job?”<
br />
  “Maybe,” he said. “Actually—” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. I picked up my pencil and fiddled with it, forcing myself to wait. “Actually, I’m thinking about doing something with film,” he finished.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, I think it would be cool to major in film in college. Pointless, right?”

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “That’s awesome. I didn’t know you were into that.”

  “Aubrey thought it was stupid,” he said.

  He immediately looked away. I felt a small push of awkwardness come off him. I couldn’t tell if he wished he hadn’t mentioned her, or if he just wished he hadn’t mentioned her in front of me.

  Well, at least we could get clear on where I stood.

  “Aubrey’s an idiot,” I said flatly.

  A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.

  “I figure, I like photography,” he said. “And I like stories. Not just stories, but, like, the structure of stories. You know what I mean?”

  I’d never wanted to tell Lucas about my gifts or my world, even if it had been legal. For a split second, though, I wished I could tell him about Archetypes. He’d get a kick out of it. I bit back a laugh and nodded.

  “I think it would be awesome to explore how to tell stories in such a complicated medium,” he said. “With film, it’s not like you’re doing one thing. You get to work with visuals and images, but then you’re also working with dialogue, and sound. You’re even working with time. How many art forms let you work with time?”

  “Music,” I said.

  “Yeah, music,” he said. “But music’s in films. Movies are like a buffet where you get to sample everything.” His eyes lit up, sparkling like they had in the picture with his dad. “It’s so powerful. With a good movie, you directly affect people’s emotions. It’s almost magic, if you think about it. You can actually put thoughts and emotions into someone else. It’s freaking amazing.”

  Rebounds be damned.

  “We should go to a movie together,” I said. “You can show me exactly what you’re talking about.”

  The tiny crease at the corner of his eye spread. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. He picked up my notebook and handed it to me. “You finish this assignment and I’ll take you to whatever you want to see.”

  “Get me popcorn?” I said.

  “Let’s find out,” he said, and nudged my knee with his.

  I practically buried my face in the paper, desperate to hide my smile.

  Chapter Six

  I eyed the tall stone building next to me. It was old and imposing, with carved cornices and arched windows fitted with glittering glass panes. I looked down at the thick creamy paper in my hand again. The golden star on the invitation flashed and twirled; this was the right place.

  It sure didn’t look like a “Garden of Glims” to me.

  I walked up a flight of stone steps to the enormous wooden door, which was at least twice my height. When I pushed it open, cool air from a shadowed lobby surged out to greet me.

  “Welcome,” a voice said.

  When my eyes adjusted, I made out a slender faerie in a tuxedo. Past the edges of my glasses, the swirling nebula of his magic glimmered in shades of green. His dark hair was neatly slicked back from his face.

  I, like an idiot, had come wearing jeans.

  “Hi,” I said. I took a couple of steps forward. “I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.”

  I held out the invitation. He took it from me and waved one of his manicured hands over it. A silver sheen glinted across the paper and was gone.

  He bowed. “Welcome, Miss Feye. Right this way. Her Majesty is expecting you.”

  My stomach flipped over.

  This was not what I’d expected to do today. Lucas had barely left yesterday before one of Queen Amani’s flying paper airplanes had flown into my bedroom window and hit me in the head. The note on it had been simple: Queen Amani wanted to “catch up and discuss my future.”

  I had a feeling I knew what she wanted to talk about, and I knew I didn’t want to talk back. But she was the queen, and I was at least going to do her the courtesy of having this conversation in person.

  The doors behind the faerie looked like they should lead into a ballroom or chapel. They were tall, heavy, and carved with vines.

  “If you’ll follow me,” he said, and put a hand on the door.

  The vines shifted like snakes.

  And then I was blinded by light and greenery. I didn’t bother trying to hide my gaping as the faerie led me into one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.

  The entire center of the building was flat-out missing. Judging by the size of this place, so was the center of the building next door.

  I’d expected to walk into a hallway or a room. Instead, we stepped under a grape arbor and into an enormous brick-walled garden. Sunlight filtered through leaves and turned the air a dappled green.

  I followed the faerie down mossy steps to a path of paving stones. They wound through the enclosed garden and disappeared behind a tightly growing cluster of cherry trees in full, out-of-season bloom.

  “Whoa,” I said, like a genius.

  “Is this your first time visiting the Garden?” the man asked.

  “I didn’t even know this was here.”

  “It’s quite exclusive,” he said. “We often reserve it for Her Majesty’s private use.”

  I touched the soft yellow petals of a flower I didn’t recognize. The petals dissolved into a cloud of fingernail-sized butterflies at my touch. They rose into the air and fluttered around my head with a sound like distant, tinkling bells. I cringed and clasped my hands behind my back, but the faerie just smiled.

  “Mustard Moths,” he said. “Neither mustard nor moth, just an enchantment bred into the genome.”

  I looked at one of the butterflies, which had landed on a red rose the size of a dinner plate.

  “You can do that?”

  “Of course,” he said. “The natural world is the source of faerie magic. It makes sense that our magic can manipulate it, don’t you think?”

  I frowned and looked around, wondering how many unfamiliar plants were in this place.

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  He led me around a small koi pond, where dozens of glittering orange and yellow fish glided under their ceiling of water lilies. I almost crashed into him before realizing he’d stopped.

  He bowed deeply, and I looked up to see Queen Amani sitting at a wrought-iron table in a little cobblestone-covered clearing.

  She was in jeans, too.

  I was trying to decide if I should bow when the faerie straightened and waved me toward her with one sweeping, formal gesture.

  “Olivia!” Queen Amani said brightly. “I’m so glad you could make it. Thanks, Peter.”

  The faerie—Peter—bowed again.

  He walked away along the winding garden path, and I was left to advance awkwardly toward the table, where Queen Amani’s crazy whirling vortex of magic spun around her in a burst of shimmers and gold just beyond the edges of my glasses.

  “Have a seat,” Amani said.

  She nodded toward the chair across from her, and it slid itself neatly out for me. She glanced up to where Peter was just disappearing behind the cherry trees, and then propped her feet on one of the chairs to her side.

  “Tea?” she said.

  My mouth was dry. “Yes, please,” I said.

  She leaned back in her seat, tipping the chair onto two legs, and plucked a couple of purple blossoms from the star-shaped flowers growing behind her. She dropped the petals on the table and waved her hand over them.

  The silky petals grew and wrapped around each other, growing up into the shape of a purple kettle and two cups on saucers. Golden streaks that used to be the flowers’ stamens swirled across the dishes like smeared lines of paint. Despite my nerves, I leaned forward, transfixed.

  Queen Amani lifted the kettle lid and snapped her
fingers, and a miniature gray cloud, no bigger than my fist, formed above our table. A tiny torrent of sweet-scented rain poured from the cloud into the kettle, accompanied by flashes of lightning and thunder so soft they may as well have been our chair legs scraping on the cobblestones.

  When the kettle was full, Amani snapped again. The cloud dissolved and the water churned to a furious boil. Seconds later, she was pouring steaming floral tea into my cup.

  “That was awesome,” I said.

  “Right?” she said. “I had to practice forever but it’s a hit at parties.”

  I sipped at the tea. It was exactly hot enough, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going to cool anytime soon. A bright red bird fluttered out of one tree behind the queen and into the branches of another.

  “I had no idea this was here,” I said.

  Amani looked around and sighed, a happy sigh I recognized as the one I gave whenever I was alone in our community garden. The sunlight kissed her dark skin with gold.

  “Four-hour meetings discussing trade restrictions on elven jewelry can be a little tedious, but you hold them here and suddenly, bam, you don’t mind at all,” she said. “It’s honestly one of the best perks of being queen.”

  She lowered her teacup. “Speaking of which.”

  The sweet, rosy tea settled in my stomach like lead. I set my cup down and waited. This was the reason I was here, and the reason I hadn’t entirely wanted to come.

  “Have you reconsidered?” she asked.

  The right words wouldn’t come to my mouth—the eloquent, gracious ones about being so honored she’d considered me to make this valuable contribution to the Glimmering world, but, regretfully, I had to decline.

  “No,” I said instead. That didn’t feel like enough, so I added, “Sorry. I’m happy to keep helping you in other ways, though.”

  Her frown was barely perceptible. But she swallowed it back and replaced it with a smile.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t really expect you to have changed your mind.”

  “Sorry,” I said again.

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “I apologize. I just…”

  She blew out a heavy sigh and leaned forward.