by Emma Savant
After my underwhelming meeting with Evan, it was a relief to be here and engaged in the relatively simple task of picking out divination supplies. Worst-case scenario with shopping was that Mom would have to return something when she got home next week. Compared with the other worst-case scenarios of an angry Sea King, an Eris so powerful he or she scared Queen Amani, and an Imogen who wasn’t my friend anymore, the pressure of choosing the right runes felt like a trip to the Bahamas.
Mom had been wearing a lot of purple lately. I dropped the box of amethyst stones into my basket, and turned to the next item on the list: Balsam fir essential oil.
Amber bottles not much bigger than my thumb sat on a multi-tiered shelf on the other side of the cluttered shop. The woman behind the counter glanced up at me, then returned to browsing her magazine. I skimmed the labels. Allspice, Angelica Root, Anise Seed, and there it was, Balsam Fir. I dropped the glass bottle carefully into my basket before I looked over Mom’s list for any oils I hadn’t noticed earlier.
“You should try the jasmine,” a voice said behind me. “The smell is heaven. Good for love spells, too, though I don’t necessarily recommend that.”
A glance over my shoulder confirmed that the voice did, in fact, belong to Queen Amani. She was keeping her energy locked down; I hadn’t even felt her walk up.
“Hi,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you,” she said. “Shopping. Wendy’s good about leaving me alone.”
It took me a second to realize Wendy must be the faerie behind the counter. Amani reached over my shoulder and selected a bottle of juniper oil.
“How have you been?”
I stared at her. Last time we’d spoken, she’d hardly been asking about my day.
“I’ve been fine,” I said.
Her gold-threaded curls were as wild as ever, but her face had smoothed out.
“You seem… calmer,” I said.
One of her fingers twitched. Beyond my glasses, the white bubble of a sound-blocking spell shimmered around us so thickly I could barely see the room around us. I knew how to throw up sound bubbles, but this was something else. With the tiniest movement, she’d managed to conjure something so strong I couldn’t have matched it even with hours of preparation and focus.
And she’d thought I could be the next Faerie Queen.
“I am. I apologize,” she said. “I wasn’t in the best state of mind when I mirrored you. I should have waited until I was able to compose myself.”
“It’s fine that you called then,” I said. “I was just a little worried. I’ve probably been assuming things are worse than they are.”
“Oh, they’re worse,” she said.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. One of her gold bracelets glistened in the yellow light of the shop.
“Things are worse than even I imagined,” she said. “But I feel more prepared to deal with them than I did.”
I glanced at her basket. In addition to the juniper oil, she carried four small packages of herbs, a box of white candles, a single braid of mermaid hair, a grapefruit-sized crystal ball with intricate symbols etched in a circle around its top, and a crystal bottle of sprite tears.
It had never occurred to me that Queen Amani might do her own shopping, let alone for basic magic supplies.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better about it,” I said. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more to help.”
“You still might,” she said. “I haven’t been asking you to keep an eye out for nothing, you know.”
“Telling you things isn’t the same as helping,” I said. I might get lucky enough to overhear a clue as to who Eris was. But I didn’t expect to stumble on the truth.
I looked over my glasses at the silence bubble. It shimmered strong and white.
“Even if you figure out who the person is, what are you going to do about it?” I said. “If they’re managing to hide from even you and the Oracle, they’re probably pretty powerful.”
“They’re definitely powerful,” Amani said. “I’ve decided to cross that bridge when I come to it.”
She smiled at me, and she really did seem fine. The knot that had lived in my stomach since we last spoke loosened a little. “That sounds smart,” I said.
“So what are you doing here?” Amani said, nodding toward my basket. “You didn’t strike me as the rune-reading type.”
“They’re for my mom,” I said. “She’s been working on her divination lately and needed some supplies for spells. She’s in Argentina and wanted me to pick all this stuff up before her plane gets in. I just got off work and, you know, beats going home.”
I pressed my lips together. Stop babbling, I silently ordered.
Amani opened her mouth as if she were going to ask a question, then closed it again and reached for a polished black river stone from a box on one of the shelves next to us.
“So you’re not into divination?”
“I’m not into magic,” I said.
Amani already knew that. She turned the smooth stone over in her hand.
“Would you mind trying something for me?”
I tried to scan her energy, but she was locked down tight and I couldn’t pick anything up.
“Sure,” I said. It came out as a question.
She handed me the stone. “Look at that and tell me what you see.”
The surface was black, smooth, and unremarkable.
“A stone,” I said. But that was a stupid answer. “It’s smooth,” I said. “And it’s not quite a perfect oval. It’s pretty thin. Would probably be a good skipping rock.”
“Soften your eyes and look again,” she said. “But this time, try to see inside the stone.”
I looked up sharply.
“I told you, I’m not into divination.”
“I know,” she said. “It probably won’t come to anything. Humor me.”
I tried to soften my gaze the way I’d always heard you should. The stone seemed to blur a little bit, and I tried to look deep inside it. Beyond it, the cloudy white of the soundproof bubble floated like a blank screen.
Amani stayed silent, waiting. After a moment, I started to see the way the light played on the stone’s edges, and noticed how many tiny pores covered its otherwise smooth surface. And then, very faintly, I saw something move.
It was impossible to tell if it was just my eyes playing tricks, protesting staring so hard. A tiny flutter appeared, flickers of yellow lamplight in a vague pattern.
“I think it’s a flower,” I said. “A rose, maybe?”
Talking broke my focus. The hazy impression disappeared immediately, leaving only a rock in my hand.
Amani sighed. I handed the stone back to her. It was a relief to feel its weight leave my palm. I watched as she set it back on the shelf.
I was the worst faerie in the world.
I wished the shop would just swallow me up right there and let me disappear into its cluttered aisles.
My phone beeped from inside my pocket.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Oh, no worries,” Amani said. She waved an airy hand, as if it were possible to just brush off my mediocrity. “This isn’t the easiest environment to concentrate in.”
“Also I suck at divination,” I said.
“Everyone sucks at divination,” she said. “People who are good at it just suck marginally less.”
Her graciousness was another quality of a good Faerie Queen I did not have. The only comforting thought was that Imogen didn’t share that particular quality, either. I bit back the sudden urge to ask Amani if she’d given any thought to my stupid idea of considering my former best friend as her heir.
Amani took a deep breath, like she wanted to sigh but was being too tactful. Suddenly, all I wanted was to finish Mom’s shopping so I could go home and be alone in my room with my plants.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I looked up. She frowned at me with her eyebrows drawn together.
“Y
ou must be so sick of running into me all the time,” she said. “If I were better at this I’d leave you alone.”
“Better at what?”
She shrugged, holding up both her hands like she was lifting invisible weights.
“Life,” she said. “I keep seeing you in my divinations and I know there has to be a reason for it.”
“Maybe you just suck at divination,” I said.
It was supposed to be a joke, but the second the words were out of my mouth I wanted to die. I waited for the ground to swallow me up, or for the Faerie’s Queen’s rage to knock me down with a bolt of lightning.
Instead, Amani cracked up.
“There is so much more truth to that than I want to admit to,” she said.
My phone beeped again.
“You can get that if you need to,” Amani said. “I should probably get on with my shopping anyway.”
“That’s okay,” I said, but then I reached into my pocket anyway, just to make sure it wasn’t Mom.
Amani gave me a tiny wave and walked down the row to examine a drawer filled with tiny pink and purple crystals. The white bubble around us thinned and dissolved, like clouds blowing away in a breeze. The colors of the shop seemed too rich without it.
Imogen: Hey. I need to talk to you.
Imogen: Stop ignoring me. You’re being kind of an ass. This is important.
I glared at the phone so hard the screen shut off without my having to press the button.
Amani made a sudden, jerky movement in the corner of my eye. “Whoa,” she said.
I looked up and saw her staring at me with furrowed eyebrows.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
“You sure?” she said.
I gritted my teeth. “Yes,” I said. “It’s just an… acquaintance. The girl I told you about when we were in the Garden, actually.”
I stepped toward her and lowered my voice. Even though the shopkeeper was Amani’s friend, I didn’t want our connection getting around.
“I told you I thought she might be a good candidate for your heir,” I said, keeping my voice on a tight leash. “I was mistaken.”
“That’s too bad,” Amani said. The phrase was a question, one I was more than willing to answer.
“She’s not reliable,” I said. “Turns out she’s massively dishonest, actually. Not a great choice for a queen.”
“Sounds like not,” Amani said. “Tact is sometimes required but dishonesty isn’t ideal. Wasn’t she one of your best friends?”
“Best friend,” I said. “Because I have horrible taste in people.”
“Yeah, me too, sometimes,” Amani said.
That, I seriously doubted. But the attempt at empathy was kind of her. It felt nice to have someone try to be kind.
“So, just so you know,” I said.
“Thanks.”
She turned back to browsing. Her eyes were suddenly far away, so far I didn’t think I’d reach her if I spoke again.
Chapter Sixteen
“Your world is so loud!” Lily said.
She stumbled to the window and slid the old frame shut, blocking out the noise of traffic roaring behind her. She wobbled on her legs, tottering every few steps like she would go down any moment, and held onto the wall as she inched back to sit on her bed beside me.
A blue-haired muse ducked her head into the room, looked around, checked something on her clipboard, and disappeared back out through the open doorway.
We were at the Mother Gemma J. Goose Halfway House for Transitioning Archetypes. The old building buzzed with magic; at the edge of my glasses, I could see sparks, pink clouds, and swirling glitter tornados revolving through the place. Pulsing music streamed in from another room, its steady beat and Arabian melody making me think a crazy genie party was about to start. Every few seconds, loud conversation or laughter floated through the door and the walls.
“This building isn’t representative,” I said.
“That’s a good point,” Lily said. “I have to remember, nothing is representative. I didn’t realize how far technology had progressed here! It’s one thing to watch the cars on the highway but it’s quite another to see them right outside your window. Our machines don’t change so often below.”
“I don’t imagine there’s a lot of Humdrum influence,” I said.
“Hardly any,” she said. “And I hadn’t realized how many Humdrums there are here! I have no idea how you all camouflage yourselves.”
“You’d better learn quick,” I said.
But I wasn’t worried. The Halfway House was designed for oddballs like Lily, Heroes and Heroines and Sidekicks stuck between worlds. The community bulletin board outside advertised classes with titles like Hop to It!: Integrating Your Inner Amphibian After an Extended Transformation and Tree Huggers: Connecting with Nature in the Concrete Jungle (fall session for faeries, dryads, and naiads only).
Lorinda had slipped me a flyer about this place a few days before Lily had sprinkled her potion and come to land. She didn’t say a thing, but it seemed like the Oracle had talked to her—and it was a good thing, too, because I’d been driving myself crazy trying to figure out how I’d be able to book Lily a hotel room without getting in major trouble with the Wishes Fulfilled budget office.
Goose House was better than a hotel. Lily could be herself here until she learned to pass for human.
“I stopped by Evan’s work a couple days ago,” I said.
Lily’s eyes brightened.
“Where is it? I know how to find him from the river. But I don’t know how to get to Oregon City from here.”
“Good,” I muttered.
“What did he say?”
She swept her hair up into a ponytail with her hand, then let it fall loose again around her shoulders.
The transformation had taken everything mermaid about her and turned it human. The strands of seaweed woven through her auburn hair had melted into vivid green-dyed streaks that shifted through the red. The seashells and sea glass were still there, woven into the tiny braids and dreadlocks that fell at random past her shoulders. Her style was unusual enough to turn heads anywhere but Portland, and she had retained every bit of her fierce mermaid beauty.
Evan would be an idiot if he didn’t at least look twice when he saw her next.
“He seems… nice,” I said.
I fished the business card out of my purse and handed it to her. She stared at it for a moment like she was trying to absorb the paper through her eyeballs, then clutched it to her chest.
Giving her the summary of our conversation took all of thirty seconds. It wasn’t much, but she gazed at me in rapt attention as though memorizing every word that fell from my lips.
“I love him,” she said fervently.
It wasn’t the first I’d heard of this, but I still couldn’t imagine not being confused by it.
“How do you know that?” I said. “Like, really? I get that the Oracle agrees with you and everything, but how do you know? You’ve talked to him, what, twice?”
“Three times,” she said. “I don’t need more.”
Did I love Lucas? If I couldn’t tell, did that mean it wasn’t love?
Not that it mattered.
“You have to need more than that,” I said. “You can’t build a whole relationship on three meetings and you definitely can’t give up your entire life for it. Aren’t you supposed to be really into art or something?”
I waved my hand at her legs, which sat neatly folded together under a short ruffled skirt.
“Yes, I can,” she said. “And Evan inspires my art.”
The sincerity in her voice threw me off. She leaned forward, her fists pressing into the pink coverlet on either side of her and her legs swinging against the mattress’ edge. Her toes stuttered against the floor when her teal ballet flats hit the wooden floorboards.
“Just because I’m crazy for doing this doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”<
br />
She did realize she was crazy, then.
I put my elbow up on the back of my chair and leaned my head against my hand, watching her.
“What’s your logic?” I said. A second later, it occurred to me that logic was probably not the thing Lily used to guide her decisions.
“I know everyone thinks I’m out of my mind,” Lily said. “Everyone always thinks the Little Mermaid Archetypes are out of our minds. Why give up everything for some guy I don’t know, right?”
I shrugged. “You said it first,” I said.
“I know things might not work out with Evan,” she said.
I sat up straight.
“Then why are you here? This is kind of a big deal. I don’t know if your dad is even going to let you back into the ocean again if things don’t work out.”
I’d received a strongly worded message from him the day Lily had transformed. A dove had dropped a fist-sized seashell onto my desk and King Pacifica’s voice had bellowed out of it, blustering about bad decisions and professional responsibility and his lawyers. Lorinda had taken the shell from me with tight lips and said she’d “deal with it.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was sure we were on his bad side.
“So what?” she said. “Even if everything goes wrong, at least I tried.” She looked out the window for a moment, then back at me, her delicate face fierce with passion. “I don’t want to live with regrets. We only get one life and I want to live mine. You always regret the things you don’t do more than the things you do do. Always.”
It was human and faerie nature both to make everything in the world about me. My thoughts turned inward almost immediately.
What did I regret?
I regretted not going after Lucas when I had the chance. I regretted not spending more time with him, and with other friends who weren’t Imogen.
At the same time, I regretted getting so angry with Imogen that I felt like I couldn’t reach out to her even if I wanted to.
I regretted not standing up to my dad and telling him my college plans before my mom got to it, especially since she’d been off in Argentina and I’d been stuck at home navigating his icy silent treatment.
And if I was honest and let myself tell the truth for one brief moment, I almost—almost—regretted telling the Faerie Queen I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps.
