Distorted Fates

by R. L. Weeks

  Bertie didn’t move, acutely aware of his bow. “I’m just… here. Not doing anything.”

  “Those apples belong to her majesty,” the man explained, giving her a soft half-smile and pointing toward her bulging kerchief.

  “What apples?” Bertie hoped against hope the darkness would help her.

  “I’ve been following you since you docked.” He extended his hand, never taking his eyes off her. “My name is Jax.” When Bertie still didn’t move, he motioned toward the crow. “This is Gus. And you are?”

  She looked him up and down. The witch in Vernal Vale had looked perfectly harmless too. Bertie shook her head.

  He nodded. “Okay. Well, I technically need to bring you in for this. Come on.” Bertie stepped back, and he raised his bow. “Please. I don’t want to have to use this.”

  She and Winder glared at him but did as they were told. Walking through the castle’s front entrance, the ground floor was almost entirely one open space. A pot of soup bubbled over a fire in the center, while mastiffs big enough to swallow Winder in one gulp stood guard. Two thrones with arcs of gold lilies over the tops faced the entrance. Upon them sat who Bertie could only assume were the ruling monarchs: two queens.

  “Oh, Jaxie! What have you brought me?” trilled one, clapping her hands. She looked much like him, though her eyes were several shades darker. “Is it something delicious?”

  The other queen looked fondly at her partner. “Does it look delicious, treasure?”

  “You never know. Maybe she’s the greatest pastry chef to ever live.”

  Jax bowed. “Your majesties. I found—”

  “Ugh, brother,” the first queen said. “We’ve been over this. The whole ‘your majesty’ thing is too much. Sophie and Ella, puh-lease!” She pointed at herself first and then the other queen.

  He kept his eyes trained on their faces the way he had hers. The queens too seemed to take special care to face him when they spoke.

  “Indeed.” A smirk played at the corners of Jax’s lips. “I just thought you might want to be addressed by your proper titles since…” he gave Bertie an apologetic glance, “… I caught this young lady stealing apples from your royal trees.”

  “Royal trees?” Ella asked. She looked at Sophie, who pressed a finger to her lips, thinking. “Are these the ones you decided were best for baking, so you requested someone who could make you three hundred apple pies?”

  “Oh yes! Jaxie, have you found anyone yet?” Before he could answer, she said, “Oh, well, never mind.”

  “I could make you some,” Bertie said. Every eye turned to her. “I mean, not three hundred, but I’d be happy to do what I can in exchange for some of your lovely apples. I just need a little food before I head into the Winterwood.”

  Ella’s eyes softened. “What’s your name?”

  “Bertie.” She did her best to curtsey while still hanging onto her kerchief full of apples.

  “Lovely to meet you, Bertie,” Ella said. “If you’d like to make us a pie, we won’t say no. The kitchen is just through there, and you’re welcome to join us for dinner.” She motioned toward the soup pot.

  “Thank you. My baking skills are only middling, but I’ll do my best.”

  Bertie hurried into the kitchen, eager to complete her task, with Winder right behind. She heard footsteps and turned to see Jax had followed. He circled around to the other side of the worktable. Gus still perched on his shoulder. Both looked relaxed, but Bertie pulled a rolling pin closer to her anyway.

  “So what brings you to our little corner of Autumn Hurst?” he asked. Bertie didn’t reply. “I apologize if I frightened you. Sophie believes the dogs provide us with more than enough protection…” one of the mastiffs craned its head around the doorway and lolled out its tongue in a drooling doggy smile, “… but I don’t know that I trust dogs with the safety of an entire queendom.”

  “Agreed,” Winder drawled, hopping onto the worktable.

  Bertie leveled a scowl at Jax. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Of course not,” he said, tipping his head. “Apologies anyway. In all honesty, I was more concerned for you than about you.”

  “And why would you be concerned for me?” When he didn’t answer, Bertie looked to see him glance at her hair. “You’re wondering why I look like I lost a fight with a push mower, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stared. It’s none of my business, though I also noticed how empty your boat is.”

  Bertie decided not to answer that either. Once she had assembled the pie and tucked it into the oven, she headed back out. She was surprised to see their majesties sitting on logs around the bubbling soup pot. After a second invitation, Bertie served herself a bowl and did the same.

  “So, Bertie,” Ella said. “You’re heading into the Winterwood?”

  “Yes, Queen Ella.”

  “Ella is fine, thank you.”

  A question hung unspoken in the air. Bertie felt it tug at her. Why would anyone want to travel to that horrible place, much less a lone girl and her clockwork cat? The weight of the queens’ ranks pressed on her. Though they said nothing, weren’t even looking at her, Bertie felt pressured to explain.

  “My best friend has Crystal Fever. I’m going to find him, cure him, and bring him home.”

  The queens looked at her, as did Jax after Gus whispered something into his ear.

  “We’ll do what we can to help,” Ella replied. “Jax?” Gus nudged Jax, and he looked to the queen. “Do you think your woodland allies would be willing to assist?”

  “I believe so, as would I.”

  Sophie looked grave but nodded.

  “I’m perfectly capable on my own,” Bertie said. “It’s my fault Liam fell prey to the sickness.”

  “No, it’s not,” Sophie insisted. “You didn’t infect him.”

  “And I have no intention of trying to usurp your place,” Jax said. “I’m neither the right person for the job nor am I trying to insult your abilities, but your chances are better with help.”

  The words softened Bertie, but she still fisted her hands determinedly. “I can’t ask you to risk yourself.”

  Jax shook his head. “You didn’t ask. I’m volunteering, and I’m afraid my reindeer friends will only listen to me.”

  Reindeer friends did sound helpful; they could easily escape with Jax and Winder in tow if things got dangerous. Bertie sighed and agreed.

  “But first, pie!” Sophie declared. “Priorities.”

  They all had a steaming slice of Bertie’s apple pie, which was far better than she’d given herself credit for, and discussed Jax’s and her journey ahead.

  Jax led Bertie into a leaf-carpeted glen as the moon threw down a wash of bright, creamy light.

  “This is the Sanctuary,” he explained. “All creatures are welcome as long as they don’t try to eat each other. If they’re injured, we do what we can until they’ve healed. Other times, they just like it here and stay. More than a few have come from the Pale Queen’s realm.”

  A herd of about a dozen reindeer was grazing, each painted silver by the moon. Jax scratched the largest one’s neck and introduced him as Taiga.

  “Gwynn will be joining us too,” he said.

  “Who is…” Bertie began.

  Out of the trees behind them lumbered a polar bear. Even on all fours, her head rose higher than Bertie’s. Winder cowered behind his mistress.

  Jax made the introductions as if they were all meeting for a game of whist, and Gwynn inclined her head.

  “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Bertie.”

  “A-and you,” Bertie said.

  Jax grinned at her. “Polar bears have excellent manners, you know.”

  The next morning saw them packed and ready to head into the Winterwood. Sophie and Ella hugged them, but Ella squeezed Bertie’s shoulders a moment longer.

  “We are honored to help you, but do not forget your own power.”

  Bertie was
about to ask what the queen meant when Sophie bounced back over. “You must tell us everything when you get back.”

  Having gathered tools and fitted Bertie with warmer clothes, they set off on a sleigh pulled by the reindeer. Gwynn ran next to them and kept an eye out for danger.

  “I think it’s only right that I warn you about something,” Jax said during their first day.

  Now you want to warn me? Bertie wanted to say, but Jax’s expression stopped her. He looked serious and even a little concerned, so she nodded and listened.

  “I don’t hear very well. That’s why Gus sticks around, to help me.”

  “And for the thrills,” Gus said from a pocket in Jax’s jacket. Bertie couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic.

  She smiled and simply asked, “How can I help?”

  The Pale Queen’s castle lay at the top of the world, where stars and wonders are born. By day, they followed Jax’s compass, but at night the northern lights—which swept curtains of emerald, amethyst, and ruby into the sky—guided them. They shared stories about their lives and Jax taught her hand signs in case they needed to communicate silently. When she had trouble, he positioned her fingers correctly and made her laugh with his colorful descriptions.

  “Hide.” Jax tucked his fist beneath his cupped hand. “Hedgehog under a duvet.”

  At last, the castle rose on the horizon, shooting spears of opalescent ice into the ink-black sky. The northern lights shimmered above, and weeping maples ringed the palace like sentinels. Jax and Bertie unhitched the reindeer and crept toward a particularly large tree. The snow piled as high as their knees, so Winder rode in Bertie’s pack. Jax pulled a drill and a spile from his to tap the tree. The moment he touched the bark, however, white mounds grew from the ground and shook themselves into solid shapes—giant snowflake guards with jagged icicle pikes.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Gwynn said, and she charged the guards with a roar that shook snow from the branches above.

  Winder leapt onto Taiga’s back and yowled like a demon as the reindeer rushed headlong into battle. The herd grunted furiously as they bowed their heads and charged, flinging the enemy over their antlers. Meanwhile, Gus left Jax’s shoulder and dive-bombed the guards. They exploded into puffs of powdery snow when felled.

  As their animal friends fought, Bertie helped Jax tap the tree and placed a small bottle beneath the spile.

  “It seems to be going quite well,” Jax grinned.

  He turned back, eyes bright with excitement, but his expression fell. Bertie swallowed hard and followed his gaze.

  The Pale Queen stood tall with a smile like jagged ice, her starlight eyes a frigid twinkle surrounded by endless black. Her frosty skin sparkled, and her dress wavered like reflections in a glacier. She held a vial of pale golden sap before her.

  “If you’re going to steal from me, you might as well do it properly.” Her purring voice was as sweet and smooth as syrup. She wiggled the vial, which flashed like a jewel.

  Trembling, Bertie stepped forward. She heard Jax whisper what she already knew.

  Trap.

  As soon as she was close enough, Bertie snatched the vial from the Pale Queen’s unresisting hand.

  “Congratulations,” she chuckled. “You’ve achieved precisely nothing. The sap is useless. You humans will believe anything when you’re desperate.”

  A layer of cold covered Bertie like rime. Behind her, a bowstring twanged. An arrow whizzed by, straight at the Pale Queen, and sailed right through her.

  She laughed again. “Did you think yourself protected, Jax?”

  “No,” he said. “That’s not why I came.”

  Bertie wished she sounded as strong as he did. “Where’s Liam?”

  “Not far,” the Pale Queen said. With a wave of her hand, Liam appeared next to her, snow swirling around him.

  Bertie choked back a cry. He looked at her with a hateful scowl torn across his face, his white eyes searing into her.

  When he spoke, his black tongue flicked around his mouth like a snake’s. “Why’d you even bother coming here? Do you enjoy failing?”

  Tears welled in Bertie’s eyes. She reached out to touch Liam, but his skin was so cold, hers stuck to it.

  “We’re going to fix you and bring you home,” she said with a wobbly voice.

  “You poor, stupid girl,” the Pale Queen tutted. “You still don’t understand, even after all this? There is no fixing him. There is no cure. You’re all infected. My beautiful crystals live inside all of you, just waiting for food to grow.”

  Bertie’s heart picked up a frantic beat. Already infected? So there’d never been any hope for any of them? She felt icy hands on her arms even through her heavy coat.

  “Don’t you touch her!” Jax snarled.

  The Pale Queen stood next to her. Her fingernails pierced Bertie’s flesh and pushed gelid water into her blood. Bertie trembled worse than before, her teeth chattering so hard they hurt. Jax swung his bow around. It passed harmlessly through the Pale Queen’s head.

  “You never could have saved him.” The Pale Queen’s voice was an arctic breeze whispering into Bertie’s ear. “You are not enough. Stay here with me. It’s the best thing you can do.”

  The Pale Queen’s voice sounded farther away though she hadn’t moved. Another image of the queen stood over Jax, hands gripping his shoulders. She wasn’t whispering, though. She had to speak loudly for him to hear her.

  “You are damaged. Broken. But I can make you into something useful.”

  Tears ran down Jax’s face, and he shook his head. “No. You’re wrong.”

  “She is wrong,” Bertie said. Heat grew in her heart and thawed her blood.

  Jax nodded fiercely. He pulled away, face contorting in pain, and reached out. Bertie took his hand, but he couldn’t pull her out of the Pale Queen’s grasp.

  “What did she say to you?” Jax asked.

  Even the memory of her cold, foul words brought more tears to Bertie’s eyes. She made herself say them anyway. “That I’m not enough.”

  Bertie wept harder, thinking of all the things she was only pretty good at. The fire in her heart dimmed.

  “That’s right,” the Pale Queen cooed. “There’s nothing special about you.”

  “Shows what you know.” Winder trudged through the snow. It rose above his head, so he had to jump in some places. His metal joints creaked with the cold, and the water soaking his coat had begun to freeze.

  “Oh, Winder.” Bertie reached down to pick him up. The Pale Queen held on, but Bertie pulled harder. Those frigid fingernails stabbed deeper into her arms. The harder Bertie pulled, the more it hurt. She screamed as she tore herself out of the icy grip. Falling to her knees, she wrapped Winder up in her jacket with her. He rubbed his cold, wet head against her chin.

  “You can barely even keep a clockwork cat going,” Liam jeered from behind her.

  The Pale Queen reached for Bertie again. She grinned like sunlight with teeth, but Bertie spun away. “No!” Jax took up position at her side again. She muttered to him, “I made an excellent pie, didn’t I?”

  “Definitely,” he said. “Now say it to her.”

  Bertie cried as loud as she could manage, “I made an excellent pie!”

  “It was delicious,” Jax added. “And I am not damaged.”

  “That’s right,” Bertie said.

  The Pale Queen sneered as they clasped hands and marched toward Liam.

  Bertie met his eyes. “What did she say to you, Liam?”

  His expression twisted as he spat, “You don’t care.”

  Bertie raised her hand, Jax’s on top, and placed it on Liam’s arm. His skin was so cold it burned now. “I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s as I said, Liam darling,” the Pale Queen said. “I’m the only one who cares about you.”

  “It’s like she doesn’t even know you,” Winder said with feline superior certainty.

  “She’s lying.” Ber
tie filled her voice with as much determination as possible.

  Liam looked away. “I’m just dumb muscle. I can be replaced.”

  “Quite easily,” the Pale Queen put in.

  “No!” Bertie spun to face her. “You’re wrong. You don’t know him.”

  “I know everyone!” the Pale Queen bellowed. “There is not one I haven’t touched.” She jabbed a long finger toward Liam. “He’s almost solid ice now. Soon he will add to my palace like so many before him.”

  Bertie could suddenly make out faces in the spires of the palace, the walls, even the doors. All of them looked miserable.

  “You told us to send away our sick, didn’t you?” Bertie didn’t wait for an answer. “Liam, come back with us. Please.” She hugged him and sobbed against his chest. “I came all this way for you because I love you. You’re my brother. I—”

  “I’m not your brother.”

  “Yes, you are. I love you, and so do many others. We can help, even if there’s no cure.”

  Bertie squeezed Liam and continued to cry against him. Other warm presences closed in around them. Winder climbed up and rubbed against Liam’s face. Taiga pulled a blanket from one of his saddlebags and, with Gus’ help, draped it over the young man’s shoulders.

  Gwynn bowed and introduced herself. “It’s an honor to meet the man Miss Bertie has traveled so far to save.”

  Bertie felt something wet against her skin; Liam was crying.

  He nodded and wiped his face. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt as their party headed back to the sleigh. The Pale Queen shrieked and hurled insults at their backs, but the group traded encouragements and refuted her claims.

  “Don’t listen to that,” Bertie said. “She’s a liar. You’re doing great.”

  They headed back to Autumn Hurst snug on the sleigh. Ella and Sophie threw a celebration when they returned, attended predominantly by the mastiffs and forest creatures from the Sanctuary. Bertie, who’d begun to wonder if she could improve on her last pie, made dessert. Liam was quiet, but Sophie eased him out of his shell with her infectious positivity, while Ella and Jax looked on proudly. Bertie, Winder, and Liam decided they’d send a letter home via pigeon to let Nadia know what they’d learned and that they were safe but planned to stay for a while to recuperate. That could wait until morning, though. Bertie danced with her friends through the night and spread encouragement and love like confetti, which made the world seem all the brighter.