“What, do you think it would be like human travel?” she asked when I mentioned the luxury of the ride.
“I don’t know how authentic you all are trying to be,” I defended myself. However, it raised the question … “Are there also automobiles and planes here?”
She shook her head. “That kind of stuff doesn’t work the same here. Most full-blooded fae can either fly themselves to wherever they need to go, or open portals. Changelings like myself and half-bloods like you, we have other ways.”
I frowned, two competing questions in my mind. I started with, “You’re a changeling?”
She nodded.
“But you said I’m a half-blood, how do you know, and how is that different?”
“You seem to have natural magic …” She halted her speech and narrowed her eyes at me. “Unless that hound’s bite was a bargain?”
I wasn’t following at all. “What kind of bargain? It attacked me!”
She smacked her lips and nodded. “Well, then, I can only reckon your magic is in-born. Mine wasn’t,” she grumbled.
“What do you mean?” This was new. I’d never read anything like this, and Puck certainly hadn’t mentioned it. I thought about what I’d seen since we’d met. “Do you have magic, or are you just able to use magical objects?”
She rummaged through the basket for several moments, and I had a feeling she was stalling. When I’d begun to think she wasn’t going to answer, she pulled out a small flask and added something to her tea.
“What’s that?” I asked quickly, suspicious.
“Zoberry liqueur. Something stronger for the road ahead. You want some?”
No way was I touching that.
A soft humming and batting at the window curtains caught our attention. Anweena pulled back the cloth and three dragonflies flew in through the opened glass, landing on her shoulder. To my surprise, she left them there and closed her eyes. They hopped from her shoulder to her ear several times and she hummed an odd tune. It was rather beautiful to watch, as if she and the dragonflies were in communion. I was curious but didn’t want to interrupt. After a minute, she pulled back the curtain and the insects flew out.
It took a second before I could speak. “Friends of yours?”
“Messengers.” She refused to say more.
After several minutes of cajoling, demanding, and pleading for information, which she refused to provide, I gave up and sulked, but concluded that was probably how she knew where Puck was taken. She proceeded to sleep—or pretend to sleep—and I stared blankly out the window, wondering what lie ahead. After a while, the anxiety got to me, and I woke her up to return to some of my original questions.
“Hey, you said some changelings are born with magic and others aren’t. Why is that?”
She wiped sleep from her eyes and glared at me. “You disturbed my nap for this?”
“I want to know.”
She blew a ‘phft’ sound with her lips. “What difference does it make?”
“Am I changeling or not? What’s the difference between them and half-bloods?
“Gods spare me from ignorant and inquisitive children.” The seat groaned as she hefted her bulk into a more comfortable position.
“You brought it up in the first place. And how could I not be either inquisitive or ignorant? I spent most of my life believing all of this”—I waved my hand around—“wasn’t real, and that I was hallucinating.”
Her chest heaved with a deep sigh. “I suppose. Look, child, half-bloods like yourself—and you must be at least half, since you created starlight—they are generally born with magic. There are rare occasions when one is born without it, but that almost never happens. Others, like myself, were born human and substituted for a fae child, but over time and with certain bargains”—she hesitated over the word—“we manage to produce a few types of magic of our own.”
“What types of magic, and what kinds of bargains?”
Her lips pinched, and she busied herself arranging the puffs of her sleeves. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, the magic is limited and depends on the bargain.”
I could see she wasn’t going to budge. “Okay. So, is your magic communing with dragonflies and making the world’s best pastries and teas?”
She beamed. “Something like that.”
Huh, seemed flattery might work. “What else?”
“Can’t be giving you all my secrets, can I?”
I supposed not. “That’s fair.” I wasn’t going to give her all mine, either. Not that I had many left to give. Upon reflection, my guess was her gift was communication, and possibly defensive magic seeing how she managed to deflect Kemire’s shots. I’d tuck that knowledge into my back pocket.
One thing that bothered me, though, was the thought that there was someone out there like her - someone who’d been brought in to replace me. I hoped that child’s life had turned out at least as well as Anweena’s.
I knew from experience how frightening it could be to be alone in a world where you were unwelcomed and misunderstood. Heart softening, I asked, “Were you a baby when you were brought here?”
She nodded shortly. “Long, long time ago. But don’t feel sorry for me. I see it in your eyes,” she said when I would have protested. “My life turned out a sight better than others, even among the fae.”
That was a relief to hear. “What usually happens to changelings?”
“Depends on whether they are full human, discarded half-bloods, or full-blooded fae.”
I was confused again. “How would a full-blood be a changeling?” But as soon as I said it, I guessed the answer. “Oh, wait, aren’t both children called ‘changelings’ then – the fae-born and whatever child replaces it?”
“That’s right. And since true fae children are so rare, they are treasured greatly. Most faeries treasure all children, actually, except those who have a taste for them.”
I shuddered, refusing to consider what that meant, and she nodded my way, pointing a gnarled finger. “Many awful things can happen here. Best you remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget.” My tone was drier than burnt toast. But … “If they treasure kids so much, why do they send theirs away?”
“Because, like I said, they are rare—born maybe every thousand years or so—and most die young, either from sickness or murder.”
“Good lord!”
“Indeed. Hence, they send their own little ones away to be raised elsewhere, where they might be safe until they come of age, then they often keep the substitutes and give them a comfortable life as servants, if not a good one.”
“Yet you said sometimes full-fae or half-blood fae end up as changelings here?”
Her expression clouded. “If one or both parents are being punished, yes. Consider yourself lucky, girl. If your mother’s mate had wanted to kill you, it would have been a blessing compared to what might have happened if he’d kept you alive.”
My lungs constricted in fear. “Umn, Anweena … you said you thought my mother might be in the Unseelie lands. Do you think her husband is Unseelie?”
“Yes. Just like her.”
“You think my mom is Unseelie? That I’m part Unseelie?”
She winced at my screech. “Keep it down, child.”
“I can’t be Unseelie,” I protested.
“Why not?”
“Be … because they’re evil. You said so yourself.”
“Eh. Most of them are, it’s true. But as with anything, there are variations. Even some Seelie I know aren’t so lily-pure as they pretend to be.”
The combination of that news and several pastries I’d devoured left my entire torso feeling so constricted I thought I might hyperventilate. Flashbacks to the Shivering Woods added to the anxiety. Was this why no one had ever loved me? Not only because they sensed I was different, but because they sensed I might be evil? All those times Puck and I had engaged in what I’d try to later pass off as childish mischief – was it just my bad blood coming through?
I sank back into the tufted gold velvet seating. It was all beginning to make terrible sense. “Do you know if Puck is Unseelie, too?”
She chewed at her lip. “Uncertain about that one.”
That made two of us. He definitely wasn’t good, but could I honestly say I thought he was evil? No. He was just … not good. I bounced my head against the high back of the seat. Why did life have to be so gray?
Narrowing my eyes at Anweena, I asked, “And what about you? If you acquired magic through some means, does that make you one of them also?”
Her gaze slitted back at me. “One of whom?”
“Any of them. The fae.”
She snorted, the air from her nose disturbing the pastry dust which had settled on the hairs above her upper lip. “I am what I am, and nothing more. Nor less.”
The last two words sounded like a threat, and I held my hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. “Just curious.”
“Keep your curiosity for your mother. And the scoundrel who brought you here.”
“Why do you keep calling Puck a scoundrel? I mean, I know he is, but how do you know? Have you met before?”
“How old are you, girl?”
What did that have to do with anything?
“Twenty-eight. And I’m not a girl.”
Her chortles reverberated in the enclosed space. “Once you get to be my age, you can recognize a scoundrel even before you’re introduced.”
I was dying to ask what age that was but decided tactful silence was in my best interest. I nodded and said truthfully, “That’s a good skill to have.”
“Indeed, it is.” She sank into the cushions and closed her eyes again. The sound of her snores soon accompanied the clomping of the horses’ hooves and the rattling of the wheels, while I returned to staring out the window.
The sky had deepened to a lavender blue by the time our driver—a small, green-skinned, male with a bulbous nose surrounded by short, gray tusks—called out, “Make way for Dame Anweena, who brings a changeling for Queen Grainne!”
Dame Anweena came to with a loud snort.
“You’re ‘Dame Anweena’? What does that mean? And what did he mean by a changeling for the queen?”
“It means keep your mouth shut and let me take the lead,” she grumbled, wiping drool from her chin as we rolled through the castle gates.
Chapter Twelve
W e’d passed through enormous, spiked, wrought iron gates, which I’d seen by craning my neck out the window before Anweena pulled me in. “Don’t be such a peasant,” she snarled. “You’ll make me look bad.”
I refrained from comment on that and instead asked, “How do the fae handle those gates if they can’t touch iron?”
“You didn’t notice the ones who opened it?”
I admitted I hadn’t.
“They use humans or changelings for that type of work. The fae guards are there to see that no one gets in or out who isn’t supposed to.”
“But I’m half-fae and allergic to iron.”
She hummed, considering. “You are a bit more than half, I’d wager.”
I flopped back in my seat. Nothing like that had occurred to me before. “You mean, my mother had an affair with a halfling, not a human?”
“Possible.”
Well, hush my mouth. Did Puck know about it? Probably. And of course, hadn’t bothered to mention it either, but why?
“Are you certain Puck is here?” I asked.
She nodded, a smirk pulling her lip. I could tell she knew what I was thinking, and it only ticked me off more. I was going to kill that lousy, lying, troublemaking fae if I ever got my hands on him.
By the time we’d passed through a large, obsidian hall and were ushered into the throne room to be presented to Queen Grainne, I wondered if my chance to throttle Puck might come sooner than expected.
Kemire, still looking surly, stood before a massive, gold-spiked throne, next to which stood a gangly young boy of around nine or ten. Seated upon the throne was a fragile-looking female who had to be the queen. Her long, pale blonde hair was done in a half-updo style. Tiny faeries with butterfly wings flitted about the curls atop her head, and some sat between the points of her crown, their little legs dangling.
The queen’s gown was sheer and pale green, and I could see the nearly skeletal body beneath it. Despite being so that thin a stiff breeze might scatter her like so much dandelion fluff, I sensed power and resolve burning from her eyes.
I swallowed the fear lumped in my throat. She was no one to trifle with, and it appeared Kemire had managed to annoy her. No surprise there.
The queen took her glower off him and turned toward us. “Dame Anweena. Always a pleasure.”
The soft voice sent a frisson of alarm down my spine. It landed in my gut and ice filled my bowels. I’d heard that voice before. Not in the lullaby Puck had played, but in the Shivering Woods.
“And who is this?” she whispered, causing my body to jerk.
I would have run but Anweena increased her grip on my arm. Before she could speak, Kemire shouted, “That girl was with Nonagon!”
“What? No!” I protested.
Anweena jerked me closer. “Don’t speak,” she hissed as the queen rose from her throne and approached Kemire.
The boy beside the queen smirked and quickly covered it with his hand. He winked when I stared at him.
“You didn’t mention this before, Kemire,” Grainne said softly.
I was pleased to notice his discomfort. Not sweating, exactly, but definitely worried. I could tell the exact moment he thought he had an alibi.
“Anweena vouched for her! She said the girl was working for Maeve.”
“Dame Anweena, is that true?” Grainne spoke politely, stressing “Dame” to Kemire before turning to my companion. That soft, whispery voice raised the fine hairs on my arms.
“I did take the girl with me, away from the scene of the arrest, Your Highness. I had done a truth spell with her earlier and did not find her untrustworthy, but thought you might find her interesting, hence I brought her to be presented.”
Though I was worried about the “might find me interesting” bit, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the way Anweena told the truth without actually answering the question.
The queen hummed, a little smile playing about her lips. “Well then, I will trust your judgement.” She turned to Kemire. “Perhaps we should bring up our prisoner to hear what he has to say about her.”
“I can—oww!” I stopped speaking when Anweena pinched my arm so hard she could have taken a piece with her.
When Queen Grainne slowly turned to check my audacity, my mouth went dry. “Umn, sorry,” I mumbled.
She raised one fine brow then clapped her hands. The guards in the room came to attention with a gust of fanfare and clattering of armor.
“Go fetch our ‘guest’ back to the throne room.” She glided slowly to the throne and wilted into the seat. “I must confess, I easily tire these days. Though it is good to have a bit of interest. Since the loss of the king, nothing exciting has happened within these walls.”
While we waited, I observed things from the corners of my eyes. The boy next to the throne had not been introduced, nor had he spoken. I wanted to ask Anweena who he was but didn’t dare open my mouth.
He had that gangly, prepubescent boy look with long legs and feet that were too big for his small, slim body. His face was narrow and sharp, and his large, dark eyes seemed far older than the rest of him. Maybe he wasn’t as young as he appeared at a first glance. I was quickly learning not to accept anything at face value within the fae realm.
The queen herself appeared a youthful, but tired thirty, though given what Anweena had told me earlier about the rulers of the provinces, she was likely thousands or tens of thousands of years old.
Wish I had some of whatever face cream she used.
Despite my best efforts at not staring directly, she turned her attention toward me, and I felt it blaze like an
inferno. I tried to lower my gaze, yet my eyes were moths and hers were flame. Flickers of expression crossed that beautiful face – surprise, speculation, excitement – but weariness seemed to underly them all.
A ruckus from the hall drew our attention toward the door where guards were dragging a heavily chained, and mightily ticked-off, Puck into the room. His cursing and kicking stopped when he saw Anweena and me.
Before anyone could say anything, the fae queen swooped from her throne, gliding through the air swiftly and elegantly to land before him. Her long fingers caught his chin and she single-handedly pulled him away from the guards and brought him to me.
It was all I could do to not hyperventilate in the face of that much power. I’d seen impressive displays since I’d been in this realm, but there was something so ice cold and controlled by the queen that I understood why she was the ruler. Even with her illness, and Puck’s bindings, I didn’t think he would stand a chance against her if she decided to end him.
In sharp contrast to her immense power, her voice was soft and sweet as a child’s when she asked, “Is this her?”
She still had his chin and cheeks in her grip, so he barely managed a ‘yes.’
Her entire demeanor changed. She gently patted his face and turned to me, her eyes wild with excitement, and she laughed giddily. Just as quickly, she whirled back to him. “You’re certain?”
“One hundred percent.”
A frightening suspicion started to take hold, but my attention was snagged by the boy who walked over to us in a twisting gait.
The queen grabbed him in a tight hug. “Twist, say hello to your sister!”
He recovered more quickly than I and hugged me about the waist while I stood like a statue – one that was ready to topple.
“Welcome, sister. I’ve waited a long time to greet you.”
I heard Anweena’s sharp intake of breath as I awkwardly patted him on the back and tried to pull free. Like all those darn fae, he was freakishly strong.
Grainne’s sharp gaze landed on Anweena’s face. “Were you aware, Anwee?”
‘Anwee’ shrugged ever so slightly. “I considered the possibility, Your Majesty.”
Leave it to Fate Page 8
