“Long enough,” she said. “I do understand.”
“Madeline, we didn’t all survive our time in the Sunlit Lands. They told us that making the deal was the only way home. One of the Elenil, he wanted me to stay. He wouldn’t release me. He said the only way was if I would let one of my children come back someday. I told him never, never. He finally agreed that if we had any children, he wouldn’t take them until they were sixteen. We could have their entire childhood, he said. I could be free if I agreed to that. I didn’t want to, but . . . your father and Tony and I, we talked about it, and we agreed we would each take the deal, and then none of us would have children, ever. I added to the deal. I told him I wanted to forget everything. The Sunlit Lands, the Elenil, everything. He fought against that part of the bargain, but in the end he agreed. Your dad did that too. Tony decided to remember, and—well, Tony did better than us, I guess.”
“You sold me . . . for your freedom.”
“I didn’t know you, honey. I didn’t plan to ever have kids. When we went home, I barely remembered your dad or Tony or any of them. But your dad and I fell in love. Neither of us wanted children—that had survived the loss of our memories—but when I found out I was pregnant with you . . . oh, sweetie, I realized there was nothing I wanted more.”
“You didn’t warn me,” Madeline said.
“I didn’t remember.”
“You always hated . . . my Meselia books.”
“Narnia, Middle-earth, Meselia, I hated them all. I didn’t know why, but I knew they were wrong, they were dangerous.” Her face hardened. “They want you to believe these other places are so wonderful, but they will kill you. Allison is dead. My boyfriend, Lee—what they did to him I can’t even say. The others, too. Only four of us escaped, only four.”
“Not counting . . . me,” Madeline said.
Her mother reached for her hand, and Madeline yanked it away. “Not counting you, Maddie.”
“Dad?”
“He doesn’t remember anything. He’s been working so hard since you got sick, I think because the magic has been failing for both of us. We’ve been starting to remember, but neither of us want to, but we knew you were in danger, so we were trying, and it just—we should have done better, Maddie, I know we should have, but we did our best.”
“I’m sick . . . because of . . . an Elenil . . . named Hanali. He recruited me. He . . . made me sick . . . so he could offer . . . me a deal.”
Her mother’s face twisted in rage and grief at the mention of his name. “Why won’t he leave us in peace? He came to us on your sixteenth birthday. We told them . . . told them they couldn’t have you. They could take us instead. We tried to back out of the deal. Hanali was with him. Then he said . . . that there would be a punishment for failing to follow the deal.” Madeline felt sick. She remembered her sixteenth birthday. Remembered taking a ragged breath before blowing out her candles and thinking, Well, that’s weird, I can’t seem to get a full breath. She thought she was excited because of the party and the romantic date she knew Darius had planned for that night. But it only got worse.
Her mother reached for Madeline’s hand, and Madeline pulled it away again. This time her mother moved closer, snatched Madeline’s hand, and wouldn’t let it go. “But our memories disappeared when they did. Your sickness started soon after. When Hanali came to you, did you take his deal? If he made you sick, he can make you well.”
“Yenil,” she said. “Was the plan . . . for my cure.”
Madeline’s mother went very still. A tear fell on her cheek, and she took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. As if she were about to do something painful, but there was no other choice. “You should take it,” she said, almost a whisper. A sob choked off her words, but she waited a moment and then forced herself to continue. “What sort of life can Yenil have? Her parents are dead, and she’s not doing well on Earth. She’ll never really fit in. And you have so much more to do in life, so much more to see.”
Madeline scowled at her, unbelieving. “But then . . . I would be . . . like you. Wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, Maddie, no, don’t say that.” Her mother was weeping now, the tears flowing copiously down her cheeks. Her usually perfect hair was wet and tousled, plastered to her face. “Maddie, please forgive me. I’m sorry, forgive me. I didn’t know! I didn’t know what I was doing!”
Something about seeing her mother broken and crying knocked loose a small compassion in Madeline. It reminded her of her own terror when she had discovered that Yenil was suffering so she could breathe. Madeline had already done the same thing as her mother. Not just once, but twice. Once with Yenil, not knowing the cost. Once with Night’s Breath, knowing exactly what she was doing. Not only that, but Yenil’s parents had died because of her, and who knew how many others in the Sunlit Lands? Her mother had a sort of amnesia that prevented her from seeing what she had done, that allowed her to keep living her perfect little life. It was a strange luxury. But it didn’t absolve her of her wrongs against Madeline, not at all. In fact, Madeline thought it might make it worse, because she had chosen not to see what she was doing to her own daughter, how she was making her life better by making someone else’s worse.
Madeline looked at Baileya. “Turn the . . . magic back on.”
“No!” Her mother screamed the word, clawing at her daughter. “No, Maddie, no, not before we’ve talked, not before you understand.”
“Mother,” she said, calmly. “I am going . . . to reset the magic . . . of the Sunlit Lands. I’m not coming . . . back.”
“I love you,” her mother said, clutching at her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me go. Let me reset the magic.” For a moment Madeline wished that could be. The idea of her mom protecting her at last, sacrificing herself so her daughter could live a few months more, filled her with longing. But it didn’t make sense. Madeline’s breathing wouldn’t get any better. She would still die. She couldn’t let her mother do that, no matter what she had done in the past.
“I know you . . . love me,” Madeline said. “I’m still . . . angry. But I . . . understand.”
“Madeline, please, let me come with you,” she said. “Let me make it up to you, please.”
Madeline grabbed her mom’s shoulders, held her tight, forced her to look into her eyes. “Then take care . . . of Shula . . . and Yenil.”
“I will,” she said. “I love them, too, Maddie. I do, I promise. I didn’t mean what I said before about Yenil. But these are terrible decisions, Maddie. How are we supposed to make these choices? Don’t leave me, not like this.”
“Mom. Tell me . . . how the Elenil . . . made you forget.”
“They gave us addleberry wine until we forgot it all. Then Hanali sealed it with magic.”
“Baileya,” Madeline said, and the Zhanin let the magic flow back in.
Her mother’s face smoothed out, and for a moment she was at peace. Then her eyes moved back and forth, confused, and a look of fear came over her again. “What is this place? Where am I? Maddie, what’s happening?”
Madeline kissed her mother on the forehead. She stood and asked Patra Koja if he would take her mother and Yenil somewhere safe. The rush of oxygen from the Queen’s Breath now that magic was restored made her light headed.
“David,” she said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” They walked away from the others.
She put her hand on his arm. “I want to ask you a favor. We’re going to find the Heartwood Crown, and I . . . I won’t be coming back. Shula won’t leave me, I know. I don’t think Baileya will either, not when Jason is out there somewhere. But would you . . . could you go with Yenil and my mother and make sure they’re safe?”
David crossed his arms. “Of course.” He gazed at her steadily.
Madeline couldn’t avoid the feeling that he had something more to say. “What?”
“Your mom. She doesn’t deserve the way you talk to her.”
“How can you say that? Do you even know
what she did? She sold me, David. I’m dying because of her.”
He shrugged. “You’re alive because of her too. Not saying she did right, just saying she did her best. I’ve seen a lot of trauma, Madeline, and this is someone who was forced to do what she did. She’s a victim too.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not dying,” Madeline snapped.
David didn’t look away. “Nah. She’s not. But you seem to think that dying has given you a pass to treat people poorly and do whatever you want. I hear the way Jason and Shula go on about you. How wonderful you are. How kind, how focused on others. I don’t know you very well, but I don’t see much of that. I see anger, and I see you expecting people to do whatever you decide is best.”
“I’m dying,” she repeated. “I’m sorry my emotional journey has been hard for you.”
“You’re not dead yet,” David said simply. “I believe Jason and Shula. I believe you’re a kind, exceptional person. Don’t let the process of death take that away from you. Don’t let it change your core self.”
Madeline wanted to snap at him again, but as she opened her mouth, she realized that David was right. As her pain increased, it had been harder and harder to be honest about that and still think of others . . . something she had always done as long as she could remember. It took more energy, more strength than she had. David was right. She had let herself become a distorted version of herself, and people who didn’t know her well might think she was someone completely different.
David put a hand on her shoulder. “I say these things because I am your friend. You are a good woman, Madeline. I’m only saying I hope you’ll remain one in the time you have left.”
Madeline let herself collapse against him, and he put his arms around her. She barely knew David, but he had proven himself to be her friend, and this conversation was another sign of it. “I don’t know how to forgive my mother,” she said.
“Sometimes we think we have to deal with our anger before we forgive someone. But I think that there are times when we have to forgive before we’re able to deal with our anger. It’s like breaking a dam . . . it lets the anger drain away.”
“I’ll think about that,” she said.
“And I’ll keep your mom and Yenil safe,” David said.
She looked up at him. “Thank you, David.”
He grinned. “Ah, there’s the sweet and kind Madeline Oliver I’ve heard so much about.”
She punched him in the arm. “I’m still angry,” she said.
“You should be,” he replied seriously. Then he trotted over to Yenil and bent down to talk to her.
Madeline went to Shula and Baileya next. “Will you . . . come with me?”
Baileya nodded once, simply. Shula hugged her and said, “Of course, Madeline. Wherever you go, I will go.” She crossed her arms and looked to the trussed-up Zhanin warrior, and Gilenyia, still asleep on the raft. “I will speak to Patra Koja and ask him to take care of the Zhanin and the Elenil until such a time as it is safe to release them.”
“Thank you,” Madeline said, and she was overwhelmed by these small kindnesses, by the clear love of these friends she had made in the Sunlit Lands.
Saying good-bye to Yenil was hard. Madeline didn’t know how to explain, but Yenil seemed to understand somehow. “I will take care of your mother,” Yenil said, as if this were the most important thing in the world. “I am glad you were my benefactor.” That’s what they had called it when Yenil had given her breath to Madeline. Madeline had been the benefactor of Yenil and her family—when she and Yenil had been connected by magic, Yenil’s family had received money and other benefits in exchange for Yenil’s breathing. Madeline hadn’t known about this deal, but it had been made nonetheless. She would have never met this Scim family if it hadn’t been for her connection to Yenil. Madeline hugged Yenil for a long time, until the girl started to squirm. She kissed Yenil’s cheek, and they said good-bye.
Delightful Glitter Lady came up then, squealing for attention and leaning against Madeline. She patted the little rhino on the head. “I’ll miss you, too, Dee.” Madeline grabbed Yenil’s hand. “Do you think you could look after Delightful Glitter Lady until Jason gets back? Just for a little while?” Yenil nodded seriously, then picked Dee up, holding her to her chest like a stuffed animal. The tiny rhino let out a contented sigh.
Then there was her mother. She was sitting on a rock, staring out into the swamp. Madeline came and put her arms around her. Her mother patted her arms. “I love you,” Madeline said.
“I love you, too,” her mother replied, and there was nothing more to say. Madeline kissed her mother on the cheek and moved toward Shula and Baileya.
Lin intercepted her and took her hand, then knelt before her. “You truly are the annaginuk. We have waited for you these many years. Bid me any service, my queen, and I will gladly do it.”
Queen? Once Madeline would have thought a title like that to be an honor, but now it only felt like a heavy burden. She put her hand on the Aluvorean woman’s shoulder. “Take care of my loved ones. Keep them safe.”
Lin looked toward Yenil, then back to Madeline. She stood and bowed, quickly, as if she could not trust herself to stay much longer in Madeline’s presence without bursting into tears. She swept away toward the others.
“Let’s go,” Madeline said to Shula and Baileya, and her two friends came on either side of her. She put her arms around their shoulders, and they helped her walk, headed north, toward the Queen’s Island.
She only looked back once. David was kneeling near her mother, talking to her. Yenil was showing Patra Koja and Lin a faerie house. It almost looked like something she might see at home, in her mother’s garden. They are safe, Madeline thought, and that is all that matters.
“Stand ready,” the Pastisian captain said. They were all inside the gondola. They were nearly over the city. “When I pull this lever, the floor will fall away, and we will descend together to war.”
Then the floor was gone. Darius fell straight down. He was in the center of the group, and the others peeled away with practiced simplicity, then spread their arms to release the gliding wings. Darius did the same, remembering his brief training, and they fell into formation as they moved toward the center of the city. He was surprised by how intuitive the gliding suit was, and he enjoyed the rush of the wind on his face. There was no sound other than the wind and the occasional flap of glider fabric. No one below had seen them yet.
The captain had perfectly planned their release—they were high above the city but just outside the walls. They were still out of arrow range as they crossed the wall. This small force had been tasked with taking one of the gates and holding it until the Scim arrived and the invasion began in earnest. They descended rapidly once they were over the wall, with the intention of doubling back and removing the most obvious of the nearby guards on their way to the gate. Darius nodded to the Pastisian soldiers as they descended. His goal lay elsewhere.
With a major portion of the Elenil army headed to Aluvorea and another sizable chunk distracted by the assault on the gate, Darius hoped to slip into the archon’s tower and find Thenody, guarded or not. There had been uncertainty about the precise place they would drop, and the original plan had been that he would hide among the humans in a nearby market—if he could land without being noticed—and then slip in when the Elenil were distracted by the attack at the gate. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it had been made quickly, and as King Ian said, “Our plan is to rely on your courage and see what comes of it.”
Darius considered what he had learned from the small book about Hanali’s father and wondered if he could use it to his advantage. Or rather, how best to use it to his advantage. He was still astonished by what he had learned, and he couldn’t help but think of Madeline and what it meant for her. His heart sank at the thought. He had to finish the archon quickly so he could go to her. A group of Scim street kids saw him fly overhead, shouted something, and ran another direction. Not to warn the authorities, he
was sure. Maybe they were part of Mud’s hidden army, and they had gone to get their commander.
He was high enough, he realized, to land inside the tower. He looked at the distance, calculating. Yes. He thought he could do it, if he planned it just right. Not toward the top, which was unfortunate, since the archon was most often in the highest sections. Still, to fight his way from the inside instead of from the outside would be an advantage. He banked toward the tower. He was low enough now that he was drawing attention. There was a long balcony about a third of the way up the tower he thought he could hit.
Elenil guards in the tower saw him now, and one loosed an arrow that whizzed to his left. He was no longer out of range, just distant enough that it was an unlikely shot. A gust of wind caught him sideways, and he drifted from his target. He tugged to one side and started losing altitude . . . too fast. He crashed into the side of the balcony, just high enough to flip over and land, crooked, on his feet.
His ankle twisted under him. He fell to his knees. His ankle hurt. But he had done enough training on his track team to be able to run in spite of it. He felt the ankle, didn’t think it was broken. He pulled the tab that released him from the glider suit and rose to his feet.
An Elenil guard stood at the wide door into the tower. “Hanali told us to expect you,” he said.
Of course he did. Of course. Darius loosed the Sword of Years and felt its fierce joy flood him. His lips pulled back from his teeth. “Drink your fill.” He stepped forward, the sword eager to lead him to the top of the tower.
Baileya wrapped Jason in a bear hug. “I knew you would be well! Did the Zhanin find you? Where is your Aluvorean friend?”
“I lost track of her. I did get away from a Zhanin, though.”
Baileya’s beautiful smile widened, and Jason felt the blood rush to his face. “How did you do this?” she asked.
“I made friends with a flying cat, and she blew him away with magical wind.” Shula and Madeline both laughed at this, Mads hanging on Shula’s shoulder. “No, really!”
The Heartwood Crown Page 32
