by K. C. Lannon
Playing soldier… that’s what Elaine said.
And Boyd…
Iain rolled his eyes. “Right,” he told himself sharply, putting an end to that line of unproductive thinking. “That’s enough of that. Neither one of them is exactly known for their sage insight.”
But what if they had been right? That was the worst thing he could think of, that maybe people like them knew him better than he wanted to believe. Maybe he was no better than what they thought of him.
If they were right… I guess I’ll just have to do better. I’ll prove them wrong. I’ll be better.
Soldier or not, warden or not, Philip had still, for whatever reason, tasked him with something. He might have deserted, but he could still keep his promise. Even if he might no longer be part of the Iron Guard and even if his father and Boyd had managed to thrive and hide their radicalized ideals within the system, Iain still had faith in the military.
A surge of confidence and relief washed over him. He would figure this out. The Iron Guard would do something about it. They would know Deirdre was innocent. They would take him seriously. They would look into Philip’s claims, and then maybe his sacrifice wouldn’t have been for nothing.
After repacking his items in his bag, Iain trudged back into the room and flopped onto his side of the bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, not moving once in the night or even dreaming.
He must have slept very well, because when he sat up groggily that morning, not even remembering where he was, James pointed to him, his face twisting in disgust, and said, “You’ve got drool all over your chin!”
Still, Iain’s spirits were not dampened, and he just wiped his face and clapped his hands together, shouting brightly, “Get a move on, James. We’ve got to check out by seven—”
“You slept through your alarm.” James interrupted. “It’s already past seven.”
“Well, that’s fair. I’ll get a move on then. I want to pop in a shop or two before we leave town. We’ve got to stock up on supplies, and I saw a spice shop on the way in.”
With that, he leaped out of bed, washed his face, grabbed his pack, and headed out of the room and down to the bar to meet the others, determined and ready for the day ahead.
Chapter Seven
Deirdre woke up feeling painfully stiff; the mattress was exceptionally soft, with little support, which was great for a quick rest but not for a whole night’s sleep, especially for someone accustomed to firmer beds or sleeping outdoors. She moved slowly, barely out of bed before James rapped on her door and told her they were going down to get breakfast and then leave.
By the time she got ready, packed, and went downstairs, James and Iain were halfway through their meals.
“Good morning.” She yawned, tossing her backpack under the table with a heavy thump. “Where’s Alvey?”
James looked around, as if expecting the girl to pop out of the woodwork. “Dunno,” he said through a mouthful. “Haven’t seen her.”
“I’ll go wake her up then.”
“Let’s wait a moment.” Iain looked at her. “This gal says she’s from the Summer Court, but how do we know she really knows the way there?”
“What do you mean?”
“She might be lying.”
Deirdre’s mouth fell open. “No way! People wouldn’t lie about that kind of thing. Would they?”
Iain was already shaking his head. He smiled wryly as he said, “During my training in the city, I heard faeries boast they were high up in the Summer Court nobility—mostly when they were in trouble. Said they’d get the king himself to strike me with a Faery Stroke. Most of them were probably Unseelie.”
“She doesn’t seem Unseelie,” James commented, though he sounded a bit hesitant.
“The point is, we all know the Summer Court is sealed off, yeah? That’s why it’s impossible to get into it, normally. That’s probably why you’re meant to find the Summer Prince. So basically, we’ll need evidence before we believe her.”
Deirdre huffed, looking away. While she could see the logic in Iain’s words, her first instinct was to disagree. He doesn’t trust me, he doesn’t trust Alvey—is there anything he does trust?
“How could she even prove something like that anyway?” she asked, snapping unintentionally.
James’s eyes lit up, and he dove for his bag, pulling out books as he replied hastily, “There are lots of things that are supposed to only be inside the Summer Court, or the Winter Court for that matter. Faeries make their own kinds of agriculture and jewelry and clothes, and they use magic to do it all in ways that humans can’t! For example, there are supposed to be orchards in the Summer Court with apples that have pure gold skins and taste like peaches and—”
“We’ll ask her over breakfast,” Iain cut in. “If she’s really from the Court, she’ll have some kind of proof on her.”
Deirdre hesitantly nodded in agreement. “Fine, all right.”
After getting the room number from the innkeeper, she headed down the hall and knocked loudly on Alvey’s door. No response.
“Alvey?”
It was quiet inside.
She knocked harder and then pressed her ear to the door to listen. “Alvey! It’s morning! We need to go!”
In response was an odd hissing noise, followed by growling. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Deirdre! We’re going to the caves today, remember?”
Alvey groaned. “’Tis too early… Wake me in an hour.”
“What? No, it’s time for breakfast. Alvey, let me in!”
The hissing sound came again.
Deirdre reached down, steeled herself, and then grabbed the iron doorknob, trying it out. To her surprise, it was unlocked, and with the iron burning her hand, she threw the door open and promptly released the knob, stepping inside. Alvey was still curled up in bed, covers pulled over her head.
Scoffing, Deirdre kicked the door shut and walked over, saying, “Who knew faeries were so lazy?”
“Too early!” Alvey replied, muffled.
In response, Deirdre reached over, grabbed the covers, and pulled them off her in one smooth motion.
Alvey was sleeping in her dress and shawl, with only her thick headband-scarf taken off. The girl jerked upright, reaching for the covers, almost snatching them back before Deirdre retreated farther.
“I am not some sort of farming faery!” she shrieked, slamming her fists down on the mattress.
Entirely unmoved by her outburst, Deirdre replied in a firm voice, “We need to get going soon. James and his brother have things to do too; the sooner we get in and out of those caves, the better!”
Groaning in exasperation, Alvey rolled her head back; if her eyes weren’t sealed shut, she’d probably be rolling them as well.
Alvey declined Deirdre’s help in getting ready and, when she wheeled out to the table, refused most of the breakfast except for some tea and a slice of bread. As Deirdre dug into her country breakfast of sausage, eggs, tomatoes, and mushrooms with toast, James was leafing through his notebook, occasionally glancing eagerly at Alvey, who completely ignored everyone.
Once Alvey was nearly finished, Iain cleared his throat and asked, “Alvey, you said last night you were from the Summer Court, right?”
“Aye.”
James slapped his notebook on the table excitedly. “Do you have night-blooming flowers with bioluminescence? Or golden apples? Or clothes made of dew and morning cool? Or—”
Alvey sipped so loudly on her tea it reminded Deirdre of a horse sucking up water. Then the girl asked, “Methinks you wish to see evidence that I am from the Summer Court?”
“Yes,” Iain replied before his brother could.
“Humph!” Alvey folded her arms. “Is it because of my eyes? Or something else about my appearance? Do I truly look so unlike a Noble Faery? Do I just look so cursed or common that you must have some sort of extra proof aside from my own good word? Well, fine then!”
She reached for the narrow cloth cubby unde
r the seat of her chair and, after rifling around for a moment, pulled out a very small leather pack. She opened it and extracted a tiny flower. It had a brown-green stem and prickled leaves, like a berry would have.
The bloom was a round shape, like a peony, but with distinctly pointed petal tips. In addition, the colors were warm, bright, and variegated, more so than any other flower Deirdre had ever seen or read about. And each petal seemed to let off its own faint light, making the flower appear more like a flame than a plant.
“How pretty!” Deirdre reached over and touched it with just one careful fingertip; it was warm to the touch, like an oven beginning to heat up.
James was scanning through his notebook hastily.
“This is a star-shard flower,” Alvey said. “This flower was crafted by the Summer King two centuries ago. It grows only in the Court.”
“Why did he make it?” Deirdre asked; she noticed Iain was staring at it was well, his mouth slightly parted.
She grinned. I guess magic isn’t all bad, is it Iain?
“He made it as a gift for the queen,” Alvey replied. “They were divided over something, and she would not quite relent until he made some small gesture. So he made the smallest, easiest gesture possible.” She bit down on her lip and continued in a low voice, “You would do well to not tell him I said that.”
Patting excitedly on a page in his book, James scooted close beside Alvey, his face practically colliding with the flower. “Everything she said, um, matches my notes! But I didn’t know that story about the king; how often do faeries make flowers like this? Is it normal? Is it easy for them to do? How do they—”
“The Summer Court is sealed off, isn’t it?” Iain asked, tearing his eyes away from the flower with some reluctance to focus on Alvey. “How did you manage to leave? Isn’t it hard to get in and out?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Aye, ’tis difficult; only the Summer Prince can open or close the barrier without causing a disruption. So…” A definitely impish smile lit up her face. “I snuck out when the barrier was open for a host of faeries out for the hunt. ’Tis not the first time I have done so.”
“Uh-huh. And you wheeled yourself all the way down here?”
“Nay, I used magic to spirit myself down to my mark, the Forest Caves. And then I decided to spend the night here before going to them.”
“How did you use magic to do that? Why didn’t it take you right to the caves? And why didn’t you just go in last night?” James asked.
“Going abroad at night is often unsafe,” Alvey replied, completely ignoring his first two questions, taking another sip of her tea.
As they finished and stood up to leave, Iain said, “Before we leave town, I need to do some shopping.”
“For what?” Deirdre asked, standing up with a wince; her legs and back were still a bit stiff.
“Spices, things to cook with.”
“Okay.” She grinned at Alvey. “How about we walk around town while they do that? Get some fresh morning air.”
Alvey finished her last draught of tea and then replied, “Very well, as long as you push my chair. My arms are tired from rising so early.”
James let out a short laugh. “Your arms are tired from getting up early? That’s, um, kinda—”
“Some of us actually use our arms for more than just eating,” Alvey said.
Redding a bit, James said stiffly, “I have to carry things! And write, and—”
“Lifting up a quill or one of your pens must be so terribly difficult. ’Tis exactly like pushing two wheels all day long. Truly, your thin papers and tiny pens are—”
Before this could escalate any further, Deirdre slung her pack onto the back of Alvey’s chair and pushed her quickly out the door.
The village’s paved road shone in the morning dew, with the pale rising sun not yet covered by the blanket of gray clouds rolling in. Villagers going to their places of work or running errands, and farmers with loads in trucks or on their beasts passed them by, ignoring them.
After seeing the two brothers disappear into a shop down the street, Deirdre frowned at the top of Alvey’s head. “You should really try to get along with James. There’s no need to be so sarcastic!”
“Nothing I said was uncalled for,” Alvey had replied unflinchingly.
“That’s not true. You were being unpleasant.”
“So?”
Deirdre pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. “So, you don’t go around being unpleasant for no reason, especially when other people are just trying to be friendly and talk! It can hurt their feelings.” When Alvey didn’t respond, Deirdre prompted, “Don’t faeries get their feelings hurt when people are unkind or mean?”
Alvey huffed, folding her arms. “Well, I imagine I would not know. I am not a full-blooded faery.”
Deirdre stopped pushing the chair. “What?”
“Just what I said.”
“So, you’re part human?”
“Nay, I am half elf.”
“…But you are part human?”
“Aye, but that is not really the part that matters.”
“Hm…” Deirdre leaned forward, studying Alvey’s face. “If you’re half elf, why don’t you have pointed ears?”
Alvey groaned, shaking her head. “Not all elves have pointed ears, especially not in their early years. A Light Elf, which my mother was, often does not grow into them for ages.”
“Huh! So you might get pointed ears when you’re older?”
“I find that unlikely. Human blood tends to prevent that.”
“So… do you look like a Light Elf at all? You look normal to me.”
Letting out a scoff, Alvey raised her hands in exasperation. “Normal! Nay, you do not mean ‘normal.’ You mean, like a human. Do you not?”
“Well…” Deirdre gulped. “I guess that isn’t normal if you’re a faery, huh?”
“Aye, ’tis not. There are similarities, but they are not the same. For instance, a healthy Light Elf often channels Light Magic at all times, illuminating his whole being. I, clearly, do not do that.”
“But! In the city, Neo-London, lots of the faeries there looked really human! And I mean, just look at me!”
Alvey turned her head slowly so Deirdre could see her sealed eyes, a wry grin on her face.
“I look really human,” Deirdre clarified. “I practically am one!”
“But you are not one.”
Her breath hitching, Deirdre halted at Alvey’s words. She gripped the wheelchair handles hard, as if for dear life. She hadn’t heard anyone state the truth—something she was still accepting—quite so frankly, so casually.
It felt like she’d been slapped.
“Still,” Alvey went on, “’tis true that some types of faeries look very, very human. An ill Light Elf could possibly be mistaken for a human.”
“R-right. Right, I saw… I mean, I’ve seen faeries that look human before.” Deirdre gulped hard. “But aren’t the human-looking ones usually bad…?”
“They are often Unseelie.”
“But I’m going to the Summer Court. The banshee told me to go to the Summer Court. That means I’m Seelie, doesn’t it?”
Alvey flicked her wrist airily, as if brushing the question away. “I would assume so. I do not sense anything malicious about you.”
“So.” She smiled. “I really am Seelie for sure then?”
Alvey folded her arms. “There is one way to tell, with absolute certainty.”
Deirdre walked over to crouch eye level beside Alvey eagerly, her hopes rising. “What’s that?”
“Does human blood taste pleasant to you?”
“Eww!” Deirdre stood up straight, hands on her hips. “Alvey, don’t talk about gross stuff like that.”
“’Tis just a question! Truly, does it appeal to you?”
“Of course not! And a question like that is not polite or called for!” She gestured to herself sharply, digging her finger into her collarbone. “Just because I’m a fae
ry doesn’t mean I’m going to start attacking people—I am not some kind of monster!”
The blond girl threw her hands up in the air, face upturned as if questioning the heavens why she was doomed with such suffering. “Fie! You ask if you are Seelie or Unseelie, and I just tell you the biggest difference is a taste for human, mortal blood—”
“That is not what you said!”
“—and you suddenly don’t want to talk about it? You’re truly changeable enough to be Unseelie!”
“Okay, fine, fine!” Deirdre ran her hands over her face. “Again, the answer is no.”
“Then you are not Unseelie.”
“Okay. Good.”
Next time then, I’ll have an answer for Iain. She grimaced. If he’ll accept it. But since Alvey’s from the Summer Court, she’d know, and he knows that, right? Right…
As she started pushing the chair along again, mulling over this new information, she asked, “So, you’re half elf… Can you use magic?”
Shaking her head, Alvey replied, “I cannot, thanks to my human blood. Yet I can sense it, and I have learned from observation how it works, reacts… how it moves hither and thither, where it is present, where it is not… Not all half elves manage such feats.”
“Wow.” Deirdre furrowed her brow, looking down at her hands. “I had no clue any of that was even possible.”
Tilting her nose up in the air, Alvey smirked widely.
They were silent for a few moments as they reached the end of the village’s main street, which led out to a wide, winding road into the countryside, heading toward hills covered with trees. Smiling at the sight, Deirdre reluctantly turned, walking back toward the buildings; she didn’t want to be far when the brothers were done with their shopping and ready to leave.
Before they reentered the town, Alvey sat up straight, sniffing the breeze blowing by, reminding Deirdre of a dog.
“Smell the bakery or something?” she asked with a grin; she couldn’t smell anything beyond the fresh air and the hint of greenery.
