“I forgive you,” she said, ignoring my sarcasm.
“I’m ever so grateful,” I muttered as she landed on my outstretched hand. Her skin had a violet sheen, like she’d been rolling in glitter. “Will you tell me where they are?”
“No.”
I yanked my hand away.
She fell several inches before catching herself. “But I might tell you with whom. If you’re nice.”
“I’m nice. I’ll be nice.”
“And do everything I say.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
She giggled. “Smarty,” she said, tugging at my pants. “Smarty pants. Isn’t that something they say?”
She looked up, and I thought she was talking to the oak. But when I followed her gaze, I saw dozens of tiny, horn-tipped faces staring back at me. They shrieked, disappearing into the holes in the tree.
“Can we focus?” I sat on the bench and gestured for the faerie to join me. She settled in on my knee. “Tell me about my friends.”
“The little one’s off with the brownies,” she said, “making a secret weapon for the princess. Brownies know all about tools and trinkets and general forms of blacksmithery.”
“Blacksmithery?”
“Yeah, uh … ” She looked to the tree. “Isn’t that what humans say? Blacksmithery and jackassery and general buffoonery?”
“They say lots of dopey stuff,” replied a voice.
“Tough talk coming from someone who won’t even show her face,” I said.
A face appeared in one of the holes of the tree, all teeth and tongue. I stuck out my tongue at her. I couldn’t help it. These faeries brought out the kid in me.
“What about Alexia?” I asked when the face disappeared.
“The one who could’ve been a nymph?” asked the faerie. “She’s in session with the Bright Queen.”
“Session? Like school?”
“Uh huh. Acting school,” she said vaguely. Typical faerie.
“What part is she playing?” I asked.
“The part of the princess.”
“What? Why?”
“Because the princess cannot tell a lie. But if her followers ask about you … ”
“She can’t tell the truth.”
“Exactly. So if things go badly at the border, the mortal girl can travel there, pretending to be the princess, and put on a show.”
“Do you think things are going to go badly?” I asked, blood rushing through my ears. I tried to listen for sounds of distant distress, but Elora was too far away to be heard.
“I think the princess is very clever,” the faerie said. “But it is better to be safe than sorry. At least, that’s what the mortal girl said.”
“Sounds like Alexia,” I agreed. “What about Keegan?”
The faerie was coy. “Oh, him? He refuses to tell the Bright Lady how he can help. He’ll only tell the princess.” She giggled into her hand. “He’s off with the satyrs, studying other things.”
“Lucky him.”
“Aw, is the mortal lonely? Does he need me to make him feel better?”
“I don’t even know how that would work,” I said.
She shrugged. “We always find a way.”
“I bet. But I’m not interested. As you’ve probably heard, I’m in bed with the enemy. Or, at least … ”
“You’d like to be?” She flashed a grin.
I studied her for a minute. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? You don’t dislike her like the others do.”
“I live in the borderlands.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning … ” She rose, fluttering directly beside my ear. “The servants on the borderlands sometimes become friendly.”
“Seriously? Elora didn’t tell me anything about that.”
She laughed, and it reverberated through my ear canal. “She doesn’t know! You think we’d tip off the royals? They’d have our heads.”
“Our heads!” came a chorus from the tree.
“Well, your secret’s safe with me,” I promised, wondering if Elora knew more than this faerie suspected. Wondering if Naeve did.
“Hey, when we were in the graveyard,” I whispered, so only this faerie could hear, “the Prince of the Dark Court said something about Elora. He said she’d always been her father’s daughter. Do you know what that means?”
The faerie shook her head. But she didn’t say no, and I thought that was significant. Like, maybe she couldn’t say it.
“He said it was a secret,” I pressed. “And since secret couplings are something you know about, I wondered … ”
“I cannot speak of it!” the faerie hissed. Darting away from me, she disappeared into the tree.
Ah, so I’ve struck a nerve, I thought. But it wasn’t that surprising. Elora had pretty much told me the entire history of Faerie, but she’d never mentioned her father. I didn’t think she even knew who he was. I didn’t think her mother wanted her to know.
“Okay, well, I’ll just be here,” I said, picking up my paintbrush. “All alone in the forest.”
The faerie poked her head out of a hole. At least, I thought it was the faerie I’d been talking to, but I couldn’t tell for certain. They all had pale skin and scarlet horns. Still, it was probably annoying when people couldn’t tell them apart. If I could just study her more closely …
“Hey, I have an idea,” I called, dipping the paintbrush into some red paint. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. If I could paint an actual subject, it’d really help get the creative juices flowing.”
The faerie flitted out of the opening but didn’t come any closer. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. Brushing the canvas in an upward stroke, I drew a little red horn. “The color is just perfect.”
She inched closer, those wings buzzing furiously. “Is that going to be me ?” she asked. Her entire body was blushing.
“That’s the idea,” I said casually. “You could even keep it after, if you want.”
“I do. I want.” Her gaze shifted from me to the canvas, and she was smiling so big. It kind of made my heart hurt to see how obsessed the faeries were with humanity. The bright faeries needed to be close to us. The dark faeries needed to destroy us. What had life been like for them before humans came along? Were they happier then?
The dark faeries were, I thought, and a shiver ran through me. The dark faeries would do anything to revert to a world without humanity. But if I could discover the Dark Lady’s secret, maybe Elora could use it to gain leverage over her. Or over Naeve.
“I just need one little piece of information,” I said, pulling the brush away from the canvas.
The faerie zipped close to my ear. “I don’t know the secret,” she said.
“Who does?” I swirled my brush in a little bowl of water. Next, I mixed white paint with red and blue, to match the faerie’s skin tone. Her eyes followed me hungrily.
“Naeve knows,” she confirmed. “And the other Lady. The one whose name I’m forbidden to speak.”
“Who’s forbidden you?” I asked, trying to remember the Dark Lady’s name. Virayla?
“Who do you think?” She fluttered closer, breath tickling my ear. “The same faerie who has the information you seek. The Bright Queen.”
–––––
That night, after I met up with my friends, the Queen’s “favored ladies” gave us humans a tour of the grounds. They showed us a waterfall where we could bathe, and strange petals we could rub against our bodies to get clean. They even had leaves that tasted like mint and left our teeth feeling like they’d just been brushed. The only thing left to hope for was a toilet, and while I wasn’t expecting running water and porcelain, the faeries’ version of a bathroom was actually pretty impressive.
First of all, it was private, situated beneath
a gigantic tree that split open at the base to let us in. Even Kylie could wheel in and out with relative ease. There were vines hanging over the entrance, to block passersby from looking inside, and the toilet itself looked fairly comfortable, formed out of mud and covered in vines. To the left sat a stack of moss-colored leaves.
When Maya de Lyre came up behind me, whispering, “It’s mostly a hole glamoured to look like a toilet,” I actually laughed. There’s something unsettling about being given everything you want, without even having to ask.
So I leaned back and said, “As long as there’s not poison ivy glamoured to look like TP, I’ll be okay.”
She smiled, taking my hand. “I have a surprise for you.”
My heart leapt. Had she already figured out a way to free me from the Seelie Queen? And how? A dozen scenarios danced through my head as she led me down a path filled with brambles and vines. Had she sacrificed a virgin? No. That’s something the dark faeries might do, but not the bright. Had she performed an amazing, non-stop dance for twenty-four hours? Had she given up her freedom? I was about to ask. But suddenly we burst into a clearing, and the words died on my lips.
In their place, new ones were born. “Holy wicked arsenal, Batman.”
Maya de Lyre smiled, turning to me. “You like it?”
I stepped up to the green, woven blanket spread out across the grass. And on the blanket was, well, everything my mind could conjure. Knives, all laid out in a line, arranged from smoothest blade to most jagged edge. Beside them was an ax, big enough to take down a giant, and next to that—
“Good God, is that a flail ?”
Maya de Lyre giggled like I’d asked her on a date. “It is indeed.”
“Whose weapons are these? Are these yours?” I asked, heart pounding and hands tightening to fists. It was hard to keep my distance, hard not to pick up one of those blades and start swinging.
“No. They’re yours,” she said.
I spun to face her. “Um … what?”
“I gathered them for you. I thought you would like them.”
The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “I do, but … ” I tried to stay rational, tried to remind myself of the rules of Faerie.
Faeries rarely do anything for free. Isn’t that what Elora had told me, back in the mortal world? They like trades.
“What will it cost me?” I asked.
“Nothing, dear mortal. Taylor,” she added, as if we were fast friends. And maybe we were. Maybe we could be.
Maybe this was exactly what it seemed. I stepped forward, not touching any of the weapons yet, just looking at them. They were so shiny. God, they were so sharp. They were perfect.
“So I can take them and not give anything back?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What made you think I’d want them?”
She tilted her head like the question was strange. Like all of this—the water to bathe in, the weapons, my every desire being granted—was perfectly normal, and I was the weird one.
“Isn’t it common for mortal boys to dream of weapons?” she asked. “Admittedly, we do not have guns or … explosives. We faeries have other ways of dealing with adversity.”
“Like magic.”
“Like magic. We can bring the storms. Bring floods. Bid the forest to wake. Shooting a single bullet seems … unnecessary.”
I started to shiver a little with all this talk of death. I mean, yes, I wanted to defend myself, and defend Elora, but I wouldn’t kill for fun. There was nothing fun about it. I remembered that from the graveyard. I’d only slammed the branch into Naeve’s head to save Elora.
Well, that, and you wanted to see his blood run over your hands. Wanted to see him slumped on the ground. Until it actually happened.
I took a step back, because now I could see another version of myself. Not Taylor the hero. Taylor the bloodthirsty warlord. I mean, honestly, how many people entered into battle thinking they were the former, only to wind up the latter? How could you ever really tell if hacking someone up was justified? Because that guy, on the other side, wanting to hack you up? He thinks he’s the good guy too.
I mean, he must.
“You didn’t do this because I’m a mortal boy,” I said, the gravity of my thoughts centering me in reality. “You did it because I said I wanted to fight. Last night, at dinner.”
“Do you still want to?” she asked, green eyes glistening. They were lighter than mine, a bright, golden-green, and that soothed me somehow. When my eyes were too much like a faerie’s, it freaked me out.
“What about the Queen?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want me to.”
“The Queen is distracted. Each night, she holes herself up in her bower, blocking out every possible sound, to practice the spell that will bind the Dark Lady.” Maya de Lyre smiled. “Besides, if my investigation goes well … ”
“It won’t matter if she wants me to fight.” Finally, I smiled back. “But I’m doing something different now. Something Elora wants me to do.”
“Ah yes, the little pictures.”
“It’s what Elora wants.”
“Well, aren’t you obedient?” She sashayed over to the swords. Her dress went swish, swish, swish around her legs. “And here I thought the bright faeries had a reputation for making humans into pets.”
“I’m not her pet,” I snapped. “I’m her … ”
“Lover?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough. Boyfriend, then?”
“We haven’t discussed … I mean, she hasn’t explicitly said—”
“Much of anything, has she?”
“I know how she feels.”
“Tell me.” And she waited, expectantly, while I tried to pull something out of thin air.
“I know that she cares about me,” I said.
“We all care about you. We all want you to be happy.”
“It’s more than that.”
“What is it, then? I’d truly love to know.”
“It’s … ”
Love? Elora had never said that word, never admitted to loving anyone. Now she was gone, and I didn’t even know when she was coming back.
Days, if all goes well …
“What if I want to practice fighting?” I said, taking a single step. “I mean, no promises. No deals. No caveats. No tricks.”
The faerie nodded, but she didn’t speak.
I knew there was a significance in that, but I’d already started. “I’ll still paint during the day. But at night, after everyone goes to sleep, we can sneak away here and practice. All of us can. Just in case we decide to fight in the revolution.”
“If you’re allowed to fight,” Maya de Lyre said solemnly.
I felt a flash of anger, and picked up a sword. It felt heavy in my hand. It felt right. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
8
ElorA
The forest grew darker before my eyes. Trees reached out long, gnarled branches and clasped hands. Trunks grew wider until there were no spaces between them. Surely, a faerie with wings could crest those branches easily, but I could climb for days and never reach the top. I could climb until my limbs gave out and I fell, uselessly, to the ground.
So here I stood, watching the Unseelie Forest block me out. Once the trees had finished their dirty work, they slid their roots back into the ground, and were silent.
“What is the meaning of this?” I called. “Why are you keeping me out?”
“Not us,” said a voice, and Illya peered out of the darkness. She sat on a branch just above my head. “Your mother.”
“My mother?” Her words knocked the breath from me. “Surely, she doesn’t know … ”
“What you’ve been up to? Well, yes and no.” Illya skittered down the branch, finally climbing onto my shoulder, s
o we could talk privately. “Naeve spun his yarn. Painted you as the human-loving harlot. Made quite a show, actually—”
“Illya, please. I need you to focus. Does she know of the revolution?”
“No, nor of your deal with the Seelie Queen. She doesn’t even know where you are. Not for certain.”
“What, then?”
“She knows you were spotted with humans. She knows they put their hands on you—”
“To carry me to safety. To save my life!”
“Not as Naeve tells it. He believes you have chosen them over us.”
“So I’m banished, then?” I asked, trying to still the fluttering in my chest. Trying to still the fear and the chill and the panic.
“No, not banished. The Dark Lady believes we can bring you back. Believes we can … cleanse you of the human filth on your skin.”
Good luck, I thought and snorted. But to Illya, I said, “What do I have to do?”
She paused, kneading my hair with her hands. “Something you will not do.”
“Meaning?”
“Provide your mother with a proper offering. Bring the mortals to her, to show your allegiance. If you hand over the people who helped you, the people you helped in the graveyard, she’ll know you don’t care for them, and she’ll welcome you back into the fold.”
“Oh, is that all?” I said with a laugh.
Illya was not amused.
“Oh, come now,” I said, softening my voice. “This doesn’t change everything. It doesn’t have to change anything. Come the Solstice, she’ll be weakened, and you can smuggle me in through the tunnels running under the court. We’ll use glamour to make me look like a servant. The revolution will go as planned, and you can—”
“I’m sorry, Lady. That isn’t going to happen.”
“I know you’re scared,” I said, reaching up to touch her hand. She didn’t reach back. “But I will protect you. I will fight for you, if we’re caught. I will go down swinging—”
“I cannot let you enter!” she shrieked. This close to me, the sound reverberated in my ear.
I fell silent.
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