The Last Faerie Queen

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The Last Faerie Queen Page 12

by Chelsea Pitcher


  “There’s something else,” I whispered. “Alexia said Elora’s name means light in Greek.”

  This time, the Queen stepped back. “It means Crown of God in Hebrew,” she said after a second.

  “Do faeries believe in God?”

  “Not in the way that humans do.”

  “But they do believe in light. In fact, light and darkness might be the closest things you have to gods.”

  “You flatter me, young mortal. But this time, it will take more—”

  “Taylor?” Elora’s voice called out into the darkness. Soon, she’d catch a glimpse of the Bright Queen’s light. Soon, she’d be here.

  “You’d better be off,” the Queen said.

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No. You owe me this. I gave you my freedom.”

  “In exchange for Elora’s life.”

  “Just tell me one thing.” I could see shadows moving, could see Elora’s beautiful form getting closer. I had maybe ten seconds. “Why would a Princess of the Dark Court be named for the light?”

  The Seelie Queen laughed. She was laughing at me, taking pleasure in my distress. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “That’s why I’m asking.”

  But maybe it should’ve been obvious. Maybe I should’ve figured it out by then. But I hadn’t, or I refused to see it.

  One piece of the puzzle was still missing.

  “You know the rules,” the Queen said. “You give me an offering, and I’ll respond in kind.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, following her into the darkness. But the shadows seemed to be repelled by her, and wherever we went, eerie light trickled in.

  “There is a ritual,” she began, “which will make you stronger. It will bond you to this place, perhaps help Elora’s people accept you.”

  That sounds awesome.

  “What’s the catch?” I asked.

  She glanced behind my back. “The princess will not be happy about it.”

  “Will it hurt her?”

  “It will not harm a single hair on her head.”

  “What about the rest of her body?”

  Her lips twitched, amused by my thoroughness. “It may cause her to worry, nothing more.”

  “What about my body?”

  She paused. “The ritual itself will cause some pain. But you will come away stronger, and that pain will fall away.”

  “Will I still be … myself?”

  “You will have your body. Your heart. Your mind. Your spirit—”

  “Again, what’s the catch? What are you keeping from me?”

  “The ritual is strange. When it comes time to perform, I will need you to trust me. And forgive me for the strangeness.”

  “But it won’t mutilate me? I won’t wake up a monster?”

  She shook her head. “The ritual will not cause that level of transformation.”

  “Why are you even giving me a choice?” I asked, as Elora called out from behind me. Branches shook in the distance. “You have my name … ”

  “I am not like the dark faeries,” the Queen said, her eyes going wide. “What will it take to convince you of that? I want you to have free will. But there are certain eventualities that I must prevent—”

  “Like?”

  “There isn’t time to discuss it. Do you agree or not?”

  “If I don’t, will you perform the ritual anyway?”

  She was quiet, and the most terrible feeling settled over me. The answer is yes. She pretends to be different from the dark faeries, but in the end, she’ll get what she wants. You don’t really have a choice.

  Well then, I might as well get something out of the bargain.

  “I will agree to the ritual,” I said softly, “as long as you’ve told me the truth and Elora won’t be harmed. And I’ll still be myself.”

  “You will be better,” the Queen said, eyes flashing in the darkness. Then she disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone in a forest of illusions.

  When Elora burst out of the trees, she told me she’d been looking for me, and I told her I’d been looking for her. We kept our secrets, and a wall formed between us. But soon, the Queen would tell me what I wanted to know, and that wall would shatter.

  Then nothing would keep us apart.

  14

  ElorA

  The night before our departure, the Queen offered to tell us a story. From the way her entourage reacted, it was obvious this was a rare treat. For a few chaotic moments, I heard more whispering at the dinner table than I’d heard in the hallways of Unity High. Then a nymph called out, “Tell us a Naiad and Dryad!”

  “Oh, Darkness.” I chuckled into my goblet. Naiad and Dryad were characters in old folk tales, the kind used by mothers to warn their children away from humans: Dryad Discovers the Iron Railway; Naiad Gets Caught in a Fishing Net. I must’ve heard dozens of them. They always had a lesson.

  “What do you say, Lady?” I asked, my tongue properly loosened from the wine I’d been sipping. “Surely, the mortals would enjoy a good folktale.”

  The Bright Lady grinned, her eyes settling on Taylor. “I believe I have just the story. Maya de Livre?”

  The Queen’s royal storyteller, in all her gnarled glory, climbed onto the table and began waving her hands through the air.

  “Telling stories is complicated for the fey,” I explained to the humans as images took shape: a green and brown creature raced through the forest, while a lady with shimmering blue skin swam in a lake. “Surely, we can tell stories of things that have come to pass. But ‘fairy tales,’ as you call them, or stories that we have made up to entertain children, cannot simply be spoken, for speaking them would be a lie. Therefore, we must use glamour to illustrate what we are saying, and in this way, we are no longer lying. We are merely describing that which dances before our eyes.”

  “Wow,” Kylie breathed, as the creature called Naiad circled in the air as if swimming. That long blue hair trailed out around her, and tinted waves unfurled at her back. Meanwhile, Dryad danced on the land, spinning and spinning while leaves fell from her hair.

  “Once upon a time,” the Seelie Queen said, “Naiad and Dryad were sisters, in the way that all creatures of the universe are sisters. Both reveled in the beauty of the earth, and each adored the other. They were kindred, Naiad sticking to the shallows, and Dryad running alongside the shore, so that they could be together.”

  As the Queen spoke, the creatures in the air shifted, illustrating her words: the lady of the forest ran along a green, mossy bank, while the lady of the river splashed along beside her.

  “For many years, it was this way,” the Queen said. “But times change. The earth was ever shifting, ever lifting up her petals to unveil new layers, and while Dryad delighted in each revelation, Naiad grew afraid. She did not like the changes that were happening on the land. She clung to the old ways—the fluid, but constant, waters. She clung to the dark, where she could believe that things would always stay the same. And she began to distrust Dryad, and moved away from her, into the depths.”

  Together we watched as Naiad disappeared into a cool, dark body of water, until only her glowing blue eyes could be seen. Meanwhile, Dryad traveled the shores, searching for her friend.

  “Naiad retreated to the deep, moving farther and farther away from the world of the land. Eventually, she forgot how it felt to feel the sun on her skin. Even worse, she forgot her love for Dryad.” The Queen looked up, her green eyes glistening. “Enlisting the help of the creatures of the sea, Naiad came up with a plot to overthrow the creatures of the land. To usher in a new age of darkness.” More eyes appeared in the water, glowing gold and silver and green. “And though they could wipe out most of civilization in their quest for safety, many of them believed in Naiad’s plan. To them it seemed safe
r than the alternative. It seemed safer than change.

  “So it began. The war between two sisters. The battle that should never have been. Blood stained the rivers and soaked into the roots of the trees. Midsummer came, and the leaves were already red. Dryad began to fear for the lives of all of them. She had to find a way to get Naiad back.”

  Here the Queen smiled, a small, sinister thing. “And so Dryad came up with her own plan. You see, Dryad had known Naiad for thousands of years. She knew the way her sister thought, and what she feared.” She paused a moment before she said, “What she desired. So Dryad scoured the land for a creature that could warm Naiad from the inside.”

  “Why a creature of the land?” Keegan asked, as Maya de Livre waved her hands, pulling Dryad back into the forest.

  “You’re so impatient,” Kylie said, elbowing her brother. “Don’t you think she’s going to answer that?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  “It does if it wastes time—”

  The Queen cleared her throat and the leaves in the clearing took flight. They settled in around us, adorning our clothes, falling in our hair.

  “Sorry,” said the twins. They seemed unusually cheerful, considering we were about to go to war. Then again, the faeries had given Kylie a high-backed saddle earlier this week, which she could use to ride into battle. And Keegan was sneaking into the forest more and more often, returning with a lazy smile and joking that “a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  I suppose we were all taking pleasure where we could find it.

  “I forgive you.” The Queen smiled down at the twins. But she didn’t answer Keegan’s question, not then. She was too busy studying the figure that Maya de Livre was creating out of thin air. The boy with tanned skin and fiery hair. “Dryad found a boy she deemed to be an appropriate lover for her friend. And using old magic, she transformed him until he looked like a creature of the sea.” Slowly, the boy’s features darkened, until his hair was blue-black and his skin was cerulean. “She even granted him the power to breathe underwater for a short time. But an ancient creature like Dryad was still limited in certain things, and she warned the boy never to swim too deep.” The Queen paused, touching her lips. “It seemed a simple enough instruction.”

  “But it wasn’t?” This time it was Kylie who asked the question, and I expected Keegan to retaliate with all manner of protests. But he didn’t. It was clear he wanted to hear the rest of the story, and even the prospect of arguing with his sister could not distract him.

  “Alas, Dryad was foolish,” the Queen said. “The creature she chose to seduce her friend was a young thing.”

  “How young?” Taylor asked, tightening his grip on my hand. I closed my eyes at the feel of him.

  But they opened again when the Queen started speaking directly to him. “Not much older than you, sweet,” she gushed. “And just as beautiful, with your sun-kissed skin and untamable hair. Naiad didn’t stand a chance against his sweetness and beauty. His bravery.”

  “So she fell for him?” Taylor asked, squirming under her scrutiny.

  “She fell for him quite wholeheartedly,” the Bright Queen said, as Naiad led the boy into the shallows. “More so, even, than Dryad had anticipated. But just when Dryad was set to remove the glamour and prove to Naiad that dwellers of the land were worthy of loving, tragedy struck.”

  “Oh God.” Taylor turned to me, his eyes widened in shock. “He drowned.”

  “No way,” Kylie said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why would you say that? He didn’t drown—”

  “He did indeed,” said the Queen.

  “What?” Keegan and Alexia shouted together.

  The Seelie Queen nodded. “The boy was foolish. They all were, in a way. But Dryad was the biggest fool of all, for not seeing it coming. You see, being a creature of the water, and a lover of this particular boy, Naiad wanted to make love to him in her favorite place—a secret, underwater cave. He made it so far as the opening before his lungs began to cry out. He tried to swim back to the surface, but Naiad was confused. She thought she’d done something to upset him. She swam after him.”

  “Oh, no,” Taylor said, as Naiad chased after the drowning boy. Grabbing him around the waist, she dragged him back down into the depths.

  “She restrained him,” the Queen said, “begging him to tell her what was wrong. Believing wholeheartedly that he was a creature of the deep, she did not understand his struggling. And as she pressed her lips to his, he took his final breath.” The boy went limp in Naiad’s arms. “She let go then, and watched him float to the surface. In that moment, she realized what had happened.”

  “She figured it out?” Kylie asked.

  “She saw it,” I said, and they all turned to me. “Glamour applied in life dissolves in death. Living cells respond to it, but glamouring a dead thing is simply covering it up. That’s why I ran into trouble in the mortal world. I witnessed a mortal’s death, and glamoured her body to look like a log, hoping to borrow her identity. But I lingered too long, and the glamour faded. Her body was discovered.”

  “The real Laura Belfry,” Taylor murmured, and I nodded.

  “The glamour left this boy when he died, revealing his true form to Naiad,” the Queen said. “And in that moment, she understood everything.” Now Naiad’s lake grew darker, while Dryad’s forest grew thicker, each blocking the other out. “Thus, in her attempt to bring her friend back to the light, Dryad had pushed her over the edge, into an abyss from which she would never return.”

  “They never made up?” Kylie asked, trying to see Naiad in the darkness.

  The Queen shook her head. The change was subtle, but I was nearly certain I could see strands of red bleeding through her hair. “Naiad blamed Dryad for the death of her lover. Where there had once been discord, hatred bloomed between them.”

  “And the war raged on?” Taylor asked. He was studying the story the way he’d studied mine back in the mortal world. But this was only a fable. A story used to enrapture mortals.

  “The war worsened,” the Queen replied. “And Dryad grew even more desperate.”

  “Did she come up with another plan?” Taylor pressed.

  The Queen looked at him a long moment. “That is a story for another time.”

  “So that’s the end?” Keegan asked.

  “The end?” Kylie crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a horrible ending.”

  She cowered a little when the Queen narrowed her eyes. “Tragic, I mean.”

  “What are we supposed to take away from that?” Alexia asked.

  “Always be nice to your friends,” Keegan said, clasping his hands together in mock giddiness.

  Only Taylor remained silent, looking up at the Queen and studying her face. “It’s about difference,” he said after a minute. “Or perceived difference.” He waited for the Queen to nod before continuing.

  She did.

  “It’s about the way people destroy each other over imagined difference. And they all end up lonely, or dead.” After a moment, he added, “Am I right?”

  “You need to trust your instincts,” I murmured.

  To my surprise, he turned to look at me. “If I trusted my instincts, I’d say it’s about something else entirely.”

  15

  TayloR

  That night, I couldn’t sleep. I felt charged. Not only was I getting better with the bows and arrows (and the sword, in spite of Elora’s insistence that I fight on the fringes), but I was finally gaining headway in my investigation. Tomorrow, I’d figure out how to tell Elora what the Bright Queen’s story had revealed.

  Her father was a bright faerie.

  But not tonight. Because we’d taken the day off from fighting, to rest up for our travels, there was only one thing left to do. Turning on my side, I buried my face in Elora’s hair. She laughed. The sound was so soft, almost a
sigh, and when she turned to me, she smiled.

  Her eyes were so bright, I just … couldn’t help myself. I knew my friends were sleeping nearby, but there was maybe twenty feet between us, and besides, there wasn’t time to sneak off into the forest.

  This had to happen now.

  I started at her neck. I was still figuring out when to use my lips and when to use my tongue—I mean, what was the best, and where, but she didn’t seem to mind either way. She was sighing, hands curling into my hair, pulling me closer. But I wasn’t going to stay close, not tonight. Not like this.

  Pushing onto my hands and knees, I started trailing my kisses down. First over her shoulder, then down her arm. It was awkward, not nearly as smooth as it was in the movies; but then, I bet actors got a hundred takes to get it right. Me, I just had to dive in and hope things worked out.

  So I did.

  I inched past her waist, which I didn’t kiss because she was wearing clothes. After that came the skirt, and it was billowy and long. I thought maybe she’d stop me long before I got to my destination, but she didn’t. Instead she lay there, turned onto her side, facing me, because it hurt to lay on her back. Maybe it always would. But I could improvise.

  I was good at that.

  I reached the end of her skirt, finally, after twenty years of searching. Or so it seemed, but still, she didn’t stop me. She was following me with her eyes, this soft smile on her lips. And when my hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, she grinned.

  Then I was gone, into the darkness. I could hear Elora murmuring softly as I slid my fingers past her ankle. Then a soft sigh when my lips trailed up her calf. I licked her playfully, just above the knee, and she gasped.

  I had to stop for a minute to catch my breath. It wasn’t because of what I was doing. It was her. She intoxicated me. My limbs felt shaky and my entire being strained to reach her. I thought I would die if she didn’t touch me. I thought I would die if I didn’t taste her.

  One thing at a time.

  My heart started to race as I neared the center of her. My hands were heavy. My body was electric. I was running my tongue up the length of her thigh when the voice pulled me out of the darkness.

 

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