The Last Faerie Queen

by Chelsea Pitcher

  Fair enough, I thought. I’ll just pin her top half against something. But with what?

  Glancing around, I saw the ground was littered with knives. Kylie, I thought, my eyes drifting to the outskirts again. I couldn’t see her, but it didn’t matter. A quick look around the battlefield showed what she’d been doing. Rather than aiming her knives at people’s hearts or temples, she’d been wounding them, so that they’d stumble and be overcome by dark servants.

  Clever trick. Clever and merciful, for she wasn’t taking their lives. She was only incapacitating them. Still, as I watched Naeve yank the crown from his head, swaying dizzily, I knew Kylie would not be merciful with him. If she reached him before I could reach him, things would get uglier than they already were.

  Better make this quick.

  I swooped down, plucking three knives from the ground. In quick succession, I hurled them at the Lady Claremondes’ chest. The first pushed her back, into a tree that looked like a signpost. The second lodged in her chest, stealing her breath. But with the third blade, I gave a little extra oomph, and it slid through her body like she was made of butter.

  It pinned her to the tree.

  I should’ve walked away then. Should’ve sought the stage and taken down Naeve. Should’ve used the vantage point to locate Taylor and come to his aid. But I didn’t. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just walked toward her with a grin. “Funny how a flightless faerie can still take you down, isn’t it?” I said, grabbing a strand of her hair. The long, circular dreadlock she used as a noose.

  “You speak like them. You fight like them. You’ll fall like them.”

  “I’ve already fallen, and come back.” I wrapped the hair around her neck. Not like a noose, but over and over again, the way a python wraps around its victim.

  A punishment befitting a snake.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t just let her die quietly, allowing her world to fade to black. I didn’t have such mercy in me. I wanted her to bleed. To shake. To scream. I wanted to poison her the way she’d poisoned me. And, as I looked to the trees, locating a thin, delicate web, I knew how to do it.

  “Come lovelies,” I whispered, and started to chant under my breath. I felt it in my fingers first, prickling like sweat, as the spiders in the forest lifted their heads to listen to me. And slowly, like sap seeping from a tree, their venom leaked out of their fangs and crawled through the air, dancing toward me.

  Oh, the dance! I hadn’t even realized how much I’d missed fighting until this moment. But Naeve had made my childhood hell, and I’d risen to the occasion. Drown me, and I’ll suffocate you. Toss me off a cliff, and I’ll bring back the waves to crash over your head.

  Poison me and, well, wait and see …

  I grinned as the venom settled under my fingernails, making a home there. The Lady’s face was turning blue from the choking, and I lowered my lips to her ear. “This is for me. This is for him. This is for the life I could’ve lived.”

  I dug my nails into her neck. And that wicked, poisonous creature, oh, how she screamed. Shaking, her face a pleasant purple, she shrieked with a vengeance, her body suffering spasms.

  “Oh, beautiful,” I said. But I didn’t feel joy. Not like I used to feel when I’d bested Naeve. Quiet guilt settled over me, and I thought of Kylie. I thought of how she’d shaken when the Lady Claremondes had licked her neck.

  Here, she was vindicated, but it didn’t matter. Her brother was still dead. I saw a flash of her between two buildings. She was closing in on Naeve.

  This game of torture had to end. Yanking the knives from the Lady Claremondes’ chest, I tossed her to the ground, calling to the pixies that fluttered around me.

  “Hungry, my darlings?” I asked.

  They flashed sharp teeth. Of all the beings in the Unseelie Court, the Lady had tortured the pixies the worst. She loved the way their bodies crunched when she bit into them. Loved to snap their necks. She loved to whip them and break them and laugh.

  Now they hovered about, gossamer wings flapping furiously, so tiny and beautiful except for those fangs. The least I could do was feed them. The least I could do was step aside and let them have their vengeance.

  “Dinner is served,” I announced, pushing away into the crowd.

  I heard them surround her, buzzing in a swarm. I heard tiny teeth sinking in. I heard screams, then, nothing. Or rather, everything else, as the battle reached a fever pitch. I pushed forward, tuning the noises out, until a horse brayed.

  I spun around, my heart racing. Across the battlefield, Kylie’s horse reared up on its hind legs, nearly tossing her to the ground. She’d almost made it to Naeve. Now she hung in midair, trying desperately to keep from falling as dark courtiers circled below.

  I changed direction, racing toward her. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. And I knew, with crushing clarity, that if she dropped to the ground, I wouldn’t reach her in time.

  39

  TayloR

  As I watched Kylie dangle in midair, I wanted to race over to her. Wanted to swing my sword like a madman, cutting down anyone in my path. But I couldn’t. Something was holding me back.

  Literally. A hand around my neck.

  I turned, twisting out of his grip, feeling the bruises forming. Damn, this guy was big. But I guess you’d have to be, to play bodyguard to the Dark Prince.

  “Guess the nymph didn’t kill you?” I snarled, circling him.

  Olorian waved a hand. His skin was as black as the Unseelie Forest, as black as the polished spires of the castle. I followed his gesture to the twisted body of a nymph on the ground.

  No, no, no.

  I felt my muscles clenching, to protect me from the nausea. I felt my brain whispering stories: she might not be dead. I felt my reflexes bending over backward as waves of shock washed over me, making it impossible to process such destruction. Death. Game over. The end.

  Who could process that?

  Even now, as that great, hulking mass stumbled toward me, his footfalls shaking the ground, his hands large enough to crush me like a soda can, my body just acted, leaping out of his grip. Doing what was necessary to survive.

  A miraculous thing, really.

  Sure, think of miracles. Think of beauty, as bodies lie twisted all around. That’s appropriate.

  But I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop searching for signs of life, of beauty, amongst all the blood and broken bones. I needed that balance. I needed that hope.

  Especially now, as Olorian approached, grinning. “Well, well, well,” he said, his mouth a gaping abyss. “If it isn’t the boy who sullied the princess.”

  “Maybe after I kick your ass, I can sully her some more.”

  Whoa. Did I just say that? It seemed like the guy I was in my mind and the guy I was in real life were merging into the same person. The one who stared into the face of danger and laughed. The one who didn’t let insecurity keep him from doing what he wanted.

  Well, this I could work with.

  I reached into my belt, drawing out my sword. “Maybe after all is said and done, I can sully her brains out.” I grinned, swinging the sword with expert precision. (At least, this is what I told myself.) “And she can sully mine.”

  Olorian swiped at me, his nails catching my shoulder as I jumped away.

  “See, that’s the problem with big guys,” I taunted, swinging the sword again. My back didn’t even hurt anymore, not like it had. That’s what happens when you mix faerie drugs with adrenaline.

  A dangerous cocktail, my friend, I thought and laughed.

  “You think you’re so tough, but you move too slow, and this happens.” I sliced the sword once, then twice, slashing a long, red X across Olorian’s stomach. “That’s why, in a bet, I’d take a scrapper over a big guy anytime.” I lashed out again.

  This time, his hand went around the blad
e and pulled forward.

  Shit. I’d forgotten how easily faeries could heal. If I was going to do damage, it needed to be of the mortal variety. And it needed to be fast.

  Kylie was shrieking from her corner of the battlefield as faeries clawed the air, waiting to welcome her into their circle. When an arrow hit one of them in the back, I knew Alexia was closing in.

  Time to join her, I thought, and tightened my grip on the sword’s hilt. I yanked the blade out of his hand.

  Olorian yelped like a dog that’s been stepped on, and I stumbled backward. I mean, I pretended to stumble. Then I pretended to fall, angling my head so it landed on a rock. In reality, I was using my arm to cushion the fall, but Olorian was distracted, staring at his mangled hand.

  When he looked at me, the sword resting loosely in my palm, my eyes closed, he thought I’d been knocked out.

  He started to laugh. Then he strode over to me. Those footfalls were heavy, and I had to close my fingers, just a little, to keep the sword from clattering to the ground.

  Olorian stood over me, chortling loudly. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

  He kicked my gut, and I tried not to wince.

  Just a little closer, I thought.

  And yes, he leaned in. “That’s the problem with you mortals,” he said. I closed my hand around the hilt. “You think you’re so incredibly special, but you’re nothing. You’ve no power and no magic, you weak, pathetic parasite.”

  Come on, I thought. Threaten Elora. Threaten my reason for living, so I can slice you into pieces.

  It was an odd thought to have, but probably not uncommon. How many of us would defend our loved ones before we’d defend ourselves? Like Kylie had said, she might not kill to save her own life, but she’d kill for Alexia.

  Wait, what did that say about us? We would kill for others, but not for ourselves? No, I couldn’t be that person. I needed to live for myself. Needed to believe I was worthy of life. After that, Elora and I could fight alongside each other.

  But first, I needed to live for me.

  “Sweet dreams, foolish mortal,” Olorian said, preparing to smash me into oblivion. When he lifted his arm, I lifted mine.

  Mine had a sword in it.

  He lunged, and I lunged too. Together, we found each other, but his fist didn’t meet my flesh. My blade met skin, then muscle, then bone. It slipped into him like a hand slips into water. And it just kept slipping, as red, gushing liquid rushed out of him. (It helped to think of it as “liquid” and not something else.) It didn’t stop slipping until the hilt slammed into his ribs. The sound was … unfortunate. Sharp and grating, but also wet. Like grinding a stone in a swamp. I almost lost my lunch then. Almost lost everything I’d ever eaten.

  And then I did.

  It happened as he fell forward, crushing me beneath him. Across the way, I heard a horse bolting for the trees. Heard Kylie falling to the ground. Calling for Alexia, who had to be close, but was she close enough?

  I tried to free myself. But it was hard. This fucker was big. And now I could feel everything, every place where the Bright Queen’s needle had pierced my back. The wings dug into me as I turned, pushing, pulling.

  It can’t end like this. Please. God. Mother Earth. Anyone.

  I heard a voice responding in my ear. Asking for a sacrifice. And I almost said no, because I was so sick of sacrifices.

  But I needed to survive this.

  The scream tore out of me as I pulled my body in an unnatural direction. It was the only way, the only opening between him and the air. His body. Olorian. Yeah, he was dead, and now my leg was broken.

  I heard it crunch as I pulled away.

  Come on, shock, I thought as I pushed myself to my feet, then fell again. Come on, adrenaline. I need you.

  Nope. Nothing.

  Well, how do you like them apples? Olorian was lying on my sword, and there was no way I was getting it back. Shooting a final glance in his direction, I started to crawl across the courtyard.

  One foot in front of the other, I reminded myself. Then, No, one hand in front of the other. Either way, I would make it. I’d throw Kylie a knife, and together, we’d save ourselves. Yes.

  Fairy tales are nice when you’re nearing the end.

  When I caught a flash of red hair, all the way across the battlefield, I almost cried from relief. Then I looked up and saw Naeve watching her too.

  No, no, no.

  First he took Keegan. Next he’d take Elora. The dark faeries would take Kylie. Then they’d come for me.

  Together, we’d fall.

  “Not this time,” I told Naeve, though he couldn’t hear me. “You can’t have them,” I told the earth, which was soaking up the blood so quickly. Lapping it up like sustenance, like we were just nutrients, not bodies and hearts.

  Now Kylie was screaming. Alexia was moving through the trees, but she could only move so fast.

  Just a little longer. Please.

  At the edge of the battlefield, close to where Kylie had fallen, there was movement, and I saw something golden behind the buildings. Bright faeries, I thought, but it didn’t soothe me. More faeries meant more soldiers. More soldiers meant more bodies. More blood. More broken bones.

  But I was wrong, I realized, as deer flooded the courtyard. Within seconds, they’d surrounded the circle of faeries. Surrounded Kylie. A great, spotted buck with skin as gold as it was brown slipped into the center and knelt down. I couldn’t see him. I thought he was using his body to cover Kylie. Across the grounds, Elora was curling her fingers in the air, calling on the vines that lived in the forest. They slithered toward the circle, toward the dark faeries.

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the screams to start up again.

  But here in the faerie realm, where things don’t do what you expect, the buck surprised me. Kylie surprised me.

  The deer shot up, bounding out of the circle, and on his back was the girl with the warmest eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair disheveled. Arms wrapped around the deer’s neck. Vines snaked around her lower half, lashing her to the animal. I’d never seen anyone look so fierce.

  Together, they soared over the crowd and landed on the stage beside Naeve. Beside Keegan, who was the only one in our group who couldn’t fight anymore.

  Didn’t have to.

  Couldn’t.

  I held my breath. As the deer reared up, hooves curling in the air, Naeve dove for the dagger that had stolen Keegan’s breath. In an instant, he could fling that blade into Kylie’s chest. In an instant, the deer could trample him.

  I heard a voice at my back. “Shall we finish what we’ve started? Together?”

  “It’s going to have to be,” I said, gesturing to my leg. The Princess of the Dark Faeries wrapped her arm around my waist, and together, we made our way to Kylie.

  To Naeve.

  To the end.

  40

  ElorA

  On the morning of the seventeenth, I held a meeting with mercy and asked her how to live with what had transpired. And unlike death, who took but never gave, she offered to play a game. A game of numbers.

  How many? she asked. How many will live? How many will die?

  I pulled Taylor onto the stage. I could hear bone grinding against bone, but I would not tell him to rest this time. That choice was not mine. So instead, I lifted him onto the final battlefield just as Alexia climbed up the back of the stage, rising behind Naeve.

  Four humans, I counted, my heart thundering wildly. Three living, one dead. Two faeries. One dagger. Two swords.

  Naeve spun around, nearly catching Alexia in the chin. But she was ready for him, and she ducked, causing him to spin. Just when his back was turned to her, she kicked, sending him flying. Unfortunately, he sailed past Keegan’s body, landing next to one of the swords.

  I knelt down, lifting the other. “Al
exia,” I called, holding it out to her. But Alexia had other plans. Crouching down, she scooped Naeve’s fallen crown from the stage. Then she dove, scraping the iron spikes across his chest.

  “Yes. Get him!” Kylie yelled as Naeve howled, hitting the ground. Reaching over his body, Alexia grabbed his sword and jumped to her feet. She lifted her sword and I lifted mine.

  No, no, no, mercy said. You are now in the service of death.

  I froze, ready to cut off Naeve’s head. Alexia looked ready to cut out his heart. But as Taylor inhaled beside me, I wondered if I could murder a person in front of him. I wondered how Kylie would feel when her fury bled into sadness.

  I pushed the sword into Taylor’s hand. “This is your moment,” I whispered. “Use it wisely.”

  “Alexia,” Kylie called from up above. “Toss me the sword.”

  Alexia turned, staring at her. Naeve was clambering to his feet. Blood dripped from his chest, but he was healing quickly. Alexia’s blow would not be the thing to kill him. As for Kylie’s …

  “Trust me.” Kylie reached out her hand.

  “I do,” Alexia mouthed, and let go of the sword. No, she tossed it, perfectly, into Kylie’s hand. All of her strength and grace were visible in that arc. All of her calculations that, in the end, she relinquished.

  We both did.

  “It’s all you, baby,” she said, as Naeve pulled back his hand. The dagger glinted in the mid-morning light.

  Taylor leapt in front of me, lifting his sword.

  41

  TayloR

  I dove across the stage, bringing down my sword. Kylie brought down hers. Naeve howled and fell to his knees. But he couldn’t cover his face with his hands, not anymore. Kylie had taken them.

  And I’d taken his wings.

  The hands fell quickly, tumbling to the ground like I did, but the wings, well, they wanted to put on a show. Fluttering quietly, they fell to the stage like leaves. Like feathers.