With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Twenty

  Speaks the soft voice of Love! "Turn, Psyche, turn!

  "And see at last, released from every fear,

  "Thy spouse, thy faithful knight, thy lover here!"

  From his celestial brow the helmet fell,

  In joy's full glow, unveiled his charms appear,

  Beaming delight and love unspeakable,

  While in one rapturous glance their mingling souls they tell.

  —Mary Tighe, Psyche; or, The Legend of Love

  I found myself standing on the ledge of a stone tower, staring down at the ground far below. It was a long drop to a thick bed of thorn bushes. The tower cast a long shadow over the cliffs that stretched out over a snow-spackled city of twinkling lights, the ice castle at its center. In the distance, the witch was throwing a party. I could hear wisps of faery music carrying through the wind and echoing up to us and the full moon above. The sound of it howled through the tower, no longer cheery, but haunting. It was a celebration in honor of my defeat.

  "What are you going to do with that apple?"

  I jerked around, watching the slow smile spread across Hobs' face. He sat on the cobblestone floor, looking only slightly surprised to see me. Besides being locked in a tower, he wasn't the worse for wear. He was barefoot in worn-out jeans and his black punk-looking shirt. His hair was messier than usual. "You have any magic beans?" he asked. "They always come in handy when you need something to climb down. Other than that, we're out of luck. The tower's indestructible. Some pigs made it."

  I was torn between hugging and slapping him. Of course, he would joke at a time like this. It didn't look good for us. Without the faery ring, there was no way to get down. Thorns curled ominously beneath the window. I didn't see stairs or a door or anything we could use for a ladder. And to add to this impossible obstacle course, an ogre marched below the tower with self-important steps.

  I threw the apple at Hobs and he caught it with surprisingly deft fingers. That only made me more annoyed with him. "Why don't you just jump?" I suggested. "That's a good way to get down."

  "Only if you promise to heal me with your tears. You would cry, right?"

  I didn't answer, watching his sober face. I wasn't prepared for honesty right now. "Maybe," I said. "I'd have to use onions, of course."

  Hobs stared at the apple in his hand. He held it carefully, probably knowing what potent poison coursed through it. "I had to save you." His voice was subdued, and his directness surprised me. "Despite what you think, I'm not my mother's servant. For all her beauty, for all her powers, she cannot love. She doesn't know what it is."

  It sounded familiar. Well, it once was, though having no feelings didn't hurt as much as this did. I leaned against the wall and pulled myself down to sit next to him on the cobbles. It felt good to be near him, but nothing eased the tension in my head. I tried to understand what he was saying. "Who sent you for me then?"

  "She did." He shrugged. "My mother awarded me a fancy medallion in some fine ceremony—ironic that it worked against her. It kept me safe from her minions. No matter how much they tried, none of them could invoke me. My mother was right, of course. I wanted you for myself. I knew it the moment I touched you." He reached for my hand, and despite his confession, I let him take it. There was something comforting about the touch of his skin on mine, not that (I told myself) it meant anything. He turned my hand over in his, his fingers tracing the delicate veins at my wrist. "The thing is . . . I'm sensitive."

  I was shocked. Besides not having a sensitive bone in his body, I didn't see the correlation. Hobs bit back a self-deriding laugh, which meant he read my expression perfectly. "I'm sensitive because I see things—just glimpses of the future, really. And I feel things, too—like when I touched you for the first time. I always knew that my mother's plans would kill us all. None of us could stop her, but I had to try. I went to the Otherworld, pretending I would take you back to her, but I was going to hunt out the Otherworldly instead, make him pay for what he did to us—all of us, Ratis, you, my mother, my father . . . my brother. You were just an excuse, but when I touched you, I knew there was hope for our world. And there was more, something I never knew, though I had searched for you so long. You belonged with me."

  The pain in my head wouldn't subside to numbness. I tried to hold still, but my thoughts were making me crazy. What had happened to his family? His mother's vengeance screamed of pain that I couldn't understand. And what Hobs said about me—was it true? Did I somehow belong with him? It made my heart race and didn't help the headache at all. I squinted under it.

  Hobs got to his knees, sliding the hair back from my face. His expression tender, he no longer held back the affection he had for me. His hands cradled my aching head. "Where is Babs?"

  "Your mother took . . ." I couldn't finish. Just knowing that Babs was somewhere in the Sidhe and I couldn't get to her was driving me crazy.

  "We could've used that kid. The way her hair grows, she'd be our way out of here."

  I blinked up at Hobs. "We'd be stuck up here for a really long time."

  "At least we'd be together."

  I groaned, knowing he was trying to figure out what my feelings were for him. I wanted to be with him, but I couldn't let myself trust him. Not like before. I dragged my head up from his capable hands—hands that seemed to have been through more than this. They were roughened from past suffering, the hands of a survivor, everything that made up him, and yet they weren't enough to help me. "Did I take Babs' place on earth?" I asked. "Is she me? Is she Halley? You need to tell me what's going on."

  "She's just a mortal who got in the way."

  "My poor little baby. Everyone used her to get to me. Why? I'm not a threat to anybody! I have no power. I can't even save her." I choked on a sob and hid my face from him with my hands. "I don't have a name."

  "You have a beautiful name."

  My hands fell to my sides. "You know it? Tell me!"

  "That's not how it works. You have to remember it." That was ridiculous, and I was sure he could see my frustration. He took a steadying breath. "Listen to me. You're ready now. No potions, no tricks. I couldn't do it before. There was a shard of ice rammed in your heart that made everything I did dangerous. I could've shattered it. And if not, if you knew too soon who you were, you'd be just like the hag—unstoppable, with no heart." He searched my face. "It was genius of my mom, really. The only way to melt the ice was to love a mortal. No faery does that. Once I realized what the curse meant, I knew how hard it was going to be to break it. Why do you think we wandered the Sidhe in meaningless circles with that poor kid?"

  "You didn't? All that time wasted . . . on me?"

  "You needed to learn how to love. Truly love."

  "And you? Why did you come along?"

  "I was going in the second the ice melted. We're connected, like it or not. The hag did everything she could to keep your heart frozen so no one could touch it, so I couldn't touch it. That's why I had to wait until you were ready. You see, there is only one way for you to know your name—you have to fall in love with a faery."

  I stared at him. Did he know how I felt about him? I liked him. A lot. But, he could hurt me so easily. I was so inexperienced—I couldn't control my feelings. The fact that my heart could've easily shattered days ago meant none of this was very safe.

  Hobs touched my hand. "We have too many memories to give up on each other."

  "Memories?"

  A single eyebrow went up and I saw a hint of his familiar smile. "I suppose they haven't happened yet, but don't worry, Leannan Sith. I remember them. I see things."

  Leannan Sith? It meant "faery sweetheart." My lips lifted . . . even as the tiara reminded me. Don't fall in love with a faery . . . but if you are one? If he was my Prince Charming, then everything could be fixed with a kiss. Already he knelt before me. Sure, I was doubled over with a raging headache. His forehead furrowed in concern. His was a face I had learned to care for. Now, he implored me with his eyes. Coul
dn't I just let go for once? Trust him? It was only one kiss, after all. I leaned forward and gave him a light peck on the lips.

  He grinned. "Why did you do that?"

  I felt my face go red. "I thought," I stuttered. "You're not my Prince Charming?"

  "Just your consort."

  "What's that?"

  "Your Prince Charming, but I have to kiss you for this to work."

  My breath caught in my throat. That meant I really had to trust him. Give him the power. If the shard in my heart wasn't melted properly, if his intentions weren't good, if my curse wasn't even close to being broken, Hobs could shatter my heart in an instant. Kisses were deadly here. It thumped loudly as I stared into his dark eyes and I took a chance. I closed my eyes and waited.

  His hand slid over my chin and he leaned over to kiss me, just a brush of the lips really; and yet with that light touch, a spurt of awakening thoughts and emotions surged through me and I felt a burst of memory—well, a backwards memory, since according to him, it hadn't really happened yet.

  We were no longer freezing in a solitary tower, but sitting near a gurgling fountain. A blue scarf fluttered over my shoulder. Hobs played with it. I smiled at him, taking in his tunic and faded jeans. As always he took a modern twist to the faerytales. The fountain sparkled in the moonlight and I turned to stare at my reflection in the pool of water. Just like a dream, I could see the tiara on my head. The star on it twinkled over us.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

  My mother was singing my song. I could see her in the distance. Beautiful blonde hair flowing. The sky was dark with tiny lights from the stars shining above. The foliage around the courtyard swayed, lush, green, and high, a maze of color behind us. I belonged here.

  "Prosperity," Hobs whispered. There was concern in his eyes. His fingers brushed my cheek. "You're guardian of the Harvest, Lady Luck, Abundance. You are the life of the Sidhe. Without you, we are lost. I need you most of all." He rested his forehead against mine. "Habonde Dáma a wanders. I've called you Habonde always."

  "Habonde?" I closed my eyes briefly. It was a strange name, vaguely familiar. "It goes well with Hobany." I smiled. All my dreams—he was in them. He was my best friend, even though I didn't know him like that yet. This vision held the promise of what was to come. And now that I knew him, I knew myself—just a faint memory, but it was enough to realize what I was capable of doing. I wasn't some heartless villain or even a sweet princess. I was just . . . well, me. Same likes, same weaknesses, same hopes. Now that I knew, I felt silly. How could I have forgotten who I was? Princess and the Pea, Goose Girl, Thumbelina. They were all just Otherworldly euphemisms for living, breathing people in this world. People who weren't me. He kissed me again.

  I opened my eyes to see that the cold stones still held us captive in the tower, but I could only see Hobs. He watched me like he knew me, and now I understood why. We meant something to each other, the promise of what was to be. The pain in my head had subsided somewhat; it had become bearable. "Habonde?" I tested the name on my lips. "Yes, it's so . . . me, isn't it?"

  He smiled. "You and I are the only ones who know it."

  "Besides my parents . . ."

  "No." He shook his head. "Faeries don't name their babies. We're born with them. Keep your name to yourself, Habonde, for now." At my quizzical look, he explained, "It will keep you safe." I was startled and he smiled at me and laughed, and completely surprised me by picking me up and swinging me around. "Habonde! That sounds so good. I'll call you Halley to keep you safe, but when we're alone together . . ." He kissed me again. With the help of his visionary touch, it transferred us to another prospective memory in the near or distant future—I couldn't tell which.

  This time we stood in the courtyard of a vast marble castle. Dancing couples swirled around us. Gardens surrounded us with glittering lights hanging over the trees like icicles. I wore a sleek, white evening dress, my hair gathered high on my head, and two braids plaited past my shoulders. My hair was so long and heavy. Was it even real? Hobs tucked his arm around my waist. We were in the middle of a formal occasion, but he wasn't dressed for it, as usual. He was in black and white and looked like a court jester—a super hot one. He wore a mask. With a wicked look, he danced something above my head, trying to keep it from me. I could only guess that he had been teasing me—it was definitely in character. I tore away from him and we were back in the tower.

  "You jerk!" I shouted.

  "Don't get mad." He held his hands up to defend himself. "It hasn't happened yet . . . it might never happen."

  "But it did!"

  "Yeah, but for now it's just a faerytale prophecy, and not a very helpful one at that. At least now you got to see what I saw the first time I touched you." True to form, he hugged me to force out some of my temper, completely aware of the sparks flying out of me, and yet I knew that he loved every bit of me. "C'mon, we'll find a better memory."

  Before I could shove him away, we were interrupted by a scream from below. The ogre standing watch sounded absolutely terrified. Hobs rushed to the window. "I think we've been discovered. We don't have much time—only till the stroke of midnight actually." Now my mother's words made sense. She had given me a time limit. Midnight. It was always midnight. "They're still having the Midsummer Night celebrations here," he informed me, "when the moon is aligned with the heavens. That's how we tell time in the Sidhe. It's been a summer since my mother took you to the Otherworld to live with the Starrs."

  "A summer? I'm seventeen. I don't think so."

  "We're going by faery time here, you oaf." At my angry look, he hurriedly explained. "Sorry. Oaf just means you've been switched at birth with a human."

  Oh. I felt myself relax. "I see. So just enough time passed for some of us to meet the required maturity levels."

  "It's been 13,896 cloud drifts, 3,956 moon shifts, and almost seventeen Midsummer nights since we've been apart. Believe me, I felt every moment. The world came to a stop when you left, Habonde. I didn't know why until I touched you, but I searched the Otherworld endlessly for you, not even finding a shadow of you. I've spent years in the Otherworld numb with worry for you until it hurt to feel."

  I wanted to kiss him for that, but it really was important to stay in the present and figure this out, so I hugged him instead. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me in tightly. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart before we pulled apart.

  Another scream alerted us to the action below.

  I leaned over the window, not seeing a thing in the shadows. On one side, the tower was tall like a skyscraper, the Sidhe a constellation of glistening lights below. The other side? I couldn't see the ground there—it was so dark. I took a deep breath, getting vertigo when I tried to think of a way to scale down. A cluster of snowflakes melted against my face, though it gave my aching head no relief. "Shouldn't winter stop?" I asked. "I know who I am now."

  We listened to another thud in the darkness.

  Hobs pulled me back by my elbow and took my place at the window. He tried to spy it out for himself, all the while acting nonchalant as if he didn't care what was going on down there. If it was for the benefit of the vigilant guards, he shouldn't have bothered. All they would see was the leanness of his silhouette. After a moment of nothing, he turned to me. "You've got to be crowned before winter can end," he said as if working it out. "It's the only way to find your destiny."

  And then what? I had a life in the Otherworld. I didn't want to get stuck here. I had no problem with going back to help raise Babs. Maybe Hobs could go with me, but there was no way I was staying in the Sidhe permanently. I couldn't tell him that though. I could only handle one crisis at a time.

  "If my mother still rules by midnight, none of us stand a chance. You lose your powers to her as soon as she opens the portals to the Otherworld. We've got to stop that from happening or he will kill us all."

  "Wait a second. He?"

  "The Otherworldly," he confided. Ah, yes. Rumpels
tiltskin. The human. "I know who betrayed us to him."

  "Your mother."

  He gave a single nod. "It all makes sense now. It's part of some great prophecy. A mortal will come for the four treasures, and my mother must have been the one to find him, the boy who rolled up the world."

  "Rolled up the world? How do you do that?"

  "No one knows that yet." His eyes turned sober. "He'll control all of our powers, even hers. She thinks she can stop him by making a deal with him, but he'll turn on her too. If my mother would only listen . . . but she can't feel. She doesn't care."

  Not even for her own son. I didn't like that look of hopelessness on his face—except . . . wait! The hag did care about some things. Wasn't she trying to exchange me for the four treasures? Well, there was no way I was more important than the treasures, and the Otherworldly would know that. No! Neither of them planned on sticking to their deal. Everyone else would get caught in the middle of their fight.

  My legs had grown weak, and I couldn't stop the shaking that spread from my aching head. I sat down on the hard bench that jutted out from the wall and took out the swirly toy. Babs, Halley—no, I'd just call her Babs for now—appeared on the face of it. She was a slave in the Snow Queen's quarters. They already had her polishing the ice on the castle steps to a brilliant hue. "She needs her faery godmother," I whispered.

  Hobs sighed. "They're keeping her as bait. At any rate, she'll freeze at midnight with everyone else if we don't take care of this first. Let me see that." It was the only thing I had of Babs, but I surrendered it. His eyes filled with concern when he saw the little girl, but then he shook the toy and changed the picture on it. I peered over his shoulder. The image became a haze of his mother. She was younger. A woman stood before her, an older version of the hag, and I could only assume she was her long-dead mother from another season. The ice princess closed her eyes as the woman placed a garland of holly over her dusky curls.

  I listened to the passage of time speak out to us as the woman warned her daughter of the only thing that could destroy her: "Your weakness is but one; though temptation may call, stay out of the light of the sun."

  Hobs let out a long breath. "And there you have it, her weakness. You. That's why she's turned everything to winter. Ever since the attack against our family and her banishment from the Seelie court, she grew colder and colder until nothing could penetrate her. It hurt her to feel. The cold keeps her heart properly refrigerated. She sent the sun away and deadened your powers. Now the only thing we can trust is her merciless nature."

  "Well, she did try to give me that apple."

  His mouth twisted at the irony. "That was dumb. She knows she can't defeat you unless you leave here. If you ate it . . ."

  "She wanted me to eat it on the other side, so I'd forget all about you. I know her plan. I read it in the book of faerytales. It's the Rumpelstiltskin story—that's who I am, the child he wants."

  "Instead of finding his name, we had to find yours," he said.

  "And, your mother thinks she can trade me for the four treasures. I think the Otherworldly was waiting for me on the other side to take me." He grew quiet and picked the fruit off the floor to study it.

  I leaned against the brick wall. "If I can just stay here until after midnight, I think that might do the trick."

  He shook his head, still staring at the apple. "If you stay here, you fight her . . . and if you fight her, you win. It's the cycle of the seasons. Summer always defeats winter, and you're the summer, my beautiful Habonde. The only problem is that she'd never be crazy enough to take you on."

  The tiara repeated the warning in my head, even as I blurted it out, "I can't break a promise to a faery! I can't fight her. She'll hurt Babs if I do!"

  He watched me thoughtfully, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "You've always been a rule breaker."

  "But you told me not to . . ."

  "If you break the rules, you become one of us. Join in our revelries, go to our balls . . . eat our food."

  That didn't sound like a good plan to me. I didn't want to be one of them. I wanted to go home. Be with my family. Now that I had a heart, we could be a real one. I listened to the tolling of the bells outside. Eleven o'clock. Only one hour until the stroke of midnight. My eyes went to the apple. "Anyway, it's poisoned."

  "Perfect. The only way they'll let you through those snowcapped doors of the palace is if you're dead."

  I gasped.

  A pinecone sailed through the window and bounced off Hobs' head. I hoped it would leave a welt after what he’d just said. He rushed to the window. Another pinecone hit him straight in the face, and he hissed in pain. "Hey!" he shouted below. "C'mon! You're not still mad, are you?"

  "Who?" I pushed Hobs aside, trying to see through the night air. Bugul. I recognized that massive bulk anywhere. Only he could've taken out our guards. He was just a shadow below us, which was a little easier on the eyes. He pumped his fist. "What's he trying to say?" I asked.

  Hobs squinted into the darkness. "He wants to tell us something." Bugul acted it out. "Nymphs took you prisoner?" Hobs called out. Bugul waves his arms more frantically. "There's a dance?"

  I elbowed Hobs hard in the ribs. "Hasn't that muting spell worn off yet?"

  "I suppose so."

  At his words, Bugul's grunt turned into a roar with the return of his voice. "Are you brain damaged, Hobany? The king has never looked kindly on your shenanigans. I'll tell you that." His voice sounded strangely cultured for a Leprechaun wearing leather and rags. "It's about time you let me speak!"

  "Time-dependent spell?" I asked. "According to who?"

  Hobs smiled distractedly.

  "I've half a mind to turn you over my knee!" Bugul shouted. "Spoiled, thoughtless, selfish . . ."

  Hobs gave me a pleading look, but no way would I allow him to put the mute back on Bugul. "What?" I asked him. "I'd say he's got it right, don't you, after what you did to him?"

  Hobs was far from chastened; looking far too pleased, he shouted down the tower. "Sorry." Strangely, I didn't detect the sarcasm this time.

  "That's all you have to say? After ditching me I don't know how many times . . . and leaving me to face that lovesick . . . thing? I'd rather you turned me into a frog!"

  "Don't even think about it," I warned Hobs in an undertone.

  "I would never!" Hobs sputtered, clearly for Bugul's ears since he had ulterior motives to get us out of here.

  Bugul wasn't finished with him. "Carrying around forbidden faerytales!"

  My eyes shot to Hobs. "Forbidden what?"

  He shook his head. "Another silly rule no one follows—one designed specifically for faeries actually, not for mortals. The Twelve in the high courts wouldn't like that we have a copy, but what they don't know . . ."

  "They're higher than your mother?" I asked. "The Twelve?"

  "Well, yeah. They're different, like judges."

  "Why haven't they stopped her?"

  "How can they?" Hobs looked genuinely confused. "She hasn't broken any laws."

  "You have stupid laws. You know that?"

  True to form, he was delighted at the insult. "That's what I was trying to say. So you shouldn't care when we break them." He turned back to Bugul, dipping his head out into the darkness. "Now if you could get us down from here."

  "After what you've done? I've half a mind to let you rot." But Bugul was already dragging supplies out of an oversized bag for our great escape. "I have my orders, ones I plan to keep this time. Your mother's gone too far. Besides, I've a soft spot for the little princess. She's not half as obnoxious as you . . ." The rest of his words were lost in grumbles.

  Hobs pulled away from the window. "Now you see why I put the spell on him? He won't shut up."

  "Ratis!" Bugul shouted up at us.

  Hobs pushed his head back out. "Nope, we're the only ones up here, Bugul. Have you gone crazy?"

  "No, you fool! Her hair!"

  The crinkles around Hobs' eyes grew more
pronounced. "What are you talking about?"

  "It's up there, in the walls. Oh, I don't have time for this, you blackguard! Just listen. The woman gave me the code. Tap the wall three times next to the mirror; it'll open up after you say her name. If I remember correctly, the code will be . . ."

  "I know it," Hobs interrupted. He strolled to the wall next to the spiraled staircase leading to an attic. "Of course the little minx would leave an escape hatch for us."

  I followed him. "She didn't use it for herself?"

  "Besides keeping her in, the tower kept things out . . ."

  "The Otherworldly?"

  He nodded and felt around the wall, his fingers sliding over the rough stone. As soon as he found the catch, he knocked once. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he chanted the spell. He knocked again. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." After a moment, he knocked a third time. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." A stone in the wall dropped, and I peered into the gaping hole it left behind. A thin strand of golden hair dripped over the opening's makeshift tongue. Words were etched into the cavernous hollow behind it:

  "Three days. Leannan Sith. Your fates are sewn; by hour of sunset you shall be known.

  Fae, protector and protected of earth, your rule shall die in glorious birth.

  Blood of Fomorian, mortal, and Fae; fulfills, breaks curses, the prophecies sway."

  I turned to Hobs after reading it. "What does that mean?"

  His fingers slid gently down the hair as he considered the words. "A spell of sorts? It sounds like something from the Norn."

  The Norn? They were the three crones who changed to three gorgeous cover girls in front of my eyes. They had blessed Babs in my home with a similar-sounding spell. Why had their words followed Ratis here?

  Hobs reached up to touch the engraving. "This was meant for us."

  Before I could ask what he meant, Bugul shouted for us to hurry. Hobs sighed, grabbing for the hair this time. It didn't look strong enough or long enough to do much of anything. I studied it nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

  "Some Fae keep their power in their hair. That's what Ratis did. She had the most beautiful golden hair—her power radiated inside each strand. It was as strong as she was honorable." He tugged on it and it met little resistance. "See?" he said. "She was innocent of her crimes." The hair grew longer and stronger as he pulled more of it from the hole in the wall. It twisted over itself, coiling against the hard floor like a golden snake. "Her hair mirrors the strength of her word, the power of her truth."

  My eyes slanted. That was quite the praise. Hobs liked Ratis. A lot. What had been going on between them anyway? "She never lied?" I asked doubtfully. We'd be putting our lives in Ratis' hands—staking everything on her innocence, and Hobs seemed too blinded by her virtues to see that Ratis might not be everything he thought. "Are you sure she was framed?"

  Hobs tilted his chin stubbornly. "We know who took the treasures from us, and it wasn't Ratis." He wrapped the golden hair around his arm, judging the distance from us to the ground with a quick glance. "You ready to do some rappelling?"

  "Uh. You're not really going to climb down on that stuff?"

  "With you on my back. Just hold tightly to me."

  I nearly fell over at the idea. Hobs gave me a reassuring look. "You trust me, right? Ratis' word is gold. She's the most upstanding faery princess I know."

  Ouch. I was upstanding. I sighed. Okay, I trusted Hobs, but I didn't know Ratis. She seemed way too good to be true, and he seemed way too blind.

  "Hurry up, or I'll take a torch to the tower and smoke you out of there!"

  Bugul. I took a deep breath and watched Hobs fashion a harness for us out of the hair. He was practiced in the art of escaping tall towers. I wondered how many times he had to scale a sheer wall to avoid the trouble he had made . . . or how many times he had come to visit Ratis. His quick fingers on her hair told me there had been plenty of times. He looped the hair to the leg of the bed. A fierce tug reassured me it wasn't going anywhere.

  "Hobs?"

  He gave me one of his firm smiles and I knew there would be no talking sense into him. He stuffed the swirly toy into the waist of his jeans. "C'mon." He caught my hand and pulled me to the ledge.

  "Hey Hobs, you're not scared are you?" Bugul called up encouragingly.

  Hobs scooped up the apple from the bench and chucked it down at him. Bugul's silhouette moved deftly out of the way. "Give us a second!" Hobs shouted into the darkness. He turned to me. "Okay, this is way easier than it looks. If an old witch can do it, you can."

  "And who was that? There weren't any old witches! Just a framed girl who died stuck in a tower. No stolen vegetable to keep her pregnant mother alive, nothing."

  "You're right, no rapunzel—not when she needed it. There was only one way to keep her mother alive, and it wasn't a vegetable—and still, Ratis wouldn't make a deal with the Otherworldly to get it. She was too honorable. You can trust the hair." I listened to his voice; it was better than concentrating on the drop below us. "Put your heel into this knot," he told me. "And put your arms around my neck." My legs couldn't hold still and I held onto him tightly. He grinned and I tried to ignore that he was enjoying himself. He jerked on the golden hair, keeping one side taut. The other he would use to lower us down. I closed my eyes, feeling him ease us from the ledge. I squeezed him tighter.

  "Hey, gotta breathe here."

  I tried to loosen my grip on him, but couldn't. My hands felt sweaty and I wiped one off the back of his shirt as my revenge. "Hobs? Can her hair really hold more than one person?"

  "It's really strong."

  "If we die . . ."

  I felt him brace himself before pushing us off the ledge. A moan tore from my lips. Hobs tried to calm me down with a stern look. "Ratis could've had everything if she worked with the Otherworldly." So, he was opting for a distraction? I'd take it and pretend we weren't hanging so far off the ground. "Well, she wouldn't have had everything," he said, "—not the treasures—but close enough. She denied the Otherworldly and tried to save us all, and this was how we repaid her. She stood before the Twelve in the court and pleaded innocent. They refused to believe her."

  I felt the ripping before I heard it. Ratis' hair was ripping! I gasped. Her hair was splitting at the ledge, shredding like dry spaghetti noodles.

  I screamed. "Oh, no! I was right!"

  Hobs' arms tightened convulsively around me. I only had a moment to look down at the ground before we fell. There were bushes spread out beneath us. They'd be full of thorns and would scratch our eyes out if I could believe the rumors. And since it was the worst case scenario, I believed them. Ratis' hair fell over us, silky and smooth. It was nothing like mine. It was suffocating as we plummeted at least a story down. We landed into the soft stuff. I let out a smothered ooph. Hobs collided into me, his arms still around me.

  "Can't you do anything quietly?" Bugul was on us in an instant, shaking the apple in our faces. "I'm trying to make a clean escape here and you bungle the whole thing!"

  It was a good sign that I could still hear him. I could feel my arms and next my legs, and they didn't hurt—that meant we were alive. I fought through the hair, feeling Hobs' hand on my back. He pushed me through the golden cascade, and it parted like a waterfall to let me out. It had broken our fall. As soon as I was free of the nasty stuff, I turned on him, my breath coming out in gasps. My body wouldn't stop shaking. "Innocent?" I asked. "You still think she's innocent?"

  He looked confused; so was I. We didn't die.

  Bugul pulled golden hair out of my dark hair, all the while lecturing Hobs. "I should've come for you myself."

  "Oh, c'mon," Hobs said, "you weigh at least five stone more than me."

  I rubbed my head and retrieved Babs' toy from the hair where Hobs had dropped it. Of course my thoughts were on her, and she came up through the mirror. I stared at my baby, and whimpered when I saw the tears on her cheeks. After everything that had happened, it made m
e cry too. I couldn't control myself. I choked back my sobs and turned to stare at the apple in Bugul's waving fist. If I ate it, I'd become one of them. Maybe even worse, I could die. And if I survived, I would never be able to leave this place.

  "Oh, Leannan Sith." Hobs looked worried when he saw me. He dropped his argument with Bugul and caught me to him, instead. "You're crying? You can cry?"

  "Okay, I'll do it!" It came out muffled against his shoulder. "Just one bite won't hurt."

  Hobs' eyes followed mine to the apple. He ran his hand through my hair, but his words were less than reassuring. "I'm afraid it's going to take a little more than that. You're going to have to die."