“Did Mr. Disney visit the Never?”
“Of course not. We welcome human children, but human adults? Ugh.” She frowned.
“Could he have visited as a boy?”
“No. Once they come, they’re ours. We don’t send them back, especially since they never want to leave without a piece of the Never.” She brightened. “And there’s no place for them out there anyway. We leave a changeling in their place that grows up. Their parents grow old and die. Humans die so fast, I’m told! It’s shocking. Lucky, lucky are the children who get to live here with us.”
Oh, sure, lucky! I thought furiously. Stolen from parents who love them more than anything. Brought to live with the faeries, who were ruled by a jealous queen who forced a young girl to be an orphan and an assassin. Kidnapped children living underhill, so lucky!
Roseblade leaned near a round grate at eye level next to the door. She spoke softly into the grate, saying, “Roseblade, queen’s first maiden. And Kismet, queen’s first assassin.” She said the last triumphantly.
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
A lively tune played. And then a darker-edged one. After the music, the door latch clicked, and Roseblade depressed the handle. The door swung open and the light flashed over a carved pattern in the door that I hadn’t initially noticed. It was the sunburst pattern from the front of Lenore’s locket and the elevator door from WAM headquarters.
I stared at the door. “That pattern,” I said, pointing at the front door. “What does it mean?”
“It’s sunlight. This is the original door.”
“The original door?”
“Yes, from the first fae castle. Anytime there is a new castle built, the door is moved to it. For tradition’s sake.”
“Is there a diamond pattern on the back door?”
“A triangle with an added nasty spike on the bottom,” she said, pursing her lips. “Yes, the original magical triangle.”
“What is that? The original triangle? And why is the bottom point bad?” I asked.
“Never mind,” she hissed in a whisper. A falsely cheerful smile spread over her face. “We’re inside the castle now. Smile.”
“Um, actually my face only smiles when it feels like smiling,” I said, which wasn’t completely true, but I didn’t like being ordered to fake a grin.
The inside of the castle was so opulent and dazzling it left a person half-blind. White light poured in through cut-glass windows. Crystals studded the walls in mosaic patterns trimmed in yellow and rose gold. Rails and grates of gold and silver were so polished that reflections of light bounced off every twist of metal. I blinked. Several times.
“This way. She’ll receive us in the great hall. If she’s really pleased, she’ll ask us to stay and accompany her upstairs.” Roseblade clapped her small hands together, clearly excited and hopeful.
We passed through a double golden archway, and I thought of McDonald’s, which made me chuckle. Had the human side of the world actually taken inspiration from the land of faeries, as Osmet and Roseblade claimed? Nah, I thought. It was just a coincidence.
The great hall looked like a giant room in an English castle. There were fancy couches and chairs, parquet wood floors, and oak-paneled walls covered with enormous paintings. The room had to be ten thousand square feet.
A ballroom and then some, I thought.
I walked to the closest couch, which was pink with white legs trimmed in—what else?—gold, of course.
“I lost her, but I have reason to think she’ll return,” a man’s voice said.
“Yes, I have reason to believe that as well,” a woman said.
I spun toward their voices, startled to have heard them. When we walked in I’d thought the room was empty, but in a corner, standing in front of a painting, were three figures: A tall woman with cascades of white-blond waves and a voluptuous figure that could’ve landed her in a Playboy centerfold if she’d been willing. The faery knight Crux. And, in his faded Levi’s and orange-and-white Longhorns T-shirt, Zach.
I stared at the three of them. How had Zach ended up here? He didn’t seem to be under arrest, so had he come on his own? And why?
And what about Crux? Had he told the queen about our trapping him in a circle in my kitchen? Were Bryn and I in danger of being arrested?
“My lady Highness, hello!” Roseblade said, her voice projecting across the room like an actor’s onstage. She made an elaborate curtsy and bobbed up, her rose-shaped hair swaying.
The queen turned, and she was every bit as pretty as a porcelain figurine. She had creamy white skin with rose-colored cheeks, golden-brown eyes, and pink lips. She wore a pistachio-colored gown that floated around her curves. She was tall—nearly six feet, I’d have guessed.
“Yes, I have every reason to believe that Kismet will return as well,” she murmured slyly to Crux. Then she looked at me. “Your hair is very dark, Kismet. I hope you’ve come back in time for it to return all the way to its natural shade.”
I touched a lock of my red hair. Could she really not tell I wasn’t Kismet?
I glanced at Crux, who leaned casually against the wall between two paintings. One of them seemed to depict a fight between vampires and faery knights. The other showed a dead woman, possibly a witch, dressed in a black lace dress. A blade impaled her chest, and a knight—Crux, I realized—stood over the fallen woman. Her lips were bloodred, like the circle of blood around the dagger. I shivered. Yeah, the faery artwork was just as gruesome as a lot of human paintings of war and executions. They were pretty, if you could get past the violence. Which I couldn’t. I liked water lilies and sunflowers. The Impressionists, Bryn said.
He had nice art in his house. Seaside landscapes, green hills, rainy streets, and starlit skies. There weren’t any dead bodies in his paintings. Thank goodness.
“Hello,” Crux said. “It’s good to see you again.”
My eyes widened, but I quickly looked away.
The queen laughed. “She’s still angry with you. Are you still angry with me, too, deadly girl?”
“I brought you pastries,” I said, gesturing to the sack I’d fashioned from the tablecloth.
“A different sort of gift. No book? Still, it’s generous of you, Kismet. And you’re such a fine mimic. You’ve taken an accent and are still using it? Is that to entertain me?”
“Not exactly, but if it does, I’m okay with that.”
“Your friend wanted to hear our stories,” Ghislaine said, motioning to the pictures. “And he told me a story for each that I told him. We’ve only begun, but he’s a very good storyteller.” She glanced at Zach. “And very golden.” She said golden like someone human might say gorgeous or handsome.
I frowned. The last thing we needed was for the Seelie queen to develop a crush on Zach.
“He says he’s been inside the headquarters of the witches. You’ll want to listen to him tell of that. You may go there one day on a mission. It could be where the second is kept.”
“Second what?” Roseblade asked, which was exactly what I wondered.
“Not your business, flower maiden, but I’m pleased with you for keeping Kismet company on her walk to the castle. A friendship between you, that’s new . . . or rather a return to the old. Yes, I’m pleased. We want her to feel at home in her homeland.”
“Let’s lay out the food. Is MagpieMeadow at the clearing?” Roseblade asked.
“I am in the castle. So Mags is in the castle,” the queen said.
“Of course.”
“You may call for tea if you wish it,” the queen added in a more generous tone.
“There’s something you should know, my lady,” Roseblade said. “Kismet’s lost her memory.”
“What?” the queen said, her perfect brows drawing together. “Is this true?”
I shrugged.
“Do you
have your memories or not?” Ghislaine demanded impatiently.
“I don’t remember this place. It’s like it’s my first time underhill ever.” I shrugged again. “I don’t remember you.”
“How could this have happened?” Ghislaine’s eyes turned to Zach. “Are you aware of how my assassin became bespelled?”
Zach shook his head.
“Crux, what do you know of Kismet having amnesia?”
“I know nothing of Kismet having amnesia.”
“If she was spelled by witches or another humanside caster, the spell would’ve fallen away when she entered the Never.”
“I thought the same thing, my lady,” Roseblade said quickly, clearly anxious to chime in before anyone else. She didn’t need to worry—nobody except her wanted to talk anyway.
“And, Roseblade? Have you any theory about it?”
“Well, there have been rumors that she’s the natural daughter of—”
“Quiet!” the queen commanded.
Roseblade’s mouth snapped shut.
“Crux, take Zachary to the silver hall. Ask Mags to show him the art there. Call Colis and Caedrin to the castle. I want them here as quick as legs can carry them.”
Crux inclined his head and strode out with Zach.
“Now, First Maiden, approach and tell me your theory.”
Roseblade, pale and hesitant, walked stiffly to the queen and whispered.
“No,” the queen said, not in a whisper. “Unlikely.” She shook her head, looking at me thoughtfully. “Improbable.” The queen’s long fingers gestured to the door.
“What’s your preference, my lady Highness? Shall I remain in the castle? Or return to the festival?” Roseblade asked.
“I have no preference. Do what pleases you. But don’t come upstairs. And don’t gather gossip from my halls.”
“I believe I’ll return to the festival. I brought you a gift,” Roseblade said, holding up the small box.
The queen didn’t reach for it. She ignored Roseblade, continuing to stare at me.
Roseblade’s gaze followed the queen’s, and all the triumph and excitement from earlier was gone. Pure venom lit her eyes, and her fingers twitched as though she’d like to sink those thorn nails into me. I sighed. It didn’t look like we’d be throwing grand parties together after all.
“You’ve been cross with everyone, Kis. You don’t recall that?” the queen asked. She glided across the floor. Did she have roller skates on under her gown? I looked down, but couldn’t see her footwear.
She stopped a couple feet from me and studied my face. “You’re transformed in more ways than one. Those eyes are more fae. They suit you.”
Obviously Crux hadn’t told her Kismet had a twin. Why not?
“Come upstairs,” Ghislaine said.
An invitation upstairs was supposed to be a good thing, according to Roseblade, but despite the Never’s summer weather and the lightness of Ghislaine’s coloring, she and her castle seemed cold to me. I had the urge to bolt out, dragging Zach with me. I wanted to find everyone I loved and flee the Never as soon as possible.
Instead, I followed the beautiful Seelie queen up her long stairwell and down what felt like endless hallways until we reached an unusual room that we could see into from the hall. The room reminded me of an opulent jail cell; there was a lattice of metalwork that made up the front wall and doors. The queen pulled a lever. Exposed bronze gears turned, sliding the doors into pockets. Sitting in the far corner, looking out a barred window, was a woman. Her dark red ponytail sat high on her head.
That had better not be . . .
Her clothes were odd, some sort of costume. The black back had tiny stripes of white, and the front was solid white. She turned her head and of course it was. Sitting in the fancy cell of the fancy castle of the fancy fae queen was my very own momma. Not only had her memory been stolen, but she was being kept caged.
If we’d been standing at the top of that long stairwell, I would’ve given the Seelie queen a shove and pushed her right down it.
23
THE QUEEN WATCHED us carefully. When Momma spotted me, recognition flashed in her eyes, followed by confusion and concern.
I couldn’t move, because I didn’t know what to do or say. I wanted to hug her and shout for joy that we were reunited. But I was also furious that anyone was keeping her prisoner. Why hadn’t Caedrin said so?
Only a few seconds passed before she took a single step forward and spoke.
“Hi. For a moment I thought you were my sister, Melanie.” Momma touched her hair. “It’s the red. Yours is almost the same color.” She smiled and walked to the doorway. She extended a hand to me. “I’m Marlee.”
My throat tightened. I was a stranger to her. I don’t know how to describe how sad it made me feel. It turns out that of all the things a momma does, recognizing and being excited to see her child is the most important thing of all.
In that moment I understood the depth of the queen’s punishment. Momma knew Caedrin, but not the way she once had. She no longer knew how close they’d become. The loss of memory . . . was there anything more terrible?
“Hey, there,” I managed to say. I took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s real nice to meet you.” I didn’t let go of her hand. I told myself to, but what I really wanted to do was tell her who I was. I looked at the queen. “What’s she doing in a room with a wall and doors made of bars?”
“Isn’t it pretty?” the queen said.
“It looks like a cage.”
“Yes, doesn’t it? Like a lovely gilded cage. And isn’t she a pretty bird?”
I glanced at Momma and realized what the costume was. She was a woodpecker. I scowled.
“Come out of there, Mo-arlee.” I tugged on Momma’s hand. “People don’t belong in birdcages. Neither do birds, for that matter. I think birds ought to be able to fly around the world, if that’s what they want to do. Not get stuck in a cell like a common criminal. Everybody should be free. Except for common criminals. And uncommon ones.”
I pulled her through the opening, but she withdrew her hand and stepped back.
“I have letters to write,” Momma said, nodding toward a desk that was made of blown glass. It was swirly and beautiful, like everything in the infernal castle.
“Oh, yeah? Well, come on out of there. I bet we can find a lot of other pretty desks and tables for you to write at.”
“So obsessed with being able to come and go,” the queen said. “Even without your memory.” She shook her head at me, then looked at Marlee. “Kismet likes to roam. The thing she can’t stand is to be enclosed in small spaces. Crux and I suspect that her need to wander comes from having found she can enter and leave most places, even the Never, at will.” The queen glanced at the window of Momma’s cell.
“I’d never put you in a bird costume, Kismet. It would be too cruel a reminder that you can’t fly.” To Momma she said, “Kismet’s magic is crude and flawed. But she has a rare and valuable skill. My knights spent a lot of time training her to make great use of it. She doesn’t remember that now. Or even when she has her memory. Her recollection is always somewhat selective.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Sometimes a person gets training in one thing, but then changes her mind and decides to pursue a different career. That’s the way people are.”
The queen’s lovely eyes narrowed.
“Now, where is there another nice desk or table for Marlee to write her letters?” I asked.
“It pleases me to have her in that room. And she doesn’t mind. Do you, dear heart?”
“No,” Marlee said with a shrug, but the smile that played on her lips was one I recognized. It was the one she used when she was just being polite. I studied her face and saw the smallest hint of defiance flash in her clear green eyes. My lips curved. My momma was still in there.
I was su
rprised she didn’t speak up and contradict the queen. Aunt Mel tried to please people, but when things weren’t right or fair, Momma got fed up pretty quickly and she let people know. I supposed things were different when a person lost her memories.
My hands balled into fists. It took a lot of will for me to unclench them and let them hang limp at my sides.
“The room’s very comfortable,” the queen said. “Join her in there for a bit of time and see. You seem to be sharing so much these days.”
I looked at the queen blankly.
“Your memory, dear heart. Marlee has had some problems with her memory as well. Roseblade thought that perhaps her affliction had somehow affected you. But it’s not likely. I would say it’s not possible, but impossible isn’t something that applies here. Impossible fails to hold its ground against magic. Or against the will of a queen.”
“Determination does work wonders,” I said.
“If you’re too fearful to go in,” the queen said, making it a question and a challenge, “we can retire to the dressing room.”
I had no intention of going anywhere without Momma, but getting locked in a room was exactly counter to my plans. I intended to get her and everyone I loved out of the Never as quickly as possible.
“Why don’t we all—”
“No,” the queen said, pulling the control for the door. It started to close.
I darted through the opening, my shirt catching between the gatelike metal doors. The fabric ripped as I wrenched it free.
The queen smiled. “I shall have to get you a costume, too.”
“That’s real sweet of you, but I pick out my own clothes.”
“You’ll wear a costume if it pleases me to see you wear one.”
The cool steel in her voice stiffened my spine.
I will knock your block off, Your Highness, I thought furiously.
“Is that some kind of crazy law in here? That you get to tell people what to wear?”
Her smile faltered. “Don’t be contrary. This is the way you always get yourself into trouble.” The queen cleared her throat. “Because of your memory loss, you forgot to bow when we met. Of course, you forgot to ask permission before you left the Never the last time, even with your memory still intact. You seem to forget your place whether you’re cursed or not. That’s especially offensive in a Halfling. Despite being bespelled with memory loss, Witch Marlee has been exceptionally compliant. Learn from her example.”
Casually Cursed Page 20
