'I've always wanted to see it. I always wanted to be a traveler, bouncing between the worlds like that.'
I think of Ben, my dizzy nausea receding suddenly. I should have thought of this so much earlier. 'Did you ferry Ben across? Benedict Le Fay,'I clarify.
'No, he didn't come by Green Line train.'Safford's eyes are hooded and dark, and the tone of his voice matches them.
Bad topic, I think. Never mind. 'Lovely day,'I say like an idiot.
Safford looks at me and smiles sadly.
I swallow thickly and think that this might be the last normal conversation I have for a while, so I should maybe make the most of it. 'So you'll take me right to Tir na nOg?'
'Yes,'he responds. 'When we land, we'll be at the fortress where the Court receives its guests.'
'And the prison?'
'And the prison. And then, beyond that, is the Isle of Apples.'
'And what's that?'
'Oh, no one knows that. No one but the Seelies themselves.'
'Well, it sounds like an island of apple orchards,'I suggest feebly.
'Do you think so?'muses Safford. 'Huh.'
He does not look as if he is teasing me. I wonder if the words isle and apples mean something different in the Otherworld or if it's just that nothing makes much sense here.
The balloon lands gently on a patch of dead grass. In front of me, rising up to the sky, is an impossibly huge expanse of cliff face with regular windows carved into it. It is the least
welcoming thing I have ever seen. And everything is utterly silent and lifeless. Nothing moves.
Safford breaks the silence, making me jump. 'Here we are,'he announces needlessly. 'And now, your name, if you please.'
I look at him, feeling vaguely panicked by the idea. I have already internalized the Otherworld idea that my name should be a precious secret.
'It's required,'he informs me, not unkindly.
'Selkie,'I say.
He shakes his head. 'Not enough.'
'Selkie Stewart,'I respond.
He smiles at me almost pityingly. 'You can try to hide your full name. You'll never succeed. They'll pull it out of you. Anyway.'He clears his throat and raises his voice. 'Selkie Stewart,'he shouts to the cliff face, and it echoes back at us, up and down the canyon.
Nothing happens. I push my hands into my pocket and try not to shiver uncontrollably.
'That's it then. It was truly an honor to meet you.'
I look at the cliff face for a moment longer.
'You've got to get out of the basket now,'he prompts me. 'There isn't any going back, you know.'
'Oh.'I hadn't even realized I was still in the basket. I scramble my way out of it, trying to look dignified while I do it.
'See you,'Safford says to me. 'Maybe. I hope.'He looks
like he's about to say more, then seems to change his mind with a brisk little shake of his head.
The hot air balloon lifts up. I watch it dip and bob its way into the air over the canyon, and I wonder where it's going, and then there is a noise behind me, bolts being thrown, locks being unlocked.
I turn back to the cliff face, realizing that the bottom of it contains a pair of enormous doors. They are carved directly into the rock, and they swing open to reveal an entourage of strangely shaped creatures: some are tall, some are short, some are round, some are long, some walk on two legs, and some walk on four legs, but they are all covered in so much gleaming copper armor that I cannot even begin to guess at what they might be under all of that. Each of them has small, chiming bells lining its armor'they chime with every step they take.
Then the entourage parts, forming two lines. They all regard me, a few of them snuffling and snorting and some pawing the ground. I wonder what I am supposed to do and venture a step forward. Nobody makes a move to stop me, so I assume that this is permitted. I keep walking, gaining speed and confidence with each step. Nothing, so far, is happening. I realize at that moment that I expected Seelies to descend upon me immediately, furiously attempting to kill me. Or hug me. Or something, at least. Anything.
The rock doors slam shut behind me, not even waiting for my entourage to follow me in. It is very dark with them
closed, and I can feel some dust tumble from the ceiling at the force of their slamming. I wonder if this cliff face structure is safe. Of all the things to worry about, I am worried that an enchanted prison might collapse in on me.
I move forward hesitantly, hands out in front of me so that I don't bump into anything. It is terrifying not to be able to see. I could encounter anything. Anything could encounter me. I feel a panic rising within me, and I fight it down. It takes me six steps'I am counting, in case I need to find my way to the doors again quickly, although I doubt they will open for me'and then I cross a threshold I cannot see, and there is bright, fierce sunshine. I have never thought sunshine could be angry before, but this sunshine is.
I am in something that could be either a garden or a great hall. The floor beneath my feet is marble, but lush plants seem to be sprouting from it. There are gilded walls, but there is no ceiling, instead just the furious sunshine, so bright that the sky is washed white with it and I can barely keep my eyes open. There are fountains, water splashing through them, catching the light, reflecting it in such a way that it is painful to look in their direction.
I want to stop to get my bearings, but I feel I am being watched, so I keep moving instead, with the idea in my head that it is important to convey an aura of confidence. I continue to walk, my sneakers squeaking against the marble. The huge green leaves of the plants on either side of me brush against my face, tickling my cheeks.
I am slowly growing used to the brightness of the light, enough so that I can tell that I am approaching the end of the garden room, whatever it is. A large number of things shaped like people are waiting there, all of them looking at me. They grow more distinct as I reach them. They are taller than regular humans, slender and lithe, with a grace that strikes me as lethal. If you encountered them, you might call them beautiful'just before they slit your throat. Their coloring is so washed-out as to be practically nonexistent. They look so pale they could be dead, their eyes seem disconcertingly colorless, and their hair is white, bright, gleaming. I draw to a slow halt in front of them.
'So,'says one of them coldly. This particular one is a woman, and she is dressed in a green that matches the plants of the garden room. Her white hair is tightly pulled back except for a few ringlets that are intricately arranged around the delicate gold circle sitting atop her head. 'The fay of the autumnal equinox comes to the Seelie Court. Welcome, Selkie Stewart,'she hisses at me.
I am unprepared for how that feels. It is almost like someone has reached out and punched me in the stomach. I try not to let it show, but it is a huge effort not to double over with the sudden, breath-stealing pain of it. I don't know how well I conceal my reaction, but it is surely not well enough. I had hopes for a friendly welcome. This is not it.
'Now, now,'says another voice. 'Naming already. Where's the sport in that?'Another faerie is moving toward us, from
the left, and I blink through the dazed spots that the naming caused to dance in front of my eyes. This one has left her hair loose, and it floats about her like a cloud as she moves, as if she is moving through a body of water that the rest of us can't see. The golden circle on her head is a bit thicker and not quite as pretty, and her dress is a deep, dark rose color. As she moves, bells chime, and I realize that they are sewn into every crevice of her long, bell sleeves and her trailing skirt. She moves forward, directly upon me, and gazes down at me.
I can never decide what color Ben's eyes are. They are blue or green or gray or all three or none of the three, but Ben's eyes are not at all like this. This woman's eyes are completely translucent. It is as if looking into her irises will show you the back of her head. It is unsettling, but I force myself to meet her gaze.
Her mouth'pale, colorless lips'twists into a smile that is the opposite of a smi
le. And then she says sweetly, 'Selkie. Is this any way to greet your mother?'
Chapter 17
She doesn't wait for a response from me, which is a good thing because I don't know how to respond. She turns in a graceful whirl, skirt and hair flying about her and bells bouncing in a merry jingle. 'I shall take care of this,'she proclaims, and just like that, we are alone in the garden room. 'Excellent. Now.'She turns back to me. 'I imagine that you, half ogre, are not enjoying the sunlight.'
'It's fine,'I lie, but really, it is giving me the most terrible headache. But I don't like the way she said ogre. I honestly don't like any of this.
'Ah, you are a natural liar.'My mother smiles. 'Strong faerie blood in you. Stronger than most changelings. That was predicted. I should have expected it. Come. I can show you to your room.'She whirls again. She moves as if she is not moving at all, and I wonder if that's how she is moving or if the naming and sunlight have made me confused. She seems to be moving impossibly quickly. I feel like I am running just to keep up, and I cannot tell what we are passing. I am going to be hopelessly lost, I realize, which must be the point.
'My room?'I echo, trying not to sound like I'm panting for breath.
'Well, of course. What did you expect? We are extremely courteous to our guests here. In fact.'She stops abruptly, and I almost tumble right into her, catching myself at the last minute. She turns to me, and her eyes are glowing with excitement, and this makes me uneasy. 'We have a guest who I suspect you are most interested in.'
I know immediately she is referring to Ben. 'Who?'I ask breezily.
Her smile grows wider. 'Such a faerie,'she murmurs. 'I really wasn't prepared for''And then, 'Perhaps you would like to see him first? Before your room? Indeed, yes, I think so.'
Just like that, she turns again, whirling in a completely different direction this time, and I am back to running to keep up, and then she draws to another abrupt halt. We are standing in an open doorway. There is no door, no lock and key, but I realize immediately why there isn't: because there is a smallish circle of stone on which Ben is lazily lounging, and it is completely surrounded by a small moat, the water tossing about in a tempest of rapids. Ben is in the very middle of the circle of stone, and I can see why, because the outer edges of it are wet with water that has been thrown up by the current of the moat. He is still dressed in the layers he'd been wearing when we got separated, and I wonder that they have given him this protection from the water. Then again, if Will
is to be believed, the object was to keep him alive enough to
lure me in.
'Benedict,'announces my mother grandly, entering the room.
Ben flinches so minutely that, if I hadn't been watching for it, I wouldn't have noticed it. All of my hopes that I can find some way to get out of this that will leave me with a mother and Ben fall to pieces in that moment. 'Good morning,'he says in reply. 'Afternoon. Evening. Whichever it is.'He waves a hand in the air negligently, which I would imagine is the equivalent of a shrug had he been standing. He is staring fixedly up at the ceiling, looking very deep in thought about something.
'Look who I have brought, Benedict.'He flinches again. 'A visitor just for you!'
It is a moment before he reacts, turning his head slowly to look at me. Then he sighs, closes his eyes briefly, and then looks back at the ceiling.
'Oh, come now, Benedict!'Flinch. 'Is that any way to greet the creature you valued greater than your own well-being?'My mother's voice is cold as ice now.
I can see Ben's eyes close again. Then he sits up, drawing his knees up, propping an elbow on them, his chin on his fist, and regards me carefully. 'Hi,'he says to me finally.
I have no idea what to say to him. I stand there and realize that somehow, I had not been prepared for the sight of Ben trapped. Will was right: I had been thinking that I would find Ben and he would have an idea and we would get out of
this mess. Or that there wouldn't be a mess, that my mother would see me and gather me up in a surfeit of maternal affection. I sit and look at Ben, looking thinner and paler than I can ever remember seeing him before, and I wonder how much longer he has, and I realize that I am going to have to do all of this myself. I'd like to tell him not to worry, that I will figure it out, but at the moment, I can barely think straight long enough to even say hi back to him. I wonder whether I should tell him to use the power of my name like Will said, blurt the directive out to him, and get him to say it. But even if that works amazingly well and gets Ben to feel much better, what will it have truly accomplished? He would still be imprisoned by the moat. All the success might do is cause my mother to never let me see Ben again. No, I decide. I need to get a better handle on what's going on here before we use the power of my name.
'Well, go on,'my mother urges me. 'Answer him. Benedict''flinch''is an extremely reticent guest, you know. We cannot draw him out on any of the usual conversational topics.'
'It's true,'Ben tells me. 'I am appallingly ill educated on the cantos of Spenser.'
My mother laughs in delight. 'He is a wit, our Benedict''flinch''isn't he?'
'This was a trap, you know,'Ben informs me.
I shrug at him.
He crinkles his nose at me.
I am relieved to see the nose crinkle. He is okay enough to be annoyed with me. Maybe that gives me enough time to come up with a plan.
I look at the rushing water of the moat around him.
'Oh,'says my mother, clearly catching the direction of my eyes. 'It is so very deep. Not that it really needs to be; it could be the merest trickle of water, and it would deter Benedict.'Flinch. She looks at Ben, her anti-smile frozen upon her face. 'It is a drawback of yours, isn't it, my dear?'
Ben sends her an anti-smile of his own.
'Well.'My mother turns to me. 'Now you see. He is quite well. We should dress for dinner.'She looks back at Ben. 'We shall visit again later.'She pauses, relishing the moment, and I can see Ben tense, much as I know he is trying to hide it. 'Benedict Le Fay,'she says lightly, almost playfully, and I can hear it tear the breath out of him. She nods her head, pleased, and sweeps out of the room.
I do not want to delay following her; I do not want to give her the opening to say Ben's name anymore, so I scurry after her with just a glance in his direction. He is very still, his eyes closed, and it is only as I leave that I hear him take a ragged breath.
Chapter 18
The room my mother takes me to is very large. The floor is stone, but it's covered in thick, furry rugs. There are wide openings that look out over an ocean, windows without glass, and I wonder what side of the building I am on or if the view is just an enchanted view, nothing like what actually exists out the window. There is a large four-poster bed, hung with tapestries that are trimmed with tiny bells. There is also a large white armoire, intricately carved with abstract swirls, and my mother throws it open. Inside, lined up, are a number of the flowing dresses that all the female faeries seem to be dressed in, all of them covered in tiny bells.
'You will dress for dinner,'my mother informs me.
'No, I won't,'I respond. It is nice, this act of teenage rebellion. I've never gotten to be an obnoxious teenager to my mother before. And I didn't want to start things off this way, but if she would just smile at me, really smile, be nice to me, just a little'
'Yes,'she retorts icily. 'You will.'
'No, I won't.'
She looks mystified by this, and I wonder if she is
encountering the resistance of Ben's enchantment. She narrows her eyes and walks over to me, and I wonder if the enchantment is holding or if she will remark upon it. But she doesn't so much as glance at my sweatshirt, so I'm thinking Ben, however many times his name has been used against him, is managing to maintain it for me.
'You will come to dinner,'she spits out finally.
'Yes,'I agree, because I don't want to get ordered around, but, well, as unpleasant as she's been, this is my mother, and I do want to get to know her'even if it's to get to know
her so I can get the fantasy out of my head that she might actually love me.
She looks momentarily baffled by me, and I am pleased to have had that effect, and then she sweeps angrily from the room. Faeries don't stomp, I assume, but she comes as close to it as she can.
I stand in my room and wonder how I will know when it is time for dinner. I wonder if I am allowed to eat at the Seelie Court. I think of the myth where Persephone eats the pomegranate seeds and is condemned to be tied to the Underworld always. I wonder if it will be like that, and if so, why Will didn't warn me.
I walk over to the open window'a bit dangerous but maybe easier to escape from. Tir na nOg seems to be an endless maze. I cannot figure out how anything connects. Maybe my pane-less window is our best bet. But the window leads down to a sheer cliff face. I cannot even see any other
windows from my viewpoint. And there stretches the ocean. It is calm, smooth as glass, and a long way out I can see the outline of an island.
It doesn't matter. Even if I had some way to get Ben to my room and then both of us out this window, there is no way Ben could deal with all that water, especially not in the state he's in at the moment. We need to go out the way I came in and hope for a way across the canyon but I just have no idea how to find it again.
It's enchanted, clearly'enchanted to be a labyrinth, to be impossible to escape. I would have to break the enchantment, but how am I ever going to learn the name of a member of the Seelie Court? And would one name even be enough? Would I need all of their names? The Threader and Will had been impressed with my ability to break Ben's enchantment with only two of his names. I think of my sweatshirt. Clearly, my mother is not breaking all of his enchantments with merely two of his names. But even if I am unusually talented in naming magic, as Will told me I was, I doubt that breaking the enchantment over this place is similar at all to breaking Ben's enchantment. Surely the faerie prison from which no one has ever escaped isn't going to be dissolved by my saying a word or two, no matter how powerful Will might claim words are.
The Girl Who Never Was Page 12
