by Shelby Bach
I opened my eyes only in snatches. The sun was rising. We would beat it. We had to.
After my fifty-seventh sneeze, I spotted a dark gray structure set atop a cliff. Its muted green banners danced in the breeze. “There!”
“Draw your blade.” The Dapplegrim’s voice was ragged. Even he was out of breath. I wondered how far we’d gone. “Knights guard the top of the stairs. I could fight them, but it would slow me.”
“What stairs?” Then, unsheathing my sword, I spotted the narrow ledges barely a hand’s length wide, winding up and up. A giant horse couldn’t possibly gallop up that. “Crap.”
It doesn’t bother the people who can fly, Chase had said.
“Slice me, and I will throw you from my back—boon or no boon,” said the Dapplegrim. It took true talent to sound that intimidating when you were wheezing.
His hooves struck the stone steps with a jolt so hard I nearly dropped my weapon. I tangled my fingers deeper in his mane and sneezed again. My teeth clattered as the Dapplegrim hit each stair.
We were too high. I was going to throw up. I couldn’t throw up. The Dapplegrim wouldn’t carry me to the top then, and I’d never make it in time.
“Open your eyes, human.”
I did, staring upward so I wouldn’t have to see the drop. The gray sky was threaded with gold. The sun had almost risen.
Closer now, I could see the structure better—how dozens of trunks twisted together to form walls, towers, and turrets. Those green banners blowing in the wind weren’t cloth. They were actually hundreds of thousands of leaves.
Right at the front, two massive oak trees formed an arch two and a half stories high. Between them, two huge doors barred the way, made from vines woven in angular loops and swirls.
Two figures guarded the arch. Each wore black armor, and each had leaves hanging down its back where hair should have been.
Only two. I could handle two.
I concentrated on protecting the Dapplegrim’s sweaty flanks, and my sword’s magic flared.
The one on the left threw his spear at the Dapplegrim’s heart. The horse dodged it, as the guard on the right slashed. I locked my hilt guard with his and yanked. His blade spun out of his hands. The Dapplegrim reared—I squeaked a little, groping for a better hold—and kicked the huge doors open.
He galloped through. The hall’s ceiling was so low I had to duck my head against the Dapplegrim’s.
I sneezed again, and then we reached the throne room.
Fael was on the dais, his eyes as big as dragon scales. The questers sat beside him, in chains.
Chase sprang to his feet, so fast his manacles jangled. “It’s about time, Rory!”
Fael’s knights stepped out of the shadows. Etched leaves gleamed on their armor. They edged closer to the Dapplegrim until I unzipped my carryall and tugged the scepter out.
“No! You could damage it!” someone shouted.
The knights stopped. They stared at the scepter the same way the trolls had stared at my shoe.
When the Fey made no further move to stop us, the Dapplegrim trotted in the rest of the way. I glanced over the questers. Kenneth and Mia had just woken up, but besides a new bruise on Chase’s head and Kenneth’s split lip, they didn’t look hurt.
An orange sky shone through the windows. Dawn. We made it.
“So . . . ,” I said slowly, sheathing my sword. “I got it.”
“Very good.” Fael had recovered enough to lounge against the throne again. He was trying to seem uninterested, but his eyes never left the scepter. He was relieved to have it back. “Unfortunately, I said that the scepter needed to be in my hands before dawn, so one of your number will lose their life.”
Unbelievable.
What an evil little coward Fael was. He’d never done anything besides hide behind his daddy’s throne, tricking people, tormenting them. Chase was worth a thousand Faels.
“No. No more tricks.” I slid from the Dapplegrim’s back, scepter in hand. Nose running, clothes covered in magic horse fur, I marched up the dais. I grabbed Fael’s hand from under his chin—the prince nearly fell over in shock; the whole court gasped behind me—and I stuffed the silver tree into it.
The Dapplegrim had apparently decided he was done. His hooves clattered against the stone floor on the way out, but I didn’t turn around to watch.
“You dare to touch the Unseelie—” Fael began, outraged.
“Save it.” I lowered my voice. “I know what happened the night Iron Hans walked out of here. I know how he got his hands on the scepter.”
Horror and rage washed over his face. I knew I had him.
“This is what is going to happen.” I pointed at the lump of questers. They couldn’t hear me—they were too far away. But they were all on their feet, staring. Chatty’s hand was clutching Ben’s arm. “Like we agreed before, you’re going to let them go, because you got your scepter back. That includes removing the manacles, by the way. And unless you want me to tell this whole court what I know about how Iron Hans got this scepter, then you’ll have to take us all to the beach beside the Water of Life spring. And we need to get there safely by sundown—no excuses, no funny business.”
“Do you have any idea how far away we are?” the Fael snapped.
“You’re the Unseelie prince. I’m sure you can work something out. And,” I added in a flash of inspiration, “we’re going to do a Binding Oath. You can swear on your life or on your claim to the Unseelie throne, your choice. If you do these things, then I will swear only to tell Chase, and no one else.”
“You’ll tell no one,” Fael said, eyes narrowed.
I was way too exhausted for him to intimidate me. “I’ll tell Chase, and he’ll swear on his life that he won’t reveal it to anyone unless you give him the kind of trouble you gave him yesterday.”
The prince opened and closed his wings absently. “You drive a hard bargain, Rory Landon.”
“I’ll get what I want, Your Royal Highness.” Then I sneezed again. Geez, I would have traded Lena’s Lunch Box of Plenty for a lint brush.
“Turnleaf!” Fael beckoned Chase with one finger, and tossed something to the closest Fey guard. Keys—they clinked against the knight’s metal glove as he caught them.
Chase did pretty well. He didn’t look surprised at all when I explained how Fael was going to take us to the spring, and under what conditions. He just nodded, like this had always been our plan. When we swore the Binding Oaths, he managed to look serious and not smug.
Fael stopped me just as I started to tell Chase the three secrets. My fists clenched, thinking he was going to try and weasel out of our bargain again, but he just whispered, “Let our words die outside this circle of three; let their ears close up, their eyes not see.”
“Fey spell,” Chase explained, before I could ask. “Makes it impossible to eavesdrop.”
“You may proceed,” said Fael sullenly.
When I finished telling Chase, he didn’t exactly gasp—he just breathed in kind of sharply.
The Unseelie prince sprang to his feet. “Knights, ready the royal ship. We’re sailing the Ever Afters south.”
We would reach the spring by nightfall. I was so relieved I almost sat down in the middle of the Unseelie throne room.
he thing no one mentions about staying up all night, especially if you stay up all night stealing some scepter for a Fey prince, is that you’re completely useless the next day.
My brain had turned to stone. No thoughts could get through; they just made my head feel heavy.
The knights led us out of the throne room, around the corner, and down a long corridor, where the palace was waking up. Fey ladies and noblemen raised a few eyebrows when they opened their doors and saw Ever Afters paraded past them. One Fey with dots on her face covered her month and stifled a gasp, but I was the only one who noticed Chase clasp her hand quickly, barely even pausing before hurrying on. I think Lady Aspenwind knew her son would never forgive her if she made a scene and outed him t
o Ben, Kenneth, and the other EASers.
She didn’t follow us—she just watched as Prince Fael led us down a stairway. I don’t remember much else except that the steps were made of interwoven branches, stripped of bark by a thousand scuffing feet. I was busy trying not to fall down the stairs face-first.
A cavern opened at the bottom of the steps, its stalactites hanging gilded from the ceiling. Underneath them was a harbor—strange ships connected to long, ornate docks. A large yacht with five masts, carved and painted to look like a life-size blue whale. A tiny skiff with a spiderweb sail. The sky was blue and clear outside the cave mouth.
Chase turned to me as soon as the Fey knights were busy with the boat. His eyes were huge, but he contained his smirk. It was too small for the Unseelie prince to find insulting. “Well, it has to be said—you definitely know how to make an entrance.”
There’s not exactly a wide selection in the seventh grade. I couldn’t ask him if he’d really said it.
Chase’s tiny grin faded. I’d taken a second too long to respond.
“I would crack an awesome joke right now if I’d had more sleep,” I said finally, but he didn’t talk to me again after that. He just handed back the M3 I’d lent him. He was probably wondering if I was going to cry again.
As soon as we got on the boat that looked like a Viking long-ship, Chase started burning off last night’s adrenaline by climbing every inch of rigging, sliding up and down every rope. It also had the added bonus of getting him away from the Fey on deck—and me.
Ten minutes later we glided over the ocean, the water rushing underneath in a funnel of sea foam. If you hadn’t been able to tell it was a fairy ship by the fancy gold deck and the pretty blue stone inlaid in the rail, maybe the enormous odd sails would have tipped you off. They were shaped like outstretched fairy wings. Apparently, the boat could sail itself, because eleven Fey knights stood at attention at the railing. The twelfth and biggest fairy, Ori’an, was lying down in the middle of the deck.
Fael sat on a low chair covered in silk, his fingers drumming on his knee, clearly not pleased.
The Atlantis cliffs stood high and white and stark in one direction and the sea stretched out endlessly in the other, gilded with the sun. Every once in a while we could also spot a scaly rump of something swimming beside the boat. Apparently, the dolphins here came in turquoise, emerald, and violet.
I leaned against the mast, trying not to show how much I felt like hurling.
At least I wasn’t as bad off as Ben. He threw up nearly as often as Fael glared at me, but if anybody could seem cheerful while being violently ill, it was Ben. When Chatty handed him a glass of water from Lena’s Lunch Box of Plenty, pointing a finger at it sternly to remind him to rehydrate, he grinned and hugged her around the shoulders with one arm. I’m not sure that I would have appreciated being so close to vomit breath, but Chatty beamed back.
They were so relieved. We all were. Things were going smoothly for once.
But the contented sleepy glow of being extremely proud of myself had worn off. My shoulders ached with tension. Rounding the next bay, I even caught my hand gripping my sword, like a sea monster might raise its scaly head at any second.
It got harder and harder not to think about life after we reached the Water.
I already knew that Mom wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Mom and Amy would be so worried. I wasn’t so sure about Dad.
Well, there was nothing I could do to fix that problem. I couldn’t even ask Lena to send them a text to tell them I was okay. She still wasn’t answering her M3. I’d already checked.
I wished I could nap, like Kenneth and Mia, but I didn’t want to dream on a boat where a bunch of Fey could see me have nightmares.
Something was going to go wrong. I’d dreamed of Mia’s head sitting on a marble pedestal, clearly separated from her shoulders. I had seen it three times. And she deserved to know.
Especially since she couldn’t rely on me to protect her, considering how my sword’s magic had hiccupped during the last witch forest battle.
I crossed the deck quickly. There was absolutely no way to be sneaky about it on a boat, especially one full of bored fairies. A few knights glanced at me. Fael narrowed his eyes like I was up to something that would embarrass him.
Curled up on his side, facing the coil of rope Mia had stretched out on, Ori’an opened his gray eyes and stared. Without blinking. Yes, it was safe to say that Ori’an had won the creepy award.
“Mia.” I crouched down beside her.
She didn’t jump, or give me a what’s your problem glare, or squint like the sun behind me was too bright. But Kenneth, who had been sleeping on the deck just beside her, did all of the above.
Mia just looked at me, like she hadn’t been asleep at all, like she had been lying there awake, waiting for me. Her eyes were bluer than the sky behind her. “Yes?”
“I—” I got even more flustered. “I’ve had a dream about you. Three times. Your head is always on this table.”
She blinked at me. Clearly, it didn’t register.
“And it’s not attached to your body,” I added hesitantly, preparing to reach out and comfort her if tears came next.
For a second she didn’t process that either. I wondered if the Director hadn’t covered dreams in her orientation.
Swearing, Kenneth drew his sword like the beheader would jump out from behind the sails. “I’ll protect you, Mia. Don’t worry.”
Mia’s lips slowly curled up into a small, tight smile. “Thank you for telling me, Rory Landon.”
Goose bumps rose up on my arms, ones that had absolutely nothing to do with the sea wind.
I had been avoiding Mia. It wasn’t just the dream or how quiet she was.
Something was off about her. Who reacted so calmly when someone basically said, I think your head’s going to get cut off? Scratch what I’d said about Ori’an. Mia had won the Creepy award.
Chase dropped from the rigging and landed beside me with a thump. “Kenneth, how idiotic can you get? Put that sword away.” Kenneth opened his mouth like he would argue, but then Chase added, “The Fey aren’t exactly in the best mood. You could start a fight if they think we’re going to commandeer the ship.”
Every fairy eye was on us. They didn’t have their hands on their weapons, but a tense sort of readiness had replaced their boredom. Kenneth hastily sheathed his sword.
Mia being awake caused a stir too. Apparently, Ben thought he could get some quality time with her in between bouts of vomiting, because he started over. Chatty watched him go. Then she pulled stones from her pocket and started skipping them out to sea with the intensity of target practice.
Ben obviously didn’t notice how upset Chatty was. “Mia! How do you feel? I’m as sick as a dog.”
Chase leaned closer to me. “You had to tell her?”
“I dreamed it a third time. Right before they came,” I said, jerking my head toward the Fey knights.
He didn’t tell me off for adding another complication, like I thought he would. Either the crying fest the night before had freaked him out, or he felt crappy for talking bad about me while I was saving his life. “Do you remember what it looked like? The room in the dream?”
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before. Your dreams could only help you if you looked for clues in them. I shook my head, frustrated.
Fael looked our way again, scowling. Clearly, he thought we were plotting against him. He was just a self-centered little brat. I wondered how the Fey knights felt about following the Unseelie prince, and whether or not Chase—if he had stayed with his mother—would have grown up to be one of them.
“I just had a thought,” I said. Chase glanced up. “In a year or two you’ll be older than he is. I’m pretty sure you’re already taller.”
I didn’t say Fael’s name on purpose, in case the Fey overheard, but Chase understood anyway. That tiny smirk returned, and a second later he was climbing up the rigging again.
&
nbsp; And, staring up at where he hung from a rope near the crow’s nest, so high that the wind would rip away sound before it could reach the deck below, I realized what he was doing up there: He was laughing, completely delighted with how things had turned out between him and the Unseelie prince.
My chest squeezed. If we did go our separate ways after this quest, I’d miss him so much.
• • •
We reached the spring when the sky blushed with sunset. I’d thought that the directions were vague—I mean, two crossed pines somewhere next to the sea on a continent ringed with beaches? But you recognized it as soon as you saw it: The pines were as big as redwoods, and they weren’t just crossed—their trunks twisted together in the middle.
“Geez, X marks the spot,” said Chase. “Way to be obvious.”
“I have fulfilled my part of the bargain,” said Fael. “It’s your turn now.”
“I bargained to get us on the beach,” I said shortly. “We’re kind of far away.”
“ ‘To’ was your exact word,” said Fael smugly, and I fought the urge to throw my carryall in his face.
“Still, good for your first negotiation,” Chase said without sarcasm. He was still being freakishly nice.
“But,” said Mia, “how will we get to shore?”
Chatty looked at me, rolled her eyes, and climbed up on the railing. Then, with a graceful dive, she slipped under the ocean’s surface and came up seventy feet closer to the beach. Her strokes were so neat that from this far away you couldn’t even tell she was wearing a pack.
“Looks like we’re going for a swim.” I climbed up on the railing and held on to the nearest rope. “Everybody else go first.” I didn’t trust Fael not to try something. Maybe he had been planning that the whole way. Maybe his pouting face was the same as his plotting face.
Ben, Mia, and Kenneth splashed into the ocean behind me.
Chase was thinking the same thing. “Please don’t attack us when we leave the boat. It’s already been kind of a long day.”
“We will sail to the Unseelie harbor,” said a knight. “We have been called back. Our king has come home, and he wishes us to return his boat as soon as possible.”
