by Kailin Gow
“What did you think it was, child?” she raised an eyebrow.
I was silent.
“What is it?” And then she laughed. “Do you mean to tell me you didn't know?”
Dumbly, I nodded.
“Oh, you poor girl!” Her former anger was gone, replaced with a regal amusement. “You poor, poor girl. You see, I suppose – when I tell you you are your father's daughter, you must take it neither as compliment nor as criticism, for there is both the good and the bad in him.”
“My Queen,” I said, “I cannot defend my father, nor can I be held responsible for his actions. But I promise, if you will let me, to try to learn from his mistakes.”
I thought of Kian and a great pain, like fire, shot through me.
“You are a good speaker,” said the Queen. “Are you good at magic?”
“I've picked up a little,” I admitted.
“Enough to keep you safe on this quest of yours, if you decide to go out in search of the prisoner exchange and your mother?”
“Yes, I think so. I know how to fight off Pixies now.”
“Good girl,” said the Queen. “Pity, isn't it?” She smiled ruefully to herself.
“What is it, your Highness,” I asked her.
“I can never have any children of my own,” said the Queen. “You are the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have.”
I made a motion to speak.
“It is fact,” she said sharply, before I could discern any sentiment in her statement. “Neither good nor bad. Perhaps bad. I would have liked children, and you are far from what I would have hoped from a daughter, from an heir. Any heir I could have borne would have been far more beautiful than you, and far stronger. But I suppose I'm stuck with you.”
“Make no mistake – if you are to die on your voyage, and your mother with you, to be eaten by Pixies or some such nonsense – I will not fuss. I will not mind. I prefer only that your mother is not in Winter Court’s hands by the time that happens. I will in that case encourage my husband to choose another concubine – to create another heir. One bastard is as good as the next.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “But you do have fairy blood, Breena; I will not deny that. That much is true.”
I wasn't sure quite what to make of this conversation. But at least I wasn't going to be sent to the dungeon, to be eaten by rats and other subterranean creatures. I considered my current position an improvement.
Chapter 3
Once it was decided that I would escort the Princess Shasta through the perilous tangles of forest into the safety of the Winter Court, the rest of the day seemed to pass by in a whirlwind. Guards were summoned; orders were barked. The Summer Queen raised and lowered her hand with an imperious dispassion; she was sending some men to certain death on the battlefields, others meanwhile were spared to perform espionage missions or guard the gates. She performed all her actions, made all her decisions, with the same radiant but haughty calm she had exhibited towards me. I stood mutely alongside her, waiting for her to finish with the affairs of the day, my feet aching with the strain of standing. She did not seem to notice; rather, she made a point of not looking at me as she summoned soldier after soldier in for orders, and I knew that there was nothing I could do more stupid or more tactless than to interrupt her. At last, when the rays of orange sunset had crept like lizards across the floor of the palace hall, she relented and turned to me, peering down her nose with eyes as glowing and warm and all-encompassing as the sun itself.
“You have been patient enough, I suppose,” said the Queen. “I have reason to think and hope you have learned at least some manners beyond the Crystal River.”
I nodded at her.
“Well then,” she said. “I suppose we must get you an audience with the Princess.” I was a Princess, too, but she did not acknowledge that. She wanted me to feel small – inferior. Shasta may have been of the enemy kingdom, but in the Queen's mind I had not yet learned my place.
“I would be honored,” I said, following her lead.
“Guards!” she called.
One of the Fairies entered; I recognized him as one of the Fairy Knights that had stolen me from Kian's side. I thought again of Kian, with his cool beauty and easy manner, and my heart again contorted within my chest.
“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard nodded deeply, his knees grazing the lush carpets laid out on the floor.
“Take this girl to the Princess. To Shasta. She will be escorting her back home – to negotiate the prisoner exchange.” She breathed out deeply as the guard nodded, rising swiftly and offering me a hand to accompany him.
I followed the guard down the long corridors, remembering that last time I had seen the house of a prisoner of state, I had been on the inside of it – the dank, terrifying dungeon of the Pixie King, filled with darkness so deep, so profound that it had filled my nostrils and my mouth, so strong I could taste it. Was this, I wondered, how the Summer Queen was treating Shasta?
I was wrong. The guard escorted me not to a dungeon, but rather to a room – albeit one under lock and key. The guard unlocked the door and we entered.
The room was sparse, but not spartan – it had the simple charm of a country inn, perhaps somewhat less luxurious than the ornate audience-chambers and throne rooms of the rest of the Summer Palace, but certainly nothing that would have violated the Geneva Conventions over the Land Beyond the Crystal River. Perhaps the Summer Queen's reputation for violence and misdeeds against prisoners had been somewhat exaggerated in the Winter Court – it wouldn't be the first time in my life I'd heard pieces of political propaganda. I had to admit I was relieved. I was beginning to like and respect the Summer Queen, despite her evident distaste for me, and I had been worried that I would feel compelled to like her a good deal less had I come across the Princess Shasta shackled in irons and chains.
Rather, the Princess Shasta was reclining on the bed, leaning away from us, her hair – tresses so black that they were almost blue – obscuring her face. When she heard the door open she turned towards us, and I gasped.
I had expected her to resemble her brother, of course, but I had not expected the resemblance to be so striking. Next to Kian, Shasta was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her icy stare was unearthly, filled with a power that shook me to the core. Her neck was long and swan-white; her eyes were blue like the sky above snowy mountains. For the first time since I came to Feyland, I began to feel almost as self-conscious as I had in the days of Clariss and her attendant mean girls – wondering if my arms were toned enough, my nose small and delicate enough, my eyes piercing enough. If girls at the Winter Court looked like that, I wondered that Kian had ever cast eyes on me at all.
“What do you want?” she said, roughly. “Any more news on a peace treaty? None, I suppose. Not as long as you lot are convinced war is the only way to solve your problems.” She turned away with a prim scoff.
“Coat on, your Highness,” said the Fairy Knight, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain. “You're going home.”
She blanched.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“Prisoner exchange. You're free to return to the Winter Court at last.”
Color sprang to Shasta's cheeks – for a moment it seemed that the thought was more terrifying than thrilling to her. Then she returned to her regal implacidity. “Very good,” she said. “Who shall escort me?”
“I will,” I said, stepping forward with more bravery than I felt. “I'll escort you.”
“Very good,” she said. “What are you – I didn't know there were female foot-soldiers among you.”
I flushed. “You don't remember me?” I said.
“Remember you?” She shrugged. “I don't remember any of the servants.”
This stung; I felt decidedly un-princesslike at the moment.
“If nobody from your Court recognizes any of the royal family, either,” I said, “no wonder you're always at war.”
She furrowed her brow, confused.
“And I'l
l remind you that you're speaking to the Princess of the Summer Court.”
If this surprised her, she didn't show it. She had been brought up not to.
She made a requisite curtsey.
“An honor, your Highness,” she said.
I stared her back down. “An honor, your Highness,” I replied.
“You are to escort me?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Nobody else?” Her voice faltered for a moment.
“No, nobody, why?”
“Never mind,” she shook her head and looked down at the ground. “Let me get my things.”
Ten minutes later we had been equipped with weapons and a horse each, and began to set out in the direction of the snow-capped towers and mountains we saw vaguely glimmering in the distance.
“You must be glad to be going home,” I said, as we began at a brisk trot.
“I am glad there is progress towards peace,” said Shasta, coldly, looking straight ahead of her.
“Look,” I said, “I don't care that you're Winter material. It doesn't matter to me. I'm not your enemy. For goodness's sake – we used to play together as children.”
“I remember.” She kicked the sides of her horse.
“I'm not about to kidnap you. I'm trying to help you.”
We came to a small stream.
“Well,” said Shasta, through gritted teeth. “Try harder.” Suddenly she kicked deeply into the horse's side – setting it off into a canter and then a gallop. It took me a moment to figure out what she was doing – she was going back!
“Stop!” I cried, kicking my mount. “What are you doing?”
Onwards and onwards she sped, darting in and out of trees and clearings like a firefly in the dark. I concentrated all my magic on following her – she couldn't get away – she was the one chance I had of ever seeing my mother again....I bit my lip and held my breath, willing the horse to go faster, willing the horseshoe to push harder against the earth…
At last I caught up with her, grabbing hold of her reins. The horse whinnied and neighed.
“What on earth do you think you're doing?” I asked her. I was in no mood to be polite.
She yanked the reins away from me. “You wouldn't understand...” she said, hiding her face. “Let me go!”
“And risk the lives of the hostages? Not to mention all the people that will die in coming battles if the war gets worse?”
“Stop it,” she said, refusing to look at me. “Go away!”
“I won't!” I said. “Now you explain right now what you think you're playing at. I've been dealing with battles and politics and danger for two weeks, and I'm in no mood for someone to play games with me!”
Shasta's face fell instantly. A moment ago, she had been a fearsome princess, with the haughty stare and set jaw of a true fairy creature of a noble race. Now, with a blush creeping like sunrise over her cheeks and tears stinging the almond-shaped corners of her eyes, she looked like nothing as much as a girl like me – a girl like me. She looked up and instantly she seemed so much younger, so much more approachable, so much less frightening than she had moments earlier. My insecurities vanished along with my anger; I wanted only to hold her and hug her and tell her that everything would be all right. After all, she must have been scared – as scared as I was – taken prisoner in a hostile land that perhaps she didn't even understand all that much better than I did.
Shasta sensed the change in my demeanor, and she too softened, allowing herself a brave little smile amid the tears that were now proceeding in a military march down her cheeks.
“I can't help it,” said Shasta. “It's just – I don't want to leave.” She rubbed her eyes. “I don't want to leave the Summer Court. There, I've said it.” She swallowed hard.
Not want to leave the Summer Court? I couldn't understand – why would anyone want to stay a prisoner? “What happened?” I asked her, taking her hand; she slowly allowed her fingers to uncurl into mine.
“It's stupid,” she said miserably, staring down into the earth. Her tears plopped down onto the horse's main. “It's ridiculous.” At last she looked up, taking a deep breath as she did so. “Oh, Breena, it's love.”
Love – of course, it was. That power that the Fairy Kingdom feared, despised, tried to eliminate and control and tame. Love – the Winter Queen and Summer Queen alike had called it too great a risk when magic was involved. And here it was again, staring me in the face. I could not pretend I did not understand her.
“Who do you love,” I asked her.
“He's...” her voice trailed off. “He's one of you.” She looked up at me, pleading with her eyes. “He's a knight of the Summer Court. Please – I don't want to get him in trouble...”
“Your secret is safe,” I said. “I know what it is like to love someone you're not supposed to.”
“He's called Rodney,” she said again. “That's why I was taken prisoner – I did it on purpose. He agreed – he captured me so we could stay together – he brought me my food every day, arranged to be on the quiet guard shifts so that we could steal time, spend moments together – he would have been banished, if the Queen found out, but we couldn't stop.”
I felt anger flood my heart. I had tried hard to swallow back my feelings for Kian, to avoid acting on them, lest my responsibilities as Princess be shirked by my feelings for the enemy. And here was Shasta, putting her entire country at risk – putting me at risk – by letting herself be taken hostage into the Summer Court.
“Well, that was pretty selfish of you, wasn't it?” I said. It was petty and mean, and I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Shasta looked up at me as if I had slapped her.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “It was stupid – please forgive me. I didn't mean to be cruel.” I smiled weakly. “I know all too well what love can do...”
“You? In love?” Shasta cocked her head. “But who...how...?”
“Remember the Summer Court when we were younger?” I asked her. “The Fairy Waltz. The promises...”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Kian!”
“Yes...”
“Oh, the teasing I'll give him.” For a moment she giggled impishly, like a girl, rather than a fairy – the cares of international diplomacy forgotten for a brief spell of connection. “How did you meet Kian?”
“He kidnapped me,” I said. “To exchange me for you. But that rather...it didn't come off too well, as you can see.”
Shasta smiled. “Will you see him, when you go back to the Winter Court with me I mean?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I don't know.”
We began riding slowly again into the night, our spirits buoyed by our conversation and by our connection. “I don't want to start a war,” I said, “or make this war any worse. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I've already hurt people because of how I feel. I've already been selfish. I had this friend, Logan, back at school, on the other side...”
“The Land Beyond the Crystal River!” cried Shasta.
“Yes – only he was a werewolf, but I didn't know that until much later. And we were so close – such good friends.” The thought of Logan made my eyes prickle with tears. I missed him, on those occassions that I allowed my heart to open up to thoughts of him. “And I think he – well – he had feelings for me. And I had feelings for him too – only then I met your brother...and it was different – and Feyland was different – and I didn't know what I was feeling, whether it was because of magic, or because of...”
“...love?”
“Yes, love, exactly!” I cried, ecstatic to have at last found someone who understood. “And now – Logan was killed by the Pixie King Delano,” I said. “So I never got a chance to apologize – for hurting him. I know I must have...for your brother's sake. I didn't mean to. But I was silly, and selfish, and I was too overwhelmed by everything to think straight.”
“That's how I felt about Rodney,” said Shasta. “We met in your world, you know. I used to love to glamour – to make
myself look mortal – and head into the Land Beyond the Crystal River. I have the magic for that – my mother says I've got some of the strongest magic in Feyland. And I used to go take cooking classes.”
“Cooking classes?” I was taken aback.
“Yes, of course,” said Shasta. “It wouldn't be seemly for a princess to cook here! Cooking is a man's job! Every time I snuck into the kitchen to sniff some roasting boar or fowl the housekeeper would send me back to the blacksmith's hut and tell me to keep forging iron.”
I remembered what Kian had told me the night he cooked for me a luscious feast. Cooking was associated with the hunt in Fairy culture – in both the Winter and Summer courts alike. Traditionally, men were the hunters, so men also cooked their meals – the fire was a symbol of masculinity. Women, meanwhile, were expected to forge weapons – they were seen as the givers of life, and therefore also those who should make those items that took life away. It was one of those strange pieces of fairy culture that had not yet sunk in.
“So I decided to try my luck and head on over to the mortal land. And Rodney went too, in disguise, because he wanted to learn recipes – you have no idea how exotic Crystal River recipes are to fairies here. And apparently there's a black market in spices from your world – he would go to the...what was it called? Two numbers...”
“Seven eleven?”
“Yes, seven eleven! And he would buy all of your spices and sell them in our world for bags and bags of gold!”
The idea of my local grocery store providing a treasure trove of bounty made me giggle.
“I found him out – no mortal needs sixty boxes of cinnamon sticks – and then we fell in love over the most delicious pasta in the world...” Shasta sighed. “Pasta with tomato sauce, basil, and mozzarella cheese. There is nothing in the entire world like it – I'm convinced of that!”
“It's not bad,” I said.
“Maybe I was selfish,” said Shasta. “But you have to understand – love here is taboo. It's not talked about, not celebrated. If it happens at all it's seen as shameful for both men and women; even if someone felt something like it we'd no more discuss it than we'd discuss our bodily functions or urinate in public! But with Rodney...we could do all sorts of things in your world that we couldn't do here. We'd go on dates in glamour – in our mortal disguises – to romantic restaurants! We'd walk hand in hand! We'd kiss in public! And in your world – all these things are not only tolerated – why, they are encouraged!” She sighed. “I think your world has more magic than mine.”
