by Kailin Gow
Suddenly I felt a hand clamp over my mouth.
“Don't scream,” came a whispered voice. It was not frightening; there was something calming and soft in it. “My name is Rodney,” said the voice. “I am a loyal subject and a knight of the Summer Court. I am here to free you.”
I nodded; he let me go.
“How did you...” I began.
“We swam,” said Rodney, shaking out some wet hair onto the ground. “Enchanted the dolphins in the moat so they could communicate with us – tell us a good way in.”
“We?”
“Logan is here too – he's gone to get the Princess Shasta.” When Rodney spoke her name, his love for her was clear; I could see in the darkness how the blush had spread like a rose bloom over his cheeks. “We have a secret passageway out. I think it's been in disuse for a while – probably originally for spies to get out unnoticed during the Fairy Siege.”
“Fairy Siege?”
“We've tried to conquer the Pixies many times,” said Rodney with nonchalance. “But never have we succeeded.”
I thought of Delano's rage – calling me, calling us the oppressors – but said nothing.
“Quick, it's this way – we can do it stealthily. Enchant your footsteps, if you can. Make sure nobody can hear or see you.”
Rodney took hold of my hand and led me through one of the portrait galleries – a whole host of pixie kings frozen in time like insects in amber.
When we arrived at the entrance to the passageway, secreted behind a portrait of King Pranzide the Second, we saw a blue ribbon tied around one of the protruding stones.
“It's a sign!” said Rodney. “Shasta and Logan have already made it out. Let's go.”
My heart began thumping loudly. The promise of seeing Logan again, of being close to him and feeling his arms wrapped tightly around me, was almost more than I could bear. But I had to stay strong. I had to get out alive.
My hand wrapped tightly in Rodney's, I stumbled down the long passageway – spiral stairs after spiral stairs, that led down to an entrance to the moat.
“Now,” said Rodney. “Hold your breath. And swim!”
We plunged together into the dark waters. I felt something slimy touch me and started; in terror I opened my eyes and felt relief slacken my muscles. It was a dolphin, sleek and noble, with its fins protruding out towards me. Rodney nudged me, creating a stream of bubbles in the water, and I seized hold of one of the flippers; Rodney took the other. In a flash of jetsam the dolphin took off, propelling out from the moat, taking us to the other side of the bank...
My heart was pounding harder now, and I couldn't breathe; I felt my fingers loosen on the dolphin's flippers, my mind blank in and out of consciousness...
At last we reached the shore. Rodney helped me scramble up to the side of the bank and we looked up together at the dark castle above us – impenetrable at first, with so many secret ways in and out...
“You have done well, Master Dolphin,” whispered Rodney, patting the creature on the head. “When the Fairies reconquer the Pixie lands – you shall be made a knight of the Navy!”
The dolphin bubbled out a joyous assent.
“Rodney!” I heard Shasta's whisper break the spell of night.
“Bree!” And it was a voice I knew all too well.
Shasta and Logan appeared on the horizon.
Overjoyed, we rushed towards them.
Chapter 8
Before we had time to properly engage with each other or with our surroundings, Rodney led us deep into the night-black forests, the underbrush clinging to our feet. We were all too excited, our hearts beating too quickly, to take in what was going on; Rodney, at least, had the presence of mind to steer us into where we wouldn't be caught.
“Light an invisibility circle,” he whispered hoarsely, and Shasta and I began the same low, soft chant that she had first taught me upon first making our escape, concentrating our magic on securing the borders of our campsite between two stretching fir trees.
“We made it,” whispered Shasta at last, when we had at last created for ourselves a little campsite of safety. “We made it.” Her whisper turned into a joyous shout; her face – ecstatic, radiant – was even more luminous than usual in the flickering of the magical candles we had lit on each tiny needle of the fir tree. “Oh, Rodney.”
Decorum forgotten, the two of them threw themselves into each other's arms, wrapping themselves so tightly around each other than in the shadows they seemed less like two fairies in love than like a single, dynamic being, so full of life and love and energy that a thousand mortal bodies could not have contained it.
“I missed you so much, Rodney,” whispered Shasta. “And I didn't even get to say goodbye – when I had to go away...I had to go home – but I even tried to run back! But I couldn't – not with so many lives at stake...so much at stake...” She was no longer the regal princess now; now, as Rodney stroked her hair and softly cupped her face in his hands, she was as girlish and sweet as any mortal.
“I understand,” said Rodney. “It would have been too dangerous for you to come back. But that's why I went – you see – I followed you both! I would have offered myself up as a prisoner in the Winter Court and then you could have been my captor – my jailer! Already you have the key to my heart.”
Logan gave an uncomfortable cough and shuffle of his feet. Against the overwhelming passion of Shasta and Rodney, my own reunion with Logan seemed clumsy – awkward – unsure. It was so easy for them to vanish into their whirlwind of emotions, to forget that we were watching them as they covered each other's faces and hands and mouths with kisses.
“We can't be apart ever again,” I heard Rodney saying as he kissed Shasta's neck. I was grateful for the dim flickering of the lights; I was blushing a shade of scarlet more suited to shades of fruit than shades of complexion, and I didn't want Logan to see how uncomfortable all this was making me. I could tell that he felt awkward too; he was standing stiffly at a distance.
“Logan...” I tried to say. I tried to greet him, tried to explain – explain how sorry I was, how much I'd missed him, how I wasn't sure – and yet I knew that when I thought he was dead my whole world had collapsed and inverted upon itself. There was so much to say and yet I couldn't for all my magic find a way of saying it, of expressing it. And I was afraid, too, of what Logan had to say to me. Would there be anger? Would he reproach me? Would he...
And then I didn't have time to think any longer. I saw Logan set his jaw with firm resolve and turn towards me. In a few striding steps he was in front of me, his face close to mine, and then his hands were on my shoulders, pulling me towards him, pulling my mouth towards his.
And then he kissed me.
In the brief seconds between the time he began walking towards me and the time when our lips were finally, finally touching, I had a series of thoughts. I thought of resisting, of apologizing; I thought of Kian, of that magical and terrifying week in his hunting-lodge in the Winter badlands, of my dreams of fairy waltzes, of my fear, my apologies, my anger at myself, how overwhelmed I was by Feyland and pixies and marriage and politics and war – always war! And yet when Logan's lips were on mine, bruising my mouth with the full intensity of his passion, none of these things seemed to matter to me. His arms were locked around the back of my neck, pressing me towards him with the full animal force of him – his kisses had in them the strength and vigor of a wolf! I felt my knees going weak; I felt my mouth opening up to his.
It was not like my first kiss with Kian. That had been as delicately dangerous as shattered glass – a beautiful, magical moment as still and picturesque as one of Kian's fairy paintings on the walls of his hunting-lodge. It had been like a dream – a gorgeous, wonderful dream but a dream nonetheless. This felt real. I could smell the familiar musk on his neck and his chest. I could taste his lips, feel the bristle of the stubble on his chin. This was the Logan I had almost kissed on my birthday, before the Pixie King came, before Kian came and I was dragged int
o Feyland and changed forever. This was my best friend – the person to whom I had confided all my secrets, all my fears and worries, for ten years or more. His kiss was not new or strange; rather, it was familiar – containing all the friendship and love and trust that had passed between us in the ten years of our friendship.
At last he pulled away, kissing my forehead and my hand.
“Let's talk,” he said, his voice low and soft as he led me behind a great oak tree – as much to give Shasta and Rodney privacy as to make sure we were not heard.
“I missed you,” I said, my voice shaking. “And – Logan – I'm so sorry...”
“You've risked your life at the Pixie Castle twice now,” said Logan, ruffling my hair. “First for Kian, then for me. Breena, you're the bravest girl I know.”
“I missed you,” I said, snuggling down into his chest. “So much. I didn't know until I thought you were dead – how much I felt...how strongly...”
He stroked my hair. “I never told you,” he said. “I was a coward. It was only when I let some... fairy prince almost steal your heart that I realized I had to tell you – or risk losing you. And then it was too late – and you seemed so happy...”
“I don't want to live without you in my life,” I said. “When I thought you were dead, it was like something huge and empty opened up inside me; I couldn't stand it! I would have done anything – even married Delano – to get you back...”
“I'm glad you didn't,” he said, hugging me tightly.
“My mother,” I broke in. “She's at the Winter Court. That's why...”
“Rodney explained it to me,” said Logan, grinning. “He's a nice guy, Rodney. Although I do hope Summer-Winter couplings don't become the fashion in Feyland.”
I blushed; I didn't want him to remind me of Kian. I knew he was jealous, but I could not stand to speak ill of Kian, whom I had not seen since my abduction at the hands of the Summer Court.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“Well, let's start by getting your mother out of Feyland. As far as I recall your mother liked the beach, not the cold – I imagine she's not enjoying her vacation at the Winter Court.” Logan chuckled. “I'm sure she's fine – they don't mistreat hostages there.”
“But the Summer Court says...”
“The Winter Court says your Queen roasts hostages alive. As far as I can tell, Shasta hasn't been roasted anytime lately.”
He had a point.
“And then what?” I asked Logan, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“And then,” said Logan, giving me an affectionate tap on the nose, “I say you, me, and your mother head back beyond the Crystal River, and return to normal.”
Normal. The word filled me at once with joy and dread. I wanted to be safe, to sleep, to be with those I loved without worrying about other people's wars, other people's magic. And yet – could I bear to leave Feyland?
“I'll make sure you all get to Gregory safely,” said Logan, kissing my forehead again.
It was then that we heard the sharp sound of rustling among the leaves. Wary of a pixie attack, we jumped up, looking back around behind the tree.
We heard the crunch of leaves, of footsteps – two pairs of footsteps, running off into the distance.
Shasta and Rodney had gone.
Chapter 9
Immediately we sprang into action, scanning the dark clearings, the shadowy pathways, for any sign of Rodney or Shasta. Had the Pixies taken them? No – we reasoned – there was no way any pixie could have crossed the magical threshold that we had created together with our spell. The only way the perimeter could have been broken was if Shasta and Rodney had left on their own accord...
“Run!” Logan shouted at me, and together we dashed, hand in hand, through the leafy night, following the sounds – growing faster and faster now – of footsteps crunching leaves ahead of us. We ran and the wind whipped our faces and our hair; I could feel Logan's hand grow more powerful, furrier, as he began to transition into the Wolf form.
“Get on my back,” he roared, his voice changing from human scream to lupine howl, and I assented, gripping his flowing hair between my fingers and feeling the power of his muscles ripple beneath my legs.
As a wolf, Logan was faster than any fairy, and soon we were able to gain on them, seeing their figures ever more clearly in the distance. They were running away! Shasta and Rodney, hands locked together, almost out of breath now, running away from us...
“Stop!” I called out to them, my voice by now exhausted from the run. “Stop!”
We caught up with them near a ravine, where a precipitous drop seemed a less palatable option for the two of them than stopping to face us directly. They stopped short, their feet dragging briefly in the earth, and then turned to face us.
Suddenly, we felt a blinding green flash envelop us, strike us, knock us back! Rodney and Shasta had used their magic on us! I felt something wet trickle down my cheek and knew that it must be blood; anger boiled up in me! Had we not just helped Shasta escape from the Pixie Court! And now she was trying to run away again!
“Stop!” I cried again, tasting blood in my mouth. I focused my anger inwardly – I need to stop them, to bind them, just to hold them still a little longer...
A blue flash counteracted their green one, and both Rodney and Shasta stumbled back.
“Don't take me home!” cried Shasta, her voice hot with rage. “I'm in love, Bree! Don't try to stop me!”
She sent another blast of magical anger our way.
“Try to stop you from destroying innocent lives and running away, you mean?”
“Rodney and I will be separated if you make us go home!” she yelled back. “Well, I won't do it! I refuse to do it!”
I struck her once more with my magic, and now I could see a spot of blood gathering at the side of her lips.
I slid off Logan's back and began heading towards them; behind me, I could hear a rush of sound as Logan started transforming from beast back into man.
“You can't make me go back there!” shouted Shasta, with all the inchoate brattiness of a teenage girl. “You can't make me.”
“Like hell I can't,” I muttered to myself, trying to cast a binding spell. But Shasta was almost as strong as I was – perhaps even stronger – and she continued to resist the nebulous smoky chains that were beginning to materialize around her and Rodney's legs and arms, brought into being by my magic...
“I don't want to go home!”
“Stop!” cried a booming, powerful voice. It was Logan, striding towards the two of them, letting their attack-magic bounce off him, ignoring the pain that every blast must surely have inflicted upon him. “Stop it right now!”
“Please,” moaned Shasta. “Just go away and let us be. Beyond the Crystal River.”
“And sacrifice Breena's mother?” Logan roared, and I could still hear the Wolf in his voice.
“And sacrifice Breena? And what about all the innocent fairy lives that will be taken if the war drags on? Are they worth your emotions?”
“I don't care,” said Shasta stubbornly, but her voice was shaking. “I just want to be with Rodney.”
Rodney looked at the ground, ashamed. He knew what Logan was saying was true.
“You can't just run away from your problems, Princess,” he said. “I know we'd all like to sometimes. But there are more important things than love. Like bravery – and honor. Like doing right by your friends. Like doing right by your country. By the people who trust you to lead them. You could be a Queen one day, Shasta; act like it!”
“Spoken like a true fairy,” Rodney muttered. Werewolves were not looked upon with much respect in Feyland; this was a great compliment indeed.
Rodney gently laid down his sword at our feet. Shasta bit her lip, staring us down a moment longer, before she too nodded and lay down her weapon.
“And perhaps the Winter Queen will show you some mercy yet,” said Logan. “She is a mother, after all. Beneath the Queen there is a mother, too.�
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“If only,” said Shasta softly. “My mother doesn't care if I'm happy or not – as long as I make her proud.”
“Your country is at war,” said Logan, with uncompromising harshness in his voice – he almost sounded like Kian, I thought. “Your happiness is less important than the lives of your people.”
“And peace would bring us both!” Shasta cried.
For that was the truth. Beyond our talk of sacrifice and duty, beyond our talk of love, the truth was that peace between our two kingdoms would do more for both our happiness and that of the citizens of the Fairy Kingdoms than any battle or act of heroism could do.
“Then let us bring peace,” said Logan, at last smiling. He offered her his hand; at last she took it. “Let us bring peace between the Kingdoms – stay in Feyland and work towards these noble ends, rather than running away and leaving our country torn in war.”
“I have behaved dishonorably, Wolf,” said Rodney. “For this I am sorry. I have behaved in a manner unfitting a knight of the Fairy Court.” He was careful not to specify which Fairy Court. He turned to Shasta. “My lady,” he said, kneeling to kiss her hand. “You are a fool to love one so selfish and dishonorable as I.”
“And you, my knight,” she said, her diction of these chivalric formulae pitch-perfect, “are unwise to love one so selfish and dishonorable as I.” She turned back towards me. “We have not behaved fittingly. We have behaved like children.” Now calmed down, she was careful to speak in the rich melodies and precise diction of a princess, rather than the babbling incoherencies of a teenaged girl. “I apologize; we lay ourselves at your feet and at your mercy.”
