by Kailin Gow
“Well, there's no need for that,” I said, a bit taken aback. “Just promise you won't do it again.”
“We swear a sacred oath,” said Shasta. “We will not run away again. We swear by the ancient laws and the old codes.”
“So we swear,” echoed Rodney. They both nodded, as if to confirm it to the heavens.
“Right,” said Logan. “It's nearly dawn, now. Should we head back? Maybe have some breakfast? Sweep all of this under the rug.”
It was difficult to stay angry with Shasta and Rodney. They had only done, in the end, what Kian and I had so longed to do. (Kian! But I couldn't think of that now.)
We returned to our campsite, and once more Shasta and I repeated the magical incantation that secured our borders against invasion. We lit a fire and Rodney brought out some fruits and meats from his pouch, which we attempted to roast over the open flame, speared by twigs and branches.
Shasta nuzzled up to me. “Who is he?” she asked. “Your Wolf? Have you forgotten my brother so quickly?”
It was a question I knew I had to answer sooner or later. “Your brother,” I said, “I care for very deeply. But I cannot allow myself to think of him. You are not the Crown Princess – your love is perhaps possible. I cannot think of it.” It was mostly true – I had neglected to mention my conflicted feelings towards Logan, how unsure I was of myself – if I saw them both before me now, both in love with me, both wanting me, I still had no idea which of them I would choose.
“The Wolf and I have known each other for ten years – ten human years. And I value his counsel highly.” I sounded like a princess, I thought. Just like her.
“Is that all you value?” whispered Shasta to me. I felt my face flush once more with shame. Was I doing the right thing? I didn't know. All I knew is that I wanted to feel Logan's arms around me once more, that familiar musk at his neck, the softness of his lips.
Logan came over to me and took my hand, enveloping it in his; absent-mindedly, I stroked his hand, his wrist, ruffled his hair. He placed his arms around me in a great bear hug, pressing me deep into his chest. He was warm; he was safe. I closed my eyes and felt the glimmering flame from the campfire prickle comfortably against my skin. I wanted to stay like this – far from pixies, far from fairies, far from war – with a boy I loved, and who I knew to love me.
“I shall cook,” said Rodney, with a slight bow. “A feast to express my apologies for troubling the two of you. Logan – would you help me?”
“Gladly,” said Logan. “I love to cook.” He smiled sadly and I knew he was looking at me, thinking of me, thinking of the last time we cooked together. It was my birthday, and he had come over to surprise me, and we had together made tortilla chips and all manner of dishes and filled the house with flour powder as we laughingly chased each other up and downstairs, carefree. It was my sixteenth birthday, and hours later Delano had arrived, and then Kian had come, and then all else after that seemed so strange to me that it did not seem to belong to the same world at all, but rather to a whole other existence, a whole other girl.
He had nearly kissed me then. As he looked at me, his great brown eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners, I knew he was remembering that prelude to our kiss – the way he had leaned so close to me...the way I had leaned back...
I knew he was wondering the same thing that I had wondered many times. If he had been a second sooner, if Delano had been a second later. If his lips had touched mine – if I had opened my lips to his and let him kiss me with all the passion that had been building up inside him for ten years – then would I have been so taken with Kian, the boy I danced the Fairy Waltz with while a toddler in Feyland? Would I have been so ready to fall for him? I was sixteen – I had never been kissed – I had dreamed of romance so often and yet I had never been kissed, never known any more about love than what I had read in fairy-tales and fantasy novels. All these feelings were overwhelming to me – the way I could be so passionate about Kian one minute and then so in love with Logan the next – the way my emotions could tumble over themselves like snowballs in an avalanche, beyond my control, beyond my power.
When I was fifteen I remembered thinking that I was so grown up, so above the petty confidences and insecurities growing like moss in the locker room of Gregory High School. Ever since I had turned sixteen, I had started feeling younger than ever – or at least that the world was so much bigger, so full of feeling and passion and contradiction that I could barely make myself out, let alone the identity of my beloved.
Hormones, my mother would have said.
“Logan,” I whispered.
“What is it, Bree?” He had by now finished preparing the roast, and had ceded the job of cooking it properly to Rodney, who was working extra hard to make up for his unchivalrous acts earlier.
“I don't want you to be in danger again,” I said. “I want you to go home with my mother to Gregory – and stay out of trouble.”
“I don't mind trouble,” said Logan. “I mind being away from you.”
“Please...” I said. And I knew what I had to say; I looked up. “I don't want to feel responsible for you. And...” This part was harder to say. “I don't want to feel like...this is all moving so fast...”
I thought I loved him, but I didn't want to force myself to be sure just yet. And if Logan risked his life for me again, I didn't want this to bind me to him romantically. I couldn't ask him to take risks for me out of love, when my own feelings were so nebulous, so confused. I didn't want to lie to him.
“You don't have to rescue me,” I concluded miserably, trying to find a way to give voice to my feelings. “I care for you – as a friend – so much – and as more...I think...but this is happening so fast. And I don't want you to feel obligated – I don't want to feel...”
“Obligated?” said Logan, cutting me off with just a hint of bitterness. He sighed deeply. “Bree – I'm not that kind of guy. If I do risk my life for you – it's because I care about you, because I believe in you. Not because I want anything in return. Even if you didn't feel anything for me – as hard as that would be for me, I'd still be here beside you, risking my life for you, fighting for you.”
He cupped his face with my hand.
“I do feel things for you,” I said. “But I don't want to start something in a situation like this...not fully...not yet...”
“I understand,” said Logan.
“And I can't let you get tortured because of me again!”
“I'd do it all over again,” said Logan. “And not because you kissed me afterward – although it was so – so – worth it. But because I love you. You don't even know how much. And I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, Bree.”
His words warmed me; his words scared me. I was overcome by the beauty of his love; at the same time, I was wary of it. How could I feel the same way about him – or about Kian – or about anyone else, for that matter – when I was still trying to figure out how to get to the Winter Court without being waylaid by pixies or kewpies or any other creature out of Causabon's Mythology.
“Thank you, Logan,” I said. I pressed his hand to mine and realized that it was wet with tears – both mine and his. He knew me so well – it touched me so deeply that my soul felt as if it were being torn open, rent apart by this storm of feelings. “It means a lot to me.”
Logan squeezed my hand. “I am so grateful for the chance to get to know you,” he said. “You were the one thing that made the Land Beyond the Crystal River bearable to me. When I had to go back and forth...I always looked forward to seeing you.”
He kissed my forehead.
“Let's keep things...let's take them slow for now,” I said, breathing deeply. “I don't want to rush anything.”
“I won't rush you,” said Logan, and his voice contained so much love, so much passion, so much pain, that the tears came faster from me, now. He knew me so well, I thought; he knew me better than I knew myself. He was loving; he was giving me space and time to figure out what I was feeling, what was
going on.
We caught sight of Shasta and Rodney in the moonlight. They were sitting by the campfire, kissing passionately as if there were no cares for each other but each other; they were in love, they were happy. Everything was so easy for them, I thought. Yes – there were the differences and difficulties borne out of their opposing factions, but that was circumstance. Summer or Winter, they knew how they felt; they knew what they wanted. Everything was so straightforward for them. But for us it was complicated; for us it was harder. My feelings were a tangle of complications.
How could I bring Logan into this? How could I bring myself into this?
I curled up after our meal and waited for day to come properly, to allow us to set off on our way. I waited for my mother, my family, my life to begin anew. I waited for deliverance; the hours seemed endless.
Chapter 10
It took us another two days of travel to reach the Winter Court. Had we gone in a straight line, going as quickly as possible, it should only have taken us about a day, but the four of us were careful. We knew we had Pixies on our trail, and Feyland was filled with other dangers as well. We were wary of bandits, of kewpies that could be lying in wait for us, or of rogue fairy knights from either side looking to score bounty. Could this be the same land I dreamed about in my childhood, I wondered? The Feyland of which I had so often dreamed for sixteen years had been a beautiful place – of great awe and great magic – but it had not been so perilous, so filled with evil. This land had been broken, I realized, battered and ravaged by war. The Pixies had gained power in the absence of a clear fairy leader. Lawlessness raged all around us. And so Rodney, Logan, Shasta and I had to travel with great care, casting magic glamours to conceal us from any potential enemies, traveling at night and sleeping during the day, always with one of us keeping watch in case the Pixies should be able to pass beyond the boundaries of the magical perimeter we had created for safety. Rodney and Shasta slept next to each other, tangled and twisted with immeasurable passion in each other's arms. But Logan and I had more trouble trying to figure out what to do. I was sure that I wanted to take things slowly, carefully; I didn't want to rush into anything. And yet no matter how far apart we placed our mattresses, no matter how much space we left between us as we settled down, I found that I always woke up curled into his arms, my body and soul drawn towards him as we slept, towards his warmth, his protective arms.
When we woke up, we'd blush and sigh and try to keep our tenuous friendship – knowing all the while how we felt about each other – but I could not deny the beauty of waking up in Logan's arms, feeling his heart beat against my cheek, and feeling the rhythms of my heart move to match his.
At last on the third day of travel we reached the Winter Court. It was an awesome palace, just as I imagined it would be, with gothic stone spires of gray and black and white reaching up into the heavens, clouded with snow. It cast an enormous stormy shadow on us as we entered.
“So, this is home,” I said to Shasta, my voice trembling only a little. Was Kian there, I wondered, and my heart gave a little leap.
Shasta nodded and squeezed Rodney's hand. They had decided that they would do the honorable thing and present themselves to the Queen as lovers, and ask for her mercy and good will. Lying to her, in the end, would only have angered her further; she would have found out in the end, and neither of them wanted to risk the Queen's wrath for any perceived disrespect.
“I'm scared,” I admitted.
“Me too,” said Shasta.
But we went inside anyway, Shasta commanding the guards to let us pass. “I am not a hostage,” she announced. “These are my friends, not my captors. They have escorted me safely, and rescued me from the threat of the dire Pixies. You will treat them as you would treat any high-ranking knight in the Winter Court.” The easy imperiousness with which she took on her role as Princess impressed me even as it frightened me; she switched so casually between the giggles and gestures of a teenage girl and the chilling regality of a chrysalis monarch.
“The Queen will see you now,” said one guard.
So, this was the Winter Queen – the woman willing to send her own son to jail if he failed the royal expectations placed upon him. I could not say I was overly eager to come face to face with her.
We were marched into the throne room – it was made of blue ice, and the throne constructed of glassy snowflakes.
The Winter Queen sat before us, pale and upright. She was as beautiful as her children – perhaps even more so – for in her eyes there was the experience and wisdom of all her years on the throne, and her features had took on lines of maturity that even Shasta and Kian could not match in all their youthful beauty, as glorious as they were. She had dark brown hair that framed her porcelain face like so many yards of velvet ribbon; her eyes were blue and pierced straight through me. The Summer Queen had been maternal, if harsh; the Winter Queen seemed implacable in her cool serenity.
She turned first to Shasta. “I am very disappointed in you, Shasta,” said the Winter Queen. “Getting yourself kidnapped. I thought I taught you better than that. A princess should be able to defend herself – not needing to be rescued by knights like these.” She waved her hand dismissively towards us. “How are we to be a safe kingdom if our women are not as strong and as able to fight as our men? You getting yourself captured puts a burden on all of us.”
Shasta bowed down deeply to the floor. “Your Highness,” she began. “I am sorry for what I have done. I was foolish and careless, and this will only motivate me to work harder – to ensure that I stay as strong and as well-equipped to fight as befits any princess of this realm. But I must ask your favor. For this knight, Rodney, has treated me always with the utmost kindness and respect. He has protected me through the many ills I have encountered...”
“A true princess of the realm,” said the Queen, “should not need protection.”
“If I may,” Rodney cut in with as much respect as he could manage in his ardor. “Your Highness, I beg you.”
“You may,” said the Queen, with a faint twinkle of amusement.
“She protected me just as often, your Highness,” said Rodney. “My devotion to her is at once enormous respect for her capacities as a fighter and as a fairy, and yet desire to do what I can – whether it be protection or service – to better her life. I am as grateful for her help in our escape from the Pixie Kingdom as I am for her beauty, or for her intelligence, or for her presence beside me now. And such a creature can only come from the most august of mothers.” His speech would have been more convincing had he not tripped on the bow.
“I see you are devoted,” said the Queen. “But you are a Summer knight, are you not?”
“I am that,” said Rodney, “but my heart is with your daughter – and Summer or Winter aside, I offer her all my devotion as her servant on my fairy honor.”
“You speak well, Knight,” said the Queen. “If boldly. But my daughter has disappointed me. I will not have her needing to be saved again, although I thank you for your service.”
“Please, your Highness,” Rodney dropped to his knees again. “May I stay to serve her? I will not ask the honor of protecting her. I ask only to do what she requires of me.” He let his forehead touch the floor in a mark of respect.
“You may stay for the time being,” said the Queen. “I shall decide later what to do with you.” But I could see a hint of smile in her eyes.
“Now you,” she turned to me. “Breena, you have fulfilled your part of the deal. It is my turn to do something for you.”
She gave the sign, and a troop of guards came out of a door on the right side of the throne room. I caught sight of Kian at their head – looking more beautiful than ever in full military garb – and I nearly gasped; I could feel Logan stiffening behind me. But before I could take in his presence I saw who it was that he was leading.
I had waited for her for so long, missed her for so long, tried to push out the pain from my mind to carry on, but she was there – an
d with her I was again a child, and she was my mother.
I ran to her and buried my face in her neck, hugging her so tightly that she gasped.
“Mommy!”
She began stroking my hair. “Bree – darling Bree – I'm so sorry...”
There were tears in my eyes. I could see Shasta looking enviously at me out of the corner of her eye, standing straight up with royal poise, and I realized that she must have missed her mother, too, frozen away in the Summer Court, and that she longed to be able to embrace her with as much fervor as I was embracing my mother now. I felt lucky; I felt blessed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, my darling, yes.” My mother kissed me on both cheeks. “The Winter Queen has been a wise and a generous host.”
Perhaps it was better for my mother to be with the Winter Queen than with the Summer Queen, her rival. I remembered how I had feared the Winter Queen in earlier days; I did not fear her now. I respected both of the rulers – both proud, strong women trying to keep their countries together in wartime.
“Very well,” said the Winter Queen. “It seems that the exchange has been completed. Our work here is done.”
I saw Kian staring at me out of the corner of my eye, his face pale and breathless. I could feel his eyes follow the curves and lines of my body; I turned away and I could still feel him there, and I too could not breathe. I tried to ignore it – I would speak to him. I knew – but for now I did not know what to say. I could not tell him that I was going away forever – with Logan, with my mother, to the Land Beyond the Crystal River where no fairy love could survive.
“I think,” said the Queen. “That I would like to attend a ball this evening.” She gave us a wry smile. “In celebration of my daughter's safe return, and of a successful liaison between the two fairy courts.” She turned to the guards. “You will arrange this, yes?”
They kneeled to the floor, struck the floor with their spears, and headed off in unison. Kian followed them, giving me one last lingering look as he did so. My face was red – I could not hide it – and Logan stiffened beside me. I knew he wanted to be noble to Kian – they respected each other, after all, as soldiers if nothing else – but I could feel his jealousy seeping through his politesse.
