by Amy Bearce
The waitress, tired already with hair half-falling out of its bun, brought the food to the table with such rapidity it was clear they knew who Sierra and Nell were. The waitress’s eyes traced along the bruise on Sierra’s face but then jerked her gaze away. Sierra guessed she looked about right for the daughter of a dark alchemist who sold not only Flight, but all manner of poisons.
Sierra resisted working for Jack, but outside Port Ostara, not everyone knew that. But what everyone this close to home did know was twofold: Jack Quinn was her father and she stood to inherit his business one day. They didn’t believe she wouldn’t take over his alchemy business. In the ports, master alchemists held lives in their hands, and who’d turn down that kind of power? They couldn’t comprehend what it did to keepers to abuse their fairies; people didn’t grasp the sort of connection they shared. Corbin shared that same bond with his queen, so he understood. But no one else except Phoebe could figure out why she refused her father’s ambitions so staunchly.
The waitress’s fear stung. Sierra wanted to scream. Too upset to eat, she stomped outside, fuming at having her father’s choices thrown in her face yet again. She’d leave them both. She’d run away and shake Nell off her heels. Losing Corbin would be awful, but maybe Sierra could still find the old fairy keeper on her own.
She wasn’t fast enough. Footsteps pounded behind her and she whirled, ready to fight Nell if she had to, but her hands went slack when she saw Corbin standing there, chest heaving from his short sprint.
“Don’t go,” he begged, hands wide, beseeching. “I know you; I know what you’re thinking. But we need you. I need you to help me find my queen! I don’t want to do it alone.”
In all her anger, Sierra had sort of forgotten that part. She felt bad for not thinking of her sweet friend. She didn’t want to betray him. But…
“How can you stand it?” she asked. “You know what my family is, and now it’s following us. Your family is a bunch of healers, by all the stars. Now we’re helping out Jack in spite of ourselves.”
Corbin said with uncharacteristic practicality, “They’d get it anyway, Sierra. You know that better than most, I guess. No one will stop an addict. I’ve seen some of the same people coming to my parents over and over for healings, people who can’t stop using elixirs or ale until they’re sick. You can’t help what your father did to you. But this is bigger than that, bigger than them. Without our fairies, who knows what will happen to our towns? We need their magic. And I love my queen. Please? For me?”
Sierra hung her head. She wanted to run far, far away, but she couldn’t leave, not like this. Working with Nell and helping Jack make money from his evil elixir burned like acid, but Phoebe was waiting. They had no time to lose. Pride had to be eaten, even if it was like chewing shoe leather. Phoebe was worth it.
“I’m only going back in because I’m starving.” Her tone was petulant. She was hungry, it was true, but Corbin would know that wasn’t why she was going back in the tavern, back to a world she hated.
“Thanks, Sierra,” he said softly, tugging her braid again.
She shook her head, giving a sigh, and they walked back into the hotbed of beer, ale, and Flight.
The fish was fried golden and so hot it burned Sierra’s fingertips. Salty potato fries tingled on her tongue and fresh water helped wash away the morning’s hike. They wiped grease from their chins and left without paying. Nell wouldn’t let them. Said it would set a bad precedent for Jack. But Sierra imagined whatever Nell handed over was worth more to the tavern than three plates of fried fish. Tavern owners often marked up the price and pocketed a little of their own. Sierra tried not to let it bother her. There was nothing she could do, and she had a hard enough job already.
She tightened her straps on her pack and said, “Let’s make up some time.”
Moving brought relief. Every step was one closer to freeing Phoebe.
A storm was coming; Sierra could smell it as they left the fishing village. The green scent of rain rode on the wind that picked up until Nell’s braid lifted from her shoulders as it gusted. Ever the professional, she unstrung her walnut bow as they walked, tucking the string safely in her bag. A wet bowstring was a useless bowstring. Corbin’s old keeper lived a short distance beyond the next port, about a two hour hike along the rocky shoreline. Sierra stared at the clouds rolling in, their bottoms bulging black. She sighed, suspecting she’d be saying goodbye to dry clothes soon. The best they could do was hope they were near some shelter when the clouds burst.
aturally, shelter was too far for Sierra, Nell and Corbin to reach before the rain came down. It sprinkled at first before they could reach even the outskirts of Port Beltane, the drops lightly dotting the ground. Here, the lane was solid, packed red earth. The rain made the road look like it was bleeding. At least it rarely sleeted this close to the coast, even in winter.
The three of them pressed forward, Sierra’s mind turning to Phoebe and what she might be experiencing at home. Soon, the drizzle became a heavy downpour, the kind that made you squint to see more than a few feet ahead. Water soaked through their clothing and left their skin chilled and wet. Sierra’s wonderful fur boots squished as she walked along the dirt path that became slippery and slick as wet glass. Remaining upright took intense concentration.
Nell scouted ahead, looking for any place to get them out of the downpour. Stopping for anything made Sierra want to gnaw through her leather pack straps, but she was at the mercy of the weather now. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.
Corbin slipped and slid along the melted path, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Even in this horrible moment, he could find something to laugh at. Finally, Sierra saw an outline against the rain, waving them forward. She double-timed it to where Nell stood, pointing to a little overhang near where the cliffs began by the shoreline. Waves crashed against the rocks below, and Sierra felt uncomfortable being so close to the cliff’s edge. Still, there was nothing else. The trees were so naked even their limbs didn’t do a thing to block the pellets of rain that had picked up speed and now stung as they hit.
Thunder crashed around them and solved any question about trying to find a different hiding spot. Into the cave they went. It wasn’t even really a cave. It was more like an outsized overhang, but Sierra decided to think of the space as a tiny cave, as it seemed safer that way.
The trio packed in the way fisherman packed their fish in barrels. Corbin was in the middle―Sierra wasn’t sure if that was intentional. If it was, she wondered if he was wisely keeping her and Nell separated, or if he wanted to be next to Nell. Sierra had to face a little away from them, standing somewhat sideways; otherwise, the run-off from the top of the opening would pour down her sleeve. The sheet of rain was five inches in front of her face, even with them backed all the way in. Still, crowding into this tiny spot beat walking on muddy roads in such a deluge. The steam of their breath hung in the chilly air, little puffs floating past the cave for a moment before the wind and rain slashed them apart.
Lightning flashed nearby, and a boom of thunder made the ground shiver. Sierra froze. It felt like a quake. A quake under a tiny shelf of dirt and grass, near the edge of a sea cliff. Tension rose in her as fast as the wind blew. Corbin’s hand dangled close to her, a beacon. She reached out and grabbed it. He knew her fears, knew how long the loss of that family in the quake had haunted her. They had spoken of it many times afterward.
“It’s only the thunder, Sierra,” he said.
Sierra wasn’t so sure. There’d been so many quakes lately. She kept her body poised, ready to dive out of the cave, but as the thunder continued to crash, the ground trembled only slightly. No jarring cracks, no sudden drops, no roar as loud as a dragon suddenly descending from the sky and breathing fire.
“Is that your keeper mark then, Corbin? I’ve never seen one this close.” Nell’s voice was magnified in the tiny alcove. It sounded like she was whispering right in Sierra’s ear instead of Corbin’s.
> His body stiffened next to Sierra’s, and she looked over her shoulder at them. She saw Nell’s finger right next to his skin, pulling down the neck of his jacket slightly, her eyes riveted to the back of his neck. Corbin wore his shaggy black hair cropped short enough at the neck that his mark was easily visible. He nodded and tilted his head so she could get a better view. Sierra gritted her teeth.
Nell would never get that response from Sierra. Her long hair kept her mark mostly covered even when braided, and she was glad. Their keeper marks looked pretty much the same though: a pale pink birthmark that looked like a set of fairy wings imprinted right at the base of the neck. Nothing spectacular: solid, pale pink wings, rather plain. His had more orange than Sierra’s, but then, his skin was naturally darker than hers, too. If she didn’t know better, Sierra would say it was a random birthmark. But when everyone with the same birthmark in the same place ended up with the same kind of magical creature coming calling, it ceased to be a coincidence.
“It must be pretty special, knowing you have that kind of important purpose,” Nell whispered, voice grudging but less so than usual.
She lowered her hand, and Corbin’s breath let out like a sigh. The warmth of his breath brushed Sierra’s skin, causing her hair to tickle her cheek. Sierra dropped his hand and faced away again, staring out into the rain. When could they get out of there?
This was too small a space for all three of them.
y the time the rain stopped, night had fallen. They had another hour hike in the dark, but they were unwilling to sleep on the cold, wet ground. When they finally stumbled into Port Beltane, they found the first inn. It didn’t have three rooms open, but two were available.
Nell interrupted Sierra’s own mental planning. “I’ve got orders to bunk wherever you go, Sierra.”
Ah yes. Enforcer was Nell’s title for a reason. So she and Sierra retired to a six-by-six room with a smoking fireplace putting out little heat. One thin straw pallet rested on the floor, not even raised off the ground. Sierra’s at home wasn’t either, but she had expected something more for the price of two silver coins.
This was her first stay at an inn, though, so maybe she had imagined it wrong all these years. A small oil lamp hung on the wall of their room, and she didn’t miss that the door had a bolt lock on the inside. She was glad to see it. At home, she never had to worry about someone breaking in. Jack’s reputation was enough to make any thief think twice.
Nell unloaded her bows and arrows, her knives, her sword, then began restringing the walnut bow, ignoring Sierra entirely. Sierra sat on the corner of the bed, peeling off her wet socks and boots. She set them on a flat rack next to the fire, hoping for the best. Nell dried and polished her weapons with a professionalism that surprised Sierra, but she realized it shouldn’t have. Nell was good at what she set her mind to. It was too bad her mind was set on following Jack’s commands.
Nell put away her weaponry, except the sword, which she laid across her lap. She peeled off the outer layers of her clothing, but she was still in day-clothes, not pajamas. Sierra had no intention of putting on a shift out here either, though. Nell sat on the floor next to the door. The silence between the girls became tangible.
“You might as well fall asleep,” Nell said. “I’ll sleep right here next to the door.”
Tired of feeling like a prisoner, Sierra snapped, “Look, I have to get a queen back to Jack. It doesn’t serve me any purpose to run away now. Do you think I’d do that to Phoebe?”
She glared at Nell, who already looked like a woman even though she was only fifteen. Sierra felt like a scrawny little girl by comparison.
Nell matched Sierra’s glare, but nodded once in acknowledgement, saying, “Fine. But I still need to keep guard. If I let anything happen to you, your father will kill me.”
She wasn’t joking, either. He didn’t have another fairy keeper waiting in the wings, after all, and buying nectar from others was pricey. He’d probably never try to lure Corbin, something Sierra was thankful for. Even if Corbin could be swayed, which she doubted, Jack wouldn’t want to risk drawing attention from Corbin’s family. As healers, they were some of the few people who wanted to enforce the laws to shut down the illegal production of elixirs like Flight. They were influential enough to cause damage too. None of Corbin’s fairy nectar went to Flight; it went to improving people’s lives. When properly prepared, fairy nectar helped people sleep during surgeries and relax during treatments.
If Sierra were in that situation, she wondered if she would resent her keeper status so much. Honestly? Yes, because there was still no choice, and she hated being told what to do. Corbin overlooked her role in her father’s business because he knew she had no choice. She wouldn’t do it if she had one.
Still, the girls’ conversation seemed to have lessened the weight in the room, and Sierra was able to lie down without too much awkwardness. Nell could sit there if she wanted. Sierra needed rest. She tried to force her mind to stay on their plans for tomorrow, on talking to the old keeper. But as she rolled on her side, her mind was full of Phoebe, her soft and steady breath in the darkness, her limbs wiggly and then finally still as she drifted off to sleep. Tears blurred Sierra’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Phoebe wasn’t here, but Sierra had a chance to save her.
And she would.
In the morning, Sierra awoke to total darkness. For a split second, Sierra wondered where she was, before her memories came flooding back. When she sat up, though, she moaned with exhaustion. It was tempting to pretend none of this was real, just for a bit longer… Her eyes drifted shut but only for a second. Phoebe. Her face flashed behind Sierra’s eyes and she was up, out of bed, ready to pound on Corbin’s door to wake him.
No windows in the room, not for the price they paid, but Sierra didn’t need the sun to tell her when to start the day. She’d always risen at dawn. Nothing to do with being a keeper, though. Corbin would sleep until noon if he could. She’d had to pry him out of bed when they had gone mushroom hunting at dawn. Even now they had to beat on his door to wake him up.
The innkeeper served delicious wraps of bread, full of potatoes and egg seasoned with a smoky spice Sierra had never had before. The zest made her lips tingle. She licked her fingers and allowed herself a tiny slice of joy at the complex flavor of the food. For this one moment, she was glad Nell was here, with Jack’s coins. Without her, they’d be washing pans and wasting time to pay for their breakfast, assuming they had been able to make a deal for a room at all. Now they could make fast tracks to the old keeper’s home. Nell was serving some purpose, at least.
Sierra thought it might be hard to track the keeper, but it wasn’t. Corbin knew where he lived, thank all the stars, and led them straight there, reaching it by lunch. They didn’t even stop to eat, but nibbled on bread and dried venison from their packs as they walked.
The keeper’s home was on the far edge of the small village that clung to the edge of the busier port town. Most keepers lived that way. Fairies needed to be in nature, and even though keepers built them wooden boxes for a home, the fairies could taste all the flowers around the fields near their hatch. There was no forest near this man’s home, though. They’d been following the coastline, so there was still the steady roar of the ocean in the far distance, the tang of salt in the air. But here, the ground rose away from the edge of the ocean, leaving behind the jagged edge of the rocky cliff overlooking the port town. They followed the trail as it wound up the sea cliff away from the busy port activity. A few blossoms of purple sea clover and frilly white water mint dotted the ground, adding their sharp, crisp tang to the salty air. When they reached the top of the bluff, the land atop sprawled before them flat and bare, full of sand, tall grasses, and chunky rocks. Fairies lived here? In an open place like this?
“I thought fairies preferred the forest,” she said to Corbin.
“Oh, no,” he told her, leaning closer, eyes bright.
Sierra felt a fairy lecture on the horizon. Good thing she
needed one.
“Fairies can live in any kind of environment, really, except maybe the desert. But even deserts have cactuses with flowers. As long as there are flowers and some other kind of vegetable matter to eat, they’ll be okay. Some get used to a certain kind of habitat and won’t leave the area. I think they become tied to the land. Our fairies are like that, I think, because they’re so much healthier when we give them wild mushrooms from around home. But wild fairies supposedly came from the Skyclad Mountains originally. Whole sections of that mountain range are just rocks and grass, not a tree in sight. Snow covers the top for a lot of the year, too.”
“Really?” Sierra asked. She had heard about the year-round snow-covered mountaintops, but she hadn’t believed the stories. Near the coast, the temperatures never dropped low enough for snow to stick around for long. The Skyclad Mountains were where grumpy adults threatened to send misbehaving children, as in, “Go to bed, or I’ll take you to the Skyclad Mountains and leave you there in the snow for the dragons to get.” The possibility of that part of their stories being true made her anxious that other, more dangerous parts might be, too.
“It’s true,” Corbin assured her. “Keeper Hannon told me.”
Ah, then the information was trustworthy. It seemed like a good omen Keeper Hannon had already shared such knowledge with one of them.
The keeper’s little house sat on top of the cliff, all by itself, a jaunty shade of blue with a roof that looked like a giant dropped it on slightly off-center. The house was small but tidy, with a row of red daisies under each window. Corbin walked to the door and knocked, but no one answered.
He jogged around the side of the house and when he returned, Sierra’s stomach plummeted. His face was as white as the foam on the surf below, and his brown eyes looked nearly black.
