by Anthea Sharp
“Can’t you show yourself?” Jennet asked. “I thought you were free to move between the courts.”
“That I am!” The sprite leapt from behind an ornately carved trunk, did a handspring, and landed lightly in front of them. His eyes were bright with mischief and merriment. “I shall escort you to the feet of the Bright King himself.”
“Are you sure you aren’t going to just disappear at a crucial moment?” Tam asked
Jennet gave him a look. “Come on - we have to trust Puck. I’d hate to lose our way, after getting so close.”
“Make haste,” Puck said. “The king’s patience only extends so far.”
The sprite pursed his lips and let out a shrill whistle. An answering skree came echoing from the metallic trees. A moment later, an owl with a pale, heart-shaped face and dun feathers swooped low over their heads and landed beside Puck.
He jumped up onto its back and grabbed a leather strap attached between the bird’s wings. With a flurry of feathers, the owl launched itself back into the air and began winging away.
“Follow us,” Puck called from his perch. “Quickly!”
“Classic,” Tam said. “At this rate, we’ll get lost, anyway.”
She didn’t bother answering, just strode out, trying to keep the pale shape of the owl in sight. They dipped and twisted between the trees, and it was all she and Tam could do to keep up. Ahead, Puck and the owl went into a dive, then straightened up into a smooth glide. She wouldn’t be surprised to see the sprite pilot the bird upside-down, like a trick g-boarder. Though probably his ride wouldn’t be much amused.
The light grew brighter still, not quite sunlight, but nearly. She shaded her eyes and peered at the roof - though it felt more like the sky. Something was glowing up there, and they were getting closer to it with every step. The vaulted trees shimmered and clinked, and the warm air wafted the scent of roses.
“Almost there” she murmured.
She looked up again, at a break in the trees, and saw an enormous, luminous pearl suspended high overhead on a silver chain. The white radiance was mixed with touches of scarlet, as though a live coal - or stolen bits of the sun - smoldered in the heart of that brightness.
“That’s a serious light fixture,” Tam said.
Puck brought his owl to earth in a smooth swoop, then dismounted. The owl leaped back into flight, winging away between the glimmering trees.
“Attend,” the sprite said. “Yonder clearing is the center of the Bright King’s court.”
He gestured, and Jennet bit her lip. So close. At least nothing had challenged them to mortal combat - yet. Slowly, she walked forward, Tam right beside her.
As they approached the clearing, she could make out glimmering figures, hear their sparkling laughter. In the very center rose a dais with a throne upon it. And on that throne sat a figure, shining so brightly she could hardly look.
Three more steps brought them into the clearing. They had reached the Bright Court of Feyland.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - THE BRIGHT COURT
Pixies flew back and forth, stitching the air with brightness. Beneath one of the trees a long-limbed dryad sat, plucking the strings of a harp. The sweet, yearning melody pierced through Jennet like the echo of some precious thing, lost.
On either side of the throne, fey-folk reclined on couches fashioned of velvet and silk. Ethereal-winged women, more of the gnarled creatures who had guarded the path, a capering gnome - all watched them with curious eyes. Curious, but not unwelcoming, unlike the denizens of the Dark Court.
Then a voice spoke from the dais, deep and rich, like sandalwood and gold. “What bogles do you bring before me, Puck?”
The glow surrounding the throne began to fade, and Jennet risked a peek at the king. He was tall, his pale hair swept back by a circlet of pure gold. Piercing silver eyes surveyed them from above sharp cheekbones. His face held strength, and an otherworldly beauty that made her shiver.
She dropped her gaze to the throne, then let out a relieved breath to see that it was made of the metallic foliage. Plus, the whole dais was covered with glimmering grasses. The ingredient they needed for the faerie ointment.
“Your highness.” Puck swept an improbably elegant bow. “I bring two mortals who would ask a boon of you. They have passed many tests to stand before you, and I pray you grant them what they seek.”
“Come closer,” the king said, beckoning to Jennet and Tam.
Puck moved to the side, making a place for himself on one of the velvet couches, between two of the faerie maidens.
When they reached the foot of the dais, Tam made a slight bow and Jennet dipped her knees in a passable curtsey. They weren’t here to fight the king - at least, she hoped not.
“Ah,” the king said, an amused note in his tone. “Mortals, yes. And familiar with the Realm, if I am not mistaken. Tell me, how fares my shadow-sister, the Dark Queen?”
Jennet swallowed. “Um… well enough.”
If you didn’t count the fact that she and Tam had ruined the queen’s plans to open a gateway into the mortal world.
“Step closer, human girl,” the Bright King said.
Almost against her will, she stepped up onto the dais. The king’s gaze was warm upon her, his eyes deep wells of sparkling magic. She took another step. Her heart hammered her ribs, excitement and fear blending into a dizzy rush through her blood.
“Quite fair, indeed,” the king said. “Maiden, would you grace my halls?”
“Hey!” Tam cried. “Leave her alone!”
She felt a wrench on her arm as Tam pulled her away. She stumbled off the dais, but Tam steadied her, his hands solid on her shoulders.
“You ok?” he asked with a worried tilt to his mouth.
“I... yeah.” She glanced up at the king, who was watching them impassively. “Are you sure that was a good idea? I mean, we need his help.”
Tam’s face shuttered. “Not at that price.”
The Bright King let out a long breath, and the gemmed trees on either side of the clearing swayed. Behind him, the pixies hovered - poised to attack? Jennet fingered the leather wrappings on the handle of her dagger. No, if it came to a fight, she’d use her illusion power again. But she had a feeling they had to find another solution here.
“Tam, he doesn’t even know what we want,” she said.
The king leaned forward. “Of course I do,” he said in his deep voice. “You want what every mortal entering the Realm wants. Magic. Power. And you may have it - for a price.”
“Actually,” Tam said, “we only want a handful of grass from your throne.”
The king raised his elegant brows. “Anything taken from the Bright Court is imbued with both magic and power. Your request is no different from all the others.”
“What others?” Jennet asked. “What did you give the Royal one?”
Names had power, and she knew better than to tell the king Roy’s real-life name.
The king smiled, something sly in his eyes. The pixies laughed, a sound both sweet and unsettling, like chiming bells that were slightly out-of-tune.
“The Realm holds its secrets,” he said. “But if you come and dwell with me for a year and a day, Fair Jennet, I will tell you anything you would like to know. Anything.”
Tam’s hand went to his sword and he made a low noise in his throat.
“No thanks,” Jennet said. “We’ll just bargain for the grass, ok?”
“A pity.”
The king beckoned to one of his fey handmaidens, who rose, light as a breath, and winged up to the throne. She bent her head close as he whispered something to her, then laughed and made him a bow.
“As my liege wills,” she said, her voice clear as mountain water. “I shall return, anon.”
She took a handful of bright air, pulling it around herself like a cloak. Between one heartbeat and the next, she was gone.
“Neat trick,” Tam said.
The king waved his hand, and a golden platter appeared at his elbow.
Upon it was a basin of white liquid and a loaf of bread.
“Would you take refreshment, while we wait?” he asked.
“No,” Jennet said quickly.
Her old book held tales of mortals trapped in the Realm of Faerie after they ate a morsel of food or sipped a drop of drink. She glanced at Tam.
He nodded at her, then looked up at the king. “We’re not hungry.”
“What?” The king’s expression darkened. “Do you spurn my hospitality?”
Overhead, the pearl light sent out a spray of reddish sparks. Puck scrambled to his feet and leaped over to stand with Jennet and Tam.
“Your majesty,” the sprite said, “they are but mortals - young and foolish. Surely you cannot take offense at their oddities.”
The king folded his arms, his face severe. “I am no longer amused at your presence, Bold Tamlin and Fair Jennet. You have told me what you seek. Now I will offer my bargain in turn. For a handful of golden grass from my throne, you will give me something of equal weight and measure.”
“Um...” Tam said. “I don’t think we have anything like that.”
“Wait a sec,” she said. “It’s a riddle. We have to solve it in order to make the trade.”
Puck nodded at her, his eyes bright, but he remained silent. At least she was on the right track.
Tam leaned closer to her. “Great. So what do we have that’s of ‘equal weight and measure’ to some magical grass? I don’t trust this. It feels like a setup.”
“All of Feyland is a setup, Tam, but we need to make this work. Marny’s safety depends on it.” She pressed her lips together. “So, start thinking.”
The fletching of her arrows? Maybe if she unraveled part of her clothing?
“Right.” His brown hair fell in front of his eyes as he dipped his head. “I’m not wearing anything remotely close to grass-like - and my armor doesn’t have pockets. Maybe we can summon something.”
“I don’t think so - the king wouldn’t accept anything made in Feyland.”
“Jen.” Frustration seeped through Tam’s voice. “Everything here is made in Feyland - we’re just controlling avatars that are created from the pixels of this place.”
“Are you sure about that?” She turned to face him. “Remember when you first made your character. Did you choose the eye and hair color, the body type? Did you pick out a name?”
“Yeah - the usual character creation.”
“Except that it’s not. Somehow I don’t think you chose the name Bold Tamlin. And I bet you didn’t select green eyes, either. I know a lot has happened to us in-game, but tell me if I’m wrong.”
There was a stark look in his eyes now, as though he’d been able to forget the dark power of Feyland while they played. But she’d just ripped that illusion away.
“Ok. You’re right.” He drew in a long breath. “I still don’t see how that changes anything.”
“Well…” She was thinking through it as she spoke. “The queen was able to take a part of me, using my avatar. And we both know about injuries carrying over. So, our characters have a connection to our real-world bodies.” She tugged on a strand of her hair. The answer was so close - she could almost taste it.
He stilled, his eyes on her hand. “That’s it. Our hair. We can trade our hair for the grass.”
“Oh, well puzzled,” Puck said. He made a quick cartwheel, then leaped onto the king’s dais. “Have the mortals riddled it out well enough, your majesty?”
“Nearly so,” the king said.
His expression no longer held the tint of anger. The dark clouds had rolled away, the imminence of the storm dissolved.
With a gust of rose-scented breeze, the king’s handmaiden appeared beside the throne. She held a pair of silver scissors in one hand, and in the other, two finely-worked golden boxes.
“Alright,” Tam said. “I agree to trade a handful of my hair for the grass from your throne. Your majesty.” He bowed.
The king laughed, like sparks of sunlight reflected on the water. “Very courtly of you, brave knight. But no. Your dun tresses will not satisfy. I will only trade gold for gold.”
“But - ”
“It’s ok,” Jennet said. She stepped forward and dipped her knees again in a half-curtsey. “I will offer a lock of my hair in exchange for some grass from your throne.”
“Jen,” Tam hissed at her. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t leave a part of yourself in Feyland again.”
“He won’t take your hair, Tam, much as you want him to. We have to make the ointment for Marny. This is the only way.”
Puck nodded vigorously at her words, then jabbed Tam in the leg with a sharp finger. “Quiet now,” he said. “The Bright King speaks.”
The king rose, his silken robes glimmering as though made of liquid light. He fixed his deep eyes on Jennet and she felt giddy, as if she’d sipped something extra-bubbly and dizzy-making.
“Bear witness, Bright Court of the fey,” he said, his voice rolling through the clearing. “These two mortals offer a bargain - a lock of Fair Jennet’s golden hair in trade for a handful of golden grass from my throne. It is a fair trade. I agree to it.”
Tam’s eyes were full of worried questions, but before he could say anything, the king continued.
“Puck, prove your use on this instance and bear the vessels of this bargain.”
The sprite nodded, then leaped into the air. Hovering beside the faerie maiden, he took the golden boxes, one in each narrow hand. The maiden smiled - like the sun seen through mist - and opened the ornate lids.
Music flurried through the clearing - the harper was now playing a lively jig. The watching fey-folk leaned forward, or took to the air for a better view, competing with the bright fire of the pixies.
Puck and the king’s handmaiden descended to stand, or hover in Puck’s case, just before Jennet and Tam. The tempo of the music increased, the harper now joined by a flute player weaving silvery sprays of notes into the tune.
“All is in readiness,” the king said. “Bold Tamlin, pluck you a handful of grass. Peaseblossom, shear you a lock of Fair Jennet’s hair. Mortals, prepare yourselves.”
Tam shot her a worried look. Yeah, she wasn’t too thrilled about it either, but it had to be done. She tried to ignore the wild beating of her heart.
“Ready,” she said.
The faerie maiden lifted a strand of Jennet’s hair with pale, delicate fingers. Tam went down on one knee and took hold of a tuft of grass. Snip - the silver shears cut effortlessly. There was a brief tearing sound, and Tam stood, brightness cupped in his palm.
“Together, now,” Puck said, holding up the boxes. “Place them inside, one to each.”
Human hand and fey deposited their treasures. There was a flash of bright light, a sudden quietude, and Jennet blinked. The boxes were both closed, their contents hidden, but she had no doubt the king would keep his word.
“It is a powerful binding,” Puck said, sounding subdued. “Use what you have won, posthaste, else you will find naught but a collection of dry leaves. Faerie gold will not last the night.”
He handed Jennet the box containing the faerie grass. The lid was closed, and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to open it just yet. Soon though - once they got back to the real world. The faerie maiden took the other container and returned to the king’s side.
“A fine bargain,” the king said, taking the box from his handmaiden. He stroked it with his fingers and gave Jennet a look she couldn’t decipher. “Now, mortals, farewell.”
The pearly light flared again, then deepened to a swirl of gold. Dizziness clenched Jennet’s stomach and the world tipped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE BRIGHT COURT
Tam swallowed hard as the queasy light surrounded him. The king was kicking them back into the real world, and he couldn’t say he was sorry. If he never entered another faerie court again, it would be too soon.
After a moment, the whirling stopped, and he could see Jennet’s gaming room th
rough the tinted screen of his sim helmet. In the chair beside him, Jennet stirred. He sat upright and pulled off his helmet.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
He hadn’t liked the way she acted around the Bright King. It reminded him of his own fascination with the midnight beauty of the Dark Queen - an enthrallment that had almost been his downfall. No way was he going to let Jennet succumb to the same thing, even if he had to hold her down and smear faerie ointment all over her eyelids.
“More than all right.” She thrust out her hand. “Look!”
There, in her palm, was the golden box holding the grass from the faerie king’s throne. It looked rich and strange, even in the opulence of the Carter’s fancy house. Knotwork designs scrolled around the edges, and the metal had a soft sheen that seemed completely out of place in the modern world.
“It looks like it should be in a museum,” he said.
“I know.” Still holding the box, she took her helmet off. Her shorn piece of hair just brushed her cheek. “Should we open it?”
“Let’s get everything together for the ointment, first.”
He fished in his pocket and pulled out the plastic bag, which was a little crumpled from riding around with him all morning. Inside, the four-leaf clover lay, limp as a dead thing. But it would still work - it had to.
Jennet gave the wilted clover a doubtful look. “All right. I have everything else in my bathroom. We can make the ointment in there.”
He glanced at the clock in the corner, hoping the day hadn’t flown while they were in-game. He’d hate to have to explain to Jennet’s dad why he was locked in the bathroom with her.
He blinked at the readout, then turned to Jennet. “Is your clock set right?”
“Of course.” She looked over to it, and her eyes widened. “Really? All of that only took an hour?”
“Time’s funny in-game, we both know that.” Though this was severely weirder than usual.
She let out a breath. “We have plenty of time to make the ointment and get back to Marny before school’s out. Come on.”
