by Anthea Sharp
She was in Feyland. For real, this time. A cold wave of dread washed over her.
“Welcome again to my court, Fair Jennet,” the king said. “You grace us with your mortal beauty.”
“How did I get here?” And how could she get out? She was afraid of the answer.
“As you used that which you took from my realm, so I summoned you.” He nodded to his handmaiden, who held up a dainty golden box.
The twin of that box was currently sitting on her bathroom counter. She swallowed, and tried to project a confidence she didn’t feel.
“Well, I appreciate the invite, but I can’t stay long.”
Laughter shimmered over the gathered fey-folk, and the pixies flew in mirthful spirals. She had the hollow feeling she didn’t have much choice in the matter. If only Tam were there, he would know what to do. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think.
The king had used his magic to bypass the interface of the game altogether - his power was growing way too strong. How was she going to get back? Despite the warm air, she felt chilled to the core.
“You will stay as long as I wish it. Am I not the ruler here? Come, Fair Jennet, and sit beside me.”
When he beckoned to her, her body rose, pulled to standing against her will.
“Hey!” she cried, “stop it.”
She tried to sit back down again, but it hurt - like ramming her head on a concrete wall. After a second, she gave up, tears of pain blurring her vision. The king smiled in satisfaction as he watched her walk to the dais and settle upon the golden grasses.
Ok, calm down. She took a shaky breath. Her body wasn’t under her control, but at least her mind was. And her mouth. Still, it wouldn’t do any good to insult the Bright King or rail against him. She had to play this smart, and that included not insulting her host. Yet, anyway. She didn’t even have any weapons, so challenging him to a duel was out. It would have to be a battle of wits.
So, what did she know that could help her? Anything about escaping the Realm of Faerie?
The fey-folk loved stories, if she remembered it right from her book. And somehow, Roy managed to freely come and go from the Bright Court - if only in his avatar form. Maybe Roy’s adventures would hold a clue to her freedom, if she could get the king to talk.
“Will you tell me a tale, your majesty?” she asked.
The king raised his thin brows. “A tale?”
“Yes. Have other mortals visited your court? I mean, recently?”
At that, he threw his head back and laughed, a crystalline sound that set the bejeweled trees clinking.
“A tale of a mortal in my court? Methinks you do not mean Burd Ellen, who visited nary a handful of moons ago - yet centuries in your fragile, mortal time.”
“Never heard of her.”
Although… the name tickled her memory. Something she’d read in her old book, a scrap of story or ballad. She pressed her lips together, trying to chase down the wisp of recognition. No luck - it was gone.
“Fair Jennet, I know it is the tale of the Royal one you seek. His reflection is in your eyes, though it is Bold Tamlin who holds your heart.”
She stiffened, as much as her body would let her. The king saw way too much. “Tell me about Roy.”
“Very well.” The king steepled his fingers together. “It was first a disturbance at the edge of my Realm. I sent one of my guards to investigate, and he returned with the description of a proud young mortal questing too near my lands. I sent the white stag out, to lure him closer. When the stag failed, the dryads aided me, closing the forest behind so that the path here was the only open way. And thus, the Royal one came to my court.”
She wanted to ask him how long ago, but any answer the king gave was useless in terms of human time. At a guess, a few months. Last summer, maybe, around the time she had gone to the Dark Court. It made a sort of twisted, symmetrical sense.
“He claimed to be a prince among humans,” the king continued, “and I took him at his word.”
Right. She blew a puff of air out her nostrils. Trust Roy to always claim the spotlight. Not that she was going to blow the whistle on him right now.
“Okay,” she said. “Did he make some kind of bargain with you?”
That was how it went in the stories - and you had to be very careful when dealing with the faeries. She frowned, wishing she could cross her arms. Seemed like she and Tam hadn’t been cautious enough, trading her hair for the faerie grass. Not as if they’d had a choice.
“Indeed, he did strike a bargain.” The king smiled, painfully bright, like sunlight reflected off a mirror. “In return for his assistance, I bestowed on him a small bit of faerie magic.”
“The power of glamour.”
The Bright King gave her a thoughtful look. “Indeed. I understand now why you desired the grass from my throne. But no matter. The Royal one has proven difficult, of late. Perhaps we shall see what he has to say for himself.”
“Wait,” she said, her stomach knotting. “If you mean to bring Roy here, it’s really not necessary.”
Not what she’d had in mind at all. Things were already way too messy without adding Roy Lassiter to the mix.
“Ah, but it is, Fair Jennet. Just as you carry the echo of the Dark Queen within you, the Royal one is marked by my magic, and he has a reckoning to give. Now, silence.”
The king raised his hands. Brilliance began to coalesce between his palms, shining brighter than the pearl suspended overhead. The king’s control of her body meant she couldn’t even turn her head away from the glare. It was so intense, she had to close her eyes.
The clearing grew quiet, the dryad’s plaintive harping dying away. Even the pixies stilled, their silvery chiming hushed by the greater magic of the king. There was a flash, scarlet behind Jennet’s eyelids, and then dimness.
“Hey! Whoa, what’s going on?” It was Roy, sounding sleepy and confused.
Jennet opened her eyes, to see him sitting on the velvet couch where she had first arrived. He was wearing a white t-shirt and plain boxers.
“Greetings, Royal one,” the king said. “I have summoned you to my court.”
“But it’s, like, the middle of the night.” Roy scrubbed his face with his hands, then looked up. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Jennet. “Jen, you’re here? This is some tweaked dream, for sure.”
She frowned at him. “Not a dream, Roy. Sorry to say.”
“What?” He stood up and kicked the couch. “Ow.”
Grabbing his bare foot, he sat back down. Behind him, the pixies shimmered with mirth, and the faerie maidens laughed. At the edge of the clearing, the harper struck up a lively tune.
Roy looked over at her. “I don’t get it. Why are you even here?”
“An unwise bargain between me and the king,” she said.
He made a face. “Yeah, these guys are tricky to deal with. Sorry you got sucked in. I should have told you Feyland was, uh… different.”
“I already knew, Roy.”
“You did?” He frowned. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because - ”
“Enough of your mortal bickering,” the king said, an edge of fire in his voice. “I am not best pleased, Royal one. Three times now you have failed to uphold the bargain we struck.”
“Your majesty, I’m sorry, but life happens, you know? I’ll do better next time.”
“There will be no next time. The agreement we made is now at an end.” The Bright King stood, suddenly fearsome in his contained fury.
Roy paled. “But, what about my powers? I still have to - ”
“No more.” The king held up his hand. A moment later, a glass sphere containing flickering violet fire appeared in his palm. “This is only half-full, Royal one. You have failed me.”
Jennet bit her lip, trapping her gasp of surprise. The sphere was nearly identical to the one the Dark Queen had used to imprison Jennet’s mortal essence. The king passed his hand over the glass, and the flames leaped up
, out of the glass and into his body. For a moment, he was outlined in a freakish violet glow.
“Hey,” Roy said, reaching for the sphere. “I can get more, I swear. Give it back. Just one more chance?”
“No.” The king’s voice was cold. “Your chances are spent, mortal. Our bargain is finished.”
The words hung in the air, then shattered. The sound of breaking glass - the end of a promise made in the realm. Jennet flinched. When she looked at the king again, his hands were empty.
“Um. Ok.” Roy hunched his shoulders. “I guess you can send me back now. And her.” He jerked his head at Jennet.
“It is never that simple. I am still owed the bright flame of humanity, Royal one. You and Fair Jennet will bide with me for some time longer, until that debt is paid. Now - sleep.”
He waved his hand, and Jennet felt her body begin to fold down into the soft grasses of the dais. No! She had to warn Tam. She had to fight the soothing darkness twining around her senses, the sweet lethargy stealing up her limbs. She had to…had to…
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT
Tam flinched inside his sleeping bag. Something was pinching him.
“Bug,” he mumbled, “go back to bed and leave me alone.”
“Bold Tamlin,” a high voice piped, “you must wake. Trouble is afoot in the Realm of Faerie.”
Puck! Tam sat upright, the dozy warmth of sleep doused by icy realization. If Puck were here, something was wrong. Provided it really was the sprite, and not some weird dream-fragment. Tam rubbed his eyes. Anxiety clenched his gut when he saw Puck hovering, cross-legged, beside his sleeping bag.
“What is it?” Tam whispered. “And keep your voice down, or you’ll wake my family.”
He glanced over at the blanket-covered lump of the Bug, asleep on the couch. The kid was still snoring.
“Fair Jennet requires aid,” Puck whispered. “The king has brought her to his court - and does not intend to let her go.”
“What? How?” Cold fear sliced through him. “Was she in-game? What time is it?”
The clock in the kitchen shed a greenish glow, and he squinted at the numbers. 1:43. Awfully late for Jennet to be simming.
“She did not enter Feyland by the usual route,” the sprite said. “The king took her from her bed.”
Crap. This was beyond severe.
“How do I get her back?” Keeping one eye on Puck, he started pulling on his clothes.
The sprite cocked his head, his eyes glinting. “That is for you to determine, Tamlin. I merely bring warning. Good luck - and farewell.”
“Wait!” Tam hissed, reaching for the sprite.
Too late. There was only empty air where Puck had been, and the faint echo of chiming bells. Damn, damn, damn.
“Tam?” The Bug turned over. “I heard a thing.”
“Shh, go back to sleep. I’m just going to the bathroom.”
He grabbed his pack and retreated to the bathroom. It was dim and cramped - but private. Tam grabbed the taped-together flashlight from under the sink and clicked it on, ignoring the scuttle of bugs away from the light.
When he’d made his bargain with the Dark Queen, Jennet had saved him by using the words of an old ballad. It was time for him to return the favor - and the only instructions he had for dealing with the Realm of Faerie were in her book.
The back section of Tales of Folk and Faerie held ballads and scraps of tales that were hundreds of years old. He paged through, his heart giving a jolt at the one titled Tam Lin. No - that story had already played out. He needed something different, something about a girl taken by the faeries.
The Golden Ball - no. The Fish and the Ring - not at all. He was running out of pages. Forcing himself to go slowly, he went back and scanned the text as well as the titles.
Midway through the section, the words Open from within, let me in, let me in, jumped out at him with a shock of recognition. One of the rhymes he and Jennet had said to open the door under the hill. This had to be it.
He went to the top of the page and read the title. Childe Rowland - a tale he’d just skimmed over before. The weak flashlight beam wavered across the page. Taking a deep breath, Tam began to read.
For once, the stars were out from behind the clouds, and a thin moon illuminated the frost-covered city. It had taken him almost an hour to get up to the gates of The View. Tam breathed into his hands in an effort to un-numb them. His gloves were half holes, and didn’t do much against the cold.
The gates were closed and locked. No doubt set with an alarm. The high walls encircling the development were studded with razor-sharp spikes. He retreated to a nearby clump of evergreen bushes and huddled down, trying to think.
First, he had to get into The View. Then break into Jennet’s and get to her sim-system, without alerting the house network. Power-up, enter Feyland, and follow the directions the old tale had laid out. Sure.
So many things could go wrong. He felt sick.
Headlights pierced the darkness, and Tam ducked behind the foliage, hoping his brown coat would help camouflage him. A truck pulled up to the gates, Crestview Sanitation written in faded letters on the side. Of course. The maintenance crews would come in at night, so as not to disturb the residents with the sight of their trash being taken away. This was his chance.
He only had a few seconds - the gates were swinging open, the truck’s engine revving. Tam sprinted from his hiding place and leaped for the back of the truck. His chilled fingers scrabbled for purchase. Come on! He reached up, desperately searching for a handhold.
Right before the truck pulled away, his fingers closed over a metal crossbar. Feet dangling, heart pounding, he gritted his teeth and held on. The vehicle sped under the plas-metal arch of The View. Tam held his breath, but no alarms sounded, no guards leaped out to rip him from the truck and slap him in cuffs.
The truck was going too fast for him to let go now, though his shoulders burned from the strain. He had to get off, and soon. Wasn’t there a stop sign up ahead?
Yeah - but apparently it didn’t apply to midnight maintenance vehicles. The truck blew past without even slowing, the sign just a passing blur of red and white. Then they veered around a corner. Tam slammed hard against the edge of the vehicle. His fingers lost their grip, and for a crystalline moment, he was suspended in the air. Flying. Oh, crap.
The ground came up to meet him, and he rolled, trying to break the speed of his fall. He came to a stop halfway on the sidewalk. Breathless, he lay there, staring at the orange halo of the streetlamp above him.
Get up. He had to get up, even if something was broken.
With a groan, he levered himself to standing. No stabbing pain, nothing too serious. He ached all over, though, and his side was going to be one big bruise. He was lucky he’d ended up in somebody’s yard and not wrapped around the streetlamp. His tumble from the truck hadn’t dislodged his access badge, either. Little miracles.
A quick glance at the skyline confirmed his direction. With the city-glow of Crestview on his left, he limped along the street, keeping to the shadows. He’d be able to get to Jennet’s. A lifetime of dodging down alleyways in the Exe had honed his ability to navigate to his destination, no matter how twisty the route.
It took him about ten minutes, and a backtrack from a cul-de-sac with wakeful dogs, to get to the Carter’s mansion. Their fountain was on, even in the middle of the night. He didn’t trust the water for drinking, but pulled off his gloves and splashed a couple icy handfuls on his face to shock away the tiredness. Behind him, three stories of privilege waited, tight as a fortress. How the hell was he going to break in?
The water before him swirled, and for a moment he thought he saw a pale face below the surface. Then the liquid flowed upward, sheening off the body of a beautiful fey woman. He blinked, not as surprised as he should have been to see a faerie in the Carter’s fountain.
“Bold Tamlin,” she said, her speech like the burble of a creek over stones.
“Uh, gr
eetings, water sprite. Do you live here, in this fountain?”
She laughed, showing sharp teeth. “I am the Nixie, and I dwell in all moving water. Bard Thomas sent me to aid you. Come closer.”
She didn’t look trustworthy - but he didn’t have a lot of other options at the moment. And she knew Thomas.
Tam stepped to the edge of the fountain. The Nixie flowed up to him, cupping his face in her cool hands.
“Give me a kiss, and I will give you the code,” she said. Her eyes were deep pools - but he was too wary to fall in.
“Was that part of Thomas’s instructions?”
She scowled and her hands curled against his cheeks, her pointed nails pricking his skin. “Meddling mortal.”
“I’ll take that as a no. How about you just give me the code, whatever it is, and we’ll call it good.”
Her expression grew even more petulant, but she dropped her hands. Water dripped down his chin, tickling, until he wiped it away with his sleeve.
“Very well,” she said with a pout. “I am bid to tell you this. 0173397. Goodbye, foolish human. You had the Nixie in your hands, but let her go.”
With a splash, she plunged back down under the water. It foamed and rippled, then finally cleared. There was just a quiet basin with a few inches of water - no fey creatures lurking in the bottom. The fountain played on, oblivious. Tam swallowed. He’d bet that, with Jennet in the Bright King’s court, the boundaries between the realms were stretching thin. Another reason to get her out of there as soon as possible. Urgency beat through him, banishing the cold.
Under his breath, he repeated the numbers the Nixie had given him, until they were solid. He didn’t think much of Thomas’s messenger, or her methods, but the bard had to work with the dark fey of the Unseelie. He probably had to use what he could get.
0173397. If he were lucky, it was a manual entry code. He turned and faced the Carter’s mansion. The imposing front doors stared back at him - but there was another way in. Nerves jumping, he cut through the side yard and up the plain walkway that led to the back door.
As he’d half-recalled, there was a covered box mounted on the wall. His breath filled the air in shaky white puffs as he flattened himself along the wall. Hands almost numb, he slid open the cover to reveal a keypad. With one stiff finger he tapped out the numbers, then held absolutely still - just a shadow among other shadows. Please, open.
