Lies in the Dark

by Robert J. Crane

  This whole place was beautiful, just as the hospital had been, a meadow surrounded by trees in late spring. Flowers littered the grass, and there was a gentle breeze rustling through them. “This feels like an odd place to put us,” I said.

  Orianna was staring around, too, though far more skeptically than I was. “Yes … odd,” she murmured, too distracted by our impending executions to be all that interested in our precise location.

  My heart skipped a beat as I watched them float Lockwood in next, hovering him next to where Orianna and I were placed. Another marble plinth was settled in place, and they settled Lockwood’s cage upon it. Lockwood, his face mashed lifelessly against the glass, did not stir.

  He was only feet away now, so close I could see his eyelids flutter. They were taunting me, I knew it. Why else would they bring him so close to me?

  I pressed against the wall of the glass, feeling it warp and bend beneath my weight, but it wouldn’t give, no matter how hard I pressed.

  So close … and yet infinitely far. I stepped back into the center of my magical cage.

  Without warning, the whole world shook, slanted, and then my vision flickered.

  I fell to my knees, and I could see faeries beginning to file into the tent at the far entrance, but the beautiful interior of the tent had disappeared. Sure, I could see some pretty crystals, some nice chairs, but the pond had vanished, as well as the sun overhead.

  The faeries who entered were not like they had been at the hospital, all stark horror, but they didn’t look all glorious and sweeping and supermodel-y like they had at the ball, either.

  It was as if someone had wiped away their beauty, like a photo in a magazine before the airbrushing effects had been applied.

  I stared around at the female faeries who had been wearing such lovely dresses. They were so … plain, ordinary. A woman with a huge zit on her nose walked past our cages and cast me a dirty look. The guards who looked so strong only a moment ago were no more commanding or soldierly than Gregory, my friend from school. And he was a skinny guy who could squeeze into hipster jeans without even trying that hard.

  The entire Summer Court suddenly looked like Cinderella at the ball. Or at least how she looked when the clock had struck midnight. Everything had turned back into a pumpkin.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Orianna asked.

  I opened them again. The beautiful meadow had returned, along with the cotton-candy clouds, and all the faeries filing into their seats now looked as lovely and as ethereal as ever.

  I didn’t know what to say. Lockwood knew about the flicker, but … would Orianna even believe me? Would it be wise to tell her? By instinct alone, I knew that Lockwood would probably tell me to keep my mouth shut, that she didn’t need to know any extra information. And normally, I would have gone along with that.

  But … the situation we were in … slated for execution …

  Did it really matter anymore?

  “I … don’t really know what it is,” I said finally, turning to look at her. “It’s this weird thing that’s been happening to me ever since I came to Faerie. The first time I looked at Stormbreak, my vision sort of … I don’t know … it flickers … like I can see two sides of the same coin at the same time. I saw Stormbreak, all pretty and snowy, and then in the next second, I saw it shrouded in shadow, dark and eerie.”

  Orianna was staring at me, one eyebrow cocked curiously.

  “And it wasn’t just there. Remember when I saw the unicorn at the farm? Yeah. I saw the farm in ruins, dead unicorns everywhere.”

  Orianna pursed her lips. “No wonder you freaked out.”

  “Yeah, no wonder …” I said. “Then at the hospital, I saw all of the patients lying there, dead or dying. It was like a sick and twisted version of what we were seeing. I … I just don’t understand.” I sighed, staring around. “It’s like someone is pulling back a curtain, letting me to peek inside to something secret.”

  Orianna snorted.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Let me guess, you just saw something here, too?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was like … everything is pretty now, right? The sun, the sky, the little flowers. But when my sight flickered, it just … Everything went ugly. It’s like everything is … fake.”

  Orianna tossed her hair and laughed. “Well, that’s the Seelie for you.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked. “You keep saying that the Seelie are all about the façade and whatever. Aren’t the Unseelie even worse?”

  She shook her head. “The Unseelie, particularly those in the Winter Court, do all of this,” she waved her finger around, “… to some extent. I mean, it’s magic, of course we use it to look better, but the Summer Court fae take lying to the next level.”

  “So, what …” I asked. “Am I like … seeing through their glamours?”

  “You just might be,” Orianna said. “There’s no way to know if a Seelie is telling you the complete truth. They bathe lies with lies, they layer them on top of themselves, like pretty bows or sparkly jewels.”

  “But I didn’t think they could lie.”

  “It’s not about lying outright,” Orianna said. “You should know this. It’s using their words to circumnavigate the truth. It’s always in little ways, subtle ways. Like changing the color of their eyes. It’s harmless, yes … but aren’t they lying?”

  I considered her words.

  “So, what’s the truth?” I asked. “Obviously we are inside of a tent. The sky overhead, the trees, the lighting … it’s all an illusion.”

  “Or, in other words, a lie,” Orianna said. She grinned mischievously. “Somehow, Cassie, you see past the veil of illusion that the Summer Court wears like perfume.”

  “What about stuff like the farm?” I asked. “There weren’t really a bunch of dead unicorns there, right?”

  Orianna shrugged. “Probably, if an army marched through like he said.” She leaned a little closer to me. “You have to understand that for faeries, almost everything is about looks. It’s what’s on the outside that counts, what it appears like to others.”

  “Doesn’t everyone know they are just fooling themselves?” I asked.

  “It’s part of the mystery,” Orianna said, leaning closer. “Never knowing what’s truth, what’s a glamour or a half truth. Those with power have been able to master the art. Like some sort of great game.”

  That sounded a lot like court intrigue on Earth from medieval times. Information could be more valuable than gold.

  But if it was a game … then maybe …

  There had to be a way to win, right?

  “Orianna,” I said, “this flicker thing I have … you think it shows me the truth?”

  “It shows you some truth,” Orianna said. “Why?”

  I looked over at Lockwood, eyes stinging again. I clenched my hands into fists, anger replacing the fear. Anger was easier to deal with, anyway. “Maybe we could use this to help us.”

  Orianna perked up at once, her eyes wide. “How?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. “But if I can see through their lies, and if they don’t know that I can do it, then maybe we can find an advantage somehow.”

  Orianna raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, but I don’t see how. You can’t control it, right?”

  “No, but …” I said. “It’s all I’ve got.”

  Her shoulders shook with a small laugh. “Most people, faced with execution … they give up. You … you’re plotting how to use your ability to see through cosmetic glamours to somehow beat the Summer Court. Interesting.”

  Before I could rebut that, a great clatter in echoed through the air. A huge rumbling like thunder started just after, and it took me a few seconds to realize that they sounded like huge drums, deep and booming.

  Orianna drooped, wrapping her arms around her knees once more, pulling them in close to herself.

  “What is it?” I asked. �
�Orianna, what is it?”

  She shook her head, face tight, pale, golden hair swirling. “It’s—”

  Her words were cut off by another resounding BOOM BOOM BOOM!

  The faeries in the tent were starting to look around. The circular pond rippled with the sound of each boom. Lockwood remained unmoving, stretched out in the bottom of his glowing cage.

  “What, is it … a dragon?” I asked, thinking about what could possibly be making that noise, shaking the ground. The booming could be footsteps, after all.

  Orianna shook her head.

  “Okay … a giant?” I was watching her to see if she reacted.

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Would it be something that I wouldn’t know because I’m from Earth?”

  She nodded.

  Wait.

  Another sound now—still the booming, but also a sharp rap rap rap as well, like a snare drum.

  It sounded like steps in a procession. A military march.

  My mouth went dry.

  We’d left Seelie territory with a whole army. The Seelie had built a tent, and—I cast a look around. Half of it wasn’t occupied or filled with … anything. The meadow stopped in what looked like a shroud of darkness that hadn’t been there a moment earlier, as though something was chewing at the edges of the magical illusion here.

  The steady cadence continued, unending, and with it came … understanding.

  Understanding of what was going on. Of the ceremony.

  Of the danger that I was in.

  Orianna’s eyes darted like a mouse that realizes the cat had cornered her, and who had nowhere to run. “The Winter Court approaches.”

  Chapter 32

  The thundering sound of an army’s footsteps was like a steadier version of my heart’s now-usual hammering. “Wait a second,” I said, an odd pressure in my head, sunlight streaming down through our magical cage, “I thought the Unseelie and the Seelie hated each other.”

  “Oh, they do,” Orianna said, staring into the void of darkness where the sunny meadow came to an abrupt end. “That’s why this is bad.”

  I stared in the direction of the dark end of the illusion that filled the tent. “What … does this mean, then?”

  “Whatever it is …” Orianna said. “It’s nothing good.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” I said. “Because we’ve had just way too much good news lately. Why, I don’t know if I could even handle any more good news right now.” I nudged Orianna, getting her to look away from the magical void. “Is this the beginning of the war? The Winter fae marching on us here?”

  “Look,” Orianna said, her thin, golden-tipped finger rising to point behind me.

  I turned in time to see the king and queen of the Summer Court walking along the far side of the circular pond toward two golden thrones that rose out of a platform shrouded in white silk. The queen’s long hair was braided all the way to the floor below, and she wore a green dress that trailed along behind her, the exact color of the grass at her feet. He was wearing a deep black robe, with a high-pointed crown on his forehead. She held her chin high; he looked straight ahead. They both had a golden glow that seemed to radiate from their skin.

  More tricks. More illusions.

  The tension among the fae grew as silence fell, and they took their seats.

  I glanced at the other end of the room, and two more thrones had appeared in the haze, but they appeared to be made of silver, or platinum, shining in the cooler way of those metals.

  Orianna was right. Both courts were going to be in this room at the same time.

  “Are we safe here?” I asked her.

  “They won’t attack each other outright, if that’s what you mean,” Orianna said. “But I don’t know the last time that anything like this has ever happened.”

  “Are they here to discuss the war?” I asked. “Like try to come to some sort of peace agreement? Before it starts?”

  “It’s … possible?” Orianna said. Then she frowned. “More likely they’re here to charge Lockwood with treason, and allow the Unseelie a chance to punish him in their own way, if he somehow offended them as well.”

  I looked over at Lockwood. I sighed, thinking how much easier this would be if only he’d trusted me with the truth. Sure, I would have probably been more vulnerable to the fae, I might have had to lie, might have been in more danger, but …

  Dragging me into this without giving me the truth? Hot resentment rolled around inside me, bringing a flush to my cheeks. I felt like I’d been used, trapped, dragged into this unknowing. The unknowing was maybe the worst part, surprising as that sounds, given I was staring down execution.

  I mean, I’d faced down vampires. I’d gotten myself fully involved in vampire dealings, put myself in peril with the threat of having every drop of my blood drunk dry. No part of that had been easy for me, but I’d been willing to do it because I’d known the stakes (sorry, bad pun). Byron was threatening my family. The Instaphoto gang was going to kill my neighbor. The Butcher was attacking my family and friends in New York.

  But when Lockwood had taken me to Faerie, it had been with the vaguest of stories to back it—“I’m in danger. Something happened back home that was bad. Help me with your power of lies.”

  And here my dumb self was, and how much use was I?

  Not useful at all. I didn’t even know what to lie about, I was so thoroughly in the dark.

  Everything about the situation made me feel sick, just sick. It was like spinning in total blackness, unable to see the hand in front of your face, you’re so thoroughly in the dark.

  “Well, I guess I understand why we are in the neutral territory,” I said, sinking back down onto the bottom of the glass cube. The pressure of the solidified magic against my shoulders carried no reassurance. Up was down, down was up, nothing made sense right now. The world was completely off its axis. Hell, I wasn’t even in my world.

  This was worse than when I’d found out that vampires were real and one was stalking me. More confusing, more infuriating. I felt so …

  Helpless.

  Orianna was still rigid.

  The void at the far end of the tent was changing now, beyond just the thrones sitting in the darkness. A little chill seemed to move through the crowd of fae before us, and they shivered. The meadow grass closest to the void seemed to be frosting, white crawling up the green stems.

  The drumbeat and tapping gave rise to soldiers appearing out of the darkness, steady and true, marching out of the void. They were stern and stoic, reminding me of the guards outside Buckingham Palace who never smile. Their armor was a gunmetal grey - dark, shiny and futuristic. Their helmets only revealed their eyes, masking and protecting the rest of their faces. Their wings lacked the bright hues of the Summer fae, favoring midnight blues and forest greens.

  As if reading my thoughts, a cold wind whipped through the walls of our cage, bringing with it a smell like winter in New York, and a hint of pine. I shuddered and wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I had my sweatshirt back instead of the ruins of the once-beautiful dress I’d been wearing at the ball.

  A neigh so loud it overcame the booming march rang out, and the Summer fae let out cries of awe. Behind the soldiers came a carriage, all chic style and sharp lines. It rattled to a stop before the thrones, and the door was thrown open.

  The king, because he obviously was the king, had red-orange hair so bright it looked as if it were actually on fire. He wore a bright red cloak lined in black silk, and a very simple black robe beneath, trimmed in silver. He was handsome, and had a smirk on his face that made me think of someone who takes pleasure in knowing things that others around them do not. His wings were the color of copper, and they unfurled as he stepped down first, then offered his hand up back into the carriage.

  The queen was dangerously beautiful. Raven-colored hair fell in wide, loose curls down her back, and she wore a sleek dress, simply cut but stunningly elegant, in a pale grey that matched her feathery wings. She didn’
t appear to know how to smile.

  Truly, she was the Winter Queen.

  Orianna’s face was a mask of awe and terror.

  They were probably less than fifty feet from us, a few ranks of soldiers all that separated them from our cube. The Winter Queen’s gaze roamed over us, mildly curious. One of her perfect eyebrows was arched in question.

  Her eyes, which were icy blue, made contact with mine, and I felt as if I had been struck in the gut with a frosty punch. She moved her attention past me to Orianna, and I saw a flicker of recognition pass over her flawless face. It was brief, but it was there.

  “You okay?” I whispered to Orianna.

  Orianna did not reply.

  The magic void was disappearing, replaced by a meadow in winter, snow and frost creeping out to meet in the middle of the tent. The pond had frozen halfway through, and I stared down at the ice, which ceased at the halfway mark as though by … uh, magic.

  Half the tent was Winter.

  Half the tent was Summer.

  “No Autumn or Spring,” I muttered.

  “They’re the subject courts, and they have no place in this power struggle,” Orianna said under her breath.

  I looked to the Winter Court as the king and queen took their seats. The queen’s electric blue gaze had had an almost physical effect on me … and I didn’t like it, but …

  There was something about it that worked on my preconceptions of how things were in Faerie. I’d come here thinking Summer were the good guys, Winter were the bad guys.

  Then the Seelie had gone had gone and put me in a cage, and now part of me wanted desperately to believe that in spite of their cold look, maybe the Unseelie were the good guys.

  But I was thinking like a child, in terms of good guys and bad guys, black hats and white. Standing where I was, a prisoner in a magic cage, sitting between the two sides. I knew I couldn’t count on either of them for support.

  We were all alone in this.

  Looking back to the Summer side, I recognized Master Calvor standing not far from the Summer dais, a nasty sneer twisting his lips as he glanced across the pond at Lockwood’s cage. He wore a crown of white metal, as intricate as lace, on his dark hair.