Spinning Thorns

by Anna Sheehan

  Reynard’s head snapped to Cait. ‘What did you say? What was that name?’

  Cait glanced absently at him. ‘Stiltskin. Don’t obsess over it, you’ll forget it again within the hour. I can’t make it stick to you.’

  Reynard sagged, defeated, but he snarled between clenched teeth, ‘Then let me kill her!’

  ‘I won’t do that,’ Cait said. ‘She’s my sister.’

  Reynard blinked. ‘You mean you’re my great-aunt?’ he asked

  ‘Only a little,’ Cait said. ‘Ylva and I had different mothers. She was very offended when I was invited to the palace for Amaranth’s christening, and she wasn’t. She was the eldest and I was the youngest, and she thought I had little business there.’ She turned to Will. Will was busy staring at Reynard in confusion. Reynard had faerie blood? ‘Your grandparents had invited a representative of every clan, you see, and since I represented both Caital through my mother and Stiltskin through my father, they thought they had both clans covered. Oh, unlike your people, faerie names follow the female line. But Ylva didn’t see it that way. She thought I was too spoiled as it was.’

  Frankly, Will couldn’t give a bent copper for historical family feuds. ‘You’re a faerie,’ she whispered.

  Reynard looked at her, his dark face completely unreadable. He strained against the vines, but they did not slacken their grip. Will couldn’t say she was upset about that. He took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  Will took a hesitant step toward him. ‘You don’t shine,’ she whispered. ‘You …’ She searched his face. Everything she had ever heard about the Nameless flashed through her head. Uncontrollable. Fickle. Violent. Unknowable. She searched his face, and saw nothing to dispel her suspicion. He was no longer skulking in the shadows, but the bright firelight cast no brightness over his face. Nameless. Shadowed. That explained it. It explained all of it – his quicksilver mood swings, his smouldering hatred, his skulking and his lying. And he had never told her his name. ‘A demon.’

  He flinched angrily at the word. ‘Gah! I am not. I am Nameless, yes, but if I was a demon I’d have done something dreadful long before now.’

  Will took one more step toward him. She knew the answer already. Amaranth’s gift of Wisdom damned her in that moment. She had been happier not knowing. ‘But you have. God of Death!’ She breathed. ‘God of Death, Doom and Destruction, the wool!’ She backed away from him, horrified. ‘The wool!’ Lavender had been tangled in wool when she fell to her Sleep. And Reynard was a spinner. Will still had one of his spells twisted into her hair. With a sudden shudder she clawed at it, ripping the elflock from her scalp. She cried out as she did it, as she’d torn the whole lock of hair out by the roots. She could feel a thin line of blood trickling down her temple. ‘It was you. This Sleep is yours.’ Her voice trembled and roared, seeming to come from some other place, where her horror echoed.

  He didn’t deny it. She wished he’d deny it. She wouldn’t have believed him, but she wished he’d deny it. Even a doubt would have made her feel better.

  Cait frowned. ‘I thought you knew that, too,’ she said

  Will whirled on her. ‘You thought I knew? You thought that I was callous and bloodthirsty as you and your blasted doom-laden briars?’ She pointed at Reynard. ‘You thought I’d spend a minute around some Nameless cursed demon if I knew what he was? What are you, as evil as he is?’ Will took a step back, all of her mother’s admonitions and Lavender’s fears echoing through her head. ‘No. No, it’s the magic, that’s what it is. It’s driven you all mad! Arg!’ It pained her to admit it, but Amaranth was right. Hiedelen was right. She held her head in her hands. ‘What have I done?’ She turned to Reynard. ‘You used me. You even admitted to it. And I, ah! I didn’t listen! You used me to get to Lavender. You just wanted her, the real princess, and I didn’t even see it!’

  He lost his temper. ‘Actually,’ he snapped, ‘I didn’t care if the Sleep cursed you, her, your wretched parents, or anyone else in that blasted palace! Every last one of you, living rich and warm and well fed, the entire kingdom bears your filthy name.’ He struggled against the honeysuckle. ‘I wanted you to suffer.’

  Will choked. ‘Well,’ she said, her voice quivering. ‘You got your wish. I’m suffering. We’re all suffering. The kingdom will be taken by Hiedelen, and everyone will suffer for it. I hope you’re content enough.’ She took a step toward him. Her voice low and dangerous, she growled at him, as if it were a curse. ‘I’ll see you suffer, too,’ she rumbled.

  ‘Too late,’ he whispered.

  Will searched his face, his wretched, shadowed, lovely face. And she had kissed those lying lips. ‘Tell me.’

  He raised an eyebrow sarcastically. ‘Tell you what, exactly?’

  ‘How do I undo it?’ she demanded. ‘How do I break the Sleep?’

  He growled in his throat. ‘I wouldn’t tell you if I knew, Princess.’

  The use of her title was what did it. She had been trying to get him to call her Will, again and again. She had taken him into her confidence, she had made herself vulnerable, and he’d thrown it in her face again and again. And now, he had to do it again. He knew what she was. She had told him … everything. And he had used her.

  She hit him. An open-handed blow across the cheek. He didn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. She drew herself up to her full height. ‘By the authority vested in me by right of inheritance, I hereby sentence you to arrest. You will be brought before the queen to await judgement for your crimes!’

  Cait laughed, a surprisingly merry sound in the charged air. ‘You don’t think I’d let you arrest my great-nephew, do you?’

  Will rounded on her. ‘You too are under arrest,’ Will said. ‘For the wilful murder of four Hiedelen princes, and untold others.’

  Cait tossed her head. ‘Oh, honestly. Listen to yourself, Willow. You have no power here!’

  With a swallow Will looked around her. Suddenly, she realized what a precarious position she was in. For the first time, fear clutched at her. Everything had changed. She had gone with a friend to find an ally, and instead discovered she’d followed an enemy to a callous, disinterested criminal.

  She backed a step towards the door. ‘What do you plan to do with me?’ she asked. She was suddenly glad of her gift of Bravery. She was terrified, but she stood against it easily. Her voice did not tremble in her fear.

  Cait shook her head. ‘Well, this is madness. I’m sending you home, clearly this is a waste of all of our time.’ She sighed at her and glanced at Reynard. ‘Shame, really. Off you go!’ And she thrust a dry winter rose into Will’s hand.

  The rose twisted and wrapped itself tightly around Will’s arm. The thorns pierced her flesh, and it stung worse than nettles. ‘Ah!’ Will scrabbled at the thorns, and a few drops of blood from her wrist fell to the ground before everything went dark around her.

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  ‘Well,’ Cait said. ‘That’s got rid of her.’

  I was more worried than I wanted to be. ‘What did you do to her?’

  ‘Just what I said, I sent her home. She’ll open her eyes in the front hall of her palace, probably a little dizzy, but perfectly fine. It’s so touching that you care.’ I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not, and I frankly didn’t care. ‘Too bad, really, I had such high hopes. If you promise to stop trying to kill your aunt, I can let you out of that honeysuckle.’

  The wolf growled.

  ‘No, Ylva, you got yourself into this,’ Cait said. ‘Until he’s gone, you can just stay there.’

  I narrowed my eyes at the wolf, the glowing, named wolf. I considered this promise. I knew Cait could probably tell if I spat out a lie. Stop trying to kill my aunt. If I succeeded, it wouldn’t be a try. She also didn’t make me promise not to hurt her. ‘I promise,’ I said.

  ‘Hm,’ Cait said, but the honeysuckle slowly released its hold on my arms and legs. I pulled myself from it and took a deep breath. I hated being bound. I stared at my lupine aunt.
Things were more clear in my mind. The story made much more sense when it was explained as a family fight with a strong overtone of sibling rivalry. When faeries fight amongst ourselves, it can turn very bloody. We feel any emotion much more strongly than most humans, and rarely let it be tempered. Our emotions run very pure. Any anger would not be easily tempered by familial love, but would be easily strengthened by years of familiarity and a forest of resentment. Like the resentment I felt right now.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Cait said. ‘It’s clear you know nothing.’

  ‘I know much,’ I growled.

  ‘I mean, you know nothing about us,’ she said. ‘Your history, our people. I’m appalled, frankly.’

  I glared at her. ‘How could I know anything?’ I said. ‘I’ve been Nameless since I was an infant. Shunned by faeries, hated by humans, who would have told me a thing?’

  ‘Well, I’d have thought my niece would have taken it upon herself to educate you.’

  ‘There are many things,’ I said through my teeth, ‘that my mother will not let herself talk about. Things that hurt her.’ I sat stiffly on the bench I’d tried before. ‘I don’t understand.’ My voice was still clipped with barely controlled rage. ‘That wolf over there is clearly Named.’

  ‘Well, it’s not her original name,’ Cait said. ‘That’s lost forever. Even I don’t remember it. I sometimes even forget Father’s clan name, but it always comes back. Father was never rendered Nameless, after all.’ She handed me the cup of tea she had poured for Will, and I pushed it back, causing it to slop over her green dress. She set the cup down without resentment. ‘I named Ylva,’ she added.

  I shook my head. ‘How could you do that?’

  ‘Well, first, you clearly know nothing about us, or you’d know all of this. We faeries aren’t even strictly faeries any longer, though we’re as close as we can be. Do you know how we came to this world?’

  ‘Through the Light,’ I said. ‘The Festival of Light celebrates a journey from a place we left so long ago that there is no memory, nor even true record of it.’

  ‘Yes, and since those first faeries came through the Light from … wherever they came from, we’ve been interbreeding with mortals. The first faeries were immortal, unless they were killed, and they created their own Names at birth. These names were immutable, and could never be stripped. However, there have been too many years, too much dilution of the blood. While we are long lived, we are no longer immortal. And our Names no longer grow from our blood. We are given them by our parents, while we are infants, and still pure.’

  ‘I remember,’ I said. ‘Mother tried to name the kit. I remember her trying, but I can’t remember the name.’

  ‘Well, the name we are given weaves into our blood. As we are still mostly faeries, we need a Name, a proper Name, to understand ourselves, to take hold of our more … impulsive tendencies. I suspect if you were named you wouldn’t have cursed poor Lavender.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s so poor,’ I snapped, but Cait only laughed.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ she said. ‘Our name is what binds us to the Light, and keeps us connected to what we once were, when our ancestors first passed through to this world. When the Stiltskin name was stripped from Ylva, and through her the entire Stiltskin clan, you were cut from that Light. Names can no longer bind to the darkness in your blood. You can’t recall what your name was. You can’t find a name that becomes you. For all intents and purposes, you are no longer truly a faerie.’

  ‘I am,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Cait. ‘And that is where the problems arise. You are a faerie without the Light, and without any control. This makes you very dangerous, and all the humans know it.’

  A vision of the kit formed in my mind. The kit, white and beautiful, glowing like a true faerie. She’d be an angel. I took a deep breath, and then voiced the most important question in my life. ‘How do I find the Light?’ I asked. ‘That bitch over in the honeysuckle has found hers. How can my family earn back its name?’

  ‘Well, there is where we run into a conundrum,’ Cait said. ‘I’m not sure that you can.’

  I felt as though someone had just struck me. I’d had hope dropped before me, and I was seeing it crushed before my eyes. ‘How did she?’ I said, and it came out very softly. Tears stabbed my eyes.

  Cait’s tone turned gentle. ‘I gave a name to her. I took pity on her. Fifty years into the interregnum I found her wandering my forest, still angry, still vengeful, and half dead. When I found her, she tried to kill me, and failed. Then she begged me to kill her. She didn’t want to live Nameless any longer. I made her a deal. If she would serve me for a hundred years, in a magicless form, I would grant her a name. She agreed. It took me five years to find it, and I was only able to do it so quickly because I’d known her all my life.’

  ‘So quickly?’

  ‘The only person who can give you a name is someone who knows your heart. Every corner of your heart. Predict every nuance of your thought. I know my sister. We may hate each other, but we have always been family. It took me five years to understand the changes that had taken place in her during her fifty years wandering Nameless, but she hadn’t changed all that much. She was still my sister. So I named her for the wolf, and in another twenty years or so she will be a faerie again, just like me.’

  ‘I know my sister,’ I said. ‘You mean I could name her? Any time?’

  Cait shook her head. ‘Such a thing isn’t within your power. Until you know yourself, you can’t begin to know another properly.’

  I looked at her. My great-aunt, mad as a march hare, with daisies for a mind. I knew the answer before I voiced the question. ‘Could you name us?’

  ‘That is why I’d expected you earlier. I thought it would be common knowledge that I had taken Ylva in. I expected your mother to join her, but she didn’t. I suspect it was that fox father of yours. Red Jack was always sure he could name your mother. He never could manage it. He never truly had a grasp of her heart. Or yours, apparently. Too distrustful.’

  ‘Don’t blame this on Da,’ I said, but it was without heat. I felt drained. She was right. He’d left after the kit was born. He must have realized he’d never know her, either.

  ‘I don’t,’ Cait said. ‘He was fully a fox faerie; always a wanderer. It was in his nature. I was impressed that he stayed with you and my niece as long as he did. He couldn’t name her, so he finally left. I cannot name you either. In the end, I don’t know you. I don’t know your sister, I don’t know my niece. It was possible, back when you were younger, that I could have grown to know you. But as of now, you’ve been Nameless so long, I doubt anyone could. When you came to my forest I asked my trees to look you over. Not a one of you is knowable. Your mother is broken, so there is too little of her spirit to find. You are so buried in resentment and distrust that whatever is beneath is beyond retrieval, even, I suspect, by yourself. Your sister is an enigma. She jerks from optimism to hollow emptiness with no prediction of when, with never a hint of a self in her entire life. You may understand her, but I certainly couldn’t begin to.’ She pushed another cup of tea at me. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  I bit my tongue to keep from crying. I didn’t know why I felt like this. I’d never expected to be anything but Nameless. I hadn’t lost any long-cherished hope. And yet I felt like I did when Da left, and everything seemed empty and dying. Without even thinking about it I took the tea, and this time I swallowed some. It was warm, but I couldn’t taste it. ‘We will always be Nameless,’ I whispered, and my hands trembled around the teacup.

  ‘Yes,’ Cait said.

  I couldn’t even remember the clan name she had said. Something starting with an S. Or was it a C? Cirrus? Seren? It was lost – to me at least. I took a deep breath. ‘I suppose that’s it, then.’ I set the teacup down with a clink. I stood and turned my gaze to the wolf. She was watching me distrustfully. Quite rightly. My next act was not an impulse – I had intended to do it from the moment I was released from th
e vines. I strode the few steps toward her, and with a furious kick I broke her lupine jawbone. She yelped and whined. ‘I very much hope your little prank with Princess Amaranth was worth it, Great-aunt,’ I said. ‘Pray you never meet me again. I can’t quite bring myself to kill a bound enemy, but take this as a token of my appreciation.’ I lunged forward and bit her ear, tearing half of it off. I spat the corner of furred flesh to the ground and listened to her whimper. I wanted it to leave me satisfied, but I felt hollow.

  Cait shook her head. ‘Impulsive Nameless nephews,’ she muttered. ‘You’re very like her, you know.’

  I whirled on her. ‘Say that again and I’ll bite you too!’ I snarled.

  She was holding something out to me. ‘Here.’

  I took a step back. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s for you.’ It was another sack, the same as the seemingly bottomless one she’d sent me home with before.

  ‘What, the other one about to run out?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Cait said. She reached inside and pulled out a chiffon cake with sliced cherries atop it. ‘But this one does desserts.’

  I wanted to push the cake in her face and dump the bag over her head, but the thought of the kit with an éclair the size of her head stopped me. We hadn’t had anything sweet since I broke into the bakery fifteen years ago. The kit was still a child. I took the bag and stalked out into the snow, alone.

  Against my will, I briefly wondered if Will had gotten home all right, but I banished the thought. She thought me a demon. She was no longer any of my concern.

  Chapter 16

  Will

  Despite Cait’s assurances that she was sending her home, Will half expected her new bracelet of thorns to slit her veins and leave her bleeding out her last. Instead, she suffered only one small scratch. The pain of the scratch seemed to turn her inside out until she was nothing but this mild stinging pain. Cait’s tower chamber, her shrubs and vines and teacups, all swirled into a tiny point, which then exploded again, unfolding like a flower. When it did, Will was no longer in Cait’s tower. She had arrived, with a crack as loud as a firework, in the centre of the receiving hall.