The Faerie Ring

by Kiki Hamilton

  “Didn’t look like you were ‘wandering’ to me. Looked like you were flyin’.” The stooped old man eyed her suspiciously. “Not runnin’ from somebody, were you?”

  “Who, me?” Tiki asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glanced at a stack of newspapers balanced on the corner of his old desk, the headline in bold print: QUEEN VICTORIA TO HOST A MASKED BALL FOR THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS ON DECEMBER 16TH.

  Four days away. She envisioned the piles of food she’d seen in the kitchens of Buckingham Palace, imagined the music of the orchestra playing in the distance. She wondered whether Prince Leo would be there.

  Tiki scanned the area outside the store. “Have you got any new books for me to read?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve got a new one right back here.” The old man shuffled away, disappearing between the racks of books.

  “Why did you leave the child?”

  Tiki jumped and whirled around to stare in surprise at the familiar blond girl who stood behind her. Where had she come from?

  “W-what?” Tiki stuttered.

  The girl stepped closer, and for a second Tiki caught a whiff of something that reminded her of the succulent smell of honeysuckle on a hot summer day.

  “I want to know why you took the child to that place and left her? She’s your responsibility.” The girl’s striking beauty was diminished by the anger that blazed in her eyes. For a second, Tiki was afraid the girl was going to strike her.

  Tiki took a step back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  A scream rang outside the bookstore, and Tiki jerked around. A bobby had Fiona by the arm and was marching her away.

  Tiki rushed out the door and raced toward Fiona and the bobby. She slowed as she neared, sneaking up behind the two of them, keeping on her toes as she shadowed their steps. There had to be a way to get the bobby to release Fiona.

  “Watch it!” a voice called on her left.

  Tiki jumped out of the way as a porter pushed an overloaded trolley of suitcases toward her. As the cart veered to miss her, a small valise fell to the floor near her feet. Before the porter could slow the heavy cart enough to retrace his steps, Tiki wrapped her fingers around the soft sides of the bag. Her eyes shifted from the porter to the policeman. Clutching the valise in front of her, Tiki headed for the bobby.

  When she was a step behind him, she yelled.

  “Officer!”

  The man’s shoulders jerked in surprise, and he turned in response. Using both hands, Tiki shoved the valise as hard as she could straight into his stomach, forcing him to drop his hold on Fiona. As soon as he loosened his grip, Fiona ran.

  “Found this, sir, someone must’ve dropped it,” Tiki said. From behind, she could hear the porter shouting. She grabbed the bill of her cap and dipped her head, then turned and darted away through the crowds.

  * * *

  SEVERAL hours later, Fiona sat across from Tiki as they took turns pulling one item at a time from the stolen handbag they had retrieved from Mr. Potts’s bookshop. Fiona pulled out a small silver box. She snapped open the lid.

  “Look at this,” she cried in delight. Inside, resting on a bed of red silk, lay a small silver filigreed brush and mirror. She pulled out the brush and ran it through her short, scruffy hair. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

  Tiki eyed the set. “I wonder how much they’re worth?”

  “Ooh, feel how heavy this is.” Fiona pulled a small purse from the bag. She grinned as she shook it, the coins jingling inside.

  “Open it, see how much there is,” Tiki urged.

  Fiona loosened the drawstrings and poured the coins into Tiki’s hands in a tinkling waterfall. “Look at it all.” Her face glowed with excitement.

  Tiki nodded in satisfaction. “Hot-cross buns for Toots tonight, eh? Maybe we can sneak one into the hospital for Clara, too.” She closed her fingers around the coins and noticed the dirt encrusted under her nails. Filthy, every single one of them. When was the last time she’d had a bath? When she was little her mother would bathe her two or three times a week with scented soap.

  “What are you looking at, Teek?”

  Tiki sighed. “Nothing. I was just thinking I need a bath.”

  Fiona laughed. “What for?”

  “I’m tired of being dirty all the time.”

  “The way I see it, there’s no point in getting all cleaned up unless you’re planning on going to a ball. You’ll just get dirty all over again the next day.” Fiona leaned forward to peer into the depths of the bag, her short brown hair sticking up in all directions. “What else is in there?”

  Tiki’s eyes were riveted on Fiona. “What did you say?”

  Fiona looked up in surprise. “I said, what else is in the bag?”

  “No, before that.”

  Fiona gave her a confused look. “I said, unless you’re going to a ball, what’s the point of bathing?”

  Tiki jumped to her feet. “Fi, that’s it!”

  The swinging plank of wood that marked the entrance to their home shifted to one side and Toots and Shamus came in, breathing hard. Toots collapsed on a pile of blankets next to Tiki, rolling on his back and gasping, his sides heaving in and out like a bellows. Shamus leaned against the wall, his hands on his knees.

  Shamus gulped for air. “There’s a lot of bobbies out there tonight.”

  “We had a little trouble earlier ourselves,” Fiona said.

  Tiki looked from one to the other. “What happened? Did you steal something?”

  “Just this.” Shamus grinned, opening his coat to reveal a large meat pasty. “And this.” He pulled open the other side of his jacket, disclosing a loaf of fresh bread.

  “And this,” Toots added from the floor. He pulled a fresh chunk of cheddar from under his shirt and grinned with pride.

  Tiki and Fiona laughed together. “A feast! We’ll have food for a week!”

  * * *

  IT was almost an hour later when Toots heaved a sigh as he passed a loud burst of gas.

  “Ugghh, Toots, stop it,” Fiona said. “Why do you always do that?” Next to her, Shamus plugged his nose.

  Tiki groaned as she loosed her long braid. “Toots, does that only happen when you eat or if you just breathe the air?”

  Toots giggled. “I heard a couple of the bobbies talking in the station today. They were saying that they’ve tripled the guards over at the palace. What with the queen’s ring getting snatched and all. Guards on every door to make sure nothing else gets stolen.”

  “Yes.” Tiki nodded. “But that’s no problem for us.” She paused, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Why’s that?” Shamus asked.

  “Because the royals aren’t guarding against something being returned.”

  Three sets of eyes turned to look at her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Toots asked.

  “I’ve figured out how to collect the reward for the ring.”

  “You have?” Fiona gasped.

  “Tell us,” Toots cried.

  Shamus gave her a questioning look, his response slow and measured, as usual. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  “The queen is going to have a masked ball on the sixteenth.” Tiki leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’m planning on attending.”

  Fiona clapped her hands in delight. “A ball? Will you wear a beautiful gown?” She pushed herself off the floor and twirled in place, holding imaginary skirts out from her side.

  Toots turned his nose up in disgust. “Why would you want to go to a ruddy ball?”

  “What are you thinking, Teek?” Shamus asked.

  “I’ll sneak into the ball, hide the ring, and get out.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “Then we’ll collect the reward and tell the royals where the ring is after we have the money.”

  “That’s brilliant, Teek.” Toots jumped up excitedly. “How’re you going to do that, exactly?”

  “But will you dance first?” Fiona asked.<
br />
  Shamus snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “I think you’ve gone daft.”

  Tiki smiled. “I have a plan. First, I’ll have to find a dress,” she said. “And then—”

  “And what do you mean, you’ll ‘hide the ring’?” Shamus interrupted.

  Tiki shifted her gaze to him. “It’s obvious we can’t just walk up to the Guards and hand someone the ring. We’ve gone round and round trying to figure out a way to trade the ring for the reward, but in the end it’s just too risky.”

  “But where are you going to hide it at, Teek?” Fiona asked. Her face was alight at the idea of Tiki attending a royal ball.

  “I’m going to hide the ring in bloody Buckingham Palace. Right back where I found it.” Tiki beamed at them. This was the solution they’d been looking for. Not only would she not have to worry anymore about being arrested for stealing the ring, but she would be able to claim the reward and also be rid of Rieker and the faeries at the same time. It was perfect.

  “You’ve lost your bloody mind.” Shamus paced back and forth, his hands behind his back.

  Fiona twirled and hummed a snippet of a tune. “I’d like to go to a ball.”

  “But how will they know where to look?” Toots asked.

  “Shh, the lot of you need to be quiet and just listen for a minute.” Tiki leaned forward again, her voice low. “I’m going to sneak into the ball and hide the ring. Someplace where no one will think to look. Then I’m going to sneak back out. They won’t even know I was there. I’ll be invisible, just like Toots said.” She smiled over at the young boy.

  “I said that?”

  “Then,” Tiki continued, “we’ll contact the Guards and tell them we have the ring.”

  “But how…,” Shamus started. Tiki held up her hand.

  “We’ll strike a bargain with the royals,” Tiki said. “If they give us the reward, we’ll tell them where the ring is.” She sat back. “It will be so simple.”

  Chapter Ten

  IN theory, the idea was simple, but with only four days to put the plan into action, it was the details that presented the challenge.

  “What will you wear to a royal ball?” Fiona asked in a dreamy voice the next morning. “Oh, I wish Clara was here. She’d love to see you all dressed up.”

  “I know,” Tiki said. “I’ve been thinking about her so much. Let’s go up and see her tomorrow.”

  “Do we dare?”

  Tiki nodded. “I’ve been thinking of a way. If we pretend to be from a church and stop by as a charity visit to see the children, I think they’ll let us in without asking questions about our parents.” She eyed Fiona’s soiled trousers and shirt. “We’ll need to go over to Petticoat Lane and find you a dress to wear, though.”

  “A dress?” Fiona’s voice rose in surprise.

  “We’re going to pretend to be girls.”

  “But you are girls, aren’t you?” Toots asked from across the room.

  Tiki laughed. “I’m not sure half the time anymore.”

  * * *

  PETTICOAT Lane was over in Aldgate, next to Spitalfields Market in the East End. They were lucky to catch a boot there, as it was almost half a day’s walk from Charing Cross.

  The streets of Petticoat Lane were jammed with shoppers when they arrived. The Lane was one of two main exchanges where secondhand clothes were sold.

  “Fruiiiiiit. Get yer fruiiiiitt. Apples and oranges, fresh all day.” The cries of the costermongers were like birdcalls, sharp and piercing.

  Tiki had brought the coin purse they’d picked off the woman in Charing Cross yesterday—it was stuffed into the depths of her trousers pocket, deep enough where no one could pick her pocket. They were going to need every one of those coins today.

  She stopped at the cart of a costermonger selling an assortment of metal items. The glint of a small knife had caught her eye, and Rieker’s words came back to her: The fey have a weakness to iron. You should get a knife with a blade made of iron and carry it with you, no matter what. And you’ve got to be prepared to use it. She slipped her fingers around the hilt and turned the knife back and forth, letting the blade glint in the soupy light of the day. The memory of Marcus grabbing her in the alley was never far from her mind. She would not be caught unarmed again. Shamus could show her how best to defend herself with a knife.

  “Ah, that’s a beauty, my fine fellow.” The man moved close to her, his squinty eyes measuring Tiki to determine her ability to pay. “Pure iron blade on that one. Slice through the thickest meat.”

  “How much?” Tiki’s attention was drawn to a young man standing behind the vendor. There was something about the intensity with which he watched their transaction that disturbed her. His hair was long and dark, like the feathers of a crow, pulled back behind his head. His features were striking, almost foreign, with large black eyes that seemed bottomless. She shuddered and turned back to the vendor.

  “A special price for you today, young sport,” the vendor replied. “Only one shilling, fourpence.”

  “Done.” Tiki was digging the coins out of her pocket when a sickening realization of who the young man reminded her of twisted her stomach. He looked like her attacker in the alley. The one Rieker had called Marcus. She looked up, but he was gone. With a sense of desperation, Tiki stood on tiptoes and twisted her head, trying to locate him.

  She dropped the coins into the vendor’s grimy hands, anxious to get away. With a shaking hand, she took the knife and slipped it into a small pocket on the back of her trousers, where it could easily be reached.

  Fiona raised her eyebrows. “What’s that for?”

  “Protection.”

  “From who?” Fiona grinned, a dimple appearing on one cheek. “Rieker gettin’ a bit cheeky?”

  Tiki forced a laugh as she fingered the cool, wooden handle. “Something like that.” She wouldn’t tell Fiona the truth. There was enough to worry about without scaring her as well.

  “Friiiied fish! Oysters, three for a penny!” The cries of a nearby fishmonger cut through the air. An omnibus filled with passengers blocked the middle of road, its two horses jerking their heads, causing the reins to jingle, as they waited impatiently to move forward.

  Tiki and Fiona cut around the carriage, always careful to avoid the steaming piles left behind by the horses. A brewer’s dray and a hay wain waited as well, along with private carriages and pedestrians. To add to the cacophony and chaos, street children darted in and out of the masses of people, shouting and laughing. Along the front of every shop hung rack upon rack of secondhand clothes for sale.

  Several times Tiki thought she’d spotted faces that didn’t seem to belong in the crowd, their skin too perfect, their features almost flawless; but when she’d look again, they’d be gone. An unsettled feeling wormed its way through her chest, a fear that she was starting to imagine things that weren’t there. Damn Rieker anyway.

  As they drew near to the racks of clothes on display, Tiki crinkled up her nose. “What is that smell?”

  “It’s the clothes. Most have never been washed,” Fiona said. “Come on.” She grabbed Tiki by the hand and pulled her along, weaving through the crowd. Her head turned this way and that as she examined the goods hanging in front of each store. “We need fine ladies’ clothes, not these rags that any woman on the street would wear.”

  Tiki looked at Fiona in surprise. “How do you know what fine ladies wear?”

  Fiona tossed her head. “I’m not blind. I know how a lady dresses. Besides,” she sniffed, “you know perfectly well that my mum was a seamstress before she passed.” She lowered her voice. “Remember, she used to work for MacGregor.”

  Though it had been almost two years since Tiki had escaped from the drunken attacks of her own uncle, she would never forget the abject fear she’d felt whenever he was near. Fiona had told her that MacGregor had the same mean streak, that he liked to beat women and children.

  “Wait.” Fiona came to a stop, her head swiveled to the left as she spotted a
nother rack of clothes. “Let’s go look over here.” She pulled Tiki toward a shop with an entire rack of dresses on display.

  “What are you looking for?” Tiki asked.

  “You need something fancy, but that won’t draw too much attention. A full skirt, but without a crinoline. How anyone can even walk in those things, I’ll never know.” Fiona was muttering to herself. “Something that gathers in back a little that might pass for a bit of a bustle.” Her eyes scanned the rows. Suddenly she stopped. Her dirty hand reached forward and pulled out the skirt of an ivory-and-gold-colored dress, twisting it this way and that in the light. “This might do.”

  Tiki considered the gown Fiona had found. “The neck looks a little low,” Tiki said. “And big.”

  “It’s meant to be worn off the shoulder,” Fiona replied. “Simple lines, the gold overskirt could really be quite spectacular in the right light, and we all know gold is a color the royals like.” She turned and looked Tiki up and down before turning back to the gown. “Might be a bit big, but we can take in the waist.”

  Tiki pulled up one edge of the skirt to survey the expanse of material. “That’s a lot of fabric, Fi.”

  “This dress has a lot smaller skirt than most of these, especially the dresses meant to go over a crinoline.”

  “Will I look odd if I don’t wear one?”

  “No.” Fiona snorted. “You don’t need one of those big old hoops anyway.” She hugged Tiki’s arm. “You’re going to be the most beautiful girl at the ball when I’m done with you.”

  Tiki smiled but didn’t reply. It was difficult to remember what it felt like to be a girl and impossible to even imagine being beautiful.

  Fiona shoved the gown back between the other gowns so it could barely be seen. “Come on. Let’s make sure we haven’t missed anything else.”

  Tiki followed through the rows of stands and hanging garments, feeling slightly lost and disoriented. She’d never had much interest in clothes when she’d lived with her parents. Now, she knew how much more freedom there was in a pair of trousers.

  “How much’ve we got in the coin purse?” Fiona asked.