by Cutter, Leah
When Erastus came to dance in front of the stage, the stork-like man nudged Francine, then deliberately slowed the pace a little.
Francine swallowed down her spike of anger and followed, letting him lead them to the closing chords of their current song and bring them crashing down.
The court howled their approval, clicking their claws and stomping their feet. Erastus hopped up onto the stage and addressed the crowd.
“Francine!” he called out, drawing her forward.
“Our Zydeco Queen!”
Francine had to swallow against a large lump in her throat. She lifted her chin high, then curtsied, deeply touched. She couldn’t believe her luck. She’d finally found a place where she could do what she loved: Make people dance to the music of her choosing.
“Want to meet ’em?” Erastus yelled the question so everyone in the clearing heard.
The crowd cheered in response.
“I’d love to,” Francine said.
Erastus looked over his shoulder, and the stork-like man started up a quick two-step.
Puzzled, Francine followed Erastus into the clearing. She was even more puzzled when he made it clear they were going to dance together.
Smiling, Francine danced with Erastus. His palms remained overly warm but not sweaty. He made it easy for her to follow, showing Francine where to go with strong hand gestures and footwork.
At the end of the song, Erastus handed Francine off to another partner. He had the snout of a pig and hooves for hands, with the body of a man. He wore a beautiful gray suit, complete with a white shirt and red silk tie.
Francine tried not to hesitate but to accept her new dance partner and flow into position. She took his warm hoof and tentatively placed one of her hands on his shoulder, sliding on the silk of his jacket.
“Julius,” the pig-man said smoothly.
“So pleased you’re here.”
He moved with an unmistakable grace. Erastus had been a snappy dancer. Julius was more sedate and moved with an enviable grace.
“Let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I have a nose for finding things,” he said with a wink.
Despite Julius’ frightful appearance and beady, hard eyes, Francine relaxed. He seemed charming and she appreciated the offer of help.
Francine’s next partner had tan skin and two large diamonds in variegated colors on her cheeks. Only after Francine took her hands did she realize the pattern was that of a copperhead.
The woman blinked lazy snake eyes at her and smiled with thin lips. Her hands were cool against Francine’s, her skin smooth and scaled.
“Eula.”
She moved more stiffly than Francine expected, but quickly, leaving Francine breathless as she was handed off to the next person.
Francine couldn’t remember everyone’s name, though she did try. It was exhilarating to move around the clearing like this, constantly dancing, trying to match a new partner’s style. The court laughed and joked with each other, not trying to outdo each other or cut each other off. Their behavior helped Francine relax more. They all understood when she took a misstep or when they bumped into each other.
Though this court looked more frightening, they acted more like regular people and less like high school teenagers.
Finally, Francine escaped back to the stage. The musicians took turns introducing themselves: Amos, the stork-like man; Claire on the accordion; and Harley played the washboard.
Francine happily joined them, making music until dawn. She took a few more turns on the dance floor, dancing again with both Erastus and Julius, learning new steps.
It was obvious to Francine when the party started winding down. A few hardcore dancers remained on the floor, but many had already flitted away, up the winding paths.
Amos announced that the next song would be their last. It was a quaint lullaby, a classical piece that Francine didn’t know but loved instantly.
When they finished playing, Julius made his way to the stage.
“I’ll show you where to sleep when you’re ready,” he assured her.
Francine nodded, grateful that someone had offered to look after her.
“Have fun?” Julius asked as he led Francine away from the clearing.
“More than you can imagine,” Francine assured him. She took a deep breath, savoring the spicy scents of the woods. She’d expected to be still riled up, the excitement of playing still surging in her blood, but as they walked she did find herself crashing. She plodded along the path, pleased that Julius seemed to sense her mood and didn’t try talking to her.
“Here,” Julius said, finally stopping on the edge of a clearing. A quiet brook ran through the trees just ahead. The wind barely rustled the grass and leaves.
Francine looked at him, puzzled, her whole body sagging with exhaustion.
Julius chuckled softly.
“Just coax some limbs down to make a nest.”
“Ah,” Francine said, nodding. She’d done this in her meadow, in the wild lands. She walked up to the closest tree and petted it softly. The bark didn’t try to prick her this time. Instead, the tree made a sighing sound and bent over, easily arranging its limbs into a nest for her. Francine eagerly crawled in, already mostly asleep.
“Good night,” Julius softly called.
“Good night. Thank you,” Francine said as she curled up.
She had a brief moment of worry before sleep claimed her: Was this all too good to be true? Would the fairies revert to being petty and nasty the next day?
Then she couldn’t worry about it anymore.
She could always go back to the wilds if she discovered that she hadn’t found a home here.
* * *
Francine woke to bright sunlight and blue sky above her, the earth far below. She stretched and thought about what she was going to do, whether she’d try to find the other musicians for a jam, if she could find something to eat. Finally, she reached over and tickled the tree. With alarming speed it bent over and Francine scrambled to find her feet before being tossed out.
When Francine looked around, she spied Julius standing a short ways under the trees. He wore another suit, this time a more somber black, with a dark blue shirt and no tie. A solid gold chain hung around his neck, thick and rich.
“Let’s find some grub,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Francine fell in beside Julius easily, walking to a clearing filled with clumps of bushes. The leaves were budding on many of them, bright green against rich brown stems.
It was the first sign of spring that Francine had witnessed.
It made her pause: Her first spring without Mama. Then she shook her head and banished those thoughts.
“Allow me,” Julius said, walking over to a bush and humming at it, then placing one of the twigs between the split of the hoof on one hand and stroking it gently with his other.
Bright yellow berries formed following the passing of his hoof. They looked like candy.
Still, Francine was wary, remembering the lost afternoon with Brooks and Jacque. She took one cautiously, then nearly spit it out, surprised at its sour taste.
Julius laughed at her face.
“Let me guess. The Seelie only fed you sweet things, yes?”
“Seelie?” Francine asked. She cautiously took another berry. The sour taste remained, but more like lemon, less like grapefruit. She didn’t feel any warning warmth of liquor, so she took another one.
“Child, they told you nothing. Here.” Julius led Francine out to the center of the field, trampling down some of the grass before sitting with a grunt. Francine sat next to him, nibbling on the berries he’d carried with him.
“Two courts make up the Féerie,” Julius explained.
“The Seelie have been called the light court. I think it’s because they like wearing gauze,” he confided.
Francine giggled. Even the queen had wanted Francine to dress lightly, not approving of her boots.
“The Seelie are supposed to help traveler
s, polish shoes, and make you oatmeal when you’re sick. Except that court would lead a traveler off a cliff, use acid so your shoes fell apart, and put sneezing powder in your soup.”
“What happened to them?” Francine asked. She remembered the stories that Mama and Uncle Rene had told her about kindness returned for kindness given.
Julius shrugged his shoulders expressively.
“Maybe it was coming here. Maybe it’s the queen. But they’re not as kind-hearted as they once were.”
Francine nodded, thinking. She couldn’t deny that the Seelie court had a dark edge to it that made her uncomfortable. Papa had been right. Then she shoved that thought away and asked, “So if they’re the Seelie, what are you called?”
“They call us the Unseelie. Just because we wear black instead of gauzy things, and don’t hide our true nature, we’re labeled unblessed.” Julius snorted. “King Erastus is a good king. You’ll find more goodness here, mark my words.”
Francine nodded. She’d certainly found more passion in the Unseelie court. Some of the court had been kinder, too, at least so far. She wasn’t surprised to discover that Erastus was the king. It fit him, somehow.
“How long have you been here?” Francine asked, feeling bold.
Julius grinned at Francine, showing sharp teeth. “Was born here. Grew up in these trees, near the bayou. Danced at the blood moon and celebrated every solstice. I know these byways and trees better than the back of my hoof. Never gone to the human lands.”
His eyes changed as he spoke, from dark to solid black. He seemed to grow larger and his skin grew more mottled.
“Welcomed the change of the moon and the coming of the sun.”
He shook himself, shrinking back down, his eyes going beady and dark again.
“Well, only when I stayed up all night. Otherwise I generally slept through the sunrise.”
Francine laughed. Julius reminded her in some ways of her Uncle Rene, steady and strong, but always calling his own tune.
He’d also reminded Francine that regardless of how friendly this court was, they were still fairies, still other.
* * *
Francine wandered back to the fern house after Julius left, wiggling under the fallen tree branches to get in. The burned moss felt stiff under her fingers, and she missed the smell of the sweet bushes that bloomed alongside the human version.
Homesickness engulfed Francine. She missed everyone: Mama, Uncle Rene, Papa, her cousins, even her teachers. She wanted to eat one of Uncle Rene’s hush puppies, or even some of Aunt Lavine’s crawfish stew.
When she’d felt this way before, in her meadow, she’d played wild songs, either sad enough to make the trees weep, or crazy enough that everything around her danced and whirled.
That was where Francine really wanted to go. But how? No one had ever taught her how to create an arch.
Francine made her way back to the grand hall. Erastus wasn’t there, but Eula was. She sat on the far side of the hall, hissing up at a tree. Francine wasn’t quite sure what Eula was doing with it—making it grow, or perhaps giving it fangs.
Eula looked up as Francine approached, the diamonds on her cheeks bright red, her eyes yellow and staring.
“Hey, how you doing?” she asked, her voice more friendly than her alien demeanor.
“I was looking for Erastus,” Francine said.
“No idea, hon,” Eula said, shaking her head.
“Anything I can help with?”
Francine remembered that Eula was the second in line, after Julius, to dance with her. She assumed that meant something in the Unseelie court.
“I wanted to go visit my old woods,” Francine admitted.
“And no one’s showed you how? I swear, those men are worse than useless. Here.” Eula stood and turned Francine around, so her back was to Eula’s front. Eula wrapped her left arm around Francine’s waist, then lifted her right hand by the wrist.
“Now cut the air. Like this.”
Eula moved Francine’s hand in the rough shape of a doorway.
Nothing happened.
“Ya’ll know where you want to go?” Eula asked.
“You got to think of it, now, hard. It’s important to know where you’re going.”
Francine nodded, flushed and unsure. They tried the gesture again, but still no doorway formed.
“Okay, sugar, let’s try this.” Eula let go of Francine and she stepped away.
Francine tried not to shiver. The snake-woman had been so warm against her back, the regular air suddenly felt chilled.
Eula looked critically at Francine for a moment.
“So, you know, air’s always moving.”
Francine nodded, not sure how that made any difference.
“You got to make it solid, hard enough to cut. Like weaving tree branches together.”
“But how do I do that?”
Eula opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“You’re a musician, right? So how would you make a note solid? I’ve seen you flinging sparks. This is the same thing. You can do it.”
Though she smiled at Francine, her eyes stayed cold.
Francine turned away and frowned at the blank space in front of her.
How did she make her notes solid?
With passion and belief.
Francine closed her eyes for a moment, letting her longing return. She heard the notes she’d play as soon as she was in her woods again, watched them weave together into a thick braid, made up of long, silver fiddle-strings. When she opened her eyes, she made a C with her hand, imagining the braid pressed against the webbing of her thumb, then pulled the braid along. Once she got going, she could actually see it forming, solid and thick, outlining a round opening.
The air inside the outline of the rope shimmered.
Francine couldn’t see anything on the other side. She knew where she wanted to go, where she’d imagined.
“See?” Eula asked. “Now don’t just stand there admiring your handiwork. Get going.”
“Thank you,” Francine told her. She took a deep breath, then pushed her way through.
Suddenly, Francine stood in her meadow. She looked around, not quite believing that she’d managed this all on her own. She laughed. She could go anywhere now.
Why hadn’t anyone in the Seelie court showed her this? Francine’s ready anger came up. They’d wanted her to be dependent on them. Why had she needed the flower and the pain? Why hadn’t Lady Melisandra merely shown her how to make an arch? She flexed her hand. Tiny white scars still dotted her palm. Such a waste.
Would Francine be able to get back? She turned and saw the vague outline of her doorway still standing there. Plus, even if it collapsed, she knew where she was going. She could form another doorway if she needed to.
With a grin, Francine pulled her fiddle from her back and raced to the edge of the meadow. She stood under her trees and played a welcoming trill at them.
No response.
“Aw, don’t be sore at me. I’m sorry,” Francine said, still smiling. She played a longer piece, a little faster.
The trees stirred slightly, but that could have been from the wind as much as anything.
Worried, Francine played a full song, driving the notes up into the air, into the limbs of the trees. One by one they began to sway, but slowly, sluggish and old.
Maybe they’d been asleep. Francine reached out to pet them, worried. She examined their trunks. She didn’t see any bugs or disease.
However, more than one had silver spiderweb thread encircling them, something she’d never seen before.
Puzzled, Francine played more. The trees just ignored her fast-driving tunes, and didn’t respond at all to anything quiet, so she had to find a medium rhythm that they’d follow. She played for hours, until her fingers cramped and her legs shook, but she still felt like they’d never fully woken.
Though it broke her heart, Francine couldn’t stay there that night. The trees weren’t aware enough to make a nest or p
rotect her. With regret, she told them farewell and went back to the Unseelie court.
It was dark there as well when Francine stepped through. She easily made it through the woods to the meadow Julius had shown her, and coaxed a tree into scooping her up for the night.
The next day, Julius waited under the trees when Francine rose, inviting her for food and conversation again. They ended up sitting at the base of the black walnut trees next to the meadow.
When Francine told him how her trees wouldn’t wake up, Julius sighed heavily. He looked over his shoulder, as if making sure they were alone. Then he said, “It was them. Her. I bet.”
“What do you mean? Who?” Francine said, hairs standing up along the back of her neck and her anger already rising.
“Yvette.”
Julius spit after saying the name.
“She probably came to see you. When she couldn’t find you, she punished those who had helped you. They’ve been put to sleep, their will stripped from them so they could tell her about you.”
Francine didn’t know what to say. She believed Julius, though. Maybe the spiderwebs had been the leftover residue of the magic. After a few moments of silence, while Francine clenched and flexed her fists, she finally spit as well.
“Damn her.”
It was like high school all over again: When Billy couldn’t attack Francine, he and his buddies attacked her locker and her things.
Julius looked around again.
“Did you hear what else she did?”
“No.” Francine already felt her gut rolling.
“She tried to push her court’s boundaries out. Again.”
“What?”
“She’s trying to increase her territory. Take over our woods.”
“She can’t do that!” Francine said, outraged. “These are our trees,” she said, reaching out and stroking the rough bark. The bare winter branches rubbed against each other, a tinny protest.
“But what can we do?” Julius asked, giving that expressive shrug of his.
“Fight her off, sure, but we can’t patrol all our territory, all the time.”
“We have to stop her,” Francine said. Though it might be as unfair as high school, this time Francine had more power.
