Zydeco Queen and the Creole Fairy Courts

by Cutter, Leah

  Papa looked at Francine, then bit his lips together.

  Francine recognized the gesture—he was trying not to laugh.

  It still hurt that Mama wasn’t there to help them see each other. That they had no mirror there to reflect off of. But maybe they could learn to do that without her, now.

  Francine dropped her arms at the same time Papa did. They turned to face each other.

  “I missed you,” Papa finally said.

  “Oh, Papa,” Francine choked out as she crossed to where he was and flung her arms around him.

  “My baby girl,” Papa murmured, pulling Francine closer. “My number-one girl.”

  Something crashed nearby: a limb falling, or something worse, like a wild boar Fée on the hunt for more Seelie? Both Francine and Papa jumped.

  “We have to go,” Pierre repeated.

  “The woods aren’t safe.”

  Francine let herself be hurried along the path, but she kept looking back to make sure Papa followed.

  She wasn’t going to lose him again.

  * * *

  Gator eyes greeted Francine as the door swung open. She steeled herself from taking a step back. It didn’t matter if Brooks hated her now; he had to help her papa.

  Brooks’ stern eyes looked from one to another in the group before he said, “Y’all are like a bad penny, always coming back. Get in here.”

  He stepped to the side as they shuffled in, then turned and walked straight back through his house after he closed the door, expecting them to follow.

  Francine caught a glimpse of an empty living room and pale, bare walls, as if no one lived there. The kitchen was a homey contrast, a white-and-black tiled floor running into checked walls with a similar pattern. It could have been dizzying, but the bright red chair rail and shelves broke the pattern just enough.

  It looked like the kind of kitchen Aunt Lavine would have loved.

  It didn’t surprise Francine that the back of Brooks’ house looked like the field from his bubble world, with long green grass and spots of tall reeds. A faded blue rug lay along one side, and Jacque looked at them from it.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled.

  Jacque sounded friendly enough, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes.

  “You rescue them, too?” Brooks asked as Francine as her papa got Uncle Rene settled on the rug.

  Francine nodded, something tight and hard hurting inside at how Uncle Rene still worked to catch his breath after running through the woods.

  Jacque looked at Brooks, who nodded. Jacque disappeared inside the house for a brief moment before returning with moon wine.

  “This will help,” he told Uncle Rene, his fingers wrapped around his wrist to hold it steady as he sipped.

  When Papa took over, Jacque went in and came out with glasses for everyone.

  “This gonna be a habit of yours?” Brooks asked, his voice as hard as his eyes.

  Francine nodded.

  “Or maybe I just need to see if the third time’s the charm.”

  “Oh?” Brooks asked, not looking at Francine, his posture stiff, as if tensing for a blow.

  “We have to rescue the queen.”

  * * *

  “So what are y’all intending, exactly?” Brooks asked as they all settled down on the blanket for a “war council.” Stars shone coldly above, barely burning through the dark. The woods were quiet, every creature hidden away. The wind barely whispered above them.

  “I saw where they buried Queen Yvette. I know where she is,” Francine declared.

  “So?” Brooks asked, challenging her.

  “We can go get her back.”

  Brooks and Jacque exchanged a quick glance.

  “How do I know it’s not a trick?” Brooks asked.

  Francine looked down at the rug and picked at a loose thread.

  “The Unseelie—they were good to me. But they used me, worse’n you did.”

  From across the rug Francine could tell Papa had just sat up stiff and straight. She’d have to talk with him later to make sure Brooks didn’t come to an accident.

  “They used me,” Francine repeated. Now she looked up, staring directly at Brooks, her ready anger rising.

  “I won’t be used by anyone anymore.”

  Brooks met her eyes for a long moment.

  Francine couldn’t read anything in that golden glare.

  Finally, Brooks gave a curt nod.

  “I believe you. And I’m willing to work with you. But know that the rest of the court won’t be so kind.”

  He turned and looked at Uncle Rene.

  “While you’re still welcome to visit, I’m not sure how long you’ll be able to stay, now.”

  Francine swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Oh God. What if she’d just killed Uncle Rene by rescuing him and Papa?

  Uncle Rene reached over and placed his big hand on Francine’s knee, giving it a squeeze.

  “Don’t you fret. I have whatever time I have, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

  The silence strained as Francine struggled to swallow down her tears.

  “So, are we going?” Papa asked roughly.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Francine retorted.

  “You need every fighter you have,” Papa said.

  “I don’t care. You’re not—you’re never going back there,” Francine said vehemently.

  “But—” Jacque started.

  “No!”

  Francine glared at them all.

  “He might be right,” Brooks said with a sigh.

  “No. He is not.”

  Francine knew if she said one more word she’d start shooting flames at all of them.

  “I can’t deal with all you idiots right now,” she said as she stood up, stomping off the rug. The tall grass easily parted for her as she walked farther into the yard.

  She stopped at the back wall, where the trees started. Without thinking she reached out to touch one, then jerked her hand back.

  The moans of Queen Yvette still skittered across her palm, making her skin itch.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Francine turned to see Uncle Rene.

  “You should be resting,” she scolded, reaching for his hand and drawing him to a clear space between the tree trunks where he could sit down.

  “He worried about you every day.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Francine said. “He worried about himself.”

  “Child, I’ve never seen you be so willfully ignorant before. Just look at him.”

  Francine grimaced but did as her uncle asked.

  At first, it appeared Papa talked with Brook, Jacque, and Pierre. But after a few moments his eyes turned toward her, checking to see where she was. As Francine watched, Papa did it repeatedly, always looking toward her, always checking.

  “He never stopped looking for you, waiting for you, not even as the years passed.”

  “Years?”

  Francine’s stomach fell and her insides knotted in fear.

  “It’s been more than five years since you left.”

  Francine shook her head.

  “No. That’s wrong. It hasn’t been—” she counted in her head “—even eight months yet.”

  “No, darling. It’s been longer than that for him. First your mama, then you. That sorrow weighing him down.”

  Where had the time gone? Had it disappeared in the wilds, while she danced with the trees?

  “But you both seemed so happy when I saw you,” Francine snapped.

  “When was that?”

  Francine gestured toward Jacque and Brooks.

  “You know.”

  “We were happy to see them,” Uncle Rene said slowly.

  “And coming here did lift a stone off your papa’s heart. But he spent every day expecting to see you, to turn around and have you pop out of a corner somewhere.”

  Uncle Rene sighed.

  “With your mama, it was easier to let go. He knew he’d never see
her again. With you, all he knew was that his grandma had sent you away someplace and wouldn’t tell him where.”

  “Lady Melisandra’s my great-grandma?”

  Uncle Rene rubbed the back of his head and looked down.

  “No one explained, did they? Your relations.”

  “Papa wouldn’t talk about them. You wouldn’t talk about them,” Francine accused. She glared first at him, then at her papa across the yard.

  Papa met Francine’s gaze steadily for a moment before turning away, as he always did.

  “Darling, he wouldn’t really talk to me either. I don’t know what happened. His grandma raised him.”

  “So Queen Yvette is Lady Melisandra’s daughter?”

  Uncle Rene gave her a hesitant nod.

  “Not directly. Once or twice removed.”

  “Huh.” It didn’t make sense, but Francine got the general idea. She looked back at Brooks and Jacque.

  Maybe they really were her cousins, two or three times removed. Then she noted Papa had turned to look at her again.

  A soft breeze played with Francine’s hair, blowing it across her eyes. Just try, came the faint words.

  Francine would have sworn it was her mama talking.

  With a nod, Francine pushed aside her anger and really looked at her papa. He did look older; she’d noticed that before. Care wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, deeper and more downturned than the laugh wrinkles. When he glanced her way again, she finally saw the question in his eyes, the hope that she might care.

  “He was pretty mean,” Francine said quietly.

  “And he’s beat himself up about it, too.”

  “I don’t want to lose him again,” Francine finally admitted, her voice cracking.

  “All you have to do is let him in,” Uncle Rene said.

  “He’ll never let go of you, either.”

  It sounded so easy.

  Francine knew it would be harder than breaking apart oak branches twined together to give him more room in her heart.

  “I’d kill him if he got captured again,” Francine said. Or she’d kill herself.

  Uncle Rene chuckled.

  “That’s my girl. You show him just how bad it’ll be if he’s an idiot again.”

  Francine felt a smile creeping across her face though she tried to deny it. Then Francine turned and looked at Uncle Rene.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me, darling?”

  Francine merely glared at him.

  “I’ve already lived a full life.”

  Francine’s heart caught in her chest and her happiness froze.

  “That bad?” was all she could choke out.

  She reached out for him, grasping his hand.

  “‘Fraid so. That’s why Charles brought me here again.”

  “I’m sorry it had to be now—with all this,” Francine said, gesturing to the twilight and the screaming trees.

  “Now’s all I got,” Uncle Rene said.

  “So yeah, I’m going, too, to rescue the queen. Because you both need me, and I ain’t got nothing better to do.”

  Uncle Rene squeezed their joined hands.

  “Can’t be spending my afternoons making hush puppies here,” he added mournfully.

  With her other hand, Francine pushed away the tears that had welled up.

  “Well, if we’re all gonna be idiots, we might as well be idiots together. Come on.”

  Francine stood and helped Uncle Rene back to his feet. They walked arm in arm across the yard, back toward the others.

  Papa saw them coming and rose to his feet. At first, he looked like he was going to be stubborn, arms crossed across his chest. But seeing how loose and easy Francine walked, he let his arms fall, and looked puzzled.

  “Papa, if you get hurt or recaptured, I’m gonna kill you. All right?” Francine said as they drew near.

  Papa pressed his lips together as if to stop from smiling, but he nodded.

  “Fine by me, darling.”

  They all sat down again, this time with Francine closer to her papa, leaning into him sometimes as they made their plans.

  Later that night, when Francine found she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, she lay down with her head in Papa’s lap.

  Just before she slept, she realized how like a tree he felt, how comforting, solid, and strong.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “But I’ve never raised a bridge before, let alone a tree,” Francine complained.

  “Neither have I,” Papa admitted quietly.

  They still sat in Brooks and Jacque’s backyard, the morning finally winding its way through the trees. Birds sang beyond the wall, and a quiet breeze shuffled through the grass. Trails of clouds stretched across the sky, like wisps of dreams.

  Francine stubbornly resisted relaxing into the peaceful surroundings. Too much was at risk.

  “I have, though. Well, raised bridges. And other things. You can just follow me,” Pierre assured them.

  Uncle Rene, Francine, and Papa all shared a look at that.

  “I see the parallels, I do, Pierre, but I don’t know,” Francine said, shaking her head.

  “It’s close to the same. You just gotta find a way there, find that something under the ground and raise it up.”

  Pierre tried to show it with his hands, but ended up shaking them in frustration.

  The group stayed silent for a moment.

  “You sure you strong enough, boy?” Uncle Rene finally asked.

  Pierre sat up stiffly.

  “I have been the queen’s head fiddler for some time.”

  “That’s only since Charles never challenged you,” Brooks said quietly. “Or Francine.”

  Papa looked at Brooks, then bent his head and looked at the ground.

  Francine would swear Papa seemed embarrassed, except she’d never seen him ashamed her whole life.

  “I was young and stupid,” Papa said quietly, finally looking up at Brooks.

  Brooks nodded, a smile softening his hard gator eyes.

  “And I was even younger and more of an idiot.”

  Francine suddenly remembered the story Lady Melisandra had told about Papa stripping the clothes off a man. Had it been Brooks? Had that been what had driven him from the court?

  “So what do we do?” Jacque asked. “Brooks and I?”

  “Nothing,” both Papa and Uncle Rene snapped.

  “You stay here,” Francine added.

  She might have lost the battle about her kin coming, but if the only remaining royalty of the Seelie court came with as well, she’d have too many to defend.

  Pierre pressed his lips into a thin line.

  “I actually need you to hold the arch here.”

  “Why?” Francine asked sharply.

  Why would someone, anyone, have to keep a doorway open? Unless…

  “If you don’t make it. If you’re captured or killed,” Francine said softly.

  Pierre nodded. “The arch would collapse. And if we’re being attacked, y’all won’t have time to form another. If you even can.”

  “Then let’s make sure you stay safe,” Francine said. Though she was never sure how she felt about Pierre, the trees would feel more hollow without him.

  “Yes,” Papa agreed.

  Francine finally voiced her main concern.

  “What if the queen won’t come? She’s bound by honor to stay, you know.”

  “Not in pain. Not like that,” Brooks said firmly.

  His eyes abruptly turned white, like his mother’s had when Francine had locked the fetters on her wrists.

  Jacque bumped Brooks’ shoulder deliberately. Brooks glared at him, but his eyes turned back to normal.

  As normal as a gator glare would ever be.

  * * *

  It was daylight in the Unseelie woods as well when they stepped through. Francine didn’t know if that was a good thing or not—if more of the court would be awake and around.

  Depended on whether they’d had a
party the night before.

  Francine waited impatiently as the others came through the arch. The air wrapped around her, hot and sticky, making her itch. She glanced around the woods nervously, but all she saw were the trees, all she heard were the normal critters and wind. She didn’t think any of the Unseelie were close by, though she didn’t dare touch a tree to ask.

  Pierre came last. The archway dimmed after he stepped through, as if a dark shawl had been dropped over the opening. It meant the magic had worked, and the arch was being held on the other side.

  It also made the doorway obvious, which meant they had even less time.

  “Come on,” Francine said, leading them toward the Great Hall. They’d arrived at the bottom of the ridge, very close to the sloping hall, in a thicket. The woods only tried to trip her a few times, a twig playfully pulling at her hair. The other suffered more: Pierre started cursing in French as he stumbled along. Even Uncle Rene had some choice words about the branch that tried to rip his shirt.

  When they reached the Great Hall, Francine paused, searching.

  None of the Unseelie were there.

  “Is it a trap?” Papa asked.

  He’d grown pale again, being back in Unseelie territory.

  Francine didn’t know if it was the memories of being a prisoner or something else.

  Uncle Rene had the same haggard look.

  “I doubt it,” Francine said.

  Erastus had boasted that they’d hidden the queen. No reason to guard her.

  Francine turned to Pierre.

  “Do you know what tree she’s under?”

  “Of course,” Pierre scoffed. He pointed at the large oak growing on the side of the hall, its branches draped along the platform where the musicians played.

  “There.”

  “No,” Papa said, indicating the tree closest to them.

  “There.”

  Uncle Rene pointed to yet a different tree.

  “She’s under the willow,” Francine said, puzzled.

  She didn’t understand the magic at play here, and neither did any of her companions. Unease coiled in her belly and a small knot of fear lay in her chest.

  No one expressed any doubt of Francine’s claim, but she saw it in their faces. Stubbornly she walked forward, knowing they’d follow.

  The hall hadn’t changed as far as Francine could tell. A carpet of kudzu ran across the raised platform. Oaks, cypress, and palms grew boldly along the edges, not in neat lines like in the Seelie court but into the actual hall itself. The moss on their branches linked their limbs together.