Moribund

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  “That’s not an answer,” I say, feeling like I’m the only person in the room that doesn’t get the joke. Only, no one is laughing. “How? How do you know each other?”

  Euphoria crosses her arms and raises her chin. Her blue eyes glint dangerously. “Do you want to tell her, Georgie, or should I?”

  My mom’s glare could peel paint, but then her gaze softens as she looks at me. Resolve settles her face into grim lines, and a spike of fear shoots through me.

  Maybe I don’t want to know.

  “I poisoned the dark Fae hearthstone.”

  Whoa, yeah…I so did not want to know that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rouen

  A childhood destroyed

  By white flame poison

  My world crashing down

  At the hands of the enemy

  - Euphoria, “Destroyed”

  I’m still a little out of it from obtruding back to the mortal realm only to find I’m not with Agravaine but with Syl. My entire body aches. I pumped out a ton of energy with my gramarye, the iron tracks sapping my strength as I fought the hell-hounds. One of them hit me like a Mack truck, and that’s how I feel—run over and hung out to dry. But Syl’s nearness, her kindness, the blazing heat between us…

  She brought me with her. That fact warms me to the tips of my toes.

  My sleeper-princess has a heart of gold.

  I’m determined to protect her.

  But this next part will be hard. Georgina Gentry is my enemy, an enemy of my people. I was only a child when she poisoned the hearthstone.

  She’s my personal boogieman—er…boogiewoman?

  And now here she sits, not ten feet from me. My good hand itches for my knives, but I grip my leather-clad knee instead. She’s still Syl’s mom.

  But I’m not letting her off the hook that easy.

  “Say it again.” My words come out deadly and low.

  She turns to me, those bright eyes level and serious. “I poisoned the dark Fae hearthstone.”

  Once, long ago, I’d dreamed of the joy it would bring me to see her admit her crime in front of her daughter. But now, when I see the look on Syl’s face—destroyed, disbelieving—a spear of pain lances my own heart.

  It gives me no pleasure at all.

  But it is the truth.

  And the sooner Syl accepts the truth—that her mother caused all of this and that she herself is the sleeper-princess—the better.

  I hate that it hurts her, but growth is often hurtful. Especially for the Fae.

  “What?” Syl whispers, her pretty face distraught as she looks at her mother. “How…? But you’re mortal.”

  “She is now.” My glare doesn’t waver. “But she wasn’t always.”

  Georgina gives me her mom stare, and it almost works. I catch myself fidgeting on the beat-up couch and stop myself. Damn, even mortal, the woman is scary.

  “Rouen’s ri—”

  “Euphoria,” I snap. Names have power, and I’m determined she’ll have none over me. “You don’t get to use my real name.”

  She sighs and sets down her teacup. “Euphoria is right. I wasn’t always a mortal. I was once a sleeper-princess. Like you.”

  I lean back, crossing my arms to make myself look more intimidating—hey, it works—and listen as she tells Syl.

  Georgina Gentry, sleeper-princess, sneaked into UnderHollow, entered the Winter Court and touched our hearthstone, the source of all our power. She simply laid a finger on it, but that was all it took. Her very touch infused the hearthstone with the foulest Faerie poison, the white-flame power of the sleeper-princess. Unable to draw in dark and shadow, unable to harness the power of magic in the wintry darkness around us, the hearthstone began to die.

  It’s her fault.

  I want to hate her, and I do, but for Syl’s sake I can’t completely hate her.

  Syl sits there, rocked. She doesn’t believe—I see it on her face.

  “It’s true.” The words come out as the memories assail me, the chaos of that night, the castle trembling on its foundation, the hearthstone filling up with foul white light, cracking, sending shockwaves through UnderHollow. Several of our elderly died instantly from the shock as it rolled over our land and all that was darkness was revealed in blinding, burning light. Countless more were wounded.

  And Mother… She died when the vaults collapsed.

  No wonder my father was so upset when I stood up for the sleeper-princesses.

  No wonder he punished me like this.

  I clench my Moribund hand so tight my glove creaks and look at Syl’s mom. “Go on. Explain it to her.”

  Georgina glares, but this time, I steel myself against her mom power. I remember glimpsing her in the dark hallway as she made her way to the hearthstone chamber. I didn’t think anything of it.

  I should’ve known. But how could I?

  I was a child.

  But not anymore. I’m sixteen now, almost an adult in my world.

  For me, it’s been twelve years, though here, in the mortal realm, it’s been many more—long enough for Georgina to get married, have Syl, and for Syl to grow up.

  We’re about the same age, Syl and I.

  I don’t have the heart to belabor the point—that her mother’s brought this dark fate down upon her.

  Syl looks at me, then at her mom. I don’t want to come between them, but the truth should be told. Then Syl can make her own decision.

  But Georgina’s glaring at me, and I’m glaring back. Great. We’re locked in a juvenile schoolyard staring contest. Weren’t you just saying that you’re almost an adult? the snarky part of me prods.

  Whatever.

  Georgina Gentry was my enemy.

  She might still be.

  I mean, she did show up at the front door with an iron poker to chase me away. That’s because you were macking on her daughter, Roue. I raise an eyebrow at her. Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t.

  Who can tell with a fair Fae? Except…Syl’s mom is no longer a fair Fae.

  I snarl and curl my fingers into the torn couch cushions.

  “—some tea?”

  With a start, I come back to myself and the room. Syl’s standing, an uneasy smile on her face. She’s got two teacups in her hands, and she’s moving to the kitchen to refresh them. “Would you like some tea?” she asks me again.

  The look in her eyes is pleading. I can tell she needs a moment alone.

  Who wouldn’t after all that’s gone down tonight? I totally get it. I am literally the poster child for introverts—well, except when I’m on stage.

  I give her a vague shrug-nod because I haven’t decided yet. Sharing food is a big deal among the Fae. There’s ritual and ceremony to it. You don’t just break bread with anyone.

  And certainly not with enemies.

  Time to hash this out—at least between me and ol’ Georgie.

  Syl leaves the room, and Georgina leans forward. “I regret what I did, you know,” she says softly, trying to look me in the eye.

  I meet her gaze. I’m not afraid of any used-to-be sleeper-princess. “Do you regret all the death and destruction you’ve caused?” I won’t tell her how the hearthstone is breathing its last gasps. That it’s only months, perhaps weeks or even days away from snuffing out completely, that our world is inches from collapsing, a guttering flame in the darkness. Even now, I feel it like a second heartbeat failing inside my chest.

  I won’t tell her that. I won’t give her the satisfaction. “Do you?”

  “I do,” she says, and I hear the sincerity in her voice. She glances over at the kitchen nook where Syl is bustling over tea and making snacks.

  “Umm…” Syl clears her throat, adorably awkward. “You guys are playing nice, right?”

  “Yes,” we both say in unison, narrowing our eyes at each other.

  Oh, I’ll play nice all right.

  “So you regret poisoning half of Faerie and then running away from it. Are you still working for them?” I loo
k around and glimpse the iron horseshoe over the front door, the iron nails cleverly woven into the curtain ties at the windows, the iron poker, though they don’t have a fireplace.

  In the kitchen, Syl loudly tears open a package, probably to mask the sound of our raised voices.

  “No,” Georgina says gravely, “I stopped any contact with the Summer Court after that night. After…”

  “My mom died.” The words feel funny twisting out of my mouth.

  She winces. “Yes. You have to believe me. If I had known—”

  My anger rises, gets the better of me, and my voice becomes a guttural snarl. “My mother thought there was another way, other than war between the fair Fae and the dark Fae.” My eyes fairly burn with anger as I glare at Georgina. “You were the one who ended that. She’s dead. Because of you. Those other sleeper-princesses are dead. Because of you. And your daughter is hunted—”

  “I get it.” Her voice edges in steel. “Because of me.”

  Syl comes back then.

  Blast it. I didn’t mean to lose my cool.

  Now I’ve upset her. She looks back and forth between me and her mom, but resolve settles in her grey eyes. “Let’s have some tea.” Her tone is commanding, and her gaze is shrewd on both of us—like she’s the mom and we’re two unruly kids. “All right?”

  Georgina and I both give grudging nods, and I add a dash of this isn’t over yet to mine.

  “Good.” Satisfied we’ll behave, Syl sets the tea tray down. Three cups of steaming hot tea, traditional cream-and-sugar service, and a selection of cookies.

  I try to wave her off, but she hands me a teacup, the little minx. She’s no dummy. She wants her mom and me to break bread, make peace. I’m not ready just yet, but I take the teacup anyway, for Syl’s sake.

  Our fingers brush, and at her touch, it’s like a spark jumps between us. It cools my anger even as it ignites my longing for her. Her grey eyes meet mine, and I see my longing reflected back. We are two kindred souls trying to break free of our pasts to find a future. I want to grab hold of her, fight with her, forge our future… Together.

  My eyes are burning again, but not with anger. I look down, not wanting to scare her with my intensity. You’ve got it so bad, Roue.

  Syl’s mom doesn’t miss the look between us, but she doesn’t say anything. At least not yet. Instead, she glances at the poker by the door.

  I shift and casually move my jacket back so she sees the glint of my black-handled knives.

  She gets it. I get it. Someday, we’ll probably kill each other, but for now…it’s all tea and cookies.

  “Now,” Syl says, polishing off her first cookie. “Tell me, Mom.”

  Georgina hasn’t eaten or drank anything either. She’s looking at me with an uncomfortable sincerity. “I didn’t know what I was when the fair Fae found me. I was…” She looks at Syl. “I was like you, Syl, young and unaware. And when I Awakened, I found out they were already watching me. People who I had thought were normal—the postman, my old sixth grade teacher, the crazy lady on the corner—they revealed their true selves. Fair Fae who were sent to watch me.”

  “Because you were a sleeper-princess?” Syl stops, her teacup halfway to her lips. Is she wondering who else in her life might be a Fae?

  Yeah, me too.

  As far as I know, I’m the only one. A bolt of jealousy seizes me. I want to be the only one.

  Certainly I’m the only dark Fae.

  So bad, Rouen, you’ve got it so, so bad.

  Georgina fiddles with her full teacup. “The point is…they used me. They sent me into UnderHollow. They told me if I touched the hearthstone—simply touched it—I would save thousands of lives. I’d be…” Her voice catches and she clears her throat. “A hero.”

  I hear the pain that word causes her. It’s how I felt when my father condemned me to be the Huntress.

  “Do you know what that’s like?” she continues, her voice soft. “Being told you’re a hero only to find out you’ve done something terrible?” Her hands shake, and Syl touches her knee.

  Despite myself, I’m feeling pangs of sympathy. Maybe she really didn’t know. After all, I’ve never trusted those fair Fae.

  Syl shifts uncomfortably on the love seat, her hand halfway to claiming another cookie. “But I thought the fair Fae were good, and the dark Fae…” She looks at me, her voice trailing off.

  Bloody bones, I know what she’s thought. “It’s not like that. The fair Fae aren’t necessarily good, not in the way mortals think of good. A fair Fae will still gut you like a trout just because you stepped on her foot at the ceilidh.”

  She looks shocked.

  “Our morality isn’t like human morality.”

  “But you’re different,” she says, and her faith in me burns hotter than the Moribund in my hand.

  Am I? I’ve done terrible things too. All those sleeper-princesses…

  To my surprise, Georgina gets me off the hook. “Euphoria’s more…hospitable than the others because she’s royalty. She’s the daughter of the dark Fae king, princess of the Winter Court.”

  Syl looks confused. “Don’t you mean the daughter of the dark Fae king and queen?”

  “My mother was the king’s consort, not a queen,” I clarify, hating that it’s all true. “There never has been queen of the dark Fae.” Perhaps that’s why Father had less of a problem giving me up to Agravaine. If I had been a boy—

  Whatever. One day there may be a dark Fae queen. It may even be me.

  One day, but today…today I have to concentrate on making sure we live past next month.

  Agravaine knows we’re together now. He’ll be after us as soon as he recovers.

  Syl bites her bottom lip. “But if…” She glances at her mom. “If you poisoned the dark Fae hearthstone, then…why aren’t they after you?”

  Crap. I was hoping she wouldn’t put this together, but my girl is smart. Still, I don’t relish the pain the answer will cause her. “Maybe you should get more tea.”

  But Georgina stops me. “No, it’s fine, Euphoria.” She chafes her hands. “I renounced my power.”

  “You…” Syl’s grey eyes light up—with hope? “How?”

  “I…”

  Now it’s my turn to save Georgina. “She simply said, ‘I don’t want to be a sleeper-princess anymore,’ and the power left her.”

  Syl raises an eyebrow like I’m trying to put one over on her. Mortals always have a hard time with the simpler rules of magic, and Syl, in particular, is a bit of a skeptic.

  “Um…okay?” she says.

  “And dark Fae don’t go after mortals.” I lean forward to reach for the teacup. “There are a few exceptions, but once your mother became mortal, she was beyond our grasp.”

  And she does seem really sorry. My fingers brush the handle. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to break bread—or cookies—with her.

  And that’s when our alliance shatters.

  She leans forward, meeting Syl’s gaze. “You could do that too, Syl.”

  “Do what?” Syl asks. She’s so innocent.

  Georgina drops it like a bomb. “Renounce your power. Now that you’re on the verge of Awakening, you can choose. Become mortal. Stop being a sleeper-princess.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Syl

  Many powers of Faerie

  Work by will

  A sleeper-princess must want to be a sleeper-princess

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  “You can renounce being a sleeper-princess.”

  Mom’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I feel like Euphoria must feel—wrecked. It’s never occurred to me to look for a way out.

  “You could have a normal life, Syl.” Mom’s really warming to the idea, and I can’t lie. After a night of terror and running and screaming Jurassic Park-style, normal sounds pretty good right now. “That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be normal?”

  “You mean boring.” Euphoria huffs and pushes away the teacup she’d been rea
ching for.

  Darn it all. There goes my play for peace between them.

  “Don’t,” Mom snaps, glaring at Euphoria sharp as knives. “Don’t fill her head with nonsense.”

  “I would never tell her nonsense.” Euphoria’s eyes fairly glow, the golden rings burning like circles of fire through the blue. “Only the truth.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Syl.” Mom looks at me, and I see the mom-worry piled up from all those years spilling over. All the years she and Glamma protected me.

  Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should…be normal. After all, it’s all I ever wanted. To fit in, to be popular, to have friends. It’s hard enough just getting through sophomore year, never mind being a total pariah, a sleeper-princess chased and hunted.

  “The dark Fae will be after you,” Mom prods. I know she’s doing it for my own good, and a healthy dose of daughter-guilt floods me. “You’ll be running for the rest of your life. They’re relentless. And once the Hunt has your scent, it won’t stop.”

  Euphoria snorts through her nose. “Way to scare the crap out of her.” But the way she folds her arms, all defensive-like, tells me Mom’s not too far off the mark.

  Mom sighs. “I’m not doing this to scare you, Syl, but…you have to think of these things. Things that she isn’t going to tell you.”

  “Me?” Euphoria says, giving my mom the dark Fae version of stink eye. “What about you, Little Miss I Poisoned the Hearthstone but Conveniently Forgot to Tell You?”

  Mom blushes, and like me, her fair complexion carries it from her cheeks to her neck. “At least I’ll protect her for real.”

  “And I won’t?” Euphoria sits up straight like she’s going to go full-on supervillain and launch at my mom. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “I’m calling you a dark Fae.”

  Euphoria stands up. My mom stands up.

  For a long, tense moment, they have this epic staring contest, Euphoria all statuesque and Mom, shorter, still fierce as any Irish warrioress. And it’s more than staring. They’re sizing each other up, looking for a weakness. The first one to flinch loses.

  Euphoria’s face is flushed, her blue eyes glowing and intense. I can feel the fury coming off her in waves, and her scent hits me—the crisp dead leaves of autumn, amber, and bourbon-vanilla. Like you even know what bourbon smells like, Syl. Oooh, but I can imagine. Clad in leather, she’s just about the coolest, hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Everything about her attracts me—her look, her scent, her heat.