by K. C. Lannon
Iain’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing.
James stubbornly faced the breaker waves of guilt that threatened to crash toward him. He looked down at Deirdre again. “She didn’t do anything wrong, and she certainly didn’t plan any attack. I was with her the whole time.”
When Iain was about to respond, James said, “She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, faery or not.”
“That may be the case, but she needs to be questioned by the Iron Guard, regardless.”
James scoffed. “Since when has any faery got a fair trial in Neo-London?”
“She could be dangerous.” He jabbed his finger in the direction where they’d just come from for emphasis. “You saw what she did to that thing.”
“Um, yes, I saw what she did. I saw her saving our lives. I saw her charge a creature to defend us with only a knife.” James’s voice grew louder, and he found himself unable to control his volume. “Look at her. She could be dying or sick, or something, all because she saved us!”
“What she did was brave, and I’m glad she did it. That monster deserved to rot for what it did.” Iain’s voice was laced with anger. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
James knew he had the advantage in their argument. “Why would she save our lives if she’s guilty? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just let us die?”
“I don’t know,” Iain ground out.
“She’s only used her magic when she or I were in trouble. She already saved my life once before. Why would she—”
“I don’t know!” Iain shot up from his seat, pushing past James, stepping carefully around Deirdre. “I don’t bloody know why she would save our lives. She should have just got out of the way. I don’t know why anyone would…” He stopped in the aisle, his back to James. “I don’t know anything right now.”
A thick silence fell between them. James knew it was his only chance to talk some sense into his brother. He had to think hard about what he wanted to say.
“Do you honestly think she did it—killed the king, I mean?” James asked. “You’re good at reading people, how they think, what they’re really like. Do you really think she could do it?”
“I only know what I’ve been told.”
“But what do you think?”
“I can’t trust anything but what I’ve been told. What I think doesn’t really matter in this situation.”
“But you’re good at—”
“No, I’m not.” There was so much more that Iain wanted to say, James sensed, but he knew that was all he was going to get.
“She won’t be treated fairly, and you know it,” James said. “Especially after what you said, that the Iron Guard has taken over.”
He knew that his brother still cared like he used to. He knew that, despite how hardened and rough he’d had to become just to survive in Neo-London, the version of him that honestly wanted to help was still present. He saw glimpses of the person he used to want to be like, the brother he’d looked up to nearly his whole life.
“The city isn’t safe. It’s not safe for her, and it’s not safe for you either.” Iain turned around in the aisle to face him tiredly. “But it’s got to be safer than wandering out here without a purpose.”
“It’s not without a purpose,” James said. “Deirdre and I are both looking for our families.”
That’s when James reached for his pack and produced the letters. Iain’s eyes lit up in recognition as James held out the parchment to him.
“Marko’s letters.”
“Mum’s letters,” James corrected him. He unfolded the paper, holding it out for Iain to see. He trailed his finger under the words, pointing them out. “Look at the lettering and the little drawings. It’s from her.”
“I didn’t take them,” Iain whispered, his mouth falling open in realization. “They’re from her, and I didn’t…”
James offered him a small smile. “It’s okay. I took them. What matters is that we have them now.”
James watched as Iain read the letter. Once. Twice. He read it through thoroughly, taking his time. He murmured something under his breath in their Romani language that James didn’t understand but thought might be a prayer or maybe more of a plea. He stared at James stupidly, wordlessly.
Just say something, James willed him. Get angry, or say it’s not true, even. Just say something!
“What, uh, do you think?” James asked nervously.
“This is why you left, isn’t it?” Iain lowered himself to sit on one of the seats again, the letter still grasped tightly in his hands. “Marko was trying to warn us, but I didn’t listen. God, why didn’t I listen?”
James bit his lip, thinking that now was not the best time to tell Iain about what Marko had done for him and how their father had chased him away the first time. He sat down next to Iain.
In the silence that followed, James focused on Deirdre lying on the ground, suddenly unable to look Iain in the face. His throat felt tight. As skeptical and cautious as he knew Iain to be around the subject of magic, James was afraid of what Iain would think of him after reading the letter, learning that he was marked.
Before Iain could answer him, Deirdre began to wake, sitting up slowly on the ground. She groggily attempted to pull a strand of hair that was plastered to her face from across her mouth.
Iain watched her closely, handing the letter to James. “Let’s get her up and moving.” He nodded to the letter in his hand. “And put that away for now, yeah?”
“But, Iain—”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
James gaped at him, heat swirling in his chest.
He’s just going to ignore everything like he always does. He’s just going to run away from the truth.
His resolve was leaden. There was nothing and no one that could force him to go back to Neo-London now, no matter what Iain decided. He figured his father could send the entire army after him, and it would still do nothing to sway him. He wouldn’t go back just so everything could go wrong again, to be trapped.
He wouldn’t let Deirdre give up so easily either.
We’re running away.
This time he acknowledged what he was doing and accepted it for what it was. He was running away, but it wasn’t like how Iain ran away by slowly poisoning himself with Pan to escape from a place and a reality they both resented. James would be doing something tangible and real.
He decided they would leave that night.
* * *
Deirdre was awoken first by James speaking faintly, as if in the distance, then the brusquer, closer sound of Iain saying, “Do you think you’re ready to keep going? We need to get out of here.”
Forcing her eyes open, she found everything in sight was a big blur. Her entire body felt drained and stiff, and her arms shook weakly as she pushed herself to sit up. When Iain insisted they travel out of the city and to the nearest town immediately, she did not protest or ask any questions. She could hardly think straight, and when James asked her if she was feeling all right, she opted to nod instead of speak. Speaking seemed too hard right now.
They headed out of the old bus, Deirdre missing the step down and slipping onto the pavement. James hurriedly helped her up, and she could barely smile in thanks. As they continued, she hung on James’s arm, her limbs light and wobbly, her head spinning. A couple of times Iain grabbed on to her arm to steady her when she caught her foot and nearly tripped over the rubble.
When they neared the end of old London, and the city center far behind them, her vision was clear and she took several deep breaths. Realizing just how hard she was holding on to James’s arm, she let go. When he asked again if she was all right, she grinned weakly and managed to say, “Just fine,” and then started walking ahead (more or less) steadily. Iain kept pace with her still; she wondered if it was to help her in case she slipped again or to just keep an eye on her.
Probably the latter, she thought with a sigh. It all makes sense though… He didn’t deny Alan sent him after me. That m
ust be why he’s here.
She glanced over at him; he met her gaze, sharp as a hawk. Quickly she looked back ahead.
It makes sense. He came after me, and James, because his father sent him… but now what? We’re not headed back down south. Is he really going to turn me in? I’m not a criminal! And I’m…
Looking down, she traced where the iron cuffs had been on her wrists and then rubbed her fingertips together, remembering how the magic had felt in them. I am a faery. Or half faery, or something. And that magic… She gulped. It wasn’t pretty. And neither was anything I’ve done before. This magic isn’t quite like anything James described to me or anything I’ve read about. Is that maybe why my parents gave me up? Because my magic was bad somehow?
James broke the silence, asking, “Where are we going?”
Iain turned to look at them. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted.
“Well, are we going back to Neo-London then?” James questioned. Before Iain could answer, James asked, more intently this time, “Are we going to find Mum?”
“I dunno, James. I just— I need to think, yeah?” Iain removed his beret and ran his hands through his hair. “There’s some things we need to discuss first.”
“Like what?”
“I need to talk to Deirdre, for one thing.”
“But then we’ll look for Mum, right?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never fancied the idea of looking for someone who couldn’t be found or didn’t want to be found.”
Deirdre looked at him, eyebrows raised. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.
It’s just like my parents and me…
Suddenly Iain’s radio buzzed to life, and a familiar voice broke through, though it was distorted by static: “—progress have you made? Have you found James and the girl?”
James’s brow furrowed, and he said what Deirdre suspected: “It’s Dad.” Then he reached out for the radio as Iain removed it from his belt. “Don’t answer him. You can’t tell him, Iain. We’re not going back to Neo-London.”
Iain started at the radio in his hand, swallowing hard.
“Iain, just give it to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iain scoffed, regaining his composure. “I’ve got to answer.” Then he began to veer off the road away from them, taking the radio with him.
Once he was probably out of earshot, James sidled over to Deirdre and whispered, “We’re not going to go back to the city.”
Her head suddenly spun, and she staggered to the side. “I-I agree,” was all she could manage in reply.
“When we get a chance… let’s get away and head for the Summer Court.”
“And look for your mum,” Deirdre reminded him, looking him in the eye. “And…” She rubbed her forehead, feeling like there was something else bothering her about James, but it was at the edge of her memory and could not be recalled. “And whatever else we need to do.”
He nodded. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
When Iain was certain he was out of earshot of the others, he hunkered down behind a dilapidated brick wall and produced his radio from his bag. For a flickering moment Iain hesitated before speaking. “General Callaghan, I’ve found James and the girl.”
“Well done.” General Callaghan’s voice rang through the radio. “There are troops stationed in the Surrey Hills. Head back there. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
Iain expected the sensation of validation to wash over him. He hoped he had made the right decision, the right call, but the assurance never came, and he knew in his gut that he hadn’t. “But I don’t think she’s guilty.”
“It must be difficult to hear you. Are you in the middle of a bloody field or something?”
“The girl isn’t guilty. I think she’s been framed for the attack. And she didn’t abduct James or anything. He left on his own.” His voice was almost uncertain at first but grew in confidence as he went on, and he wondered how his father could sound so intimidating over a radio.
Iain’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of General Callaghan’s voice on the other line, clear as a bell this time; it was exactly what he needed to hear to push all doubt from his mind. “Remember that Commander Prance died for this.”
Philip.
The name came with flashes of red gore. A swollen face. A twitching hand going limp in his grasp.
And sounds. The whistling of a chain through the air. A shout followed by silence.
Philip had thought that Boyd and General Callaghan had known about the attack at the memorial in advance. If Philip had any kind of ill will or agenda when he told Iain all those things, Iain reasoned, then he wouldn’t have died saving him.
This time when Iain spoke, his voice was firm and certain. “Philip told me what you did.”
Iain released the talk button and waited. He had always thought he knew his father well, but now he was not so certain after what Philip had divulged to him. However, he did think he knew his father’s nature well enough to know he’d get defensive even if he did not know what from.
After a while, General Callaghan’s voice sounded again, slowly. “You will follow orders and bring that faery girl to me, or I’ll have you tried for treason.”
Iain stared at the radio, unflinching at the words. “It’s true then,” he murmured to himself, not pushing the talk button.
“Do you understand me?” General Callaghan demanded. “Don’t let Prance’s sacrifice be in vain.”
“I won’t. I promise you that.” Iain shut off the radio.
When Iain returned, he saw Deirdre and James quickly retreat from where they had been sitting close together and obviously in deep discussion. James suddenly became preoccupied with fiddling with his notebook, and Deirdre avoided making eye contact, as subtle as a rockslide. When she started whistling, of all things, he might’ve scoffed if he could muster the energy and if the display wasn’t so pitiful.
“Feeling any better?” Iain asked Deirdre.
She raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised, but nodded.
“That’s good. Yeah.”
James was staring at him, eyes narrowed. “I doubt she’s feeling better enough to be dragged back to the city in chains.”
Iain ignored him. “Listen,” he said, focusing on Deirdre, “I need you to explain to me exactly what happened at the parade. Don’t leave anything out.”
“She already told you—”
This time Iain turned to James sharply. “James, I’m not talking to her as part of the Iron Guard now, all right? I need to know what happened. And I can’t do that with you running your mouth. Now take a walk.”
James looked between Deirdre and Iain for a moment before finally relenting. Slowly James stood to his feet and began to back away to a clearing with all the reverence of a guard dog. Iain might have been proud of James’s devotion to his friend had it not been so irritating.
“Hey,” Iain called after him, “don’t go too far.” Knowing James’s luck, he’d wind up falling into a ditch.
Iain sat down on the ground with a groan. He kept ample space between Deirdre and himself, for her comfort as well as his own. “So,” he asked, “what happened at the parade?”
She sat up straighter, stiff like a kid about to give her first oral report. “Well, I almost didn’t get to the parade. I went shopping the afternoon before, and as I was leaving, these soldiers came and said I had to go with them… basically I was”—she gulped—“I was under arrest. I went with them because… I mean, it all seemed like a big mistake. The Irish soldier said so.”
“Irish soldier?” Then he remembered what Philip had told him about Deirdre being arrested for suspicion of theft. “Go on then.”
“I was there all night,” Deirdre went on, “and then in the morning I managed to escape when I convinced a really tired old guard to let me use the loo. And I didn’t hurt him or use magic or anything! I just got lucky. And he was pretty tired. Anyway, I managed to run out, a
nd…” She shivered briefly. “One of them shot at me. I guess he thought I was a faery. I don’t know… Then I managed to run away and get to the parade.”
“They shot at you?” Iain asked incredulously, baffled.
Iain perhaps sounded too disbelieving, because before he could explain that his shock was at the guard for being so callous as to fire at an unarmed teenaged girl, Deirdre snapped, “Do you think I’m lying?”
“No, that’s not what I— I didn’t mean—” Iain fumbled uselessly at his words before giving up. “Just go on.”
“I don’t remember what time I got there… but I got there, and there was music playing and a crowd, and I remember seeing both faeries and humans there. So I crossed the street, and then I went over to this building… I think it was a store or something? I can’t remember…” She sighed, then continued, “Anyway, I met James there. Then we walked down the alley and out of a smaller exit of the city and outside.”
Iain nailed her with a skeptical look. “And?”
She frowned right back. “That was it. Honestly, nothing happened. It was just loud and noisy, but it was all normal. I wasn’t even on that road long enough to do anything except meet up with James.”
“So no one, faery or otherwise, approached you before the parade at any time about attacking the king or about anything else suspicious?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t speak to anyone that morning after running out of the jail. Until I met James. And we talked, obviously, but that was it.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Iain frowned thoughtfully. She didn’t seem like she was playing him, but he had heard tell of faeries and their ability to deceive, though he had never seen evidence of this. It was more like a silly superstition than anything else.
“Why did you go with James?” Iain asked. “That didn’t seem odd to you, a kid like him packing up and leaving during the start of a semester?”
“Yeah, it was weird. But he really wanted to do it, so I didn’t want him to go alone. He’s not experienced with camping, at all… I didn’t want him to hurt himself or get lost.” She giggled and added, “Or accidentally start a forest fire.”
