Donovan stepped protectively closer to me, as though worried Jade Blossom might strike me.
Chrissy pressed her hands together in a clap of discovery. “How sweet. He’s fallen in love with her.”
Jade Blossom’s mouth fell open, and she let out an indignant cry. “Of all the underhanded tricks!”
Chrissy’s wings flapped happily. “Love trumps skill and invisibility. My mortal wins.”
Jade clenched her wand, anger making it tremble. I was afraid she was about to curse someone, but instead she let out a humph and disappeared. All that remained of her was a falling trail of green glitter where she’d stood.
“So,” Chrissy said in a cheerful tone that didn’t match our surroundings. “The good news is Jade Blossom doesn’t get the goblet. The bad news is I don’t have enough magic to send three of you to the twenty-first century.”
My heart stuttered. “What?”
She shrugged apologetically. “I did tell you I’m only a fairy godmother in training. I have restrictions on what I can grant mortals.”
The birds were coming. The rumble of their cries sounded from somewhere over the forest. Donovan pointed to the goblet. “We know how much your people want this cup. In order to get it, you have to send all of us back. That’s the deal.”
Chrissy returned his gaze steadily. “I’d help you out if I could. Really, it would be much easier to wave my wand than stand here and argue with you about it, especially when Queen Orlaith and her minions are about two minutes from reaching us.”
Jason nervously switched his weight from one foot to the other and searched the sky. “I don’t want to be a frog again.”
“Magic is being rationed,” Chrissy went on. “The trees are dying here, and they’re not doing so well in my land either. I had to cut corners on your wishes as it was.”
I knew it. If Queen Orlaith hadn’t been about to converge on us, I would have had a thing or two to say about that.
“There must be a way,” I said. “Borrow some magic. Call someone.”
“There’s not enough time.” Chrissy raised her wand, glimmers of magic running along its edges. “Choose who to take with you.”
Jason nearly pounced on me. “She’s taking me.” He gripped my arm. “You promised.”
I looked at Donovan, hoping he had another solution.
“Take us somewhere safe so Sadie can decide,” he said.
Chrissy shook her head. “Queen Orlaith already sealed off the area.” Her voice was as calm as if she was talking about some inconsequential weather front moving in. “I have enough magic to get myself and two other people out of here—preferably to send you to your final destinations.” She glanced at the sky over the forest. “You have about a minute and a half left to decide.”
Jason tugged on my arm. “You said you would get me home or die trying.”
I had promised, but I wanted to take Donovan. I had to. I stared at him and gulped.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I saw our entire future slipping away. All of the things Donovan and I planned to do together when we got home. It was gone. “No,” I said.
“Yes.” Jason gripped my arm harder. “Listen to Donovan on this one.”
Donovan pointed a finger at Jason. “You’re not getting off that easy. You’ve got to promise you’ll do whatever she asks. You’ll help her with her singing career. You’ll let her open for your concerts. You’ll take her to prom.”
“Prom?” I interjected. Why would he think I wanted that? I hadn’t even wanted to dance with Jason at the midnight ball.
“It will cause a sensation,” Donovan explained. “The tabloids will love it. It will launch your career.”
“I promise,” Jason said, nearly yelling. “Now give the fairy the goblet.”
Donovan pulled the invisibility cloak up so it covered his shoulders. He smiled, his eyes locking on mine. “You’ve got the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. The world needs you. You’re going to have a great life.”
He was trying to make me feel better, but each word stabbed me with regret. I didn’t want to do what I knew I had to do. I couldn’t see another way, though. Only two of us could go.
Jason hung onto my arm like a human anchor, so I didn’t walk to Chrissy. I tossed her the goblet. Well, technically I threw it at her. After all, there’s a fine line between toss and throw.
She caught it easily enough, plucking it from the air before it smacked her in the stomach. “Who do you choose?” She examined the goblet, turning it eagerly over in her hands. The glow around her grew brighter and her wings lifted in excitement.
“Jason and Donovan go,” I said. “I stay.” It had to be that way. I couldn’t strand Donovan here. Not when his brother needed him. Not when Queen Orlaith was coming, looking for vengeance.
Donovan’s eyes flew wide. “No!”
“You’re smart, clever, and good,” I told him. “The world needs that sort of person more than it needs singers.”
He stepped toward me, but it was too late. For once, Chrissy did what I wanted. Lights sparkled and flashed around us. Like a concert, I thought. An auditorium full of fans taking pictures.
I heard sounds of creaking and popping coming from the forest trees. Perhaps they were leaning in for a closer look at what was happening. Perhaps they were reaching for the goblet one last time, trying to grasp hold of it. The lights faded and I stood alone. No, not alone. The shriek of birds coming from above let me know they’d found me. Any moment now Queen Orlaith would arrive.
Chapter 28
I didn’t run, couldn’t. The birds swooped down, swirling around me, ravens and owls alike, a whirlwind of flapping wings. “Girl! Girl!” the ravens shrieked. The flap of their wings sounded wrong too loud, like thunder rumbling across the sky. With each pass they tightened their circle until I felt like I was in the eye of a hurricane. They smelled of dirt and steel, of sword blades that had yet to be drawn. I held my hands in front of my face to keep them from diving in and pecking me.
“Stop!” a voice yelled. The queen’s.
The birds pushed upward. Several black feathers littered the ground near my feet, dropped in the frenzy. The birds flew back into the trees, disappearing like smoke vapor.
No, they hadn’t all vanished. One large black raven sailed across the sky toward me, cutting a slash in the moon’s silhouette. The queen watched it with a sigh.
In a flash, the bird transformed. One moment its wings were outstretched and gliding, the next Kailen dropped down in front of me, elegant and muscular. He was dressed in his usual black, but his hair wasn’t smoothed back in a ponytail like it had been at the dance. It was loose around his shoulders and the ties of his top were undone as though he’d been relaxing somewhere and hadn’t bothered to do them.
“Well, our thief is revealed.” He eyed me smugly. “What do you have to say about that, Mother?”
“I shall apologize to you at length later.” She stepped closer, eyes firm and hard in her pale face. Her red lips were vicious, nearly snarling. “Right now I only have one thing to say.” She leaned toward me, her face inches from mine, and enunciated her words with icy resolve. “Where is my goblet?”
I was trapped. Any sort of escape was hopeless. I could only face my punishment with dignity. I stood straight, chin lifted, but my hands trembled at my side, quaking traitors. “It’s gone. I’m sorry. I had to trade it so my fairy godmother would take Jason back home.”
I left Donovan’s name out of it. No need to drag him into this.
The creaking, popping sound came from forest again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kailen staring into the forest, puzzled by the noise.
“Deceiver,” the queen hissed. “Mortal trash. I invited you to my ball as an honored guest and laid a banquet before you.” She took hold of my arm and yanked me toward the forest. I planted my feet but it didn’t matter. With her magic, she was strong enough to drag me wherever she wanted. She strode along the
path at a fast pace. I stumbled after her, listening to her accusations.
“I brought you to a place humans only dream of glimpsing, and you repay me thusly?”
“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”
“No choice?” Her nails bit into my arm. “’Tis true enough. Mortals by nature are selfish, greedy liars.”
The accusation was too much, especially since Queen Orlaith had stolen the goblet from another fairy queen. I nearly pointed out I’d just been used as a tool in fairy intrigue, but I didn’t say the words. Part of me hoped Chrissy hadn’t completely deserted me. Surely a lingering sense of responsibility would draw her back here. It was better not to direct Queen Orlaith’s wrath that way. Instead I said, “You only invited us to the ball to feed your trees.”
“Oh, you will feed my trees, my dear.” She pulled me harder, making me stumble. “Your blood will water their roots.”
“Mother!” Kailen said, appearing at her side. “The trees—look at them.”
Queen Orlaith’s gaze shot to the silver trees up ahead. She gasped and stopped so quickly I almost ran into her.
I followed her gaze to see what had startled her. The silhouette of bare branches had changed. No longer did their arms reach upward like smooth candelabras. Buds had opened. New leaves shimmered in the moonlight, sleek and stretching.
Queen Orlaith let out another gasp, a happy one, a cry of joy. She let go of me and reached out to the trees like she wanted to caress each one. “At last.”
I took a couple of cautious steps backward, wondering how far I could get away before she and Kailen noticed. As it turned out, not far.
Kailen’s eyes returned to mine, questioning and sharp. “What caused the trees to grow?”
I had no idea . . . was too worried to puzzle it out. If I pretended to have answers, they would keep me alive. But how could I pretend? I couldn’t even tell a small lie.
“The fruit,” the Queen murmured. “Perhaps it too has ripened.” Her voice grew more certain. “Yes, it may have.” She strode over and took hold of my arm, hard. “Did your love trigger the trees to grow? What did you do?”
I stared at her unspeaking. The answer came to me, drenched with all sorts of unpleasant implications.
I had sacrificed my future for Donovan’s. That had been the act of love that finally made the trees grow. It was the reason the goblet had told Queen Orlaith only mortals’ love would work. Fairies couldn’t sacrifice for each other that way. They were magical and immortal. What could they sacrifice?
I couldn’t tell Queen Orlaith any of this. If she thought sacrifice made her trees grow, what would she require from mortals next? She would most likely endanger the princesses to make their princes sacrifice for them.
I wouldn’t bargain for my life, not if it meant putting others in danger.
“How could I know anything about your trees?” I asked. “I’m just an unimportant mortal. Carry out whatever sentence you’re going to give me.”
The silver trees’ branches popped and creaked—the same noise I’d heard earlier. As I watched, the outlines of more leaves unfurled and grew. I had sacrificed again, and it had taken effect.
I pressed my lips together, afraid to say more. I didn’t want the fairies to guess what I knew.
The queen’s grip on my arm tightened. She yanked me closer as though she could read my secrets in my eyes. “You did something. You will tell me everything, or you will suffer.”
The irony of her threat didn’t escape me. “If you have to torture someone to learn about love, you won’t understand it.”
Near my side, Kailen paced impatiently. “I’ll check the trees at the pavilion and see if their fruit is ripe.” As he spoke the last word, he spread his wings. With his smooth black feathers, he looked more like a dark angel than a fairy. He shot away, vanishing over the treetops so quickly I couldn’t tell whether he’d stayed a fairy or transformed back into a bird.
The queen glanced at me, then at the sky, undecided. She pursed her lips unhappily. “I’ll go with my son.” I felt her uneasiness more than heard it. She wanted to be there when he checked the fruit.
Perhaps she was one of those ultra-controlling people who couldn’t delegate important tasks, or perhaps she had reasons not to trust Kailen. Whatever the case, she dropped hold of my arm.
For one hopeful moment I thought she might free me, that she was so happy to have the trees growing again, she’d spare me whatever punishment she’d planned.
“No, little thief,” she said, guessing my thoughts. “You won’t flee. You’ve still things to tell me.”
The ground stirred beneath me, shifted, rumbled. Two long brown snakes slithered from the ground, grabbing my ankles. I tried to jerk away, but couldn’t free myself.
The creatures clamped around my feet so firmly I lost my balance and fell forward. I hit the ground, palms stinging. The snakes slithered up my legs, holding me. No, they weren’t snakes—they were roots. Thick, winding roots.
I cried out and pulled at them, kicked. One broke, then the other ripped off. By the time I freed my feet, a dozen more roots emerged from the ground, pushing through the dirt like creaking fingers. Several crept over my thighs. Others took hold of my arms. “Don’t do this!” I called to the queen. “Your trees are growing. Let me go!”
She didn’t respond, just watched the plants twining and twisting around me. They left muddy trails along my dress and skin, dark slashes that looked like dried blood. The roots pinned me on my back, then limb by limb extinguished my thrashing.
Last of all, a thick root slid across my throat. I was trapped, sewn to the earth. Even before the roots stopped moving, sprouts poked up from the ground around me. Green tendrils stalked upward. They thickened as they grew, turning into a tangle of branches.
The queen smiled in satisfaction. I caught one last look of her pale skin and dark flowing hair, then leaves and branches blocked her from my vision. My gaze met only leafy darkness.
The queen’s voice drifted downward. “I’ll come back when I’ve harvested the fruit. We shall have a long talk then.”
“Mercy is part of love,” I called. “Show some. For your trees’ sake, if not for—” Before I finished, a root slid across my mouth, cutting off my words.
If the queen heard me, she made no response. I imagined she’d left, gone to check on her fruit and her son. I struggled against the roots, straining against their grip. They didn’t budge. I couldn’t even shake the leaves on the branches. If the plant tightened its grip on my neck a bit more, it would cut off my air altogether.
The plant won’t kill me, I told myself. The queen wanted to talk to me. She wanted me alive. I’m not sure she successfully conveyed this to the plant, however. Maybe it didn’t have a clear understanding of the nature and purpose of the human throat in the whole breathing process.
The branches around me shifted and settled, waiting for the queen’s return. I shifted my head to make it easier to breathe and tried to calm down. I needed to calmly assess my situation. I was smarter than a plant. Perhaps I could think of a way to free myself.
My assets: a human brain.
My disadvantages: I had no tools, and I couldn’t move or speak.
Not a lot to work with, any way you looked at it.
The bush had small, heart-shaped leaves—the same kind of plant that grew everywhere in the forest. I had the horrifying fear the queen would forget where I was. I also feared she wouldn’t.
Would it be better to die here, forgotten and starving, or to die in whatever creative and no doubt painful way the queen used?
Out in the forest an owl hooted. Branches rustled in the distance. Perhaps from the wind. Another noise. Someone called my name. No, I was imagining that. It was just the wind.
The call came again, low and insistent. “Sadie!”
Donovan. It was his voice. He’d come back. Part of me surged with anger. He was supposed to be in the twenty-first century—out of danger. What was he doing here? Why
hadn’t Chrissy done what I asked? My sacrifice was for nothing.
The other part of me wanted to cry with relief. He’d come to help me. I called his name. It choked out of my mouth, no louder than a hoarse whisper.
“Sadie!” he called again, closer now. He was walking nearby. Perhaps on the path. Would he notice a new bush where nothing had grown before? Probably not. What was one more bush in this forest?
“Donovan!” I could still only manage a rustle of sound.
“Sadie!” The sound came from farther away. He’d passed by me, hadn’t heard me.
Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t do anything to get his attention. “Donovan!” I called, knowing the word would be swallowed in the breezes that rippled through the trees
“Sadie!” He was walking away.
Panic and anger mixed inside of me. It wasn’t fair. “I’m here,” I whispered.
“Sadie!” He stopped, listened, but made no sign he’d heard me. “Sadie,” he said sorrowfully. He was losing hope.
“Find me,” I murmured, and then realized how he could. I turned my head, tilting it in Donovan’s direction.
“I hate singing,” I choked out, and felt the prick of my nose growing. “I hate chocolate, hot showers, and indoor plumbing. I love homework, chores, and being trapped by freaky, magical plants.” Each lie brought a sharper pain to my nose, partially because it grew, partially because it scraped against the plant. As my nose knocked into the branches, they shivered, creaked. Made some noise.
“Sadie?” he called, and there was a question to it. He’d heard something.
“I love the mean girls at school, and I care about their opinions. That’s what friends are: people who want to tear you down and see you fail.”
My nose kept growing. It pushed twigs and leaves out of the way.
“Sadie?” Donovan called, worried. “Where are you?”
“If I get back to my real life, I’m going to obsess about the viral video of myself. Why care just about the mean girls in high school, when I can care about mean people across the nation? Strangers who see a bad moment in my life are in a perfect position to judge me. They’ve never done something stupid. They’ve never made fools of themselves. In fact, everyone’s life out there is perfect except for mine.”
My Fairly Dangerous Godmother Page 31
