by Molly Ringle
Sal poured herself more tea. “Alone is better than an army. But two is better than alone.”
Merrick put on his widest and, he hoped, most appealing eyes. “Would you come?”
“Dear, I don’t move fast enough. Takes me half a minute to cross the kitchen. I’d take ages to clamber across the fae realm. Which translates to even more ages out here, usually.”
“Too bad you aren’t a shape-shifting type.”
“Yeah, I think next life I might choose to be a water faery. Those alven in my garden seem to have a good time. Plus they’re quick.”
Being counted as fae wasn’t just a social distinction or the inability to tolerate iron. It made the difference at the end of your life between regenerating yourself from the elements versus disappearing down the mysterious path human souls took. Merrick, counted as human, would encounter that mystery someday.
He dragged his mind back to the quest. “But if you did come … ”
“I couldn’t.” She sipped her tea, her face wreathed with sympathetic creases. “I can’t take on a human quest. I couldn’t cross loyalty lines like that. I can help set you up, that’s all.”
Merrick looked away. Despite living with it every day, the implacability and arbitrariness of fae rules still discouraged him. Maybe they were right to count him as human, because he didn’t see why anyone of any species should be unable to choose to help their friends.
He slapped both hands on the table, making Sal look up again.
“I want to help,” he said. “And you know what else I’ve always wanted to do? Go into the fae realm. So let’s go through the plan. Explain it to me in detail. Then let’s talk about what I need and when I can leave.”
She sighed. But she turned the journal’s pages back to the first map. “If I were going to do it, I’d start here.”
CHAPTER 23
A KNOCK UPON LARKIN’S DOOR AWOKE HIM AT six-thirty in the morning. A servant brought in a tray of breakfast, and a Parliament member breezed in and delivered the news while Larkin sat in a dressing robe at his room’s table and ate.
Since Ula Kana had flown back into the fae realm after yesterday’s palace attack, the bulk of the defensive forces had been placed at the verge. A few skirmishes had taken place overnight with what seemed to be her allies trying to fly out and target human towns or homes again, but they had been thwarted and driven back into the fae realm after causing property damage but no reported fatalities. However, it was surely only a matter of time before some slipped through the lines and perpetrated worse violence. The hunt for a magical means to stop her remained everyone’s best hope, and Prince Larkin, as a central party in her awakening, remained one of their best clues to finding such a thing.
Larkin set down his half-full cup of coffee. Merrick’s tasted better. Imagine that: brewing better coffee than the palace kitchens. “Very well, I continue to be at your service.”
The queen kept him near for all her consultations throughout the morning. Then they got word that Miryoku, a small city on the western peninsula, had been beset by plants: wild roses and honeysuckle were sprouting and spreading, covering entire houses in the space of two hours. Trees, too, were growing thick and tall, their roots stretching the earth and cracking the foundations of buildings, toppling walls. People had been forced to flee. Witches were flocking there to treat the injured, though their attempts at slowing the proliferating plants had not succeeded. The place was rapidly becoming a forest.
Larkin was brought along to hear representatives from the agencies who formulated disaster plans. They served lunch without stopping discussions and dragged him straight into more meetings.
“There’ll be a referendum called,” a minister muttered to the Witch Laureate as the group marched down a hallway. “To remove me, you, every single one of us, if we don’t figure something out soon.”
In late afternoon, by which point Larkin’s ears were ringing from exhaustion, they were joined at last by six fae ambassadors freshly returned from the fae realm.
“We have spoken to various leaders of the territories,” said a wood sprite with yellow berries growing in his green beard. “The only consensus is that in exchange for helping capture Ula Kana the way the fae allies did last time, something valuable must be done in return. Ideally the reverting of a significant amount of land to the fae.”
A murmur rippled down the table. To Larkin this suggestion was familiar, but to these people it would be a shock, as the location of the verge had apparently not changed since 1799.
“Which lands?” a minister asked. “They’re already taking Miryoku. Is that enough?”
“Such things were proposed in my time,” Larkin said. “It was always the option I encouraged. But Rosamund and others felt too attached to the land they had recently won, though they had acquired it through deals viewed as invalid by the fae. There were human captives taken in exchange, whom she freed, yet she kept the land. Thus the dispute.”
One of the fae ambassadors, a female gnome, stroked her beard and nodded at him in calm agreement.
“We can’t go that route,” Riquelme protested. “In your time, hundreds of people lived on those lands, on thousands of lira worth of property. Nowadays it’s thousands of people and millions of lira. Where do we move those people? How do we pay for it? No way, can’t be done.”
“The other agreed-upon option,” the wood sprite went on, “was for everything to return to the way it was a few days ago. With a royal sleeper, such as His Highness, to balance the enforced sleep of Ula Kana.”
All eyes swiveled to Larkin. Larkin lifted his chin in defiance.
“Your Highness,” said Janssen, the Witch Laureate, “we in the Researchers Guild have discussed this with Her Majesty and the prime minister, and we have the greatest of favors to ask you.”
Larkin’s heart began knocking hard.
“Keeping in mind that we can and would revive you after a short time, hopefully just a few days, would you be amenable to being put back under the sleeping spell? Just for a short time.” She repeated the last hastily, in a manner she likely considered reassuring.
“Decidedly not. I’m sorry, but no, never again.”
“Only with your consent this time,” the queen put in. “We’re shocked that it ever wasn’t, but we do hope that since we’re in the gravest of need … ” She waved a hand beseechingly. Jewels twinkled on her fingers.
While Larkin sat speechless with horror, Prime Minister Riquelme spoke up. “The murdered surveyors, the storms at sea, the tower destroyed, now Miryoku being pulled to pieces—we’ve had more fae attacks in two days than we’ve had in ten years. We’ve got to do something, now.”
“Or risk the people not voting for you again,” Larkin said, and immediately heard his mother’s sigh in his mind. Larkin dear, think such things; do not say them.
No one snapped at him, however. He saw only some pursed lips and averted gazes.
“I promise, friend,” Janssen said, “we wouldn’t keep you under for long. Only long enough to see if it activated any magic that might help us capture her. Your spell was connected to hers, after all.”
“I was there when it was enacted, and I can tell you it would do no good. It required the summoning of Ula Kana, which itself is not something to be done lightly; then the capturing of her, which took all possible forces and cost several lives; and finally the linking of the two sleeping spells, with the promise that they never be broken on either side.”
“But if we started by putting you under the spell,” Janssen said, “it would be a show of good faith. The fae might be willing to cooperate, and might allow gentler terms, such as letting us awaken you soon after.”
“Why should they? This good ambassador has just indicated that the fae wish for the same terms as before.” He waved his fingers toward the wood sprite. “In which case we would be exactly back where we started: with no one able to awaken me without awakening Ula Kana.”
Nobody looked sobered by this prospect.
They examined their notes or watched Janssen.
They already knew. And didn’t care.
He longed to shove the table into their chests and bolt from the palace. But he sat as if already paralyzed.
“We wouldn’t let the situation continue this time,” Janssen said. “We’d keep seeking to alter the agreement, to free you but not her. Or to free her but imprison her another way—perhaps as Rosamund was trying to accomplish.”
They knew she had intended to find a way, for he had told them that much; but they did not know he had seen the very journal in which she had written her notes. He would not have handed them that journal for any amount of treasure, and he thanked the wise Lady that he had not told them any details of Rosamund’s plan.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but I’ve been promised this before by a court sorcerer and was failed atrociously. I wish to help the island, but must stand by my answer: not by that road, never again. You must find some other compromise, or else some other volunteer to put into the sleep.”
“We understand.” The queen laid her hand on the table in front of Janssen. “We will of course honor your wishes and continue searching for options.”
Larkin nodded in halfhearted thanks, and the others began discussing ideas involving magic or military force. He barely followed. He stared at the tabletop, alarm thumping with each of his heartbeats like the drums of an invading army.
Evening fell. In Sal’s back garden, solar lights came on in the stone lanterns, and tiny visiting sprites glowed like fireflies in the trees. It was tranquil, and it seemed surreal that outside the garden walls was a city braced for attack.
Merrick and Sal had taken a dinner break. He had barely slept last night. They had stayed up late, poring over Rosamund’s notes and artifacts, examining maps, and going out to buy or obtain additional supplies. They had chosen extra gifts for the fae, and Sal was tracking down rare charms to help him stay alive in the fae realm.
He hadn’t told his family yet. A sizable part of him expected he wouldn’t actually go; the government would announce that everything was fine after all; volunteer fae had caught Ula Kana and locked her up in a lava cave somewhere; everyone could relax and go about their business.
But the news continued to report only trouble. Miryoku was being eaten by plants. Vigilante witches were staking out the verge and picking fights with fae. Prime Minister Riquelme was giving ever more tone-deaf and divisive statements.
“This is a difficult situation,” he said in a press conference. “The fae have never had the same values as us, have never really understood us. It’s scary, especially with someone like Ula Kana who can sway their minds, brainwash them into being our enemies. I was elected because Eidolonians wanted to bring this country into the twenty-first century, with the comforts that humans everywhere should expect. Instead we still have problems like this. It’s too much. It’s time this kind of behavior from the fae ends, whatever that takes, and believe me, my cabinet is ready to take action.”
Snarling swear words, Merrick had switched off the broadcast.
It didn’t help to know he himself had caused this. Well—perhaps it was as Larkin had said: in truth Ula Kana had started this, or Rosamund had, or any of the greedy folk among both fae and humans, from the present all the way back to the first ship ashore. Merrick had only exacerbated the situation. But having well and truly knocked that domino over, he had to try to stop the chain of collapse, using the only remotely good solution anyone had proposed.
He sat across from Sal at her patio table, with food set out between them. Soothed by the cool tanginess of the cucumber salad he was crunching, he dared open the news again, this time selecting the headline Palace quiet as public demands Prince Larkin.
The crowds outside the locked palace gates hadn’t given up. Citizens wielded signs:
LARKIN LIVES
Let us see him!
We love you, Larkin!
“They still haven’t let him make a real appearance,” Merrick said. “Just one new video, and no speech.”
“I suppose they’re keeping him safe.”
“Or keeping him prisoner. And why haven’t the Researchers proposed a plan? They’re supposedly so brilliant, with so many resources.”
“Maybe there would’ve been more attacks by now if they hadn’t put up defenses, driven back attempts. But … I don’t know.”
From someone who had always been so steady, Sal’s unhappy tone frightened him. She hadn’t even tried to talk him out of the quest, not since he declared his intention last night. But then, she was fae, and she likely regarded his decision as a done deal, nothing worth arguing over.
“We have everything, then?” he said.
“I think so. Can’t you think of anyone to take with you?”
“Cassidy needs to stay with Elemi. Toshiko, my best friend from school, is pregnant. Feng is a ‘hell no.’ Everyone else I can think of … they wouldn’t be crazy enough to do it.”
“Well,” Sal said after a moment. “I’ll take you to the verge at dawn. Wouldn’t want to set out at night.”
Merrick agreed in a murmur.
In twenty-four hours, he would be in the fae realm. Quite possibly dead, or enchanted out of his mind.
He set down the halved apricot he had been about to eat. “Let’s keep watching and see if the news has anything. Maybe something’ll change.”
Unfortunately it did. They saw it on Sal’s TV around eight-thirty. At nightfall, Ula Kana and ten other fae swarmed across the verge at a rural stretch along the west coast and smashed the Amizade Bridge, which carried the Great Eidolonian Highway across a ravine. They had begun with a sudden, thick fog that obscured all sight on the road, then took out the trestle in a flood of lava.
The motorists on the bridge, and on the road approaching it, didn’t have a chance. Five vehicles plummeted into the ravine. All of them burst into flames when hitting the lava. The death toll was yet unknown, but those five drivers could not have survived.
One resident, with a house overlooking the bridge, had filmed it on her phone. The news ran the footage: Ula Kana, a streak of white and orange, and her assemblage of glowing allies, flew in at uncanny speed, dense fog curling around them and smudging the lights of the bridge. Then came the river of lava, bright red. The bridge twisted and collapsed, its lights sputtering out into darkness, while the phone owner exclaimed in horror. The footage jumped as she rushed forward. Then one more brilliant streak in the foggy dark: Ula Kana and her army flying back to the fae realm.
Merrick stood immobilized in horror, his eyes filling with tears.
The Great Eidolonian Highway was the island’s main loop around the shoreline—he had driven a different section of it with Larkin on their way to Dasdemir. In some places, such as the Amizade Bridge, it was the only available road. The loop was now broken, the road severed on the west coast between the north peninsula and the southern lands. Ula Kana was showing them she could and would take out their civilization, bit by bit, and would gladly kill anyone who happened to be in the way.
“Lord and Lady.” Sal’s words were a whisper. She turned to Merrick. “We don’t all want this. We fae. You must remember.”
“I—I know that.” Confused, Merrick wiped his eyes. But of course, these events scared her for a different reason: some humans would start turning against all fae, maybe even all magic.
“This is what Larkin lived with.” Merrick dropped to sit on the sofa beside her. “Ula Kana killing people. People going crazy and retaliating. Everything escalating into insanity.”
“It’s exactly what he lived with. I’m starting to worry people didn’t learn from what happened then.”
CHAPTER 24
THE CONFERENCE ROOM OF THE MOMENT, one of the ground-floor chambers of the palace, was milling with officials, everyone upset at the news of the bridge destruction. Larkin, as distraught as the rest, stared at one of the screens—“televisions,” apparently, not computers, although they looked the same t
o him.
Then the picture changed, and began showing a scene taking place this very moment outside the palace.
The citizens were clamoring to see him. He caught his breath.
Their placards and their loyalty moved him tremendously, and for a moment he smiled. Then his pleasure evaporated, tailed at once by rage.
The people loved and wanted him, and no one had bothered to tell him.
Without consulting anyone, he left the room, intending to exit the palace and go straight to the gates to thank and reassure his supporters. But he got barely twenty feet into the corridor before a half-dozen guards stopped him, telling him that they were under the queen’s orders to keep everyone in tonight. Especially His Highness.
Larkin stormed back into the room and went to the queen, interrupting her discussion with the prime minister. “Why will you not allow me to speak to the people?”
“My dear,” the queen said, “of course you’ll give them a speech. But none of us are going out tonight, except perhaps Akio, because he has to.” She nodded toward the prime minister.
“It would uplift them,” Larkin insisted. “They’re asking for me. They need glad news tonight.”
“They’ve seen you in the videos, and they’ll see you again. But can’t it wait till tomorrow?” She smiled gently, the way his grandmother used to do even when his parents had lost all patience with him. “That way you’ll have time to prepare a better speech.”
Larkin allowed this concession, grudgingly, and retreated.
He was at once hooked by the elbow by a Researcher, who told him it was time to attend the emergency meeting regarding the bridge disaster. Larkin could not see what helpful perspective he might bring, but he dutifully followed.
After that meeting, which lasted two hours, Janssen stopped him in the corridor. “Your Highness, I’ve received word from the fae we sent to Arlanuk’s realm. Time was with us, thankfully, and they returned swiftly.”
He cursed in his head, but gave her a courteous nod, awaiting the news he could already guess.
