by Amy Wilson
Alberic braces himself against his father’s venom, and I want to intervene, I want to roar at the Earl, to run up and push him bodily away from his son, and I can see that Mallory feels the same – but we cannot. Jack and Boreas have their hands on our arms; their eyes hold a world of warning.
‘Why?’ I whisper desperately.
‘This is Alberic’s fight,’ Jack whispers back. ‘Don’t you think he has earned it, after all this time?’
‘I heard you,’ Alberic says, breathing hard. ‘You couldn’t contain yourself – you were so pleased at what you had achieved. It didn’t matter to you that you were destroying what Mother Earth had put in place; that you burdened Owl with the impossible job of her father. You were rid of him. You thought you’d have an easy ride, that autumn would blend with spring. Did you think of what that would do to the world? Or were you so besotted with her –’ he looks at the Queen of May, who watches serenely, apparently completely unfazed by his words – ‘that you forgot why you were here, what any of this is for? Would you really stand and call me a liar, when you know that I am not? Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I am . . . that I . . .’
His voice breaks off and suddenly I feel something building in the air. Something that stings and burns with some kind of frantic rage. Frowning, I look from the Earl to the Queen. And I see it there, in her eyes. Thwarted and malevolent, she has charged the air with her power: static that gathers thickly around her, just waiting to be let loose. I look to Jack and see that he can feel it too; he just hasn’t figured out where it’s coming from. I try to indicate the Queen with my eyes, but he’s not looking. He’s watching the Earl.
‘What say you, old friend?’ he asks him, his voice gentle, almost conciliatory. ‘Can you really deny it, before all of us gathered here? I have been at fault myself, if that is of comfort. I should have seen the truth straight away. Owl is my daughter. She bears my power and her humanity with a wisdom I have spent thousands of years chasing. Would you not say the same of your son?’
The Earl looks from Alberic to Jack, and then at me, as the crowd around us begins to stir once more, everyone wide-eyed and whispering. His body is taut with rage and the Queen’s eyes glow; he is her weapon, I realize. He is the spark.
‘ABOMINATIONS!’ he howls. The Queen lays a hand on his arm as if to placate him, but I see the jolt of her power as it connects with his, and, eyes burning, he strikes out at Alberic. My skin freezes as static rushes towards him and he doesn’t move. He doesn’t see the electricity coming his way. Or he doesn’t care. Fear slams through my body; my heartbeat is a siren in my blood and I don’t think, I just throw myself in front of him, raising my arm against the scalding wind and reaching desperately for my power as electricity leaps at me.
I brace myself for the hit, closing my eyes, every nerve in my body tingling with adrenalin – then there’s a whump of silence all around me. My hair stands on end but it doesn’t hurt. After a moment I realize I’m still breathing, still standing. I open my eyes, but I can’t see anything, can’t hear anything. A thick white mist blooms in the air before me. Particles of frost slowly drift to the ground. There’s no trace of the static electricity.
What happened? I blink, my mind reeling, and slowly the mist begins to clear. The Earl is stationary before me, his face frozen in a rictus of frustration. Literally frozen: his skin ice-blue, his hair plastered in frost, icicles dripping from his outstretched limbs. His eyes are fixed on me, unblinking.
‘Couldn’t have done that better myself!’ shouts Jack, capering beside me as Mallory looks on with worried eyes, Boreas silent beside her. The Queen of May moves further back, something like fear in her gaze as she stares from Jack to me.
‘What did you do?’ Alberic hisses in my ear, grabbing my arm tight. ‘Have you killed him?’
‘I don’t know,’ I manage, past a lump in my throat, staring at the immobilized Earl. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . Alberic, I swear!’ I turn to Jack, who marches up to the Earl and flicks him on the nose. There’s no reaction. It’s as though he’s a statue.
‘He’ll be fine,’ Jack sighs eventually. ‘You hit back, defended yourself with your power. He just needs a good thaw. You can’t kill him so easily as that, sadly. If it were possible, I’d have done it a long time ago . . .’
Though I know – I know from the way he intervened with Alberic – that he’d never do that.
‘Jack!’ thunders a multilayered voice behind us. ‘That’s quite enough.’ The figure of Mother Earth coalesces before us in a magical moment of pale, blurred wings and shifting robes, for an instant almost too bright to see. A new silence descends upon the whole court, every figure frozen in place as they turn to see her lined face, taut with rage. ‘This isn’t a game. You are hurting real people. Look at these children who have had to fight for their lives just because of some petty dispute!’ She marches up to the Earl and gives him a slap on the shoulder. Instantly the ice falls away from him and he awakens with a cough. ‘You!’ Mother Earth says. ‘What were you thinking, to aim your rage at your only son? What is this crusade against humanity? Were you put here to harm life, to endanger nature’s work? What say you?’
The Earl’s eyes are like caverns as he stares at Mother Earth. He splutters as he tries to find the words.
‘I sought to conserve our . . . our legacy,’ he manages after a long moment, bowing his head before Mother Earth.
‘Your legacy!’ She looks like she’d like to slap him again. ‘What has happened to you all?’ She looks around at her court: at the sprites, who have watched without saying a word; at the Lady of the Lake, who has sat mute throughout the fight; at the Queen of May, whose skin is flushed. ‘I am ashamed of you. Thousands of years of work it has taken, to achieve harmony. You were its guardians! Did you think you ruled this earth? No! You are servants to all who dwell here. It is your job to protect and to nurture. None of you has remembered what you fight for, what you are preserving. Even having created your own children, you fail to see the beauty in them, the frailty and the power they balance.’ She rounds on them one by one. ‘Jack! You are too proud, too wild. It is in your nature to be flighty, but you are not a power unbridled, you may not step without your bounds. And you!’ She turns to the Earl. ‘This fixation on “human stains” and your own sense of importance is absurd; it goes against everything I ever worked to achieve. And as for you . . .’ She turns to the Queen of May, her voice simmering.
‘Yes,’ says the Queen calmly, stepping forward. ‘What of me? What have you to say that you think I will abide by? You forget that you are the head of this court. Everything that we are, everything that we have become, is because of you. If we have evolved, that was because you allowed it!’
Mother Earth narrows her eyes and a ripple of tension rolls through the court, crowds huddling tight together, eyes all fixed on her. ‘Yes,’ she says eventually, the globe lights dimming, even the moon seeming to pale as her anger throbs in the air around us. ‘Yes, I have allowed it. I gave you freedom with your responsibility. I gave you choices, companionship. I sought to create harmony . . .’ Her voice dwindles as the entire court hangs on every word. ‘Truly, I thought you would see sense before it came to this. Clearly I should have held the reins tighter. Go now, Maeve. Go and rest until your season is upon us. I will think on this while you are incapacitated.’ She stretches her arm out in the Queen’s direction, fingers spread wide, and the Queen flinches, caught up and powerless, slowly losing form until all that remains is the hint of a spring breeze. ‘And you, Sorbus, your time is also past for this year. Begone!’ She makes the same motion, and the Earl flings his arms up as if to protect himself, but it is no defence. In an instant he is nothing but a swirl of brittle, autumn leaves that slowly drifts to the ground.
‘As for the rest of you,’ she says, her eyes luminous as she turns to take in the whole court, her voice ringing out. ‘This is not over. You have allowed these two to wield more power than I ever gave them. You will kn
ow peace for as long as winter lasts, but they will be back, and it is up to you to fight them. I will not intervene again, I cannot be here to mother you all of the time!’
‘We understand,’ says the Lady of the Lake, stepping regally on to the shore, silver water pouring off her as she comes towards Mother Earth. She bows deeply, and the rest of the court follow in one fluid motion, Jack and Boreas joining them, Alberic and I, and even Mallory, making our own clumsy efforts.
‘Well, I should think so,’ says Mother Earth with a shake of her head.
I am so exhausted that the world seems to slow with it, treacle-heavy, everything muted. I watch as Alberic is taken to one side by the Lady of the Lake, her eyes concerned at his pallor. He doesn’t look back at me as he argues with her, trying to fend off her concern in typical Alberic style. He probably blames me for getting his father ousted, or for nearly killing him.
I’ll never forget how still he was.
I’ll never get over what I nearly did.
Mallory is talking animatedly to the Green Man, and my father is being lectured by Mother Earth, who keeps gesturing to the bridge over the lake as if it’s a symbol of everything he shouldn’t be doing. He’s nodding and bowing and very nearly wringing his hands, and slowly the bridge begins to melt, falling away into the water, but there’s still a glint of pride in his eye and he doesn’t look in the slightest bit chastened. He is so different here, it’s almost as if he’s playing up to his reputation. I know now, from how he was in his own world, I know that he cares more than he lets on.
Thousands of sprites and fairies flit from place to place, their every movement full of excitement, tiny rainbows breaking out around them as the sun begins to rise. I look at Alberic once more, and for an instant I think I can see right through him, but when I blink and look again he’s just himself, just a boy with a bit of the unusual about him, still reluctantly being inspected by the Lady. He shrugs away from her as she fusses but I can see he likes it really, already his eyes are less haunted. It makes me think of Mum, which sends a little pang through me.
‘Owl,’ says Mallory, coming up to me, her face shining. ‘You did it!’
‘You did it,’ I say with a smile, as my knees turn rubbery. I lean into her. ‘I couldn’t find my voice. It was you who did it!’
‘Perhaps being a human stain counts for something,’ she says, smiling back. ‘But it was incredible, what you did to the Earl. Are you OK? Are you feeling solid?’
I hesitate for a moment, distracted by the complete craziness of such a question.
‘I think so,’ I say, looking down at myself. ‘Don’t I look solid?’
‘You do,’ she says. ‘You look absolutely Owl-like, as ever. It’ll be all right, Owl. They’re gone.’
‘For now,’ I say.
‘And your father is here, and he’s proud of you,’ she adds, brushing past the awkward moment. ‘I could tell he was, Owl, and so he can teach you, can’t he, how to use your power without being a wraith?’
‘I suppose so,’ I say. ‘I just . . . uh!’ I pull her down to sit with me. ‘It’s all so crazy. Tell me something normal. Did I miss anything the last couple of days?’
Mallory laughs at me, shaking her head. ‘Nothing to compete with all of this. I did talk to Dad last night, before everything else happened.’
‘And?’
‘It was OK,’ she says. ‘He’s going to take me out at the weekend so we can talk properly so that’s—’ Her phone buzzes, cutting her off. She takes it out of her pocket, looks at the screen and flushes bright red.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ she says, tucking the phone hurriedly back into her pocket.
‘Mallory!’
‘What?’
‘You can’t not tell me! I thought we told each other everything. I told you all my stuff!’ I gesture around us at the fay folk. ‘I’ve shared everything!’
‘Hah!’ She grins. ‘But you’re not allowed to laugh. Or say anything clever.’
‘OK,’ I promise, pretty sure there’s nothing clever in me right now, anyway.
‘It was Conor,’ she says, unable to hide a little smile. ‘He . . . um . . . he asked if we could go out some time—’
‘A-ha!’ I crow. ‘I knew it! What are you going to say?’
‘Don’t know,’ she says with a toss of her head, avoiding my eye. I stare at her. ‘Oh, fine!’ She sighs dramatically. ‘I’ll probably say yes. What about you?’
‘Me? I don’t think Conor’s interested in me.’
‘Ha – I meant about everything else. Alberic, for example.’
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen there. I suppose it depends if he can get past the fact that I nearly froze him to death,’ I say, my eyes going to him. There’s a little pull in my chest as I watch him, a little shiver that has nothing to do with frost. I hope he can forgive me; I can’t quite imagine being without him now. ‘Anyway,’ I rush on, ‘I have other things to focus on too . . .’
I look at Jack, who has finished being lectured and is staring openly at Mallory and me. He winks and comes towards us.
‘Little Owl,’ he says. ‘You did well out there. Will you come out to play this evening? You said you wanted to learn . . .’
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I say, scrambling up, and very grateful that Mallory is there to hang on to. ‘I’ve been busy, remember?’
‘Ah, yes. Filling in, risking your life for the art of it . . . Good girl, good girl.’ He pats me on the shoulder, his eyes sparkling. ‘Then tomorrow. Boreas!’ he yells, turning to the North Wind. ‘Time for a little sparring before full daylight is upon us?’
Boreas flicks a sidelong look at Mother Earth, who averts her eyes, pretending she hasn’t heard. Then he strides towards us, grinning, tossing the air around him as he comes. ‘Why, yes, Jokul,’ he says, blowing us all back in his enthusiasm. ‘I mean to say, within reason,’ he adds, clearing his throat as he looks at Mallory and me. ‘As ever . . .’
Mallory is enchanted by the excited sprites. They have come up to us, nervously at first, and then in their droves, while fairies watch on from their branches. My eyes are dry and sore. I cannot keep up with their fast-paced chatter, though Mallory seems to be in her element, her usually sober brown eyes alight with the magic of it all. I draw away from them, my head pounding, and find a patch of moss beneath the trees, sitting with my back up against one of the trunks as the burning white sun falls from the sky, fluttering its wings as it comes to land.
The owl.
‘It was you . . .’ I manage, as she shudders and breaks apart in front of me, only to appear as Mother Earth once more. ‘All along, you were there, with Mum, in my room . . .’
‘It was me.’ She nods. ‘Did you think you were alone in this? I have watched over you always; you are my namesake. You are destined for even greater things than this, if only you can control yourself . . .’
I flinch at the stern tone, knowing I deserve that, and more.
‘Jack has much to teach you,’ she says. ‘But for now it’s time for home. Your mother is worried, and you’ve been lying to her.’
Oh, no. I’m going to be in so much trouble. What will I tell her? How long will she ground me for this time?
‘But will I be a wraith?’ I ask, trying to delay reality a little longer. ‘Will Alberic? What I did to him . . . Will he be all right? What will happen to us all, when they return?’
‘Ah.’ She flicks a hand at me. ‘You take on too much. Not everything that has happened was down to you, and you have done your best, as has Alberic. He’ll be fine. And he’ll forgive you, you know. The harder thing will be to forgive yourself. If you’ll take advice from an old woman, do it. Life’s too short, even here, to hold on to regret. I’ve put Alberic under the protection of the Green Man and the Lady; they’ve been more parents than his own have ever been anyway. And as for being a wraith, you’ve both shown balance in what you did here today. You have compassion, and a rather human ability for lo
yalty and friendship. I’m not saying it will be easy, or safe – you must always work on your strength, both as elemental and human . . .’
I nod, looking across at Alberic. He catches my eye and though he’s still too pale, and though I may never quite forgive myself for everything I’ve done, he twists one corner of his mouth in a trademark Alberic smile and my heart lifts, because it says everything. It says there is hope, which is probably more than I deserve. I don’t know what it’ll be like tomorrow, whether he’ll even come back to school, but I know that somehow, somehow I can fix it. And it matters. He matters. Without him and Mallory, I’d have been lost, and so would Jack; perhaps even the whole court, in time.
‘What about Jack?’ I ask, when Alberic has been drawn into a clumsy hug by the Green Man. ‘Will he change, after what you said? Will he be . . .’ I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Will he be a father?
‘Jack will be at his work,’ she says, watching him charge off with Boreas with a shake of her head. They push and shove at each other, tripping and laughing and spinning little flurries of ice between them as they go. ‘He will guide you in your power. You must not expect too much of him; much of what you need to do comes from within. Control, balance: only you can master those for yourself. But he came back because of you, I am sure of that. Your existence has changed him, helped him to remember what I taught him so long ago about how precious this life is, that what he is doing is worthwhile. He had lost that faith. I expect he will try to be a father, though he’ll never be quite what you imagined.’
‘He’ll try?’
