by Leah Cutter
She might be queen, but he was more than ready to fight for the rule.
Adele looked around the room with obvious distaste.
Cornelius hid his smile. Anything to give him an advantage.
“It is good to see you,” Cornelius told Adele, holding out his hands to her, to clasp forearms as the warriors sometimes did.
She was a worthy opponent, after all.
“It is good to see you, as well,” Adele admitted, clasping arms with Cornelius then easily following him to one of the backless benches that lined the walls. The bright red and gold stripes set it off nicely against the walls, a bright splash of color.
“Why have you come back?” Cornelius asked.
Adele arched an eyebrow at him. “What, no smooth words of greeting? No inquiry as to how I am?”
“I figured that as a warrior, you’d appreciate the direct approach,” Cornelius replied. “Or have you given up your fighting days?”
Adele gave him a wide grin, showing her razor sharp teeth. “I still fight. Even now I wear the blood of my victims.”
Cornelius nodded. It was good to know that Adele’s heart still beat with the same fierceness. “Why does this King Ramit declare you and your troop their prisoners?”
“We flew into their territory unexpectedly,” Adele admitted. “It was a trap. They’re dying. They need new blood.” She paused, then added, “Garung is Ramit’s brother.”
That made things more difficult, if it was a feud between brothers.
“He expects us to turn you over to him,” Cornelius told Adele.
She laughed, then quieted when she realized he wasn’t laughing with her. “You wouldn’t!”
Cornelius shook his head. “I don’t want to give anything to this upstart king.”
“Then don’t,” Adele counseled.
“I also don’t want to start a war with them,” Cornelius pointed out. Though he was certain that Bascom and Thriza could wipe the forest floor with them.
“They’re strong,” Adele told him. “They’ve been living outside for years now.”
“What else can you tell me about King Ramit and his warriors?” Cornelius asked.
Adele’s eyes whirled faster. “They have—”
Cornelius.
“Shh,” Cornelius said, interrupting Adele. What was that?
His name came again, whispered on a magical wind.
The Tinker was calling to him. Asking for his help.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Cornelius said, standing suddenly. “I must go. We will speak together later, you and I. Rest.”
“What?” Adele screeched.
Cornelius flew through the door, ignoring the former queen. Thirza waited outside.
“Take Adele back to the rest of the troop,” he instructed. “Keep them contained.”
“And if they try to escape?” Thirza asked demurely.
Cornelius paused, blinking. He recognized what the warrior was actually asking: Should the warriors fake an escape of the troop? Should they actually kill them all?
“Let them,” Cornelius said. “King Ramit can take care of them.”
Then it was no longer his problem. He had larger, more pressing opportunities to take care of.
Like escorting the Tinker back into the kingdom, to repair all the clockwork of the warriors.
Chapter Nine
Dale sat on the edge of the couch while Mom paced back and forth across the living room floor. He’d changed into jeans, abandoning his usual shorts, though keeping his short-sleeved blue stripped polo shirt. He also kept his shoes on, though he knew Mom didn’t like it when he wore shoes in the house. He needed to be able to run at a moment’s notice.
Mom didn’t like that either, but she understood.
The winds from the ocean had picked up. The old house held them out, but just barely. It felt to Dale as if everything was trying to get at them—the night, the cold, the winds, the monster.
Monsters weren’t supposed to be real. Then again, neither was magic.
The knock on the front door echoed weirdly through the house, as if it was already empty of all life.
And maybe it was. Maybe all the life and magic had been stolen when the monster had ensnared Nora.
Maybe he shouldn’t have fought so hard to stay here in Port City when they’d discovered the fairies could call him once a year.
“It’ll be okay,” Dale assured Mom as he got up. He wiped his palms off on his jeans, walked around the couch, then went to the door and opened it.
Cornelius stood on the other side. He wasn’t wearing his suit coat or his hat, just his usual white shirt and broadly striped black-and-gray vest and pants. Even his hair seemed out of place, no longer slicked back, but windblown.
Had Cornelius been sleeping when Dale had called? He’d never seen the fairy so disheveled—hadn’t thought it was possible.
“You called me?” Cornelius asked. His golden eyes whirled faster than Dale had ever seen them move.
“Nora’s been taken,” Dale said. He knew he should invite the fairy to cross the threshold, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to accidentally weaken Nora’s protections.
Cornelius rocked back on his heels. “By what?”
“A monster,” Dale said. “Brett. Her boyfriend. He isn’t human. He gave her a ring that—changed her. Made her will not her own,” Dale guessed.
“It must be very, very strong magic to ensnare the Maker that way,” Cornelius mused.
Dale nodded. He’d known his sister was strong. It was good to hear the fairy confirm it.
“You must save her,” Dale told the fairy firmly. That was the only thing he wanted.
“Why?” Cornelius asked, a smile playing around his lips.
Bastard knew Dale was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Because if you do, I’ll come with you to fix the warriors in your kingdom.” At least Dale had something the fairies wanted.
“Not good enough, I’m afraid,” Cornelius said, shaking his head.
“One day a year for three years,” Dale added.
“No. You will come when we call you,” Cornelius said eagerly.
Before Dale could agree, Mom spoke up from over his shoulder. “No, he won’t,” she said firmly.
Dale blinked, then glanced over at his mom. The only time he’d ever seen her look this mad—and this determined—was when she’d faced down Dad in the hospital five years previous.
“He will go to your kingdom one day a year for four years. While he finishes college here. Then he is free to leave and pursue his life wherever he chooses,” Mom declared.
Go to college here? These were the worst circumstances in the world for Dale to be glad, making different plans. But he was still grateful. Maybe his mom knew just how much he’d wanted to stay.
“Ten,” Cornelius automatically shot back.
“Five,” Dale countered.
“And you will be grateful that I’m allowing him to do even that,” Mom snarled. “This is my baby that you are endangering.”
“And your other baby?” Cornelius challenged.
Dale snorted. “Nora’s in the shit, yes,” he said honestly. “And yes, we need your help. But even without it, she might make it on her own, you know.”
Cornelius nodded, thinking. “Five. Starting this year,” he said.
Dale’s knees suddenly felt weak, but he didn’t buckle. “You find her and bring her home, still alive, her soul no longer ensnared or entangled. Then we’ll set a time for me to work with your warriors.”
“Done,” Cornelius said, flashing a wild grin. Then he took off, his wide wings catching the wind and flying away quick as a thought.
“Will he do what he said he’d do?” Mom asked Dale as he stood there, staring out into the night.
“He has to,” Dale said. Cornelius would try his damnedest to get Nora back, not because he cared about Nora, but because he wanted Dale that badly.
And Dale would just have to figure out how not to get ensn
ared by the fairies on his own.
* * *
Cornelius stared in dismay at the human house. It had been easy to track the Maker, a simple enough spell. She hadn’t tried hiding her path or her presence.
On the outside, the house seemed ordinary enough, one of the typical old ramblers built when the human population had swelled here on the coast—in human dates, around 1950. It was one story, made from wood, painted a warm brown, with many windows that looked out both on the street and the wide, immaculately trimmed backyard.
However, every window, every joist, possibly every beam, was reinforced with magnets and magic. Cornelius couldn’t even fly close enough to the house to toss in a trinket that might put a pinhole in the house’s defenses. Even if he flew high above the property and dropped a stone straight down, it would probably still be bounced away.
Whoever lived here had well protected his property. And without a doubt, Nora was inside. Enslaved and enspelled.
Cornelius shot up high when the front door suddenly opened. The creature who stepped out glowed with age and strength, though its skin was as black as burnt leather. It had golden hawk-eyes and long silver hair, and the air of certain death about it.
That was the Maker’s current boyfriend?
Cornelius had never seen one of the old ones before, though like the rest of the fairies, he’d been aware of their presence. He’d even been under the assumption that the one who lived on the Oregon coast had tolerated the fairies when they’d come, particularly after they’d attacked and driven off the dwarves who had been in the area.
But the fairies had no treaties with this creature, had never had formal talks. Cornelius didn’t even know its true name.
Not like Cornelius would be able to do anything about this creature. It was far, far stronger than he was.
Could he go back and lie to Dale? Say that he rescued Nora, and that she was waiting for him in the kingdom? He might be able to fool the Tinker, but the mother was no longer ensnared. He’d never be able to convince both of them.
No. Cornelius had to get Nora out of the creature’s den, free her, at least for a while.
Which meant he had to go and get Adele. The queen knew Nora’s true name. No matter how enslaved she was, she would still know her name, would still come to someone calling it.
All Cornelius had promised was to free Nora the one time, and get her back to Dale.
It wouldn’t be his fault if either Adele or the creature ensnared her again immediately.
* * *
Brett flowed freely through the night. He couldn’t keep Nora at his place for too long—Port City was too small a town. There would be questions. Perhaps even police, particularly if the Maker’s mother was involved. No, he had to move her to a proper nest.
She had so sweetly accommodated him that night. They’d been lovers for some time, but tonight, she’d been much more his. The mating wasn’t complete however, and wouldn’t be for another night.
Brett flowed out of town, up the coast, past the damned dwarfish tunnels (he never should have allowed them into his territory in the first place. Encouraging the fairies to drive them out hadn’t helped either.) There were more tunnels up the coast, hidden by illusion stronger than fairies or Makers could create.
The cliffs were limestone, a pretty yellow and white during the day. They’d had been formed from what was now the tiniest river. Brett had dipped his toes in the water when he’d been a child, when it still flowed closer to the top.
Brett couldn’t fly like the fairies. He didn’t need to. He could dive and flow across the stone, caress it like the wind as he ran. The earth would never betray him, who came from Her, who still remembered and worshipped Her.
Down the cliff face Brett flowed, into a crevice guarded with large boulders on either side of the opening. Birds hadn’t dared to build nests on the ledge; even after millennia the stones still carried the scent of his kind.
The cave was dark and chill, holding in the smell of blood and birth. This was where Brett’s mother had whelped him, before she’d thrown herself off the cliff. It didn’t take long to bring in hides to cover the stones, straw for the birthing bed.
Farther back in the cave, Brett prepared the space where he planned on stashing the carcasses of two cows. He hoped that would be enough to feed his hungry brood.
Finally, everything was prepared. He knew it wouldn’t be the hideaway in the country that Nora, or any human, would dream about. The rocks were barely hidden, there was no electricity, no running water, no internet or even cell phone coverage.
But it was far enough away from everything, even the hiking trails, that no one would be able to hear Nora’s or the babies’ screams.
He did try to make it nice, though, so that she wouldn’t follow in his mother’s footsteps, but might survive the birth as well as the aftermath.
Not every human could withstand the trauma of giving birth to, as the teacher had named him, monsters.
* * *
Garung waited until Adele came back before he gathered the students together—Avrit, Sree, and Titir. The food had helped sooth his nerves, and resting finally, feeling safe, had done a lot for his courage.
Yes, the barracks were plain. He could see the other students turning up their noses at the simple furniture, the basic beige walls.
However, none of this furniture would break if a fairy pushed it. It was all solid. Nothing wobbled. He doubted the other students realized the amount of magic that was invested in the joists, special magic that ensured the life of each piece, far beyond its maker’s lifetime.
“So what’s the plan?” Pravir asked, as soon as they’d gathered together at the far end of the barracks, away from the warriors. The other students had gratefully spread out their cloaks, curling up and sleeping soundly.
Garung would have liked to rest as well. But they had to talk, instead. He turned to Adele.
“Ramit has declared us escaped prisoners,” Adele told the group. She seemed subdued.
It hadn’t surprised Garung that the leader, this Cornelius, had pulled Adele aside, choosing to talk with her first. He knew her, had known her as the queen.
It also wasn’t surprising that Cornelius hadn’t been as welcoming as Adele had assumed he would be.
“What will Cornelius do?” Pravir asked.
Adele shrugged. “The old Cornelius would have sweet-talked Ramit into going away. This new version…I don’t know.” Adele paused, thinking. “He might actually send his own warriors out after Ramit. He seemed unhappy being given orders by this upstart king.”
“He called him that?” Garung asked, pleased. Because that was exactly what Ramit was. An upstart king.
“He did,” Adele said. She looked at the warriors gathered near the door. “We don’t have to escape from here. Not yet. But we should be prepared to flee. In case Cornelius does decide to deal with Ramit.”
“Would he do that?” Garung asked. This trip was turning into an even worse disaster than his last one. He should never have left the Redwood Fairy Kingdom, should never have persuaded the council to let him go with the children of the royals.
He’d already lost so many of his troop. He’d only ever be remembered as part of a greater tragedy.
Adele shrugged. “He might. He might now. He’s…changed.”
“Some good it did us bringing you along,” Pravir said.
Faster than Garung could stop Adele, she already had her hands around Arivit’s neck and was dragging him toward the ceiling. “Without me, you all would have died. Or already been captured by Ramit, thrown into slavery.”
“Let him go.” A very deep voice came from next to Garung. He turned to see a broadly muscled warrior standing there, covered in red warrior paint. He only had one eye—the other was a ruby.
It looked as though the ruby was infected—unnatural red veins stood out from under the warrior’s skin.
Adele dropped Pravir suddenly. Luckily the boy was quick enough to catch himself b
efore falling gracelessly on the table below.
“Adele,” the warrior said, bowing his head. “This way, please.”
Adele stared at the warrior for a moment, before turning back to Garung. “Make your own plans,” she told him before she flew off.
Garung knew he’d been abandoned. It was up to him, now, to see his troop either safely ensconced in the northern kingdom, or else figure out a way to escape both from here as well as from Ramit, who surely was waiting for them at the borders.
“We need to rely on our own wits, this time,” Garung instructed the others. He glanced over his shoulder at the warriors scattered around the room, then leaned forward and said softly, “I have a plan.”
* * *
Adele smiled smugly at Cornelius, glad that he’d come to his senses, and was finally admitting that he needed her help. It didn’t matter that it was such a trivial task—rescuing the Maker. It was the start of their greater interdependence, a word that she was certain would shock Cornelius if she said it out loud.
She had been paying attention to some of what Garung had taught, even if most of it didn’t make any sense.
At least they were meeting in the yard with the warriors, and not in one of those obnoxiously closed-in meeting rooms, next to the throne room. She was worried about Bascom: Fairies didn’t get sick, but he obviously was.
“You need to go and guard the Tinker,” Cornelius was instructing the warriors. “And the mother. The creature may or may not attack him. The Tinker has agreed to come to the kingdom, to work on the clockwork here.”
Cornelius turned to Adele. “We are going to go and rescue the Maker.”
Adele preened. It was just a matter of time before they were all following her again.
“We’re going with you,” Thirza, Bascom’s second in command insisted.
Cornelius agreed immediately. “I would be pleased to have your escort,” he said smoothly.
Adele felt like rolling her eyes. The same old smooth words that Cornelius always spouted. They didn’t need an escort. She could fight her way out of anything. Hadn’t she already proven that?
They didn’t leave by the normal staircase, instead, going out one of the hidden entrances further north. Adele was pleased at how well the second entrance was being maintained, how many guards were posted there. Of course, this entrance was closer to the entrance of Kostya’s cave.
