by Tasha Black
The air here was thinner somehow, with a stale aftertaste. And the sky was a hazy, starless gray instead of velvet black.
She spun to find a blanket of artificial lights behind her instead of a moonlit palace.
A mortal city.
Panic clutched her heart and she looked down at her hand.
Ashe did not have a talisman for crossing the veil. And the dust was gone. It was a one-way ticket, she had known that before she set off. She was never going back to Faerie.
Still, she could not bring herself to head for the electric city.
Instead, she turned and slipped into the woods.
It was quiet here and more like home. Though the scraggly trees were a poor echo of the lush foliage of the fae realm, it was still beautiful, even in darkness. And the scent of pine needles was familiar and comforting.
She picked her way between the trees, enjoying the song of the nightbirds, which was louder here than at home.
The slope of the hillside did not trouble her much. The fae folk were light on their feet, and Ashe had spent her childhood exploring the woods of the Winter Court with her three daring brothers.
She felt a pang of guilt at leaving them behind.
But war was afoot in the fae realm. Her brothers would be tied up in battle for the foreseeable future. And when that was done, they would all be marrying off and having children of their own. They would be far too busy to miss their luckless sister.
“I’m free now,” she murmured to herself, thrilling at the words.
That was when she noticed the birdsong had stopped.
She froze against a tree trunk, willing her heart not to beat too loudly. A predator must be afoot, and she hoped it was not large enough to be interested in a meal her size.
There was crunching in the woods behind her - not an animal sound, but the footsteps of a man.
A bounty hunter.
She had known they might send someone after her, but she never expected it would happen so quickly.
Her feet were moving before she had time to think.
There was no way she would surrender herself back to the fae realm. She would be free, or die running.
The foliage around her thinned out considerably. She had just enough time to realize what that meant before she was tumbling down the steep granite cliffside.
She hit the dirt and undergrowth again, scrambling down into a softly lit clearing.
She landed hard on her hands and knees on a smooth rock surface.
No, it was a paved lot, and the light above came from another electric light.
She could hear the movement of her pursuer in the woods behind her. He had slowed to manage the steep terrain.
“Are you okay?” a very familiar voice asked from in front of her.
Ashe looked up into her own face.
She blinked, thinking maybe she had been shaken up by her fall.
But it was real. The woman had the same dark hair and eyes, the same tiny freckle on her cheek.
And she wore the same shocked expression.
Her exact double. In the mortal realm.
The truth hit Ashe like a punch in the gut.
But there was no time to take it in. A shivering of the trees on the hillside reminded her of why she was fleeing.
“He’s right behind me,” she whispered to her doppelgänger. “Run.”
Ashe took off for the light of the building whose parking lot she had fallen into. There would be witnesses there. It would be more difficult for her pursuer to snatch her.
The world blurred around her as she ran, her whole life unfolding and retelling itself in her head.
Ashe was not a fae princess.
That was why she had no magic. She wasn’t an anomaly. She wasn’t a dud.
She was a changeling.
And the true surviving princess of the Winter Court was right behind her, about to be swept back to Faerie by the man who had been pursuing Ashe.
The rightness of it all landed on her just as she pushed open the door to the little restaurant the other woman had been leaving.
A press of mortals surged against her.
“There’s a bear out there,” one man yelled. “Did you see it?”
She shook her head, afraid to speak for fear of giving herself away.
“Willow, are you okay?” a young man asked, running up to her. “Sit down. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“What happened to her, Ramón?” a female servant asked the man.
“I don’t know,” he replied on his way to the counter.
“There are leaves in her hair, she looks dazed,” the servant said insistently.
Ashe touched her hair and pulled away a stray leaf.
“Did she change into that outfit for the Renaissance Faire?” the woman whispered.
She looked down at her torn gown, which was clearly quite out of place in this realm. Even the women being served wore breeches and simple jerkins.
“Here, Willow,” the man called Ramón said kindly, handing her a glass of water.
She took it gratefully. If she was drinking, she wouldn’t have to talk. He clearly knew her other self. Perhaps she could get him to help without giving away her secret.
“You left your purse again,” he said with a warm smile, holding up a strange leather satchel died the same blue as the birds of the Summer Court.
“That’s kind of you” she said politely, taking it.
The leather was soft to the touch and shiny in places, as if her other self had carried this same bag for years. It was also mysteriously heavy.
It took everything Ashe had not to open it and search the contents for coin and keys, and anything else that might unlock the changeling’s existence.
“Willow,” the young man said again, placing a hand on her knee. “Do you want to talk about what happened? Was there actually a bear out there?”
She shook her head, trying not to show her horror. Commoners did not touch royalty. But she reminded herself that she was not royalty. And traditions would be different here.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly.
He observed her with concern in his dark eyes. “Would you like a ride home?”
“Yes,” she said, relieved and hopeful that the bag she held might contain keys to the gates of her changeling’s home.
He nodded to her and headed back toward the glass doors she’d entered from.
She followed in his wake, clutching the enormous purse.
He held the door open for her, impressing her with his chivalry. She had heard that mortals were wildly rude, but this one seemed civil enough.
Once outside, he glanced around the lot.
People were already wandering back into the diner or heading to their mechanical coaches.
The bounty hunter following her must have snatched her double instead, leaving Ashe to enjoy her newfound freedom.
She tried not to celebrate openly, but she felt light on her feet with joy.
Ramón walked up to a decidedly humble looking coach.
“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said with a strange smile.
She blinked at him. This was not a chariot. It was a battered looking hunk of metal standing on four round rubber feet.
“Kidding,” he said, arching one eyebrow. “You really are shaken, aren’t you.”
“I’m fine,” she said for the second time.
He shrugged, and she watched as he opened the door to the coach.
She pulled up on her door handle and felt the click as it unfastened.
She was a natural. This mortal thing was going to be a breeze.
The man did something to the wheel of the vehicle and it coughed to life.
She clung to the seat.
“Don’t forget your seatbelt,” he said, pulling something out of the wall near his head.
She followed suit and found a bit of waxed canvas with a metal piece on the end. She watched him pull his out and click it in and she managed to do the same
after only two tries.
Nailed it.
However, she was unprepared for the sudden velocity of their departure.
She gasped and grabbed her seat with both hands.
“You, okay?” the man asked.
She nodded, unwilling to say I’m fine for the third time in a row.
They drove on in silence and she tried to focus on the horizon, like her parents had taught her to do when she was seasick on a boat in the choppy half-frozen lake.
The people I thought were my parents…
She tried to remind herself to be grateful for the information she had literally bumped into tonight.
Knowing she was a changeling made her lack of magic understandable, natural… not my fault.
“Here you go,” the man said politely, pulling the coach up in front of a small building.
“Have a pleasant evening,” Ashe said.
“Uh, thanks,” he replied, looking a little bewildered.
She got out and heard him chuckling. “What?”
“Oh, I’m just glad that you remembered your purse this time,” he said with a twinkly smile.
She smiled back, though she had no idea how her counterpoint could regularly forget such a commodious rucksack.
The coach pulled away in another foggy explosion and she faced the building head-on.
The first floor appeared to be a grocery shop. A hand painted sign in the window read CLOSED.
She walked around to the side where a rickety outdoor staircase led up to a door with the number 2 emblazoned on it.
She looked around, but there was no one to witness her, so she crept up the staircase, which was made of painted metal, not wood - so less rickety than she had originally thought.
When she reached the top she shook the purse.
Something inside it jingled.
She stuck her hand inside gamely, feeling things that were soft, pointy, smooth, and at last the chattering metal teeth of a ring of keys.
It took a moment to locate the proper one, but it slid into the modern looking knob with a satisfying click and opened the door smoothly.
Ashe stepped into her new life.
2
Varik
Varik hid in the shadows at the edge of the woods, catching his breath and cursing himself silently for letting the girl slip into the crowd inside the diner.
Varik was a professional. He crossed the veil regularly, and was prepared for such distractions.
But the last thing he expected was to be shoved aside by a giant bear as soon as he set foot on the parking lot. And not just any bear - it had clearly been a fae creature.
He had no idea where it had come from, but he’d been ready for a serious fight over their shared quarry. He assumed it was there for the same prize he was seeking. And there was no way he would let his competitor win the bounty of Princess Ashe.
Varik was the most dangerous bounty hunter in the Seasonal Courts. The idea that some bear-fae had seen him in his natural form and kept coming was almost unthinkable.
Varik had readied a spell and weapon, and prepared himself to take out the burly bear by any means necessary.
But then it had disappeared as suddenly as it appeared.
And Varik was left with nothing but confusion, and the sinking feeling that there was more going on here than he understood.
But none of that mattered. He might have missed one shot at her, but the competition was gone, and his quarry was still in sight. The job was still on.
Ashe was well-ensconced in the diner now, a man knelt to touch her knee.
Varik was impressed when she didn’t flinch.
Ashe of the Winter Court had not been raised to be touched by commoners.
But she held herself in perfect control, the ugly fluorescent lights gleaming fetchingly in her dark hair, despite the few stray leaves collected there.
He felt an odd pang of something akin to jealousy, though he had no idea why he wouldn’t want anyone to touch his quarry. He had never even laid eyes on her before tonight.
Something tugged at his boot.
“Ronan,” he said firmly.
The wolf pup let go of his bootstrap, and looked up at him in puppyish reproach.
Varik smiled in spite of himself.
Ronan gave a little yap and grinned up at him, one ear up and the other still flopped down, giving the wolf pup an eternally inquisitive look.
He had been very frightened of the bear. But now he was bored again already. He had a short attention span.
“We have to be patient, little buddy,” Varik told him.
Ronan’s jaw snapped shut and he observed Varik like he was listening hard. And also like Varik might be about to produce a treat.
Varik looked past the pup, to the parking lot, where Ashe was getting in the car with the man from the diner.
“Let’s go,” he said, striding off.
He could hear the pup leaping after him, nails clicking on the asphalt.
The car was a pathetic wreck of a thing. But that would make their work easier. Varik only hoped it wasn’t going any great distance.
He slipped the compass from his pocket and held it up.
An icy weather vane with a tiny mermaid on top lifted from it and spun as if there were a harsh wind blowing.
The mermaid pointed in the direction the car was moving.
Varik walked after it, taking his time.
It did no good to draw attention to himself. He had learned the hard way that big guys who had wolf cub pets and were a little too good-looking to be human could get hung up in unpleasant conversations when they let themselves be noticed. It was best to move like mortals, with plodding slowness.
The pace was probably best for the pup as well. His legs were short and Varik would end up carrying him in his satchel if the walk went on too long.
But for now, the pup was happily scampering along beside him. As always, the cub’s happiness called to his own and Varik relaxed a little.
Ashe couldn’t be going far if someone else was driving her. They would find her soon and be back in Faerie in time for breakfast.
He tried not to think about his prize for this quarry.
“Never count your chickens before they hatch,” he advised Ronan.
Ronan glanced up at him with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth roguishly, as if to say that no one could stop him from counting chickens.
The mermaid on the compass swiveled to point him down a tiny suburban street.
“Thanks, babe,” he told her.
She winked at him dewily.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he warned her.
But she kept smiling and pointing.
Even the masthead on his enchanted compass wasn’t afraid of him tonight.
“Have I gone soft?” he asked the pup.
But Ronan was chasing a piece of trash that had blown off the street and paid him no mind.
“Put that down, Ronan,” he said firmly.
The pup scampered back, tail between his legs.
“It’s okay, bud,” he told it.
After a while, the mermaid swiveled again, and he found himself standing in front of a grocer’s shop with a CLOSED sign in the window.
Two windows with pretty flower boxes face the street from the second floor.
As he studied the windows, wondering if someone lived over the shop, a light flicked on, flooding them with yellow warmth.
“Gotcha,” he whispered, clicking the compass shut.
It was odd, Varik had always been a gifted tracker, able to pick up on the smallest trace of his prey. But somehow, he could sense this girl’s presence, even without the compass. As if a strange sort of gravity drew him nearer to her.
The pup whimpered.
“Okay, Ronan,” he said sympathetically. “You can have your dinner now. We need to wait a little while anyway.”
He slipped into the backyard of the little shop.
A stand of lumpy sycamores and l
eggy rhododendrons lined the back of the grassy area. It was a perfect hiding spot.
He patted his satchel where he kept a supply of jerky, and Ronan danced beside him, ready for his meal.
3
Ashe
Ashe observed the inside of the apartment in darkness for long minutes before daring to turn on the lights.
But it seemed that the changeling, whom everyone called Willow, lived alone, and it was safe for Ashe to make herself at home here.
She flicked the electric switch by the door and was rewarded with a wash of warm light. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the place was crowded but clean.
The walls were lined with unmatched bookshelves, stacked and stuffed with volumes. Some were leather bound and lovely, others were dog-eared paperbacks.
Several area rugs marked out the “rooms” of the open space. A traditional navy and red rug was in the living area and a soft white tufted thing was under the queen-sized bed by the two windows.
A tiny kitchenette stood in the near corner, and behind it a door led, she assumed, to the bathroom.
Bowls of fruit and potted plants covered every surface of the kitchen. More plants hung from the ceiling near the windows.
The whole layout was as cozy as it was efficient.
Her eyes caught on the closet and dresser on the far wall of the bedroom area. She moved toward them in relief. Her gown was torn and uncomfortable, and she certainly couldn’t fit in with it in this realm.
She opened the closet to find a collection of white blouses and red skirts similar to what Willow and the servants in the diner had been wearing. Those must be for work.
She pulled open a dresser drawer and found a pair of silken trousers and a thin sleeveless chemise with the words sleeping beauty across its chest.
These must be what passed for sleeping garb in this world.
She grabbed them and headed to the bathroom.
It had a toilet, sink and a tall glass box with faucets.
Willow was used to a luxurious soaking bath, but figured that she could clean herself off well enough in that box.
She stripped down, trying not to look in the mirror.
It would be an odd sensation to see her own face for a while.
I have no reason ever to see her again, she told herself. Willow will enjoy life in faerie. She will be a princess, and never want for anything again. And I will simply slip into her life here.
