by Julie Kagawa
The gnome’s furious gaze met mine, and her face paled. Stumbling away, losing her grip on the door, one hand went to her chest as she stared at me. “Robin,” she whispered as I stood slowly, pushing the door back. “You’ve reverted to that? What’s gotten into you?” She faltered, then pursed her lips and stood firm, glaring up at me. “What can I do for you, Robin Goodfellow?” she asked coldly.
The flash of genuine fear in the gnome’s eyes stabbed me in the heart, and the flare of nastiness faded. Guiltily, I raked a hand through my hair, wincing as my fingers brushed the rough ridge of a horn. Just another reminder that, once upon a time, I was not a good person.
“Apologies for barging in on you so late,” I muttered, being sure to wait in the doorframe and not step over the threshold. “But this is kinda important, Stacilla. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t need your help.”
The gnome sighed. “You and everyone else who gets themselves stabbed, slashed, gored, poisoned, or bitten in the Nevernever.” But she relaxed a bit, beckoning to me with a withered hand. “Well, come on in, don’t just hover in the door letting in flies. But if you expect me to do anything about...this situation,” she went on, glancing at my horns again, “I’m honestly not sure how much I can help. I don’t do curses, you know. If that is even a curse.”
“It’s not for me,” I told her, and stepped into the room, ducking to avoid the ceiling. Even though the quaint stone cottage wasn’t exactly gnome-size, it was still smaller than a normal house. “A friend of mine got pretty torn up recently, and we didn’t want to stomp through the wyldwood bleeding at night. We were hoping you could do the whole patch-em-up thing you do so well.”
“What have you and the Winter prince gotten yourselves into this time?” The gnome rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t he have healers in the Iron Realm that can aid whatever is wrong with him? Or would you get him into trouble with the queen if she found out?”
“Ah ha ha. You know us so well. But, it’s not about ice-boy this time,” I said, and stepped aside, letting Nyx into the cottage behind me. “It’s for her.”
Nyx lowered her head as the gnome’s gaze turned on her. “Please excuse this intrusion into your home,” she said politely. “I apologize for any trouble this has caused you.”
The gnome’s bushy eyebrows arched as she stared at the other faery, who waited calmly with her head slightly bowed. “What in the Nevernever...” she began, before rousing herself with a shake. “I’m sorry, but who is this, Goodfellow? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her kind before, and I have seen nearly everything in the entire realm of Faery at some point.”
“She’s a friend,” I said firmly. “And she’s hurt. Can you help her? We sort of got into a scuffle with something big and toothy.”
Stacilla let out another long-suffering sigh and turned, shoulders hunched in resignation. “Through the hallway,” she said without looking back. “Take the first door on the right. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
We did as she instructed, finding a small room with a bed, a chair, and a cabinet containing all manner of colorful bottles, flasks, and vials within. Curiosity flared; in a less dire situation I would be sorely tempted to fiddle, but at the moment I was more concerned with the faery at my back.
Nyx perched gingerly on the edge of the cot, moving a bit more stiffly now, her jaw rigid as she tried to conceal how much her wounds hurt. My stomach clenched in sympathy. All that time, through the whole fight, she had been badly injured, and it had never showed on her face.
Just like another stubborn fool I know. Is it me? Maybe I just attract that type.
Nyx was certainly an enigma. I wondered where Keirran had found her, or how she had found herself in the Nevernever in the first place. She was different than the others, the Forgotten that had fought in the war with the Lady. And not just in ideals or personality; she looked very different. To stay alive and not Fade away, these Forgotten had been forced to subsist on a nasty glamour made from the fears and nightmares of children. And yeah, it was just as creepy as it sounded. Those Forgotten had survived, but the glamour had changed them into eerie shadow fey, living silhouettes without form or features except for their glowing eyes. The monsters that lived in a child’s closet or under their beds.
If Nyx had arrived in the Nevernever after the war, then it would make sense that she had avoided the glamour that had changed her kin into nightmares. But that didn’t explain how she had “woken up,” or her fanatical loyalty to Keirran. From what they had said, I figured she was some kind of assassin who had served the Lady. An extremely lethal, efficient assassin. One who turned into Sailor Moon when said moon was full, and who would stand in front of a horrific, invincible nightmare beast for her king without batting an eyelash.
Nyx saw me watching her and raised a silver eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Goodfellow?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Just wondering how long you and Keirran have known each other. One normally doesn’t go throwing themselves in front of massive killer death machines for total strangers.”
Her lips twitched into a resigned smile. “I don’t remember much of my past life,” she said. “But I do remember my duty was to protect the ruler of Faery with my entire existence. Even if it meant throwing myself in front of...massive killer death machines.” She stumbled a bit over the phrase, then shrugged. “I no longer have a Lady to serve, so my loyalty goes to the King of the Forgotten.”
“Was it a shock? Coming back to find everything had changed?”
“A bit.” A furrow creased her brow. “When Keirran and I first met, I had just woken up, or returned to existence—whatever happens to Forgotten who come back. I didn’t know how much time had passed, what had happened in the human world, or anything about the rise of the new courts. I didn’t believe him when he told me the Lady was dead.”
“Oh, let me guess. You tried to kill him.”
She winced. “I couldn’t believe this half-mortal boy had defeated the ruler I had been serving for centuries,” she said in disbelief. “The Lady was the most powerful faery in the Nevernever. How could this slip of a human even challenge her?”
I snorted. “Yeah, Keirran isn’t exactly a normal human. Or faery. Or...anything that even comes close to normal, really. I’m betting he surprised you right quick.”
“You could say that.” The edge of a smile crossed her face, though it faded in a blink. “Though I still refused to believe the Lady was really dead. Even when we came to an understanding, I held out hope. I thought she might be slumbering, somewhere deep within Phaed or the Deep Wyld.” A pained look crossed her face, and she shook her head. “I left to find her, but it was as Keirran had said. The Lady was gone, her existence erased from the Nevernever. Nothing remains but memory, and even that is fading.”
For a moment, she looked melancholy, then took a quick breath and raised her head. “So be it. The Lady is no more, and Keirran is my liege now. I should be at his side, protecting him.” Her lips tightened, and her gaze strayed toward the door. “I’ve already failed the Lady. I can’t fail him, too.”
“Keirran can take care of himself,” I assured her. “Trust me, he’s not too keen on someone throwing themself in harm’s way for him. Worry not, though. I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of life-threatening situations before this is done.”
“Yes, well.” Nyx wrinkled her nose, that hint of a smile creeping through again. “Don’t expect me to throw myself in front of a charging death machine for you, Goodfellow.”
“Aw, why not? Is Keirran the only one with that privilege? Am I not handsome enough to die for?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Goodfellow.” Miss Stacey swooshed through the door before I could ask what that meant, and shoved a bowl into my hands. “If you’re going to be here, make yourself useful and go boil some water. Otherwise, kindly stay out of my way. Now...” She turned to the faery on the
bed, climbing onto a stool to better see her patient. “What was your name, again, dearie?”
“Nyx.”
“Well, Nyx. Since I can expect everything from cockatrice bites to being kicked by an irate unicorn with this one—” she jerked a thumb at me “—please show me what I’m dealing with today. Where are you hurt?”
Nyx pulled aside her cloak, and the gnome’s lips tightened.
“Oh my.” Putting down her glasses, she leaned forward and peered at the wounds. “Three lacerations, fairly deep, made by something quite large. They look clean, though.” She eyed the Forgotten over her glasses, pursing her lips. “What were you and Goodfellow fighting, anyway?”
Nyx shifted on the cot. “Why do you want to know?”
“Well, if I’m going to save your life from a basilisk’s poisoned claws, it would be helpful to know such things,” the gnome replied. “The same goes if you’ve been stung by a manticore, bitten by a lycanthrope, stared at by a Medusa, or stabbed by a goblin. The more information you give me, the less time I waste guessing and the quicker I can prevent your insides turning to mush or your flesh becoming stone.” She gave Nyx a stern glare. “So, I don’t care how ridiculous or dangerous a stunt Goodfellow convinced you to try. If you want me to help you, I need to know what I’m dealing with. Including the type of creature that attacked you.”
“I...don’t know what it was,” Nyx said evasively. “I’ve never seen the likes of it before.”
Stacey turned in my direction.
I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never seen it before, either.”
“That I find very difficult to believe, Goodfellow.”
“Hey, you know me, Stacilla.” I flashed a grin at her. “I can’t lie, remember? I will say it was a big ugly bastard with antlers and claws and tentacles growing in places tentacles shouldn’t be. And it had a really bad attitude.”
And it had done something to me. Something I didn’t want to mention or think about, because I was fairly certain the healer couldn’t help. It wasn’t the horns and hooves that bothered me (though I wasn’t exactly pleased about them; fur in summer was just a pain), it was what this sudden transformation meant. Robin Goodfellow, the Puck of the woods, was back. Evil ideas flitted through my mind, pranks and schemes against all those who had insulted, threatened, or cheated me in the past. Pranks that, while I knew they were cruel and spiteful and just downright mean, still sounded hilarious.
I didn’t like those thoughts, but I couldn’t drag others into my plight. Whatever this was, whatever had happened to me, I had to deal with it myself. I knew how these things worked. A simple potion or healing salve wouldn’t cut it. Maybe the only way to break this curse was to destroy the creature that gave it to me. All the more reason to bring in the big guns.
The gnome sighed. “I see,” she muttered. “Well, that tells me nothing, but so be it. I will work with what I have. Now...” That dire glare turned in my direction again. “Where’s that water, Goodfellow?” she demanded. “If you want me to help your friend, I suggest you make yourself useful.”
Giving Nyx a sympathetic grin, I scampered out and did what I was told.
Later, having been banished to the living room, I leaned back against a floral, gnome-size couch and waited for the hallway door to open again. The cottage was still, the faint scuttle of a rodent or brownie in the kitchen the only sound in the darkness.
In the sudden quiet, I ached, the beating I’d taken earlier becoming more apparent with new bruises and twinges I continued to discover by shifting around. Despite the constant, low-grade throbbing, I felt my eyelids getting heavier, my chin falling to my chest as I slumped against the sofa.
I dozed.
And though it was impossible for the fey, I dreamed.
* * *
“You killed her.”
That voice. I knew that voice. Cold. Merciless. Unforgiving.
I turned and saw him behind me, felt the chill from his presence spreading over the ground. His features were cloaked in shadow, hidden from sight, but I knew him as surely as I knew my own reflection. Even if I hadn’t, two things would’ve been a dead giveaway: the ice sword, unsheathed at his side, that glowed like a neon icicle, throwing off waves of mist and cold that writhed into the air; and the lethal silver eyes that glittered like the edge of a blade, glaring at me with utter hate.
“Ash.” My voice came out flippant, and those silver eyes narrowed to slits. I could feel a dangerous grin creeping across my face, and the hilts of my daggers pressed into my palms as I turned to face him fully, raising my weapons. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Still going on about that, are you? I told you it was an accident. When are you going to forget?”
“I will never forget,” the shadow said quietly. “You killed her. It’s your fault Ariella died. Because you are nothing but a force of mayhem, Goodfellow. Your pranks consume whatever you touch, and you care nothing about the aftermath left behind. I will put you down, once and for all, and the rest of the Nevernever will rejoice that Robin Goodfellow is gone at last.”
Deep inside, I felt a ripple of disquiet, the feeling that this scene wasn’t right. The accident... I knew what Ash was talking about, of course. How could I forget? The day when I’d unknowingly led my two best friends into a monster’s lair, and one of us hadn’t survived the encounter. Ariella had been struck down and killed by a giant wyvern, and Ash had never forgiven me for her death.
I knew the incident Ash was referring to, of course. But...it hadn’t happened this way. Or had it? I couldn’t remember, and after a moment, it didn’t matter.
The shadow took a step toward me, raising his glowing sword, and the flicker of unease disappeared.
“Put me down?” I snickered and tensed to spring into action. “We’ll see about that. Come on then, ice-boy,” I mocked. “You want to get rid of me? You and the entire Nevernever. Let’s see if you get any luckier than the last faery who tried.”
The shadow lunged at me, sword raised high. I sprang forward, and around us, the seasons changed as we fought. Winter to Spring, Summer to Autumn, our blades clashed against one another as lightning flickered and snow fell from the clouds. Back and forth we went, neither giving an inch, sword and daggers seeking to end the other’s life. A cycle that would never end. And all the while, his words echoed around us, flat and accusing, filled with hate.
You killed her.
She’s dead because of you.
No one wants you alive.
I was a fool to ever trust you.
Snarling, I leaped into the air, coming down with a flurry of vicious blows, and drove the shadow back a few paces, though he parried every one of them. Panting, we broke apart and circled one another like wolves, looking for an opening.
“She never loved you.”
My steps faltered, a cold lance going through my stomach. Ash wasn’t talking about Ariella now. Lowering my arms, I stared at him, hating the Winter prince for bringing it up. For throwing that cold truth in my face.
“In fact,” the shadow went on, “she barely tolerated you. The only thing you were good for was keeping her alive those first days in the Nevernever. As soon as she found out who she really was, that she was the daughter of the Summer King, she knew you weren’t good enough for her. That’s why she chose me.”
I bared my teeth in a grin, gripping my daggers so hard my knuckles throbbed. “Don’t tell me things I already know, ice-boy,” I snarled, and lunged at him.
* * *
“Robin!”
I jerked awake with a start, the swirling battle, the raging emotions, and Ash’s voice fading into the ether as I opened my eyes. The wrinkled face of the gnome peered up at me, the look on her face one of exasperation and concern. She held a clay mug in one hand, tendrils of steam coiling from the top and fading into the darkness.
“Back with us, then?” she asked as I bli
nked the last of the sleep from my eyes. For some reason, my heart was pounding against my ribs, making me frown. Had I been dreaming? That was weird; the fey didn’t normally dream unless some kind of magic was in effect, a spell or a curse of some kind. What had I even been dreaming about? Everything was flashes, blips, and images I couldn’t quite remember.
Something hot slid down my cheek, stinging my eyes.
“Robin,” the gnome said again. “Did you hear me?”
“Huh?”
“Hmph, as I thought,” the gnome went on. “You’re exhausted. Don’t think I didn’t see those nasty bruises across your face. Something really kicked you around, didn’t it? Here.” She pushed the mug at me. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”
“Appreciate it,” I muttered, taking the offered mug. The steam burned my nostrils, smelling of herbs and lavender as I took a sip. “How’s our good Forgotten?”
“Resting at the moment.” Stacey shook her head. “Nasty business, those wounds. Deeper than I first thought. Whatever you ran afoul of, it’s not something I’d want to see around here. So...” She gave me a hard stare from behind her glasses. “Answer me this, Robin. Whatever that creature was, whatever monstrosity you ran into, was it also responsible for the return of the old Goodfellow?”
I choked a bit on the hot liquid, snorting it up my nose. “Ow. What? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Robin.” Stacey sighed, waiting until my eyes had stopped watering and I could give her my full attention. “I’ve known you a long time. I remember the old days, the days when the name Goodfellow was a curse among mortals and fey alike. I know this...” she twirled a stubby finger at my forehead “...isn’t who you want to be any longer. Or if it is, then that Robin Goodfellow is someone I really don’t want to see in my clinic. Or anywhere in the Nevernever. So, what happened?”
