Modern Faerie Tales

by Holly Black

  The seagull landed on one of the black rocks of near the shore. Lutie climbed down off its back, untied the saddle, and waved the creature off. It looked around in confusion, as though unsure of how it came to be there, and then began grooming its feathers.

  “Silly thing,” Lutie said, petting its head with some affection. From there, Lutie headed toward the palace, pausing only to alight on the branch of a tree and change into a strapless red-and-gold Barbie ball gown that gave her the shape of a bell.

  Guards were stopping those that approached the towering knowe, but as usual, no one bothered with Lutie. As a sprite, she flew right over the guards’ heads. They gave her as little notice as a mortal might give a lightning bug.

  Inside, the hollow hall was bustling with activity. There appeared to be no revel that night, and instead courtiers sat around the room, a few trailing between groups. Lutie looked for other sprites and found a clump of them among a particularly thick knot of trailing roots. They wore fanciful little gowns of petals and scraps of velvet, lit to fine effect by the glow of their bodies. Lutie was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was wearing the dress of a doll, even it if was very nice. She wasn’t sure if she felt provincial or very modern.

  “Um, hello,” said Lutie.

  One of the other sprites—a boy—stepped away from the others. He looked her over with some disdain, and she gave him an equally haughty look back. “You’re not of the High Court,” he said. “Where do you hail from?”

  “West of here,” she told him. “East of elsewhere. I am looking for a courtier.” Lutie was not enormously skilled with glamour, but she could draw an image in the air. She swept her hand in the space between them, and a picture of Ethine formed, an Ethine with dark hair. It held a moment and then faded into shimmers.

  The boy frowned. “And for what reason should I help you?”

  “That’s easy.” Lutie fished around in her rucksack and came up with a chocolate-covered coffee bean. “I will trade you a rare treat from the mortal world, which will please your tongue and work upon your blood, filling it with joy.”

  He looked skeptical, but after a moment, reached for the bean. “I will make this trade, strange one. The courtier is known as Ethna, one of the Princess Elowyn’s ladies. She belongs to the Circle of Larks, who love music and art above all other things. Look for a woman with golden skin and you will find her close by. I would try that group there.” He pointed. “Where Edir is about to embarrass himself with his poor playing.”

  Lutie squinted. Then she nodded, pleased with herself. Another obstacle overcome! And all because of her good planning.

  The sprite boy bit the edge of the chocolate bean. As she flew off, she saw more sprites had gathered around him, taking bites of their own. One looked a little confused, having clearly bit through the chocolate layer and into the bean itself.

  She discovered Ethine close to where the boy had pointed, serving herself a goblet of lilac wine near where poetry was being recited. Her dyed-black hair was drawn up into combs. She wore a gown in the pale blue of the morning sky with rose dusting the edges.

  “Excuse me,” Lutie said, hovering in the air in front of her.

  Ethine looked at Lutie in surprise, but not recognition. She was probably unused to being addressed by a sprite. “Yes?” she said, not at all encouragingly.

  “I am from the Court of Termites, sent here by your brother’s consort. Kaye wishes a meeting with you.” Lutie hoped that sounded formal enough. It was certainly a longer sentence than she usually spoke.

  “No one knows me here,” Ethine’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “And I do not wish to be known.”

  “Maybe we could talk alone.” Lutie was unwilling to be dismissed. After all, she was on the verge of her first successful mission.

  Ethine looked toward the other court ladies and the Princess Elowyn. “I suppose,” she said, seeming to realize that arguing with Lutie in the middle of the brugh was going to make the scene she’d been attempting to avoid. “Follow me.”

  Ethine led her into the hall, then to a room off of it, a parlor thick with the scent of earth and flowers. “So Kaye sent you?”

  Lutie nodded. “Yes, she wants to talk. She wants you to reconcile with Lord Roiben.”

  “Lord Roiben,” Ethine scoffed, turning his title into the focus of her contempt. Lutie fluttered in astonishment, wondering if she would be so foolish as to say something like that to his face. Not many would and expect to survive it.

  “You’re still angry with your brother,” Lutie said, then regretted it when Ethine turned her glare upon her.

  “If he’d only put his pride aside,” Ethine said. “I know he was angry. The Unseelie Court treated him poorly. But he and Silarial could have united the courts without any bloodshed.”

  Lutie looked at her with bafflement, but then, she didn’t understand much about politics. Nor did she understand the point of imagining how things could have been had everything happened differently. “Will you meet with Kaye? Just to talk.”

  Ethine shook her head. “No. Her coming here will just draw attention—and to no purpose. I do not intend to see my brother again.”

  “She might come anyway,” Lutie warned. “If you pick the time and place—”

  “Tell her not to come,” Ethine said, her voice rising. “Tell her I won’t see her, no matter what she says and no matter to whom she says it.”

  Lutie sighed. This was not the sort of success that would get her medals and praise and trusted with important tasks in the future. She’d found Ethine and she’d gotten an answer, but it wasn’t the answer anyone wanted.

  “Yes,” said Lutie, wings drooping. “I will.”

  Ethine left the parlor without looking back. After a moment, Lutie decided to follow her. She had to find another seabird to take her home. But perhaps first she would have a bit of oatcake and a gossip with the sprites she’d met. That would make her feel better and fortify her for the journey. And if it made Ethine a little nervous that she was still around, well, that might be a little bit satisfying.

  With those thoughts running through her mind, she flew out of the parlor. She was moving fast enough that she didn’t notice the man.

  At least not until his gloved hands closed around her. Lutie screamed in her tiny voice. She struggled and bit and kicked, but that only made him grip her more tightly.

  “Got you.” He wore a crown on his brow and a scowl on his face. “You should be honored. It’s not everyone who can be the prisoner of the eldest prince of Elfhame. And you’re going to help me get my father’s crown.”

  Those ominous words made Lutie struggle harder. He gave her an amused look and then tossed her into a sack, drawing it tightly around her. There was a strange scent on the cloth.

  Within minutes, Lutie was asleep.

  She woke in a cage made of woven gold. It had the shape of a birdcage, but the bars were much narrower and the things inside were clearly intended for a sprite. She was lying across a cushion. Beside her sat half of a plum and a miniature blown-glass goblet of watered wine.

  She went to the edge and looked down. The cage hung up in the corner of a room, the rest of which appeared to be filled with revelers. Clearly, a party was going on.

  Lutie had to get out of the cage. Now was a good time, while there was so much noise that no one was likely to notice. There was a clasp on the door, twisted tight with thick wire. She set to work on that, sticking her arm through the bars, pushing on it as hard as she could.

  “Look,” said a girl’s voice. “The sprite’s awake. What does your brother want it for?”

  Outside of the cage, two of the Folk stood: One, a girl from the Undersea, with the characteristic webbed ears and that strange translucence to her teeth. The other was apparently related to the prince who’d captured her. Lutie might have guessed, even without the girl’s words. He had the same features, with spilled-ink hair and a sneer to rival his brother’s. Another prince, then.

 
“Debauchery, I’d wager,” said the young prince. “He grows easily bored.”

  The girl wrinkled her nose fastidiously.

  “Let me out,” Lutie said, although she had little hope. “Please.”

  The girl gave a tinkling laugh, but the boy drew closer. His eyes glittered with something Lutie didn’t like.

  “We’re all trapped in cages, little sprite,” he told her. “How can I free you when I can’t even free myself?”

  “Get away from there, Cardan.” Lutie raised her eyes to see that the elder prince, the one who captured her, had come into the room. The boy—Prince Cardan, she supposed—and the girl retreated. He swiped a bottle of wine from the table and they headed toward a set of stairs.

  Lutie watched them go with regret as her cage was taken off its hook. “Awake at last,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. You may address me as Prince Balekin, or if you prefer, my lord.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Lutie, accustomed to the Gentry and their love of pomp and ceremony.

  “Now you will give me your name,” he said. Without his gloves, his knuckles seemed to have thorns growing from them, thorns that ridged his wrists, disappearing up under his clothes.

  “Lutie,” she told him.

  “A mere scrap of one,” he told her, although he could hardly expect her to give him the whole thing.

  When she didn’t answer, he carried the whole cage out of the room, sending it swinging so that the wine spilled, the goblet shattered, and the plum went hurtling around like a boulder. Lutie clung to the side, looking out at all the rooms they passed through.

  It turned out that questing was terrible and that she was terrible at questing.

  The party went on with people drinking and singing, in various states of undress. Eventually, Prince Balekin came to a door and passed through into an office, where he set the cage down heavily on a desk.

  “Now admit it, you’re from the Court of Termites,” he said.

  Lutie was startled. “How did you—”

  “I have spies,” he said. “They overheard that you were looking for a courtier. Ethna? Isn’t that right? I never gave her much notice before, but I have now. In particular, I noticed that the roots of her hair are a rather startling silver.”

  Lutie’s heart thudded in her chest. This wasn’t how the mission was supposed to go. She’d considered what would happen if she didn’t manage to complete the job—if she couldn’t find Ethine and had to go home in disgrace. But she’d never considered causing harm.

  “What do you want?” Lutie demanded.

  “Just confirmation that I was right. And now I have that.” He smiled, smug. “She’s on her way here. I imagine that the three of us will have a lot to discuss.”

  Lutie fumed in her cage. She kicked the plum, although it bounced back at her and she had to jump out of its way.

  Prince Balekin called for servants to bring a tray with wine and figs. He called for another servant to bring him Ethna, from his sister’s circle, who would be arriving any minute.

  When she did come, she looked out of sorts. She wore the same gown she’d had on before, but over it was a cloak that she waved off a servant’s attempt to take. “My lord,” she said, with a curtsy. “Your invitation was very kind. And your messengers were very insistent, but—” She bit off her words as she noticed the cage with Lutie in it. “You. What are you doing here?”

  “You were once called Ethine of the Court of Flowers, isn’t that right?” Prince Balekin asked, ignoring her question to Lutie.

  “A long time ago,” she said, stiffly.

  “So, you’re really his sister.” Balekin grinned the kind of slow malicious grin that signaled something really bad was going to happen.

  “We are estranged,” Ethine said. “The last time I saw my brother, we were at swords drawn.”

  Balekin’s gaze went to Lutie. “True,” she said. “All true. She hates him.”

  “Ah,” said Balekin. “But she will invite him here, nonetheless. You see, Prince Dain would take my rightful place as my father’s heir. He has worked at that goal, to make High King Eldred trust only him. You know that Princess Elowyn has been pushed out of the line of succession in much the same way.”

  “Princess Elowyn doesn’t care to play politics,” Ethine said.

  “Well I do!” Prince Balekin shouted, and she took a nervous step back. He held up his hands consolingly. “And if the mighty Lord of the Court of Termites agrees to join the High Court, I can show my father that I am worthy of being his heir.”

  “If you believe that I can make my brother do anything, you are much mistaken.” Ethine sighed. “He might come here for me, but he wouldn’t bow his head to his own beloved. Not for her sake, not for mine or for the sake of the people who were once those he loved best in the world.”

  Oh, this was all her fault, Lutie thought. If Roiben came and made a bad bargain for Ethine’s sake, it was because of her. Because of her failure. Back in Ravus’s workroom, Lutie had worried that Roiben was a handsome murder-loving murderer with no heart. Now she hoped that was true. If he had a heart, he was going to get in a lot of trouble.

  “Write and invite him,” urged Balekin. He took a piece of paper and set it on his desk, beside an inkwell and a feather, the end cut into a fresh nib.

  “Yes, and then I will take the message!” Lutie said. Perhaps if they sent her with it, she could go to Kaye. Kaye would have a plan.

  Balekin shook his head. “You will stay in your cage and tell me all you can of the Court of Termites. Once the Lady Ethine composes her correspondence.”

  Ethine stared at the pen as though it was a snake that might turn upon her at any moment and bite. “I will not write to him. And your sister would not like to see one of her ladies so ill-used.”

  “I am the eldest prince of Elfhame and I will do what I like with you,” Prince Balekin said. “And if Elowyn doesn’t like it, more’s the pity.”

  “Let me,” Lutie said.

  He turned a scowl on her. “You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yes!” Lutie said. “Very eager. I was on an important mission to arrange a meeting. And now a meeting will be arranged.”

  At that, Balekin threw back his head and laughed. “I suppose it is no bad thing that you have your own priorities, especially since they don’t conflict with my own.”

  “Do not do this,” Ethine cautioned, but Lutie ignored her.

  Balekin untwisted the wire on her cage. Lutie considered attempting an escape. He might grab her, but if he missed, she was very hard to catch once she got going. She could be out the window and then away from Elfhame entirely.

  But if she left Ethine behind, then Balekin would make her write to Roiben. And he might be able to get the message there faster than Lutie flew. And it wasn’t really doing a job well if you made everything worse for all the people you were supposed to be helping. With a sigh, Lutie remained motionless as Balekin took out the plum, mopped up the spilled wine and plum juice, and placed the writing materials on the floor of the cage.

  Kaye was clever. Now Lutie just had to be clever too.

  She began to write:

  Kaye,

  Wonderful news! Everyone will be happy to hear that I found Ethine in the Court of Elfhame. All it took was asking around. Roiben ought to come and meet with her. Ending the enmity between them seems possible. Have him come as soon as he is able. Obviously, he is very busy. Still, he should come. The sooner the better. Alone. Go and tell him as soon as you can. Every day is another day without them speaking.

  Sincerely,

  LUTIE

  Balekin took the note out of the cage when she was done writing. He snorted, reading it over. “Laying it on a bit thick, no?” he asked.

  Lutie gave him her best blank look, and he shook his head.

  “It’ll do,” he said finally. “So long as he comes. If not, it will be you who suffers. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, torn between relief
and fresh worry.

  “You will remain here,” Balekin told Ethine. “Hardly the first of the Court of Larks to slip into the Court of Grackles for a little fun. Come, make merry. Drink deep. Drown your sorrows.”

  Ethine gave him a scandalized look, but she let him escort her out. That left Lutie alone in the cage. She retrieved the wet cushion from the side of the cage and threw herself down on it. She tried to consider this as just another obstacle to the successful completion of a quest, but it didn’t work. She was too worried. Would Kaye understand her message? Kaye was clever, but would she remember to be clever just then? It was hard to think of anything else.

  Time passed. Enspelled human servants came, first to hang her cage in the hall, and then at strange hours to shove scraps into it from whatever food was being served elsewhere. Bits of fat and gristle. Hard ends of cheese. Shriveled grapes. Lutie ate them and drank the stale, warm water too. Who knew when they might forget her entirely.

  She saw the young Prince Cardan argue with the Undersea girl. “Betrayer, do not believe you won’t be betrayed in turn,” he told her. “And don’t think it won’t give me pleasure when you are. Maybe more pleasure than your company ever did.”

  When the girl stalked off, he noticed Lutie looking. “You know what my brother usually does to sprites? He traps them under glass to use as lights until they die. Because that’s all they’re good for.”

  Lutie pushed herself against the bars on the opposite side of the cage. “He won’t be High King,” she said, because that’s all she knew Balekin wanted.

  Prince Cardan laughed. “You think Dain would be better? Or me, prophesied to be a monster?”

  Lutie stayed pressed against the bars until he went away, hating the High Court and everyone in it.

  Another time, she saw Ethine staggering, too sick with drink to stand, her body thudding into a wall as she passed. Lutie called down to her, but she didn’t seem to hear.

  Then one of the servants took Lutie’s cage down from the hook and brought her into a parlor, where Lord Roiben was sitting, drinking a cup of tea. He was dressed entirely in black, his shining hair spilling over his shoulders in a cascade, like mercury from a broken thermometer. Balekin stood nearby, with Ethine beside him. She looked tired, dressed in a gown embroidered with lavender stalks. Her hair was silver again, and short.