I had seen how easily Magic had been thrown into disarray. Twice now, I had seen storms and wild weather strike when spells weren’t followed properly.
“They used Magic against itself,” Dallan said. “They made sure everything they did fit some preexisting pattern. Princesses in towers. The Beast’s True Love.”
“Twelve Princesses Dancing.” I nodded with understanding. “As long as they made it fit what we were supposed to do, Magic remained calm?”
Dallan’s lips twisted. “Well, not completely. You saw how tightly they had Magic bound in Orionis. Following the set patterns meant that Magic could not fight the bindings. Like an ouroboros, it was forced to bind and consume itself.”
With my understanding of Magic as a sentient thing, that sounded particularly cruel.
“That’s like if I had to dig my own grave every day,” I muttered.
Astraea looked queasy.
I didn’t blame her.
“What now?” I asked. “With so many Fairy Godparents unable to work, how will we keep the balance?”
“Fortunately, not many spells are time-sensitive,” Dallan said. “That’s how they were able to prolong things so long in Orionis. That spell should have been completed after a couple years at the longest. Instead, they dragged it on for ten years.”
“We are also hoping that your ability to speak to Magic and have it understand you will help things from collapsing entirely,” Astraea said cheerfully.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You really expect me to be able to keep it in line? Across the entire world?”
“With help,” Dallan reminded me, his lips twitching.
I leaned back in my chair and groaned. “And here I was hoping to get a rest.”
Astraea cackled. “No rest for the weary.”
“That’s supposed to be ‘no rest for the wicked’,” I told her.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense, does it? The wicked fairies are all getting plenty of rest while the rest of us try to figure out what to do with them.”
My eyes widened as I appreciated a new part of the problem. I had visited the tiny fairy prison once to see my cousin. Just where were they holding all these fairies?
Astraea waved a dismissive hand when I asked. “We just asked the prison to sprout a few extra rooms,” she said. “We’ve had human builders setting up all the Cold Iron, of course, but the rest of the work was done in an instant.”
“You awakened the prison?” I gaped at her.
She grinned. “More or less. It’s a peculiar place, with all the Cold Iron around to keep the Magic out. It’s made for a rigid sort of personality. Fitting for a prison, really.”
If Astraea had her way, every building in our world would end up awakened. I shook my head at the thought of walking through a city full of buildings vying for attention.
“I thought we were supposed to avoid Chaos, not create it,” I teased.
Dallan nudged his sister. “See? I told you that’s what you were doing.”
She sighed. “Forgive me for trying to make something easier these days. It’s not like I’ve gone around awakening every structure in the world.”
“Thankfully she doesn’t have the power for that,” Dallan said. “And our house refuses to help anymore.”
Astraea looked at me hopefully. I knew she was convinced that I would be able to awaken buildings without needing their house to assist me.
I shook my head at her. “Even if I could,” I told her, “I wouldn’t. Think how unfair that would be to the houses. What if people didn’t treat them right?”
My own house appeared to agree. It slid a glass of water in front of Astraea on the table and tipped it over into her lap.
She jumped up and tried to shake the water out of her skirt.
“Even the house agrees,” Dallan said.
Astraea shook her head at all of us—including the house. “Fine. I won’t make another attempt. Not that I could anyway. Meanwhile, Grace, you know we’re going to need your help sorting out all this mess. Your witness is invaluable.”
I wrinkled my nose. I really wanted to make a face, but that was probably too juvenile for a fairy of my age. “That sounds about as fun as brushing my teeth with a razor,” I said. I paused for a second, biting my lip. “How many fairies know that I’m alive?”
“Everyone,” Dallan said, watching my face for a reaction.
I wasn’t sure I knew what reaction to have. So, my parents had thought I was dead. Now, they knew I was alive and they hadn’t made any effort to reach out to me or contact me in any way.
I caught myself drumming my fingertips on the table and forced myself to stop. Both Astraea and Dallan were watching me now with worried expressions.
“I’m going to have to go see them,” I said slowly. “It has to be me. They can lie to you, they can lie to each other, but I’ll know if they lie to me.”
“Are you sure?” Dallan asked. I knew he was asking more than if I was just sure I would know if they were lying to me. He knew just how hard this could be.
Astraea watched me curiously. “We can find a way to learn the truth without having to sacrifice you.”
I managed a weak grin. “No. It really does have to be me. There some very specific things I have to ask them. I need to look them in the eyes this time. Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
I said this last part to Dallan. He looked concerned. It was nice to know that the worry was for my wellbeing, not because he doubted my abilities.
No, we were exactly where we were because he did believe in my abilities.
Now, that was a sobering thought.
“It’s probably best that you both be there too,” I admitted. “Because I know I can get them to talk, but there’s no way I will ever get them to listen to me. There’s going to be a point tomorrow that you’re going to have to step in and flaunt your status.”
Astraea’s delicate eyebrows rose. “Tomorrow?”
I nodded seriously. “Yes. Tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow.”
And it wasn’t just so I wouldn’t lose my nerve.
I needed to make sure they didn’t have enough time to prepare themselves.
Chapter Eighteen
We arrive on longma-back. It wasn’t just because it made us look powerful. It also had the practicality of being able to make a quick escape if things went wrong.
And I fully expected things to go wrong.
It was strange approaching the family complex with the eyes of a stranger. I had lived in this place for most of my first two centuries, and off and on over this past century as well when it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to escape the family business.
I bet my parents were rethinking all the times they’d criticized my art or popovers.
It felt like a thousand years since I’d last been here. But it wasn’t nearly that long. It was only… days? Surely longer than that. My days were still all tangled together from my time in Orionis.
I almost wished I was there again, dancing all night with bloody feet, instead of here.
Almost.
It was said, a saying that we learned from the humans, that time moved quickest when we enjoyed what we were doing, and slowest when we hated it.
It seemed backwards to me. I dreaded every inch of this path, and yet it was passing so fast.
The buildings of my former home were a sprawl of white, regal shapes. The whiteness of the outer walls were broken up by balconies and bright flowering plants, neatly trimmed to the perfect shape.
Nothing less than perfect was acceptable here.
I could hear voices inside. My kin were noisy folk for the most part. They weren’t shouting or fighting, really, they just spoke at a volume that other fairies didn’t.
We were one of the wealthiest clans, and this place had been built to flaunt wealth. Every inch of the substantial lands had been manicured to perfection. The many buildings had been built around a singular courtyard, where the families co
uld gather.
That courtyard alone was larger than most village commons. It was large enough to support jousts and carnivals and festivals.
We rode under the first set of portcullises into the commons.
Had it always been so large?
It had always felt so small, so stifling to me.
Banners flew from each of the houses, from this vantage. We were all one clan, but each family within the clan was proud for their own achievements. This was where we showed off our superiority, not to the outside world but to each other.
There, the grandest of all houses, boasting the greatest height, the brightest flowers, and the most impeccable gargoyles, was my childhood home.
If we had approached it from the road, as was intended, instead of through the center lands, we would have seen its public face. Here, it almost looked homey, if a little austere.
I lifted my eyes and saw the balcony off the rooms where I assumed I still had ownership. The cracked blue flowerpot with its single unfruiting fig tree, I noticed, had been removed.
Not good enough, I reminded myself.
Returning to this place always made me feel diminished. There were so many fairies who found happiness here, but I never had. I’d never felt like a true member of the clan. I’d always had my excuses for why. I didn’t have wings. I wasn’t pretty enough. I wasn’t smart enough. I just wasn’t… enough.
“Pretty,” Astraea commented.
I nodded tightly. “Yes.”
It was pretty.
And it left me cold.
I swung down from Philautia, who was my mount for the day as Astraea was riding Agape. Dallan, I saw, had his hands full with Ludus. The longma mare turned her head and nudged me gently. She was daintier than her male counterparts, but with more fire in her eyes and mane. I reminded myself that I, like Philautia, was strong.
And blue. But that was probably a bit too literal.
Astraea and Dallan dismounted, too. We all snapped the longma’s reins into the appropriate place on their saddles, which would allow them to fly around safely without the hazard of free-falling reins.
We watched as they turned away from us and took to the sky. We had asked them to fly overhead and keep an eye out in case they were needed. They should, they’d told me, be able to hear me if I called, but if they couldn’t, I had back-up. Flit sat on my shoulder, his tail curled loosely around my neck.
My eyes were distracted by two winged horses being led past the stables at that moment. One was a red mare with gold wings. The other a gold horse with red wings.
I watched them for a moment, then turned back to my house.
I knocked on the back door.
I knew that this gesture would irritate my parents. It would also throw them off their usual game. The front rooms were designed to intimidate and flaunt power and wealth.
The back rooms were not quite as grand, though certainly grand enough for company.
If it was expected.
We were not.
A young fairy maid that I didn’t recognize cracked open the door. She blinked at the three of us uncertainly.
I smiled gently at her. “Hello, there! I don’t think I know you. I’m Grace. I used to live here. Are my parents home?”
Her eyes widened. I could see the moment she realized just exactly who my two companions were. It was harder these days to know at first sight, because they’d stopped wearing their cloaks, and looming all the time.
I wouldn’t have minded some of that intimidation right now, though it was nice to have friends by my side.
“Who is there?” I could hear my mother call out crossly. “Don’t dawdle at the door, girl. Just tell whoever it is to go away. We’re in far too much of a hurry for company just now.”
“Hello, Mother,” I said, stepping forward so that the young fairy had no choice but to step out of my way. I felt a little sorry for her. “You should go home now,” I told her quietly.
She looked at me uncertainly, then at the twins behind me. They nodded.
She scampered for the door. It closed behind us.
“Gracie?” My mother swept partway down the stairs and stared down at me in horror.
“Hello, Maman,” I said. “Don’t look so shocked. You must have known that I was alive.”
As I had hoped, my mother was not dressed up in her finest as she would have if I had warned her of our visit. Instead she was wearing a relatively simple white dress. It was the sort of thing she wore around the house when she was involved in something taxing, like planning a party, or…
“Moving, Maman?” I asked, waving my arm at the piles of boxes that filled the floor of the usually spacious back entrance hall. It looked like everything had been shoved in there, including a very cross pink and red bird, who swore at us in six languages before my mother made an impatient gesture and it stopped being able to make any sound at all.
I seemed to have done the same to my mother, but without any Magic, just my presence.
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Where would we go? Why ever would we leave our lovely home?”
I just looked at her.
And she, she was the one who looked away. She picked nervously at her shirtwaist and drew in a wavering breath.
“I suppose you should all come in,” she said, jerking her head awkwardly. “Come up to my private parlor. I’ll… call for your father.”
Dallan raised his eyebrows.
I nodded. We should be safe, I thought. Now, anyhow.
Flit peeped in my ear. I reached up to give his chin a reassuring scratch.
Magic, too, felt unsettled. Maybe it was picking up on my own emotions. It curled around me, like a friend offering a gentle hug or words of support.
We climbed the stairs. They were broad and comfortable, not the sort of stairs that set off anyone with a fear of heights but the kind designed to show off anyone who walked on them to the best advantage. My mother had posed for at least six of her portraits on these stairs.
The front stairs were grand, but these were grand and beautiful.
Probably my mother’s hand at work, I admitted.
It was harder to remember the good things about my parents, and there were many. It was easier to focus on the wrongs they had done, the many ways and times they had hurt me, the neglect and selfishness that had been the centerpiece of my existence.
But they were not only those things.
They were flawed, yes, but they were still fairies. They had gifts and talents and thoughts and dreams. Had I been a disappointment to them? Yes. And it wasn’t entirely their fault. I had done my best not to yield to their wishes, even from a young age.
I showed my guests to my mother’s private parlor. It was a lovely room, though it reminded me too much of the sitting room in the castle in Orionis for my comfort. It reminded me of the time I had spent there.
If I glanced out one of the windows, I could just make out the stables. I’d loved this view as a child. I would read the latest book my father had given me in a chair that was reserved just for me, and I would read and look down there, and daydream.
My lips curved at the memory.
Then I lost it, as the present all came rushing back to me again.
I steered Dallan and Astraea away from my parents’ usual seats and we made ourselves comfortable. We didn’t have to wait long. First my mother, and then my father, entered the room.
I met my father’s eyes.
Like my mother, he glanced away.
I sat straight and tall, the way they had taught me. I crossed my ankles and not my knees. I set my hands in my lap, not like dead doves, but perched like delicate birds about to take flight.
I breathed in.
And out.
My parents took their seats and looked at us.
And looked at me.
I knew what they wanted me to do. I could read it in their faces. They wanted me to choose the clan, to protect them, to manipulate the truth the way they had tried so hard to
teach me.
But I couldn’t.
Too much was at stake.
I stopped myself from licking my lips. I could not make any show of weakness. I needed to be calm and sure. “You tried to warn me against taking over Ferdie’s kingdoms,” I said.
My mother’s eyes widened slightly. She made the barest motion, begging me not to continue.
I felt no joy in what I did. It had to be done.
“You knew,” I said.
“Ferdinand has done many things in many lands that we know nothing of,” my mother said quickly.
I felt pity for her. “Your games won’t help you,” I said gently. “I know them all. How not? You taught them to me. I know that you were aware of what Ferdie did.”
“Yes,” my father said.
My mother shot him a glare full of dangers.
He shot her back an expression of clear focus. Gone was his dithering scholar aesthetic.
“We knew,” he said. “And we benefitted, as did all of the clan. We never used such tactics ourselves, but we reaped the rewards of those in our clan and other fairies who did.”
I nodded to him. For the first time in my life, I felt a kind of respect for him.
“Everyone knew,” my mother hissed.
“I didn’t,” I said.
My mother’s hands fluttered in a frustrated, helpless sort of way.
“No,” she said, plainly. “We kept that away from you.”
“We didn’t want that for you,” my father added.
“Not knowing nearly killed me,” I reminded them.
Both of my parents turned gray.
“Surely,” my mother’s voice broke. “Surely you weren’t injured that badly?”
“I would be dead,” I said baldly, “if a unicorn hadn’t healed me.”
I could see them trying to process what I had said.
My mother reached for my father’s hand and squeezed it.
“How much do you really know?” I asked.
“Everything,” my mother whispered. “We know everything.”
My father nodded. He looked abruptly five hundred years older.
Twelve Dancing Witnesses Page 12
