by Amy Wilson
‘I have my own glamouring to see to,’ she says. ‘I haven’t got enough for anybody else. You’re lucky you don’t need to do it. What are you, exactly?’
‘I’m a sprite,’ I say sharply, staring at her. She’s a moon sprite herself – I remember Yanny saying. Perhaps that accounts for her silver eyes and the night-dark hair that spirals around her face.
‘I thought you looked a bit crinkly about the hairline!’ says a small, round-limbed girl called Wren, coming over to sit next to me. She has tiny, beautiful horns at the top of her forehead. ‘Look – your ears are just the tiniest bit pointed, like mine.’ She pulls back her shining brown hair to reveal her own pointed ears, and grins. ‘Welcome, Stella – sprite girl.’
‘Thank you, Wren,’ I say, looking between her and Tash. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to come to school. I didn’t realize there would be fae here.’
‘And you live in that funny old house?’ Wren asks, while Tash glowers at us both. ‘Who with?’
‘My nan, and Peg, and Teacake.’
‘What’s a peg? Who’s Teacake?’
‘Teacake is a cat. And Peg’s an imp.’
‘An imp! Your family must be important for him to stick around. They don’t like staying in one place much.’
‘I think he just likes Nan.’
‘Who’s Nan?’ asks Tash.
‘My grandma. She’s a ghost.’
There’s a stunned silence.
‘You mean . . . ghosts are real?’ whispers Wren. ‘Like, she talks and everything? Can she move things? Is she bound to your house? Ooh! Could you bring her to school?’
I stifle a laugh at the thought of bringing Nan to school.
‘You didn’t know that ghosts were real?’ I ask.
‘We still don’t know they’re real,’ says Tash.
‘No!’ says Wren. ‘My parents always said they were legends; just stories told to children to teach them lessons about things.’
‘Well, humans do that about the fae,’ I say.
Wren laughs, but Tash sniffs and looks at her long, pointed nails. I bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything else stupid.
‘Don’t worry about Tash,’ says Wren. ‘She’s not great with new people. She’s not great with old people either, to be honest – but she does get easier with time.’
Tash stalks off and gets into a fierce debate with someone on the other side of the room, gesticulating out of the window.
‘What’s that about?’ I ask.
‘It was a bad night in the forest,’ Wren says. ‘Something’s shifted, and nobody really knows why. No disasters, exactly, but the nights are so long now that it’s winter, and even the daylight is just murk. The ivy on the trees has grown so thick, it hardly lets any light through. More of them are getting sick.’
‘Is Yanny OK?’
‘Strictly under house arrest,’ she says. ‘And I don’t expect he’s happy about it!’
‘It was my fault.’
‘It wasn’t.’ She frowns. ‘From what I heard, you just made sure he got home safe. I heard you dealt with the shadows pretty well yourself . . .’
I sigh. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘But we know you have some affinity with the shadows – Rory told us.’ says Tash, ‘which seems pretty strange to me.’
The room instantly feels darker and colder. Wren rolls her eyes and tries to brush it aside, and Principal Ashworth comes in and starts waffling about Safety in the Modern Human World, but the feeling stays, and it isn’t only Tash who looks sideways at me after that. It’s a huge relief to get out of there and downstairs, where Zara is waiting for me.
‘Why does everyone look so glum?’ she whispers, tucking her arm through mine and leading me off to tutorial.
‘It was a difficult night in the forest, apparently,’ I say. ‘And they all think I’m some kind of evil shadow-bending sprite creature, so that didn’t really help.’
‘A what?’
‘Something Tash said . . .’ And Rory, whose coldness I can’t forget. The way the shadow drew close to me last night, before I sent it away.
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Zara says. ‘There’s nothing evil about you. Speaking of which, I wondered . . . Mum’s working a late shift tonight – maybe I could come to yours?’
I grin at her. ‘You just want to see Peg again!’
‘He is amazing,’ she says. ‘But also, I figured . . . maybe it’s a bit lonely sometimes at yours. I know it’s lonely at mine when Mum’s at work.’
‘Doesn’t anyone stay with you?’ I ask.
‘My aunt comes and stays if Mum’s working nights, but late shifts mean she’s home by nine, so I sort myself out.’
‘What about . . . Do you see your dad much?’
‘Not so much,’ she says, marching on through all the kids, dragging me with her. ‘Anyway. Tea tonight? We need to work out a plan, anyway, right?’
‘Definitely! But . . . Zara.’
She turns back to me.
‘You can talk to me, if you want to . . . about things. You know that?’
‘I know,’ she says with a wobbly sort of smile. She takes a breath. ‘It’s complicated.’
I nod. ‘But when you’re ready.’
‘When I’m ready, you’ll be the first to know,’ she says. ‘Come on. We’ll be late.’
I pull her close as we walk, just so she knows she isn’t alone. Even if sometimes she feels that way.
‘All right?’ asks Zara, frowning as I fumble with the charms at the gate.
My head started buzzing on the way home, and my vision is full of sparking lines.
‘Yeah. I don’t know. Got a bit of a funny head.’
‘It’s been a full-on couple of days,’ she says.
‘I guess.’
I get the charms out of the way, and then replace them over the wood as we close the gate behind us, muttering a few words. It makes my head throb.
‘Come on,’ says Zara. ‘Let’s get you inside.’
She takes the key from my hand, letting us both into the warm kitchen, where Nan and Peg are already entertaining. Yanny looks up from an enormous cheese sandwich with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
‘Hey.’ He waves.
‘Stella?’ Nan knows straight away there’s something amiss. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Just a headache,’ I say.
It’s already easing, I realize, as I drop my bag and throw off my coat. Zara takes it from me and hangs it with hers on the pegs by the door, and Peg puts the kettle on.
‘How was school?’ Yanny asks around a mouthful of sandwich.
‘Oh, OK,’ I say, dropping into a chair. ‘I thought you were under house arrest.’
‘Well . . . no. A bit. I said I was coming here. They weren’t exactly thrilled about it, but I think they knew they weren’t going to stop me.’
‘You can help us with our studies,’ says Zara.
Yanny looks curious, and I stare at Zara, hoping she’s not going to say much more in front of Nan.
‘Do you have homework?’ Nan asks. ‘I have heard of that.’ She looks very proud of the fact, sitting by the fire with Teacake on the arm of her chair.
‘Yes. History. We were going to do it in the study.’
‘Good idea,’ she says. ‘About time that room got used for some actual studying. Might be dusty though – you’ll need to take a cloth. There’s an old feather duster somewhere . . .’
We sit and have tea with her first, and though I can see it’s tiring for her, she’s bright with chatter, happy to tell Zara some of her stories.
Peg sees us upstairs after tea, once Nan has drifted off. He swishes the feather duster with his tail as we go, and Teacake follows behind.
‘What’s this studying all about then?’ Yanny demands once we’re in the wood-panelled room.
‘Just looking into things,’ I say, making my voice casual. ‘We have all these books; they may be useful. That’s all.’
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He nods, but he doesn’t look very happy about it. ‘Dad would love it in here,’ he says, prowling around the shelves. ‘He loves old books.’
‘So does Peg,’ I say. ‘I just thought we’d see what we can find. I want to shift this glamour spell of Nan’s, and then I’m going to go back into the forest to find the palace.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ asks Zara.
‘For most people, it would be,’ Yanny says, sitting on the bench by the window, looking out towards Winterspell. ‘Not for our Stella, though.’
‘What do you mean?’ Zara asks.
I can’t speak; my mouth is dry. He already knows. ‘Stella is the Lost Prince,’ Yanny says. ‘And she isn’t going to find her answers in any of these old books.’
‘Yanny!’
‘Well?’ he demands, his eyes glinting. ‘Tell me you aren’t the Lost Prince. Swear it.’
‘I . . . can’t.’
Zara frowns. ‘You’re what? What’s this about a Lost Prince? What have I missed now?’
‘It’s a legend,’ Yanny says. ‘He is the child of the old fae queen and the king we now call the Shadow King. The Lost Prince was taken from the forest, and will return one day – and when he returns, everything will change in there. He is a symbol of hope.’ He stares at me.
‘Nan made it up,’ I whisper, swallowing hard. ‘I mean, you’re right. I am the Shadow King’s daughter.’ I feel my skin flushing, and the acorn at my throat is warm. ‘I found my mother’s acorn, that first time I came into Winterspell with you, and since then, my magic has been growing. I think that maybe I can help, but I need to know how to get rid of this glamour Nan did so that I can fight, so that I can find the palace—’
‘You already have everything you need!’ Steam drifts from Yanny’s mouth as he speaks. ‘You’re just wasting time, Stella!’
‘That’s harsh, Yanny,’ says Zara with a hard look. ‘You don’t need to shout about it. Stella’s not responsible for everything that happened – she’s trying to help!’
‘Not quickly enough,’ he says. ‘While she’s in here all safe and cosy, trees are dying in Winterspell – and you both know what that means!’ His eyes glitter as he stares at me, and I know we’re all thinking about Thorn. About all he’s lost already. ‘You are the Lost Prince, Stella. Don’t you see that? Even if your nan made up the legend, she made it up about you. So you’re the Lost Princess, instead – who cares what the title is! You’re still the one who could make the difference.’
‘You’re right,’ I say reluctantly, remembering how I was able to get rid of the shadow last night. There’s no more time for waiting; I need to see if I can do the same in Winterspell. I need to get past the shadows to the palace. ‘I should’ve done more, sooner,’ I say, feeling wretched.
‘But what?’ Zara demands. ‘You have to have a plan before you go flouncing off in there!’ ‘No matter who she is, Lost Prince or not, she’s still just one small person, Yanny! You can’t just rush in and save everything, even if you really want to. You have to think about how – and you have to work together . . .’ she looks between us hopelessly. ‘We all have to work together, don’t we? Isn’t that what this is all about? Sticking together, no matter what? Nobody’s got it easy; everybody’s fighting. Even if it doesn’t look like it, even if everything is quiet on the surface, everyone’s got a war going on somewhere. Do we all have to shine like the moon just so that you can see when something hurts? Nobody knows what they’re doing – we’re all just trying our best. And we should be doing that together, not keeping secrets and blaming each other!’
Her eyes are bright with unspilt tears, and I don’t know what to say. What do I know of how her life has fallen apart with her parents’ separation? How have I helped her?
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Stop being flipping sorry about everything!’ she howls. ‘Just be you!’ She stares between us both, and her eyes are just as fiery – just as stormy – as I’ve ever seen in any fae.
‘So when are you going to do this saving of us all?’ Yanny asks a few moments later. ‘I suppose in the depths of night, when the shadows are at their strongest, and the moon is a crescent in the sky, and all the bells are ringing?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ growls Peg, making us all jump. ‘We’ll do it at dawn. When the centauride calls. That’s the time to do it.’
‘We?’ I ask.
‘Just you try stealing off alone,’ he says, his scales flashing as he rounds on me, eyes ablaze. ‘See where that gets you.’
Teacake jumps off the shelf and sits by him, her chest puffed, so they seem in agreement about that, if little else.
‘But I don’t want to put any of you in danger.’
‘It isn’t up to you,’ Zara says with a sweet, steely smile. ‘It isn’t only your fight. And you aren’t the only one who feels it.’
‘I didn’t mean . . .’
‘Sure you didn’t.’ Yanny sighs. ‘It’s a sprite thing. Superior – always have been. I’ll leave you to your studies – I have to get back. Some of us can’t be waiting around for their magic to just happen.’ He twiddles his fingers in a mock-mystical sort of way.
‘I’m not just waiting!’ I protest. ‘I promise—’
‘Stop reacting to him!’ Zara snaps. ‘He’s being an idiot. And so are you, frankly. You’re both too pig-headed to sort this out, and I’m not hanging around while you two carry on shouting at each other.’ She grabs her bag and bolts out before I can say anything.
Yanny stares at the place where she was. ‘Her parents rowed,’ he says, wincing as the kitchen door slams down below us.
I shake my head. ‘I should have stopped her from going . . .’
‘She probably needs some time out from all this,’ Yanny says, his eyes flashing. ‘I know I do.’
And he too turns and marches out of the door.
‘Oh, Peg,’ I say into the new silence. ‘That wasn’t very good, was it?’
Teacake gives a chirp as I sit down on the bench below the window and bounces into his usual spot in my lap.
‘It’s what happens,’ Peg says, ‘when people care about each other, and times are difficult.’
‘Should I go after them? I don’t know what to do!’
‘Let it be for tonight,’ he says. ‘And in the morning, everything will feel different – it always does. We can fix it.’
‘Can we, Peg?’ I ask, my voice wobbling. He flings over to me, perching on the windowsill and looking me right in the eye. ‘Can we really? Because I want to go in there and find that palace, and make everything better, but I seem to be doing it all wrong already!’
‘I don’t think so,’ he says slowly, still staring at me. ‘I can see adventures. All you need to work out, Stella, is whether you’re ready. If you’re ready, all the rest will fall into place.’
In the morning, it doesn’t feel like the sort of day for an adventure to happen. It feels like a staying in and reading sort of day. Cold, brittle rain splashes against the windows, and it’s so dark, I can’t even make out the silver wire fence. Nan watches silently as I force a piece of toast down my throat, and Peg whisks up a hot chocolate that burns my mouth and makes my eyes ache.
For so long, this has been us: my family, my home. And it’s safe, and warm – and out there, it’s wild and wet, and my friends are hurting, and shadows are spreading, and I know I’m going to go in there today, and I’m going to fight with all that I have to find that palace, but I still don’t have the slightest clue how to make any of it better.
It was a night of tossing and turning. My stomach tight; eyes aching from crying; all the conversations of the day rushing through my head. Teacake stayed rumbling beside me for all of it, at one point rubbing her face into mine, drying the tears. I kissed her and thanked her, mainly because it was her hunting time, and she’d stayed in for me.
She’s out there now.
They’re all out there. While I stay in here, with my hot chocolate and my wa
tchful nan.
I pick up the crockery and drop it into the sink with a clatter.
‘I’m going in now,’ I say into the silence.
‘I know I can’t stop you,’ Nan says. And if ghosts can cry, then she is, though it doesn’t show on her face. ‘But you’re still under the glamour, Stella. You haven’t got all of your power yet.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘I have some power, and that will have to be enough. My friends are in there, and they know who I am. That legend of yours about the Lost Prince is still spoken about, and even if they don’t all believe it, it still means something. It means me. I wish we’d helped sooner.’
‘I know,’ she says. ‘Honestly, Stella, if I thought we could have, then I would. They are my folk in there, as much as they are yours.’
‘And yet we left them.’
‘I died!’ she says. ‘It was my time. And then, when I returned, it was as this flimsy thing. Your mother used the last of her magic to bring me back; it was her last wish that I be here to care for you. And energy is finite, Stella. I had to make sure I’d be around for as long as you needed me. I realized that day when we were on the edge of Winterspell, and the shadows rushed around us, that I didn’t have the strength to fight them and to look after you . . . I chose you.’ She leaves her chair and comes towards me, her figure pulsing. ‘I would always, will always – I shall never regret choosing you.’
She cups her hands around my chin, and though they don’t touch me, I can feel the warmth there.
She has always been here. A bit faded, a bit tattered, sometimes downright see-through. But always, always here.
‘OK,’ I say finally, when I can find my voice again.
She moves away, settling back into her chair.
‘So, I’ll do it for the both of us.’
She smiles through the worry in her eyes. ‘Don’t lose your way,’ she says, her voice clear and firm, regal. ‘Keep to the path. Find the palace. And when you get there, keep going. Find what you need in there and break the curse – blast those shadows to smithereens. And when you’ve done that, my Stella, you’ll see Winterspell just as it always was. Just as it should be once more. Peg, find the lantern! You’ll go with her this time.’