Maddie hesitated.
“You think I would save your life just to poison you?” Maeve asked with a little smirk.
Cautiously, Maddie leaned forward and sipped. The soup was warm and smelled of onions. The sweet liquid flowed smoothly down her throat. She could have drained the whole bowl at once, but even in her disoriented state she knew that if she ate too fast she would end up having another date with the floor. So she ate patiently as Maeve fed her, spoonful by agonizing spoonful. When the bowl was empty, Maeve set it aside.
“You’ll have to forgive my bedside manner,” she said. “I don’t normally do this sort of work.”
Maddie lay back. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”
Maeve reached for her medicine cup, and leaned forward.
“Open your shirt, please,” she said. “I have to check your wound.”
Slowly, Maddie nodded and undid her nightgown.
Maeve dipped her brush and began dabbing it onto Maddie’s chest. “Explaining your situation is the queen’s prerogative,” she said. “She’ll be here shortly.”
Maddie furrowed her brow. “Queen?”
Maeve gave a quiet nod, painting Maddie’s scar with the brush..
“What is that?” Maddie said.
“It’s called a poultice. There are many varieties. Don’t worry, you won’t need it for much longer.”
Maeve put the medicine away.
“How long have I been recovering?” Maddie asked, buttoning up her nightgown.
“About three weeks. A speedy recovery, considering your circumstances.”
Maddie’s eyes went wide. “Three weeks?!”
She took a few short breaths, forcing herself to remain calm. James would have called her mother. She was going to go ballistic! And Tammy… She probably thought she was dead! Maddie’s mind raced. Three weeks? Would they even still be looking for her? They would have to be, right?
…Right?
Breathe. Just breathe, she thought as she said, “What circumstances?”
Pity crept across Maeve’s features and her eyes flicked down to Maddie’s chest and back. “Your heart was cut out,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I would have said something, but when you sicked yourself I thought you had remembered.”
Maddie felt another wave of nausea break over her. She leaned over the side of the bed. Maeve stood up and took a step back as onion broth splattered on the floor. When the heaving stopped, Maeve gingerly stepped forward and supported Maddie as she sat back up, dabbing her chin with a cloth from the tray.
“I was able to save you using a… specialized technique,” she said, picking her words carefully. “You were lucky. We weren’t sure the graft would hold.”
“Graft?” Maddie asked. “You mean like an organ donor?”
Maeve gave a little chuckle. “Of sorts. I was able to replace your heart with a knot of heartwood from our city. It’s an advanced spell, but one I’ve done before, though never on a human.”
Maddie gawked at the woman. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you wish,” Maeve said, standing up with a casual shrug. “It will work either way. You can thank me later if the mood strikes you.”
The door swung open and a little girl with short, blond curls poked her head inside.
“Miss Maeve?” she asked.
Maeve turned. “Yes?”
“Rose is on her way.”
Maeve nodded. The girl stared at Maddie for a moment before shutting the door. Maeve reached into her robes and drew out a necklace made from dark metal. A thick glass bauble hung from it, filled with a mixture of black sand and seeds. She hung it around Maddie’s neck.
“This is for you,” she said.
Maddie lifted the pendant and looked at it closely. The sand wasn’t sand. It was some kind of dried powder.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A ward,” Maeve answered, gathering her things. “It’s for your protection, so please don’t take it off. The queen will be here soon to answer your questions. Afterwards, try to get some rest.” She balanced the tray on her hip as she pulled open the door, glancing over her shoulder. “I will be back to check on you in the morning.”
Her footsteps gave a muffled echo in the corridor as she left and the door swung shut.
Maddie took a deep breath as she struggled to collect her cluttered thoughts. Fragments of explanation lay scattered through her mind like mis-matched puzzle pieces as she lay back and stared at the glowing mushroom on the wall.
Maybe when this “queen” arrived, she would finally get some answers.
Night and Day
Maddie was drifting off to sleep again when the door opened and the queen entered the room. She was tall, with dark hair and tanned skin, and she was strikingly beautiful. There was something imperial about the way she walked that made her look imposing, but her eyes shone with the brightness of the morning and her smile was like a warm summer breeze. She wore a long, deep red dress with a tall bodice embroidered with intricate vines of black and gold thread. The metal caught the light and shimmered as she passed before the lattice of the balcony door. A delicate wooden circlet rested humbly on her brow.
Attending her was the same young girl Maddie had glimpsed earlier. From her round, sunny face, Maddie guessed she was about eight. Short, blond curls bounced with her every step, and green ribbons fluttered behind her dress.
The queen sat down at the foot of the bed. The girl arranged the woman’s dress and left quietly, sneaking a backward glance at Maddie, who was slowly realizing that she was the only human in the room.
Maddie regarded the woman warily.
“You’re the queen?” she asked.
The woman leaned back, resting against against her arms, and casting off her royal posture with an abruptness that made Maddie want to giggle.
She said, “My name is Rose, and you don’t have to call me your highness. I’ve never been wedded to formality, and after everything you’ve been through, I’m hoping you can think of me as a friend. You must have a lot of questions. I’d like to answer them if I can.”
Maddie took a moment to frame her thoughts. There was no reason to believe that these people meant her any harm. In fact, their attitudes and actions so far suggested the opposite. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d been attacked in the woods, and had undergone surgery, and that so far the only explanations she’d been given were absolutely preposterous.
“Where am I?” she said.
“You are in Amaranth,” Rose answered. “The Veil-city of Chicago.”
“Veil-city?”
Rose stood up and asked, “Can you make it to the balcony?”
Looking down, Maddie realized Maeve hadn’t said anything about moving. Maddie felt a twinge of pain throb in her chest as the queen gently lifted her out of bed. but it was dull and tolerable.
Rose steadied her as Maddie limped across the room. The queen pulled open the latticework, and the sight took Maddie’s breath away.
She was in a tree. A huge tree. The balcony protruded from a thick limb in the upper branches. An extravagant structure, carved into the trunk, extended up above her head. Its contours hugged the tree, hanging from the bark like clusters of Victorian bee hives. Below, a network of thick limbs and leafy foliage filled the sprawling canopy.
A whole city had been built on the branches, linked to the forest floor by a pair of spiraling ramps that ran up and down the trunk, each one the size of a two-lane road. Long streets and narrow alleyways ran along the branches alongside buildings fashioned from leaves, sticks, and mud. From them, bright colors flew into the air in the form of awnings and canvas shades. The vibrant flashes caught the light of the sun as it fell through the leaves.
And there were people! From her perch, Maddie saw thousands of them going about their lives: walking, running, trading, and playing. There were no railings, but the people didn’t seem to mind. They strolled across bridges stretching from branch to b
ranch—with nothing to protect them but open air—like it was the most natural thing in the world. An array of cable-cars hanging from heavy cables joined the city to the palace high above.
“What is this place?” Maddie asked.
Rose led her to two chairs teetering on the edge of the miniature overlook and sat across from her.
“This is the Veil,” she said. “It is the name my people give to our world, and to the barrier that separates it from yours.”
“Your world?”
The queen’s eyes looked down on the teeming city. “My people are the faerie. Millions of us live in communities just like this one. We call them Veil-cities. They are forests, of a sort. They grow where humans have built cities of their own.”
Maddie’s chest tightened, twinging beneath her skin. She winced.
“How did I get here?” she said.
“We don’t know,” Rose answered. “Insects and birds pass through the Veil all the time, but for humans and higher animals to wander across is extremely rare. I have my staff looking into it. For now, I want to stress that you are safe, and I will take care of you for as long as you are here.”
Maddie paused as the big question reared its ugly head. “And how long will that be?”
The queen’s face fell.
“Your body has healed,” she said. “But yours was not an ordinary injury.”
Maddie felt a lump forming in her throat.
“I know it must sound impossible,” Rose said, laying a hand on Maddie’s thigh, “but at this moment, a knot of the city-tree’s youngest wood beats inside your chest. Only the magic of the Veil sustains it. If you were to go home… you would die.”
Maddie’s heart sank and she took a long, slow breath. Whether it was wood or not, the hurt felt real enough.
“Who attacked me?” she asked.
The queen stiffened. “An enemy of my people. She is called Gwynedd, queen of the Erlkin.”
“The Erlkin?”
“Another race of fair folk, similar to us but not nearly as populous. They once lived in beautiful cities deep within the layers of the Veil, in a place where the forest is filled with moonlight and stars. Their art and culture enchanted the soul, but under Gwynedd’s poisonous leadership, decades of neglect and endless conflict have eroded their society. Now they live at the surface of the Veil in the sewers beneath Chicago, surviving off the scraps of mankind.”
“I don’t understand,” Maddie said. “Who was the man that was with her? And what did they want with my heart?”
“The man with Gwynedd was Morrow, crown prince of the Erlkin and the source of her political power. Long ago, Gwynedd used forbidden magic to save his life. Since then, he has been bound to her dark will, and his family and people with him. When his mother passed, Gwynedd seized control of his kingdom.”
“And my heart?”
The queen hesitated. “I’m afraid we can only guess at the witch’s intentions.”
“You mean you don’t know.”
“You have to understand,” the queen said. “On this side of the Veil, the spirit and the body are one. Our souls are intermingled with our physical forms. The substance of who we are runs through our veins like living water. We call them the humours, and the heart contains the greatest portion. With your heart, Gwynedd can perform all manner of terrible works. Had my wardens not interrupted her, she might have cast a spell to steal your life to extend hers, curse you with disease or disability, or even control your mind.”
“And what’s stopping her from doing that now?”
The queen gestured towards the necklace resting against Maddie’s chest. “The ward you now wear will keep you safe, shielding you from Gwynedd’s eyes and ears, as well as her magic, so long as she does not come near. You must always wear it. For obvious reasons, the less she knows about you and your whereabouts, the better.”
“And who are the wardens?” said Maddie.
“Soldiers of mine,” Rose answered. “They watch over the forest. You were fortunate that they found you and were able to drive Gwynedd away. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you were very lucky. It is a shame they weren’t able to recover your heart at the same time.”
Maddie hung her head. “But why me?”
The queen sighed. “I wish I knew the answer. Humans are rare in the Veil. Perhaps she thought you were special or had some kind of experiment in mind, but until we find out what her motives were, I want you to stay here in the city-tree, where we know it’s safe. My staff will see to your needs.” She paused. “You’re not a prisoner here, Maddie. If you believe nothing else I’ve told you, please believe that.”
Maddie slumped in her chair.
“I guess I should be grateful,” she said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Rose placed a hand on her shoulder squeezed. For a moment they sat in silence. Maddie stared out at the city. The buildings, painted in browns and greens and speckled with sunlight, shook gently in the breeze. It was like standing in the middle of a giant’s garden, splashed with flashes of yellow, pink, and white. As she watched the people below, a sparrow the size of a mid-sized van zoomed by. There was a woman in a saddle strapped to its back. Maddie watched in awe before a disturbing thought wormed its way into her mind.
“Rose…?”
The queen watched the bird fly up through a gap in the treetops. “Yes?”
“How tall am I right now?”
The queen laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re the same size, but you’ll find that quite a few things are different here.”
Maddie leaned onto her elbows as a wave of dizziness swept over her, and she swayed in her chair. Rose held her arm and took her back to bed.
“It’s not so bad. I promise,” the queen said. “Amaranth is a beautiful city, and our people are kind. You’ll enjoy your time here once you’re up and about. I’m sure of it.”
Maddie lay back against the headboard, and Rose turned to leave.
“If we can get my heart back,” Maddie said, “will I be able to go home?”
Rose didn’t answer right away. She only frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Maddie’s heart sank.
“Thank you again for all your help,” she said.
The queen bowed and left. Maddie lay alone, staring out the balcony door at the sunlit shadows of the otherworldly city.
Sitting up, she put her head in her hands, and cried.
Old Magic
All power came at a price, and for the oldest and most powerful sorceries, there was only one currency. More than a dozen prisoners had been bled dry to fill Gwynedd’s reflecting pool, the latest of countless others before them. Morrow stared down into its cloudy depths, a grim frown fixed upon his face as red light filtered out into the room, painting the walls with flickering shadows of the dead.
Gwynedd leaned on the edge of the pool, eyes fixed open. She’d been at it for weeks, barely stopping to eat or drink. Her frail features quaked with the weight of her fatigue.
“They’ll never let her leave the city, you know,” Morrow said.
His mistress’s arms buckled, and her shoulders drooped. She caught herself and straightened as she took a breath. “We’ll see.”
The liquid shifted over a murky image of corridors and people. Their indistinct forms were impossible to identify.
Morrow said, “Well, right now, it doesn’t look like you’re seeing much of anything.”
Gwynedd’s eyes flicked up, and he flinched. The wards around the faerie city had always been difficult to penetrate, and they seemed to have equipped the human woman with a double measure of protection. They knew his mistress would be watching.
“We would already have her if it weren’t for your incompetence,” she said.
Morrow curled up his nose and scowled. “What incompetence? You were the one who refused to bring soldiers. If we hadn’t been alone, maybe we could have made a fight of it.” He leaned down. “Perhaps then you wouldn’t ha
ve been denied your prize.”
Gwynedd ignored his answer and kept her eyes on the pool. Morrow glanced at the jar hanging on her hip. The human woman’s heart was inside, still beating. A bubble rose to the surface of the pool and burst. The image cleared, offering them a fleeting glimpse of their victim. She was in bed, weeping.
Morrow clenched his fists.
“Why do you need still need her?” he asked. “You have her heart. Isn’t that enough?”
Gwynedd’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “She is very special. That is all you need to know.”
“That’s not good enough. I can’t help you if you keep me in the dark. Tell me, what makes her so important?”
His mistress looked up. “Do not press me, little prince. This girl is not as she appears. She is the Foxglove, and I must have her.”
The image clouded over again and Morrow knelt down. “What will you do now?” he said, his eyes scanning the thick liquid.
His mistress’s lips settled into a smooth, thin line. “We will wait. Sooner or later the fear will fade, and a weakness will expose itself.”
“I doubt that,” Morrow said. “Amaranth’s neighbors already envy its position and wealth. If it had a weakness, it would have been exploited long ago.”
Gwynedd laughed softly.
“I’m not talking about the city,” she said.
The image cleared a second time, and Morrow glanced down. The girl still wept.
He looked to his mistress. “What is the Foxglove?” he asked.
Gwynedd’s eyes returned to the pool, glimmering with anticipation.
“A weapon.”
A Change of Heart
Maddie kept telling herself that recovery took time, but as the days wore on and her grip on hope grew weaker, she learned it took much more than the quiet comfort of a warm bedroom and hot soup.
Don’t cry, she thought over and over. Not anymore.
Crying only made her angry, but whenever she held it in, she ended up screaming into her pillow and clenching her hands until her fingers were too week to make a fist. When she wasn’t doing that, she lay on her back and counted the rings in the wood of her ceiling.
Foxglove Page 3