To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  “Matilda, think of what you’re saying. The political situation is tenuous at best. It’s not only your old family but your new one as well.”

  “If you mean Max, he’s fine,” I said.

  “I mean your sister.”

  I laughed. “I can take care of Iris. It’s what I do.”

  “I mean your other sister, Queen Marie Henriette. Her children are your nieces and nephews. The king is your brother-in-law.”

  Just what I need. More family to worry about.

  I leaned on Volotora’s trough and breathed in the heady scent of good wine. “I never thought of it like that.”

  “I know you haven’t, but they are your family and the threat of the empress declaring war on France might not hold them back forever.”

  “You think they’d kill the children?” I asked.

  “Paris is unpredictable. You know that better than I,” he said before taking another long drink.

  I straightened up and smoothed the beautiful dress that the empress had given me. “That settles it. I’m going.”

  Volotora jerked his muzzle out of the trough. “What?”

  “We can’t afford to worry about protocol. The banns don’t mean anything. They’re just information. I don’t care who knows about the betrothal. I have to get the pope on our side. Now.”

  “Hasn’t the empress already sent a personal letter to Pope Joyous about your family?”

  “Yeah. He knows all about my fire and the rest of it, but he hasn’t replied. Max says a plea in person is our best shot.”

  Max was sure that Iris being a cardinal combined with my new royal status would get the fairy pope to intervene in the revolution in France, freeing our parents and his sister. Pope Joyous was known to be in favor of equal rights for all fae, winged and unwinged, and the French revered him. He could persuade the French king to sign whatever he had to sign to end the bloodshed that had been going on for forever and a day. It was about time.

  “The empress will decide how to proceed” said the damumoto.

  I crossed my arms. “I’m going, whether the empress thinks it’s time or not.”

  “Matilda, the empress knows what’s best,” said the damumoto.

  “Ya think? I’ve been to Paris. I saw them hang effigies of the royal children at Notre Dame.” I popped myself in the forehead. “Of course, they’ll kill the kids. They have to seize full control over France. If they don’t, the Bourbons will just keep coming back.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. They’re not afraid of the empress. They’re waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “For her to die. Everyone’s been thinking she’ll die at any moment and for Max to take over.”

  Volotora stamped his hooves. Shimmering glitter poofed out and rolled over the stall floor like fog. “He’s not weak.”

  “But that’s what everyone thinks. They’re biding their time.”

  “She’s much better now that you’re treating her. They’re going to be waiting a while.” What passed for a smile came over Volotora’s muzzle.

  “I don’t think so.” I started thinking of what to pack and how quickly I could get to Rome. The dragons weren’t fast enough. I needed human transport.

  “They will have to wait. She’s better,” he said.

  “Don’t you see? When they figure out that the empress isn’t dying any time soon, they’ll just kill the royal family and get it over with. If it’s not going to be easy, it may as well be quick. I’ve got to go before they figure it out.”

  “Please be calm. That could take a while,” said Volotora.

  “The empress was out in front of everyone yesterday, looking better than she has in years. You think that’s not going to get out?”

  “I suppose it will, but surely not that soon.”

  “Do you really want to wait and see?” I asked.

  There was a little tap on my shoulder. I turned and saw Gerald standing behind me. “Wait for what?” he asked.

  “Um…nothing,” I said quickly.

  “Is it about…Mom and Dad?”

  I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Gerald had taken to calling my parents Mom and Dad. It was a little disturbing. I wanted to correct him and say that he had parents, parents who died to protect him and he shouldn’t act like they never existed, but I didn’t. Nanny had talked me out of it. She said it was Gerald’s grieving process and I had to let it run its course. Still, it was weird and made me feel sort of territorial. I don’t know why. I didn’t really care if he adopted my parents. They were a pain in my wings most of the time.

  “Matilda?” Gerald touched my sleeve.

  “No, it’s not about Mom and Dad or any of our family. I just want to get to Rome.”

  He flushed. “The emperor said that’s not for a couple of weeks. Maybe longer.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said and I even sounded certain—to myself, anyway. “Were you looking for me?”

  “There’s a message from the palace. You have to go see the empress at once,” said Gerald, puffing out his thin chest. He handed me my smelly, old servants’ cloak that I’d intended to burn. “Wear this one. It’s less noticeable.”

  My stomach went into a double knot. “Did something happen?”

  “It must’ve. You have to sneak over. Percy can take us, since your wing is still healing.” He said it with disapproval, but it wasn’t like I could help it. After the battle of the cathedral, I got an infection in the wing that the sea serpent slashed. I’d cured it, but I still couldn’t fly. Our dragons, Percy and Penelope, had been toting me around. It was getting old.

  “The message said for me to sneak over? That doesn’t sound like the empress or Max, for that matter.”

  Since I’d agreed to the betrothal, they’d insisted I travel by imperial coach with footmen and everything. I was supposed to move into the palace, but I’d drawn the line there.We’d only moved into the pulpit so I could be close to the cardinal, if he needed me.

  “That’s what it said. We better hurry. It could be about Mom and Dad,” said Gerald, flushing hard.

  “We? There’s no we. You need to study for your entrance exam for Sisi’s school,” I said. “I’ll go to the palace.”

  “I aced the pretest. You’re the one who needs to study and you skipped your last two tutoring sessions.”

  “Once and for all, you’re not tutoring me. I don’t need any tutoring,” I said, taking off my nice cloak and flipping the tattered old one over my shoulders.

  Gerald put his pointed little nose in the air. “Toratessi said I’m a genius and that I should tutor you until she comes back from sitting on her egg.”

  “Never gonna happen. I’m not being tutored by a nine-year-old.” I twisted my long, black hair in a braid and tucked it into my cloak. “I wonder where Percy is.”

  Gerald stomped in front of me. “It doesn’t matter how old you are, if you’re a genius.”

  “I’ll believe Toratessi said that when I hear it myself,” I said, trying to skirt around the little know-it-all.

  He got back in front of me. “But you can’t hear and I am a genius. I am. I am.”

  “Then how come your shoes don’t match?” I asked.

  Gerald looked down and reddened. He had one brown shoe and one black one. “That kind of thing doesn’t matter to a superior intellect.”

  “You better hope matching isn’t on the entrance exam.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He wrinkled his nose and scowled.

  “Alright then. I’m going to the palace and you’re going to learn your colors.” I went for the stable door and Volotora lashed me with his tail.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Percy’s outside the window,” he said.

  I glanced at the closed and bolted shutters. “How do you know?”

  “He’s cackling. I suspect he’s peed on a tourist.”

  “Moroccan spice dragons don’t do that,” I said
.

  “Well…” said Gerald.

  “Well, what?”

  “Ovid taught them and they taught him that rat poison is tasty.”

  “That explains the gas.” I threw open the shutters. “What are you doing?” I yelled.

  Percy’s head jerked up and he missed a bald man’s head by a foot. He swerved and flapped over to land on the stone railing opposite the window.

  “Percy, that’s disgusting. Stop it!” I yelled.

  The red dragon tucked his head under his wing.

  “Don’t give me that. You’re not ashamed, but you should be. Why are you listening to Ovid? He’s a Celtic Stoorworm.”

  Ovid swooped in and landed heavily next to Percy and began waggling his head back and forth, hissing and spouting fire out of his big nostrils.

  “Knock it off. You know you’re bad,” I said while tying my cloak strings.

  Ovid stopped and Victory, our newly hatched phalanx, climbed up to stand on his head and glare at me. All phalanx are sticky, but Victory was exceptionally so. I’d seen him stick to Percy’s tail while he was doing barrel rolls in the nave.

  “Are you insulting my troops, Aunt?” asked Victory. A grimace revealed the bright white teeth in his pitch black face and he shook his tiny fist.

  Before I could answer, Gerald squeezed in beside me. “That’s Your Highness to you, pipsqueak.”

  “You can call me pipsqueak when you can say it in Latin.” He stalked down Ovid’s head to stand on his broad green nose.

  “I can speak Latin,” said Gerald.

  “My aunt recognizes my superiority.”

  Gerald looked at me.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about.” I pulled my hood up and climbed onto the sill. “Percy, can you give me a ride?”

  “A ride?” Victory hopped up and down on Ovid’s snout. “What is the mission? I will lead it.”

  Gerald crawled out the window ahead of me, yelling something if I went by his heaving sides.

  “I’m the general. I will command the mission,” said Victory, and I jumped off the sill back into Volotora’s stall. “Can you give me a ride?”

  “I can’t hide you like the dragons can,” he said.

  “They make me tired. Why are the boys always fighting? Iris and I don’t fight.”

  “Iris is love and you have a great need of her.”

  “And her ears,” I said sadly. When Iris became cardinal, she wouldn’t be my ears anymore. What would I do without Iris?

  Gerald stuck his head in the window. “Let’s go. We agreed that I’m in charge.”

  Victory bounded onto the sill. “I will it!”

  “You will that Gerald’s in charge?” I asked.

  “Iocularius!” Victory eyed Gerald. “That’s ludicrous for the uneducated.”

  Gerald snatched Victory up, screeched, and tumbled off the sill and out of sight. I leapt to the window and leaned out to see Gerald rolling around, howling in pain. Victory watched him with his hands on his waist.

  “What did you do?”

  The tiny phalanx pointed to the wickedly sharp edge of his shell. Gerald glared at Victory. “He did it on purpose.”

  “Why’d you grab him?” I asked, climbing out the window. “You know how sharp his shell is.”

  Gerald held up his hand, dripping with blood. I concentrated, pictured the vessels, and stopped the flow. I couldn’t stop the pain. That wasn’t my gift. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket—embroidered with my initials and new royal symbol—and wrapped it around Gerald’s hand.

  “I need Nanny,” he said with his lower lip poking out.

  “Yes,” agreed Victory. “Take him to the child minder and I will lead the charge.”

  I sighed. “There’s no charge and you’re barely out of the egg.”

  “And see how powerful I am already? Mother says I was hatched to lead,” said Victory as he began pacing on the railing. “If only my most-trusted troop was available. I would lead him to victory.”

  I decided to ignore that and heaved Gerald to his feet. Bentha was a ponderosa dryad and Victory’s most-trusted troop, even though he could barely move. Only a couple of weeks before, Bentha had been mostly dead. Now, all three of his hearts were beating, but his recovery was slow-going. Victory thought they had some sort of warrior connection, but since Bentha was still practically comatose, I didn’t see how.

  “Iris created a monster,” I said.

  “I am Victory!” The little nut job did a fist pump.

  “I know. I know,” I said. “You can go to the palace with me, but this is a stealth mission. Nobody can know we’re there.”

  Victory crouched and sort of waved back and forth while eyeing the slim ledge like some enemy might jump out from nowhere. “I will do it. I am Victory!” Then he leapt back onto Ovid’s snout, ran over his head, and secreted himself between two of the dragon’s horns to become just a dark spot.

  “You’re going to have to do something about him,” said Gerald. “He’s not right.”

  “I know.” I looked at Percy. “Can you carry us in your claws?”

  Percy snorted a great show of fire that I took for a yes and took off to hover. Then he plucked Gerald up first and me second. Then he tucked us up under his belly and soared away over the Stephenplatz. The area had become a haven for dragons once the cardinal declared his gratitude to them after the Battle of the Cathedral. Now, they were allowed inside as long as they didn’t wee or steal. They were pretty good about the weeing. Stealing still needed some work.

  Percy blended right in with a cluster of Celtic Stoorworms that Ovid knew and nobody looked twice at Percy’s belly. I pulled my hood tight around my face. Do something about Victory. I already had, but no one knew except Max and his seer. Some humans could see fairies, but it was extremely rare. Seers were very helpful. Through Max’s seer, I had sent word to Victory’s father, Kukri, back in the antique mall. I didn’t know if The Commander had gotten my message that his egg had hatched and that I needed help immediately. I didn’t say exactly what was going on. How do you tell a father that his newly-hatched baby could speak twenty languages, including Chinese and anubis, and showed every sign of intending to take over the entire world?

  Chapter Two

  SNOW STARTED FALLING just as we reached Hofburg palace. I couldn’t see where we were going since the curve of Percy’s belly blocked the view. I pounded on his thick hide and he ignored me, as usual. Iris, he would’ve listened to. Me? Forget it.

  The dragon glided over the Michaelerplatz and took a sharp turn to the left, picking up speed before a right turn to hover. I looked over at Gerald in his claw and he seemed half asleep. “Hey!”

  His eyes popped open. “Huh?”

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  Gerald concentrated. His ears weren’t as good as Iris’s, but he heard remarkably well. “The anubis are guarding the entrance and they don’t like dragons.”

  I pounded on Percy’s belly again. “Show me to the anubis.”

  Percy spun upright in his hover and thrust me at a trio of startled anubis, wearing their usual loincloths, their black skin bare, despite the chill. I lifted my hood and said, “Let us in.”

  Their dog jaws dropped, but they didn’t move out of the way.

  “Er…by command of the…um…princess royal, move,” I said.

  The anubis snarled, but they snapped their jaws shut, concealing their super-pointy canine teeth and moved aside. Percy flew into the stable. He dropped us without ceremony and then landed on a bed of fresh alfalfa to curl up and snort. Ovid landed beside us and began strutting around, blowing smoke and being a general nuisance. Victory waited until Ovid’s girth blocked the view of the anubis before leaping to my shoulder and hiding in my hood.

  The anubis formed up in front of me and I tried to remember what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to speak first or were they? Did I curtsy before they bowed or after? The weird Egyptian fairies stood in front of me like statues. The onl
y thing that moved on them were their ears, all pointy and tall. Victory tapped like crazy on my neck, using his beloved Morris Code. It was so distracting.

  Gerald elbowed me. “They can’t speak until you talk to them.”

  “How come you don’t follow that rule?” I asked.

  He wrinkled his nose. “I’m special.”

  “You’re special alright.” I looked back at the anubis and the wicked part of me enjoyed making them wait. Miss Penrose, our former teacher, would’ve been disappointed that I even felt a hint of pleasure, so I quickly said, “The empress summoned me. Can you tell me where she is?”

  “Your Royal Highness, the empress awaits you in her boudoir,” said the middle anubis.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone that I was here.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  I took Gerald’s hand and we dashed out of the stable and into a wide, human-sized corridor. It seemed like we needed to go right, but I wasn’t sure. The last time I was in the stables was a blur since I was being chased by a mob of crazed Austrians that believed the empress was dead and thought freaking out would somehow help the situation.

  Gerald poked me and pointed right. Yeah. I got it right. We started down the corridor, walking because it was still so painful for me to fly while my wing was healing. We stayed close to the baseboard and avoided the ginormous human feet stomping past us. I spotted an entrance to a servants’ hall. The human servants in the palace had used halls inside the walls so they could move about without being seen. Why would they want to pretend not to have servants? It seemed weird to me, but the fairy servants used the same halls.

  “I’m going to have to fly,” I said, wincing in anticipation.

  “Maybe there’s a damumoto around.” Gerald darted up to get a better view.

  I tugged on his foot to bring him back down. “Never mind. I don’t want to wait.” I closed my eyes and said, “Renodo non illuminata.” A sizzle zipped through my wings and I threw back my cloak. The Whipplethorn glow that marked my wings as special disappeared with the spell. They were now a dull purple and green, not special at all. I spread them slowly and tugged my hood lower over my face.