“Well, well,” Councilor Ashlow says. “The Unseelies have decided to show their faces.”
“And why wouldn’t we?” A man says, walking forward. I sense a change in the atmosphere—something I can’t quite explain—and I wonder if that’s how the Councilor knows these faeries are with the Unseelie Court. “A particularly interesting Griffin Ability has come to light,” he continues. “We thought we should take a closer look.”
“No need. We have everything under control.”
“Of course you do. You probably plan to hand this girl over to the Seelie Court to be used as their own personal weapon.”
Councilor Ashlow smiles. “What we plan to do with her is none of your business.”
“It is our business when she could turn out to be one of the most powerful weapons in existence. What’s to stop you from using her against us?”
“I suppose you’ll have to trust that we like to keep the laws we make, unlike the members of your court.”
“Trust?” He laughs. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, at the risk of sounding petty,” Councilor Ashlow says, “we found her first. So we certainly won’t be handing her over to you.”
“Of course not. And I suppose you wouldn’t like it if we took her from you by force.”
“You could try, but I doubt you’d be successful.”
The man’s expression becomes thoughtful. “Since we can’t come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, perhaps neither of us should possess this weapon. Perhaps she should be killed.”
Perhaps WHAT? My heart rate kicks up notch.
“The only way we’ll be killing her,” Councilor Ashlow says, “is if you get your dirty talons on her.” She looks around at her guardians, lowering her voice as she adds, “Don’t let that happen. If it does—if it looks like they might get away with her—you have my permission to kill the girl.”
“What?” I gasp, finally finding my voice. “That can’t be legal.”
“Yes, Councilor,” Dash says, along with his fellow guardians.
I tug and twist and try to face him. “Are you kidding me? Are you really such a monster?”
Dash doesn’t move, but his eyes dart around the clearing, between the trees and up to the canopy tops. “Sometimes,” he mutters as the Unseelies advance on us, “we have to be monsters to protect the rest of the world.” He tugs me backward as his companions spring forward.
Shouts and grunts and the clash of blades soon fill the air, along with a confusing mix of sparks, wind, glass shards and cackling birds. I wriggle and kick and yell, “Get away from me!” But it doesn’t work this time. I try to focus on the core of magic deep inside me, just as Azzy instructed, but it makes not difference. Dash’s hands remain firmly attached to me.
Two of the Unseelie faeries break through the line of guardians and come racing for us. “Stop them!” Dash yells, backing further away toward the edge of the cliff. One is tackled to the ground. The other launches forward. Dash spins me out of the way. “I’m sorry about this,” he says. And then he shoves me clear off the edge of the cliff.
Thirteen
I barely hear my scream as I plummet toward my death. Foamy water and jagged rocks rise rapidly to meet me. Faster, faster, faster—
Then my body decelerates abruptly and a dark shadow swoops below me as I come almost, almost, almost to a halt. Then I’m tumbling out of the air and into a pair of strong arms, and someone’s saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I land clumsily on the back of a creature with wings and find myself sandwiched between it and whoever it was that caught me. An arm wraps around my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut and cling more tightly to that arm than anything I’ve ever held onto. I don’t care who or what it is. I don’t care if it’s an Unseelie faerie or a guardian who wants to lock me up or some kind of new being I’ve never met. My brain cares about only one fact right now: I’m not falling anymore.
We begin moving upward. It’s a jerky, flapping motion, but at least it’s up and not down. I don’t open my eyes. I don’t want to see anything. Up and up, sideways, and up some more, and all the while I silently repeat, Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go. Then we plummet downward, and an involuntary gasp escapes me. But it’s over, and we’re landing amongst the trees, and that strong pair of arms is pulling me off the winged creature. “She’s fine,” he says to someone as he deposits me on the ground. “We were almost too late, but she’s fine.”
My legs are shaking so badly they can’t hold me up. I land on my butt, blinking and gasping and taking in the people around me in disjointed snapshot moments. Three faeries. Blink. A man, dark blue, bending closer to me with concern on his face. Blink. A woman, purple, saying something I can’t hear. Blink. Another woman, watching something through the trees, hair of actual gold sliding over her shoulder. Dark tattoos weave across her arms and reach up the side of her neck.
“Emerson? Emerson!” I refocus on the woman who’s now crouching beside me. The one with wide eyes of vibrant purple who somehow knows my name. “Can you hear me?”
I try to speak, but words won’t seem to come out of my mouth. Every time I blink, I see water, rocks and death rushing full-speed toward me.
“You’re safe now,” she says, her hand reaching toward me. I jerk away, my body still shaking uncontrollably. ‘Safe’ doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. Her companion may have saved my life, but didn’t Dash save my life too? And a day later he tried to kill me.
“Vi, they’re coming this way,” the golden haired one says. “No time to get the gargoyle back into the paths. Can you keep Emerson quiet while they pass?”
The woman in front of me nods. “Emerson,” she says, leaning a tiny bit closer, but not attempting to touch me again. “We’re all going to turn invisible now. It’s nothing to freak out about. Just an illusion to hide us while the guardians pass. But we need to keep quiet, okay? Completely quiet.”
I nod jerkily, despite the fact that her warning isn’t necessary. Even if my brain was capable of manufacturing words right now, I wouldn’t make a sound while anyone from the Guild runs by. Not after they so readily tried to dispose of me. A moment later, all three faeries vanish. I look down—and manage to hold back my squeak of terror when I find that my body is gone. I know she said ‘invisible,’ but I didn’t realize I wouldn’t be able to see myself either. I thought … I don’t know what I thought.
At the sound of hurried footsteps, I look up. I almost scramble backward when I see the guardians running straight for us, but they swerve and continue running past. “… might not have been this way,” Councilor Ashlow is saying to the rest of her guardians, “but we have to check. Especially if the rest of the team can’t find her body. And find out who that cloaked person was. It didn’t look like he or she was with the Unseelies.”
We wait in silence for at least a minute after the guardians pass. Then: “I think that’s fine, Calla,” the guy who caught me says. The three of them reappear. When I look down, I’m relieved to see my own body once more. I’m not shaking as much as when we first landed, so I push myself up onto my feet. I still feel weak in the wake of more adrenaline than my body’s ever produced in one go, but at least I can stand now.
“Sorry about the dramatic rescue,” the man says, reaching over and patting the leathery winged creature I haven’t looked at properly until now. Ridged horns curve out of its head, and fangs protrude from its wide mouth. “We ran out of time to get a better plan in place. Vi, can you open a doorway? We should get going.”
“I—I’m not—um—” I cut myself off when it becomes clear I can’t utter more than a few stammering words. I hate sounding so weak and confused. It isn’t me. I’m stronger than this, dammit, but everyone has a limit to what they can endure without completely breaking down, and I think I’m fast approaching mine. I swallow and breathe in deeply before trying again. “I’m not … I’m going anywhere with you. Thank you for saving me, but I don’t know who you are.”
�
��Right, sorry,” the man says. “I’m Ryn, and this is Violet.” He gestures to the woman with the dark purple hair. With a nod toward the tattooed, golden haired woman, he adds, “And that’s Calla.”
“You can trust us,” Violet says. “We know everyone’s been after you since you arrived in this world, and we can keep you safe.”
I press my hands over my eyes and suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t trust you,” I whisper, finding myself dangerously close to tears. “I don’t trust anyone. Everybody wants to lock me up or kill me.”
“Emerson.” I lower my hands and find Violet right in front of me, staring intently into my eyes. “You can trust us. You know why? Because we’re exactly like you.”
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“We’re all Griffin Gifted.”
Fourteen
“Crap.” I stumble backward in my haste to put some distance between me and these faeries. “You guys are part of that Griffin rebel movement, aren’t you.”
“Yes.” Confusion crosses Violet’s face. “Which is a good thing. It means we’re on your side.”
“But … you’re the bad guys.”
“Uh, no we’re not,” Calla says.
“That’s what the Guild—what everyone in this world—says.”
“Of course that’s what the Guild says. They don’t trust us. They want to track our every move or lock us up so we can’t use our ‘dangerous’ magic without supervision. They just tried to do the same thing to you.”
I hesitate, because she’s right, of course. “They … they said you attack people.”
Ryn’s expression darkens. “Is that what they’re telling people now?”
“They’ll twist any story to their advantage,” Violet says. “They want people to be afraid of us.”
Calla’s head whips around. “Guys, I think they’re coming back this way.”
“On it,” Ryn says, already raising a stylus and scribbling invisible words in the air.
“Are you coming?” Violet asks. “Please, you can trust us.”
I swallow. Perhaps this is all a lie and I’m being tricked yet again, but I don’t exactly have anyone else to turn to. “Can you help me?” I ask. “With … everything?”
She takes my hand and squeezes it. “That’s what we do.”
Hot air dances across my skin as the darkness of the faerie paths evaporates around us. My feet sink into soft sand. I turn slowly on the spot, squinting against the harsh light as my eyes take in the same scenery on all sides: rolling sand dunes that go on and on, seemingly forever. “You guys live in a desert?”
Calla smiles. “Yep. You wouldn’t think to look for us out here, would you?”
“I guess not,” I say, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself. My thoughts of how unpleasant it must be to live amidst all this sand and heat.
“This way,” Ryn says, nodding to his right and leading the gargoyle by its reins. I have no idea how he knows which direction to go in since every sand dune looks the same to me. We’ve barely taken a few steps, though, when the faint outline of something dome-shaped comes into view. I blink a few times, but the outline only grows stronger. I’m afraid to ask if I’m imagining things, so I keep my mouth shut. But a minute or so later when the dome is right in front of us and I can make out the hazy shapes of trees and buildings within, I figure it must be real.
“This,” Violet says, “is our oasis. An enchanted piece of land beneath a dome of magic. And once you’ve passed through the dome layer—” she takes my hand and pulls me through after her “—you now have a spell placed upon you that means you can never speak about this place. Even if you’re questioned under the influence of truth potion, you won’t be able to say a thing. Which means everyone here will always be safe.”
The air is immediately cooler, and the fresh scent of plants fills my nostrils. I’m aware of a small smile on my lips as I slowly look around. Grass and bushes and streams, fountains and flowers and a few small buildings, plus a number of enormous trees with houses built into the upper branches. “Actual tree houses,” I murmur. “Not the glamoured type I learned about this morning.”
“Yes,” Violet says. “I lived on Kaleidos for a little while, and they have tree houses like these. I really liked them, so I suggested we do the same thing here.”
“And we spent years before this living in glamoured trees or Underground or inside mountains,” Calla adds, “so when the Guild forced us to run and we had to make a new home somewhere, we decided we didn’t want to live in concealed houses anymore. The outer dome keeps us hidden, so our actual houses don’t have to be hidden.”
“It’s really cool.” I push away the thought that if I could just get Mom safely into the magic world, she and I could happily live here for the rest of our lives. She’d love the gardens, the fountains, the flowers. But I don’t know if that’s possible, so I’ll leave my dreams for another day. Another time, when I’ve figured out if I can really trust these people. “What do you guys do here?” I ask, watching Ryn hand the gargoyle reins to a bald man with eyes that don’t look normal.
“We rescue Griffin Gifted and hide them from the Guild,” he says, turning back to me. “We also help people in other ways. Basically, we do what the Guild does, but on a smaller scale.”
“It’s also non-official and illegal,” Calla says. “So, you know, that’s another reason the Guild doesn’t like us.”
“Oops,” says a small voice behind us. We all turn, and there stands the boy who appeared in the forest before Dash dragged me out to the edge of the cliff. “I was hoping I’d get home before you.”
After a pause filled with shocked silence, Violet walks forward, takes hold of the boy’s shoulders, and makes sure her face is right in front of his before asking, “Where have you been?”
“Um …”
“Did you leave the oasis?”
He blinks. “Maybe. I just … wanted to help with the rescue mission.”
“Jack Linden Larkenwood,” she says, “you’re grounded.” She straightens and lets go of him. “For the next decade.”
“What?”
“For the next century.”
“Mom!” Jack lets out a dramatic groan and turns to Ryn. “Da-ad,” he whines.
Ryn folds his arms. “Do you want me to add another decade?”
“Ugh, you guys ruin everything!”
“No, ruining things is what you did when you decided to disobey the rules and leave the oasis,” Violet says. “Now please give me whoever’s stylus you decided to steal.”
Jack mumbles something too quiet for anyone to hear before handing over a stylus, crossing his arms, and sticking his lower lip out. Calla covers her mouth to hide a smile before turning away. Looking past her, I see the bald man walking back toward us. When he reaches Calla’s side, I realize why his eyes look strange: his pupils are vertical instead of round.
“Lord Sedon wants to arrange a meeting with the two of you,” he says to Ryn and Violet. “He’s on hold on one of the mirrors.”
“Great, we’ll come speak to him now,” Ryn says.
“Is Chase back yet?” Calla asks.
“No,” the bald man says. “You missed a mirror call from him earlier, though.”
“Oh, I’ll see if I can get hold of him now.” She hurries away.
“Jack,” Violet says, “please take Emerson to one of the empty rooms and then show her around a bit while Dad and I do some work.”
“Will you un-ground me if I do that?”
“No. You’ll do it because you want to be friendly and welcoming to Emerson.”
“Fine,” he groans.
“Great. Emerson, we’ll see you a little later,” Violet says. “We can meet for …” She hesitates, then laughs. “Sorry, it always takes a moment to readjust when traveling between time zones. It’s afternoon here, isn’t it, so we can meet for sundowners by the hammocks.”
“That sounds …” Like the kind of vacation I’ve only ever dreamed abo
ut. “That sounds nice.”
I watch the two of them walk away. When they’re out of earshot, Jack turns to me and grins. “I actually am friendly and welcoming.”
“Okay. Good to know.”
“Come, you can choose a room.”
I walk with him, slowing my pace to match is short stride. “Who set up this whole place?”
“Dad and Uncle Chase. They said it took them like a year to get all the right enchantments in place. But that was before I was born, so obviously I don’t remember any of it.”
“Who’s Chase?”
“Aunt Calla’s husband.”
I nod. “So … are your dad and Chase the ones in charge?”
“I guess. But so are Mom and Aunt Calla. And Uncle Gaius. Although he’s not really my uncle, he’s just Uncle Chase’s friend since forever, and he doesn’t come out of his house much anymore, since he’s sick. I think they’re all in charge. Well, they set the rules, and I get in trouble with all of them if I break them, so they must all be in charge.”
We reach the base of one of the giant trees. Steps have been carved into it, starting from the bottom and curving around the side of the trunk as they climb higher. Jack leads me up, moving as quickly as his short legs will take him. “How old are you, Jack?”
He drags his hand along the trunk as we climb. “I’m eight and a half. How old are you?”
“Seventeen. Eighteen in a few months.”
“Did you go to school where you’re from? ’Cause you can do that here. I have lessons with the other kids who live here, and mostly it’s fun. You can join us if you want, although you’ll probably be with Junie because you’re older.”
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