by Kailin Gow
I could see Logan's face in the candlelight, filled with pain. This wasn't going to be easy on any of us.
“I'll lay low for a while,” Kian continued. “As far as anyone's concerned, I died on the battlefield. Only you know the truth. Perhaps that could be beneficial. I can do far more good as a spy than I could as the Crown Prince. You must tell them all I am dead – tell them all you could not save me.”
“But your mother? Your sister?”
“I am no longer a Winter denizen,” Kian said sadly. “I am dead to them – I have to be. To do the work I need to accomplish. I must fight for all fairies equally. And if I am dead, my mother will not hold back. She will not fear losing me – and she will not let her love for me influence her judgment. She will not hold back. I have always been a burden to my mother – her love for me has always prevented her from being the Great Queen she wished to be. She already was forced to order my father's death in battle in order to save Winter. I know that she would not be able to bear that danger a second time. Her concern for my safety might just hold her back.”
“But even with the Wolves,” Logan broke in. “How can we deal with the Dark Hordes? That power is far greater than ours.”
“That's where my plan comes in,” said Kian. “I've been thinking – these creatures that have come into Feyland. They are the stuff of legend, of nightmares. They are the stories mothers tell their children at night to keep them afraid. My greatest fear is not the prowess of these Hordes in battle – it is their effect on fairy morale. They will surrender in terror before even daring to fight.”
“Then what...?” Logan started.
“Fairies need a champion, a hero – the stuff of legend. If their nightmares come to attack them, their dreams must defend them. And if I am disguised – I could be that hero.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“The Midnight Knight,” said Kian. “The greatest hero Feyland has ever known. Dressed in black. Belonging neither to Summer or Winter – but to the ancient age of Undivided Feyland. My mother used to tell me stories about him when I was a child – he was the greatest warrior, able to vanquish the Dark Hordes.”
“I haven't heard that story since I was a pup,” Logan said. “The Midnight Knight. Who drove the Dark Hordes into the deepest Gorge in Feyland, and kept them there.” His face broke into a smile. “Along with his sidekick, the Red Wolf.”
“I wouldn't say sidekick,” Kian added charitably. “More like – companion. And if our fairies – let alone the Dark Hordes – believe that the Knight and Wolf are back, that they have come to defend Feyland...they will not fear. They will find their own strength to fight back. And the Hordes will succumb, too, to their terror.
“You really think people still believe in those stories?” I asked.
“I think stories live far longer than people,” said Kian. “If there is any magic strong enough to vanquish these Hordes, it will not come by the swords of soldiers but by the will of the people. They need hope – we all do. And the Midnight Knight – he is not merely a Winter tale or a Summer tale, but one shared by both factions. He is a figure that Summer and Winter alike can believe in – can hope for. And so he is the only one who can save them both. Not the Winter Prince – whom Summer still mistrusts. But someone with the true potential to be a hero.”
“The Midnight Knight,” I said.
“It could work,” said Logan. “Breena, do you agree?”
I thought of my people – my fairies – whom I loved. I thought of their pain, their despair, their hopelessness as one by one, the people they cared about lay strewn and silver-soaked upon the battlefield. If there was anything they needed, it was hope. It was faith in someone new – someone who belonged neither to the Winter nor the Summer forces – something that even I could not give them. It was a hero.
“Yes,” I said.
Chapter 7
It was time to move on. We had spent the night in Josephine's lair – Logan and I had been escorted to our private chamber, while Kian – masquerading as my loyal servant, “Rhinehaus” - was given the rather unceremonious bed of a pile of hay on the floor outside our bedroom. Josephine, for all her strength and kindness, was evidently a stickler for class distinctions.
“So, I'll just sleep on the floor, then, shall I?” Logan was blushing the color of fairyfruit as we surveyed our bedchamber – a single, silk-covered bed in the middle of the room.
“That's not fair!” I stumbled over my words. “I mean, you were here first – this is your room.” Had things ever been so awkward between us when we were in Gregory, when life was so easy? “I'll take the floor.”
“I insist, Breena!” Logan gave me a playful shove towards the bed. “When I slept over at your house back...back home, I mean....I always slept on the floor or the sofa.”
I couldn't help but give a small smile. “I think my mom would have been fine with you sharing the bed. She was always pretty progressive about those things.” Raine Malloy was proud of her permissive parenting – after all, I had never given her any cause to doubt me.
“Do you ever miss those days?” Logan asked me.
“Sometimes.” I sighed. “All the time. It doesn't seem real anymore. Sometimes it feels like Gregory was the dream – that I never lived there at all. My whole life there is just some...someone else's. You're lucky, Logan. You grew up going between two worlds. You're used to it. Me, it's just been one big transition after another.”
Logan gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder – too careful lest his caress last too long. “I”ll compromise with you,” he said. “We both sleep in the bed – your feet next to my head, and my feet next to your head. Is that...okay?”
“It's fine,” I said, but as Logan and I both clambered into the bed I could feel his skin – rough and hard – against mine. I let myself emit an involuntary shudder as he touched me – a memory of the last time we had touched like this. And I could feel Logan trembled slightly besides me. But I thought of Kian sleeping outside the door, evidently getting used to treatment far less royal than that to which he was accustomed, and I forced my face into a countenance of happy normalcy.
“Comfy?” I asked.
“Comfy.”
“One day we'll go back to visit Gregory,” I said. “And we'll have a normal sleepover. Like we used to. Marshmallows and burritos and John Hughes movies.”
“Do you think Kian's ever watched a John Hughes movie?”
“Kian probably doesn't know what movies are,” I laughed. “God – I miss movies.”
“Electricity”
“Internet!” I laughed. “I bet I've got an email inbox back in Gregory with two million unread messages.”
“All from Clarisse, probably. Taunting you for never wearing make-up.”
“They don't even have makeup in Feyland,” I said.
“I knew there was a reason you liked this place,” Logan poked me with his toes.
“That's what I'll do when the war is over,” I murmured sleepily. “Bring Internet to Feyland. And Mac and Cheese.”
“Can't forget the Mac and Cheese,” Logan said, and with that we both drifted off to sleep. That night I dreamed for the first time of home – more vividly than I had ever done before. I dreamed of the books on my bookshelf, of my paint-sets and of my mother's pathetic attempts at making scrambled eggs. It was safe there. It was peaceful.
I woke up more relaxed than I had been in a while – and with an unquenchable craving for Mac and Cheese. We breakfasted in the communal hall – the she-wolves somewhat more hostile to my presence than they had been before I had spent the night with Logan, and attempting to content themselves by flirting shamelessly with Kian.
“A-hem! Girls!” Josephine strode in, taking one look at the pack-members fawning over Kian's wounds and turning instantly to us. “Did you sleep well?”
“Soundly,” I said.
“It was an honor to meet my clans-brother's bride,” said Josephine. “I look forward to an allian
ce of Wolves with Fey, as it was in the old days, before my people began to take an interest in humans...”
“Then we can count on your support?” Logan said.
“Indeed,” said Josephine. “As long as there is a promise of a young wolf cub on the Summer Throne one day, we will all work to make such a thing possible.”
Logan and I gave each other an uncomfortable look.
“And none of us wish to risk the chaos that will threaten all of us if the Dark Hordes take over Feyland,” Josephine continued.
We exchanged more greetings and then we were off. Logan suggested that we head straight for the Summer Court, but Kian proposed a detour to a small mountain village at the very end of Wolfsland, populated by wolves, fairies, and other magical creatures alike. There, he said, ancient craftsmen made the best armor in Feyland, and if he was to pass for the Midnight Knight – let alone defend himself with a halfway-decent sword – he (and indeed, all of us), would need new armor.
It was a four hour trek to the top of the mountain, but there at its peak we found a cluster of wooden houses arranged in a horseshoe formation. It was far smaller than the towns and cities of Feyland – yet it had a particular rustic charm. While the Summer Court – for all its lack of electricity and John Hughes movie – felt like a bustling city, with numerous houses belonging to craftsmen and artisans outside the palace gates and cottages scattered throughout the country glen; this felt far more remote, far stranger.
“I wish to make a replica of the Midnight Knight's sword,” said Kian as we passed towards the threshold of one particular house. “Too dangerous to do it closer to Feyland proper – the word might get out that I was an imposter. But here...I can trust the discretion of the Fey here.”
A wizened, cherry-red face peered out of the house. “Can I help you?” An old woman bustled out into the front garden where we stood. “Dearies – you look so terribly cold. Can't I fix you a pot of hot elderberry tea? Come on in!”
She put her arms around Kian and Logan and bid me to follow, escorting us all inside, into a tiny and eminently messy room, filled with mismatched armchairs and lit by a roaring fire. About ten cats mewed softly as they warmed themselves in front of the fireplace.
“This is the master swordsmaker?” I asked.
“Hush!” Kian smiled.
“Hello, dears,” the woman reappeared bearing a huge platter of tea. “Have you come for something special? A gift, perhaps? A nice decorative hunting dagger?”
Kian rose, bearing himself up to his full height. He had never looked handsomer, I thought, as he assumed the noble bearing of the Midnight Knight – his jaw set, his eyes sparkling with confidence. “Madam,” he said, in his most regal voice, “I have come as a stranger to you, but I come with a purpose. You made a sword and a suit once before, I believe. Now I ask you to make that same sword for me. The sword of the Midnight Knight.”
With a clatter, the woman's tea set fell to the ground and shattered.
“The...Midnight...Knight?” Her voice shook. “Then it is true! All that I have seen!” Her cheery, bustling demeanor had vanished. She seemed younger, more powerful, more serious. “My vision! Last night I had a dream – a dream that left me waking drenched in sweat. I dreamed that the Midnight Knight would reappear – just as you have come. That he would demand a return of his old armor, his old sword.”
“A return?”
The woman's eyes were glistening with tears. “Before he left on his last mission – the Knight came to me. He said 'Arielle, hold these for me. I will need them someday.' And he left – and nobody knew what happened to him, on that final battle. He drove the last of the Dark Hordes into the Gorge, and then he vanished. But I knew he wasn't dead, I did. Not gone! No, he'd said to me – he'd be back. Somehow. And here he is again – come to take his armor.”
Arielle ran into a back room of the house, and reappeared moments later, her arms buckling under the weight of a heavy set of armor. Logan and Kian sprang to their feet to help her, but she waved them away.
“I have been crafting these chains long enough not to need any aid!” she said. “Now, my Knight, will you put these on?”
She helped Kian fasten each piece of the armor – the black chain mail, the smooth emerald-colored trim – to his body. She placed the visor, covering his face, upon his head, scrubbing the opal gemstone upon the head until it shone. “It fits perfectly,” she cried, as Kian raised the sword above his head, allowing it to slice effortlessly through the air. “Hansel, look!” As she shouted, an old man came scurrying in.
“It is!” he cried. “You were right!”
“Hansel told me it was just a dream!” Arielle wiped away her tears on her husband's tunic. “But I told him – it was a vision! You look just like him – as he was....all those years ago. I knew it even before he put on the armor. His heart. His spirit. I knew from the moment I saw him...the Knight's magic. I knew he'd never leave me, my Knight! I knew he'd come back – in times as troubled as these. To give hope to the people of Feyland – at last!”
I couldn't see Kian's face from beneath the visor, but I imagined he was as surprised as we were. We had expected to perform a deception – a necessary one, but a deception nonetheless. Instead, Kian was being told that he was the Midnight Knight.
“I never thought I'd see the day!” Hansel was weeping, too. “But if you are the Knight, then you will need...” He led us all outside into the garden. “Your steed! Steel!”
On command, an enormous noble horse, his coat marbled white and grey, bounded towards us. He stopped right in front of Kian, bowing his head.
“Steel! Your master's returned!” Hansel said. “After so long...he recognizes you still!”
Logan and I looked on in wonder as the horse nuzzled against Kian's arms.
“Don't let us detain you!” Arielle helped Kian into the saddle. “Go – go and fulfill your destiny! Save Feyland!” She squeezed Kian's hand tightly. “I always knew you'd come back.”
Hansel patted Kian on the back. “It has been an honor, my Knight.”
“Care to join me, Breena?” Kian extended a hand, and I leaped onto the back of the horse, trying to force my arms around Kian's thoroughly uncomfortably metal waist. Logan morphed into a wolf and ran alongside as we set off.
“Can that woman really have known the Midnight Knight?” I asked. “If he lived so long ago...”
“That village,” said Kian, “is called Everlast – and time and death have never touched it. Its magic is strong – nothing can harm those who were born on the mountain. I think that woman really did know the Midnight Knight – certainly, all the stories about him say that his armor was indeed made by the Forger of Everlast.”
“And you don't think...what she said...?”
Kian shook his head. “She believes in the story,” he said. “Like I told you – she's waited her whole life for the Knight to return to her, and she wanted it so badly that she believed me straight-off. It was the power of the story – nothing more.”
But as I clung tight to Kian, I felt that this wasn't true. Something in my magic – the voice of the old queens, their power – told me that there was more to Kian, more to the Midnight Knight, than a mere story.
Chapter 8
The next step was to gather allies.
“We need more of us,” Kian said as we rode onwards, “more fairies that claim their loyalty neither to Summer nor to Winter, but to peace as a whole, to fairy unity.” He turned to me, stroking my hair. “Remember what Tamara said,” he whispered to me. “Your destiny – our destiny – one Feyland. United.”
I smiled, but I was unsure what to think. I knew I believed in peace – that my destiny was to unite Feyland. Yet my heart longed to return to the Summer Palace, to my own land, my own magic. I thought of my father fighting, of my beloved Court besieged, my orange blossoms set aflame, my flowers cut from their roots, salt thrown in the earth. I couldn't help but feel anger at the Winter fairies who had agreed to summon and fight alo
ngside the Dark Hordes, even as I knew such anger would get me nowhere. I couldn't tell Kian, of course – after all, he was a Winter Prince, and I loved him in spite of that. But I couldn't help but feel unsure as Kian suggested we divert our course back to the Summer Court a second time, in order to pass through some Spring lands.
“There are dangerous roads here,” said Kian. “This land is inhabited by dragons. But my friend Jeremy has a castle here. He is in exile here – he may be able to help us, to join our cause.”
“Can you trust him?” Logan asked. “To keep your secret.”
“Jeremy is one of my oldest friends,” Kian said. “I would trust him with my life. In any case, the tale of the Midnight Knight must spread among the Summer and Winter fairies alike if it is going to work. We need to give it time to reach the ears of the fighters. If we turned up at the Summer Court tomorrow, few would notice – few would see my armor. But if we begin by making a name for ourselves in the countryside – gathering aid from our fellow warriors – then the Dark Hordes will presently hear of it. Is that acceptable to you, Breena?”
I nodded glumly. I could see Kian's point, and I knew he was probably right. Going back to the Summer Court now would be too dangerous – a suicide mission. The Dark Hordes were strong against the Summer Court – the palace was barely holding up under siege – and there was little I could do on my own to change that. My father possessed the same magic as I did – the magic of the Summer throne – my return would only put us all at risk. But, I thought sadly, perhaps it was better to risk my life, to stare down death a third time, at home with my family, rather than riding through the countryside like this, in relative safety. I couldn't get rid of my guilt, no matter how hard I tried. Was I meant to be here – in this false idyll – riding through hills and dales and valleys with the two men I loved most, while so many were dying in the heart of Feyland?