Elin kept laughing. “So you see, Liza. You are no better than us after all. We all seek power, and we all fear its lack.”
Matthew flung the crushed seed into the forest, but his shoulders remained stiff, watchful.
“Foolish wolf,” Elin said. “Someone else might well have wanted the power you so lightly cast aside.”
Matthew looked at me, a question in his eyes.
I didn’t know how to answer it. Part of me longed to make him gather the pieces of crushed seed up again, in hopes that some power might remain in them. “You have no protection now.”
I heard his breath speed up, saw the small pulse that pounded in the side of his neck. He was still afraid, afraid of me. I smelled his fear, a sharp tang in the humid air. Had the faerie folk always smelled my fear, too?
“I understand why you and Allie ate the seeds.” Matthew’s voice was the one steady thing about him. “I know too well what glamour is like, and why you want to be safe from it.”
He knew it better than me. The Lady had held him under glamour for so long. “Then why—”
“Because I don’t want to use glamour on anyone else, not now, not ever.”
I flinched at his quiet words. “I’m—” But I couldn’t say I was sorry, because I wasn’t sure I was.
“You wouldn’t have to use it.” Allie twisted a lock of hair around her fingers, and I knew she felt as uneasy as me. “I don’t plan to.”
Matthew looked at Elin. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I know I’m not better than you.” He pulled his shirt back on. “I know the things I’d do if I had this power. That’s why I can’t take it.”
I wanted to be sorry—that wasn’t enough. I wanted to pull him close, so close that I could pretend everything was all right. I reached for him. He reached for me, and something sleepy crept back into his eyes.
I drew a sharp breath. Was that sleepiness only him wanting to hold me in turn, or was it something more? How could I ever know if his wants were truly the same as mine, or whether I just wished them to be?
I jerked my arms back to my sides. I couldn’t know, and that meant I had to set my own wanting aside. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I’d sooner draw my own blood than his.
“I know,” Matthew said, his eyes clear once more. But he didn’t reach for me again.
“Caleb and Karin never used it.” Allie stuck out her lower lip. “We can learn not to use it, too.”
“You think glamour can be turned off at will, as easily as hooding a hawk sends it to sleep? I do not know how much practice it took for my mother and uncle to cease using glamour so completely. I only know they used it freely enough when I was young.” No laughter in Elin’s words now. “Let me go, Liza. Entertaining though this may be, we have work to do beyond the Arch.”
“Be free,” I said, releasing my magic’s hold on her. Then, “Why didn’t you say someone still followed us?”
“As I recall, we had a few more pressing concerns.” Elin moved to put a hand to the Arch’s surface. “Now, I cannot speak for the rest of you, but I intend to do all I can for my mother.” She stepped into the metal and was gone.
Right. First we’d save Karin, or fail to save her. Everything else would come after. I walked to the Arch as well. Allie grabbed my stone hand. I reached for Matthew with my good one. His steps were so much louder than Allie’s and mine.
He hesitated, just for an instant. As his fingers closed around mine, I saw the apology in his gray eyes.
“Maybe you should stay behind.” My whisper sounded loud in the night. “I’m not the only one you’ll have to worry about in Faerie.” It was much more dangerous for him to go there than me now.
Matthew shook his head, no doubt in that gesture. “I came this far to find you. I’m not leaving you now.”
“All right.” We’d deal with this later, too—somehow. I looked into the Arch. Faerie. Show me Faerie.
The visions were reluctant to come, like fire to wet wood. It took a long time before I saw—
Karin, rocking back and forth as she crooned to what remained of the First Tree, while in the near distance, other dead tree stumps crumbled to dust—
Nys, standing in a stone cavern set with gems of all colors, faerie folk gathered around him. At the room’s center was another standing stone. He walked through it, and the others followed, holding to one another as surely as Allie and Matthew and I did—
“Liza.” Matthew’s low hiss drew me out of the vision. I blinked my eyes open in time to see Nys stepping out of the Arch, all of Faerie behind him.
Chapter 17
Faerie folk poured from both legs of the Arch, the one we stood by and the farther one, too. So many—Nys couldn’t be the only seer leading them. As they gathered at the center of the stone platform, Matthew, Allie, and I backed away. What would happen to my world with so many faerie folk in it? Elin and the Lady alone had destroyed entire towns.
I shivered in the chill air. This was more than three humans could handle, with protection from glamour or without it. I put myself between the fey and Allie and Matthew, but they returned to my sides as Nys’s gaze fell on us.
“So you return to witness our final exile, humans?” There was dust on Nys’s hands and scarred face. “I do not know how you escaped, but I cannot believe you are here out of concern for our well-being or to mourn the ending of the Realm. Even so, we might make some use of you yet.” His eyes narrowed, like a hawk honing in on prey. “Allie. Come here.”
Anger flared in me. After all that had happened, he still saw Allie as just a tool to be used for as long as possible, until like all tools she wore out.
But Allie was no more fully human than I was now. Her hold on my wrist remained firm. “You can’t take me over, not anymore,” she said.
Nys frowned. “Given more time, I would have the truth of how it is you and Liza have both slipped my control. As it is, there are other ways of gaining your cooperation.” He bent to touch the platform, and its stone grabbed hold of my feet and Matthew’s boots. I tried to wrench free, but the rock swiftly flowed past our knees.
I reached with my good hand to push it away, and stone grasped my fingers. I snatched them back, feeling pinpricks of rock in my skin. I drew my other hand close as other faerie folk moved to surround us.
“Now, Healer,” Nys said. “If you don’t wish me to command this stone to rise farther and squeeze the very air and life from them, you will come with me.”
“You could just ask.” Anger burned in Allie’s words.
Beside me, I heard the pounding of Matthew’s heart as he gauged the crowd. Maybe he could shift his way free—his wolf’s legs were thinner than his human ones—but what then? The faerie folk had stopped exiting the Arch. There were a couple hundred of them, many with bags slung over their shoulders or backs, some with hooded hawks or wakeful owls on their arms. A few of the fey, clearly ill, were carried by others. I did not see Tolven—the only one who might not wish us dead—among them. As a wolf, Matthew could attack Nys, but there were too many who’d attack Matthew in turn. I had Nys’s name, but I didn’t have anyone else’s.
That meant we had to talk our way free. “Nys,” I said.
Nys looked down at me. “I have already told you that is not my true name.”
“No.” My voice was hard as the stone that now moved up my thighs. “But I do know your true name. And if you do not release us, I will use it.”
“Human lies,” Nys spat. “Of the few here who know my name, none would share it with you.”
“Kaylen would.” A few of the fey exchanged glances. Most of them didn’t know Caleb had survived the War. “Shall I speak the name he gave me to everyone here? Or will you let us go? We do not seek to harm you. We only seek to pass through the Arch.”
“And where is my son,” Nys said coldly, “that you have so recently been in his confidence?”
Allie made a strangled sound. Matthew’s fingers found mine, and that small comfort made me want to c
ry.
“He’s gone.” I forced the words out into the night, where nothing could take them back. “He died saving his student.”
“His human student?” Nys asked, his voice deadly soft.
“Yes,” I said. “You pushed too hard when you made her heal.” Nys hadn’t made Allie kill the owl, though. He hadn’t made me bring Allie back. Yet this would never have begun if not for him.
“My son has long been a fool. He has long paid prices higher than any of us could afford.” Nys’s voice remained quiet. He gave Allie an appraising look. “I hope you intend to be worthy of this sacrifice, Healer.”
Allie lifted her head. “That’s exactly what I intend.”
“Let us go,” I said, “and I will hold your name safe. Make any move to harm us, and I’ll speak it so that all here may know it.” There were enough fey to make up a large town, if there were a town with no children in it. Surely Nys had enemies enough among them.
Nys touched the stone platform, and it released Matthew and me. “I give you your lives.” His eyes lingered on Allie, as if she were a pet he was reluctant to set free. “Nothing more. You will come with us, all of you.” Around us, the silent fey waited, as if on Nys’s word.
He wasn’t their ruler. Faerie wasn’t run by a Council like my town was. “If you let us go,” I said, “I will do what I can to return Karinna to you. That’s what you and Elin wanted when you stole me away, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure Karin wanted to be returned to her people—or that I wanted her to be—but we’d figure that out later. First we had to save her.
A whisper of breath rippled through the gathered fey. They didn’t know Karin lived, either.
“We have survived without Karinna the Fierce for some time. We will survive a time longer, until this world, like ours, falls to dust. If you wish your freedom, you shall have to offer better than that.”
“Fine! I’ll offer you something.” Allie shoved her hair out of her face and looked right up at Nys. “After we save Karin, I’ll go with you and keep healing your people, even though you can’t make me do it anymore.”
“No!” I grabbed Allie’s hand. She pulled it away.
“It’s not up to you, Liza.” Allie kept looking at Nys. “But I get to demand some things, too. Like that I won’t stay with you all the time, because I also have my own town to take care of. And that you promise to protect me if any of the fey try to hurt me, because I can’t heal anyone if I’m dead.”
Nys regarded her with a cool stare, as if Allie weren’t offering him far more than he deserved. He deserved to die himself after all he’d done. “And why should I trust you to serve us, Healer, after I have used you ill?”
“I’m not serving you. I’m doing what’s right. Just like I keep telling you. Caleb would do the same, you know.” Allie bit her lip. “I hate what happened so much. If it were up to me, I’d undo it all. But I can’t, so I’m going to make it worth something. I’ll be more careful this time. It’s easier to be careful when you’re not afraid. I’ll try not to push too hard—you also have to promise not to make me push too hard. But I’ll take the chance.”
Nys looked to the dark sky. “You would truly come with us? Leave your people to walk among so many of mine, after all the harm you did to us during the War?”
“Careful,” Matthew whispered.
“And after all the harm you did to us, too,” Allie said. “Yes.”
“We do not need the help of humans,” a woman said. I recognized her: the woman who had guarded the sickroom.
“This is true enough for you and I,” Nys said, looking back to Allie. “Yet I will accept the healer’s offer, not for my own sake, but for that of our people.” He bowed to Allie, as respectfully as Tolven had bowed to me. “I agree to your conditions, Healer.” Nys stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the Arch. “Do what you must, and then see that you keep your word and return to me, or it will reflect badly on all your people.”
I grabbed Allie’s hand again, and this time I didn’t let go. I had no idea how I would keep her safe from Nys now.
I looked to Matthew. He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t like it, either,” he whispered. “But Allie’s right—it’s not up to us.” He laid his hand on my other arm as I walked back to the Arch.
“Your trust in us is charming, Liza,” Nys said. “But it is not you with whom I have exchanged vows this day.”
A whisper of wind brushed the Arch, echoing off of something hollow inside. Nys had given me little reason to trust him. I looked into the Arch’s surface. Show me Faerie. Light came to it slower still, but then I saw—
Tolven, in an underground cavern surrounded by dying brown plants, his quia seed in hand. “I want to keep you,” he whispered to it. “But you do not want to be kept. And this has never been only about me.” He drew a breath and called, “Grow!” The seed’s shell cracked, and a bright green shoot began to unfurl—
Gray dust, casting haze into the air, and around the haze the empty dark, moving closer, ever closer. Through the haze, I saw a few burned trees, and the standing stone, and Elin, approaching her mother, trying to catch hold of the hem of Karin’s shirt. Karin whirled around, aiming a kick at Elin’s legs, and Elin toppled into the dust. She scrambled to her feet, eyeing Karin, looking for another chance to approach—
In the distance, I heard footsteps—our watcher, moving closer again. Nys would have to deal with that. I stepped into the dust. Stone pressed close around me, pressing the air from my chest—and then I was free, gulping air once more, air that held the scent of dying rooms, cut off from light and air and hope, for all that we stood beneath the night sky. I coughed as I looked around.
We stood beside the standing stone, in an island of faint color: gray stumps, black sky, white stars, Elin and Karin in their shades of green and brown. Karin crouched by the First Tree, humming to it as if it were a child, but brown shoots no longer grew at her command. From her pocket, I felt a hint of green life from the seed she carried.
Elin knelt by her mother’s side, despair clear enough in the set of her shoulders. A few dozen yards away in any direction, dust hung heavy in the air, and beyond the dust lay the cold darkness of the crumbling. That darkness was shot through with faint strands of silver, just as it had been at the crossroads. I heard as well as saw them, a faint thrumming in the air, near the edge of hearing.
“This is bad,” Allie whispered as she and Matthew dropped my hands.
Elin stood at our approach. “I see you have deigned to join me at last.” She limped slightly, and a purple bruise had flowered on her cheek. Karin was not easy to rescue.
“Ran into some faerie folk.” Matthew wrapped his arms around himself as he took in the bleak land around us. The air remained warm, but the wind that whispered through it was cold and stale.
Elin glanced at her mother. “How many?”
An uneasy laugh escaped Matthew’s lips. “All of them, I think.”
“That is some small comfort, then,” Elin said. “For it means my people have escaped this crumbling for a short time more, until the human world, too, falls to dust.”
It would be no comfort to the humans subject to faerie glamour. “This isn’t right,” I said. “We weren’t away for long enough for so much to crumble away.”
“Do you not know how things unravel?” Elin rubbed at her arms. I wondered if more bruises lay beneath her cloak. “First there is a snag, then a small run in the fabric. It can stay like that a long time. For all the years since the War. But once a weaving comes undone, once something pulls the snagged thread, it goes quickly, the weight of all that time behind it. And so Rhianne’s long watch over Mirinda and all her children fails at last.”
“The War,” I said. “That was the snag.”
“No doubt,” Elin said. “The War was when the crumbling began. The fires your people sent were strong indeed. But I do not know what pulled the thread.”
It wasn’t the fires alone that had caused the crumbling. I knew that now.
It was the death Rhianne’s roots kept away from her people and the effect of the War’s many dead flooding the gray those roots held. I looked to the First Tree and saw Rhianne’s shadow arms stretching toward the sky. Had Mirinda known the price of her mother’s gifts before she’d passed from the Realm? But that would have been countless years before the War, and the only prices paid then were paid by humans.
I circled the tree, looking for some way to touch Karin. I reached for her wrist. Karin hissed, a sound like rain on hot stone, and I drew back.
“We need a distraction,” Matthew said. “So Allie can get closer. Maybe if we all approach at once …”
Distract me from my work here no longer, Rhianne had said, lest you hasten that which you seek to prevent. I remembered a flash of green, the very fabric of the gray gone slack as I tried to wrench the summoner free of it, until she seized control once more.
The wind cut through my sweater, raising bumps on my skin. The War was the snag, yes. But the War wasn’t what had pulled on the thread once the snag had caught.
I was.
When my people make a mistake, we try to set things right. Elin’s words, but I’d always believed it, too. It wouldn’t have been a mistake if Rhianne hadn’t taken control again. But she had, and so instead of fixing things, I’d made them far worse.
How could a mistake this large be mine?
It didn’t matter how. I had to set it right. I looked up at the First Tree’s shadow branches—Rhianne’s arms, grasping at the sky, at more than anyone should hold. I craned my neck and saw what might have been shadow leaves or might have been flowing hair. No doubt Rhianne had only sought to set things right, too.
I’d tried to push her out of the gray from within it and failed. What if I pulled her to me from outside of the gray instead?
“I think I can provide a distraction,” I said. One that Karin, focused on the First Tree as she was, would surely notice. “Ready, Allie?”
“You know I am,” Allie said.
Elin gave me a level look. “Care to tell us what you intend? Or do you prefer to play a guessing game?”
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