by Sarah Peters
It was my turn to scoff. “Oh please, how could I have not lied to you like, a million times?”
He lifted an eyebrow and his lip curled in that delightful, spine tingling way. “Have you, though?”
I couldn’t remember. I tried going over every conversation we’d ever had (all, seared perfectly in my memory, naturally), but my brain was too heavy to remember more than the way the hair on the back of his neck had prickled against my palm as I’d slid my hand over his shoulder, the first time we’d met.
“Tell me a lie,” he suggested. The tip of his tail gave the smallest twitch. “Anything. Tell me.”
“Gladly,” I declared. I considered. I’d tell him my dog was named Jupiter Retrograde. Easy enough. “My dog is named Mars Mission,” I said instead. I closed my mouth and managed, “Oh.”
“‘Oh’ indeed,” he scoffed, giving me a lofty, condescending sneer. “As a human, you have no magic, and so you can’t lie to me.”
I was sure I’d lied to him before. I’m a habitual liar. Usually only about small stuff, like the color of my underwear or how many slices of pie I’d eaten, but sometimes about big stuff too, like about what’d happened to Erica’s Halloween candy, or exactly how many times I’d failed my driving test before giving up entirely. I couldn’t help it. The truth was always so boring. “I’ve bent the truth, dunno if that counts as lying. And exaggerated sometimes. But I know I’ve lied with you around,” I decided.
“Well, certainly,” he agreed. “But when you’re speaking directly to me, you cannot outright lie.”
“It’d be nice if I had that power over you,” I grumbled into my arms. “Just imagine, I could get you to be honest about what I stole from you!”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” He leaned back, resting against a leg of the table. “It’s no great mystery.”
“As established, I’m not exactly on top of my detective game tonight. I just danced for nine hours and didn’t even realize it. Like, major yikes.”
Almost idly, his hand extended, and he rested it on top of my other foot. His shoulder brushed mine as he sat back, the cooling, tingly feeling now sweeping over this foot. It was probably just my imagination, but he seemed closer now, as if he hadn’t scooted as far back.
Definitely my imagination.
I exhaled and pressed my forehead against my knees. “I need to find Becca,” I said. “Coming here was a mistake.”
“You’re going to let me win our bet?” Tobias sounded mildly surprised. “I thought you had more fight in you than that.”
Did I have more fight in me? My skin felt hot, but not in a comfy, pleasant way. Hot like I’d been out in the sun for too long without water or sunscreen and now needed to go lay under a cold wet towel. My feet, at least, seemed healed. I wriggled my toes in the dirt.
“Thanks for healing my feet.”
He didn’t reply for a few seconds. Finally, in a voice so quiet that it could’ve been mistaken for the sound of snow falling at night, he said, “it feels good to heal sometimes. I rarely get to do it.”
I opened my eyes and tilted my head in his direction, worried by his defeated tone. That was right—he’d said his power could heal in both directions—did that mean he could make wounds worse? Hurt, instead of help?
He wasn’t looking at me, the sharp lines of his face tight as he frowned at his feet.
Eh, screw it.
I lowered my left hand and stroked his tail.
This, this was a moment I would never, could never forget.
Tobias Monday YELPED.
He jerked up and away, smashing his head against the bottom of the table with a heavy thud, his wings half extending in his panic, whipping his tail out of my hand.
He wasn’t fast enough.
It’d been so soft. Soft as his hair must feel, soft as the gentlest, sweetest cat’s tail.
He curled it protectively across his lap, hands over it as if to stop me from reaching out and grabbing it again and stared at me in abject horror.
“Is it prehensile?” I wondered conversationally, unable to keep the smugness out of my voice.
“How—how dare you just yank—how—don’t you humans teach children manners?!” It was the most flustered I’d ever seen him, and it fascinated me. Blotches of red spread across his upper cheeks, and his pale eyes had widened, the black pupils large and threatening to consume the moon-yellow iris. He inhaled, trying to regain his equilibrium, but I’d rattled the Indomitable Tobias Monday and I was not going to waste this opportunity.
“Please let me touch it again.” I leaned towards him. He shrank away, clinging to his tail as it curled against his waist, as if by clinging to himself he could keep my hands away. “I’ll just pet it gently.”
I was almost on top of him, my hands on his bent knees, my body too close to his.
Too close.
“Absolutely not!” he snapped, but he didn’t twist away from me. Our eyes met, and his eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze, his eyes on my face, lingering on my lips, before meeting mine again. “Absolutely not,” he repeated, quieter.
“Just once,” I said, but I don’t think I was still talking about his tail. “Please.”
He lifted a hand off his tail as if to push me away, but it met the curve of my shoulder and instead of pushing, he pulled me closer.
For half a second, we studied each other’s faces, drawing breaths, the uncertainty causing us to hesitate.
We should not have hesitated.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a familiar, loon-call-echoing voice said, and the loongirl from earlier popped down to peek under the table, “but the Corn King is looking for you, Tobias, and he’s not pleased. As in, strongly displeased. With you. I believe it has something to do with a number of eyes he found.”
I realized my hands—both hands!!!!- were on Tobias, and our faces were so close that if we’d wanted to, we could’ve licked each other’s noses.
Well, or kissed.
Preferably kissed.
“He’s busy,” I said, but the moment seemed to be gone, and Tobias was pushing himself up to his feet and out from the table, leaving me to scramble after him. “Wait,” I grunted, getting tangled up in my own limbs, “you’re busy, remember?” I almost grabbed his tail to stop him from leaving, but figured I’d been rude enough already.
I glared at Loongirl as I climbed out from under the table.
“You interrupted something super important,” I complained. “Super important.”
“Sorry,” she replied with a cheery, wholly apologetic smile. I wondered if I’d read her wrong the first time. Sure, she was naturally pleasant, but I sensed something else about her, something weird. “The knights are looking for you, and I wanted to warn you.”
Tobias surveyed the loongirl, as if surprised to find out she wasn’t a jerk. “You have my thanks, Max.”
So formal, so awkward.
“Where’s someplace they won’t think to search?” Even as he asked it, Tobias took my hand in his in a very business-like way, as if we casually held hands every day. His skin was as cool as the first brush of winter wind, but his grip secure.
Max the Loongirl jerked her head towards the buildings of the spa. “They lock everything up for the night, but it’s almost business hours, so you should be able to sneak in. No one’s allowed in there who’s not an employee during the day.”
Tobias nodded at her and started off, pulling me along behind him. I waved at Max as I was dragged away. Ok, yes, I know, I know, I shouldn’t let a boy drag me anywhere, but I liked the feeling of our palms touching and the curl and grip of his fingers around mine. We ran to the nearest building, and Tobias tried all the doors, finding them locked. I didn’t object, even offering to try and kick some down, which he ignored.
“What did Loongirl mean, the king found some eyes?”
Tobias ignored the question as he tried hefting open a window to no avail, but after a few seconds he said, “my queen requested I place some spy-spe
lls around the Court of the Golden Sun. They resemble marbles. Marbles with an eye.”
“Never took you for a marbles guy,” I muttered. The things you learn. “So he found them and is pissed?”
“Presumably.”
The second building we got to, three storied and made more of glass than metal, had an unlocked door.
I let out a breath. I was free from the dancing for sure now. Far, far away from it.
Oh, and Becca.
Crap.
I wriggled my hand free, and he stopped charging. He glared at me. “Didn’t you hear her? The Corn King is not someone to trifle with.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “sure, but Loongirl said the king was mad at you, not me. I still need to find Becca.” I motioned for him to get going. “I’ll be fine. Hide somewhere super good and I’ll make some owl noises to let you know when it’s all safe.”
He stared at me.
“Whhooo,” I demonstrated. “Whhoooott, HHhoooot, whoooo.”
“Cat,” he grumbled, but I lifted a bare foot, aiming it for his butt, meaning to push him along. He got the idea and sidestepped before I could land my foot. “Get away from here as soon as you can,” he said. “I won’t be far, and I’ll find you.” From him, it came out sounding more like a threat than a promise.
“Not if I find you first,” I muttered, turning away sharply.
After all, I’d been cheated out of what had absolutely definitely most certainly without a doubt been a kiss.
And there would be hell to pay if I didn’t get that kiss soon.
Eavesdropping 101
I’m not exactly the sort of person who goes to spa resorts. Sorry, let me clarify, I am certainly NOT that sort of person. For me, it’s Maximum Luxe just to put on a $3 facemask from Target while sipping some fruit punch and watching old episodes of The X-Files.
So I came to a full stop when (having gotten lost), I walked into an enormous indoor pool, the water pristine and still and as tempting as an untouched pumpkin pie covered in whipped cream.
I was grimy and disgusting and had apparently been dancing for the past nine hours without realizing. My throat reminded me how dry it was, and my stomach gurgled sadly.
Wait, no. Chlorine bad, fresh water good.
I turned and spotted a water fountain.
I decided this probably didn’t count as accepting food or drink from fairies and spent the next minute with my face under the water, guzzling it up like a dog at a spraying hose.
I recalled, after inadvertently splashing myself in the eye for the fifth time, that I was on a mission to find Becca.
I, Catherine Eloise Wadell, have many blessings, and my impeccable sense of timing is among the greatest.
I’d just stepped out of the pool when a lady in a sky-blue blouse and slim-fit khakis rounded the corner, holding a pile of clipboards.
She saw me half a second after I saw her.
Human? Fairy? I had no ideas.
What I did know was that I was hardcore trespassing on the spa.
“SORRY, I AM LOST!” I shouted (ok, when I panic I start shouting, it’s not my finest quality, move along) before I pivoted and dashed the heck away.
She yelled at me, but I kept running.
I zipped around corners and dodged the alarming number of potted plants decorating the hallways and skidded into a wide room with smooth wooden floors, tall mirrors along one wall, and huge windows that faced the prairie. I dove behind a precariously stacked pile of yoga balls.
I honestly had no idea if I’d even been followed, but when I panic I do not do it with any elegance, and I decided I’d probably have to stay hidden forever.
Three minutes later, the door to the studio opened and I splayed myself in alarm against the back wall, certain Death Was Upon Me.
“--still dancing,” a young woman muttered, walking past my hiding spot and heading to the windows. I heard something spritz from a bottle, and then the distinctive rubbing noise of glass being cleaned. “But nooo we get stuck with the morning shift.”
“Could be worse,” another voice said, this one accompanied by the scuff and sweep of a floor duster, “we could be assigned to keeping track of those ugly humans.”
They both laughed.
Behind the yoga balls, I pretended to laugh too, and then scowled. Why were fairies all so rude about me and my friends?!
“OMG Bella, did you SEE that girl with the sheep’s head? How stupid do you have to be to get that kind of curse?!”
They pealed into laughter again.
“I was close enough to hear them, y’know,” Bella said, “that Champion asked the Corn King to remove the sheep’s head! Like it was some big task!”
More laughter.
I glared between the yoga balls.
But here, my luck changed.
My mom could gripe about how rude it was to eavesdrop as much as she liked, but these Golden Sun fairies were crazy gossipy, even more gossipy than Auggie and Penny who sat behind me in Calculus.
“Speaking of dumb,” Bella added, sweeping her large duster past me. The pile of yoga balls trembled gently at her passing. “I was talking to Maria Jespers and she said it took seven of those Winter Falls idiots to give one human a sheep’s head. Seven!”
“Well it’s been fourteen years since the poor things had any magical boost,” Not-Bella said, not sounding pitying in the least. “And it shows.”
“No wonder Tobias Monday looked like he had a stick up his butt! He knows his court doesn’t stand a chance against us—y’know I’m kinda tempted to tell him that even our toddlers have more magic at their hands than seven full grown idiots from his court, just to see the look on his face!”
“OMG Bella stop,” Not-Bella said, laughing her stupid head off. “The Corn King would totes murder us if anyone found out we still have the wand.”
Dumb humans my butt. This almost felt like a play—two characters setting up everything the dashing hero needed to know—an almost too perfect coincidence.
But hey, I wasn’t about to announce myself.
“It’d still be worth it to see Tobias Monday’s face,” Bella retorted. “Three taps of the wand and that human’s ugly head is returned. And it’s like, the least of the king’s treasures. I bet that Winter Queen cries herself to sleep every night from being mad jels.”
I crouched, poised, praying to every single god I could think of that they’d say where this amazing wand was. They’d mentioned a toddler? Sort of weird—maybe related?
Not-Bella snorted, but she came through for me. Whichever god had helped me out, I gave them a mental high-five. “It can be on your head. Like hell I’m going into the daycare. She’s evil as a baby. EVIL. No one’s stupid enough to grab it from her.”
Obviously, they hadn’t met me.
Daycare, evil baby, magic wand, check.
I hid behind the yoga balls for a few minutes after Bella and Not-Bella left, and wished (not for the first time) that I had my cellphone. Or, the power to drop acorn and oak leaf messages on peoples’ heads. Something to let Becca and Finn know where I was and let them know I had a plan.
Well, the beginnings of a plan.
An idea mostly.
A poorly formed idea, but it was something.
So, I’d be going with that.
I crawled out from behind the yoga balls and scampered to the door of the studio, peeking out and looking both ways (twice) before inching into the hallway. Soft, relaxing music now piped soothingly from overhead speakers.
I needed to find the daycare. Presumably the fairies had been talking about a daycare here. Otherwise, I was once again screwed.
I paused when I reached an intersection of two hallways and peered around the corner. No sign of anyone else. Also no indication of where I was or where to find a daycare.
Something thunked on my head and I jumped and squeaked before I realized it was an acorn attached to a leaf. I twisted the leaf around to read the message, and pressed myself up against the nearest w
all, hoping no one walked past.
“The Corn King kindly requests the departure of the Human Champion from his court, as both reward and entertainment have been provided.”
I stared down at it. “Seriously?! You couldn’t have done this like, seven hours ago???” I wondered if Tobias laying his spy-marbles had anything to do with it. Probably. I’d kick out guests too if I found out they’d switched my dragon pillow’s eyes with a nanny spy cam.
Still, the timing was less than ideal, considering I had a sort-of-lead and was properly on a mission.
I’d just have to be fast.
I’m not usually lucky. Like, normally I consider it a good day if less than 5 terrible things happen to me. At school, I never guess the right answers in French, Mrs. Clemmings is onto me like a whale on krill, and the only reason I’m passing Choir (a class I put -50 effort into) is because I have a good voice. Not to mention that in my personal life, the last two guys I asked to school dances (before I wised up and just started asking Finn) laughed in my face before rejecting me, my parents consider me to be the most disappointing of their five daughters and as such got me a diary for my 17th birthday to get me to shut up, over half the population of fairies in Butterfield hated me, and I didn’t get to kiss Tobias Monday because stupid Loongirl interrupted us.
So I was full of Great Wrath when I rounded a corner and ran smack dab into said Loongirl. We collided heavily, my skull knocking into her chin, and this just made me madder at her.
I opened my mouth to tell her how displeased with her I was, only to my utter outrage she slapped a hand over my mouth and bodily pushed me back.