With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  White shields they carry in their hands,

  With emblems of pale silver;

  With glittering blue swords,

  With mighty stout horns.

  In well-devised battle array,

  Ahead of their fair chieftain

  —translated by Kuno Meyer,

  Laegaire mac Crimthainn's Visit to the Fairy Realm of Mag Mell

  Besides the bells ending their toll, the chamber was silent. As soon as the last of their echo drifted from the room, the sun dashed through the window like someone flipped on a light switch in the middle of the night. The enchantment of winter was lifted. The Otherworldly was gone, and he had left us behind in a dissolving world. I was shocked to hear the sound of birds singing outside the melting windows. That was the quickest night ever.

  Hobs breathed out in relief, turning to me. "It makes no sense. All he had to do was swing that sword and we'd all be dead." Was he joking? But Hobs looked serious. "He held the sword of Nuadha. Why did he put it down? No one can defeat the one who holds it."

  "How did he not know?"

  "I hope we gave him reason to wait." Hobs put down his bow. "If he's smart, he'll go after Bridgette." A flash of brilliant light startled the wolves, and they howled out, though I could barely register it after Hobs' disturbing words. Babs!

  "My baby! At last you are back with us."

  I turned, feeling my faery mother's arms wrap around me. Her long hair streamed behind her in a silky sheet of sunrays. She lost no time getting here. I supposed now that the Snow Queen was dead, her influence could no longer hold such a powerful being captive. The light in my mother's dress glistened under the fiery torches in the castle. "With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see," she repeated the enchantment she had put on me backstage. It seemed ages ago. "Then one and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax."

  Three days in the Otherworld. Two days in the Sidhe. It was strange that everything had to do with returning to my mother, but now that I was with her, it all seemed secondary to everything else. My mother touched the crown on my head, and it glowed against her fingers. She laughed and hugged me again. "You've cracked the icy locks of our prison. My love, this castle is yours." She pulled back from our hug to look into my eyes. Tears glistened in hers. "Could it be true? After all this time, do you know who you are?"

  I looked over her shoulder at Hobs; I couldn't help it. He was shaking his head so hard he was in danger of shaking it off. Just in case I couldn't read that, he scrunched his face to give me a warning look. Okay. Keep my name a secret. Check. I turned back to the faery queen and nodded dumbly. "Yeah."

  She gave me a tight little smile, but didn't press me. "I knew you would." Her eyes burned with a strange inner light. My mother had the same porcelain-doll looks as the Snow Queen, but there was more emotion in her eyes; they were almost too bright.

  Before I could figure it out, she guided me to a muscular, dark-haired man. He surveyed a fallen pillar next to the broken mirrors, taking stock of the damage to the castle. I recognized him immediately as the debonair man from the catwalks over the stage of my play, from the few moments before my mother banished him with a kiss. The faery king stood a few feet taller than all of us, strong and imposing. The capes of his cloak flowed around him—too dramatically. Was this my real father, then? My other father was so smiley, so gentle . . . more genuine.

  "Your Majesty." My mother curtseyed elegantly to her husband. "Do you not see? Your daughter did what she was sent to do. She freed us."

  My father didn't look impressed, but I couldn't blame him. We would be ruling a skeleton of this kingdom. I wiped my sweaty palms against my ripped skirt. Everything they once owned belonged to the Otherworldly, and now the guy would go after Babs. It was pretty hard to be happy about that.

  My mother touched the tiara on my head—she couldn't keep away from it, like it was some kind of party gag. Under her fingers, it glowed through the room, sending rainbows of light over the slumping bricks of ice. "Welcome to your new home. All that I have is yours, my star." It wasn't much, but she hugged me to her anyway. And for a moment, it felt good . . . and wrong. There was another family I wanted to see, and a little girl. I had to remind them all that I still existed.

  "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," my mother whispered. Her words made me feel strange. Her fingers dug into my side, her arms like shackles. "Your heart is strong." She stepped back to study my face. "It is beating as it should. It works. I can feel it."

  Oddly enough it was working against her. I knew I belonged in the faery queen's family, but if it meant I could never see my loved ones again, I'd rather not. And there was something else that felt wrong—her charm. There was too much of it, and it was consuming me. She had the power to make me forget everyone I cared about; I knew it the moment she called me "star." And if I wasn't wrong, she was already using this strange magic against me. I struggled to remain calm. Babs needed me to remember her.

  I peeled the queen's fingers away from my arm, trying to look inconspicuous about it. "Mother." The word felt strange when talking to this woman. "Why did you tell me to bring her here?"

  I didn't have to say Babs' name. My mother knew I was talking about the new successor of winter. Her long lashes lowered regretfully over the jewel gray of her eyes. "It was the only way to break the curse. You were as much a prisoner as she was. If you both didn't come, you'd be dead. Without a heart, you had nothing."

  "Yes, but what will happen to her?"

  She lifted a pointy chin, and watched me tenderly with eyes that were still too bright. "I had no choice, my child. I did what I thought best."

  My father put his arm around his wife's delicate waist. He had dark features like mine and a permanent scowl. It was clear now where I got my looks. "Onagh, she won't understand. Not yet."

  Her hand lingered over mine before she let me go. The faery king turned from us, taking in the wreck of the melting castle, seeing everything . . . and nothing. My new palace was in need of some major spring cleaning. The bodies of ogres were piled high. Wolves ran free. The nymphs backed up uncertainly. And if my father looked behind him, he'd see the son of the Snow Queen meeting my weary eyes. It had been a rough year for my faery parents. And for me? It had been a rough lifetime. His face twisted into a sneer. "We have much to do." He circled to Bugul, who loitered in the middle of it all, his tie askew. "Ah, there you are. Come forward!"

  Bugul's boots crunched over the broken glass and ice. He threw his club down in front of him. My mother had sent him to protect me, and now his report was due. Despite the glass, he knelt on the floor before my parents, his manner far too servile. "Your Majesty," he said in a subdued voice.

  No mouthy retort? I stepped back, giving Hobs a worried look. He kept a careful distance from me—from them. I didn't know what to expect from these new rulers. Hobs seemed to know. He tried to reassure me with his eyes, but it wasn't very convincing. He was my consort, after all—didn't he have a certain responsibility over me? I doubted he'd thought any of this through, especially since my new parents showed up so fast. Hobs was as stuck as I was.

  The wolves backed away inconspicuously, practically moonwalking their way out, but not before my father dismissed their fates casually. "Banish the wolves from the Sidhe."

  "No," I said without thinking. My father's eyes flashed at my disobedience. I straightened in the face of his anger. "They were very useful. If not for them, we'd all be dead."

  He treated me to a brief, condescending smile that I didn't like or trust. "If not for them, we wouldn't have had this trouble in the first place."

  "Finn," my mother said warningly. "Finvarra!"

  But the faery king didn't heed her in the slightest, briskly murmuring out a spell through compressed lips. Fingers and claws broke from the ice sculptures where the Snow Queen had trapped the king's former guards. Tearing free from the hollow-eyed statues and gargoyles decorating the
halls, they stepped out just as hideous. I felt my stomach turn on itself. Half man, half horse, half goat, half bird, half alien. Whatever. My parents had designer schizophrenia when it came to building an army. These soldiers were stranger than the ones belonging to the Snow Queen, as impossible as that seemed. They tried to stand up straight on hooves and paws. Considering they had been frozen for so long, it wasn't easy. They took up their weapons, eager to use them.

  "When you have more experience, daughter, you will know how to rule your kingdom." I squinted under my father's clipped tone, already resenting it. "Until then, I shall guide you. Your reign shall be a long and prosperous one." He lowered himself onto the Snow Queen's melting throne, his cape billowing out from him like bat wings. "Frisk those stupid beasts. I shudder to imagine what valuables they've stolen from our castle."

  As soon as the monstrous guards shook some feeling back into their frozen fingers, they dutifully rounded up the whimpering wolves. I was too shocked to move. I couldn't believe my father was doing this.

  "My love," the faery queen lowered her voice, "—not in front of our daughter. She has an odd sort of attachment to them."

  My father snorted impatiently. "Don't tell me how to run my kingdom. It has suffered long enough in the hands of those who know nothing."

  My mother's head ducked, but I caught her expression. She hated him!

  I didn't like their relationship nearly as much as the one my Otherworldly parents had. No, I didn't like any of this nearly as much. And I didn't like how my memories kept hiding from me. Even now, my mother hummed that "twinkle" song under her breath, and I felt a wave of forgetfulness wash over me to erase parts of my past life. I fought it with everything that was in me, wishing I could get to Hobs. He was the sole guardian of my memories. He stood on the other side of my parents, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight on his bow, almost immovable as he watched them in the sea of shoving creatures that were hauled off to the dungeons.

  For some reason, my parents hadn't acknowledged him yet. They argued instead, so involved in the unimportant that they failed to see the biggest threat against them. The nymphs were clapped in cuffs and led away. The guards emptied out the wolves' pockets (I had no idea they had any). They rounded up Gan Ceanach's destructive shadow, and I watched it all with a sick stomach. One of the guards found my book of faerytales on Glasses. The cultured wolf sniffed in disdain and let them take it.

  My hands itched to get hold of that book. Hobs said they were our map out of here. Maybe Jack and Jill held some clues; the Internet said that wells and streams could be a bridge to the other side. Or maybe the Twelve Dancing Princesses had a way—they escaped the Sidhe. If the princesses were dancing, they could've been caught up in some powerful music. Magic slippers? Faery transporters? I had to figure it out before it was too late.

  I stepped inconspicuously behind the guard; he was a half sheepdog, half fish. Hobs motioned me back, but since he was too far away, I ignored him and nodded casually to the strange hybrid who held the confiscated book of faerytales. He was a massive beast. Brown slop dripped from his gleaming shoulders and splattered onto me. I grimaced and with great daring, I reached for the book. "Oh, you've found it. How clever of you." The guard's forehead wrinkled and he held it easily out of my reach. I tried not to paw at him in my desperation. Instead, I adopted Hobs' casual voice. "Um, I'll take that book now."

  "Get back." The guard lifted a beefy palm.

  Before the man could smash me with it, Hobs was at my side. "The princess thanks you for her book." The guard flinched in pain at Hobs' not-so-kind words. It made it easier for Hobs to pluck the faerytales from the scaled gloves and relay it to me from behind his back. Hobs then moved in between me and the scowling guard. "You new in town? Surely you recognize the daughter of your most gracious king?"

  Using Hobs as my shield while the guard failed to match wits with him, I skimmed through the faerytales, flipping over huge clumps of pages at a time. There was one story I wanted. Cinderella. As soon as I found it, I smoothed down the page and skimmed through it. There was a girl, a stranger in her own country. Babs. It had to be Babs. And she was cursed with an outlandish curse. Love was blind.

  Oh, no.

  "Where did she go?" my father startled me by saying. "Now that the hag's gone, the ice is melting from the stone. We're running out of time. Wife, bring me your daughter!" I threw the book under my arm, hiding behind his dripping guard. "You must prepare for her coronation. Let's get this over with. The mirror will declare her the true sovereign tonight. At midnight. Send out the proclamation." The king snapped at the servants to prepare for some pointless celebration that I didn't want. There wasn't enough time to escape.

  I backed into Hobs and slipped over the slick cobblestones in the process. For some bizarre reason, he didn't grab my hand, so I took his instead. He glanced down at me in surprise. I pulled closer to him, not caring if anyone saw us together.

  "Your parents," he said. "They can't know that we . . ."

  "I don't care. I'm worried about Babs. We can't let the Otherworldly get her." I drew him away, so I could talk to him. "She's in trouble. I accidentally cursed her."

  "I know. It wasn't your fault, really. Nobody's first spell is that good."

  "What's he doing here?" the faery king bellowed.

  I turned to see my father's face—it could've been chiseled out of fire, he looked so hot tempered. We were caught. My fingers squeezed Hobs', and his shoulders tightened in resignation. "Time to meet the parents." A bitter smile crept over his lips. "Long live the king and queen, right?"

  I was the only one who heard him, but my father scowled anyway. He gave our hands a pointed look. I would've been flattered that he cared, but there was nothing paternal about it. It was political. I refused to let Hobs go. "Well, well. You've come out of hiding," my father said. Hobs dismissed him with his eyes, looking every inch a traitor to the crown. My father tried again. "If it isn't the Snow Queen's devoted son. I should've guessed that I'd find him with his hands all over my daughter."

  Was he for real?

  Bugul took a deep breath, standing up hurriedly—even though he hadn't been given permission to stand. The poor Leprechaun had been forced to kneel for far too long. "He was actually quite helpful, my liege."

  "He's a prince of the Unseelie court!" my father roared.

  His anger made my knees buckle, and it took me a few seconds to recover. I glanced up at Hobs. "Unseelie Court?" I mouthed to him.

  "The bad court." He didn't bother to lower his voice. "That means I'm bad. Your parents are from the Seelie court; that makes them good."

  Wrong. I couldn't see a trace of goodness in this monarch—he seemed more a dictator. Bugul kept his eyes downcast as he tried to reason with my father. "Your Majesties, without him your daughter never would've survived the Sidhe."

  "Get that silly tie off, man. I can barely look at you. What are you blathering about?"

  Bugul sighed and unscrewed the tie from his neck. "He performed an invaluable service to the Crown, Your Majesties. He protected your daughter." My father's brows knit fiercely when he listened to Bugul's account of what happened between us. By the looks of things, we wouldn't get my father's blessing, but only one thing mattered right now—a little girl who was far away from his tyranny and was still suffering untold indignities. Well, fast food, anyway . . .

  Now my mother was trying to reason with the king, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they started throwing faery kisses at each other or banishing Hobs. My grip tightened on him. Hobs was the only thing keeping me from getting lost in this strange new world.

  "Hobs," I said. "Help me out of here. I think I'm losing my mind, my memories. These aren't my parents!"

  "Yes, they are," he said through clenched teeth. "I hate to break it to you."

  "You know who I am. This isn't it. Please, if it comes down to it, you have to remember for me. Please."

  He had no idea what I was talking about. Of course no
t. The ice that made up the window pane was nearly gone. Outside, the flowers we had tromped on only yesterday were vibrant next to the deep forests. They sang happy songs about springtime. It was beautiful . . . and incomplete. Babs, Bridgette, Halley—whatever her name was—wasn't here. And my shadow was a double-crossing sneak. I shoved the faerytales into Hobs' hands. "Show me how to get to the Otherworld. I'm going after Babs."

  His careful gaze was on my parents. "Watch what you say. You might get your wish." Their voices rose and he grunted out his displeasure. "And maybe that's okay. You are her faery godmother after all." His hand trailed up my elbow and he looked regretful. "I'm surprised you didn't get that from the Merrow. I'm surprised you didn't get a lot of things from the Merrow." He grinned ruefully.

  "Well, you stopped them from talking," I said.

  "I told them I would make you my wife. I think they were jealous."

  "Horrified," I corrected. "I'm still in high school."

  "College . . . in a few days."

  "Only when you fast-forward things."

  "Done. You saw it for yourself. You and I have a future together."

  I desperately hoped so. "Hobs, you've got to listen to me. I'm forgetting things, normal things I should know, like my parents' faces—not these ones! And, and I saw some things when . . ." His steady eyes were on mine, and I stuttered. "When you kissed me. Things in the future might be a little rough. We were being chased by something."

  "It might have to do with Rumpelstiltskin." Hobs looked tense. "I was afraid that maybe . . . look, none of this has ended yet. You know that right?"

  It hadn't? But what was with that whole battle with the Snow Queen? And learning my name and earning my crown? I wasn't sure I wanted to know what else was out there. Keeping an eye on my parents, Hobs cracked open the faerytales and found another story. I groaned when I looked over his arm. Hobs was right. This wasn't the ending. The tale of Rumpelstiltskin hadn't changed a bit, even if the Snow Queen had died.

  It didn't make sense. Who would try to trade me to the Otherworldly for the four treasures? I turned over what was familiar in my mind. As I recalled, there was a king involved. Hadn't the king locked his bride-to-be in that chamber full of straw? To win his love, the queen made their child the poor victim to Rumpelstiltskin's designs. Hobs turned to look at my arguing parents. You'd think they'd be happy I had found true love—if that's what this was. But they only acted like it got in the way . . . of something else.

  Hobs' expression darkened. "You don't think they'd—" His eyes narrowed into dark slits. "Oh, I get it." As he said it, I realized the terrible truth too. Unbelievable! No wonder the books of faerytales were forbidden here. My parents were going to give me away, and they wanted to keep it secret. Why else did they tear me from my loving parents in the Otherworld? They didn't care about me at all.

  "You realize," Hobs said, "it's only a matter of time before they kick me out."

  Hobs would get in the way of their plans. My father wasn't particularly attached to me. My mother appeared too weak to help me. And soon I wouldn't know my name from Rumpelstiltskin's—as long as my mother kept stealing my memories. Hobs was the only thing standing between me and this Otherworldly.

  His eyes didn't leave mine, like he was afraid I'd crumple at the news. "Don't take it personally. They probably think they have no choice but to give in to his demands—a deal they made before you were born. They're just too stupid to see it's a trap."

  "Their sacrifice could save the Sidhe." I felt the sob catch in my throat, and realized I was hurt. "How else will we defeat the Otherworldly?"

  "They won't be using you."

  I couldn't believe this was happening. "There are courts here," I said. "The judges who put Ratis on trial—couldn't we go to them for help?"

  "The Twelve are worse than they are. There are only a few things they care about, and it's not us." Hobs fumbled with the swirly toy and shoved it into my hands. "Give it to me. Make a gift of it."

  "Okay." I felt stupid, but when I gave the toy back to him, he smiled in relief. "I give this swirly toy to you," I said.

  "It's called a fey stone, but don't worry. The incantation will still work. Anything you want me to see or hear, I will now. Every reflection will bring you back to me." Hobs steadied himself. "Meet me tonight? At the change of stars?"

  I really needed to learn the culture around here. "When's that?"

  "Before midnight. Roughly. Come to me before they try to crown you. I'll have something to show you by then. It changes everything."

  I looked outside the castle windows, trying to be inconspicuous about it. The courtyard was now a flooded meadow of tiny waterfalls. "Where? In some puddle?"

  "What used to be the Mirror of Reason.” It was where we had first seen the hag building up her vast armies. "You heard your dad. They're crowning you with the help of the last treasure. The Stone of Fal. It's under the ice, hidden from the Otherworldly. I think that's why my mom froze our world over: in her own way, she was keeping us safe. Not that she cared, not after what they did to her. She was out for revenge."

  By now, my mother's back was to us while she gave my father the silent treatment. He tried to placate her by wrapping his arms around her. "My love, I am not trying to take over, but this is the only way. We must act now."

  Hobs turned from them, exchanging looks with me. "Don't let them force you to stand on the stone. It cries out under the rightful sovereign, but my mother told me something before you came back to me . . . before she died. If she's right, the stone will kill you."

  The world was melting too fast, and taking my memories of Babs with it. And now my life was in danger? I nodded, feeling my own eyes watering over.

  Hobs reached out to brush my cheek with our combined knuckles, trying to comfort me. "Everything will be fine."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "One kiss is all it takes to know." He gave me that mischievous look I loved so much. "Want to find out?"

  I smiled. Well . . . yeah. I liked him more than I should, but I couldn't take more bad news. He saw my hesitation. "You don't still have that ice stuck in your heart?"

  "I wish."

  "Uh, that's a joke, right?"

  Despite everything, I laughed.

  My father swiveled from my mother to glare fiercely down at us. "The faery queen and I thank you for your service to the Crown, my boy."

  Hobs looked pained at the gratitude, and just a little cross.

  "I'm sure you have far better places to spread your mischief. Perhaps other girls to visit?" My father sniggered cruelly at me, having inserted that solely for my benefit.

  Hobs' mouth tilted upward in perfect Puck fashion. He gave me a meaningful expression over my hand as he bent to kiss it. It was meant to encourage me, and it did the trick. I trusted him more than anyone here. "Remember this." He used the same words he used to ingrain the faery rules into my mind, keeping his voice lowered from my new parents. "We will meet again. At the change of the stars. You mustn't forget."

  His lips touched the bare skin at my wrist and I felt something strange flow through me. Faery kisses always had mischief in them. Now that Bugul had his voice box, I'd ask him what this one meant.

  "Do you feel that?" Hobs asked. The warmth in his eyes filled me. "We belong together."

  My father growled low under his breath, but because he didn't do anything, I figured he didn't have the power. Hobs was a prince—of course, if my father had anything to do with it, this prince wouldn't be mine.

  Hobs didn't look away from me. "Even if the prophecies were against us," he said in a voice now meant for everyone else, "I'd fight them too. Nothing will separate us." He let go of my hand, releasing each finger slowly until he held me only with his gaze. He straightened, his mother's talisman swinging against his chest. "You're not a prisoner here."

  The remaining bite of my apple lay abandoned just a few feet from us. Hobs abruptly left me and crushed it under his foot with unnecessary force. No, I wasn
't a prisoner. I didn't eat it all. Water dripped from the slushy ceilings onto Hobs' face, dripping down his hair and down his tan neck. His world had collapsed because of me, and yet he still wanted me. I wanted to be with him too. I believed in him more than I had ever believed in anyone. His loyalty was to me, not to this faery king.

  He bowed low, first to my father and then to my elegant mother. "Your Majesties, until we meet at midnight." Under my father's disgusted look, Hobs scraped the remaining bits of the apple off the thick soles of his oxfords. He did it slowly against the cobblestones with just the exact trace of mockery. It was enough to make the king fume. "Take care of my princess," Hobs said. "Or your reign will not be a long one."

  I winced at that, but instead of ordering his head off, my father treated him to a stubborn nod. My mother managed a stressed-out smile.

  After a backwards glance at me and a devilish wink, Hobs left the castle with his usual swagger. It was his trademark, after all. He had Babs' swirly toy in his hand. It dangled through his long fingers.

  I couldn't wait to collect it from him.

  Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,

  We will make amends ere long,

  Else the puck a liar call.

  So, good night unto you all.

  Give me your hands, if we be friends,

  And Robin shall restore amends.

  —Puck, Midsummer Night's Dream

  THE END

  We hope you have enjoyed the first novel of the Twisted Tales Series, With a Kiss. For your convenience, we have included a sample of the sequel to this novel, At Midnight, a young adult paranormal novel that is the second book in the Twisted Tales series also by Stephanie Fowers, beginning on the next page.

  After that, a Glossary of Faery Terms, a List of Creatures, and a map are also available.

  A list of all books by Stephanie Fowers can be found in the "About the Author" section after the sample chapter.

  At Midnight