"I said I would, before you stole my treat." Aurelie made a face at the lutine.
Helis sniffed. "You promised."
Aurelie relented. "So I did." In honor of the approaching season, she played the winter round that children sang on the Longest Night. The notes dropped crisp and clear from her flute, telling of distant stars, snow on the wind, the hush that falls over the world before the season changes.
She looked up once from her fingering to see Loic's violet eyes fixed intently on hers. As if the Fae's gaze had summoned it, a wisp of memory drifted through Aurelie's mind. The same song but a different setting. She let the notes remind her.
Warm. Toasty warm, though cold air bit her little nose when she poked it out of the nest of furs. Dark. A winter's night, with lines of torches that pierced the darkness and dropped ash onto the snow. Bells tinkled. A horse snorted. Beneath the moon, the sleigh glided, iron runners squeaking on packed snow.
Content, and safe, and sleepy. Aurelie marveled at how distinctly she remembered. She must have been very small; the figures on either side of her loomed large on the sleigh bench. One sang, his deep voice opening the round. Aurelie loved to hear her papa sing. She snuggled next to him, waiting for the moment her mama would chime
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in--therel The sweet, breathy voice chased the low, steady voice, like a puppy chasing its tail. Around and around.
Aurelie's eyelids fluttered as she played the simple tune, fingers moving up and down the flute. Around and around. She was child Aurelie, drifting into sleep...she was grown Aurelie, playing for the Fae. Safe, beloved. The moon shone overhead. Aurelie's eyes opened and locked onto Loic's fathomless gaze. What big eyes the river drac had. Aurelie was falling. As if the memory were a dark lake, she dropped into it and saw a woman with chestnut hair and dark eyes. Her bronze skin glowed in the torchlight as Queen Basia tucked a lap robe around her daughter. "Sweet dreams, Aurelie."
The tenderness of the gesture tightened Aurelie's throat. "Mama," she whispered into the flute, and brought the song to a close. A swift, sharp pain stabbed her chest. She would never see that face again, never hear the soft voice call her name. Aurelie couldn't breathe; she couldn't move. Loic's deep eyes held hers, and for a moment she was frightened by the hunger she read there. Then the Fae blinked, releasing her, and Aurelie knew again who she was and where and why. She was safe with the Fae, of course she was safe. What had prompted that moment of unease? She had felt trapped, almost, by the drac's regard.
She couldn't quite...what had she...? Aurelie reached for an answer, but it was gone, and unimportant, after all, when lutins and farfadets crowded around her knees, crowing with pleasure. She reflected how odd it was, to have left her home and everything familiar behind, only to discover her family waiting here. True, Queen Basia had died. But when Aurelie played, her mother's memory lived, immortal as the Fae.
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Had his own memories drawn Loic back to the mortal world? Perhaps, in all the splendor of the Fae realm, he'd never found companionship sweeter than what he'd shared with his human friends?
Gaelle plaited Aurelie's hair with her twiggy fingers. Loic smiled his lazy smile and stroked the arch of Aurelie's bare foot. "Acceptable, dearest Princess," he teased.
"Anotherl" Helis said.
Aurelie played a second song, and then a third. Music was the one gift she could offer in return for the magical time Loic's favor had opened to her, and she gave it gladly.
When the hour came for Aurelie to depart, the drac escorted Aurelie to her bedchamber. He kissed the back of her hand, his lips lingering, then took his leave. As she pulled the bedclothes over her head, Aurelie sighed in exhausted contentment. She couldn't wait to tell Netta.
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Chapter 16 Garin
I hid in the library. An old building, it had been added onto many times, with walls knocked out between adjacent properties, stairs and ramps added to connect the levels. Two nights running, I managed to keep out of sight, taking catnaps in areas the cleaners had swept and dusted the previous day. Most of the time, though, I read, trying to find something in the archives that would help me clear my name.
A lutine had given me the idea, the night Burgida had told me about the order for my arrest. I'd escaped just ahead of the guards and fallen asleep beneath an overturned dinghy. When 1 awoke, my hair had been twisted into tiny plaits tied with feathers and limpet shells. Together with a scruff of beard and the patched black scholar's gown I'd picked up in a shop behind the university, I hoped to pass for a foreign student. People traveled here from great distances to read history, geography, philosophy, medicine. The gown helped me blend in
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with the library's other patrons and was too shabby, I hoped, to catch the eyes of Inglis's toughs on the street. But the capital wasn't large. I didn't have much time before my pursuers widened their search beyond the docks.
And my prospects looked grim. Several weeks after Princess Aurelie's ship left for Lumielle, Captain Inglis had accused me of setting the fire and offered a reward for my capture. I wondered whether she had recognized me when she hired me for Gargouille's crew, or whether she learned my identity later and adjusted her plans. In any case, her story contained just enough truth to be plausible: a rival merchant's son spying on her affairs. Her bribes made the fiction reality, at least to the council's satisfaction. While blaming me, she'd been careful not to include my parents. Their allies wouldn't support a total condemnation of my family or the confiscation of their remaining property.
No, I was the goat. My parents had to distance themselves, and I encouraged them to do so, the one time I'd sneaked into the loft above the repair yard. Rigger Neff had been Inglis's watcher that night. Finding a bottle of brandy in the alley had kept him distracted, but even he would suspect a trick if it happened a second time.
Although my family knew the truth, there was no telling what die princess had heard. Had she made it safely home? Surely, or the news would have penetrated even the library's quiet corridors. Would Aurelie believe the lies Inglis had spread about me?
I hoped not, though I couldn't have inspired much confidence the last time she saw me: filthy, curt to the point of rudeness, stomping away quick as I could to hide how much I wanted to stay. When
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she flew out of the box-chair, so pretty and sweet-smelling, it was like she belonged to another world. I couldn't put her down fast enough to stop my sooty clothes from staining her dress. And then, like a fool, I'd accused her people of starting the fire. Hadn't I felt the bandages on her hands, under the lace, the same as my own mother and every other Dorisen citizen?
Aurelie had trusted me, picking my box-chair from the line. She'd hurt her hands fighting for my city. I hadn't even thanked her, just shoved her into the skiff and left, convincing myself it was thoughtfulness, not hurt pride, that kept me from sharing my problems. I meant to help, keeping her out of Inglis's clutches. Except that my meddling had exploded in our faces, and set the captain harder against the Jocondagnans for the insult to her house.
Why didn't Inglis want peace between our countries? If I knew more, perhaps I could counter her moves, not just run while her men chased me around the board. She needed to bring me in soon. Preferably dead, I assumed, so I'd be unable to plead my own case or ask questions about the fire. Like how I'd set it while cooking supper for the Woolies.
Neff had wondered, I'd heard, but been shut up by a technical explanation of fuses and lead times. Which meant anyone could have done the deed. Who stood to gain? Inglis.
But I had to prove it. The cryptic notes in her little ledger had given me ideas, but nothing solid. I would have to find a thread of inconsistency elsewhere and tug at it until the cloth of her lies came unraveled. I started with the Fae.
Dorisen's library possessed a large number of books on the
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subject, considering that only lutins and the occasional silkie or mermaid visited Skoe. When the greater Fae entered the mortal wo
rld, they shunned our rocky isles.
On second thought, perhaps it was safer to study the creatures from a distance. They might not tolerate having their secrets published too close to their haunts. While Jocondagnans told stories, I'd never seen a book about the Fae on the continent, even in the king's palace in Lumielle.
Keeping an ear to the door, and both feet on the floor, I skimmed the brittle pages. Most of it was nonsense, third- and fourth-hand tales written by people who'd never met the Fae and so gave an exaggerated picture of their powers. Contrary to several reports, suck-breaths couldn't kill a person. As a child in Cantrez, I'd forgotten to put a piece of bread under my pillow one summer night and woken from a bad dream to find one of the ugly things crouched on my chest. My sitting up and shouting had frightened her. Like rats, they fed off the helpless, skittering away the moment a person opened his eyes.
When I found a description of a gargouille, supposedly copied from the journal of a man who'd courted her human shape (and survived), I hoped it was a similar exaggeration. A dragon the size of a whale, magic-working, fire-breathing, hungry, without a river drac's sense of humor or a Fee Verte's love of dancing to recommend her? The last one had been sighted near Lumielle a hundred years ago. For my friends' sake, I hoped she never chose to return to her lair under the River Sicaun.
Loic had told us that the Fae generally preferred their world. They visited ours from time to time as a wealthy Dorisen merchant might
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spend an evening at a dockyard dive, to remind himself why he liked the heights.
Matagots, lutins, White Ladies, melusines...Madame Brebisse had spoken about many of them. I kept myself alert by grading the authors' claims. River dracs employ human nurses to care for their young. True. Once lured into the river, the nurse is bound for seven years. True. Her service ends when the young drac kills and eats her. False. Loic said dracs enjoyed our conversation, not our flesh. When her term ended, a nurse was returned to her astonished family with a purse of gold and a warning that she must never speak of her employers. As a foster child myself, I had wondered what happened to the nurse's own children in the meantime. The stories didn't address the question.
Out of respect for the librarians, 1 didn't write on the books, however much I was tempted. Page followed page, a mix of solid information, half truths, and lies, until at last I found a picture that resembled Helm Burgida's Fae form.
Holding the book to the light, I struggled to decipher the old-fashioned text.
The Vouivre wears her Luck like a Living Gem. To Bathe, she puts the Jewel aside for Safe Keeping and assumes the Face and Form of a beautiful Woman. At this Moment, a Bold and Enterprising Person may Attempt its Acquisition and Enjoy Seven Years of Excellent Fortune, though Few succeed in the Attempt. Deadly when Roused, the Vouivre's Talons and Teeth will Rend her unfortunate Victim to Pieces.
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I studied the picture again. Lizard body, long snout, two big eyes, and set in her forehead, an enormous, glittering gem. Not so for the Fae I'd seen. Either the author was mistaken about it, or someone had stolen Helm Burgida's Luck.
Captain Inglis? Was that how she compelled a Fae to be her servant? What other powers did the stone confer? And what happened when the seven years were up?
At the beat of approaching footsteps, I closed the book and spread an ocean atlas over it. Good thing, too. As if my thoughts had summoned her, Burgida entered the room.
She slid into the seat opposite me, stretched out her legs, and nodded at the atlas. "Planning a trip?"
"Maybe." The empty hollow in her forehead drew my eye. I looked at the atlas. Why had Burgida helped me escape? Did it amuse her to thwart Inglis in this small thing, given the circumstances?
"I'm no physician," the Fae said, "but I believe a change of scene would be good for your health."
"A southern climate, perhaps?"
Her boot pushed a leather knapsack across the floor. It bumped my leg with the soft clank of coin. "Certain parties are investing in extra 'protection.' Cold, cold weather on the way, they say."
Perhaps she, too, wanted to escape. "And you? Fancy a sea voyage?"
"No, thanks." She smiled. My doubled vision showed me a forked tongue, flickering between a muzzle full of sharp teeth. "I've a contract to fulfill."
"Then I owe you."
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"You do, aye." Another toothy smile, under the sad eyes. "Why else would I keep quiet and spot you the gear?"
"About that..." I let the words hang, an invitation.
She didn't care to explain herself. "Fair winds," she said, and strolled out of the library, boot heels clicking on the stone.
Burgida had found me, in itself a warning. Others couldn't be far behind. Paying a boy to deliver a note to my parents, I boarded an outbound vessel that same afternoon.
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Chapter 17 Aurelie
"Outside, Your Highness? At this hour?" The footman turned from Aurelie to Netta as if he hoped for a more sensible answer from the blind girl, although she, too, wore a coat, hat, and gloves. "In this weather?"
"A little fresh air before bed," Netta said. "We're only going as far as the garden, Barret."
The footman's face turned pink at the recognition. "Yes, made moiselle. Your Highness."
He opened the door, and frigid night air rushed in. Before Aurelie could take Netta's elbow, her friend strode down the steps and turned left at the bottom. "The Long Walk or the maze?"
"Maze," Aurelie said. Side by side, they walked down the flagstone path. Their breath made twin clouds of vapor, and their boots crunched the dried leaves that skittered along, pushed by the wind.
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As they reached the tall hedge around the maze, footsteps pounded behind them. Aurelie hailed the running footman. "What is it, Barret?"
"Mortal cold out, Your Highness," he said, looking at Netta. "Borrowed a pair of sentry capes for you and mademoiselle."
"How thoughtful of you," Aurelie said.
The footman draped the heavy bearskin capes over their shoulders. A square of golden light from the palace windows above them showed his concerned face. "You'll be wanting a lantern, ladies?"
"No, thank you." Mischief warmed Netta's voice. "Day or night, I promise not to lose the princess in the maze. Without the light, she'll have a better view of the stars."
"Yes, mademoiselle." Barret bowed.
"Shall we?" Netta offered her arm, and Aurelie accepted.
As they entered the maze, the leafless hedges blocked some of the wind's force. Netta sniffed. "What do you smell?" Aurelie asked.
"Oh." Netta laughed a bit self-consciously and pulled the cape's hood over her head. "The weather. Snow coming, I think. Tomorrow night, maybe sooner."
Aurelie sniffed, too. "All I smell is gunpowder from the cannons they've been firing at the practice range." The taste of it caught in her throat, reminding her of Dorisen and the fire. "The eagles didn't like it. Only Paumera and Montbrai would come to the glove today, and I can't blame them. The noise gave me a headache."
"I meant to ask you about the training," Netta said. "You seemed distracted before supper."
"Mm." Aurelie paused. "Left here or right?"
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"Whatever you like."
Aurelie turned left, then left again. She trailed her gloved hand across the wall of bare twigs. The leafless hedges seemed ghostly in the starlight, as if, with a little imagination, a person could part them like smoke and walk into another world. The Fae realm, perhaps. "You can really keep all our changes of direction in your head?"
Netta chuckled. "Now you're asking?"
"I suppose the footman would wonder what had happened to us."
"If you don't get around to saying what's bothering you, Barret will no doubt come to our rescue," Netta said. "The capes will only buy us so much time."
Aurelie blew out a puff of breath. "You're right, of course. It's an awkward subject. I didn't want Elise or the housekeeper or your m
other interrupting."
"I gathered that. And I have news for you, too. Go ahead, you first."
"I feel so silly, but there's no one else I can ask, and I have to tell someone," Aurelie blurted out. "Is there any reason...have you heard of the Fae and a mortal... is Loic courting me?"
"What?" Netta stopped, pulling Aurelie off-balance.
"I know, I know." Aurelie fanned her burning cheeks. "It sounds so odd. Conceited, almost, to think such a thing."
Netta dropped Aurelie's arm and retreated into her cape, like a turtle into its shell. "Why do you ask?"
"The kissing," Aurelie said. As a muffled squeak emerged from Netta's hood, Aurelie bit her lip. "I didn't want to distress you, Netta,
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so I haven't mentioned it, but...It's warmer, walking. You don't mind, do you?" She peered at her friend, but darkness and bearskin hid Netta's expression.
"No, you'd better tell me." Netta marched forward, and Aurelie skipped after her, relieved to get this out in the open.
"So, the first couple of times it was lovely, melty and delicious ... anyway, I liked it very much. Not proper, you're right. I told myself 1 should put a stop to it. But Loic, you know, those irresistible violet eyes... and he's grown up, like we have, so it wasn't like kissing the little drac who cut up his nurse's aprons for pirate flags and put spiders down our backs."
Netta nodded.
"It's just that, lately, he's acting so peculiar! He doesn't want me dancing with farfadets or lutins, only him. He keeps suggesting I might like to see other parts of the Fae world. The other night, I thought for a moment that he might not take me home when I asked. As if I would abandon Jocondagne, and Father, with everyone on the brink of war!"
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