The Wraith and the Rose

by C. J. Brightley

  One of the other fairies tossed a burst of magic at the ring of stones, and the air blazed into flames which danced in fantastical shades of violet and cerulean.

  “How did you find the children?” said one of the fairies. “I thought you were at a wedding.”

  Lord Willowvale gave a low, scornful chuckle. “I was. Lilybeth Hathaway, now Mrs. Overton, was a wealth of information.”

  Theo’s heart broke a little more.

  “Did you learn anything else useful?” the fairy continued.

  Theo could not see the faces of the other fairies clearly, but this one seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps they had passed in a corridor once.

  Lord Willowvale tipped back his glass and drank half of it. He muttered something indistinct, then said more audibly, “His swordsmanship tells me he’s trained with a Fair noble. No human is that fast without Fair training, and he used that defense Barberry introduced ten years ago.”

  A sick sense of dread came over Theo.

  The third fairy, whose voice Theo recognized with a shock as that of His Majesty Oak Silverthorn himself, said, “That is indeed useful. Lord Larch, you will undertake that side of the investigation.”

  “I am honored, Your Majesty,” the other fairy said.

  “What else, Lord Willowvale?” said the Fair king.

  The fairy drained his glass and tossed it into the fire, where it shattered, producing scarlet sparks that danced among the flames for a moment before disappearing. “He has at least one Fair ally in the human world. It might be that young one you discovered. I saw two guests wearing Fair-made glamours at the wedding, but I couldn’t see through the glamour, and I wouldn’t have recognized that one if I had seen him. One of them is likely to be the Rose’s Fair ally; the other could have been a human wearing a glamour, or another one of our kind. I don’t know if that’s the one who taught him the Barberry defense or not; if so, you may not find your quarry here, Lord Larch.” He rearranged himself on the stone bench, and his profile, hard and tight, was visible to Theo as a silhouette against the fire. “I wish you all the best in the search. We shall put the Rose to the flame and see how he burns.”

  Theo had never exactly met the king, but he had heard him speak once several months before, and on two occasions before the war with Aricht. To hear Lord Willowvale now speaking to him with such familiarity made Theo lament again the changes in the Fair Court in recent years.

  His Majesty Silverthorn leaned forward, and the light caught his cheek for just a moment, though Theo could not see his expression around Lord Willowvale’s shoulder. “Your service to the crown will be rewarded in due time, Lord Willowvale. Your zeal has not gone unnoticed.”

  All the while this conversation had gone on, Theo had carefully felt for the human presences within the manor and palace and surrounding grounds.

  The presence was so distant, and so surrounded by Fair presences, that there was no hope of rescuing the poor children tonight. Not without a disguise and a plan.

  Theo slid silently back behind the tree and into the veil.

  For a moment Theo only stood there, letting the successive waves of misery shake him, before he began to walk back toward the human world.

  Time was much shorter than he had hoped if Lord Larch was now seeking out a Fair collaborator. Cedar had been discreet, of course, but eventually he would be discovered.

  Juniper, too, had been sighted, although not yet identified. Lord Willowvale would undoubtedly continue the hunt for Theo’s young Fair friend, and the search would likely center upon the Overton estate.

  And Lily.

  His mind shied away from the agony of her betrayal. What had she told Lord Willowvale that led him to discover the children? At the very least, she had been careless, after countless admonitions and pleas to not speak of them at all. Certainly not to Willowvale, of all people!

  At worst, she had deliberately betrayed them.

  When a stone serpent snapped at his face in the dark, he barely caught it before it buried its fangs in his cheek. He wrenched it from the wall and threw it to the ground, then stabbed it through the head with his sword. It made a high-pitched shriek as it died, then sank into the lichen-covered floor of the veil as if it had turned to water. The shriek echoed down the tunnels and back, gaining new depths, and something else roared in reply. A strange clicking reached Theo’s ears, like the sound of rat claws, if the rat were the size of a dog and galloped like a horse.

  Theo ran, his chest heaving, and finally stumbled out of the veil about half a mile from the children’s home, when the creature was far too close for comfort.

  It was long after midnight, and the air was cool and damp. He walked through the deserted streets toward the home. The familiar buildings now seemed strange and bleak in the silvery light, so different than the blue moon and pink streaks in the Fair sky.

  His horse had remained in the garden, eating much of the grass and half the vegetable garden. Now it was asleep in the rear corner.

  “Oh,” Theo sighed. “You poor animal. I’m so sorry.” He cajoled it into waking up and put the saddle blanket and saddle on, cinched just tightly enough that it wouldn’t slide off. Then he led the horse out of the garden.

  He walked home, leading the horse the whole way. After such a fast ride, with no warmup, earlier in the day, he didn’t want to strain it further.

  An hour later, he reached the barn. He threw his beautiful jacket, now much abused, over the stall wall and picked up a brush.

  He leaned his head against the animal’s side for a moment before he began.

  “Theo?” came a whisper from the darkness.

  “Yes?” He turned.

  “Did you get there in time?” asked Juniper.

  Theo swallowed. “Not entirely. Some of the children were taken back to the Fair Lands. I went after them, and—” His throat closed, and he swallowed. “I could not get to them, not without a disguise and a plan. I heard Willowvale and Silverthorn talking, with Larch, if you know him. Cedar’s position has become much more risky, and yours is becoming more so, too.”

  Juniper nodded wordlessly. He took the brush from Theo’s hand. “I’ll brush him,” he said quietly. “May I take off the glamours?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Juniper began brushing down the horse with long, sure strokes. “If I may say so, sir, I think you would benefit from sitting down now.”

  Theo made a choked sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He leaned against the stall wall and slid down to sit in the straw. “I am a little tired, I suppose. But I cannot sleep for what I have learned.”

  “What is that?” Juniper spoke softly, as if Theo were a skittish horse.

  Theo swallowed hard. “I do not want to believe it. But Lord Willowvale implicated Lily in his discovery of the children’s home.”

  Juniper looked at him sharply. “Surely it was unintentional.”

  “I should like to think so.” Theo’s voice cracked. “But Willowvale did not give that impression in the least.”

  “He is not above deceiving you for his own ends.”

  “He didn’t know I was there.”

  Juniper’s hand trembled, and he said nothing else for several moments. “Be that as it may, you won’t be able to think of anything brilliant if you don’t rest at least a little. I’ll finish with Milo. Sleep, eat a little, and I’ll be ready to do your bidding when you wake.”

  Theo let his head fall against the wood. “Juniper, you are a gem among both fairies and men. I am glad to know you.” He shoved himself to his feet and rubbed the horse’s nose, then patted the young fairy on the shoulder as he squeezed past him out of the stall.

  He retrieved his jacket and headed for the house.

  Chapter 23

  The First Days of Wedded Bliss

  Breakfast ended in a painful silence.

  Sir Theodore stood. “You ought to talk about it,” he said quietly.

  Theo looked Lily square in the eyes. “What is there to say?” h
e murmured.

  Lily put down her fork. She could not bear his icy facade any more. To go from his kindness and warmth of the previous months to this was not something she could comprehend, much less endure.

  “I think I will go for a walk in the garden,” she whispered.

  “Do you not want to finish your breakfast?” asked Lady Overton.

  Lily said tremulously, “I am no longer hungry.” She stood and curtsied to Theo. If he were to be excruciatingly formal, she would return the courtesy.

  What did he think she had done?

  The question ate at her, but she was not ready to face it. He had asked her about Lord Willowvale the previous night.

  She fled into the rose garden. The sun was warm on her face, and the morning birdsong was as soothing as anything could be.

  Surely Theo did not think she favored Lord Willowvale? At their very wedding? She had been polite to the fairy, nothing more. Anyway, such an accusation did not make sense; Theo had seen her, danced with her, after Lord Willowvale had been gone, and he had not seemed upset then.

  Something else had happened.

  She continued walking, finding new vignettes of cultured beauty at every turn. There was a white alcove, full of white Iceberg roses, baby’s breath, white camellias, snowy anemones, and a fragrant gardenia. There was a little fountain surrounded by purple and blue flowers, and a pair of white iron chairs and a petite matching table surrounded by a profusion of pink and coral roses.

  Lily focused on the exploration; the overwhelming beauty of the garden helped push her emotions back a little so that she could think.

  Had Lord Selby said something to him? What could it be? But Theo had seemed perfectly happy after Lord Selby had departed.

  Theo had received a message which had come through Anselm, and that had prompted his departure. But even then, he had not seemed as angry, only hurried and concerned. Only when he returned had he been… angry.

  She sat on a hidden bench surrounded by banks of rambunctious purple rhododendrons and let the tears she had been holding in begin to slide down her cheeks.

  A shadow fell over her and she looked up.

  She gave a startled little shriek, and the fairy did likewise.

  The fairy’s appearance changed faster than thought, and she was left blinking at him, half-risen from her seat.

  Without a word, he fled down a path in the garden.

  “Wait!” she called after him.

  There was no reply, and he did not return.

  Lily sat down slowly, trying to replay the moment in her mind. The fairy had seen her, cried out, and disappeared.

  Why would a fairy be afraid of her?

  She had barely gotten a split-second glimpse of him, more an impression than an actual image. A narrow face, wide eyes of a bright blue more teal or turquoise than any human could boast, and wild curls of deep violet.

  Maybe that was the glamour, and the human face was his true face. She blinked, trying to remember him clearly. A slight build no taller than herself, and quite young. Hair of golden blond, and fair skin. Blue eyes, a human blue, not the improbable gem-like turquoise.

  She sat with her hands in her lap, listening to the birds sing over the hum of insects and rippling murmur of the fountain.

  Lily collected herself at last, prodded into action by the edges of hunger in her belly and the growing warmth of the day. She stepped quietly out of the little alcove and tried to get her bearings. The garden was vast, and this section was unfamiliar to her. She could not see the manor house, surrounded as she was by enormous bushes, so she began walking back the direction she had come.

  Several minutes later she had figured out where she was and headed toward the great house that she had imagined would someday feel like home.

  She found the patio empty and turned toward her suite without meeting anyone until nearly running into Anselm at the top of the stairs.

  “Mrs. Overton,” he said with a bow. “Mr. Overton asked me to send a tray up to your room.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you,” she said. “I… what message did you bring to him yesterday?”

  The man blinked, and his expression grew more carefully neutral. “I am not at liberty to say, my lady.”

  “He was happy before it, though, I think.”

  The servant bowed, hiding his face. “Begging your leave, my lady, it is not my place to speculate or tell tales.”

  Lily bit her lip. “That’s true. I’m sorry. I only wanted to know what had happened. He seemed angry at me when he returned.” The statement was her gentle attempt to probe for any information, but Anselm was entirely too savvy for it to be effective.

  He said only, “Mr. Overton’s business is his to share, if he chooses to. Not mine.”

  She nodded, and he bowed again, then strode away.

  Lily found the promised tray in the shared sitting room. Theo was nowhere to be found, which gave her a twinge of intense relief and, simultaneously, a deep sense of desolation.

  She ate on the couch. Perhaps she might invite her mother for tea, and her mother might have good advice. Lady Hathaway was wise and kind, and Lily felt she needed more wisdom than she possessed at this moment.

  When she finished eating, she went to the window and looked out at the garden.

  The elevated viewpoint helped her get a better sense of the paths in the garden, and she realized that much of what she had walked that morning was part of a larger, symmetrical area of plantings nearest the house. To the left she could see the stable, and beyond that a training ring, with white-painted wooden jumps set up for horses. The large paddocks extended beyond that, rising to a distant hill; beyond that hill, though she did not know it, was Lord Selby’s ancestral manor.

  A movement caught her eye, and she looked back toward the stable to see Theo emerge. He strolled into the garden with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and his shoulders slumped.

  Lily’s heart went out to him, even as her own wounded spirit protested that she had also been wronged. He looked so miserable, and that was so un-Theo-like, that it struck her as deeply wrong.

  Then another movement caught her eye, and she sucked in a surprised breath. The young man—fairy—who had surprised her earlier slipped out of the bushes and approached Theo.

  How very odd! Did Theo know he was a fairy, or was he deceived by the glamour? The glamour would have fooled Lily, if she had not seen him for half a second without it. Was it the same fairy, or the same glamoured appearance, she had seen from a distance at the wedding, the one that had so perturbed Lord Willowvale?

  She had just resolved to go tell Theo that this young man was a fairy, when Theo looked directly up at the window.

  Their gazes caught.

  Theo bowed in acknowledgement of her attention, and then glanced up at her again. The youth beside him bowed to her as well. Theo held her gaze for one more moment, then nodded and continued walking, his attention on the young man, or fairy.

  Lily’s mind raced. Were all fairies as horrible as Lord Willowvale? The youth she had seen, with his eyes wide in surprise and perhaps fear, did not seem particularly fearsome.

  But he was not honest, either, if he were pretending to be human to Theo.

  She resolved that, no matter what Theo held against her, he needed to know that he was in danger.

  She hurried down the stairs and out into the garden again.

  They had walked quite some distance by the time she reached the location where she had seen them, and it took her nearly fifteen minutes of hurried walking in the late morning heat before she managed to find Theo.

  The youth was nowhere to be seen, but Theo must have heard her coming, for he turned to face her. He bowed formally.

  “Mrs. Overton,” he murmured, and the name, though she loved it, felt like a slap in the face.

  Lily was quite hot by now, and the exertion and heat and fear had made her cross as well.

  “Mr. Overton,” she said grumpily, with a curtsy, then immediately
repented of her irritability. “I am sorry to disturb you, since I am sure you must be busy. But I saw something that I thought you should know.”

  “What is that?” He swallowed and smiled, and although it didn’t reach his eyes, she saw that it cost him, and that grieved her anew.

  “This morning, when I was sitting in the garden alone, the young man you were just speaking with surprised me.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think he’s a fairy,” she said, her throat feeling tight. “I don’t know what he means here, but for just an instant, I saw him without his glamour, and I think he’s a fairy.”

  Theo said, “Why would a fairy be here?”

  She blinked at him. “I am sure I don’t know, but I thought you ought to be aware of it. He cannot be honest, if he’s wearing a glamour before you and pretending to be human.”

  Theo’s gaze flickered, and he murmured, “Would you walk with me in the garden for a moment, my love?”

  She swallowed and stepped forward to tuck her hand in his arm, which he had offered to her with perfect courtesy.

  “Were you frightened?” he asked quietly, without looking at her.

  She took a deep, tremulous breath and let it out. “Only a little. He seemed frightened of me, and it is hard to be frightened of someone when they flee so quickly. But…” She glanced up at him. “I know not what I have done to make you so cold to me. I wish you would let me know so that I might repent of it.” She trembled, not daring to look up again. “Although you seem to hate me so suddenly, I do not wish you to be deceived by someone you trust. I believe he is a fairy; if he is not, he presented me with the glamour of a fairy, and I cannot understand why he would have done that and then given me his true face and then fled. Might he be the same person Lord Willowvale chased at the reception?”

  Theo was silent for so long that she did, at last, dare to glance up at him. His face was stony, as if any crack in the facade would lead to its utter dissolution.

  He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together. She waited, feeling that patience was her best course of action.