by Emma Savant
But Imogen didn’t seem like she was about to lock me up here or throw me into some deep dark pit hidden in this black underground palace. She strode forward. In the center of the empty room, a waterfall stood, lit by bright white lights and falling in a smooth, glassy sheet from the ceiling.
I was getting just a little bit sick of waterfalls.
“I’m just a mediocre faerie,” Imogen said. She sounded like she wasn’t talking to me, but didn’t care anymore whether I listened in. “I’m nothing special. But Kelda accepts me for who I am, and she’s given me opportunities that I’d never find anywhere else. This isn’t perfect, but I’m not the kind of person who’s going to find anything better.”
I wanted to smash the waterfall into a thousand pieces like it was glass.
“Did Kelda tell you that?” I said.
She ignored me and walked around to the other side of the waterfall. It fell into a white-tiled circular pool, studded here and there with bright circular mirrors.
“I need Kelda’s wand,” I said.
Forget about strategy and diplomacy and trying to slowly talk her around to it. I was done—beyond done. Anyone who could take my Imogen and turn her into the cynical, insecure girl in front of me didn’t deserve to keep her magic for another single second.
“You have it, don’t you?” I said. “Or at least you know where it is.”
“What kind of faerie leaves her wand at home?” Imogen said coldly.
“Not that wand,” I said. “The one she has hidden. I know it’s here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would I tell you that?”
“Because you remember what you used to be like before she got her nasty little claws into you,” I said.
Not that I could blame it all on Kelda. There was enough responsibility to go around.
I swallowed. “Gen, I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” I said.
“No big deal,” she said. She gestured out toward the room. “As you can see, I’m doing perfectly fine.”
“You are not,” I said. “You’re not doing any better than I am. And I’m crap without you.”
Her eyes met mine for the briefest second, and for a second, I almost saw the hint of a smile on her lips. But it was only almost—nothing more than a bit of wishful thinking brought on by stress and the way my arms hurt from wanting to hug her.
“What do you want her wand for?” Imogen said. Her voice was lazy, almost bored.
My fingertips pressed against the handle of my own wand.
How had I gotten here?
I was so tired of this game. I was tired of trying to be clever, and tired of trying to act like every second of this conversation didn’t kill me. I had to tell her the truth.
“Someone has to stop Kelda,” I said. “We can do it, if we have her wand. We’ll take her powers.”
A flash of shock crossed Imogen’s face. I felt the horror that filled her, and I waited in silence for the initial blow to pass.
“Queen Amani gave her a choice,” I said. “She can call off everything that’s happening out there, or she can give up her powers. It’s a no-win situation for her, but people will stop being frightened out of their homes either way.”
Imogen wrapped her arms around herself. I realized suddenly that it was cold in here, cold and empty and dark. What would it be like when Imogen took over? I couldn’t stand the thought of her living in this chilly silence as the years stretched on.
“I need your help,” I said.
She watched me intently, eyes narrow.
“Come over here,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Imogen said. “You don’t understand what you’re giving up.”
An urgency entered her limbs as she leaned forward and reached out into the waterfall at the center of the room. The water split around her hand, leaving an arcing triangle of empty space below.
Cautiously, I stepped toward her. The water splashed into the pool at our feet, casting rippling white light up onto Imogen’s face. Her skin gleamed like a moon, and for a moment, I saw a hint of Kelda in Imogen’s face.
“Stand opposite me,” she ordered.
The water rippled between us. Through it, she looked even less like the Imogen I knew. Her pale face shifted, and I saw what her future would look like. She’d stay here, in this dark, beautiful place, and she’d hide behind the waterfall, and her face would ripple and she’d give coins to whomever she thought deserved them.
It was no life.
“You don’t have to stay here,” I said.
She shushed me. I bit the tip of my tongue and waited.
“Watch the water,” Imogen said, voice low. “Watch what you’ll be giving up if you do this.”
I stared at the water, though really, I was staring at her. She was barely three feet away from me, and yet she felt so distant that I knew I couldn’t reach out and touch her no matter how hard I tried.
As I watched, the water distorted her face, melting the pale oval and spreading it in trails of light.
For a moment, the waterfall seemed to reflect my own face. I stood in front of it, and then my likeness backed away and disappeared into shadow.
And then a spot of light stirred. Behind the waterfall, or perhaps in its reflection, the water began to show me images.
I saw myself, sitting on a twin bed in a small room while rain poured outside. Potted plants surrounded me as I read a giant book that lay open on the bed. I looked enthralled and like nothing in the world could distract me from what I was doing.
The images melted and shifted. I was there again, standing in a botanical garden full of bushes exploding with vivid flowers. I examined one of the flowers, leaning in so close that my nose almost brushed against the fuzzy yellow stamens. Another figure walked into the picture; a moment later, I recognized it as Lucas. He leaned over my shoulder. The version of me in the garden jumped, startled, then hit him lightly on the arm and burst out laughing.
The picture changed again. Now, I stood, surrounded by lush green vegetation, with a turquoise sea behind me. I crouched down and snapped a photo of one of the thousands of plants, then carefully clipped a leaf and dropped it in a plastic bag. I stood, stretched, and looked out towards the sea. A stray strand of hair whipped around my face. It had been tugged loose from the breeze; the rest of my hair was up in a ponytail. My wand was nowhere to be seen.
In every image, the look on my face made my stomach flip over.
That was what it would feel like to be happy. Not temporarily happy, or superficially happy, but actually content in a way I suspected not everyone got to experience. The Olivia in these images lived a life of privilege and purpose and joy.
I watched as the picture altered. I was older in this one, and stood in front of a class of college students not much older than I was now. I wrote the words Ecotourism – pros/cons on a whiteboard, then waved up toward a photograph projected onto a screen. It showed low, dry-looking trees and a muddy river where a small herd of elephants drank. My older face was lit up, my eyes sparkling in a way I’d never seen in a mirror.
“Trade me places,” Imogen said.
I jumped. Her voice brought me hurtling a million miles an hour back to the Oracle’s Fountain. I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to stay in these worlds. I wanted to step through the waterfall and slip into that Olivia’s shoes.
But the pictures were gone. The waterfall was back, and through it, Imogen stared at me.
I moved to her side. She circled the pool opposite me, her shoulders tense and raised like a cat’s.
It took only a moment this time. The waterfall shifted, and showed me as I was, almost as though it were a reflection. But in the reflection, I had the Oracle’s wand in my hand. The Olivia in the water turned and walked out, and the picture faded to black.
And then I was back. I stood in the garden opposite Amani, and we raised our wands and Kelda’s
wand together. There was a blinding flash of white-blue light. Again, the image faded.
When it returned, I sat in an elaborate room at a long polished conference table. Amani sat next to me; my dad was there too, and his boring coworker Charles, and a bunch of other Glims I recognized from dinner parties and company barbecues. My stomach dropped and clenched at the sight of them, but waterfall-Olivia’s face was intent. She leaned forward in her seat, and her eyes cut across to the face of the woman who was talking.
The image shifted, and there I was again, but this time, I looked different. My aura had changed. No longer green and mild, it had begun to take on curls of gold that swirled around me like curlicue grape vines. I stood in a room I recognized from the first time I’d met Amani. Multnomah Falls thundered by outside the enormous plate-glass window. Amani faced me and tossed a sparking gold spell in my direction. I whipped my wand out of my hair in one lightning motion. I expected to watch myself deflect the spell, or diffuse it, but instead I did something I’d never seen before. I caught the spell on the tip of my wand and balanced it there. A moment later, my wand swallowed the energy down. I grinned at Amani, and she rolled her eyes at me.
My face was different in these ones, too. There wasn’t contentment. There was nothing like the happiness I’d seen in the girl who’d bent down to take pictures of island greenery. Instead, my face lit up with a fierce sense of focus. I didn’t recognize that any more than I had the contentment.
Another image appeared. This time, I stood alone. I was older, barefoot, wearing a long cream-colored gown. My aura swirled out ten feet in every direction with gold and green. I wore a gold crown in my hair and held my wand aloft. I stood in a forest, and the trees themselves seemed to stretch out toward me.
And though I couldn’t see it, I knew somehow deep in my bones that the Glimmering world was safe. With that Olivia in charge, standing alone in the woods, Portland was protected and the magical world beyond the city borders was secure and as it should be. My family was in one piece. My friends were able to pursue their own lives without worrying about taking sides.
These were images of my possible futures, clearly, but neither of them looked like me. In the future, I would be replaced by Botanist Olivia or Faerie Queen Olivia.
No matter what I chose, I wouldn’t be there anymore.
And I had to choose now. The Oracle’s wand was a deeply personal object, imbued with the magic of one of the most powerful Glims in the world. I could walk out of here with it or without it. Either way, the waterfall was clear: My decision would affect everything.
“If you give me the wand,” I said, then trailed off.
Being Reginald Feye’s daughter was nothing compared to being the faerie who took down the Oracle. And if this happened, the Oracle would be gone. Her magic would disappear, and the whole city—dysfunctional as it now was—would be thrown even more out of balance. If the waterfall’s images were right, this would create enormous problems for the Council. As the one responsible for the Oracle’s downfall, they would turn to me.
The waterfall was a sharp reality check.
If I took the wand and did this, I would be committing to the Glimmering world.
And if I left it behind, I would never have to deal with any of this again. The world would sort itself out, or at least its problems would take place far from me. If I could be teaching college when my hair started to gray and loving it that much, things must be all right. Amani would take care of Kelda on her own, or maybe Kelda would break free and her crazy plan would work after all.
Or not.
“This doesn’t show me everything,” I said. “What happens to the Glim world if I walk away now?”
Imogen’s voice stayed cool, but an undercurrent of strength ran beneath it that made my arms prickle.
“What do you think?” she said. “There will be conflict, and not everyone will be happy. But then, you can never make everyone happy anyway. Kelda will take us to a different future. I’ll help her, and then I’ll become the Oracle. By then, the role of Oracle will be important.” She glanced down at me. “Much more important than that of Faerie Queen.”
“What happens to Amani?” I said.
Imogen shrugged one pale shoulder. “I’m sure she and Kelda will solve things between themselves,” she said. “I’ll stay out of it. You should, too.”
I stepped away from the waterfall. It seemed to hold all my choices, and I needed some distance and fresh air to think.
But there was no fresh air down here. Just shadows and pressure.
If I left, I could have the life I’d always dreamed about.
If I took the wand, I would never go to a Humdrum college. I’d never have a normal career, or work in conservation, or walk down the street without feeling different from the Humdrums who passed me.
If I took the wand, I’d be a walking cliché: the daughter of Reginald Feye, youngest godmother in a hundred years, heir to the Faerie Queen.
But I could do good for the Glimmering community; I could feel it, deep in my gut where I’d never felt anything until this last year. I would change things. Maybe we’d come to Kelda’s conclusions and decide to be open about our world. Maybe we’d lock everything back down and keep our secrets forever. The decision didn’t matter; the only important thing was the knowledge in my bones that wherever we landed would be something we as a people agreed on together.
I’d stop being a godmother, but I’d keep making people’s wishes come true. And that would come at the cost of my own.
The tension between my futures made me feel as if my skin was trying to pull me apart.
“You can have what you want,” Imogen said. “You’ve always talked about getting away and doing your plant stuff like a ‘normal’ person. This is your chance. We can all have what we want.”
“What does the waterfall show you?” I said.
I stepped around its glassy curtain to see her clearly. Her gaze was distant, almost soft, as she looked toward its shimmering surface.
Over her shoulder, I could just make out the images Imogen was seeing. They were faded and hard to discern from this angle, but the gist was clear: Imogen would take over the Fountain. Swarms of sprites in every body of water in Portland would attend her and obey her every word. The city would revere her; the world would look up to her as a ruler.
Imogen had never been hurting for glamour or influence, but the look on her face as she stared at her future was that of a starving person.
She’d always been the littlest Dann, the tail end of a family of beautiful, accomplished sisters. She was as smart as any of them, but maybe she didn’t see that like I did. She’d cheated on her Proctor Exam, after all. The Oracle had said she’d been afraid she wouldn’t pass.
My Imogen had never seemed afraid.
But my Imogen wasn’t this girl. It was impossible to tell whether I’d ever really known her at all.
We’d been best friends, but I’d hidden Amani’s invitation to be her heir from Imogen. Was it so impossible to believe that she’d been hiding her fears from me?
“I’m supposed to be crowned her official heir at the Rose Galas,” Imogen said. “She arranged for me to be Rose Empress, and we were going to use the Galas as a way for me to meet all the right people and solidify my position. We were going to hold a ceremony. She’s been sending her sprites all around the city to collect magic from Glims who don’t agree with her. They’ve been quietly skimming power off of people’s auras for months, and they’ve gathered a lot. She was going to give me some of that magic. And that was only the beginning. If you leave here with the wand, nothing ever happens to me. I’m just Imogen.”
The disgust in her voice made me feel like someone had just kicked me in the gut. I wanted to hug her, but I didn’t dare touch her.
“I always liked Imogen,” I said.
“Everyone liked Imogen,” she said. “You can like someone who doesn’t matter. You just never respect her.”
“Is it worth
it, if mattering makes you this miserable?” I said. I stepped toward her, still fighting the impulse to put my arms around her thin, pulled-in shoulders.
She turned away from me, waving at the waterfall as she did so. The images melted away into nothingness. Clear water continued to fall peacefully into the pool like nothing had ever happened.
“I get it if you can’t help me,” I said. “I do. I want you to be happy.”
“If you take her wand, nothing else ever happens to me,” she said. “The role of Oracle is dissolved. A committee takes over.” She spat the word committee, and I couldn’t blame her.
If I took the wand, Imogen’s dreams were over.
If I didn’t, the Glim world was going to suffer. Maybe my family would too, and Lucas, and Elle and Kyle and everyone else.
But maybe that was the price we’d have to pay.
I let out a heavy sigh.
“Keep it,” I said.
She frowned at me.
I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head at her. “I’m not going to take all that away from you.”
The water rippled and splashed in front of us. Imogen stared at it as though it held all the answers, though no images played there now. Strain pulled at the corners of her mouth.
I had no idea how I was going to explain this to Amani. But then, maybe I wouldn’t have to. She seemed to regret whatever had happened between her and Kelda.
I wasn’t going to let us repeat their mistakes. If the whole world had to fall apart, so be it.
“Gen, I just want you to be happy,” I said.
This time, I did reach out. My fingertips landed softly on her arm. Silently, I urged her to smile, or turn to me. I watched for any sign of forgiveness, or optimism, or even confidence.
She shrugged my touch off.
“If you don’t take the wand, our whole world’s going to crash,” she said. She spoke so low that I was almost glad we were in the eerily quiet Fountain. The rippling of the waterfall was almost enough to drown out her voice. “Things will be good for me. I’ll be one of the only ones.”