by A W Hartoin
Another woman spoke up. She wore an emerald necklace. The stones were bigger than my ears. “Things are not going to change the way you think they will, Ibn. You must honor the contract. His Majesty demands it.”
“I know what His Majesty demands.” Ibn introduced each of the fairies in the room, but I didn’t catch half their names. He kept turning his face from me. Plus, I felt awkward under their haughty stares; I wanted to run out of the room. I’d never thought about my clothes much before. When we were still at Whipplethorn Manor, we traded to get fabric and Mom made all our clothes. She still did, but now she used fabric she found around the Elliot house. My dress was made from an old shirt of Tess’s. I might as well have been wearing a rag.
Bentha kept his hand on his sword pommel the entire time. Those fairies weren’t any kind of threat, but Bentha’s needles were up and spiky. He glared at them with his lip twitching. They didn’t pay anymore attention to him than they did Ibn’s gargoyle, who’d hopped from Galiana’s shoulder to Ibn’s.
“Good day,” said Ibn. “I think Matilda’s on a schedule. Today I’m going to show them the family portraits.”
The fairies didn’t move.
“We have much to discuss,” said Jacques.
“And we have already discussed it.”
“You won’t change your mind?” asked the woman with emeralds.
“The king will demand your presence soon,” said another woman. She had a tiny hat perched on her curls. It looked like a silver bird’s nest complete with the bird, a fluffy blue one, and three golden eggs.
“We serve at the pleasure of the crown.”
Jacques leaned in and eyed me with his heavily kohled eye. “How did you find the vermillion? No one knows of this place outside the royal circle.”
Ibn took my arm. “She heard a rumor. I wonder where that came from.”
The fairies blushed furiously under their paint and Ibn quickly ushered me out of the room. We ended up in a small bedroom. Bentha stood guard at the door and I sat in a rough-hewn rocker.
“Who were they?” I asked.
“The royal retainers. The ones that are left anyway. The women with the hats are the royal milliners. The women without are the dressmakers. The men are the royal jewelers and watchmakers.”
“They don’t seem much like you.”
Ibn smiled and sat in front of me, taking my hands. “They aren’t. We vermillion are practical retainers. The only ones the royal family has to have. The rest are there for luxury. The king can afford them. No one else can. It gives them a certain status at court.”
“Why are they here?”
“To tell me to leave hiding and stand at the side of the king. The revolutionary factions have presented the king with The Declaration of the Rights of the Fae and All Creatures. The king has agreed to receive it. It’s a huge step. They’ve been trying to give the king this summary of rights since the beginning of the revolution. It’s never been received before.”
“And that’s a big deal?” I asked.
“It could mean the end of the revolution. If the king signs the declaration, all the fae will have equal rights in France, winged and unwinged, those with the power of speech and those without.”
“The sea serpents will be happy.”
“I can’t imagine a sea serpent at court, but, if the king signs, it will happen. Let’s begin,” said Ibn.
He led me through the endocrine system and other places in the body I hadn’t known existed. It took six hours, and when I was done, I could hardly hold up my head. Bentha had to carry me home like a baby. He leapt off of the last of the shoulders onto the steps of our apartment building and set me on my feet. I’d slept most of the way and rubbed my eyes. “That was fast.”
“You slept.” Bentha glanced around, his hand on his sword pommel.
A man jogged up the stairs past us and opened the door. Bentha jumped on his shiny black shoe and I flew behind him. The man only went to the floor below ours, so we had to go up the elevator shaft. Bentha was filthy by the time we squeezed through a crack in the wall on our floor. I walked with him to the apartment door, biting my lip. I’d been much more tired than the day before and Bentha had said he was going to wait about telling my parents the truth about the treatment and see how it went. I thought it went well. It was easier to picture the cells and illness than before, but my leg had started hurting again. It was swelling. I could feel it in my boot. The swelling would probably come with the pus. With Bentha’s sense of smell, he could probably detect it.
We reached the door and I grabbed his arm before he could climb to the keyhole. “Have you decided about the treatment? Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”
“I will not. Only because you will not stop under any circumstances. I won’t give them anxiety needlessly.”
“Thank you.”
“I only hope this is the right decision.”
“It is. You heard Ibn. In less than three weeks, I’ll be able to do the cure in one sitting and it will be over.”
“Three weeks is a long time.”
I nodded as the picture of the seers under attack popped into my head. I willed it away and flew up to the keyhole.
I checked on Miss Penrose and Lrag first. They were still sleeping, but Lrag’s color had deepened another shade. I took Miss Penrose’s pulse. It was the same as before, but Ibn had said the change would be gradual. Bentha hopped up on the sill after I downed a cup of white willow.
“You must see this.” He bounded away and I followed him to Judd’s room. The smell of burning rubber and cloth hung heavy in the air. Iris was there sitting by the frying pan that still contained two fat dragons.
“What the heck? Why are they still here?” I asked.
“I got to keep them,” said Iris, grinning ear to ear.
“I can’t believe Mom and Dad let you.”
Mom flew down from the Marfisis’ shelf. “We didn’t.”
“And I’m grounded for the rest of my life,” said Judd from the bed.
One of the dragons belched and slapped its tongue into the dish beside Iris. A cloud of cinnamon puffed into the air and blocked out the rubber smell for a second.
Bentha stalked over to the pan and hopped on the side. “What have you done, you rapacious reptiles?”
The dragons ignored him and farted.
“Where’s the exterminator? We saw him show up this morning,” I said.
Judd pointed to a burned section on the rug. Two foot-sized black marks.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes. Thanks to the Home Depot fairies,” said Mom. “They rigged up a hose and sprayed the dragons before those things incinerated him.”
“He had poison with him,” I said.
“They ate it. Loved it. Best thing they ever had.”
“Is he coming back?”
“No, he isn’t,” said Iris. “We don’t need him. I’ve got it all under control.”
“You call that under control. They tried to kill a human.”
She smiled and dumped a cup of cumin on the plate. The purple dragon sniffed and shot out his tongue. It landed and I was in a cloud of cumin.
“See? They’re sweet. They only want their treats.”
“They’re going to kill us,” I said.
“They could’ve already killed us, but they didn’t. They love us. I can tell.”
“Yeah, the same way Coconut loves us as a snack for later.”
Iris stomped her foot. “You’re wrong and I’m going to prove it to you, just like with Coconut.”
“Just because that cat hasn’t eaten one of us yet, doesn’t mean you’re right,” I said.
“I’m going to take care of the dragons and get them into shape. They won’t kill us. I can see it in their eyes.” Iris walked right up and patted the red dragon’s nose. It was probably the bravest, if not the stupidest thing, I’d ever seen anyone do. I didn’t know Iris had it in her.
Mom had her hands in fists. “Stop doing that.”
�
�He loves me, really.”
The purple dragon cocked its head at me and blinked. It was no more friendly than a velociraptor in Jurassic Park, maybe less. Love was out of the question.
“So we’re keeping them?” I asked.
“Yes!” said Iris.
“Until we can figure out what to do,” said Mom.
“Judd could throw them out the window,” I suggested.
Judd sat up and pointed at his curtains. The bottoms were singed off. “I tried.”
“Wait,” said Iris. “I thought you said I could do it.”
“That was before they tried to kill the exterminator,” I said.
Mom took my hand. “You’re not going to get anywhere with her. Why don’t you just go do the spell on Penrose?”
I nodded and left, leaving Iris explaining push-ups to a pair of fighting dragons and Judd staring at the ceiling, looking like he wished he’d left them in the kitchen to get stepped on.
I performed the spell and went to bed. The next day I got up, went to the catacombs, got trained/exhausted, came home to see my little sister teaching dragons, and went to bed. Life continued that way for the next two and a half weeks. Miss Penrose didn’t die and she even started improving a little with every session.
On the seventeenth day I was patted awake by Lrag. He smiled down at me, his cheeks once again full and red. “Time to get up. We have a full day ahead.”
I yawned. “We?”
“I’m going with you today. My color is fully back.”
“What about the soles of your feet?”
“Perfect red.” He lifted me to my feet. “I’m well.”
I threw my arms around him. Well, as around as they would go, and felt his heart beat strong against my cheek. He gave me a cup of Lucrece’s special tea and looked at my foot barely touching the floor.
“How’s your leg?” he asked.
“Well enough.”
“Show me.”
“You don’t need to see it,” I said, avoiding his eyes.
“Now I have to see it.” He put a finger under my chin and made me look at him. “If we’re going out there, we have to know the fitness of our troops.”
He was right, of course, but I still didn’t want to show him. My leg had gotten progressively worse. It was nearly as swollen and discolored as it had been right after the horen skewered me.
Lrag sat me down, but his hands were too big to undo my bandages, so I gave in and did it myself. He frowned at the swelling.
“The sooner we get you out of Paris the better,” he said.
“So you think it’s Paris, too?”
“I think the residual horen poison in your leg is reacting to the misery and anger in this city. Do you want the foam?”
The rejuvenation spell pink foam was the only thing that seemed to help my leg. I’d smeared it on twice and suffered from the meat smell, but it controlled the swelling and oozing to some extent. That doesn’t sound like such a great treatment, I know, but if I hadn’t discovered the extra healing properties by being covered in the stuff, I was sure I’d be yellow and unable to learn Miss Penrose’s spell. I never thought I’d be so happy to have been covered in meat foam.
I finished wrapping my leg and flew to Judd’s room. He was still snoring, but Iris was on the floor with the dragons. Each one had two cans of mandarin oranges and were doing what Iris called wingups. They had their wingtips on each can and supported their weight, which was still considerable, up and down.
“Look,” Iris said. “They’re getting so much better.”
And they were. The dragons’ bellies no longer dragged on the ground and they could walk properly. Once that happened I expected the dragons to either attack or fly away, but they did neither. They stayed, eating their beloved spices and getting trained by Iris, who in an effort to be a good example worked out with them. She slimmed down more than I ever thought possible. I could even detect a cheekbone where there’d only been plump rosy roundness before.
The dragons dropped to the floor and panted with their moist tongues slobbering on the carpet. They looked miserable. I would’ve been.
“Why do they do it?” I asked.
“Because they love us,” said Iris with a giant grin.
I nodded, like I agreed. But these were fighting dragons. The Speciesapedia said they were testy and very territorial. They didn’t want anything to do with other species in the fae and only put up with humans for the spices and warmth.
“Have you figured out how to get them off Evan and Rebecca yet?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
Once the dragons lost a little weight, we figured out why their stink effected Evan and Rebecca more than everyone else. The dragons flew onto their bed every night and slept curled around their necks farting away. Once we got rid of their steady diet of poison, the gas got better and Judd’s parents were sleeping like normal, but the dragons insisted on sleeping on their necks.
“Okay.” Iris patted the red dragon’s snout and it stroked her fluffy hair with one of its whiskers. “Five more and you can have a treat.”
Hiss.
“I have roach spray.”
The dragons went up on their wingtips and did their exercises.
“You’re giving them roach spray? They’ll start stinking again.”
“It’s just for treats, so it doesn’t make them gassy. They love it.”
“Whatever you say. I’m going to breakfast. No roach spray for me.”
I flew to the kitchen to find Evan and Rebecca sipping coffee. The bags under their eyes were gone, but they stared glumly at an empty plate.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Marie,” said Evan.
“I know what you mean. She’s a total pain, but she’s so good at picking out the best pastry. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the kids while she’s in the Loire with Gram. I can’t go anywhere.”
Evan sipped his coffee and grimaced. “She makes the best espresso, too. You could ask Earl and Stanley to stay with Judd.”
“I’m not that desperate. Besides, they went with Marie. Earl says they’re going to tour chateaux.”
“Do they even know what chateaux are?”
“I seriously doubt it.”
I found a few crumbs of pastry and ate them. Judd stumbled in and announced that he was going to poach some eggs.
“Since when do you like poached eggs?” asked Rebecca.
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you making them?”
Judd growled and slammed a saucepan on the stove. “Maybe because I can’t do anything else.”
Evan stood up. “You are grounded until you decide to tell us what happened to the exterminator and why on earth you set your curtains on fire.”
“Don’t forget about the burnt carpet,” said Rebecca.
“And the carpet.”
“This stinks,” said Judd.
“Yes, it does,” said Rebecca. “I can still smell that carpet in our room. Are you ready to explain?”
“I can’t. You can’t understand.”
Evan and Rebecca crabbed and left the room as Iris flew in on the back of the purple dragon. “Are the eggs ready yet?”
“No,” said Judd. “Why am I making eggs for the dragons? Aren’t they spice dragons?”
“Because eggs are good for their fighting strength,” said Iris.
Judd cracked two eggs in the boiling water and set the timer. “Yeah, that’s what we want, stronger fighting dragons.”
The dragons walked around the table, eating crumbs and snorting fire. The red one had his tail in an odd little coil at the end and every once in a while he licked it.
“What’s wrong with his tail? I asked.
“His name is Percy,” said Iris. “And nothing’s wrong with his tail.”
“There’s something wrong with his name,” said Judd. “Percy sucks.”
Percy shot a stream of flame at Judd and set the tip of his bangs on fire. Judd yelped and stu
ck his head under the faucet. “Stop doing that!”
Iris and I burst into laughter. It felt so good to laugh, like nothing bad could happen and the cure was practically in the bag. Percy trotted over and delicately licked Iris’s forehead. Since his tongue was the size of my sister’s head, I wouldn’t have thought such a gentle thing could be done.
“See? He loves me,” said Iris. “And so does Penelope. They are very loving dragons.”
“I guess so.”
Percy curled up next to us and chomped on the poached egg Judd put in front of him. His tail wrapped around his body and he gave a little black something a lick. I leaned forward. “What is that?”
“The commander’s egg.”
“Are you crazy?” I leapt at the egg and it disappeared in the coils. Percy hissed at me.
“Percy babysits all the time.”
“That’s insane. What if he eats it?”
Judd sat down with dripping hair. “He won’t eat it. I think he talks to it.”
I stared as the commander’s egg emerged out of the dragon’s coils. Percy glared at me, his nostrils completely filled with orange flames, and he gave the egg another lick.
“I have a weird feeling about this,” I said to Judd.
He shrugged. “Me, too, but they take care of that egg like it’s their baby.”
Mrs. Marfisi flew in with a small package. With a wary glance at Percy, she landed and gave it to me. “I made these for you.”
In the package was a beautiful dress made of the same shimmering green fabric as the cocktail dress she’d worn and another pair of boots, black leather and covered in bands of crystal.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Put them on. You may as well learn in style.”
Iris cocked her head to the side. “Mr. Marfisi’s back.”
“Back from where?” I said.
“He’s been going to the market lately.”
My chest got tight. “That’s too dangerous. If he’s recognized, they’ll kill him.”
“It’s been quiet lately,” said Mrs. Marfisi. “And he’s wearing a disguise.”
Mr. Marfisi flew into the kitchen. He weaved back and forth and crashed into the table. We ran to him and rolled him over. His aristocratic face had deep scratches down both sides and there was blood spatter covering his clothes.