Foxheart

by Claire Legrand

  Then she saw Sly Boots emerging from between two of the tree’s massive roots, crawling toward the Lady. His face was open and soft, his smile unfamiliar because it had been so long since he had looked anything but angry.

  He reached for the Lady’s hand, and she leaned closer, her flowing hair brushing against him.

  “Let go of me, Fox!” Quicksilver screamed, kicking and clawing. She thought him into the shape of the butterfly he had been chasing the previous day and ran for it, clambering over the tree roots toward the Lady. Sly Boots couldn’t be allowed to touch the Lady before she did, he just couldn’t—

  A sudden, sharp pain stabbed Quicksilver in the back. She cried out and tripped, fell between the roots, and caught a handhold in the bark at the last second. The snowy hare and cat skeletons, hissing and yowling, nipped up and down her spine through the pack.

  “Oh, be quiet!” she spat at them. Then she gritted her teeth and pulled herself back up onto the root—just in time to see Fox bounding across the roots toward Sly Boots and the Lady, barking madly. The fur of his ruff stood up in angry bristles.

  Now, so close, her head cleared, Quicksilver understood the Lady’s song:

  “The Lady in White guards the gate

  Starved for love and full of hate.

  Come closer, kiss our loyal ward.

  Put down your bow, put down your sword.

  The Lady in White was once our foe,

  Hair like silk and lips like snow.

  But now her heart is bound to bough.

  Only you can save her now.”

  Quicksilver! Fox cried. Don’t listen to her. She’s not what she appears to be!

  Slowly Quicksilver made her way across the giant tree’s roots toward the Lady. Sly Boots had snuggled into the Lady’s embrace, and she held him on her lap, stroking his hair. Her own long hair wrapped about his body in wispy tendrils. As Quicksilver approached, the Lady’s cheeks hollowed and her eyes darkened. A patch of scarlet bloomed on her chest, and the silky coils of her hair became fat and scaly—a wriggling mass of white, eyeless snakes.

  “The Lady in White was once our foe . . .

  Only you can save her now.”

  “I will save you,” Sly Boots mumbled dreamily, kissing the Lady’s gnarled, blistered hand. “Don’t worry, my darling.”

  The Lady looked at Quicksilver. Her cracked, bloody lips twitched with a small smile.

  Lightning-fast fear shot through Quicksilver. She raced toward them, leaping from root to root. She plunged her hands into the Lady’s writhing hair and yanked hard on the snakes holding Sly Boots close to the Lady’s bleeding chest. But the fat, icy-cold coils slipped from Quicksilver’s fingers. A snake slithered around her arm and sunk its fangs into the crook of her elbow. Red flashed before her eyes; a hot pain flew up her arm. She stumbled away, dizzy and seeing stars.

  We’ll come back for him. Fox’s warm weight pressed against her, keeping her upright. I can feel the mouse skeleton, can’t you? It’s close! We have to find it before it’s too late!

  Quicksilver concentrated, her mind fuzzy. Yes, she felt the tug of the skeleton, somewhere very near. The other monster skeletons were shrieking and clawing the inside of her pack; she feared they would soon tear it apart.

  But she could not leave Sly Boots. She was furious at him, he had been terrible to her, and by all rights she should leave him there to rot in the Lady’s arms. Everything inside her screamed at her to run—except for her traitorous heart, which kept her rooted to the spot.

  She wished, for a hopeless, frustrated moment, that she had never met any of these people, that she had run away from Anastazia the moment she saw her. No Anastazia, no Boots, no Olli or coven or Wolf King. Just her and Fox, forever, and no guilt or obligations or feelings to weigh her down.

  “Boots!” she cried, tugging on his arm. “Boots, come with me! Come on, you stupid boy!”

  The snakes wound around Sly Boots from head to toe, wrapping him into a cocoon of slithering white. His freckled face was turning blue. His breaths wheezed.

  Her head spinning, Quicksilver collapsed at the Lady’s feet, trying desperately to free Sly Boots’s legs. Snakes struck at her, biting her hands. Starbursts of pain danced beneath her skin. The enormous tree root beneath her suddenly seemed like a fantastic place to lie down for a nap. She watched, dazed, as snakes struck Fox’s paws and snout.

  “Boots, get up,” she said, fighting for breath. “Please get up! I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pounding weakly on the snakes wrapped around his ankles. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Do you seek the bones?” said a high, rasping voice.

  Quicksilver blinked up at the Lady, who glowed in the green forest light.

  “What bones?” she asked carefully.

  The Lady grinned, her smile rotten and black. “I see right through you. I see what you seek.”

  “Then why ask me?”

  “A mouse,” the Lady murmured. “First a hare, then a cat.” She licked her lips. “Now a mouse. I see right through you. You think you’re the first?”

  The skeletons in Quicksilver’s pack shrieked, jerking toward the Lady. Fox, panting, crawled to Quicksilver’s side.

  Master, I don’t like this—

  Quicksilver ignored him, forced her bloody, tingling hands into fists. “Are you going to help me or kill me?” she asked the Lady. “Or just sit here asking pointless questions?”

  The Lady inclined her head. “Perhaps the mouse came to me and asked to stay awhile. Perhaps I agreed, for I was lonely. Perhaps.”

  Quicksilver rose unsteadily to her feet. “Where is it?”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Do I—” Quicksilver followed the Lady’s black gaze. “Who, Boots? Absolutely not!”

  May not be the right answer, master, Fox suggested.

  “Er . . . yes. Yes.” Quicksilver patted Sly Boots’s leg. “I love him ever so much. We are . . . betrothed. Secretly. He is . . . a runaway prince, and I am a mere kitchen girl—”

  Fox winced. A little too far.

  “Yes, all right, fine. I love him,” snapped Quicksilver.

  “I can see that,” murmured the Lady. “I knew when I first saw you.” The snakes slithered aside so the Lady could kiss Sly Boots’s forehead. “I also loved, once. Long ago. Perhaps I could love again.”

  Fox whined, his ears flat. What in the name of all the stars—

  Quicksilver tried not to panic at the sight of Sly Boots’s blue face and closed eyes. “Do you . . . want Sly Boots?”

  The Lady laughed. Her breath smelled like layers of damp leaves rotting on a forest floor. “I want to go with you. With him.”

  Quicksilver shifted nervously. “I’m not sure that’s—”

  Suddenly, a dozen long, fat snakes shot out from the Lady and coiled around Quicksilver and Fox.

  Fox!

  “Find my heart,” whispered the Lady. “Free it. Take it with you, and give it to the boy, so he may guard it for the rest of his life. And you shall have your love, and your bones.”

  Then the Lady released them, and they fell between the tree’s roots into blackness.

  .33.

  BOUND TO BOUGH

  Fox hovered above her, a tiny golden wren, flitting back and forth.

  “Good, you’re awake,” he said. “On your feet. We need to find a way out of here.”

  Woozy, Quicksilver sat up. Her arms and hands still stung from snakebites, but Sly Boots depended on her. She couldn’t sit and cry about it. She shook her head to right her tilting vision.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Fox.

  “As all right as you are. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Under the Lady’s tree.”

  Quicksilver looked up at the web of twisting black roots overhead. Long strands of silver moss hung from them. Through spaces between the roots, she could just see the green world above.

  But here,
below, was a world of darkness and shadows. The tree’s tremendous roots formed knotted walls and arched passageways—a web of long and narrow tree caves. Water trickled past her in shimmering streams. Phosphorescent slugs and bats clung to the underside of the roots. Gigantic sunset-colored flowers bloomed in thick clusters, their petals gaping open like mouths and lined with tiny quivering lights.

  “Well . . . this is new,” said Quicksilver, hugging herself. The air sat thick and damp against her skin.

  Do you hear that, master? It’s that song again.

  Quicksilver listened. The song about the Lady in White was much clearer than it had been above. Quicksilver felt tears return to her eyes and impatiently swiped them away.

  Shall we follow it, Fox?

  It seems like a terrible idea, but I can’t think of a better one at the moment.

  Find my heart. That’s what the Lady said. Then she’ll give us the bones—and Boots.

  Do you think she was telling the truth?

  Even if she was lying, we have to try. I’m not leaving Boots, and if I don’t get that skeleton, these two will tear me to pieces.

  Fox put his front paw on her leg. I’ll wear it and give you a rest.

  Are you sure? You’re hurt, too.

  Fox licked her hand. Let me help.

  Quicksilver arranged the hissing pack on Fox’s back, tying the straps around his belly. Snakebites, raw and red, dotted his coat. A hot lump formed in her throat.

  Fox—

  And don’t you think it hurts me to see you bleeding, too? Fox bumped her arm with his cold nose. Let’s get through this and back to our friends. We’ll heal later.

  Quicksilver planted a kiss between his ears.

  “Settle down back there,” Fox called to the skeletons. “How about we all sing for a while?”

  Fox started singing the Lady’s song, too. The sound of his chipper voice made everything seem a bit less sinister as they set out past knots of mossy roots and columns of stone, following the song. They learned quickly to avoid the sunset-colored flowers, each of which unfurled a second set of petals at their approach—these lined with tiny black teeth.

  “But this goes on forever!” Quicksilver cried, after pushing her way through a stubborn cluster of thick vines the width of her arm. The world below the tree seemed to stretch in every direction, as far as they could see.

  Fox stopped singing. Wait a moment. What is that?

  Quicksilver turned and saw, in a glade lit with a wash of green sunlight, a creature she had never seen before. But she knew at once what it was. The Scrolls said they had lived in the Star Lands long before humans or witches, and that brief mention had been enough to captivate all of the girls at the convent, even Quicksilver.

  “A unicorn,” she breathed.

  The Lady had been lovely, but the unicorn was so glorious the sight of it made Quicksilver’s dizziness fade. Its eyes were large and dark, its tail a banner of ethereal cloud. The thin, spiraled horn on its forehead gave off soft silver light.

  There was another—no, three of them. They circled a tiny white tree, its net of delicate branches like fine lace. A dim beam of sunlight shone down through the tangled roots overhead, turning the tree and the unicorns a luminous white.

  Quicksilver felt she ought not to stare at the unicorns but couldn’t help herself. They tossed their heads and let out soft whuffs like sleepy laughter. She felt their hoofbeats on the mossy ground like the pulse of her own heart.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  But that wasn’t her heart.

  Quicksilver’s head shot up. Fox, the Lady’s heart. It’s in that white tree! The heart is the thing that’s singing! Listen!

  Fox pointed at the tree, sniffing. Do you think we can just . . . ask them to let us pass?

  Quicksilver approached the unicorns, keeping her gaze lowered. She had never been the bashful sort, and yet she could not stand up straight before these creatures. The weight of their beauty sat heavy upon her. She felt low and small, easily squashed.

  “Pardon me,” she mumbled, “but could we . . . that is, my friend and I . . . could we please, if it isn’t too much trouble . . . pass by you?”

  The unicorns froze and turned to stare at her. Their horns glinted in the sunlight.

  Quicksilver’s mouth went dry.

  Say something nice! Fox suggested.

  “You are . . .” Quicksilver swallowed. “You are more beautiful than . . . than sunsets, than dreams, than . . . anything. Thank you.”

  Thank you? Fox stamped his paw. For what? They haven’t let us by yet!

  Quicksilver stepped forward hesitantly. “It will only take a few moments, I promise you. Then we’ll leave you in peace.”

  One of the unicorns flicked its tail abruptly.

  Quicksilver took another step. Two.

  As one, the unicorns bolted toward her—and once out of the sunlight, they . . . changed.

  Their bright white coats darkened to coats of shadow black and rot brown and bruise green. Their elegant bones turned sharp and jutting, their muscles bulging and monstrous. Clumps of moss and weeds for manes, ropy black vines for tails. They let out horrible, shrieking cries that revealed long, gleaming fangs.

  They lowered their heads and charged at Quicksilver, three gleaming obsidian horns aimed at her heart.

  She swerved, ducked, and rolled, narrowly avoiding their stomping black hooves.

  To me! Quicksilver thought, and with Fox at her side, they ran for the tree.

  But the three unicorns were not alone. Others tore out of the shadows, screaming like wildcats. Still others crawled out of the roots, like the tree itself was creating them, spitting out one after another after another.

  Quicksilver whirled around, trying to count all of them. They were a swarm, and their horns shone like black swords.

  Spare them not, she thought to Fox, flinging him toward the unicorns like an arrow from a bow. A bolt of pure, blazing gold energy, he zipped between them, leaving charred streaks on their coats. One, wounded, stumbled into the sunlight and collapsed, pure white once more save for the vicious wound on its heaving side.

  Quicksilver paused, her heart seized by a sudden fierce pity. “So beautiful,” she whispered, stepping toward it.

  No, master! Go!

  At Fox’s voice, Quicksilver turned and ran. At the white tree, she skidded to a halt and placed her hand against the trunk. Its bark pulsed, warm and smooth to the touch—like skin. She leaned closer, put her ear against it.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  The heart was in the tree—but how to get it?

  Behind her, a unicorn snarled and Fox let out a whimpering cry.

  Fox?

  I’m fine!

  Quicksilver hurried around the tree, looking for a way into the smooth, hard bark—and then she saw it. A tiny knothole surrounded by scarred red wood, too small for even a squirrel to get through.

  Fox, to me!

  He flew to her, a streak of fiery golden light, and became a dog once more. She ripped the pack from his back.

  Can you fit inside?

  We’ll see, won’t we?

  Fox shifted into his tiny mouse form, squeezed through the knothole, and disappeared.

  Quicksilver turned to face the unicorns. Twelve of them—no, twenty—circled the tree.

  Think, Quicksilver, she thought not to Fox, but to herself. Pretend you’re back at the convent. Sister Marketta found the beehive you left in the dining hall. She’s sent everyone after you, and you have to get to the roof before they lock you up for good.

  She pictured Anastazia, alone in the woods—confused and possibly, by now, afraid. She thought of Sly Boots, still and blue in the Lady’s clutches.

  She clenched her fists.

  I am mighty.

  I need no one.

  I’ve got it! came Fox’s jubilant cry from inside the tree. It’s . . . wait, that can’t be right.

 
Quicksilver thought him to her—To me!—and he appeared in her palms, quivering. He had wrapped himself around a crimson jewel that hung from a heavy gold chain with a long, wicked clasp. His yellow fur was soaked red with blood.

  “But now her heart is bound to bough,” sang the jewel, in a forlorn woman’s voice. “Only you can save her now.”

  Quicksilver held Fox close, nearly gagging on the scent of blood. Dear Fox. Just hold on to me. I can handle this.

  She ran—dodging the unicorns, sliding under their slashing hooves and horns, crying out when their fangs grazed her but not stopping, never stopping, never, never. The sunset flowers’ forked tongues lashed about her ankles; the unicorns’ cries pierced her aching skull.

  Anastazia. Sly Boots.

  Anastazia. Sly Boots.

  Run. Run. Run.

  Then she saw, dangling just ahead, a single white snake. Though it had no eyes, she knew it was looking at her.

  “May I?” she shouted.

  The snake seemed to nod, once. Quicksilver grabbed it with her free hand, which was slippery with the jewel’s blood. The snake coiled about her and drew her up, and when the unicorns nipped at her feet, Quicksilver almost lost her grip—but then she was above the roots, and there was the Lady.

  Quicksilver fell to her knees. Breathless, she offered up the jewel—except now it was not a jewel, but a pulsing, fleshy heart.

  The Lady snatched it, and Quicksilver fell back. She gently shifted Fox into a dog and cradled him against her chest.

  Fox?

  Here. He hid his face in her hair. I’m here.

  The Lady pulled aside her dress to reveal a gaping maw in her chest, surrounded by bloody puncture marks. With a faint, fluttering laugh, she shoved her heart back into place.

  The singing stopped. The Lady closed her eyes and breathed deep. She sighed, and tears rolled down her cheeks before disappearing in tiny ashen puffs. When she opened her eyes, they were empty sockets. One by one, the snakes shriveled up into tufts of brittle hair.

  Sly Boots slid out of the Lady’s lap, and Quicksilver caught him before he could stumble and fall between the roots. As she watched, the Lady’s body jerked left, then right. Her chest collapsed, her back snapped. With one last shuddering breath, she whispered, “Give my heart to your love, witch girl.”