Fury Convergence

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  Branwyn wanted to feel aghast, but she couldn’t. It fit right in with her forebodings. “I bet she knows, too.”

  “Probably,” Severin agreed. “But that makes gambling on me even more exciting for her.”

  After a moment, Branwyn said distantly, “I’m just thinking about the difference between telling a girl somebody is too dangerous for her, and telling her they’ve concocted an elaborate plan to murder her in order to get out of being her boyfriend.”

  He did touch her face this time, his fingers trailing across her cheek before he pressed his thumb lightly against her lips. “You’ve got it, cupcake.”

  Uncomfortable warmth rushed through her. She wanted to bite him, envisioned the likely outcome and instead just adjusted her head.

  He dropped his hand. “Your call. Tell her whichever one you please.”

  “I’m not going to tell her either one. This whole conversation is a tangent.”

  “But you know she’ll ask, cupcake,” he said in mock surprise. “Are you going to lie?”

  She glared at him. “In a red hot second. I might make up embarrassing personal secrets, too.”

  He laughed, and she thought wistfully about hitting him with her hammer. Then, in the distance, there was a long, low boom. Night was already creeping across the landscape, and she saw a flicker of red at the limit of her vision.

  Severin looked toward the boom, too. “Ah, well. If you insist on staying here, it will still be an exciting night for the Court. I’ll do my best to give you those eight hours.”

  “She wants to watch you fight,” said Branwyn glumly. She hadn’t intended to tell him the details of what the Summer Queen had planned, but after Severin’s own dark confidences secrecy didn’t seem as important anymore. “And get a makeover. She’ll probably throw pillows.”

  “And French braid your hair. Hey, maybe you can get those baths, too.”

  Branwyn shivered. That last sounded better than she wanted to admit. “I’m going back. Don’t get killed.”

  Have fun, said his voice in her ear. Call me if you get bored and change your mind….

  14

  Slumber Party

  The base of the Summer Court had emptied of visitors when Branwyn went back inside, and she had her choice of elevators. She picked the one that faced the incoming Night and watched as the elevator rose. When the elevator reached the top of its path, she remained, unable to pull herself away. There was something heart-twisting about the way it swept over the land, swallowing sunlight and rainbows and leaving behind only distant stars.

  The land near Underlight had changed in Night, and it changed in Summer, too. Dense patches of forest squeezed themselves between cultivated fields and mist rose from the barrows that grew with the spread of darkness. Even the round structures of the children of Harvest changed, growing taller, narrower, and crooked. They all glowed with golden lights in the windows, though, which was comforting, especially when considered against the red eyes she spotted moving in the nearest forest.

  Far in the distance, directly along the road they’d followed, she could see the burning glow of the beast that had been following them. The Summer Queen had told her not to worry about it, that it would be dealt with somehow. She had to trust that.

  From beyond the curve of the Court’s trunk, a troop of knights in silver armor mounted on unicorns rode silently into view. The one in the lead raised a sword, and they galloped down the Night road. It made a pretty picture, but it didn’t move her the same way Night’s arrival had. Like the landscape itself, it was a vision designed to be looked at, rather than to express or accomplish something. Branwyn could understand why Severin disliked them.

  That was not a thought she wanted to linger over, though, so she finally left the elevator and returned to the Summer Queen’s room. The Court, now lit by foxfire, was eerily empty, although there were several faeries loitering in the corridor near the Queen’s room. Two of them played musical instruments and one of them made towels dance before him with languid movements of his fingers.

  Branwyn knocked on the Queen’s door and Rhianna opened it. Her cheeks were flushed but her face looked a little drawn. “Hey. We were watching Night get settled in.”

  “Come in, come in!” Summer bounced up and down on her bed. “Though not for long. Rhianna was telling me how she’d skipped a bath at Stone. We have to fix that. Then I can dress you up! And play with your hair! I was reading a book on French braids.”

  Branwyn said, “Of course. I’m in. Let’s do this.”

  Summer laughed. “You’re expecting to be bored. Don’t worry about that. Sit down and eat something and after that I’ll show you my bathroom.”

  The windows over the window seat had been cranked open and a fresh breeze brought the scent of honeysuckle. Branwyn sat down at the table. It now held two trays of food. On one was a presentation of tiny filigree sugar constructions, candied fruit, paper-thin crisps curled in the shape of animals, and slices of what looked like uncooked pancetta. The other tray had the remnants of a bowl of ridged potato chips, a plate of chocolate chip cookies and some sticks of meat.

  “They bring her food from Earth,” reported Rhianna. “She said this tray was safe for us.”

  “They bought it at the supermarket,” agreed Summer, hopping off the bed. “With money they earned performing. I made them do it right. Though now they’ve turned into real pests about making me eat food they prepare.” She picked up a birdcage of spun sugar with a crystal bird inside, sneered at it, then crunched it between her teeth.

  Branwyn took a cookie and bit into it. She recognized the particular processed taste of the brand and made herself eat it anyhow. Then she ate a pressed meat stick. The tray of faerie food was far too pretty to have sitting there on an empty stomach. “Did both of you polish off the chips?”

  Rhianna smiled while Summer laughed. “I can make them bring some more. They’ve got a whole pantry of junk food. Do you want pizzas later?”

  “Sure, why not. Later, though. I definitely want to get that bath.”

  That made Rhianna’s smile flicker and return larger. The Summer Queen looked between them. “You two really are sisters. Okay, let’s go.”

  The Summer Queen’s bath was more of a large inset hot tub, almost pool-like, with a single shower nearby to wash first. It suited Branwyn perfectly. Rhianna took the shower, giving Branwyn a few minutes of one-on-one time with Summer.

  The Queen didn’t waste a moment. Dropping her voice, she said, “So how was he? The monster, I mean? Did you mention me?”

  Branwyn didn’t hide her eyeroll because she wouldn’t have hidden it from her sisters. “Of course I mentioned you. I was telling him we’d be staying the night as your guests.”

  “Well, did he say anything about me?”

  Branwyn had prepared for this. “He thought you looked very young.”

  Instead of the pout of disappointment she expected, Summer squinted at her. “Did he? I can’t quite tell.” She tapped her mouth thoughtfully. “Your relationship with him is more complicated than you said, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Branwyn admitted, because the Queen of Stone hadn’t much liked Severin evading her direct questions, and evidently truth-detection was a general Queen trait.

  Summer grinned. “That’s cool. You can tell me all about it later.”

  “Who’s next?” asked Rhianna, emerging from the shower, and Branwyn took the escape. And when it was Summer’s turn and Branwyn and Rhianna had settled into the steaming water, she scooted close to Rhianna and hissed, “Was Truth or Dare on the agenda?”

  “I couldn’t figure out how to move it off,” Rhianna whispered back.

  “We’ll just have to distract her, then.”

  The Summer Queen’s shower was much quicker than either of theirs, and she splashed down into the pool beside them with a cheer. Then she backed away and inspected both of them frankly. “I definitely need to get a human body next time. Harvest’s daughters don’t develop nearly
as much.” Then she looked more closely at Rhianna. “How did you get those scars?”

  Branwyn blinked and also stared at her sister. A number of recent scars pocked her ribcage and sliced across her stomach.

  Rhianna gave a little smile. “I shouldn’t say.”

  “Why not?” asked Summer bluntly. “I won’t tell anybody else.”

  “Because I made a promise I wouldn’t. If I broke my word, it would make it hard for me to face somebody I care about.”

  Summer gave Rhianna the same thoughtful look she’d given Branwyn, and then said, disappointed, “Spy stuff.” She turned on Branwyn. “You’re not a spy, though. What’s that mark on your neck?”

  Branwyn instinctively covered Severin’s mark with her fingers. “A bad memory.”

  “Hm. Okay,” said the Queen, in the exact tone she’d earlier said, We’ll come back to that later. She lifted one of her legs out of the water. “I have scars, too. This one’s from when I broke my leg riding a unicorn when I was six.”

  Branwyn, still touching the mark Severin had left when he healed her broken arm, said, “They can’t even heal you?”

  Summer shrugged. “They can make things heal faster, but it was a bad break. The Harvest’s daughter who took care of me said if they’d bother learning more about how bodies worked, they’d be better healers. But all they have to do to fix themselves is spend a day wishing.”

  “The door’s open now. Make one of them go to medical school,” said Rhianna firmly.

  Summer laughed. “I don’t know if I want somebody like that bossing me around, but it would be awfully fun to make somebody go to college for me. Maybe I will.” She eyed Branwyn speculatively. “You know, that was a pretty strange thing for a human to say. Like you just sort of expect magic healing.”

  Branwyn shifted her weight so the warm water swished around her. “I don’t expect it for me, but… somebody… I know is pretty good at it, I guess. I’m sort of surprised.”

  “The monster,” guessed Summer. “Does he have a name, by the way? I know some monsters do and some don’t.”

  Branwyn pressed her lips tightly together, and Rhianna stepped in and saved her. “We call him Sev. I don’t think that’s his real name, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “Hmm,” said Summer. She lay back in the water and floated, her hair spreading out around her.

  Rhianna watched her and then said, in much the same way Summer had asked about Sev, “So what’s going on with the handmaiden? She couldn’t stop crying over Griff.”

  Without lifting her head, Summer said, “Oh, Stone’s always adopting mortal children. She makes sure they grow up properly, and then they die, because they’re mortal. Then the whole Court falls apart so Stone doesn’t. It hurts the handmaiden particularly because she’s the spare.”

  Branwyn blinked. “You mean the heir?”

  With a little laugh, Summer said, “Yeah, sure. The heir. You know, sometimes she’s the only faerie in the world I can’t hate.”

  As Branwyn tried and failed to sort through that explanation, the door opened and the faerie she’d noticed making towels dance appeared with a bundle of them. He deposited them on a shelf and gathered up the clothes scattered all over the floor.

  “Clean those and return them in a couple of hours,” ordered the Queen, with barely a glance. “And have the dressmaker wait in my room for us.” She righted herself and looked between Branwyn and Rhianna. “Feeling better? Ready to play dress-up?”

  “I wouldn’t mind soaking a bit longer,” Branwyn admitted. “It’s a nice bath. I like the tiles on the ceiling.” They were a slowly moving patchwork pattern that reminded Branwyn of her great grandmother’s quilts and very peaceful to watch.

  “Branwyn doesn’t like to do things halfway,” Rhianna said confidingly.

  “Won’t you get all shriveled up?” asked Summer.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” grumbled Branwyn. “All right, fine. What are we dressing up as?” She waded over to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out. Among the stack of towels were big fluffy purple bathrobes: two large and one smaller.

  “Whatever we want,” said Summer firmly. “My dressmaker will have a field day. I’m pretty sure she cries inside every time I put on a Harvest’s daughter tunic instead of something she made.”

  Rhianna gazed at her thoughtfully as she toweled her hair. “What’s your dressmaker’s name?”

  “Whirl,” replied Summer, putting on her robe. “I like her, because she thinks clothes are more important than me. And she actually learned to sew a long time ago because she figured she’d make better designs if she had to work to produce them. But she won’t be sewing tonight.”

  “Sounds like my kind of woman,” said Branwyn, and Rhianna laughed at her.

  As they went back to Summer’s room, Branwyn looked at Rhianna walking ahead of her. She was remembering her sleepovers in middle and high school. When they’d happened at Branwyn’s house, Rhianna, two-and-a-half years younger, had always joined them in the early parts of the evening, but she’d inevitably been sent to bed upstairs while Branwyn and her friends took over the den with sleeping bags.

  Eventually, of course, Rhianna had sleepovers of her own, but all Branwyn really remembered of those was looming over ‘the kids’ when they made too much noise and she had an early morning.

  God, even then, with all five of her even younger siblings running, or in the case of Meredith, crawling around, she’d still thought of Rhianna’s friends as ‘kids.’ Those dumb kids that Rhianna liked to hang around with. The idiot boys and giddy girls, so much less interesting than Marley and Penny.

  She wondered if Rhianna was in contact with any of them now. If so, she never visited them during holidays. The thought made Branwyn sad, and the realization that she hadn’t noticed before made her heart clench.

  “You’re frowning,” said Summer, as she held the bedroom door for her. “I wish I could fix whatever’s troubling you.”

  “No, no,” said Branwyn, hastily relaxing her face. “I’m fine. Let’s see what Whirl can do.”

  Summer gave her that ‘I spotted a lie’ look again but only said, “All right. You’ll be impressed.”

  The faerie dressmaker Whirl sat tailor-style on the swivel chair, wearing slacks and a jacket that was tight at the waist and loose at the shoulders. While she definitely looked like one of the brown-skinned faeries rather than the brown-skinned Harvest’s children, she was smaller and more delicate than the other Court faeries, with flashing hands and an unsettling, measuring gaze.

  “Will you let me make something for you that isn’t glamour?” she demanded of Summer as soon as she closed the door. “And will you wear it when I do? And treat it with respect, instead of like those rags you normally call clothes?”

  Branwyn couldn’t repress a shiver. It was too much like getting a last-minute date to the prom and having to beg Penny for help acquiring a dress nice enough to show up that rich bitch who’d mocked Branwyn’s overalls.

  Hastily, Summer answered just as Branwyn had, because in that situation there was no other answer. “Yes, yes, of course. Anything you want.”

  Whirl surveyed her sternly. “Very well. Let me study your guests.” She glanced at Branwyn and Rhianna in the purple robes. “Take those things off. Are you modest? I will give you chemises.”

  Neither Branwyn nor Rhianna were particularly modest, but they both accepted chemises anyhow. Whirl pointed at them each in turn and sparkles whirled out of her finger and condensed as silky bits of underwear. Branwyn’s was green like her hair, and Rhianna’s red like hers, and that was how Whirl addressed them for the remainder of her stay.

  For a little while, they both acted as dressmaker’s dummies for Whirl while Summer watched. Although she’d seemed cowed by Whirl’s initial remarks, the Queen didn’t hesitate to criticize Whirl’s creations.

  “Why the ruffles? Those ruffles look silly.”

  “Green stands wrong for that gown. Ruff
les are necessary here. They emphasize femininity.”

  “They didn’t always,” volunteered Rhianna, then whispered, “Sorry, I’ll just keep standing here.”

  “When is it our turn to dress up Summer?” asked Branwyn, who knew better than to have an opinion on her own dress. She wasn’t even going to try to suggest less feminine garb for herself in this environment.

  Whirl looked at her narrowly and then turned to Summer with an evil grin. “Stand up, child. Green wants to pick out clothes for you.”

  Looking delighted and embarrassed at the same time, Summer hopped up from the floor. Branwyn, suddenly on the spot, described the last outfit she’d seen Brynn wearing.

  Summer flung open a mirror hidden by a sliding wall and looked at herself in long shorts and a cute t-shirt with lacing on the sides and her face fell. “This looks like kid’s clothing.”

  “It looks much better than your favorite rags though,” said Whirl nastily. “More practical, too, for what you get up to.”

  The Queen ignored Whirl and turned to Branwyn. “Describe something Sev would like.”

  God damn it. But at least she could answer this with absolute honesty. “I have no earthly idea.”

  Summer toyed with the lacing on the t-shirt. “We could bring him up here and ask. It’d be fun having a boy’s opinion too.”

  “I don’t think he cares about clothes. He’d be bored. Or a jerk.” Branwyn took a chance. “He really is a jerk, Summer.”

  After a tiny pause, Summer said, “Of course you’d think so, but he was nice to me. Anyhow, let’s try something else. Something more grown up.”

  Whirl, who was clearly as bored with the discussion of Severin as he would be with dress-up, looked up. “You do not have an adult’s body. I could add the curves, but it would look false.”