Hope

by Beth Bracken

  She waits a long moment.

  Then she nods.

  “We cast a spell years ago,” she says slowly. “It was part of our effort to defeat Calandra. It didn’t work then, but it seems to be working now.”

  “What did the spell do?” I ask. “And why does it work now?”

  “It bound her human blood to the human world,” Motherbird explains. “We thought it would cast her out of the faerieground and away from here. It was before we took you away, but we knew that the faerieblood inside you would overpower the spell on the human blood. But the spell keeping Calandra in faerie form was stronger. Darker magic, I suppose.”

  “So when I broke the spell that made her a faerie—”

  She nods. “Then the other spell, still there, took hold.”

  “Kheelan said this was a special kind of sickness,” I say. “Something that happens to humans on faerieground. And that’s why it’s happening to Lucy too. He didn’t say anything about a spell.”

  She shakes her head. “The human sickness is an old fable,” she explains. “And as for Lucy—”

  She looks deep into my eyes. “That’s where the story gets longer,” she says. “And we do not have time now.”

  Lucy

  In my fever dream, I stand at the edge of the woods.

  A flock of crows flies overhead. My mother stands just past the treeline, and I’m on the other side, looking out of the thick woods. In the dream, my vision is clear.

  She takes a step in, stands next to me. Steps out again. Back in. “We used to pass in and out,” she says.

  The dream-woods shift, and now I’m standing on the outside, and my mother is on the inside.

  My mother’s hair turns dark, then turns to feathers, and the feathers drift to the ground.

  I stretch my hand to touch her, but she steps deeper into the woods.

  Another shift. I’m inside the woods again. My eyes are fading. I rub them, try to keep them clear.

  My mother shakes her head.

  “You can’t stop it,” she says. “It’s in your blood.”

  Soli

  Kheelan stands outside the tent where Lucy is.

  “She’s sleeping,” he says. “She’s having bad dreams, but I don’t want to wake her.”

  I nod. “Thank you for taking care of her,” I say.

  I step closer to him, and he reaches out, holds me in his arms.

  “What about you?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

  I pull away.

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  “How did you get here alone? Did you remember the way I brought you?”

  I shake my head. “Your father helped me find this place.”

  He smiles. “I figured you’d meet him,” he says.

  “He told me he works for the queen,” I say.

  “That’s right,” Kheelan says, and the smile fades. “He is a loyal man.”

  “Like his son?” I ask.

  Kheelan reaches out and strokes my cheek. “I am loyal,” he says. “But not to the queen.”

  He smiles again, a smile that stretches to his eyes, his whole face lit up.

  “I am loyal to my heart,” he whispers. And kisses my fingertips.

  The heat that begins in my own heart stretches to my face.

  I feel the blush spread.

  Then his face turns serious again. “Did you talk to Motherbird about Lucy?” he asks.

  I nod. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “She made it sound like there’s no cure.”

  “Can’t we bring the humans across to their own world?” he asks.

  “She says that’s a fable,” I say, shaking my head. “This is a spell the Ladybirds cast, and they can’t change it. It’s bound to Calandra’s blood, or something.”

  “But what has that to do with Lucy?” Kheelan asks. “If it’s not a human sickness, why does she have it?”

  “Motherbird wouldn’t tell me,” I say. “Maybe it’s because her mother helped me, I don’t know.”

  “Or maybe Lucy and Calandra share blood,” Kheelan says, looking carefully at my face.

  “That’s impossible,” I say.

  We hear a rustling noise from within the tent, and Kheelan quickly looks inside. “She’s still asleep,” he says. “But restless.”

  “How could they share blood?” I ask. “You mean, they could be related? No. That’s impossible. There’s no way.”

  He shrugs.

  “No one knows where Calandra came from,” he says.

  “I thought she came from the Crows,” I say.

  “Well, that’s true. That’s what has always been said. But she’s not a Crow. She’s human. We know that now. And we’ve always known she wasn’t a Crow. The king—your father—he never would have fallen in love with a Crow.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “It just never would have happened,” he says. “He never would have married a Crow. So if she’s human, how did they get her?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess that question never crossed my mind.”

  “It’s always been said that the Crows sent her to us, to deceive the king and rule our kingdom. No one knows how the Crows found her. No one knows where she came from.”

  Lucy

  I wake up all alone in the tent, burning hot.

  “I need water, please,” I say. “Someone?”

  My voice cracks as I speak. But no one is there, and no one can help me. I open my eyes, expecting darkness. But I can still see—barely.

  I make out a shape at the other side of the tent. “Motherbird?”

  The shape moves, and I see that it has wings. “Who’s there?” I whisper.

  A man’s voice says, “Where is Calandra?”

  Then it comes toward me, and I see its black feathers, and I scream.

  Soli

  When Lucy’s scream pierces the air, I drop Kheelan’s hand and run into the tent.

  She’s sitting up, pointing.

  Her eyes are cloudy.

  “Over there,” she says. “Over there!”

  I look, but nothing is there.

  The tent is empty.

  “What did you see?” I ask, sitting beside her, patting her back. “There’s nothing here.”

  She sobs. “There was,” she says through her tears. “A crow. Or a man. But the man had feathers.”

  “Were you dreaming?” I ask.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I wasn’t.”

  I stand and cross the tent.

  On the floor, there’s one black feather.

  Kheelan and Jonn have followed me in. “The Crows were here,” Jonn says. He looks at me, looks at the feather in my hand.

  “You must speak to Motherbird,” Kheelan says. “She’s the only one who might know what to do.”

  “I know I saw it,” Lucy says.

  “You did,” I say.

  Soli

  In Motherbird’s tent, I shake as I tell her the story.

  I hand her the feather, and she examines it.

  “Yes,” she says. “It was them.”

  She sighs. “Soledad, you must speak to your mother.”

  I picture my mom, at home, probably worrying about me.

  “Your other mother,” Motherbird says. “Calandra. Follow me.”

  She leads me to a black tent on the edge of the Ladybird camp.

  A guard stands outside the door.

  “In there,” Motherbird says. “Go ahead. And hurry. She may not have long.”

  I hesitate outside the door.

  Then I take a deep breath.

  It’s time to face my mother—maybe for the last time.

  Inside, Calandra lies on a blanket on the ground. The girl from the palace—Caro—sits
on the other side of the tent, her legs crossed.

  “She’s sleeping,” she says.

  But Calandra coughs. I try not to notice the little drops of blood that come from her mouth.

  “I’m not asleep,” she says. Her voice is quiet but clear.

  I step closer.

  “It’s me,” I say. “Soli.”

  “Your name is Hope,” she says.

  Her eyes open, but I know she can’t see me.

  She stretches out a hand, and I step closer, but do not take it.

  “She’s dying,” Caro says.

  “I know,” I say, without turning to look at her. I keep my eyes on the queen.

  “Please, come closer,” Calandra says. “Please.”

  Her voice isn’t the voice of the cruel queen, not anymore. It’s the voice of a dying woman.

  The voice of my mother.

  A glass next to her bed is empty.

  “Caro,” I say. “Go and tell Motherbird that Calandra needs water.”

  “She doesn’t need anything,” Caro says. “We shouldn’t waste water on her.”

  I turn.

  “Go,” I say.

  And she does.

  I crouch down next to Calandra.

  “She’ll fly back to them soon,” Calandra says. She raises her hand to my face, and I let her cup my cheek in her palm. “Her feathers must be itching to fly.” She laughs, and says, “Caro, the Betrayer.”

  Lucy

  I float in and out of sleep.

  It is strange to be blind. I’m used to a life of light. Now everything is dark.

  Someone bursts into my tent, bringing a rush of cool air. “The queen wants water,” she says. It’s Caro.

  Kheelan is with me, holding my hand. “You can’t take this water,” he says. “Lucy needs it.”

  I want to smile, to thank him, but I am frozen in my body. I can’t move.

  I can only listen.

  “Lucy doesn’t need it,” Caro says. “She’s dying.”

  Kheelan’s grip on my hand tightens, and then he lets go and stands up. I hear him walk toward Caro, and I imagine what they must look like: Kheelan calm and dark, Caro light and angry, her hands on her hips.

  “Calandra will die years before Lucy does,” Kheelan says.

  “That’s what you think,” she says. “They won’t let Calandra die.”

  “Who?” Kheelan asks. “The Crows?”

  Caro says, “That’s right. Now give me that water. Soli asked for it for the queen.”

  “Soli is with her?” Kheelan asks. He sighs. “I’ll take her a cup. You stay here with Lucy.”

  The cool air brushes my face again, and Caro grabs my hand. She leans her face close to mine—I can feel her breath. “Now, Lucy,” she says. Her voice is still low and angry. “Let’s go.”

  And I hear the flap of wings.

  Soli

  Calandra is asleep when Kheelan bursts into the tent.

  I drop her hand.

  “Here,” he says, thrusting a cup of water toward me. “Caro said you needed this.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I reach for the water. My hand brushes his as I take the cold cup, and I feel the familiar tingle slide down my spine.

  I smile up at him, and he reaches out and strokes my cheek.

  Then Calandra moans from her bed. “Andria, find Mommy,” she says. “Find Mommy, I’m sick.”

  “Who is Andria?” Kheelan asks. “Isn’t that Lucy’s mother?”

  “My sister,” the queen says, shaking her head. “Tell her to find my mother.”

  I try to help her drink the water, but it mostly drips down her face.

  The proud queen, once so beautiful, looks broken, dying.

  Then she’s asleep again.

  Motherbird races into the tent, her face flushed. “Come, Soledad,” she says. “Quickly. Lucy has been taken.”

  She holds up one black feather.

  Lucy

  All I know is that Caro has taken me.

  I was with the Ladybirds, I was sick—I still am sick. I couldn’t see.

  And then Caro took me and then I was gone.

  Someone is carrying me. I think we are flying. The air is cold, and it feels good on my feverish body.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Be quiet,” Caro says. Her voice is different. Meaner.

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  “We need to move faster,” she says. “They’ll soon be looking for her. Mikael, hurry up.”

  The arms around me tighten and we fly faster.

  So it is not her arms I am in.

  The sound of wings, flapping. The feel of wind.

  Soli

  “This can’t be happening,” I whisper.

  I pace back and forth in the small tent, my hands shaking from frustration. “Lucy was just here. How could you let her disappear?”

  Motherbird doesn’t reply. She just stares at me, her cool eyes lingering on my face.

  Kheelan grabs my hands. “Soli, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find her.”

  “They’ve taken her to the Crows, of course,” Motherbird says.

  “I thought Caro was a friend,” Kheelan says. “I trusted her. Mostly.”

  Motherbird shoots us a sad smile. “Caro the Betrayer? A friend?” she says. “How did you think she received that name?”

  “I thought she betrayed the queen,” Kheelan says.

  “She was given that name at birth,” Motherbird says. “We gave it to her, because we saw what she would do.”

  I can’t listen anymore.

  “Will she kill Lucy?” I ask.

  Motherbird doesn’t answer. “You will leave at sunrise to search for your friend,” she tells me. “Your mother will show you the way.”

  “But Calandra is blind,” Kheelan says.

  Motherbird smiles. “She’ll find her way there.”

  I think about my real mother.

  My mother at home.

  She would be strong, tender, fair.

  She would want me to be fair and to fight.

  “I don’t trust her,” I say. “Calandra.”

  “Your mother holds the key to finding the Crows,” Motherbird says. “Without her, Lucy has no chance. And neither, young princess, do we.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her my mother,” I say. “I know she’s my mother, but she isn’t, not really.”

  Motherbird smiles. “I know,” she says. “But you’re her only daughter. Her Hope.”

  Lucy

  I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up tangled in feathers.

  My stomach drops. We seem to be falling. “You’re safe,” the man whispers. His voice is low, almost a grunt.

  And then we land. The man—Mikael—places me on my feet. The ground underneath me is reassuringly firm.

  “Hurry up, Mikael. Could you be any slower?” Caro’s voice is shrill.

  I thought she was my friend, but I’m learning quickly that I never should have trusted her.

  I try to remember if I told her anything important when we were locked in the cell together. Anything I shouldn’t have said. Anything she could use against me, and against Soli.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “We are with the Crows,” Caro says. “My people. Now be quiet.”

  Someone pokes me in the back, and I start walking—slowly, because it hurts. My whole body still aches, and I’m sweaty just from the effort of standing. Something is really, really wrong with me.

  “Hurry up,” Caro says. “They’re waiting for us.”

  We walk, my hands bound behind me, Caro leading me, telling me to walk faster and faster.

  “Remember that she’s ill,” Mikael says quietly.

/>   “I don’t care,” Caro snaps. “My father is waiting.”

  Then I hear singing. A sweet, soft lullaby. I am still blind, but images flash in my mind: A lake. A castle. The blue, blue sky, and a murder of crows. I try to free my hands. I try to run. The sound is beautiful, calling me toward it.

  “Cover her ears,” Caro says. “We need her alive, and the Sirens would swallow her.”

  My ears are muffled. The beautiful sound disappears and everything turns black.

  Soli

  Calandra looks like an old woman.

  Two days ago she looked almost as young as me.

  Now her hair has grayed.

  She can’t be that old—I think she was young when she married my father, the king—but she looks old.

  “Hope,” she whispers.

  Her eyes are glazed.

  I think she must be blind.

  “I need your help,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “The Crows have taken Lucy.”

  “I told you Caro was not your friend,” she says. A grin cracks her face. “Listen to your mother.”

  I clench my fists. “How do you feel?” I ask.

  She shrugs, her unseeing eyes staring up at the roof of the tent. “I feel finished,” she says.

  “Motherbird says you can help me,” I say. “That you can bring me to the Crows.” And even as I say it, I worry. A dying woman is my only chance? My only hope?

  “I can bring you there,” she says. A frown flickers across her face and is gone, replaced with strength.

  “Can you see anything?” I ask, bending closer.

  “I don’t need eyes to find that dark place,” she says. She begins to sit up. “Are we leaving now?”

  “At dawn,” I tell her. “Please be ready.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she says. “Tomorrow will be the test—for all of us.”

  Lucy

  Someone gives me a warm drink, something in a wooden cup—a milky drink that’s sweet with honey.

  As I sip it, blurs take form in my eyes. The blurs become shapes—then light—then sight.