“She’s hiding in the tower. That’s where she always goes, and I can sense her.”
“Okay then, I guess we’re climbing stairs.”
She’d thought the tension in the throne room during the fight had been bad, but in the tight quarters of the stairwell, the tension between her and Eamon was too thick for anything weaker than a chainsaw to cut through it. “I hope when they repair the barriers it stops all the weirdness,” she said, trying to find a way to ease into the conversation they needed to have. “There are all those theater people who’ve been dancing all night, and one of my costars seems to have picked up a leanan sidhe. Except he thinks I’m the redhead he’s seeing in his dreams.”
“She might have been putting on your face to entice him, but that would only work if he already saw you in his dreams.” His voice was stiff and formal sounding. Was he hurt? He was the one who’d been avoiding her.
“That’s a scary thought. Still, maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought. And he is talented.”
Instead of responding to that, he said, “Maeve is just ahead.”
Apparently he was going to keep this professional. She could do that. “Okay, ready for an ambush?”
He waved a hand, flinging the door of the tower room wide open, and both of them hit the woman inside with magic, immobilizing her. Emily felt it was ridiculously satisfying to be able to use fae magic against Maeve. If only she’d known she had the power last summer when Maeve caught her. Emily’s magic wasn’t that powerful, but combined with Eamon’s, it was more than enough to immobilize Maeve. “I bet you’re wishing you’d left me alone,” Emily said to the seething captive fairy as they hauled her down the stairs, bound with a magical silver chain Eamon had conjured. “You’d still have a court and you wouldn’t have been double-crossed so often.”
Nana had returned to the throne room by the time they returned. She was sitting on her throne, handing out judgment to the fae who’d sided with Josephine. “Ah, Maeve,” she said, sounding conversational. “It seems like every time there’s a threat to the Realm, you’re involved. You fall for every line that any traitor throws you, and I’ve had enough. I don’t want you in my court, and I don’t want you in my Realm.”
“Not exile!” Maeve blurted.
“Oh, I’m not that cruel, and I don’t want to create another Josephine. We’re safest if you’re a mortal living in the mortal world.” She waved a hand, and Maeve changed. It was subtle—she was still ridiculously gorgeous, but in a more human way. She didn’t glow the way the fae did, and all sense of power was gone. Maeve wailed and sank to the ground, sobbing.
Emily was surprised by just how stricken Eamon looked. He loved humans and studied human culture to the point he probably fit in better with them than with other fae, and he had no love for Maeve, but the look of pity on his face nearly broke Emily’s heart. Now she understood why he’d been avoiding her. No matter what he felt for her, this was what he’d have to do for them to be together if she didn’t move into the Realm. She wasn’t ready for that step, so she could hardly blame him for not wanting to give up his immortality.
And that was when she realized her feelings for him were real. He wasn’t just an itch she wanted to scratch. She cared about what happened to him, and she cared too much to make him give anything up for her. That was a particularly cruel irony, to understand how much she felt when she knew she couldn’t act on it.
Maybe that’s what had been going on with him: he’d realized he didn’t want her giving up her life for him. So where did that leave them, caring about each other too much to be together? She supposed that was why Charles made a good distraction. It would be better for both of them if she forced herself to move on.
Even though Maeve had caused Emily so much trouble, she still felt a little bad for her. “Don’t worry, Maeve,” she said, helping the former fairy to her feet. “You’ve got the looks to be a supermodel, and it’ll be a few more years before you have to start worrying about wrinkles.”
Fifty-five
The Throne Room
Meanwhile
Michael knew he probably needed to get up at some point, but he was comfortable the way he was, with Sophie nestled against his side. He was trying hard not to think about what had happened to him and what it meant. “Don’t you have a matinee?” he asked after a while.
“Oh dear, don’t remind me,” she said with a groan. “But this is when manipulating the Realm comes in handy. I can take a nap here and get home barely after the time I left.”
“That is handy. Do you think I’ll be able to do that sort of thing?”
“Don’t get too excited about maybe having powers.”
“I know. We need to figure out what it means.”
“I’m sorry all this happened to you. It’s my fault.”
He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t say that. You didn’t mean for anything to happen. It was some kind of destiny thing.”
“And you got all tangled up in my destiny.”
“Have you considered that it might be my destiny, too?”
She looked up at him with her odd eyes. “Well, you must be different in some way to be able to respond to things the way you have, so I suppose that’s a possibility.”
She slid out of his arms and stood, moving far more gracefully than he’d expect of someone who’d been through what she had. He needed her helping hand to drag himself to his feet. “Now, about that nap,” he said with a groan.
Leonie’s people ushered them all to rooms in the palace. Since time didn’t really work here, he wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he woke totally refreshed. He found his way back to the throne room, where Sophie was waiting. They were soon joined by Emily with a yawning Beau, Mrs. Smith, and all the enchantresses. Guards brought the now-human Maeve. “Okay, everyone ready?” Sophie asked before leading the group out of the palace to a spot where she could open a gateway.
While the Drake sisters hugged their grandmother good-bye, the woman in white approached Michael. “I have been given permission to stay,” she told him, beaming radiantly.
“That’s good,” he said. “But I hope I’ll still see you around.”
“I’m sure you will.” She rose on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before scampering away.
He noticed that Eamon wasn’t among the group and wondered what was up with that. He and Emily had seemed pretty close, but then it wasn’t as though this was a permanent parting. He was back and forth all the time, so he was probably busy doing something for the queen. And he likely was too smart to get close to Emily in front of Sophie.
When all the farewells were said, Sophie opened the gateway, and they stepped through, emerging in the predawn park. The others fanned out, and Michael noticed Emily giving the guards instructions about Maeve, but he hung back with Sophie. “So, rest or food?” he asked.
“I’ve had plenty of rest, and I’m starving,” she said.
“Then how about a very early breakfast?”
“Sounds like a brilliant idea.” She took his arm as they began walking. “You know, I planned all this for Sunday night, when I had a bit of a break.”
“Too bad Josephine didn’t cooperate.”
“Is it weird that I feel a little sorry for her? I think if I’d been in her situation, I’d have reacted a lot like she did.”
“I don’t think you would. Remember, the coup came before your ancestor gave up the throne. Maybe if she hadn’t been a traitor to her own sister, she’d have had the throne honestly. I don’t see you betraying your grandmother to get power.”
“I gave the power to my grandmother.”
“My point exactly.” They walked a little while longer, and he noticed that light flurries of snow were falling. “The world still feels a little magical. They must not have fixed all the barriers yet.”
“Or maybe it’s in the eye of the beholder,” she said.
“So now that I’m a little magical, the world will be more magical to me?”
“No. The world is magical to you because you’re willing to see beyond what you expect, and you look with your heart.”
“That sounds like the kind of thing Mari says when she’s mocking me.”
“Are you so sure she’s mocking you? Maybe she’s sincere and covering it in snark. I think she admires you a great deal.” She hesitated a second, then added, “And I don’t blame her.”
“And just imagine what she’d say if she knew I was part fairy—you won’t tell her, of course.”
She looked up at him, grinning. “Never. It’s our little secret.”
He couldn’t resist imagining the dancing snowflakes forming themselves into a crown that hovered just over Sophie’s head, then was startled when they did so. He quickly scattered them as it struck him what he’d just done, and the flakes settled on her hair.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Still, it was going to take some getting used to.
THE END
About this Series
You have just read the third book in the Fairy Tale series, A Kind of Magic. A Kind of Magic is also available in audiobook and paperback formats.
The Fairy Tale series will continue with more adventures.
Books in the Fairy Tale Series:
1. A Fairy Tale
2. To Catch a Queen
3. A Kind of Magic
Farrar, Straus and Giroux Books for Young Readers introduces Rebel Mechanics by Shanna Swendson.
Read on for an excerpt from Rebel Mechanics.
An Excerpt from Rebel Mechanics
If I’d let myself think about what might lie ahead for me, I’d have been terrified. So, instead of thinking, I lost myself in the book I’d bought at the train station newsstand – the kind of pulp novel I’d have had to hide behind a copy of The Odyssey if I’d still been at home in New Haven. Now, though, I could read what I wanted without my father having any say in the matter. My life had improved in that way, at least.
Although the motion of the train made it difficult to keep the paperback book steady, I defiantly held it with the lurid cover clearly visible as I read about a daring gang of bandits terrorizing stagecoaches. I was so engrossed in the story that when I heard a sharp noise and raised voices, I initially mistook it for my imagination bringing the story to life. Then I looked up to see a group of masked, gun-wielding men rushing through the connecting doorway at the front of the car. A thrill shot through me. I had told myself my life would be more exciting beginning today, but I hadn’t really believed it. I picked up my bag and dropped the book into it so I wouldn’t miss a thing.
“Seal the door!” the tallest bandit ordered, and one of the masked men turned to throw the latch. He held his hands over it, and I thought for a moment that I saw a shimmer beneath them. A shiver went down my spine, making me gasp. Could that have been magic? No, I decided, only the magister class could use magic, and that class held most of the property in the British Empire and controlled the magical power that ran all industry, even here in the American colonies. Magisters shouldn’t need to rob trains. When I looked again, the shimmer was gone. I must have imagined it.
While the man who’d sealed the door stood lookout, the tall bandit who’d shouted the order strode up the aisle, heading toward the rear of the car where I sat. Abruptly, he stopped and raised his pistol at a man sitting three rows ahead of me. “I’ll take that,” he said in a soft but firm voice as he grabbed a slim black leather case the man held in his lap. The man clung to his case, and it looked for a moment as though he might put up a fight, but the bandit cocked his pistol with his thumb and held it closer to the man’s face. The man released his hold on the bag. The bandit gave him a disconcertingly polite nod as he lowered the gun and took the case. He then continued up the aisle, seemingly unaffected by the swaying motion of the train as it slowed to round a bend.
He stopped directly in front of my seat, and I gripped the handles of my bag as my heart beat wildly. The bandit stood so close to me I could see his eyes through the slits in his mask. They were an icy, pale blue, hard and cold, with little flecks of gray around the pupil and a band of darker blue around the outer edge of the iris. I had never met a killer, but based on every novel I’d read, that was how I imagined a killer’s eyes would look.
When the bandit stepped toward me, I reacted instinctively. I rose to my feet, swung my bag at him, and then felt the shock go up to my elbows when I connected with his head. He staggered backward, and I felt light-headed as my breath came in shallow gasps. I shrank away, fearing retribution.
Instead of being angered by my assault, he smiled wryly and holstered his gun. The smile made his eyes look much less icy and hard. With a slight bow, he said, “My apologies, miss. I did not intend to alarm you.”
“They’re coming!” the lookout called from the front of the car. “Hurry!”
My bandit glanced over his shoulder to see the railroad guards attempting to open the locked door, then returned his attention to me. “And now, if you will excuse me, I need to make use of your seat to reach that hatch.” I followed his eyes upward to see a hatch in the car’s ceiling, directly above me. The bandit put the case he’d taken on the seat near me, stepped onto the seat, placed his hands against the hatch, paused for a moment, and pushed. The hatch flew open, sending a gust of wind rushing into the car and jolting me back against the window. I worried that my hat would fly off, but I was too afraid of letting go of my bag to secure my hatpin. “It’s open, come on!” the bandit shouted to the others as he climbed down.
The rest of the gang ran toward us, and I clutched my bag against my chest as, one by one, they jumped onto the seat and hoisted themselves through the hatch onto the roof of the car. A couple passed heavy-looking sacks up to other gang members before climbing after them. When the others had all gone, the bandit I’d hit reached for my gloved hand and brushed my knuckles with his lips, whispering, “I hope the rest of your journey goes smoothly, miss,” before he climbed onto the seat, passed the stolen case up to a colleague, then pulled himself through. The hatch closed behind him with a clang and the car instantly grew quieter.
Breathless and quivering, I sank slowly onto my seat, resting my bag on my knees. I absently rubbed my left thumb across the knuckles of my right hand, where the bandit had kissed me. It was the first truly romantic thing I’d ever experienced.
The guards finally made it through the door, and they ran down the aisle. The man whose bag had been taken leaped out of his seat to accost them. “I am a courier on official business for the crown, and those bandits took my case of priority dispatches!” he shouted, his mustache bristling in fury. “I expect better protection than this when I travel!” The other passengers joined in, adding their complaints at high volume.
The guards did their best to calm everyone. They interviewed the courier and several of the other passengers. One of the guards climbed onto the seat beside mine – without so much as a word to me – and attempted unsuccessfully to open the hatch. All the while, I kept glancing out the window, wondering where the bandits had gone. The train hadn’t slowed down enough for them to jump, and I’d seen no one running away from the tracks.
The connecting door at the rear of the car opened and a well-dressed young man carrying a large brown leather valise entered. He pulled up short and gaped at the commotion. “I say, what’s all this?” he asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about, sir,” a guard said brusquely. “Please have a seat.”
The newcomer glanced around for a seat and took one across the aisle from me. With a sheepish grin, he told me, “There was a baby crying in the other car. I didn’t think I could bear it any longer. This looks a lot more interesting.” He watched the guards conducting their investigation with great fascination, as though this was the best entertainment he’d seen in a long time. I thought he seemed a little too interested in the proceedings, and his color was heightened, as though he was either excited about somet
hing or had just done a great deal of physical activity. Surely one wouldn’t get that red-faced merely while making his way through the train in search of a seat. Then I dismissed my suspicions as a flight of fancy. The bandits couldn’t possibly have come down off the top of the train, removed their masks and adjusted their appearance in the lavatories, and then dispersed throughout the train as ordinary travelers.
Or could they? This man’s height, build, and voice were all wrong for the lead bandit, and I’d paid too little notice to the rest of the gang to tell if this man could have been part of the group. I decided to leave the investigation to the guards. If there was something worth looking into, they’d question him.
The remainder of the journey passed without incident. When the train pulled into Grand Central Depot in New York City, I noticed upon disembarking that the third-class passengers were being searched, so apparently the first and second classes were above suspicion. I was fortunate that my father’s last gesture of goodwill to me had been a second-class ticket.
In the depot, I was immediately swallowed by the sea of porters, newsboys, and passengers. After several vain attempts to get a porter’s attention, I was finally able to arrange for my trunk to be held. Then I followed the flow of humanity onto the concourse toward the exit, where I paused on the threshold. Seven potential employers had requested interviews based on my letters of application, so I had high hopes of obtaining a position and a place to stay by this evening. Beyond those doors lay my future, and I was ready for it to begin.
I was entirely unprepared for the assault on my senses as I stepped out of the depot onto Forty-Second Street. Horse-drawn carriages and omnibuses and magical horseless carriages clattered up and down the street, their drivers ringing bells, sounding horns, and shouting. Smaller magical roadsters zipped in and out of the traffic, startling the horses. That many horses on the street left a pungent odor that competed with the smell of cooking from nearby restaurants and street stalls and a pall of smoke from coal fires that hung over the city. There were people packed shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, all in a great hurry. Scattered through the crowds were the bright scarlet coats of British soldiers.
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