by Kailin Gow
“I almost had it…” Rose flushed almost as red as her hair. “I think it worked – but the potion’s unstable. It kept vibrating in the vial – the vial knocked itself off the table and shattered…”
Frank considered this for a moment. “Well,” he said. “If it is vibrating, it means there’s magic in the potion – which means you’re getting somewhere.”
“It’s not stable yet, though,” said Rose.
“You’re most of the way there,” said Frank. “Fear not, my girl. If you could do it before, then no doubt you can do it again. Perhaps you’ll simply need to work with a different vial this time?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I must say, my girl. I am so terribly proud of you. I think of all of the attendants of the Summer Court like sons and daughters to me – but you have proven yourself a most worthy courtier. You have served us so bravely – first in the battle against the Dark Hordes, and now this! I wouldn’t be surprised if we knighted you too, one day, alongside your brother, despite your young age.”
I stifled a laugh at the thought of Rodney’s shocked face when he found out that his kid sister was in the running for one of the highest honors in the land.
Immediately I felt waves of pride and gratitude coursing through me. Somehow I was tapping into Rose’s emotions, just as I had tapped into Breena’s; I was experiencing Rose’s joy, Rose’s slight embarrassment, that the Summer King thought so highly of her.
But why? If Rose was in love with me – was she forcing this connection all by herself, just as I had perhaps forced the connection with Breena? But no – it could not be! Telepathy required the powers of both parties to work – there was no such thing as one-sided telepathy.
And yet – as beautiful as Rose was – I’d certainly never thought of her this way before. But as I looked over at her radiant smile, her glowing cheeks, her bright red hair, I felt stirrings of physical desire as I had not felt for a long time. A genuine, powerful longing for someone who was not Breena.
It’s all very well and good that the King thinks so highly of you, I heard Rose think. But if only HE would notice me…don’t be stupid, Rose, this is a great honor! The King wishes to praise you.
And yet even now, all you can think of is HIM. Of what he would think of you, of what being known as the Lady Rose would mean for his opinion of you. Is that what you want to be – some girlish fool? No, Rose, you must forget him. Forget Logan – he thinks only of Breena…remember how lucky you are to have a thriving career as an alchemist, friends that love you, a boy that…
Oh, poor Alistair…
Rose’s thoughts were full of sadness and resignation, and I flushed to hear them. I didn’t want to know that her feelings for Alistair weren’t as strong as his for her – how could I ever face Alistair again, knowing the truth about his love’s emotions?
Wake up, Logan, I tried to force myself. Get away.
And then it happened. My eyes flew open. I was hyperventilating, but awake.
“What the…”
I tried to make sense of what had just passed as my eyes adjusted to the flickering light of dawn, the brightness that swept over the plains.
But then I caught sight of stars.
It was a still night – the moon and twinkling stars were scattered across the heavens.
But the light…
And then I felt the heat, the prickling, burning heat against my face, and I knew what it was `I was seeing.
Fire.
Chapter 15
“Wake up!” Pan was running all around our campsite, rousing the rest of us. “Hurry – time to fight!”
“Fight?” Jeremy murmured sleepily, poking his head out of the tent. “Who are we fighting?”
A bolt of shooting flame – scorching the earth just inches from the tent – provided an answer.
“Dragons!” Pan shouted into Jeremy’s face. “And they’ve come looking for a good brawl.”
“I’ll get Cary,” Jeremy said, the color draining from his face as he swiftly made the transition from sleep to battle, “he’s got experience fighting dragons – he used to be a scale-hawk, back before he joined the Frost Fire Knights. Cary!” He vanished inside the tent and I heard the sounds of neighs and whinnies as he woke up Cary.
I looked up into the night sky. There they were – long, lizard like creatures with scales that shimmered obsidian and silver, casting strange-colored shadows onto the ground. Their wings were gossamer, almost too delicate for their bodies, and they breathed fire from their nostrils as well as from their forked tongues.
“Careful!” cried Alistair as we nearly dodged being incinerated by a fireball.
“How many are there?” Cary galloped out of the tent at full speed, brandishing what looked like a bow with a net attached.
“Are you going to try to catch a dragon?” Jeremy looked dubious.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to try to do,” said Cary, his smile breaking into a look of cocksure arrogance. “How many?”
“Three,” said Barnaby, looking up at the sky.
“That’s not too bad,” said Cary. “I can take one at a time – can the rest of you distract them? I need them separated; my net can only support one…”
I nodded rapidly and began running as far away from Cary as I could, followed by Barnaby.
“Over here,” I threw a rock at one of the dragons, causing it to rear up with rage as it fixed its glare on me. “Hey, you big bully – come and get me!”
Barnaby joined in taunting the dragon as we ran, luring it closer and closer to where we were, away from its companions. Alistair and Jeremy were doing something similar with a second dragon; Alistair was throwing fire bolts of his own from the tips of his fingers, while Jeremy was extinguishing the dragons’ fire with ice that swiftly melted into water, quenching the flame. I smiled bitterly. Even now, fairies have the upper hand, I thought, watching Alistair’s Autumn magic and Jeremy’s Winter magic converge.
Before long, however, we’d managed to bring down not one, not two, but all three dragons, each one felled by Cary’s expert arrows, which – carrying with them a net tied to the end – managed to tangle the dragons within their tight threads and force them to the earth.
“Now,” said Cary without a smile. “Let’s see what all this is about, shall we?”
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. “I can only guess…” The Minotaur experience had left a bad taste in my mouth. “You thought we were going to attack you, first?”
One of the dragons snorted out fire. “I know your plot,” he hissed. “I know what the Wolf Fey plan to do with us when they regain their magic. And let me guarantee you – we’ll get you first! My people are strong; we are proud; we are brave. We do not give in easily. You will not destroy us…”
“Hold it right there,” I said. “I’ve heard this once already this week, and I’m not about to listen to it again. We have no ill will towards you, Dragon, and we never have had. It is you who have attacked us, unprovoked…”
“Because we heard what you had planned for us! We decided a pre-emptive strike was our best option if we wanted to preserve the pride and strength of the dragons.”
“And how did you know it was true?” I was losing my patience. “Or did you just strike without bothering to check the facts – and risk your life and mine in the process. The Minotaurs behaved just as you did – getting several of my friends and cousins killed or injured –and with just as little cause! We have no intention of invading others – we have seen what havoc the Fairy War wreaked on Feyland, and have no desire whatsoever to do likewise to this beloved place. What made you think that we had something against you?”
“We heard from another that you had this planned,” said the dragon.
“And you didn’t bother to verify your facts?” I could feel my face heating up with anger. “You sent your people to fight in a battle that could have resulted in needless slaughter – just as the Minotaurs had done.” I winced at the memory.
The dragon l
ooked ashamed, then, its beady eyes looking down at the ground, avoiding my gaze. “It wasn’t like that…” It said.
But I sighed as I realized the truth. Somebody had duped both the dragons and the Minotaurs into believing that we Wolf Fey planned war, and had tried to trick them into attacking us. But who was it? Who could it be? Who would be trying to stop the Wolf Fey from regaining their magic?
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alistair subtly signaling me, his expression grave. He looked as if he wanted to talk – but his expression made one thing clear. He wanted to talk to me alone.
I turned to the others. “Alistair,” I said, “and I are going to get some firewood for the campfire. All this fighting has made me hungry – and it’s time for a meal. I must say, I’m tempted by the idea of dragon stew. Don’t worry,” I turned to the trussed-up dragons, “I’m only kidding but let me make one thing clear. If you hadn’t given up when you did, you’d be on the breakfast menu right about now. Cary, Pan, Barnaby, Jeremy – can you watch the dragons?”
“We’ll do so!” Cary promised.
When Alistair and I were out of earshot of the others, I turned to him. “What is it?” I asked him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Sit, please,” Alistair motioned at a log across from where we stood, and I took a seat. Alistair sat down next to me, furrowing his brow, looking decidedly perplexed. “The dragons…” Alistair began. “The Minotaurs…they all came convinced that the Wolf Fey were about to regain their magical powers and that they could stop it by attacking us. But why us? Why not some other wolves? Unless they think, for whatever reason, that we have what the Wolf Fey need. That we have the Wolfstone, which they seem to think is the cause of all their woes. Or future woes, as the case may be. I’m an alchemist, and in Feyland, an alchemist is one of the most learned of all professions when it comes to the study of magic. We study, we work, we dedicate our whole lives to becoming masters of the arts of magic. So I’ve had it my whole life. I’ve grown up immersed in it, surrounded by it. I was born with magic, but more than that – I cultivated it. Many Fey who rarely use magic lose much of their potential early on. But as an alchemist, I’ve only ever improved in my skills. Which means it can be terribly easy for me to take magic and its myriad uses for granted. Many fairies do, after all – especially those of us who have never been without it. But for someone like Queen Breena, for whom magic is a relatively new thing – it becomes all the more important. I think that’s part of what makes her such a good Queen. Being new to magic, she’s had to learn what it is, how it works, how to use it. She takes it seriously as only someone new to it can do. The older we fey get, the more experience we accumulate – the better we know how to harvest it, to use it, to control it. But for those of us who are new to magic and our ways, the effect can be difficult at first, even overwhelming.” Alistair paused for a moment, clearing his throat. He looked up at me with shining eyes as he continued.
“Tell me, Wolf Prince, leader of the Wolf Fey, since we knights have made a solemn and unbreakable vow to protect one another, and since I and my men have been willing to risk our lives to protect yours – I must ask you, as one soldier to another: do you think there is any truth in the fears of the dragons, or of the Minotaurs? If Wolf magic does return to this world, will you as the leader of the Wolves be able to contain it? Because I am starting to wonder if those thousands of years of fey magic bottled up inside that Wolfstone are closer than perhaps you care to realize at this moment?” He stared at me with searching eyes, and I knew that Alistair had begun to suspect me of having access to the Wolfstone.
“What do you mean, friend Alistair?” I avoided his gaze, trying to keep my voice calm and methodical as I turned my back towards him, trying to cloud any hint of my secret that might become evident in my eyes. “Surely you don’t think I know anything?”
“I would never suggest that outright, my good friend,” Alistair said, “but I want to ensure that you know what challenges do await you if what the Minotaurs and dragons say turns out to be true. I want to ensure that nobody in your ranks – not the proud Josephine or warlike Gideon nor any Wolves – might be over-eager to elicit what can only be known as “payback” from those who may in the past have offended your kind, or lorded their magic over them? I want to ensure that you know how difficult keeping all of Feyland safe will be if the Wolfstone does indeed resurface.
“Which…” Alistair kept looking at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. “I’m beginning to think might happen very, very soon indeed.”
Chapter 16
I gulped as I listened to what Alistair had to say. He was looking at me with searching eyes, his caramel-colored irises widening as he looked past my face, into my soul. He knew something – of that much I was sure. He might not have known that I had the Wolfstone, but he at least knew that I had some power beyond his comprehension.
I had to be careful with what I said next. I didn’t want to give away more information than necessary, but if Alistair was already onto the fact that I was hiding something from him, the last thing I wanted to do was make him more suspicious than he already was.
“Yes,” I said at last with a deep sigh. “What you say is true. There is so much good that a Wolf with Fey Magic can do. Not just for Feyland, but also for the Land Beyond the Crystal River. After all, Wolves belong in both worlds – human and fairy – why should we not improve the lot of both our homes?” I rose and began to fill my arms with firewood, shivering in the cool morning air. I didn’t want Alistair to see my face, and so I turned away. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate your concerns, Alistair. I do – really I do. These ominous visions seen by the Minotaurs and dragons of what it might be like when the Wolves regain our magic – regain, I might add, what is rightfully ours – are frightening indeed. I can see why you might be worried that the Wolf Fey would be warlike the way the Pixies are. Right now, though, we have no reason to fear that the Wolves are planning any kind of attack. It’s the words of the Minotaur and Dragon against mine. I know that’s not too much…”
“It’s much indeed!” Alistair shot in quickly, embarrassed at the implications of his earlier words.
“But at least it’s something.” I felt my cheeks grow hot with anger – not at Alistair, exactly, but with how easy it was for him to dismiss the idea of Wolf power as something dangerous, a threat. Did Alistair think of us the way some other fairies did – as mere animals, mere beasts, unable to cope with any power we might be given? “I don’t think there’s any reason for you to suspect my people of being warlike, or having dangerous designs on Feyland. Even if we were to receive our magic once more – which I’m not saying we are – why shouldn’t we regain what’s rightfully ours? Not just magic, but the right to protect ourselves, to make sure our families are fed, to make sure that the land of generations’ worth of Wolves, for which my grandfather and his grandfather too fought and even died, gets preserved in the hands – or paws – of our kind? Why must you fear us taking what is rightfully ours?”
“Calm down, brother!” Alistair smiled softly as he patted my arm and motioned for me to sit down once more. Fighting the urge to snarl or howl, I sat down, as politely as I could. “There’s no need to get worked up over this, Logan, my friend, no reason at all. I was not at all implying anything, nor was I attempting to cast any aspersions on your kind. I was saying nothing more and nothing less than that magic – particularly the kind that you and your Wolves will inherit if these prophecies turn out to be real – is serious business. And the magic you inherit in particular will be different, vastly different, from the likes of anything than we have seen before in Feyland. It is not merely Feyland magic, but something more – something stronger. Something new. The magic that comes from being wild, being free – from a history, long and storied, on the outskirts of Fey society, of interaction with the mortal world…” Alistair sighed. “What I meant to say – but what is coming out all wrong – is that you Wolves are already a formidable clan,
even without magic. So much so that Queen Breena herself entrusted the command of the Summer armies to you during the time of the war with the Dark Hordes.” Alistair scratched his head as he fumbled for words. “I guess what I am trying to tell you is this – that you wolves have so much already. Bravery and nobility, without even having the safety blanket of magic or the promise of immortality to back you up. If you wolves do regain your magic, you will be more than rivals for us – you will be unstoppable.” He paused on this word, letting it sink in fully. “That will frighten and threaten many who live here in Feyland. And I don’t think the dragons are the last of those who want to pre-emptively strike before such an event occurs. Pixies, banshees, you don’t know who is coming after you next, and neither do I. And it means you’ll have to keep the Wolfstone safe until the truth is revealed, and the prophecy unleashed.”
Alistair had said so much at once that it took time for me to let his words sink in. Alistair was painting a picture at once magnetic and terrifying – the vision of my kind as not merely a worthy counterpart to the Fey, but potentially the most powerful creatures in the land. I thought of rogue wolves I had known in the past – my cousin Paris, the bloodthirsty Balthazar – and shuddered. What would having this much magic mean for the Wolf Fey? Would we be able to restrain ourselves – or would we take what we saw as rightfully ours – Feyland itself – without caring about the all too real cost of innocent civilians’ lives and livelihoods, Fey and Wolf alike?
And then it hit me. The words that Alistair had used. He knew about the Wolfstone.
My hands instinctively shot to my pocket, but it was too late. Alistair had already taken a step toward me, his hands rubbing up and down my body as he sought that hidden firmness I had tried for so long to keep a secret.