by Heidi Lang
“My dream was a little more solitary,” Lailu complained.
“Oh pishposh,” Hannah said. “You can’t keep this rivalry going forever.”
“Watch me,” Lailu threatened, but after a moment she sighed and glanced at the pie in Greg’s hands. It did look delicious. “Fine, I’ll eat your pie,” she decided. “But you’re still a lousy weasel.”
Greg laughed. “I’m willing to accept that. For now.”
44
FAIRY STARS
Lailu, Greg, and Hannah settled outside, eating their apple pie in the flickering lamplight on the doorstep of Mystic Cooking. There wasn’t a lot of space, but for once Lailu appreciated being sandwiched in the middle. Sitting here with her friends on either side, she felt like she belonged. Like she wasn’t alone. Slipshod might be gone, but Hannah was going to stay on and help, at least for a while. And Lailu knew she’d always have her rivalry with Greg. That wasn’t going anywhere. Even if it was more of a friendly competition now. A competition that she still planned to win.
“You know, we should set up a patio out here,” Hannah suggested. “Some permanent seating, a few sun umbrellas. I think it would be really popular.”
“I’ll have to ask Slip—” Lailu stopped. She took a bite of pie, trying to enjoy its cinnamon-y sweetness. “I’ll think about it.” It would be her decision now. Everything would be her decision.
Hannah bumped Lailu’s shoulder with her own. “We’ll be okay.” Lailu hoped she was right.
“It’s almost time,” Greg announced.
“Time for what?” Lailu took another bite of pie. She hated to admit it, but Greg really had a knack for baking a flaky, delicious crust.
“For the fairy stars!”
Lailu frowned. “The what, now?”
“You haven’t seen them? They come sweeping through the city every year at this time,” Greg explained around a mouthful of pie. He swallowed, then continued, “There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, and they fly over the rivers and through the streets until they leave the city through the Velvet Forest. So we should have front row seats here.”
“How have I missed this?” Lailu asked.
“Same reason I’ve missed it the past few years: we were too busy at the Academy. If we weren’t hunting, we weren’t exactly spending a lot of time outside.”
“True.” Lailu and Greg shared a smile.
“Oh look, we’re not the only ones stopping out here to watch.” Hannah pointed at a group of merchants leading horse-drawn carts with all their wares.
Lailu recognized them, with their brightly colored wagon and long, flowing skirts. It was her mom’s traveling companions.
Her last bite of pie stuck in her throat. “Actually, they’re probably meeting my mom,” she said softly. “She travels with them.”
“Oh,” Hannah said. She and Greg exchanged a look over Lailu’s head.
“Surely she’ll say goodbye first,” Greg began.
“No, probably not.” Lailu set her empty plate down. “She usually just leaves.”
“Want to go see them?” Hannah asked.
Hannah’s shoulder felt comforting against hers, and Lailu knew that she at least had Hannah as her family here in the city. “No,” Lailu said. “It’s better this way.”
The caravan had moved almost out of sight when Greg suddenly grabbed Lailu’s arm. “Here they come!” He gestured at the sky with his fork just as a wave of colorful lights came pouring down the streets, their natural glow enhanced by the damp mist. With a start, Lailu realized they weren’t just lights. They were pixies. They made everything in this poor part of town more colorful, more beautiful, like frosting on a cake. Lailu could see why they were called the fairy stars.
As the pixies zipped past, she couldn’t help but remember Eirad’s promise: Don’t worry, little chef. We’ll let them all go after the final night of the Week of Masks.
Lailu tried to enjoy the view, but she knew this was more than just a pretty show of lights. This meant the elves had returned to the Western Travel District to release the remaining pixies. Despite their banishment, they weren’t leaving the city.
“Wow,” Hannah breathed, eyes wide, and Lailu decided to keep her fears to herself. There would be time for them later.
As the last pixie vanished into the Velvet Forest, Hannah yawned and stood up. “I’ll take your plates. See you in the morning, Lailu.” She gathered their dishes and headed inside.
Lailu was suddenly very aware that she was alone with Greg, both of them crammed together on the front step. She could feel his shoulder brushing hers through her wool coat, could hear him breathing, could practically feel the beating of his heart.
She reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face just as Greg adjusted the collar of his coat, and as they both lowered their arms, the backs of their hands bumped against each other.
Lailu froze, her knuckles still lightly grazing Greg’s. Then slowly, tentatively, he turned his hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him carefully not looking at her.
She swallowed, her face hot, but she didn’t pull away. She just sat there, shoulder-to-shoulder, hand in hand, with the boy she thought she hated. And she felt . . . she felt like she did when she was cooking, when all her ingredients were lined up and she was about to create one of her favorite recipes. Like everything was right where it should be.
“So . . . ,” Greg said at last.
“Y-yes?”
“Am I still a lousy weasel?”
Lailu laughed, something inside her relaxing. “Greg, you’ll always be a lousy weasel.” She let go of his hand and stood. “Good night, Master Chef LaSilvian.”
His smile was small and sweet. “Good night, Master Chef Loganberry,” he returned, and before he could ruin that one nice moment by saying anything else, Lailu slipped back inside Mystic Cooking, closing the door softly behind her.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
Lailu jumped. “Mom? You’re still here?”
Lianna sat warming her hands around a cup of tea, the newspaper in front of her. She looked very well settled, not at all like someone about to leave.
“Of course I’m still here, sweetheart.”
“I thought . . .” Lailu took a shaky breath, then tried again. “I saw the caravan leaving, and I thought you had left with it.”
Lianna set her teacup down. “I was planning on going with them originally,” she admitted. “But I thought about what you said the other day. And you’re right. Even dragons can choose to stay grounded. And I have decided to stay for a while. That is, if you still want me here.”
Lailu’s jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Really. I know Sullivan is leaving. He told me his news. And honey, you try to do so much on your own all the time. You need people you can lean on.” She stood up. “I want to be one of those people, if you’ll let me. I know I haven’t always been, but I’m going to try to change.” Her hazel eyes filled with tears. “Do you believe me?”
Lailu sniffed. “I believe you.” And for the first time in a long time, when her mother hugged her, it didn’t feel like it was a lie.
“Hey, Lailu, someone left this by your back door.” Hannah waltzed in, a small wooden box tucked under her arm. “There’s no note. Maybe a graduation gift?”
Lailu took it. It wasn’t much larger than her hand and heavier than it looked. Shrugging, she lifted the lid.
Something metallic sprang from the box.
Yelping, Lailu dropped it and took a step back.
Click. Click. Click.
One of Wren’s spi-trons whirled, its blue light flashing as it scuttled in place. “Message for Lailu,” it chirped.
“It can talk?” Hannah squealed.
“Must be a new development,” Lailu said.
“Message for Lailu,” the thing chirped again.
“Um, this is Lailu,” Lailu said slowly.
The thing turned, its blue light illuminatin
g Lailu’s face. “This is just a test. One . . . two . . . three . . . die! ”
The light turned red, and the spi-tron exploded.
Lailu moved fast, knocking a table over to use as a shield as Hannah and her mom ducked behind it. When nothing else happened, they peered carefully over the top of the table, coughing at the acrid smell of smoke. A pile of broken, jagged metal parts lay on the ground surrounded by a blackened singe mark.
“Well,” Hannah said, breaking the silence. “That can’t be good.”
“I know. Just look at my cherrywood floor,” Lailu fretted.
“Honey, this is much worse than a damaged floor.” Lianna’s face was pinched with worry.
Lailu sighed. “I know, Mom.”
“What does it mean?” Hannah asked.
Lailu had a sudden vivid memory of asking her mom that same question, just days ago, and she went cold. She knew exactly what it meant.
“It means Wren blames Lailu for her mother’s death,” Lianna said.
Lailu flinched, but she forced herself to say the rest. “It means war. It means I’m at war. With the scientists.” She pictured Wren’s cold-blooded killing of the cockatrice and hugged herself. Master Slipshod was gone. She would have to deal with this on her own.
Hannah picked up one of the pieces, then dropped it again. “I guess I’d better dust off Mr. Smacky.”
“You’re keeping the name?” Lailu asked, her heart swelling.
Hannah sighed. “I’m keeping the name,” she said reluctantly. “Now let’s clean this up. We’re open for business tomorrow, after all.”
“Yes, we are.” Lailu grinned, realizing something. Master Slipshod might be leaving, but she wasn’t alone. She had Hannah, she had her mother—she even had Greg, who, for all his faults, maybe wasn’t so bad after all. And with them on her side, she could handle a rogue scientist and a pack of elves who refused to be banished.
Banished.
Lailu froze, Ryon’s words about Fahr echoing through her memory: This enchantment scheme was done with his approval. What he thought they would accomplish . . . of course Elister would banish them after this stunt. And then Eirad’s words from the First Night of Masks: Fahr promised Elister that as long as we remained denizens of Twin Rivers, we would not kill anyone under his protection.
“What is it, honey?” Lianna asked as Lailu’s face paled.
“If someone has been banished from Twin Rivers, does that mean they are no longer a denizen of the city?” Lailu asked.
“Right.” Then Lianna’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”
“What?” Hannah asked.
“I think,” Lailu said slowly, “that the elves have found their loophole.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are so thankful to everyone who made their mark on this second installment of Lailu’s adventure. First of all, our amazing agent, Jennifer Azantian, who has been Lailu’s champion through thick and thin, and Ben Baxter, one of Lailu’s very first fans. We couldn’t have asked for a better team, and we are grateful to be part of the ALA family.
Another huge thank-you to Sarah McCabe and Fiona Simpson, our rock-star editors. You consistently amaze us with your thoughtful notes and edits, and we feel so privileged to be working with you both.
Also thanks to Angela Li for a truly fantastic cover illustration—we got chills the first time we saw those glowing red eyes—and Nina Simoneaux and Karin Paprocki for the cover design. And thank you to everyone else at Aladdin who helped in the making of this book: our publisher, Mara Anastas, and deputy publisher, Mary Marotta; Carolyn Swerdloff and Catherine Hayden in marketing; Christina Pecorale and the rest of the Simon & Schuster sales team; our production editor, Katherine Devendorf; and our publicist, Audrey Gibbons.
Writing a sequel was very challenging, and we couldn’t have done it without a lot of help and feedback from several incredible writers. First, Alan Wehrman, who not only noticed a gaping plot hole but helped brainstorm ways to fix it. We can’t thank you enough. Teresa Yea, for always keeping an eye on our pacing and helping us slash those unnecessary words. Suzi Guina, who was willing to read this series out of order to help us. And Moana Whipple, whose fast reading skills are seriously a superpower.
To the rest of our critique group: Miles Zarathustra, Colleen Smith, Meg M., and Joan McMillan—all those pages and pages of critiques are what helped shape our writing today. Thank you, always. Also a shout-out to Stephanie Garber—we think of you every time we write “slightly.” And to Sarah Glenn Marsh—any time we’ve needed a friendly, supportive word, you have been there. And to Liz Briggs—we’ll be #TeamBriggs forever.
To our family: Lyn and Bruce Lang, thank you for supporting this “writer in residence” and for your constant enthusiasm; our cousins Christy and Paul Buncic, who introduced us to anime when we were young and thus set us down this treacherous path; Rosi Reed, who has patiently tolerated our fictional depictions of villainous redheaded scientists; Ed Reed, official tiger buddy and enthusiastic support-giver; and our parents, Rose and Rich Bartkowski, who taught us to dream big and never doubted we’d make it.
And finally, to Nick Chen and Sean Lang, our partners in all of our undertakings, including this one. And to Ember—we hope you grow up to love Lailu as much as we do.
And to you, our readers and the reason we’re here. Thank you for joining Lailu on this next adventure.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Photograph of authors copyright © by Portia Shao with Positive Vista Photography & Art
Heidi Lang (right) & Kati Bartkowski (left) are a writing team of two sisters with twenty years of experience in judo. Heidi likes to fling food across her stove while attempting to cook new dishes, and Kati enjoys trying new cuisine at fancy restaurants. Between the two of them, they love creating characters that kick butt both inside and outside the kitchen.
Aladdin
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Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Heidi-Lang
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Also by Heidi Lang and Kati Bartkowski
A Dash of Dragon
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
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First Aladdin hardcover edition July 2018
Text copyright © 2018 by Heidi Lang and Kati Bartkowski
Jacket illustration copyright © 2018 by Angela Li
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Designed by Nina Simoneaux
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Lang, Heidi, author. | Bartkowski, Kati, author.
Title: A hint of hydra / by Heidi Lang and Kati Bartkowski.
Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2018. |
Summary: “Thirteen-year-old chef Lailu must uncover the truth behind a murder before the elves and the scientists of Twin Rivers declare war on each other”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017040024 (print) | LCCN 2017053143 (eBook) |
ISBN 9781481
477970 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481477956 (hc)
Subjects: | CYAC: Cooking—Fiction. | Animals, Mythical—Fiction. |
Robots—Fiction. | Elves—Fiction. | Fantasy. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION /
Humorous Stories. | JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Mythical. | JUVENILE
FICTION / Fantasy & Magic.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.L3436 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.1.L3436 Him 2018 (print) |
DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017040024