The Edge of Strange Hollow

by Gabrielle K. Byrne

  The male guard frowned and cast an uncertain look at the other, who had gone quite pale. Then his mouth twitched. He began to laugh—a rough, grating sound.

  Poppy smirked.

  “You have no idea, do you,” he said as the female guard grew even paler. “The queen is going to have your hide!”

  “She won’t,” Poppy insisted. “She’ll tell you that you did the right thing.”

  The guard seemed to take a breath.

  Poppy turned to the male guard. “Want to know the answer?”

  “Don’t tell him,” the guard grumbled, crossing her arms.

  Poppy met the guard’s eyes and smiled. “Do you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Your victory. It’s only a silly riddle—a child’s game. What’s the answer?”

  Poppy tried not to look smug. “A shadow.”

  “Good one,” he admitted when he had thought it through.

  “Well,” the female guard sneered. “You better hope she’s right about the queen as well, or we’re both mulch.”

  Poppy dropped the apple back into her pack as Nula appeared at her side. Both she and Mack watched the guards as they passed.

  “They’re with me,” Poppy reminded.

  The male guard threw up his hands. “Go on, then. Our fate’s in the queen’s hands.” He gave Dog an admiring glance. “But feel free to leave your cerberus in our care. They’re the first I’ve seen.” His black eyes shone at her from the shadows of his face. “Or perhaps I could win them from you. Another riddle?”

  “They stay with me,” Poppy said firmly. Dog was the best thing her parents had ever done. She wasn’t letting them out of her sight.

  “I can’t believe your riddle trick worked!” Mack blurted as the three of them passed under the archway of rowan trees.

  “It’s the Grimwood,” Nula said irritably. “Of course it worked! Riddles are like gold coins around here—everyone takes them.”

  Poppy grinned. “Guess faeries aren’t so smart after all.”

  Mack tried to frown at her, but laughed despite himself. “Okay then, now what, oh wise one?”

  “Now, we go see what the queen knows about the Soul Jar.” Poppy grimaced.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Faery Queen was easy to find. There were no rooms or alcoves in her “throne room”—just places where the trees had been cleared and replaced with sharp, manicured hedges and lawns, trimmed in geometric shapes, and arched trellises. They were marked by tall vases used as if they were exclamation points. Everything was tidy and tightly controlled. Even the vines were trained to do as they were told, spreading gracefully across the spaces between the trees in pleasing symmetrical designs, like screens—or walls—on the outside edges of the garden. They grew denser as Poppy and her friends moved forward. Crystal raindrops hung in the trees and in the trellises, catching the light and shooting rainbows over the ground.

  Poppy shuddered. It all reminded her of a series of tunnel webs, leading them along. The delicate green beauty should have been pleasing, but it made Poppy’s skin crawl. It was so perfect it turned her stomach, like overripe fruit, too colorful and too sweet.

  The dulcet tones of a harp floated on the air, growing louder as they moved deeper into the wood. They saw no houses anywhere—no signs of a village or of life generally, just the open gardens through the trees, and the dense screens of vines, narrowing as they walked.

  Poppy gave Mack a questioning look.

  He pointed one finger upward. “They live in the canopy,” he explained.

  The harp music grew louder, and they passed between two hedges in bloom, the sweet scent of their tiny white blossoms thick and cloying. They’d been trimmed to look like Fae, with blossoms for eyes, and a spill of flowers for hair. The blooms poured out of their open palms and open mouths.

  A long path covered in white snowdrops opened, stretching to a point ahead of them. The flowers beneath their feet let off a bruised scent as they walked over them. Dog sneezed.

  The scent stuck to the back of Poppy’s throat, and for some reason, this, more than anything else, made Poppy wonder if going to the faeries might be a mistake. She hadn’t realized how much light and fresh air there was in the green iron tang of the wood. She hadn’t noticed it, she supposed, because it was everywhere. Everywhere but here. Here, the Grimwood smelled as though it had been sitting too long in the sun.

  She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. At the very tip of the white path, the Faery Queen sat on a throne of gnarled black wood, polished to gleaming and shot through with silver—but that wasn’t what made her gasp. It was the enormous spiders, nearly as large as horses, stretching along the path to the throne. There were at least ten of them, each accompanied by a faery handmaiden standing nearby to help spin out their silk into skeins. Large baskets sat on the ground, filled with the completed skeins.

  The Faery Queen cleared her throat, and Poppy’s eyes snapped back to her. She was tall. Taller than any of the others, and needle thin. Her gown was made of spider lace, covered in tiny diamonds—or at least Poppy thought they might be diamonds. Then again, they might be crystals … or dew drops. All she knew was she didn’t want to get close enough to find out.

  The queen’s face was gaunt, and deep blue—with a bruised, shadowed look below her dark eyes and across her cheekbones. She watched them approach almost eagerly, her thin lip curling as her gaze fell on Nula.

  Nula flushed and dropped into a deep curtsy. “Great Queen,” she began as Mack and Poppy scrambled to sketch bows of their own. “You who are wise beyond measure, lovelier than stars, strong as the—”

  “I see my hedge did not deter you, pooka. But never mind. You’ve brought strangers.” The queen’s voice was airy and high, like breath through a bell, and Poppy thought that if she heard that voice in a moonlit glade, she would never in a million years picture the queen as she really looked.

  Poppy drew up, and beside her, Mack shifted his weight. “We’re seeking information, Your Majesty,” she interjected. “Nula says your people know everything there is to know in the Grimwood.”

  The force of the queen’s consideration fell on Poppy, and it was like being pinned by a curious collector. Sweat broke out across her forehead.

  “That is true,” said the queen.

  “I hope what I brought pleases you,” Nula interrupted.

  The queen stilled. “We shall see, Fionnula of the pooka-kind. They interest me adequately.”

  Nula bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  The queen’s eyes fell on Dog. “Let’s have a look at that cerberus!” Her long fingers, black at the nails, gripped the smooth arms of her throne as she rose. Each side was carved to look like an arm itself, ending in hands carved into fists. “How did a human come to have such a treasure?” the Faery Queen purred.

  Poppy’s heart sped as she gripped Dog’s collar. She wished—truly wished—for the first time that she’d left them at home. Something about the queen made her want to tuck all her friends into the shadows. “They were a gift from my parents,” she said. “That’s why I’m here—my parents, I mean.”

  The Faery Queen’s grip relaxed, but her attention seemed to sharpen. “Go on.”

  “I—my parents … David and Jasmine Bright. They hunt maledictions.”

  The Faery Queen gave a derisive sniff. “Are you here to accuse me of something, girl?”

  “What? I’m not—I just hoped…” Poppy steeled her spine and continued. “I want to know what you know about a certain malediction. It’s called the Soul Jar. I want to know if you know where it is, or how to … how to get someone out of it. I think my parents might be stuck inside.”

  The queen studied Nula. “What makes you think I have those answers?” She paused. “And if I did, why would I give them to you? Your people are nothing to me.”

  “I have some gold. I’ll give it to you—I just … I just need to know if you know anything about the Soul Jar—or my parents.”

>   The queen exhaled, weaving her long fingers across her chest as she moved to recline again in her throne. “That is interesting.”

  Mack stilled. “What can you tell us?”

  Her head snapped to him, almost as if she hadn’t seen him until he spoke. “An elf! Fascinating.” She turned to Poppy again. “You do travel in interesting company, girl. I have decided, however, on the cost of your answers.” She examined her pointed nails. “I would like your cerberus.”

  “What? No!”

  Nula shifted uneasily next to her. “You won’t have a choice, Poppy,” she mumbled. “You can’t say no to the Faery Queen.”

  “No!”

  Next to her, Mack had let out a low snarl.

  “I will not,” Poppy told the queen.

  The queen’s face hardened. “You are not worthy of this creature.”

  “Dog is my family, and you can’t have them.”

  The queen’s fingers wrapped tightly around the fists of her throne. “I see. You offer me gold coins?”

  “Not coins—it’s … it’s a gold locket. But yes, I offer a trade. Gold, in exchange for information.”

  “Gold I have already, in uncountable amounts.”

  Poppy said nothing.

  Another sniff. “Join my court.”

  “Yes!” Nula cried.

  The queen frowned. “I’m not talking to you—pooka.” Her voice could have cut glass. “There is no gift that could prevail upon me to let the lesser folk into my midst.”

  Nula’s ears flattened, and Poppy felt a pang of pity for her friend. Then she realized what the queen had just said. “You’re asking … me to join your court?” Poppy sputtered.

  The queen held out her arms as if putting her realm on display. “You interest me. I see you are braver than others of your kind. And you seem to attract the attention of the Grimwood folk—that interests me too.” She flicked her fingers at Mack and Nula. “What do they see in you, I wonder.”

  Poppy’s mouth had gone dry. She should feel honored, probably, but instead she was slightly nauseous.

  “What is your name?” the queen asked, her voice like a barb.

  “Poppy … um, Pandora Sunshine, Your Majesty.”

  The queen studied her, taking in her all-black clothing and serious expression. “Your parents have a sense of humor, then.”

  “What?” Poppy said blankly.

  “And what is your answer, Pandora?”

  Mack gripped her arm. “Don’t do it, Poppy. If you agree, they’ll keep you here forever. You’ll just be another servant to her.”

  “Shush, elf.” The queen flicked her finger and a glob of spider’s web threw itself over Mack’s mouth. “You speak too freely.”

  “Mack!” Poppy cried, helpless as she watched him peel the sticky web away from his face and struggle to get it off his hands.

  The queen looked smug, but when Poppy turned to ask Nula what to do, she saw that her friend’s blue skin had gone so pale she was almost white. Poppy startled at the inexplicable hurt in Nula’s gold eyes.

  “Well?” the queen asked. “Will you be honored among all other humans?” She clapped her hands, and all the spiders’ handmaidens moved toward the throne.

  “Umm. I—you honor me, great Queen.”

  “I do! Wonderful—”

  “But unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to accept. I apologize, Your Majesty, but I came here to trade gold for information, and gold is all I have to offer.”

  A pause, and the air seemed to grow heavy around her. The queen’s expression forced Poppy back a step. The thought flew through her head that maybe they should just leave. “If you don’t know about my parents”—she hurried to get the words out—“then … maybe you can just point me in the direction of the Soul Jar…?”

  A longer pause. Mack drew back a step, pulling Poppy with him.

  The queen’s voice was cold—dripping with venom. “Very well, Poppy Sunshine.” She nodded at the nearest handmaiden, who stepped forward and held out her hand. Poppy hurriedly fished out her locket and poured it into the faery’s cold palm. Despite the pang in her chest as the queen’s fingers closed around it, relief washed over her. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  The handmaiden returned to the queen’s side.

  “Your parents I know nothing of—and care nothing for,” the queen began. “But I can indeed put you on the path of the Soul Jar.”

  Poppy took an involuntary step forward. “You can? Thank you! I—”

  The queen held up the locket. “A little gold piece of your heart, however, is not enough.”

  Poppy froze.

  “You will not part with your cerberus. You will not join my court.” Her long fingers drummed on the arm of her throne. “It seems to me you have altogether too much will for someone so weak.” Her fingers stopped. “So! You must pay with the sweat of your brow. I will give you a challenge. Complete it, and I will acknowledge you worthy of the information that you seek. Fail, and I take what I want from you in exchange. That is a bargain worth making.”

  “Poppy…,” Mack warned.

  “Done!” Poppy snapped as Mack bristled at her side.

  The slow smile that grew on the queen’s face forced Poppy back another step. Should she have taken more time to consider? She forced herself to stand straighter. “What’s the challenge?”

  The queen nodded toward another handmaiden. The slight faery, eyes downcast, brought her a small blue bottle.

  “Your challenge is a song.”

  “A song?”

  The queen smiled. Her teeth were small and pale. “Take this bottle.”

  Poppy stepped forward and took it, hurrying back to Mack’s side.

  “I warn you, however. Do not open it. It was made specifically to hold the Valkyries’ battle song.”

  The bottle was smooth and cold in her hand, despite the heat of the day. “But I don’t—”

  The queen waved her hand. “You have twenty-four hours. If you’re late, or return without the song, my bargain is won.”

  “Twenty-four hours? You never said—”

  The queen’s dark brows rose. “All Fae agreements are either for the duration of a single day, or for the duration of a year and a day … or, occasionally, one hundred years and a day. Everyone knows this. It is our way. Besides which, I was under the impression, girl, that you were in a hurry.”

  There was no way she was leaving her parents trapped inside a malediction for a year! “Fine. A day. Twenty-four hours.”

  The queen gave a nod, her smile wide. “As you wish. Our bargain is struck. As a show of good faith, I will suggest you begin at the bluff meadow.”

  Nula’s voice was barely a whisper. “Your Grace … Your Grace, if I could just ask…”

  “I don’t like your face, pooka.”

  Poppy gave an audible gasp, her eyes shooting to Nula. The pooka looked stricken.

  Poppy hadn’t liked the Faery Queen before—but now a curl of anger heated her belly.

  “Your kind are weak and cowardly,” the queen continued. “You have nothing to offer me that I desire except your absence.”

  Mack hissed like he’d been burned, and Nula seemed to shrink back as though each word was a punch.

  “Go now, before I get rid of you permanently. That is my thanks.”

  Nula spun around. The look she shot at Poppy felt like a blow.

  Poppy opened her mouth to apologize—she wasn’t sure what for—but before she could utter a word, Nula tucked her head and fled. She didn’t even bother to change forms.

  “Nula!” Poppy called, but the pooka was gone.

  Poppy turned to Mack, but he wouldn’t look at her. Without saying a word, they hurried after Nula. They only stopped to rest when they were far enough away that they could no longer hear the music of the harp on the breeze.

  It was as if the forest came back to life around them. Even the air was warmer. Poppy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and lifted up the littl
e bottle to the light.

  It was small, about the size of her palm. The pale blue glass shimmered a little when she turned it. They had twenty-four hours to find the Valkyries and catch their song. Then she’d get all the information she needed about the Soul Jar and track it down. A surge of anxiety raced through her.

  Behind her Mack was strangely quiet. She turned, thinking she’d show him the bottle, but stumbled back in surprise. He was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at her with his copper eyes flashing as if they could set fire to the trees.

  He didn’t wait for her to ask what was wrong.

  “How could you?”

  “What?”

  “You swore. You promised me you wouldn’t bargain with the faeries.”

  Heat rushed to Poppy’s cheeks. “Mack—they’re my parents! I—”

  He stabbed a hand into his hair. “I know! I know they’re your parents, Pop. I get it. But you can’t find them if you get killed on the way!”

  “Get killed? Mack! You’re overreacting.”

  “No—stop saying that! Stop calling me a worrier—that’s just your excuse not to listen to me and you know it!”

  “An excuse? Are you kidding me?” Poppy felt something snap inside her and stomped forward to yell in his face. “MY PARENTS ARE TRAPPED! I have the best excuse in the world.”

  Mack’s face contorted, the hurt in his eyes knocking Poppy back better than a shove. “If you cared about me … you would have kept your promise. You would trust me and let me help. But you don’t,” he snarled. “Not when it counts.”

  Poppy couldn’t believe this was happening. Her voice rose to a wail against her will. “I do trust—”

  “You made a deal with the Faery Queen, Poppy! Do you even know what a Valkyrie is … or how to find the bluff meadow?”

  “I—”

  He met her eyes. “How far is it? Is it dangerous? How do we catch their song?”

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I have to do it! And it doesn’t help to have you second-guessing every choice I make! I have to find them. How can you even think I would say no—if there’s a chance?”