Lava Red Feather Blue

by Molly Ringle

  Merrick sighed, setting a mug of tea in front of Larkin. “I wish.”

  “But it’s not possible,” Cassidy said.

  “I rather thought the same,” Larkin admitted.

  Shadows had formed beneath Merrick’s eyes—his evening had surely become exhausting. But he said to Larkin, gamely enough, “Shall we show them?”

  CHAPTER 10

  MERRICK HAD GIVEN CASSIDY THE SHORT version on the way up the stairs. It involved a lot of pausing while Cassidy halted and stared at him and hissed, “What??”

  After introducing Larkin, Merrick brought in the tatters Larkin had been wearing, letting Cassidy examine the decaying shoes, iron sword, silk tunic, and cape with the royal coat-of-arms embroidered in astonishingly minute stitches. Larkin obligingly displayed the scars on his hands and the mole—not a fake beauty mark after all—beside his mouth, and answered Cassidy’s bewildered questions. Merrick also brought out the box of Rosamund’s items, which made Cassidy pull back their hand in alarm upon sensing the potency inside it—as a half-fae matter-witch, Cassidy could sense such things, although not to as detailed a degree as a faery could.

  Merrick drew the line, however, at reopening the portal in the Canopy Bedroom. “In case the guards have already noticed he’s gone,” Merrick said, “I don’t want us popping our heads in while they’re investigating.”

  Cassidy’s skin looked a few shades paler, their eyes wide. “No, right, good idea.” At the doorway to the bedroom, Cassidy turned to Larkin again. “So do I—Your Highness—we call you that, don’t we? I should probably kneel, or kiss your ring, or—”

  Larkin forestalled the idea with a raised hand, which did glint with a braided gold ring. “Not at all. ‘Larkin’ is sufficient, and ring-kissing is only for the king or queen.”

  “Okay. Then … ” Cassidy turned aside, tottered to the worn sofa in the library, and dropped onto it with a groan. “Merrick! What have you done?”

  “I was looking for the Lava Flow charm. To help Dad.” Merrick returned to the table, where Rosamund’s journal and box sat. “This seemed like a solid lead.” He stabbed a finger at the journal, open to the sketch with “To Lava Flower” written beside it.

  “Her Lava Flow charm had naught to do with me,” Larkin said, “nor do I see it among these items. It was a lump of lava rock chipped into an oval and imbued with her magic.”

  Cassidy waved their hand toward the prince. “The one in the museum. See? They already have it.”

  “Fine,” Merrick said, “then why did the portal open with a lava flower bead? What the hell is ‘to Lava Flower’ about?”

  “It was a jest.” Larkin’s voice sounded tight. “A nickname by which some referred to me.”

  Merrick blinked at him. “You’re Lava Flower?”

  “Because I’m red-haired and an overindulged royal. She was nothing if not irreverent.”

  Merrick cleared his throat. “That reminds me. She left you a letter.” He turned pages until reaching Rosamund’s letter, then pushed it closer to Larkin.

  Larkin went still.

  “I’m guessing you never got to read this,” Merrick added.

  Larkin lowered himself into the nearest chair and began to read.

  After exchanging an uneasy glance with Cassidy, Merrick sat in the other chair and sipped his cooled tea.

  Larkin’s face betrayed little, aside from a possible grinding of his teeth. He exhaled at the end of the letter and began turning pages back. “It tells me nothing. She said all this to me the night she trapped me in the spell. ‘It’s only temporary, Your Highness, I swear it. We must gain the peace and it must be a royal. I will yet free you.’ If you mean to tell me two hundred and twenty years have passed, and only now have I been freed, I must count myself unmoved by her regrets.”

  Merrick slid his chair over to see the journal page Larkin was currently inspecting, which said West and Arlanuk on the top, followed by the words rage, fighting, war and the sketch of a hammer. “So do you have any idea what the rest of the book means? I assume it’s her idea to contain Ula Kana, some way other than the sleep, but I can’t figure it out.”

  “Arlanuk—evidently my brother-in-law—rules a realm west of the Kumiahi desert. Those who have visited say his magic can cause rage and aggression.”

  “And he’s the one who guards Ula Kana in her sleep.” Cassidy got up and came to the table. “We’re told that’s where she still is.”

  “I would guess Rosamund meant to give him some gift, then.” Larkin waved at the sketch of the hammer. “Gain his assistance in imprisoning Ula Kana another way once she was awakened. A hopeless cause, I should have said. The fae hated her and would not have worked with her, as she evidently found.”

  “Philomena Quintal agreed.” Merrick turned the pages back to the beginning and removed the folded paper, which he handed to Larkin.

  “I remember her. More pleasant than Rosamund by half. But still a staunch supporter of reckless magic use.” Larkin unfolded it, read Philomena’s letter, then pursed his lips and put it aside. “I can only assume she means what Rosamund writes: that these notes describe an essentially impossible plan to contain Ula Kana.” He turned the journal’s pages, examining each. “Yes. To put her in the Kumiahi desert, then have the three fae who own the surrounding territories seal its borders through magic, through the use of charms she would have given them, thus trapping Ula Kana forever. Lord, she never could have accomplished it.”

  “These charms.” Merrick pushed the metal box closer. “Does the book tell us what they do?”

  “Oh, I see your design.” Larkin used the journal to push the box away from himself. “You wish to become the next all-powerful Highvalley witch. Forgive me if I do not assist you in your aim.”

  “I don’t want that,” Merrick defended. “I just want to help my family. Or you. See? I woke you up with a charm from this box. Aren’t you glad I did?”

  “I suppose. Yet that does not mean we should begin experimenting with every one of these items. Truly, friends, my advice is to give them up to those who regulate witches in the modern day. Which, it’s good to hear, someone is doing.”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree.” Cassidy dragged an armchair to the table and sat too. “But with this administration … ”

  “Exactly,” Merrick said. “I’m not keen on handing over powerful magic to them.”

  Larkin frowned. “What’s the matter with your current administration?”

  “Our prime minister and his cabinet are corrupt, is the abridged, polite version,” Cassidy said.

  “Gods, they’re going to blame the fae, aren’t they?” Merrick said. “When they realize he’s not there.”

  “You informed me,” Larkin said, “that the truce held and the fae were no longer a threat.”

  “It has held, but that’s because we’ve honored their deals. And they can still be a threat if you cross the verge.”

  “Where do the lines of the verge stand now?”

  “Same place they did in your day. Humans have the coastline, no more than a few miles inland. Fae have all the interior, the mountains and hills. Which our prime minister is trying to meddle with. He wants to solve the ‘injustice’ of Eidolonians having to drive around the shoreline all the time. He’s promised to build highways straight across the interior to link up our cities.”

  “Oh, good Lady and Lord,” Larkin said in exasperation.

  “He won’t be able to pull it off,” Cassidy said. “The fae haven’t agreed to it in the slightest. Most humans hate him too—he almost undoubtedly cheated to get elected in the first place. But he’s irritating the fae, and if something happens like you waking up—or worse, Ula Kana waking up—on top of it all … ”

  Larkin folded his arms and leaned back, dropping his glance to Hydrangea, who had shuffled into the room. “I see. If the fae consider the truce ended, it could be disastrous. Either they or the government could use it as a reason to become belligerent.”

  A shiver cour
sed through Merrick’s body. “Yeah.”

  Larkin leaned down and ran the back of his finger along Hydrangea’s ear. She lifted her face to nudge her nose against his hand. “Then I must tell the palace what truly happened. At once. We must send a message.”

  “Okay, but—not what truly happened,” Merrick said. “Not with my name attached. Please.”

  Larkin sat up and took the mug of tea that Merrick had set out for him. “As I said, I’m content to keep your identity a secret.”

  “Ula Kana, though.” Cassidy folded their arms on the table and rested their chin on them. “Is she still asleep? That’s the important question.”

  “The government and the palace, if they’re at all wise,” Larkin said, “will hasten to find out at once, assuming she does not save them the trouble by showing herself.”

  “Yes,” Cassidy said, “they’ll start panicking the second they realize you’re not in the bower.”

  A belated realization streaked through Merrick’s body. He jumped up. “Shit. Hang on.” He darted across to the Canopy Bedroom, ignoring Cassidy yelling, “What?” after him.

  The resistance charm made by Rosamund still lay coiled in the drawer where he’d left it. Merrick grabbed it and brought it back to Larkin. “Put this on.”

  Larkin pulled his hand away from the chain. “What is it?”

  “Resistance charm. The government’s sure as hell going to try to summon you, once they find out you’re gone. If you don’t want to get pulled back against your will, put it on.”

  Reluctantly, Larkin accepted the chain and looped its length twice around his neck. It hung to the middle of his chest. “The law hasn’t changed to forbid such compelling magic? Pity.”

  “It has. It’s illegal.” Merrick dropped into his chair again. “But law enforcement gets to use it for missing persons.”

  “Or wanted criminals,” Cassidy added.

  “Which am I, in their view, do you think?” Larkin asked dryly.

  “So.” Cassidy sat up to address Larkin. “You don’t plan to return to the palace in person?”

  Larkin slid the chain along his finger. “I would rather not. Putting my safety in their hands doesn’t appeal. Those in power failed to respect my wishes before, and from what you say, are likely to continue doing so now. Can we send a message without disclosing my location, yet in such a fashion that they could be in little doubt it truly came from me?”

  Merrick gnawed the side of his lip, glancing at Cassidy. “What was that thing called, for anonymous emails? V something?”

  “VPN.” Cassidy turned to Larkin. “I think I know what we can do.”

  CHAPTER 11

  LARKIN HADN’T THE F AINTEST NOTION WHAT the siblings were doing, but they assured him it would make the message untraceable. They brought out a folding book-like object they called a “computer,” which lit up in much the same way as Merrick’s phone, but had letter-buttons one could press. They bent their heads over it and chattered in jargon—“VPN,” “video,” “email.” Larkin waited, turning pages in the history book, though what he read proved equally incomprehensible. Could such horrors as these “world wars” truly have happened? And humans had walked upon the moon? Difficult to believe. Even magic could never carry anyone so far.

  “Okay,” Cassidy said. “Larkin, rehearse what you want to say, then we’ll video you saying it.” Seeing his blank gaze, they added, “A moving image, with sound, so they can see it’s you.”

  Larkin came around to the computer, upon whose glowing screen he saw something like a mirror: himself and Cassidy and Merrick moving in reflection. “Some witches had spells that could do much the same,” he said. “Create a speaking picture-message trapped within a book or mirror or such.”

  “They still can,” Merrick said, “but technology can do it better nowadays. Do you know what you’ll say?”

  They chose a place for him to stand, against the closed door of the Canopy Bedroom, with a plain white sheet draped over it so that none could guess his location from his surroundings. They also found him a different shirt, a dull sea-green with buttons up the front, which they said no one had worn in at least a decade and which should thus not identify any of his helpers either. Then they told him they were “recording” and he could begin whenever ready. After a few iterations of his message, and after making the edits he requested, they returned with the computer to the table and sat to watch the speech.

  Larkin looked upon the image of himself, his hair loose and undressed and seemingly a bit off-color, his eyebrows stern, everything a bit different—likely because he was seeing not the mirror image he usually saw, but the reverse, the reality. Was this how he appeared to others?

  “Warmest greetings to my modern relatives and those who guard and honor the palace,” this video Larkin said. “As you have perhaps already discovered, no doubt with much alarm, I am no longer in the bower. I wish you to know I am awake and well, and this is how I intend to stay. For although I’ve been ever willing to act in the best interests of my country, I must correct an assumption that has apparently long been held. I did not volunteer for the enchanted sleep. Rosamund Highvalley enspelled me and forced me into it, in order to enact the truce. That magic held until tonight, when, through utter accident, it was broken.

  “It is of the utmost importance that you understand no faery did this, nor any human saboteur. My awakening was unintentional, and I am grateful it happened, for I wished—and, I hope, deserved—to be free. I entreat you, do not attempt to investigate who is responsible nor seek to punish anyone. None are guilty. Those assisting me in sending this speech have kept me safe in what is to me a bewildering new world, and I’m grateful to them. I have my freedom and I will keep it, and will not allow any friendly parties to be punished.

  “But what of Ula Kana?, we must ask. Has she awoken as well? Naturally I wish to know too, and I urge the government to employ ambassadors to find out post-haste, as surely you will. However, understand that I will not reenter a sleep for which I did not enlist. Nor do I suggest anyone else take my place in it, for it is an unjust and cruel fate. What I suggest is what should have been accomplished in 1799: an alternate truce involving restitution of land to the fae, or indeed any other deal the fae might propose. This can be handled diplomatically, friends. Do not let fear and greed blind you as they did the humans and fae of my time.

  “Lest you think I’m but an actor, I can name for you the item I left in the bower: my circlet, which I threw aside into a corner. I will present myself and my true story to the public at a time of my choosing. I request that you respect my privacy and do not hunt me down, nor make any widespread announcement regarding my disappearance, which would incite all and sundry to begin searching for me. I am well, and wish to spend a while gaining my bearings in this new century. In the meantime, I hope to hear news of your wise decisions regarding this event. My best wishes to all.” He gave a respectful nod, and the video ended.

  Cassidy nodded absently, as if in answer, and sat back.

  Merrick picked at his thumbnail. “Do we send it tonight? Or in the morning?”

  “Probably now,” Cassidy said. “Just in case they do look in during the night and sound all the alarms.”

  Larkin assented with a nod.

  Merrick clicked various of the buttons—Larkin had gathered they were called “keys,” as if it were a piano. “I can send it to the general inquiries address on the palace website. You’re sure they won’t be able to trace it in any way? Not even magically?”

  “Shouldn’t be able to,” Cassidy said. “This VPN service was designed by matter-witches to add that level of encryption. And the email doesn’t have any personal info on it.”

  “It’s one we set up just a little while ago,” Merrick told Larkin. “A throwaway address, on a site that doesn’t require any identifying details.”

  “Your explanation may as well be in Greek for all the sense it makes,” Larkin said. “I am in your hands on this matter. I have little ch
oice.”

  “Right. Then … ” Merrick hovered his finger over a button, waited a few seconds, then gave it a decisive click and slid his chair back as if something might explode.

  Alarmed, Larkin slid his back too.

  “Sent.” Merrick exhaled.

  Cassidy released a long sigh.

  Merrick’s eyes were more dark-ringed than ever. Larkin’s existence was apparently quite fatiguing to the man. “Is it true what you said?” Merrick asked him. “That there might be a diplomatic solution to the agreement being broken, even if Ula Kana’s awake?”

  “Stranger things have occurred. Especially in Eidolonia.”

  What Larkin did not say was that while a peaceful solution was possible, he did not consider it likely, especially if fae-human tensions were on the rise again. And certainly there would be violence if Ula Kana returned. The Highvalleys looked shaken enough as it was, and he opted to put off disturbing them any further until at least daylight.

  He rose and wandered to a bookshelf. “I must decide where to go next.

  I don’t intend to impose on your hospitality long.”

  “I can help you get somewhere, once you decide,” Merrick said.

  “Thank you.” Larkin touched a book spine that promised An Anthology of Twentieth-Century Poetry. Larkin could not remember ever having dwelled upon what the twentieth century would be like, let alone the twenty-first. “I shall have a great many things to learn about the world.”

  He hadn’t meant to sound so forlorn. Merrick and Cassidy must have heard the tone and not known what to say, for they didn’t answer. He pretended to browse books while grief poured a cold torrent down around his heart.

  There was nothing for him in this era. Merrick would have done better to leave him asleep forever. What had they unleashed?

  To distract himself, Larkin seized an atlas and opened it.

  Cassidy yawned. “I suppose I’ll go back to bed, if I can. In the morning we’ll discuss the plan.”

  “The plan.” Merrick rubbed his eyes. “We’ll need one of those.”