by Leah Cutter
Things like using cups, sleeping in beds, carving wood, even wearing clothes.
“So, brother,” came Ramit’s voice from behind him.
Garung jumped. He wasn’t used to these wide open spaces, where any kind of creature could just fly up.
Ramit handed Garung an acorn cap filled with sweet morning dew. It was tiny in Garung’s long fingers, but he knew that traditionally, this was all that his people drank for breakfast.
It wouldn’t be enough.
Fairies had evolved, away from being barbarians to being civilized, for better or worse.
There was no going back, not for him.
“Quite a night, eh?” Ramit said, sitting down next to Garung on the tree branch.
“A night I’ll always remember,” Garung said truthfully. Not just because of the wildness he’d allowed himself to experience, but also because it had shown him what he truly wanted.
Home. Comfort. A clean bed.
“I can see you’ve made your decision,” Ramit said sadly.
“You could come with us,” Garung said. He looked around, making sure that none of his people were close enough to hear the brother’s talking. “The Greater Oregon Kingdom, up north, isn’t that stable. You might be able to take it.”
Ramit gave Garung a wicked smile. “I think the queen, there, would have something to say about that.”
“You knew she was the queen? How?” Garung asked. He wasn’t about to deny it. Had Adele said something?
“All the fairy kingdoms up and down the coast have heard of the queen with the clockwork fairy wings,” Ramit said. He paused, and looked at Garung pointedly.
All the fairy kingdoms? Garung had always been taught that it was just his kingdom, the Redwood Fairy Kingdom, that far down the southern coast.
“How many other kingdoms are there?” Garung asked, bewildered. “Have they always existed? Or are they all new, formed by our scattered troops?”
Ramit chuckled. “There are many, brother.”
“But why don’t we meet? Trade?” Garung asked. He could already envision a great gathering of all the west coast fairies, come midsummer. Oh, the dancing they would do!
“Because fairies only meet to war,” Ramit said seriously. “Or to pay tribute to the winners of a battle.”
“So the others—” Garung started.
“Have hidden their existence from the other kingdoms for centuries,” Ramit finished. “They came to this country to have peace, finally. To live their lives as they saw fit, wild in the huge wilderness of the New World. Not ordered or hemmed in by the old orders.”
“You won’t come back with me,” Garung said, bitterly. “You’re going to stay here, then. Let the others think you’re dead.”
“That’s the plan,” Ramit said lightly. “You could always stay, though.”
Garung heard a pleading note in his brother’s voice. “Why would you ask us to stay?” His brother was king of his own troop. He could live as he chose. Why would he want any of the southerners here? And potentially disturb the balance of power?
A trilling call made them both swivel and look down. Frieda and one of the forest fairies led a troop of youngsters—all born recently—weaving between the trees. The children laughed and danced, stretching their wings and calling to one another. They were tiny, smaller than the children of the southern kingdom. Would they grow taller? Or would they stay smaller than the new average, able to survive on just an acorn cup of dew?
But there were too few. Not given the general size of Ramit’s troop. “Is that the only class?” Garung asked.
“Last winter was harsh,” Ramit admitted.
Garung shivered. Ramit and his troop lived above ground, with only their wits and their wings to protect them from the elements. Had the freezing rains and cold been so bad that some of the children had died? Were there predators in the woods as well? While the children were small, could a hawk take one of them? Or a bear?
Ramit’s people were stronger than the people of either the northern or southern kingdoms. That, Garung had no doubt. Their warriors had muscles that he didn’t know fairies could possess.
However, could any of them read?
No, Garung would not be staying.
He couldn’t say the same of the rest of his troop, though. “We won’t tell anyone of the existence of your kingdom,” Garung promised his brother.
Ramit laughed, a surprisingly bitter note in the sweet morning. “I know you won’t, brother. But the rest of your troop? I don’t trust. They stay with us.”
Garung turned his head sharply to look at his brother. Only now did he see the warriors perched beside every other member of his troop. “You can’t keep them all here,” Garung said. The fairies would never cooperate, the ones who didn’t want to stay.
Ramit shrugged. “You’ve forgotten all the old ways, brother. The ones who don’t agree, well, at least they would ensure we had fresh meat all summer.”
Chapter Six
Dale spread out the brochures for the local technical college across his desk. It would be cheaper for him to stay right there, in Port City. He could live at home, with Mom. Wouldn’t have to spend money on a dorm room. Wouldn’t have to spend as much money on food. He’d have to get a car—he couldn’t rely on the bus. But he could get a cheap one, then make sure it ran, all on his own.
He had all the arguments lined up in his head. He’d actually given them all to Nora, more than once.
All she’d had to say was, “Annual visit by the fairies.”
They had his name. Once Nora was no longer there, would they have more power over him? Would they be able to do more than force him to meet with them more often? He didn’t think they would, or they already would have tried it.
Fairies didn’t strike him as being patient.
But Nora was right. Maybe something would happen in the kingdom, the power would shift in some way.
Like Kostya returning.
Dale sighed and returned the brochures to his desk drawer. Nora could find them if she looked—and maybe she already knew about them. It wasn’t as if his desk was the sty hers was.
For now, Dale couldn’t worry about staying. Instead, he had to figure out some way to protect his sister from whatever this monster wanted, the one who’d been turning away Nora’s teachers.
It had to be someone close to her, Dale was certain. Could it be one of Nora’s numerous high school friends? Dale didn’t care much for Delia, but that was because she was always trying to prove herself better than everyone else. No, a magical creature would have more self-confidence.
Trisha, maybe? She was tall and beautiful and smart and honestly intimidated Dale some. But she was also one of the more sane and down-to-earth members of Nora’s tribe.
One by one Dale went through all of Nora’s connections, then all of his own. He’d known Rich and Tabri since they’d fist moved there, and quite frankly, neither of them was enough of a mastermind to do something like this.
Then Dale thought about Brett. He’d said he’d been adopted, but had he been, really? Dale had never met his parents. Mom had, though. But what would Mom know? She wouldn’t have suspected anything. Nora said she’d only met Brett’s parents once, as well: They worked odd hours at the university, the next town over, leaving Brett on his own often.
How often had Brett come over to their place? Dale thought back. No, Nora was always going over there rather than Brett coming into the house that Nora had so thoroughly protected magically.
And Brett had tried giving Nora a ring that she hadn’t liked, said it was slippery.
Brett was close to Nora, closer than anyone, except Dale himself.
It was a crazy thought. How could he suspect Nora’s boyfriend? Brett was plain and ordinary and everything Nora wasn’t.
Too plain and ordinary? Wouldn’t that be the perfect disguise?
The more Dale thought about it, the more suspicious he grew. Brett wasn’t solid like Rich and Tabir, or like Trish. Why
would Nora be attracted to someone so plain? It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t that smart, though Dale could recognize he was cute, if you liked that kind of blue-eyed, sloppy dark-haired, bad-boy look.
Nora would call Dale crazy. Jealous. He snorted. As if.
Would Dale have to tell Nora his suspicions, though? If she was going to leave Brett behind and not tell him her plans?
Dale resolved to wait. He’d tell Nora only if he had to.
His twin would be gone, out of harm’s way, soon enough.
* * *
“Why do we need a warrior guard?” Cornelius asked Thirza, Bascom’s second in command. The old warrior had refused to meet with Cornelius, insisting instead on directing the party of warriors gathering the wood for the fire on the beach. Thirza had come to the room where Cornelius was meeting with people instead, and stood scowling at him from across his desk.
Today, Cornelius had chosen the side room with a painted mural of an open window overlooking a fairy forest. Warm green ferns, roses, and moss blanketed the area. The moon shone down brightly on red-and-white toadstools, and fairies floated on the beams. Bright orange and yellow paint covered the rest of the walls, a blaring contrast to the soothing greens, as if daylight had risen in the room while night still reigned in the forest.
However, Thirza wouldn’t just acquiesce to Cornelius’ demands. She was short for a warrior, with her long brown hair worn in plaits, then woven around her head like a helmet. Her features were broad and spread out, her nose pressed into her face and her lips thin. Lines marred the edges of her cheeks from the deep scowls she wore. At least she was covered up, wearing a slim vest made of gray and black streamers, with a matching skirt, instead of the usual red warrior paint.
Thirza’s only visible clockwork was a small clock imbedded in her shoulder. It didn’t tell time human-style. Instead, the phases of the moon and the tides were displayed in the holes cut into the face.
“You believe you’ll get most of the court out on the beach dancing, yes?” Thirza asked. Her accent was mixed, not as purely old country as Cornelius and the court. Had she been born here, in the New World?
“I believe so,” Cornelius said. He hadn’t tried asking them, or even commanding them to go. But he felt certain he’d be able to persuade most of them to come and witness the spectacle at the very least. Maybe some of them would forget themselves enough to join in.
“Then we provide a guard,” Thirza insisted.
“Who would attack us?” Cornelius asked. The only enemies of the fairies were the dwarves, and for the most part, they’d been driven off.
“We still provide a guard,” Thirza said. She turned away from Cornelius and his desk, starting for the door.
“Wait,” Cornelius said. He’d really been hoping to chat with Bascom, see if he’d heard anything about the dwarf. However, since Bascom wouldn’t show his face in the palace, he’d just have to deal with his second in command.
And possibly start grooming Thirza as commander instead.
“There’s been a report,” Cornelius said slowly.
“Of Kostya, the dwarf. Yes, I’ve heard,” Thirza said, turning back toward Cornelius.
“You knew?” Cornelius asked. Had the priests told the warriors? Warned them?
“One of the tunnels in the north. We do do regular sweeps,” Thirza said stiffly. “We didn’t find anything to suggest that the dwarf had actually returned. A few things had been disturbed. We’d set a watch, and were going to wait and see what was actually there before reporting to the court.”
“Ah, thank you,” Cornelius said, nodding. So the priests’ information might be incorrect.
“But that’s why you’re getting a guard,” Thirza said. “We don’t know what’s out there. Something is, though.”
“I appreciate your diligence,” Cornelius said sincerely. “If there’s ever anything you need, you have merely to come and ask.”
Thirza nodded and gave him a sudden grin, surprising Cornelius. He’d thought her expressions only existed as a series of scowls. “Get the Tinker to return. Then we’ll talk.”
With that, the warrior quickly exited the room.
Cornelius nodded thoughtfully. He hadn’t known any of the warriors were capable of being subtle. But perhaps this one had just delivered a message to him, that her loyalties were with her commander, Bascom.
If Cornelius wanted to command her, and possibly the rest of the warriors, he really needed to make a deal with the Tinker to fix them.
* * *
Nora spent the time before dinner in her room. Dale called it a sty, and sometimes made snorting-pig noises when he walked by it, but Nora loved her room. All her project bags spread across the floor, the thirteen different crafts she was practicing at different stages all scattered on her desk and shelves, her clothes in (roughly) ordered piles of clean, semi-clean, and dirty. Her room was a nest of creativity, not a sterile, barren place.
But Nora didn’t want to talk about anything substantial until after dinner, though she could tell Mom needed to tell her stuff, and Dale as well. It all just made her tired.
When Nora first discovered that she was a Maker and could do magic, she’d wanted to turn her back on it. She knew she could find people to knit with, to talk about materials and sewing machines, even the weird crafting projects she wanted to tackle.
Magic was something completely different. It turned her down a path apart from her twin. How could Nora find people who practiced magic? Who could she practice with? How would becoming a Maker further break up her family?
However, Nora hadn’t had any choice. She’d needed to embrace her magic to save Dale.
Turning her back on it was never an option from then on, though she hated how it threatened her family again.
Nora picked up and put down three projects while she tried to think. Who was this monster? Who’d want to slow her learning? Could it be the fairies? Somehow she doubted it—Mrs. Wentworth had been clear that it had been an individual, not a collection or group. Nora doubted that any one of the fairies was strong enough. Together, maybe.
Was it Kostya? He’d tried to divert her learning, before, to slow her down. But he had started showing her the basics. And he’d only been sighted again recently. Cornelius said he’d just come back. He hadn’t been in the area for the last five years, causing trouble. The fairies would have spotted him before this.
So that left some other unknown. Someone who knew Nora well enough to warn people away from her.
Nora shook her head. No. Not warn them away. Hunt them. Kill them.
Nora almost felt sorry for this individual. Because when she found them…Her powers had grown, despite this monster’s interference. She’d still be able to damage whoever it was. More than they realized.
* * *
Denise almost didn’t want to tell her daughter about the visit from the dwarf, given how pale Nora looked at dinner. Denise asked, “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” as she served them hamburgers, broccoli, and cheesy-garlic potatoes.
Nora shook her head. “After dinner. Please.”
“All right,” Denise said, acquiescing.
To fill the quiet, Dale told a story about the ugly waving cat that he’d picked up from Betty, and how he was going to have to work by feel alone—looking too long at that thing would make him go blind.
Denise told a story about the latest manuscript she was proofing, how the poor writer had used the word “record” to mean five different things until Denise couldn’t make heads or tails of the manuscript.
Nora smiled at them both gratefully as they told their stories, quietly eating her fill. Finally, after they’d piled the plates up in the sink, Nora led them to the living room. She and Dale sat on the couch as usual, and Denise took a chair to the side.
“I have something to tell you,” Nora started, looking down at the floor, her hands wringing.
“Before you start, I have something important to say as well,” Denise said.
Nora looked up at her, thought for a moment, then nodded. “Go on.”
“Kostya the dwarf came to visit me today,” Denise said all at once.
Denise had read about a brittle silence before—she’d never known one so vulnerable to breaking. “I’m glad you gave me this,” she added, twisting the bracelet around her wrist.
Nora and Dale looked at each other. They obviously had a lot of history with this dwarf. “What did he want?” Nora asked finally.
“He wants you to treat fairly with him,” Denise said. “I don’t know what that means. In exchange, he said he’d tell you about the creature who’s been blocking your teachers from reaching you.”
If Denise had thought the silence had been brittle before, it chilled beyond the breaking point now.
“He knows?” Nora finally said, jumping up from the couch to pace across the living room floor.
“He could be lying,” Dale said.
“He probably is,” Nora said, nodding. “How could he know?”
“Before you go dismissing him completely,” Denise said. “You have to know something else.” She paused, taking a deep breath. This was surprisingly hard for her to admit. “He helped me.”
“What do you mean?” Nora asked, stalking over to where Denise was sitting.
Denise had never seen her daughter so angry before. She glowed with rage.
Or maybe she just literally glowed at this point, her magic making her spark.
“Do you remember the green agate that Cornelius dropped in the grass?” Denise asked.
Nora nodded, then looked horrified. “I forgot to pick it up.”
“It…flashed at me. So I picked it up. Without thinking about it,” Denise admitted. She hung her head in shame. She’d known not to touch it, but had anyway.
Nora dropped to her knees beside the chair and put her overly-warm hands on Denise’s. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry. We can fix this. Where’s the stone now? Can you say?”