The Last Changeling

by Chelsea Pitcher

  He towered over Elora. “Such cowards,” he said, kicking her in the ribs. “This is what you have chosen over the Unseelie Court?”

  Elora opened her mouth, but only blood dripped out. I watched her as I passed between the trees. It was clear she’d used the last of her strength to summon that gust of wind. Now her eyes fought to stay open.

  No. Not now, please.

  It wasn’t supposed to work this way. The closer I got to her, the better chance she should have of surviving. But now, as I neared the back of the stone angel, Elora’s body started to shake.

  Not now. Not now. Not now.

  “I suppose it’s poetic,” said Naeve, “that you should live long enough to see them for the curs they are. Now you know the mistake you made in choosing them over us.” He knelt to stroke her cheek. But the movement wasn’t meant to be comforting. It was a violation, just like everything else he’d done.

  Something cold and gray opened up inside me, swallowing the parts that were able to feel happiness. Swallowing the parts that were able to feel compassion. I welcomed it, reveling in the numbness.

  “Don’t worry,” Naeve said, pressing his lips against her cheek. “I’ll take good care of your mother.”

  I touched the sharp tip of the branch I carried. With Naeve almost within my reach, my gray thoughts darkened to black. I didn’t just want to hurt him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to slide the edge of the branch across his neck and feel warm blood ooze over my hands.

  Who am I?

  I didn’t recognize the person having these thoughts. I wondered if watching Naeve torture Elora had changed me. Made me into something darker.

  But maybe that person had always been inside me, resting beneath the surface. Maybe the things I’d witnessed tonight had simply uncovered my true nature, the one I’d buried my entire life. I’d never had thoughts like these. Not even when my father had ripped out my heart and blamed me for the loss of it. Terrible thoughts raced through my mind, beckoning me to act.

  I stepped up behind the angel as quietly as I could.

  From above, the dark faeries tried to warn Naeve—at least, those who weren’t trying to copy our escape and burn their way free. But they’d made a mistake by screaming all night. How was Naeve supposed to know that this moment was different?

  “The Queen will be devastated when she hears of your downfall,” he said to Elora, shaking his head. “Her only daughter, defiled by humans.”

  “Lies,” Elora murmured.

  “I won’t have to lie. That’s the beauty of it.” He leaned in. “From the moment you were born, I warned her you would be drawn to this place.”

  “Why … would I be drawn … ?”

  Naeve laughed, the sound cutting like glass. “Why do you think your wings grew in so wretchedly? Why do you think I had to take them away? Unfortunately for your mother, you’ve always been your father’s daughter.” He lifted a final, glittering shard from the dirt. “A pity you won’t live to spill that secret.”

  “Oh, I think she will.” I slammed the branch into Naeve’s head.

  There was a sound like bones cracking, and then he slumped to the ground. I stared down at him, triumphant. But the triumph bled out of me quickly, replaced by something colder.

  Oh, God.

  Naeve wasn’t moving. A thin line of blood trickled away from his head. I watched it, mesmerized, as it meandered across the dirt.

  He’s dead.

  But he couldn’t be dead. He was a supernatural being.

  I killed him.

  Seconds ago, I’d wanted to kill him more than anything. Now I felt the burden of his death pressing into me. I felt his blood on my hands.

  I looked at Elora, begging silently for forgiveness. But what could she give me now? And how could I ever look myself in the face again?

  “I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, though it was a lie. “I’m sorry.”

  Elora’s eyes struggled to open.

  I brushed the hair from her face. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for wondering if you hurt that girl.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “The real Laura Belfry. But you didn’t, did you? You never would have done that.”

  She shook her head, barely. “But I might have stopped—”

  “Don’t say anything.” I pressed my face into hers, lending her warmth. “Just let me take care of you.”

  More blood slipped out of her mouth. Some of it was darker, almost black.

  “God, how could they do this to you?”

  From the direction of the parking lot, I saw light. I turned, blinding myself for an instant. I realized my friends hadn’t listened to me after all.

  I realized they were waiting for us.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, looking to the trees. The dark faeries were still captive, for the moment. “But I need to know if I should take these out first.” I gestured to the iron shards in her back. I had to force myself to look at them. “I know it’s poison, but I don’t want you to bleed to … ” I stopped, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She opened her cracked lips. “Yes.”

  “Yes, take them out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I got down on my hands and knees, surveying the damage. Naeve had covered her upper back with the shards, everywhere her corset didn’t cover, but I told myself I just had to take out one after the other. Eventually, they’d be gone. I circled the first one with my fingers.

  Elora gasped. Even this caused her pain. The tiniest of movements.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  I pulled.

  Her body seized as the shard came loose. Blood-tipped and jagged, it fell to the ground. I made myself think of nothing but making a pile of them. I let no other thoughts get in.

  Two, then three, fell beside the first. Then five. Then ten. Elora was still breathing; I knew because of the crying. I could hear footsteps approaching, and I hoped they were the steps of my friends.

  But I couldn’t focus on it.

  Then I heard wingbeats, and I looked up. The faeries of the Dark Court had managed to break free. At least, one group had, and they were using branches burning with purple fire to free the rest. But the dark fey weren’t the only ones with allies. Keegan and Alexia were now kneeling next to me. Kylie had her chair, and she was unscrewing a water bottle for Elora.

  “Get the wings,” I said.

  I don’t know why I said it. But some part of me knew what would happen if we left them here, knew they’d be ripped to shreds or hung up in the Unseelie Castle in celebration of what Naeve had done.

  Alexia grabbed them as the last of the shards from Elora’s back hit the ground. The wings were covered in blood and dirt. So was Elora.

  I picked her up as carefully as I could. “We’re getting you out of here.”

  She tried to wrap her arms around my neck, but they slipped away. Then she was just hanging there in my arms, not even shaking anymore.

  “Let’s get her to the car,” I said.

  “And then what?” Alexia asked, following. “We can’t take her to the hospital.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ll catch up to you.” That was Keegan.

  I turned to find him kneeling next to Naeve. “No,” I said.

  Keegan’s fingers slid over Naeve’s neck. “He’s got a pulse. Barely.”

  I closed my eyes. I felt relief, then fear. “There isn’t time,” I said, eyeing the gates. I couldn’t explain to him how it felt to have someone’s death on your hands. He wouldn’t know until he was crushed by it.

  “He hurt my sister. I’m going to kill him.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But not today.”

  Keegan stared at Naeve’s body, his hand
s clenched so tight I didn’t think there was any blood left in them. Finally, he stood up. “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  The dark faeries were closing in. We had very little time before they reached us.

  We raced across the grounds. I tried to keep Elora warm by holding her against me. I didn’t want to think about how quickly her body was losing heat.

  When we reached our cars, Keegan started opening doors. “I’ll drive. You take care of her.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Where are we going?” asked Kylie. She and Alexia were throwing stuff off the seats of Keegan’s car to make room for us. “Should we go home? Keegan? We could take her—”

  “No,” he said, catching his sister’s eye. “We can’t involve our families. Those things could come after us, and … ”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the truth to sink in, the pain that came with realizing you couldn’t go home. But when I opened my eyes, Kylie was nodding. “We’ll go to the coast,” she said. “Alexia’s mom has a house there. If we drive fast enough, maybe—”

  “It won’t work,” said a voice from behind us.

  Together, we turned.

  Two massive black horses stepped toward us, unfolding feathery wings. Dark faeries. Enemies.

  “Stay the hell away from here,” I snarled. I tried to lay Elora down in the car, but something stopped me.

  Alexia stopped me.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “Are you kidding me? How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because we’ve met before.” She turned to the horses. “You came back?”

  “We could not abandon her,” the closest one replied. Her body appeared to be more vapor than substance, and her edges blended with the landscape.

  Everything here is edged in shadow.

  Looking at Elora, I saw the shadows clinging to her as well. But these shadows were hungry. They curled into her skin as if tasting her.

  She was dying.

  No.

  “You can take her to safety?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the horse said.

  “Where? Not the Dark Court.”

  “The Dark Court is our home.” As she stepped closer, I recognized the figure clinging to her back. Brad. “It is where she should be laid to rest.”

  “Laid to rest?” My stomach dropped so hard I almost fell to my knees. “You’re not even going to help her?”

  “She is beyond help. We know of no magic that can heal this.”

  “You’re giving up?” Keegan asked, his eyes flicking warily to Brad.

  “She has been poisoned with iron.”

  “We can’t just give up!” Kylie took Elora’s hand. We all would have given her our warmth, if it came to that.

  “There has to be something we can do,” I said, running Elora’s story through my mind. There had to be an answer in there, buried like treasure in the sea. But each time I dove under the waves, I was tossed out.

  “There is nothing,” the closest horse said. Tears formed in those big black eyes. She was crying. The twins were crying. God, even Alexia was crying.

  “There has to be something.” I slid my sleeve across my face, trying to center myself. “Iron. Iron is poison to faeries. Iron is starlight. We have to find the cure for starlight. No.”

  I lowered my head to Elora’s face. I knew I was getting further away from the answer, but I didn’t know how to focus. The horses peered at us. There was no color in their eyes. No tiny spark of light.

  Probably due to a lack of iron, I mused, feeling delirious. My grip on reality was slipping away. Biting my lip to keep from drifting, I stared into Elora’s now-open eyes.

  For a second, I thought she was dead. My heart stopped. My breath. Everything.

  Then she blinked, and I looked at those eyes again, really looked at them. I was startled by the amount of light in them.

  Must be because of the iron, I thought, and shook my head at my own stupidity. Her eyes had always been bright—it had to be something else. Sunlight?

  The sun is a star, you idiot. You absolute, complete—

  “Oh my God.” My thoughts spun too fast to hold on to.

  Iron comes from stars. Stars create light. The iron from stars poisons faeries. But without the sunlight, everything on earth would die.

  We needed that light to survive.

  “Light,” I mumbled, remembering the part of Elora’s story that I’d been trying to find. Her words about the Bright Queen danced through my mind:

  She was known as the greatest healer in Faerie.

  “I know where to go.” I kissed Elora’s forehead as her eyes fluttered closed. I waited for them to open.

  And I waited.

  29

  ElorA

  I was seventeen when death crossed my path. Before that, I’d only felt her cool breath on my neck as she passed me by. But late one night, death offered to take me home. She kissed my cheeks and told me stories of a land where I could fly without wings.

  “Come,” she said, and beckoned.

  I recognized her voice then. I knew exactly who was leading me into the darkness.

  All I had to do was follow.

  30

  TayloR

  When someone dies, you lay her bones to rest in the earth and say a prayer. You scatter dirt and roses over her coffin. You don’t carry her out of the cemetery and out of the known world.

  But we did.

  So Elora couldn’t be dead.

  This was the way I rationalized it as the six of us traveled over the ocean, huddled together on the backs of the horses. But she felt so cold, and her body felt rigid in my arms, paralyzed by the poison. If she wasn’t dead, she was very close.

  I chose to believe she had more time.

  We flew for hours, Elora held tightly against my chest, Alexia clinging to my waist. I saw the sun rise and set. Then we passed through a strange, rolling fog that made me think we were entering Faerie. I kept my face close to Elora’s, whispering promises I couldn’t possibly keep. “I’ll give you my blood, my breath, my life. Just don’t leave me.” I didn’t even need to open my eyes. I just needed to feel her chest rising and falling.

  But something happened that forced my eyes open: a sudden onslaught of light. I blinked, expecting to see the Seelie Court in all its glory.

  Instead, I saw the borderlands: the place where Bright and Dark Courts met. What fascinated me, more than the glowing light coming from the east, was the contrast of light and dark battling it out for everyone to see. From the western side, shadows tried to swallow the world, but the light wouldn’t let them. As we swooped down, under a patch of cold, wet clouds, I saw another sign of the battle between Bright and Dark: thin, black trees rose up in a line, stretching over what must have been the length of the borderlands, while long, green vines from the Bright Court tried to choke the life out of them. Still, those trees kept growing, and still those vines reached, forever battling, never able to rest. It must have been so tiring, devoting every waking moment to that kind of hatred. And Elora had been raised to hate the bright faeries and humanity. No wonder she was so tired.

  No wonder she wanted to rest.

  “We’re almost there, baby,” I promised, calling her the sweet things I’d never had the courage to say before. It all seemed so stupid now, my reservation. My fear. Back then, the worst she could have done was reject me. Now she might die in my arms.

  “I love you,” I whispered in her ear.

  She said nothing.

  We arrived. Our flying horse reared back in midair, like she wasn’t able to fly past the border. I knew, or thought I knew, that her aversion was based on fear rather than a physical barrier, and I stroked her neck with my hand, though it only made her feathers drop.

  “Please,” I begged, loud enough for her
to hear me over the rush of the wind. “Please do this for Elora.”

  She brayed loudly, but in a rush of speed burst past the border. Feathers were dropping freely now, and her coat looked paler than it had before. I wondered if the light was causing her to fade. But I didn’t know what I could do about it, because I didn’t know where we were supposed go. Should we just drop down in the middle of the forest and expect the Bright Queen to know?

  Then out of the forest came a doe, the largest doe I’d ever seen, and though I had to assume they’d never met before, the horses seemed to recognize her, and followed.

  When our horse dipped down to the tops of the trees, she practically flickered out of substance. For a second, I actually thought she was going to disappear.

  “What’s happening?” Alexia hissed into my ear. Her grip tightened around my waist, making it hard to breathe.

  “It’s a trick,” I said, twisting around as much as I could. “It has to be a trick.”

  “Why?” Her voice was too loud, after the hours of silence.

  “Because this horse isn’t disappearing. I can feel her. Can’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, her grip loosening the tiniest bit. “But I still don’t like it.”

  I didn’t like it either. I wanted to tell the fey horse she’d done enough, but there was no way I would be able to catch that doe on foot. She was bounding between trunks, over brambles and through gales of light. It occurred to me, then, that the light might be hurting Elora; I looked down and saw that the symbols on her skin had faded completely. Her hair was practically ablaze, the red strands laced through with gold. But the rest of her was just as visible as always, and the light didn’t seem to bother her at all.

  Why would the Bright Court’s light have so little power over the Dark Princess? Did it have to do with what Naeve had said to her in the cemetery?

  You’ve always been your father’s daughter.

  I didn’t have time to wonder. I only had time to be thankful, because now we’d reached a patch of trees so guarded that there was a canopy of leaves blocking us. The deer had gone in and not come out, so we needed to go in too. There was only one problem—the horse either wouldn’t or couldn’t enter.