by S. W. Clarke
And now I was being let in on that secret.
Chapter Thirty
The fae solstice market didn’t have an entrance. At least, not to regular human eyes.
Nissa and Eva, who held Oberon’s hand, showed me the way through the neighborhoods of Vienna, where pedestrians walked under the lamplight in the still-early evening, and somewhere I heard horse hooves clopping down the streets.
Loki had declined to come; he had taken to the wood fireplace in the Whitewillows’ living room, and only cracked one green eye when I’d told him we were going out.
If there was one thing he loathed, it was the cold of night.
And it was cold. But Eva’s mother, with her superior manipulation magic, had rendered a too-small wool coat into an eminently warm, wearable jacket just my size. And she’d done it as we were walking out the door.
Now, as we came before the stone archway to an empty park, she stopped and looked back at me. “How well have you learned to see?” Nissa asked.
“She means like you did to get into the academy,” Eva explained.
“Oh,” I said. “You mean the door in the tree.”
“Yes.” Nissa gave a wistful smile. “The door in the tree.”
I glanced at the park, barren and hardly lit. “Am I supposed to see something there?”
Nissa and Eva met eyes, a knowing look passing between them. Then Eva’s mother called for Oberon, took two steps back, and as he came to her, she and the boy passed under the stone archway.
But they didn’t appear on the other side.
I came to Eva’s side. “Your mom and brother just disappeared.”
“They’re right there.” Eva pointed ahead into the park. When she glanced at me, I could have sworn I saw her wink. “You understand, don’t you?”
I sighed, tucking my hands into my pockets. “Don’t tell me I’m going to be stuck out here until I pass the test.”
Eva laughed. “Oh no. You already know how to see—you’ve done it once before. It’ll be easy enough once I teach you the secret.”
“The secret?” I said, even as Eva stepped behind me. Her hands reached up, settling over my eyes. “Would have been helpful if someone had told me the secret last time.”
“Close them,” she instructed, ignoring me. “Close your eyes.”
And because I didn’t want the unenviable fate of being stuck on the cold sidewalk for hours, I did.
“Before you lies a cobblestone path, each stone reflecting the light from the sconces set at either side. Once you walk under the archway, you’ll first smell roasted pine nuts mixed with the scent of honey and cinnamon wafting from somewhere far off. Then you’ll smell roasting pork.”
I shifted on the sidewalk. “And then I’ll see Santa Claus?”
Eva hushed me. “And the music will come to you from far down the cobblestone path—a man and a woman singing together, and a bassoon to accompany them—leading you past a colorful gumdrop stand on your left, and a faerish wreath seller on your left, his creations so green and tied so tight you’ll never lose a single needle…”
On and on she went, describing what lay before us in such a vivid, appealing way, I wanted it to be true. I wanted it to be real.
And at some point, I forgot my sarcasm in the face of my desire, and I fell wholly into imagining everything Eva described. I wanted to smell the gumdrops and pine and hear the singers and the bassoon. I wanted to see the light glinting off the cobblestones.
Somehow she seemed to know the moment when I’d sunk into her fantasy, because she removed her hands.
“Open your eyes,” she whispered.
I knew before I opened them that the music wouldn’t stop. That I’d see it all before me, just as she had promised.
And I did.
Through the archway, the fae solstice market glowed in the night, the sconces lighting the way down the cobblestone path bustling with children running, some flying, paper rosettes of gumdrops in their hands, fae couples walking slow and enamored past the wreaths, a woman whose fingers reached up to touch one adorned with red winter blooms.
And there, some thirty feet off, stood Nissa and Oberon. She knelt to hand him what looked like a cake pop with a bow tied on it.
Eva came to my side, watching with me. “That’s the secret.”
“What is?” I murmured.
“To seeing,” she said. “You want it to be real. You imagine it. Even a second of belief will allow you to see it.”
Even a second. And the strangest thing was, I hadn’t sensed belief inside me. I guessed that made it an unconscious thing. Of course, we carried beliefs inside us we weren’t even aware of, but I was surprised how quickly I’d been able to put aside my very-normal-human belief that an empty park must be an empty park.
Within just a few minutes, it had become a solstice market.
Eva glanced at me. “Shall we?”
In we went. We joined up with Nissa and Oberon, who struck to Eva’s side and stayed there, clearly glad to see his sister. We visited the gumdrop stand first, and then the wreath seller. We sampled the pork and the faerish pastries, which were otherworldly.
The whole while, Eva gave Oberon her full attention. And the boy adored her for it. When we had walked by every other stand and sampled every treat, the two of them ran to a corral with winged ponies, and Nissa and I walked along behind.
“Those are pegasuses,” I said, mouth open. “Real ones.”
“Yes, they are yearling pegasi,” Nissa said. “You can ride one if you like, though I expect your feet may drag on the ground.”
I smirked. “I’ll let Oberon do the riding.”
As we came to the fence line, Nissa glanced my way. “Eva tells me you were recently inducted into House Spark.”
My body went stiff, and I straightened. “That’s right.”
“So you are a fire witch.”
I sighed, gazing out at the yearlings. They trotted with their wings out, hooves pulling high as the fae children laughed. Now came the moment of judgment. “That’s right.”
“The last witch in the world.” Nissa leaned forward, setting her forearms on the fence. “What a burden.”
I’d heard sympathy in her voice. I ventured a glance at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you carry the weight of history,” she said. “‘Fire witches turn bad.’ I’m sure you’ve heard that one.”
I still couldn’t let myself relax. “A few times.”
She peeked at me over her shoulder. I definitely saw empathy in those eyes. “Eva also told me how you came to the academy.”
“She knows about what happened?”
“The headmistress informed her about…” She trailed off to silence.
“About Umbra rescuing me?” I finished for her.
Nissa straightened, turning. She stared past me, back toward the market entrance. “Don’t say anything more on it.”
I turned with her. “What is it?”
“Ill intent,” she whispered. “We’re watched.”
Nissa stared through the crowds in the solstice market, her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be listening, seeking out a particular frequency. Beside me, she practically vibrated with intense, concentrated energy.
Ill intent, she’d said. We’re watched.
By who?
From where I stood, nothing had changed. The children ran and laughed, the pegasi snorted as their hooves clopped through the dirt behind us, and the music still flowered through the air.
Nissa set a hand over my forearm, gripping me lightly. “Come. Let’s gather Oberon and Eva—we should be getting back.”
I sensed a forced casualness to her words; they weren’t delivered in quite the same way as before. They held dual purpose.
She didn’t want whoever was watching us to think we knew.
“Evanora, Oberon,” Nissa called.
In the ring, Eva walked alongside Oberon as he rode on one of the pegasi. Eva’s eyes lifted at once, and she and her mother
didn’t speak. It seemed they didn’t need to.
As soon as their gazes met, Eva understood it was time to leave.
She lifted Oberon off the yearling, carrying him through the ring and toward the gate. When she came out to us, she smiled as brightly as ever. “That was fun, wasn’t it, Obe?”
Oberon made a face. “I want to go back on.”
“We’ll come back,” Nissa promised. “It’s late now. We need to get you home and to sleep.”
I’d expected the five-year-old fae to start crying, or at least to whine. But he didn’t; he only buried his face into Eva’s shoulder as we started down the cobblestone path toward the market’s exit.
And it occurred to me as we walked that the boy was already used to this. Both his parents were guardians; he’d likely been trained on how to behave in situations like this.
No acting out. Do what Mother and Father say.
Eva, too. She walked with purpose, holding Oberon tight. Somehow Nissa had conveyed exactly the message she’d meant to without any words.
And me?
I couldn’t stop hearing what Nissa had whispered.
Ill intent. We’re watched.
By who? And why were they watching us?
We came to the stone archway marking the entrance to the park. As we passed under it, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder. The music faded almost in the same moment as the park returned to its barren state. Behind me were only bare trees and benches and semidarkness.
“It’s gone,” I said.
Nissa turned back and set an arm around me to keep us walking. She was shorter than me, and her head came to just past my shoulder. “Not gone, just hidden. Such is the magic of this world. Don’t worry—this is only the beginning of it for you, Clementine.”
I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but in that moment I felt willing to believe the hopefulness of her fortunetelling. I wanted it to be true, that this was only the beginning.
We passed through the streets back toward the Whitewillows’ home, and though not more than an hour had passed, this part of Vienna seemed emptier, hollowed out for the night. I didn’t see anyone else as we walked.
And, though I couldn’t imagine why, the lights didn’t shine as bright. Every streetlamp we passed under offered a small cone of yellow light into the blackness.
I sensed a tightness in her grip around my shoulder. I hadn’t known her more than a day, but it was the same way she’d gripped my wrist in the moment she’d sensed we were watched.
Nissa was still on guard.
I knew better than to talk. I’d walked home alone so many nights in my old life, and I’d learned all the things a streetwise woman should know: no earbuds in, no cellphone out. Eyes up, alert. You had to walk like you knew where you were going.
But this? This wasn’t my world any longer.
I was in a city, but not my own. And whoever bore ill intent didn’t do so because I was a woman with a purse.
This was new, magical territory. And I wished for two things:
One, that Loki was here.
Two, that I had my magic.
As we came to the end of a block and stopped for a car to pass, Nissa’s arm fell away from my shoulder. She turned, staring behind us. “Eva, take them back.”
Eva, Oberon still in her arms, half-turned. “But Mama—”
Nissa raised a hand. “Do it.”
Eva nodded. Her eyes flicked to me, and she didn’t need to say anything at all. With Oberon there, she and I understood what needed to be done.
We started across the road, Eva and me together, as Nissa remained behind. “Oh, what a tired boy you must be,” Eva cooed to Oberon as we walked—faster now than before.
I only took one look back at Nissa before she disappeared. She’d slipped off her jacket, her wings blossoming to cerulean life, before she lifted into the air and flew beyond the streetlamps.
We came back to the entrance to their home, Eva with the key already out. When she got us into the foyer, she closed the door and set Oberon down. She took a moment to lean against the wall as the boy proceeded to fly straight up the middle spiral of the staircase.
“Are we safe here?” I asked.
Eva nodded. “The house is protected by powerful air magic. Only we and those we allow may pass the enchantment.”
I glanced back at the door. “And who enchanted it?”
“My father,” Eva said, taking a deep breath. “Come on.”
“What about your mom?” I asked as we approached the staircase. “She’s still out there.”
“My mother is the most capable fae I know,” Eva said without looking back. “We don’t need to worry about her.”
But she didn’t sound entirely convinced of her own words. They sounded more like a prayer than a statement.
Chapter Thirty-One
After we’d gotten Oberon to bed, Eva and I sat alone in the kitchen with the rosette of fae cinnamon buns between us. Each of us took small bites as we drank mugs of tea, waiting.
Awaiting Nissa’s return.
“She said someone with ill intent was watching us?” Eva said. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
I encircled the mug with both hands. “Why not?”
“It’s a fae market. The Shade’s creatures can’t enter, and it wasn’t even close to the witching hour.”
I eyed her. “She didn’t say one of the Shade’s creatures was watching us.”
“Ill intent,” Eva said. “That means the forces of darkness.”
“How do you know?” I paused. “Liara had ill intent toward me when she attacked me in the amphitheater. She’s a fae.”
Eva took an agitated bite of bun. “No, she didn’t. That’s different.”
“Okay, explain.”
“Liara doesn’t like you because her family was killed by witches. She wouldn’t have ill intent toward you, though.”
I pursed my lips. “Her 800-volt pointer finger told another story.”
“Ill intent is malice, Clementine,” Eva said. I’d never seen her so lacking in levity or airiness. She was almost a different fae. “When a mature mage says ‘ill intent,’ that means permanent injury or death.”
I tapped the mug. “And fae can’t bear ill intent?”
“Fae aren’t evil,” Eva said. “Some of us may turn dark, but none of us have ever served the Shade, not a one.”
Well, that was conviction.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“Dark fae don’t serve the light,” Eva said. “They serve themselves, or whatever cause they please.”
“So the only conclusion,” Loki finally said, hopping up onto the chair next to me, “is a non-fae got into the market.”
I glanced from him to Eva, who was waiting for me to translate. “He says it must have been a non-fae.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Eva’s foot tapped on the floor, a ringing noise through the kitchen she probably wasn’t even aware of. Her agitation was practically a palpable thing. “I wonder where she and Papa are at.”
I knew a little of what it felt like to hope your mother would come back. I’d been waiting for seven years.
“Here’s where you comfort her,” Loki said.
“I know that,” I shot back from the side of my mouth. But I didn’t quite know how. I wasn’t good at this sort of thing.
“It’s easy—like this.” Loki hopped up on the table, weaving with catlike grace between the cups and plates, and climbed without preamble into Eva’s lap.
The moment he did, a smile touched her lips. She rubbed a hand over his head, his nose coming up to greet her fingers.
If only it were that easy for people like me, I thought.
I rubbed a hand over the mug, considering how to break the silence. Finally, I said, “They’ll be back.”
Eva huffed with skepticism. “How do you know?”
“Because you said your mother’s the most capable fae you’ve ever met,” I said. �
��And she married your father.”
Appreciation crossed her features, and she went on petting Loki. I could hear him like a motor from all the way across the table; he was really turning it on for her.
I stood, picking up the tray. “I’m cutting us off. If we eat any more of these, we’ll regret—”
Keys sounded in the front door.
Eva and I stared at one another, and the tray wobbled in my hand before I set it back down.
The door opened before we could leave the kitchen. Footsteps sounded in the entryway. “It’s me.”
A man’s voice.
Eva stood, Loki slipping to the floor. She came to the doorway, holding it. “Papa?”
His face appeared, his salt-and-pepper hair in soft waves halfway down his neck, his eyes a deep blue. He wore a smile exactly like Eva’s. “I’m late. I’m sorry—but that one was a chase. We saved him, though, a boy of twelve.” He paused. “Where’s Nissa?”
Eva threw her arms around him, and the man I assumed to be Florian—Eva’s father—met eyes with me as his own arms went around her. “Something happened at the market,” Eva said in a muffled rush. “We were watched. Someone with ill intent, and gods I’m just so glad you’re here. I was so scared.”
“Ill intent?” Florian said, the smile disappearing. He met eyes with me once more before he backed Eva up. “Where is she?”
“She sent us back. She’s still out there.”
“I’ll go.” Florian didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even consider it. Already, just arrived, he was prepared to turn back around. “Stay here.”
“But…”
A hard knocking sounded on the frosted glass of the front door. Then a voice—Nissa’s voice. “It’s me. Open the door, would you, someone?”
When Florian let her in, she stopped hard, her cheeks red from the cold. She’d never recovered her jacket, and she had a cut on her forehead, a line of blood toward her hairline.
“Oh gods,” she said, mirroring Eva on seeing Florian. “You’re back.” She’d barely hugged him before her eyes strayed to Eva, then me. “And Oberon?”
“He’s upstairs,” Eva said.