by E. D. Baker
The grating sound of stone on stone drew their eyes to the gargoyle. It was standing now, and as they watched, it took a step forward even as its stone surface took on the appearance of leathery hide. “I am the guardian of this gate,” he said in a voice so low and penetrating that the floor seemed to vibrate. “Leave now, jackal goblins, while you still can.”
Jak felt as if his feet had grown roots; he was too terrified to budge. He heard the goblins pelt from the room, but his eyes were fixed on the gargoyle, so he saw when the beast turned its massive, craggy head in his direction.
“Good, they’re gone,” said the gargoyle in a much less fearsome voice. “I don’t like thugs, but there’s nothing I can do about them until they break the rules. They never should have gone after you when humans were around. And they broke a light! Do you know how hard I work to make sure nothing draws the humans’ attention to this garden?”
“I’m sure you do,” said Jak, sounding half strangled. He cleared his throat and added, “I was told you could show me the way to the gate.”
“It’s right there,” growled the gargoyle. “You were just looking at it. See, it’s open. You can . . . Aw, heck. The fountain is still on. Just a minute.”
The gargoyle’s joints creaked as he inched forward. He waved his paw at the fountain and the spray stopped abruptly. Shuffling his feet, the beast returned to his original position and lowered himself into a crouch. “We don’t want humans seeing the gate when it’s open, so the water goes on when they’re in the garden. It makes the shimmery light harder to see.”
Jak turned to the trees again; the shimmering lights were back. “Thanks!” he said, and grinned at the gargoyle.
“Hurry,” said the gargoyle as his hide turned back to stone. “I hear a large group of humans coming.”
Jak’s smile broadened as he hefted his backpack higher on his shoulder. He might not know exactly where he was going, but at least now he could get there.
Chapter 5
The moon was beginning its descent from the night sky when Tamisin dreamed of Jak. He looked much the way he had when she saw him last: his thick black hair tousled and his deep blue eyes darkened with worry as he tried to figure out why she was avoiding him. She felt herself turn away as he swore that he would never stop loving her.
After a time the dream-Jak faded away, and a cloud of fairies dressed in flower colors replaced him. In this part of her dream, Tamisin flew with the fairies, darting over wildflowers and racing across a rainbow. She was enjoying the dream until her bed began to sway and she rose from the depths of sleep. Opening her eyes for an instant, she saw Oberon hovering over her, but it still seemed like part of the dream. Her eyes drifted shut, and she was lingering on the edge of sleep when Oberon dripped flower-scented nectar onto her eyelids, whispering about fatherhood and that she was his daughter who wanted to live at his court and never leave. As she drifted off to sleep again, she felt the nectar and dreamed that someone had kissed her eyelids. The sensation combined with Oberon’s words to make her feel warm and loved. Tamisin snuggled deeper under the covers.
Less than a minute later a sturdy figure climbed up the tree trunk and crept along the branch. Tamisin was still dreaming as the blue boy whispered that he was her one true love, and that she was to forget the boy named Jak. When Tamisin rolled over, the boy backed off the branch and down the trunk of the tree, leaving her to a confused dream that made her feel restless and uneasy.
She woke when a tiny bird flitting from branch to branch just above her sang to its neighbors with a warbling trill. Tamisin had a feeling that something had changed, although she didn’t know what it might be.
She couldn’t wait to spend the day with Oberon and explore his forest. Wiping a strange stickiness from her eyelids, she smiled, delighted that Mountain Ash and Oberon had brought her here. She’d been sure that her biological father was dead, but he wasn’t at all, and now she could actually get to know him! Tamisin’s heart felt light until it occurred to her that Titania had lied. Who knew what other lies her mother had told her?
This thought made Tamisin angry, souring her good mood. She sat up and looked around. The side of the bed was high enough that she couldn’t have rolled out if she’d wanted to, which was good, because when she peered over the edge, she saw that the bed appeared to be about ten feet above the forest floor. It had been dark when she’d finally climbed into it, and she had been so tired that she hadn’t even tried to see what was around her.
“Good morning!” called a voice, and Tamisin peered over the edge again. Dasras was there, tossing an apple in the air with one hand. “I brought you some breakfast,” he said.
Tamisin’s heartbeat quickened and her breath caught in her throat. She ducked out of sight long enough to comb her hair with her fingers and straighten her rumpled shift. “I’ll be right down,” she called as she opened her wings. Noticing Dasras’s admiring gaze as she fluttered to the ground, she blushed, suddenly self-conscious.
“You have beautiful wings,” he told her, his gaze as warm as a caress.
“Thank you for saying so,” she said, feeling her face flush even redder. Twitching the muscles in her back, she folded her wings and tucked them into the creases between her shoulder blades, aware that Dasras was watching. She’d put them away in front of her parents and . . . someone else she couldn’t quite remember, but no one had ever watched her with such intensity before. “And thank you for the apple,” she added, taking it from his outstretched hand. Their fingers touched for an instant, and an electric tingle traveled through her arm.
Tamisin glanced up and their eyes met. She swayed toward him, as if drawn by an invisible string, then blinked, shook her head, and stepped back. What was she doing? she wondered. She’d just met Dasras the day before!
Dasras smiled and her heart seemed to flutter. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
Tamisin nodded. “I did, although I had the strangest dreams. I dreamed that . . .” A sudden sharp pain in her foot made her wince and look down. She had shifted her feet when she was talking and stepped on a stone. Although many of the fairies had bare feet, Tamisin didn’t think she would be able to walk very far that way.
“Do you know where I can get some shoes?” she asked Dasras, gingerly setting her foot on a patch of bare ground.
“We’ll go see the cobbler,” said Dasras. “He’s only a brownie, but he’s very good at his trade.”
The look Dasras gave her made Tamisin’s cheeks flush again, and she turned away, not sure what to think. He was very attractive and she had the strangest feeling that he was the one for her, but she didn’t know why she would feel so strongly so quickly. After all, it hadn’t been until she’d gotten to know . . . Tamisin frowned. She was sure that she used to be crazy about someone, but she couldn’t remember whom.
“Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?” Dasras asked.
“Of course,” she said, and glanced down at the fruit in her hand. Humans had to eat more than just fruit, didn’t they? But if both of her parents were fairies, then she was a fairy, too. Tamisin shrugged and took a big bite of the apple. She was just used to eating more; she’d be fine once she’d been there some time.
“Is something wrong?” Dasras asked.
He looked worried about her, which Tamisin thought was sweet. She gave him her brightest smile and said, “Not at all.”
“We should go see the cobbler now. I have a long list of places I want to show you, but you won’t get far if you’re used to wearing shoes.”
Tamisin’s eyes lit up. “Is he down by the shore? I’d like to see the ocean again.”
“Brownies don’t go to the shore,” said Dasras with a wave of his hand. “They live on the other side of the briars with the rest of the servants. That’s where we’re going now. It’s just down the hill from the glade where you talked to Oberon yesterday.”
“The brownies are servants?” she said, joining him as he began to walk.
“Of course.”
Dasras gave her a quizzical look. “They aren’t fairies, are they?”
“You mean they’re servants simply because they aren’t fairies?”
“Fairies are the highest class of the fey. Anyone else should be honored to serve them. I know all this is new to you, but everyone . . . Oh, look. There’s Buttercup. Let me introduce you.”
Buttercup had bouncy blond curls and wore a short dress made of yellow flower petals. Pale green slippers with curved toes covered her tiny feet, and tights the same shade of green covered her legs. She was carrying a woven basket filled with buttercups and seemed to be in a hurry. When Dasras called to her, she turned, her curls bobbing around her shoulders, her blue eyes wide in surprise.
“Dasras! How are you today? And is this the princess? Imagine meeting you here!” Buttercup giggled. “I’m taking these buttercups to Narlayna. I picked them this morning after the dew settled. They’re still wet. See!” Plucking a handful of blossoms from the basket, she shook them in Tamisin’s face, showering her with droplets. “My gown is about to wilt and Narlayna is making me a new one. Don’t you just hate it when your gown wilts? It looks so bad, and everyone thinks you can’t take care of your flowers if the petals you’re actually wearing dry out.”
“Uh, sure,” said Tamisin. “That would be awful.” It occurred to her that she really didn’t know much about being a fairy. She certainly didn’t know anything about wilting clothes.
“Oh, dear. Would you look at the time!” Buttercup said, peering through the branches at the sun. “I’m running late. I should have inspected two meadows by now. See you later!” The fairy ran off, leaving a trail of buttercups behind her.
“She seemed . . . nice,” said Tamisin.
“I thought you would like her,” said Dasras.
They were approaching a stream when a tall, orange-haired fairy wearing an orange gown dotted with black stepped between two thickets. Her expression was sour, and she didn’t seem nearly as lighthearted.
“Hello, Lily,” Dasras said without much enthusiasm.
“Dasras,” she said, acknowledging him with a curt nod. She glanced at Tamisin, and for a fraction of a second Tamisin thought she saw a flash of contempt in the fairy’s eyes. “Princess,” said Lily before turning back to Dasras. “Are you going to the other side of the briars?”
The blue boy nodded. “We’re on our way to see Malcolm about shoes for the princess.”
“If you’re going there anyway, you can take these to Narlayna,” Lily said, holding up a small bouquet of orange tiger lilies. “Tell her to drop whatever she’s doing and start this right away. I need a new cap by tonight. I’ve been away, and my old cap was ruined in a thunderstorm.”
“Actually, we—” Dasras began.
“Lily!” called a voice, and a male fairy appeared behind her. “What’s taking so long? You know we have to . . . Well, well, what have we here?”
“Dasras seems to be giving the princess a tour,” Lily said in a tone that implied she had just tasted something bad. “They’re taking my flowers to Narlayna.”
“We never said—” Dasras began.
“The princess! We’ve heard so much about you!” The male fairy snatched the pointed green cap from his head and flourished it even as he bowed. “My friends have neglected to introduce me, so I’ll gladly claim the task. I’m Hawthorne,” he said, grinning up at Tamisin.
Lily thrust her bouquet at Dasras. “Here! We have to go.”
Dasras fumbled and nearly dropped the bouquet. Lily gave him a scornful glance before returning back through the thicket.
Tamisin watched until all she could see of the fairies was the tip of Hawthorne’s cap bobbing above the greenery. “What was that all about?” she asked.
“Shh!” Dasras said softly, holding his finger in front of his lips.
“So,” they could hear Lily saying to Hawthorne, “what did you think of her?”
“She’s a bit chunky for a fairy, but who am I to say who’s a full-blood these days?” said Hawthorne. “There’s no denying she’s Titania’s brat, but as for the rest . . .”
“Oberon will believe what he wants to believe, and there’s nothing you or I can say to change that,” Lily said, her voice dwindling with distance. “Once he learned that Titania had a daughter, he was convinced that the girl was his child.”
Hawthorne’s reply was too faint to make out. Tamisin turned to Dasras, who was glaring at the lilies in his hand. “Why do I get the feeling that she doesn’t like me?” she asked. “We’ve never even met before.”
Dasras shrugged. “A lot of the fairies in Oberon’s court don’t think you belong here. Some don’t believe that you’re really his daughter; others think you might be, but that you’ve aligned yourself with Titania and have come here to spy for her. Fairies are a very distrustful lot, even of their own kind.”
“At least they aren’t all as rude as Lily.”
“I’d like to say that Lily is the worst of them, but she isn’t. At least she’s open about the way she feels. Fairies like Hawthorne, on the other hand, will be nice to your face, then stab you in the back if they get a chance. Ah, here we are,” Dasras said as he stopped at the edge of a stream. “Let me help you.”
Tamisin took his hand and followed him across the water, setting her feet on the large, flat stones that made a path from one side to the other. His hand felt cool and dry, so unlike another hand she remembered holding. That other hand had warmed her own and felt so right that for a time she’d held it as often as she could. And the owner of the hand . . . If only she could remember!
When she looked up, Tamisin saw that they were in a large, well-kept meadow. A tall, thin nymph dressed in fluttering leaves tended to the aspen trees growing alongside the stream. Fairies sat in groups among the wildflowers, talking among themselves until Dasras and Tamisin came close. The fairies grew silent then, and Tamisin could feel their eyes on her as she passed by.
In the center of the meadow, small flower fairies were playing with a dandelion puff, tossing it back and forth between them so deftly that it maintained its fluffy shape no matter how hard they hit it. Dasras and Tamisin skirted the little group, heading for a massive hedge that defined the back of the meadow. As they drew closer, Tamisin saw that it was made completely of briars and was so tall that she couldn’t have reached the top even if she’d stood on tiptoe. The wall looked impenetrable from a distance, but Dasras led her directly to a narrow gap in the briars that she didn’t see until she was close enough to touch the prickly plants.
“The servants live on the other side of this hedge,” Dasras said, stepping into the gap. “Some of them do their work there, and the others have to go back after their work is completed in the fairy side of the forest. There’s a curfew at night; they can get in real trouble if they aren’t on their side after the curfew.”
The hedge was about ten feet thick. Here and there Tamisin could see scraps of fabric and broken twigs where passersby had been unable to avoid the thorns. “Why didn’t we fly over this?” she asked, pushing aside a twig.
Dasras glanced back at her. “You could have, but I don’t have wings,” he said as if it wasn’t important. There was an almost imperceptible catch in his voice, however, and suddenly Tamisin understood why he’d looked at her wings the way he had earlier that morning. He hadn’t been admiring them as much as wishing he had some of his own.
It hadn’t occurred to her that he wasn’t a fairy. He was blue, which meant that he wasn’t a human, so she’d just assumed that he was a fairy, too. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“Narlayna’s cave is just through those trees,” he said as she stepped out of the briars.
Tamisin stopped to look around, surprised at the differences between this forest and the one on the fairies’ side. The other forest had been well groomed, whereas this one had been left in its natural state. Trees grew closer together here, their branches interlaced as they competed for sunlight. Ferns peeped between broken branches that la
y uncollected on the ground. Vines grew up the trunks, wrapping themselves around the branches and weighing down the smaller ones. Instead of smelling like masses of flowers, this forest smelled of damp earth and old tree trunks crumbling into decay on the forest floor. It was wild. It was messy. It was exactly the way a forest should be.
“We’ll drop Lily’s flowers off with Narlayna first,” Dasras explained, “then go see Malcolm about your shoes. Don’t be afraid when you see Narlayna. She’s an ogress, but she won’t hurt you.”
“I’ve met ogresses before,” said Tamisin. “There are some at Titania’s court.”
“Hunh” was all Dasras said, but from the look he gave her, Tamisin had the feeling that he didn’t want to hear about the fairy queen or her court.
Although the paths weren’t lined with smooth pebbles or soft moss as on the other side, enough people had passed through the forest that they had trodden well-defined paths into the forest floor. Tamisin followed Dasras down one such path through a grove of pine trees to a cave set in the side of a hill.
Two large pine trees guarded the path to Narlayna’s cave, and they had to go around them to see into the entrance itself. The tall trees cast wide shadows, but just beyond the cool shade the front of the cave was bathed in sunlight, making a cozy spot for the ogress to do her work. They found Narlayna sitting on a stump, her hands flying as she plucked cherry blossoms from a basket to assemble a delicate skirt that looked like flowers floating on a breeze.
Narlayna rubbed her nose with the back of her fingers before raising her head, revealing red eyes and puffy lids. Tamisin thought that she wasn’t the least bit frightening. The ogress had brown shoulder-length hair that was blond at the ends, and dark brown eyes that might have looked friendly if she hadn’t been so obviously upset. She did have one eyebrow that extended over both eyes, and a few long hairs sprouting from a mole on her cheek, but they weren’t anything a good pair of tweezers couldn’t fix. If the ogress hadn’t been one and a half times the size of a human woman, she might have looked like someone Tamisin could have run across at the mall.