I lean over the map, unable to tear myself away from those bright spots. The Bleed bombs in the mortal realm. One at Tredegar. Two at Maymont. Four at Hollywood Cemetery.
By the time we’re done, the mortal realm will be in chaos.
Syl will be far too preoccupied trying to save them to marshal her forces.
“You’ve done well.” The bain sidhe sidles over, sucking at her blackthorn toothpick. “Just like your mother.”
I can only nod, my throat dry and aching.
My cell buzzes. Again. Sliding it out of my pocket, I recognize the number. Pru’s.
Help me.
Can’t find Syl.
Need your help.
Please.
My hand trembles. Should I go? Everything’s on rails from here on out anyway. Once we have the weapons and troops we need, I’ll order Etana to have her redcaps detonate those Bleed bombs. When the time is right. Not now. Not yet.
Not like I’m stalling or anything.
“I’ll return soon,” I tell the bain sidhe. Then I stride from the War Room, feeling her eyes burning into my back.
No matter what, Pru’s part of my family of choice. She needs me. So I’m going.
15
SYL
Those who are touched by Faerie
Become their Fae selves
They eidolize
-Glamma’s Grimm
Ever have one of those crazy days where one thing leads to another, and you don’t have a second to catch your breath?
Today is definitely one of those days.
By the time me and the arch-Ýdyll return to Castle Caernarvon in OverHill, I’m on my last legs. Purifying that big Bleed took a lot out of me, but as Pluck, Thu Leian, Dahari, and Gorishka swoosh off toward the castle on their fairy winds, I realize my day’s not over yet. Nuwala'i and Fausto stay with me. The Faun points to the meadow below.
This again.
And I thought the dark Fae were sticklers for tradition and ritual.
I land in the meadow, scattering my fairy wind in a burst of sparks. Before me, the white stairs leading to the throne room stretch up, weaving through the wildflower meadow then the trees like the pearlescent spine of some ghostly beast.
Pearlescent…what? I shake my head, red curls bobbing. I must be tired. I’m starting to sound like Roue. Pain stabs in my heart, and stupidly, I reach for the bond. I just need try. Maybe I can open it again, feel her. Just for a second—
Nuwala'i nudges me, breaking my concentration. She points one rooty finger. “Up.”
“Why are we taking the stairs again?” The first time, Pluck insisted I “make an entrance.” It’s only me and the arch-Ýdyll here. Still, all the arch-Ýdyll are insistent.
The queen enters the castle from the front.
Fausto looks kindly on me, but Nuwala’i doesn’t waver. Neither does her finger. “Up.”
Swallowing my sigh, I climb. My legs are burning before I’ve taken my tenth step. I’m dead on my feet, my heart a ragged mess. I just want to fall into bed and sleep for a thousand hours. Then I see it below me. In the darkness of the snow-crusted Summer forest, tiny golden lights. Hundreds of them. Thousands. A haunting melody pierces the trees.
My people. Awakened, moving through the aftermath of the last Ravaging, shivering, bare feet crunching on snow. Lanterns lit with fae-fire guide their way through the dimness.
Fausto squeezes my shoulder like a kindly uncle. “It’s a Faerie Raide. A grand procession.”
I can’t look away. “But where are they going?”
Nuwala'i sniffs, one hand white-knuckled on her yew staff. “They go to the Somewhen. Only six days remain.” She points to the horizon, where a watery orange sun fades behind a sheet of snow.
Shivers slink down my spine. Only six more days before War.
“Let’s go.” Shaking off my exhaustion, I break into a run, pounding up the stairs, leaving Fausto and Nuwala'i behind me. The fwap-fwap of his bare feet and the tack-tack-tack of her cloven hooves chase me. Soon enough, I burst into the throne room, the bright opulence on one side dimmed by the threat of snow and Winter on the other.
Nuwala’i comes in after, out of breath. She slams her staff on the floor. “The queen! The queen!”
The cluster of arch-Ýdyll awaiting me by the bright arches takes a knee.
More ritual.
“There’s no time for this.” I don’t even break stride as I head toward the cluster of arch-Ýdyll awaiting me by the bright arches. “We only have six days before Utter War.” I might not be able to kill, but I’m great at planning. Time to lean into my strengths. But doubt gnaws at me.
Will my people follow me into peace—if I can somehow pull it off?
Looking around, all I see are solemn faces. Faces ready for battle.
But I have to try. “Pluck, send your Pixie spies to the mortal realm. They are to search for Bleeds and Bleed bombs and report back immediately.”
His eyebrows shoot up into his pink and blond hair. “Yes, Majesty.”
“Gorishka.”
The rock troll lumbers up, each step like grinding gravel.
“Take a contingent of Svartá and Trolls and protect the Raide. Report any damage from the Ravagings back to me.”
“Majesty.” She strikes her chest like a Roman centurion and bustles off.
I do the same for the others, giving them orders, gaining intel, marshaling our defenses, and trying to keep it defensive. I move our planning party back to the Solar around the golden map that covers the entire floor, all the different demesnes of Fair Faerie laid out. Dahari and Gorishka busy themselves, setting up pieces, an Aureate army vs. an Adamant.
Our army vs. Rouen’s.
I blow out a breath. “Fausto, let’s use your oracle powers to determine the most likely places for the dark Fae to set off Bleed bombs.” I pace at the map’s edge. “I’m the only one who can stop the bombs if they go off, so pinpointing likely targets is vital.”
With a nod, Fausto folds his hands into a meditative symbol. His eyes flush milky-white, his will-o’-wisps deepening their glow. They hum and buzz like tiny fireworks around him, nesting in his knotty hair and beard. I hear their whispers.
“Hollywood Cemetery.”
“Maymont Park.”
“Monument Avenue.”
By the time we’re done mapping out all the likely places for attack, my eyes are crossing with exhaustion. Amid protests, Laguna gently drapes his cape over me and corrals me toward my royal quarters. The white room is so bright it nearly blinds me as I check out the giant open-concept living area/bedroom with a white canopy bed and sunlight streaming in through the windows. From here, I can see the curve of Dark Faerie, where it’s jammed into Fair Faerie, darkness leaking out of it like a tumor.
Exhaustion hits me like a wave. “Thanks, Laguna. I just need a few minutes.”
His chuckle rolls like syrup and thunder. “Take more than a few, Summer child.” He chucks my chin. “I’ll have Nuwala'i bring you her special soup.”
“What is it? Eye of bat? Gut of Newt?”
“Chicken noodle.”
“Perfect.” Mom used to give that to me when I was sick. Best medicine in the whole world.
“You got it.” He strides out, all towering, shimmering elegance.
I just want a shower, a hot meal, and to fall into that plush bed. So when my phone buzzes, and it’s not Roue’s ringtone (or Mom’s or Glamma’s), I don’t want to answer it.
But it’s Pru.
Need ur help
ST weirds happening
Where r u?
Srsly. Where?
Crap. My bestie needs me. A nap will have to wait. I look longingly at my bed. Farewell, bed. I knew thee well. Almost. Then I peel back the Shroud and step onto the Snickleways.
I’m coming Pru.
The second I step back onto mortal turf, I call Pru, but she doesn’t pick up. Weird, because Pru always picks up. Once, she answered my call when she was in the shower a
nd then spent the next week with her phone in a bag of rice.
I switch gears and call Lennon. She picks up on the first ring. “Syl, where’ve you been! Pru… She’s at the school—”
“At school?” It’s 10 pm in the mortal realm. “I’ll meet you there.”
Twenty minutes later, me and Lennon are standing outside Richmond E, all the lights off, the parking lot deserted.
“Do you mind?” I nod at the security panel left of the door.
“Right!” Lennon pulls out her tiny, custom-made laptop. Her “deck,” she calls it. Heck, she can call it her “snoogie-woogums,” and I wouldn’t care. Because with lightning speed, she hacks into the school’s security system, and the panel goes green.
Clack! The door clicks open.
“After you.” Her voice drops, serious. “Pru’s in the pool.”
“Okay.” I drag out the word because yeah, Pru’s on the swim team and everything, but it’s 10:30 at night. School’s been over for hours. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Lennon toes the floor. “Maybe it’s best if you see her. You know, talk to her.”
Right. That’s not sinister or anything.
I rush toward the pool. The doors swing shut behind me and Lenn. The chlorine smell, the sound of running water, and shimmering pool lights washing the walls gives the place a creepy vibe.
“Pru?” My voice echoes weirdly in the damp space.
“I’m here.” From the deep end.
“Pru?” Stepping to the edge of the shallow end, I shield my eyes against the pool lights glowing eerily from the bottom. A soft splash followed oozy sucking sound shoots dread through me. “Pru?”
That’s when I see her.
Pru’s in the water, which is not too odd because she takes Swim Team super serious. Plus, she’s the only one on the team who can do the butterfly, and they have a dozen meets coming up.
What’s weird is the scintillating fish tail that slaps up out of the water, trailing finlike fronds of green and blue.
Like Pru’s hair.
Only, this isn’t her hair.
Pru’s eidolized.
I blow out a breath and hunch down, feeling crunched by the weight of what I’m seeing.
“Syl?” Lennon looks at me, awe and panic on her face. This is different from when I Awakened. I didn’t change physically. I haven’t even gotten my wings yet (Glamma says only truly powerful Fae have wings), but Pru… Every inch of her is changed. Her hair is fuller, brighter, and her olive-toned skin glows. Pale green scales shimmer up her sides, tapering to deep broody indigo toward her tail. Smaller fins along her tail give her the ability to steer, and gills slit her throat and her sides beneath her ribs.
“Okay, we can handle this.” I nod reassuringly. After all, it’s not so bad. Pru’s a Siren, but I’m the Queen of the Fair Fae, and I’ve got Laguna to help me. “No probl—”
But when Pru swims closer, my heart seizes up.
Wicked claws sprout from her fingers, serrated barbs edge her forearms and tailfin, her teeth gone sharp, her jaw streamlined so it can open wide to devour entire ships.
She’s not a Siren. She’s a Yara. A dark Fae mermaid who can unhinge her jaw and swallow ships and whales whole.
“Syl...” She meets my gaze, and I see in her eyes. She knows.
She’s not one of my people.
“I know you can’t help me.” She slaps her tail against the water, and a dozen razor-edged spikes shoot out from her tailfin and then retract. “I figured it out.”
My heart cries out for my friend. “That’s not true. I—”
“It’s okay.” She stops me. “Because I called someone else.”
A sudden presence prickles up my spine as a familiar figure steps from the shadows. Raven-dark hair, sapphire-blue eyes, bronze skin, beautiful, strong, badass. My heart leaps.
Roue.
She steps forward. “Pru’s one of mine.”
For a long moment, we square off, facing each other. The Queen of the dark Fae and the Queen of the fair Fae. Each of us needs to defeat the other, but neither of us makes a move.
I spread my hands. “I just want to help Pru.”
Rouen nods. She’s so beautiful, I can barely breathe. Even though my heart’s aching to throw myself at her, kiss her, try to make her see sense, I’m here for Pru. My bestie needs me.
Besides, a plan’s already forming in my mind. A crazy plan.
“I’m glad you feel the same way,” I say brightly. “Because I’ve got three words for you: Great Wolf Lodge.”
Roue’s left eyebrow goes up in that sexy way of hers. “What’s Great Wolf Lodge?”
“A water park.”
16
DARK - ROUEN
Everything is upside-down
Inside-out, topsy-turvy
Crazy with you
- “Crazy,” Euphoria
A water park. Indoor water slides, wave pools, floaties, a million people everywhere, splashing, swimming, running, feasting on delicious-smelling fried food, soda, and popcorn from the concession stands. No self-respecting dark Fae would be caught dead at one of these children-infested, chlorine-stinking tourist holes.
No dark Fae, that is, except me.
You’d think we had forever to save Faerie, not just five days.
But war takes preparation. There’s nothing I can do until my arch-Eld return from the tasks I assigned. So, here I am.
“Catch me, Syl!” Kshirin fearlessly leaps from the diving board. The teeny rakshasi’s wearing a Glamoury that makes her look like an adorable Indian girl with nut-brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes. Her little one-piece has green kittens in pajamas on them. Laughing, she hits the water with a splash.
Did I say adorable? I meant painfully adorable.
They all are.
The dark Fae kids, my pint-size partners in crime, have all come out for a little R&R. And to help Pru learn to be a proper Yara. Miz is in her glory, the tiny water drake sneakily making wave-funnels for the other kids to play in. Marrow sniffs the shallow end and make a yuck face. A hag, he prefers swamp water, but when Einslie nudges him in, he goes with her. Wearing water-wings and doing the doggie paddle.
Gah! Black…heart…melting…
Meanwhile, Pru’s gliding around the wave pool, a shimmering shark beneath the artificial surf. The Glamoury Syl and I put up together keeps Pru’s true nature a secret, even when her tail slaps the surface, or when she speeds up too fast and nearly crashes into the wall. A few minutes ago, she almost crashed into a group of teens.
That’s why Syl and I are on watch. Syl rescued Pru the first time.
I’ve got next.
In the pool, Pru zooms around underwater, getting used to the way her fins, tail, and fronds work. She’s making tighter and tighter turns, gaining confidence, until she’s a blur of blue-green. She doesn’t notice she’s going to crash into the mother and three kids just entering the pool.
“You’re up.” Syl smiles gently at me.
I hate getting wet, but I’d never let on that anything bothered me, especially not in front of my beautiful enemy.
“Cover me,” I say, then blush hard. You’re flirting with her, Roue.
Syl’s grey eyes meet mine, a stab to my heart. “You know I will.”
Ignoring my guilty conscience, fwoosh! I windwarp in, hidden by our Glamoury, and spot Pru barreling beneath the waves, right at Mom and kids. Mom’s paying no attention. It’d serve her right to get crushed by a runaway dark mermaid.
But the cleanup would be a chore.
Time to get wet. I plunge in and grab Pru, using my Fae strength to hoist her clear.
“Whoa, thanks.” She gives me a tentative smile, filled with jagged teeth. She looks a bit haggard, and who wouldn’t? Twenty-four hours ago, she was a normal high school girl. Now, she’s a dark Fae, and our world is collapsing.
She picked a cruddy time to join the club.
“I got you,” I tell her, and I mean it.
“Uh…” Awkwardly, I let her slip into the water and head back to the deep end, to my and Syl’s lookout point. Since my Glamoury’s up, I wave a hand, and all the water on my skin and swimsuit crystallizes.
I brush it off into sparkling ice.
“Nice trick.” Syl says, giving me an approving look. Does this mean she forgives me for what happened to Pru? Because I’m nearly positive it’s my fault.
The Bleed bomb. Pru’s Swim Team was on Brown’s Island that day.
“Syl, watch me! Watch me!” Marrow does a giant cannonball into the pool, splashing everyone, but Syl just laughs.
“Good one!” Her gaze catches mine.
I can’t keep the goofy smile off my face.
I don’t want to.
Syl sits on the edge and slips her feet into the water. “We may as well join them.”
I shake my head. “I’m not getting wet again.” Not even for the cutest gir—
Splash! Marrow nails me with the spray from his second cannonball. I’m drenched from head to toe. Syl’s laughing, Lennon’s laughing, Pru…everyone. All righty then. Smirking, I lean down and touch the wave pool. Ice crackles across it, giving everyone the shivers. Several people run racing from the pool.
“It got cold all of a sudden!”
“Brrr!”
“Let’s try the pool on the other side!”
“Good.” I brush my hands off, watching the other swimmers vacate our spot. “Now Pru can have the wave pool to herself.”
Syl shakes her head. “You are evil.” She’s teasing me.
I go with it. “Freezing the wave pool is hardly high on my list of Evil Bad Guy Schemes.” When I think of what really is on that list—Bleed bombs, hostile Faerie takeovers, war—my guilt roars back, full force.
Pru swims over, worry in her eyes. “Rouen, am I going to be okay?” She says it beneath the rush of everyone leaving, so only I hear—and maybe Syl.
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