“This isn’t jus’ a crime against we Nitegrans,” the woman goes on. “Oh nay. The Fifth as a unit is under attack, ain’t it? Will ye stand by me in tha fight fer our freedom from the Troll’s tyranny?”
Another series of shouts echoes across the crowd, a unanimous “aye” from the attendees.
What happened here is a message. A note written in blood. The Fairy Queen wants Elizabeth, and she’ll keep wasting lives until she exacts her revenge. I shudder to think what would’ve happened had Isabeau known about my adoptive mother, Tiernan’s true wife. I’ve only met Isabeau as a woman, never witnessed the Troll firsthand. However, Makai relayed the details of Em’s coronation attack. If the Fairy Queen appeared here in her most hideous state, I’d wager rage has overtaken her soul. Anger fuels the Void. Why would this be any different?
I tug my shirt from where it’s tucked into my belt and wipe the sweat from the back of my neck. My nose runs and my eyes itch. I use my shirt to wipe my face as well. When yet another stretcher goes by, a lock of red hair snaking over the edge, a sense of dread runs through me.
“Wait.” With an outstretched hand I appeal to the men carrying the deceased. “May I?” I have to know.
The carriers exchange a glance, then the one at the stretcher’s head nods.
I hold my breath as I lift the top corner of the canvas. Bile rises into my throat. Of course she’d be one of the lost. If the Troll showed up, Charley would’ve been one of the first to take a stand.
“Thank you.” I back away. Every muscle grows taut. The Void swirls in satisfaction at the close-to-home loss.
“See? Death is inevitable. Why fight what you know wins in the end?”
That’s what you think. Charley was loyal to the Verity. In her case, death was merely a Threshold leading to the First Reflection.
“Another Fairy tale?” Kyaphus hisses. “When will you cease listening to stories and learn to grow up?”
I sling my sullied shirt over one shoulder. “Never.”
“Rhyen.”
I pivot on my heel to find the Commander.
He removes his bow and quiver, then proceeds to shrug out of his trench coat. “Just the man I have been looking for.” He rolls his coat and ties it around his quiver like an oversized bandana, then returns his weapon and ammo to their perch on his back. “Twelve pronounced dead and over thirty injured. Isabeau is nowhere to be found, but she left the mark of her Troll behind. We have counted a dozen deceased Fairies already, but according to the tribe’s Physic there is no sign of injury. It is as if they simply . . . died.”
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Josh, tone mocking, joins us on Makai’s other side. Until now he’s been sulking by the compound’s entrance with his hands tied behind his back and his tail between his legs. “The woman is desperate. Otherwise she would not leave the safety of her hiding places within the Fairy Fountains. This is not about revenge on El’s mother alone. Her Majesty seeks something beyond what the satisfaction of vengeance can provide.”
I raise a brow. Her Majesty, is it? “Care to let us in on what that something might be, Brother?”
His teeth clench at the term, but he doesn’t growl this time. Way to go, Josh. Wasn’t sure you had it in you to be a decent Homo sapien.
“How should I know? I retrieved her blasted Midnight Rose from the Fourth’s countess, gave her a drop of my blood—”
Makai places a firm hand on his shoulder. “You gave her your blood? Why did you fail to mention this?”
Josh shrugs. “What does it matter? She’s immortal and has no need for the commodity. However, she also fancies a barter. I assumed she wanted it for leverage in trade. I’m sure I am not the first to seek an item of rarity from her.”
“And what item of rarity would that be?” I ask.
Josh pauses, then glances between us. My brother’s eyes narrow, but I can tell he’s finally going to give. We share a glare that feels longer than the second it lasts. Despite our differences. Despite the darkness clouding his soul. Despite his stubborn pigheadedness, we still share a common goal.
Find Em.
“A mirrorglass bottle,” Josh says.
I grip the blade fastened to my side. Mirrorglass has a reverse effect. My tear on Em’s lips . . .
“Son of a Soulless, David. Is that how you did it? By reversing her love and turning it into hatred?”
He smiles.
I will not punch him. He’s not worth it.
“Well.” Makai sighs, never fazed it seems. “That settles that. We can come back to how to restore Eliyana’s memory—ehm, feelings—at a later date—”
Josh laughs and a huddle of women frown. The heartless Ever doesn’t give a Dragon’s tail, though. “Restore? Do you presume I would be so careless? Do you believe I would go to such lengths for something that could simply be undone?” His eyes look crazed, wild, with pupils so dilated his dark irises appear almost completely black.
More Nitegrans swivel to gawk at Josh and his boasting. Apparently my brother’s dark side has no gauge for propriety. Not that I’ve ever been one to care what others think, but this is different. People have died. People we know. Show some respect, man.
Makai’s mouth turns down. “I would like to speak to Joshua for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
Josh guffaws at the request. “He’s gone.” His eyes darken more, if possible. “And he’s never coming back.”
“Nonsense.” Makai pulls his gray hair into a short ponytail and secures it at his neck. “Nothing is permanent. Not even death.”
My breathing sharpens at his words. I can’t hear the line without my mother’s voice taking over. How could I forget? The phrase is from The Lament of the Fairy Queen. The ending had been lost to me.
Until now.
I step away from the pair.
“Be reasonable.” Makai appeals to the man behind the shadows. “Let’s talk this out like men . . .” His voice fades the farther I retreat. No doubt his pleadings are met with more sarcasm and disrespect.
I roll my eyes. Will Mr. Invisibility Shield never learn? Not everything can be dealt with by talking it through. Sometimes action is more effective than conversation. I’ve no desire to be insubordinate, but every bone, every muscle in my body is telling me to step in and take charge. And no, that’s not the Void in me. It’s simple common sense. We’ve tried talking to him. What Josh needs is to put his sword to my knife. No interferences. No referees. A little blood and sweat never hurt anyone.
Suppressing a sneeze instead of the Void for once, I creep farther away from the crowd. Shouts of agreement remain audible in the distance, but not so loud I can’t think. When I reach the cliff where Em and I sat beneath the stars our night here, I sit with one leg bent and the other dangling over the cliff’s edge. Then I withdraw Once Upon a Reflection from my pack.
My mother’s copy was newer, the words typeset rather than handwritten. This edition could be the original or simply a copy penned by a Scrib. Hers may have been more generic, but she still treated it as if it was sacred text, turning each page carefully and smoothing it out before reading.
I do the same as I peruse. Countess Ambrose was gracious enough to lend this to me, knowing we might need the allegories on our journey to the Garden of Epoch. Interesting that both The Scrib’s Fate and The Lament of the Fairy Queen (or The Fairy Queen’s Lament, depending on the version and who you ask) appear to be about Isabeau, the original Verity’s vessel herself. How many other stories in this book reference her? Could all be related?