The Modern Faerie Tales Read online

  Roiben drew in a sharp breath as though to scream, but he was silent.

  Nephamael threw back his head and laughed, hand still stroking the chess piece. “I further order that you shall not do yourself any harm, unless I specifically ask you to. And now, my newly made knight, seize the pixie.”

  Roiben turned to Kaye as Lutie screamed from her pocket. Kaye sprinted for the door, but he was far too quick. He grabbed her hair in a clump, jerking her head back, then just as suddenly let her go. After an amazed moment, Kaye dashed through the door.

  “You may be well versed in following orders, but you are a novice at giving them,” she heard Roiben say as she ran back into the maze of the library.

  Before, she had simply followed Roiben through the winding bookshelves—now, she had no idea where she was going. She turned and turned and turned again, relieved that she didn’t see any of the strange secret-keepers. Then, careening past a podium with a small stack of books piled on it, she turned into a dead end.

  Lutie crawled out of her pocket and was buzzing around her. “What’s to do, Kaye? What’s to do?”

  “Shhh,” Kaye said. “Try to listen.”

  Kaye could hear her own breathing, could hear pages fluttering somewhere in the room, could hear what sounded like cloth dragging across the floor. No sounds of footsteps. No pursuit.

  She tried to draw glamour around her, to color her skin to be like the wall behind her. She felt the ripple of magic roll through her and looked down at her wood-colored hand.

  What were they going to do? Guilt and misery threatened to overwhelm her. She put her head between her legs and took a couple of deep breaths.

  She had to get them free.

  Which was absurd. She was only one pixie girl. She barely knew how to use glamour, barely knew how to use her own wings.

  Clever. The word taunted her, the sum of all the things she ought to be and was not.

  Think, Kaye. Think.

  She took a deep breath. She’d solved the riddles. She’d gotten Roiben out of the court. She’d even more or less figured out how to use her glamour. She could do this.

  “Let’s go. Please—let’s go,” Lutie said, settling on Kaye’s knee.

  Kaye shook her head. “Lutie, there has to be something. If I just think.”

  They were all faeries. Okay, then she had to think like a human girl. She had to consider things she knew how to do. Lighter tricks. Shoplifting. And she especially had to think about the things that faeries didn’t like.

  Iron.

  Kaye looked back at Lutie. “What would happen if I swallowed iron?”

  Lutie shrugged. “You’d burn your mouth. You might die.”

  “What if I poisoned someone with iron?”

  Lutie shifted uncomfortably on Kaye’s knee, looking incredulous. “But there’s no iron here!”

  Kaye took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her mind was racing ahead too fast, she had to slow down, calm down. There might be iron in the Unseelie Court, part of weapons, certainly, although she had no idea where any of that would be kept. It was all over outside here, everywhere.

  She looked down at her body. What did she have that was from Ironside? Her T-shirt, panties, boots . . . the green frock coat was only glamour, after all.

  Kaye unlaced her boots quickly. There was definitely iron in them, obscured from directly touching her skin, but there nonetheless. She pulled them off her feet and looked them over. There was iron in the steel grommets, she could feel the warmth, buried under the black plastic coating. There were steel plates buried in the toes of the boots too, although they would be much too big to use unless she could somehow file them down. Kaye took the knife Roiben had handed her out of her frock-coat pocket and began to pry the soles off the boots. There, as the soles were ripped up and off, were exposed shoe tacks, shiny steel nails so small that that they could be swallowed without anyone the wiser.

  Kaye took the knife in one hand, a boot in the other, and began digging them out.

  Corny was awash in new emotions. He sat on the dirt floor of a massive palace beneath the earth. Courtiers played instruments, and Nephamael fed him fat globes of cloak-dark grapes. Around Corny were creatures, small and large, slaking their thirst, gambling with riddles and a game that involved hurling somewhat round stones.

  The world shrank to those grapes. Nothing was better than brushing his mouth over those fingers, nothing sweeter than the burst of each black jewel in his mouth.

  “I think you have entirely too much dignity. I command that you dance,” Nephamael said to his new prisoner.

  Below the dais, a small crowd gathered apart from their regular activities to watch Roiben dance.

  The knight’s body was a bow string loosed. His silvery hair streamed like a pennant, but his eyes seemed apart from his body, darting like those of an animal that would tear off its leg to be free of a trap. He did not falter, but his movements were sudden, his spirals desperate. Corny did not want to pity him, so he looked away. A grape fell from the King’s hand, but Corny was no longer careful.

  The knight danced on as the Unseelie Gentry laughed and japed.

  “Too easy. It will take too long to tire him. Whip him as he dances.”

  Three goblins stepped forward to do as he asked. Red lines opened along his chest and back.

  Corny was very glad that Kaye wasn’t here now.

  “What task shall I set him to for his redemption in my court? I want to keep him. He’s been a lucky talisman so far.”

  “Let him find us a wingless bird that can still fly.”

  “Find us a goat whose teats are filled with wine instead of milk.”

  “Yes, bring us a sweet goat like that.”

  “Boring, boring, boring,” Nephamael said and leaned back in the throne. Looking down at Corny, he smiled a smile that was like sinking your teeth into cake.

  “You missed a few baubles,” he said teasingly. “Pick them up . . . with your tongue.”

  Corny looked away from Roiben, not having realized that his eyes had strayed. He did as he was told.

  It was hardly a plan, really. Kaye had glamoured herself to look like Skillywidden, the only person she remembered well from the Unseelie Court that she could guess wouldn’t be beside the throne. She did impersonations of the crone quietly in the hall, but Lutie was no help at all, laughing so hard that the little faerie was barely able to control her flying.

  Then with the thin iron nails burning the inside of her cupped palm, she went in search of the main hall. It wasn’t hard to find. Past the chess room, there were other doors, but only one stairway that led up.

  The hall of the Unseelie Court was much as she remembered it and nearly as full tonight as when she’d been there last. This time, coming in as she had from the center of the palace, she entered directly behind the raised dais. Roiben was dancing there, raw red lines open on his back. Nephamael sat on the ornate, wooden throne, iron circlet burning on his brow. She saw him drop a hand to caress Corny’s hair.

  She took a deep breath and stepped onto the dais, walking straight up to the redcap who was acting as wine steward, holding a silver-and-lizard-skin carafe of wine ready for refilling the new King’s goblet.

  “Eh, seamstress?” the man queried, giving her a grin that revealed sharp, yellow, overlapping teeth.

  And then Lutie did exactly what she was supposed to do, buzzing past the man’s face so that he snatched for her with one hand and didn’t notice Kaye dropping iron nails into the wine. Reverse shoplifting. Easy. Much easier than slipping rats into her pockets.

  “Skillywidden.” Kaye turned to see Nephamael was speaking to her. “Come here, seamstress.”

  Kaye looked around; Lutie had managed to flutter off, but Kaye couldn’t see her. Even though Kaye knew that was the better thing, the safer thing, she couldn’t keep from being worried. There were already so many people hurt because of her. Kaye took a deep breath and walked to Nephamael, curtsying in what she hoped was a fair approx
imation of the seamstress.

  “Ah,” he said, gesturing in the direction of Roiben. “My new plaything. Strong, as you can see. Lovely, even. I need a costume for him. I think that I would like something in green. Perhaps the livery of a Seelie page? I think I would like that.”

  Kaye nodded, and when he looked toward Roiben again, she began to back away.

  “A moment more,” Nephamael said. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. “Come closer.”

  She stepped obediently forward.

  Grinning wickedly, Nephamael sprang from his chair and grabbed her by one spindly shoulder. His expression was near enough to glee to make Kaye’s stomach twist in fear. Magic surrounded her, ripping at her glamour. She felt like she was being clawed apart. She knew she was shrieking but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t do anything as her glamour was rent. She fell to her knees, now in the shirt and underwear she had woken in, hair still stiff with brine.

  There were loud gasps and shouts.

  “Gag her,” he said, “then tie her hands behind her back and give me the leash.” One of his people came forward to do so.

  Settling back on his throne, he gestured for more wine. Kaye held her breath, but he merely took the goblet and did not drink.

  “Now this is an unexpected treat. A prop for my little games. Come here, Roiben.”

  Roiben paused, his body trembling with the aftershocks of exertion and violence. The red welts across his chest and back, some still bleeding, were horrible to see. He came forward to stand in front of Nephamael.

  “Kneel.”

  Roiben sank to his knees with a small gasp of pain.

  Nephamael reached into the folds of his cloak and brought out a dagger. It had a golden blade, the handle made of horn. He tossed it in front of Roiben, where it landed with a clatter.

  “My command is this: When I say ‘begin,’ take the knife and cut the pixie until she dies. The game is whether you will kill her slowly, making her suffer prettily for my amusement as you stall for time . . . or cut her throat in one easy swipe. That would be the considerate thing to do. Ah,” he sighed dramatically, lifting the goblet high above his head, “if only you could stop hoping.”

  Roiben’s face went blank with shock.

  She shivered. It was hard to take breaths with the gag in her mouth, and there was no way she could speak.

  “Begin,” Nephamael said, saluting with the goblet.

  Roiben turned, his eyes wet, his jaw trembling. He took a breath, looking at the knife in his hands and then at Kaye. He closed his eyes, and she saw him making some terrible peace with himself, coming to some terrible decision.

  She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. Instead, she tried to meet Roiben’s eyes, tried to plead with her expression, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  As she waited for the knife to decide its angle, she saw Nephamael lift the goblet to his mouth, tipping it back for a deep draught. For a moment, there was no reaction; he only wiped the edge of his lips with two fingers. Then he coughed, looking startled, looking wildly around the brugh. His eyes met hers. Nephamael dropped to his knees, scratching at his throat. He opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, perhaps to scream, but there was no sound.

  Then her vision was blocked by Roiben, taking a trembling breath, the golden knife still in his hand. She remembered that no counterorder had been given. Roiben was still bound to the command.

  She thrashed, side to side.

  And she felt tiny fingers working at the loops of the gag.

  Roiben’s face was a mask of shock and horror as he watched his own hand lower the golden blade toward her skin.

  Kaye took a series of deep breaths, preparing herself. When she felt the gag loosen, she spat out the cloth and stepped into the knife, whispering, “Rath Roiben Rye, stop. . . . I command you to stop. . . . I command you to . . .” She felt the knife bite into her arm as she spoke, heard his sob, before the thing dropped from his hand.

  Then she sprang up, beating her wings hard. She rose easily toward the overturned bowl of the ceiling, hovering for a moment. Lutie rose up beside her, fumbling with the rope tying Kaye’s hands.

  Then from one of the entrances, there was the stomping of knights, the sound of armor, and of bells. The Seelie Court had arrived.

  15

  Better to reign in Hell, then to serve in Heav’n.

  —JOHN MILTON, PARADISE LOST (BOOK I)

  The knights stepped into the room first, all of them costumed in deep green armor that resembled the carapaces of insects. Next came a dozen ladies, each one dressed in a different-color gown. Kaye noted Ethine was in soft gold. After the courtiers came the Queen, resplendent in a moon-pale gown, very like the one in Roiben’s tapestry. Over it she wore a peacock-blue cape that swept the floor as she walked calmly toward the dais.

  “Roiben,” the Queen said. A hissing came from the Unseelie Court. A large creature stumbled forward, only to be quelled by an iron look from one of the knights.

  Nephamael writhed still, his fingers scrabbling at his neck and chest. He seemed completely unaware of the arrival of his mistress.

  Roiben looked at the Seelie Queen, and his eyes closed with an exhalation of breath that was so evocative of relief, Kaye felt herself fill with dread. There was something wrong with all this.

  Around the neck of the Seelie Queen, a white pendant swung on a silver chain. Kaye stared at it as though it could hypnotize her. The Queen’s eyes were on the dais, watching the self-made King of the Unseelie Court squirm.

  “Nephamael was serving you!” The revelation was so shocking that she spoke it aloud before she had thought it all through. She dropped down to stand beside Roiben.

  It seemed as though everything stopped with those words. Even the Queen froze.

  Kaye stumbled on, looking at Roiben, willing him to believe. “Roiben, you had to serve Nicnevin and Nephamael had to serve the Seelie Queen. You had to. He couldn’t disobey any more than you could.”

  The Queen made a gentle smile. “The pixie is correct after a fashion. If I had commanded him to stay by my side for all time, he could not have left it. But I had given no such command. Once gone, he could no longer hear my commands and so, did not heed them. I come here today to put things to rights.”

  The words seemed so reasonable, spoken by those lips. Kaye wanted to be mistaken, but the amulet still swung heavily around the Queen’s neck.

  “But I saw the amulet. Nephamael was holding it when he glamoured me to look human. He seemed to be drawing his power from it.”

  “You are mistaken, pixie, and you will be silent. There are more pressing matters at hand.” The Seelie Queen’s voice was firm, and several of her knights moved toward Kaye.

  “Kaye . . . ,” Roiben said, shaking his head. “The amulet is hers. It has always been so.”

  Kaye turned to him, eyes flashing. “I’m not wrong!”

  The crowd murmured at that. Kaye was not sure what outcome the Unseelie Court would be most pleased with; probably the one with the greatest bloodshed. She could not doubt that they were at least glad someone was insulting the Seelie Queen.

  Roiben held up his hand. “I will hear her.” His pronouncement brought some measure of silence to the court. Kaye marveled at that. He was leaning against the throne with blood streaking his clothes, unarmed, and yet he still commanded enough respect that the crowd quieted for him.

  He nodded to Kaye. “Speak.”

  She took a deep breath and when she spoke, she made sure that it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “I guess it’s pretty obvious now that I’m a pixie, but I’ve been disguised as a human for . . . well . . . for sixteen years. I managed to find the human girl that I was switched with. She was still in Silarial’s court.” Roiben gave Kaye a sharp look, but she hurried on.

  “So that means someone in the Seelie Court switched me, even though I was living in Unseelie territory very close to Nicnevin’s court. When I was a little girl, I had three faeries that watched over me. They wer
e also from the Seelie Court.

  “I moved to Philadelphia where I lived for a couple of years until he”—Kaye pointed to Nephamael—“showed up at one of my mother’s shows. He took the guy we were living with aside, and a couple of minutes later, the guy tried to kill my mom. The next day we moved back here. A couple of days after that, my old faerie friends contacted me and said they needed me to play along with their plan.

  “But they weren’t powerful enough to suggest me to Nicnevin for the Tithe. Nephamael was. He was the one in charge. So how did Nephamael wind up in the middle of a Seelie plot? Because she ordered him. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. The only reason he benefited was because Roiben stepped in. If Nicnevin hadn’t died, Nephamael wouldn’t have benefited at all, only Silarial. Even as things stood with him being King, she would have ruled the Unseelie Court through him.”

  “I will hear no more!” the Seelie Queen announced.

  “You will,” Roiben said, his voice rising with impatience and then falling once more. “You are ageless, Silarial, so bide with us a time. I would hear the rest of her tale.”

  Kaye spoke quickly, words rushing together as she tried to get it all out. “The amulet around her neck. That’s what made me realize what was going on. Nephamael had it the night he brought me to be sacrificed. He used it to put a heavy glamour on me. It was her necklace, her glamour. They were going to let me be sacrificed, then reveal the trick and blame Nicnevin. And today, when we got here, Nephamael was waiting for us, but no one knew we were coming to find Corny but Silarial and her court.” At the mention of Corny’s name, Kaye couldn’t keep her gaze from flickering toward Corny. What she saw froze her tongue.

  He had crept forward to where Nephamael’s body writhed. A lock of hair had fallen across his face. There was a bruise on his cheek the color of his grape-stained mouth. That reminded Kaye entirely too much of Janet’s cold lips.

  As though he could feel the heat of her stare, Corny looked up. His eyes were anguished.