“In most cases, it spreads through the body like a poison until it reaches the heart and kills its victim.”
A wave of horror washed over me. “Inmostcases?”
“Some victims have survived, but they quickly turn…malevolent, violent and uncontrollable.”
“Unseelie,” said Devil, who was now standing behind me. “They could not even recognize their own families, and attacked anyone who crossed their path, human or fay or anything in between. They became…monsters.”
Alarmed, I moved away from the infected tree. “Where did it come from?”
“To explain properly,” Oberon said, “I must tell you a story. Please, sit.” Shadowy tendrils poured from his hands, sinking into the tree behind me. The rootssuddenly became animated, pulling themselves from the earth and twisting into a low chair. When it was finished, Oberon pulled his shadows back. Careful not to catch my gown, I turned and sat, running my fingers over the low back and arms of the seat, marveling at the magyk I’d just witnessed. Oberon cleared his throat, and I gave him my attention while Devil crouched in a patch of roots beside me, not bothering to fashion any sort of seat for himself.
“This story begins hundreds of years ago, when the young faerie queen of the Arden took a husband from the neighboring Pallasian Court.” Oberon nodded to Devil, who released two streams of golden light from his hands. On the forest floor at my feet, they twisted themselves into two faceless figures, just has they had done earlier when he was describing the fay pantheon of gods to me. As Oberon continued to speak, the glowing puppets acted out his tale. “Terribly in love, they lived happily together for hundreds of years, sharing the gifts of the Huntress with their citizens. Eventually, they decided…to have a child.”
Oberon had turned his back to us, and the two golden figures before me became locked in a passionate kiss. I glared at Devil, who winked and twitched his fingers. The light puppets began removing their clothes and I rolled my eyes, turning back to the faerie king.
“The Huntress granted their prayer,” he continued, still facing away, “and gave them a daughter: Lyric. She was…she waseverything. The embodiment of the Arden itself—light and dark all at once, gifted by the Huntress with power the likes of which had never been seen before, but also with a gentle and passionate heart. She was treasured, adored…belovedbeyond anything you could possibly imagine.” He stopped, voice cracking, and I looked down at Devil’s light puppets. There were three figures now: a man and a woman, holding a small baby between them.
Before my eyes, while Oberon composed himself, the child grew. She walked, and played, and ran. She grew a pair of beautiful, delicate dragonfly wings that trailed on the ground behind her, like a cape of stained glass. She became taller and stronger, commanding light and shadows in equal measure, commanding the forest itself, and helping her people. In every scene, she helped—cared for children, washed clothes, repaired a broken tool, instructed a group of other young fay in a dance, cooked over an open fire, and sang while a familiar figure sat beside her, playing the lute.
“Aliena…” I whispered, and Devil nodded sadly. Oberon turned back to face us, his cheeks wet with tears. I swore I felt my heart crack open, because I was almost certain where the story was going to end.
“Several years before the start of your human war,” Oberon pressed on, “Lyric happened across a human hunter from Nottingham—a handsome and charming young man, who became instantly enamored of her. What her parents didnotexpect was for her to love him in return, but they would never have denied her anything. So, they allowed him to return as often as he could to see her. He was so devoted and so steadfast that the faerie king and queen gave permission for them to be married here in the Arden, in the sight of the Huntress.”
The light puppets now showed an adult Lyric holding hands with a tall, faceless man as they recited vows, then she leapt into his arms and he kissed her deeply. Devil seemed just as entranced by the performance as I was, but his eyes were unfocused and his face distant as he continued weaving the strands of shimmering gold.
“The war…” I muttered. “Did he die?”
Oberon closed his eyes for a moment, then took a shuddering breath and spoke again. “One day, Lyric’s husband returned from Nottingham and told her that the Prince to whom he had pledged his service, Rykard, was going to war. Against his own brother, no less. Lyric begged him to remain in the Arden with her, safe and secure, but he claimed that he owed his Prince a life debt. As a man of honor, he had to pay it. In her grief and love…Lyric chose to leave the Arden with him. Her mother tried to stop her, but her father, romantic old fool that he was, allowed it to happen. He had left his own home and family for love, after all, and was confident that Lyric’s power would protect her beyond the forest’s borders. Neither of them truly understood what Lyricwas, though. At least, not until it was too late.
“Her ‘gift’ from the Huntress, her connection to the Arden, was no mere magyk. It was an anchor. Lyric’s existence, her very life force, was tied to that of the forest, and the longer she stayed away, the weaker she became. Even though she returned as often as she could, to visit her loved ones and strengthen herself, in the end, it was not enough, especially after she…fell pregnant.”
I let out a long breath and covered my mouth. Tears stung my eyes as I watched the belly of Lyric’s golden puppet swell. Her husband knelt to kiss it, then supported her when she nearly collapsed. Even as tiny figures made from nothing but light, the love between them was apparent, and heartbreaking.
“Nottingham was under siege,” I murmured, “at the end of the war. I know they closed the gates and would not allow anyone to leave.”
“Lyric’s husband knew that, in order to survive the birth of their child, she would need to be in the Arden,” Oberon explained, pacing on the grass before us. “He had tried to convince her to go back many times already, but she would notbe separated from him. Finally, on the eve of that last battle, he had no choice. She was so weak, she could not resist, and he managed to smuggle her out of the city, into the forest. Her parents found them just as the siege was beginning, and Lyric’s husband asked them to keep her and the baby safe…while he went to battle. They were furious that he would abandon her in such a time of need. He insisted that he had men to protect. So, they tried everything they knew, every sort of magyk, but even their gifts combined were not enough. Lyric was dying, and the child with her. The Huntress decides when we return to her arms, and it was clear that Lyric’s time had come. When the faerie queen, mad with grief, heard that human soldiers had entered the Arden…she mustered her army…and unleashed her fury on those she blamed for her daughter’s impending death.”
“Those men were innocent!” I cried, standing up. “They were Rykard’s soldiers, fleeing for their lives, and shebutcheredthem! I’ve heard the stories. Men split from nose to navel, or hung from the trees by their own entrails. Boys—just teenagers—with faces ripped clean from their skulls! Tuck said they were pulling dismembered bodies from the Channel for weeks afterwards. How could you let her do that?”
“I could not leave my only child to suffer and die alone.”
Oberon’s words were an arrow to my heart. His daughter. Hisonlychild, and only grandchild along with her. He’d been forced to sit by and watch them both fade away, knowing there was nothing he could do, while his wife murdered innocent men in vengeance. I could hardly stand to even imagine that sort of pain, so I fell silent and sat back down.
“My mandate is to protect the children of the Arden above all else,” Oberon murmured, “but I didnotwant those soldiers to die…and certainly not so painfully. Please understand, Marina, that had I been able to stop it…”
“I-I understand,” I whispered. “So…is that why the Rot came? Because of Lyric’s death? Because she was so deeply connected to the Arden?”
Oberon answered with a slow nod. “Yes, that is what I believe. It began shortly after, and the first place it touched was her grove—the sacred place where she was born, where she died, and where I buried her. It is a wound, left open after she was ripped away from us.”
I looked down at Devil. He was watching me with a strange expression, not quite pity, but not anything else either. Bitter despair burst in my chest at the thought of trying to rid the forest of this decades-old affliction. Now, I knew I would surely be trapped here forever, cursed never to pay my debt because I simply lacked the means.
“I still do not see how my measly, bargainedhealing gift can rid you of it,” I said, clenching my fists in my lap. “The power I hold must be insignificant compared to even the least gifted of the Fair Folk. Why did you bring me here?”
Oberon sucked in a deep breath, trying to center himself before looking at me, his dark eyes heavy with melancholy. “The reason I brought you here, Marina, the reason I believeyoumight be able to heal the Arden, is because my Lyric, my beloved daughter…was your mother.”
Chapter nineteen
Family & Little Friends
