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Ro grins broadly as she hops off the table and hovers in front of me, inspecting the marks up close. I see the tiny fangs behind her smile, but they definitely do not scare me now. Pixies are like piranhas, Rev explained on the bus, and can swarm to devour things you’d never expect. However, I am now at the top of her food chain, and she wouldn’t dare.
“Well, you’re not the worst queen I’ve seen; at least your face is still pretty and keen. You’ve got that going—points in your favor. They gave you a look that survives all the chaos and flavor. But listen up close—there’s a twist in the scene, a whisper that’s slipped through the gossip machine. Word on the grapevine, sharp and unseen, your sister’s making a move back home, queen.”
That news is shocking; I had no idea she was so far along in her quests. Time must really be moving oddly here in Faerie, because it feels like so little and so much has passed simultaneously. “Feray and her guys are heading back to Briarvale?”
Rowena nods, her twittery voice serious. “She staged a coup—full-blown, no cap. Doing so got the Luna crown and half the pack. You’ll get the details—don’t worry, don’t stress. I’ve got all the tea and a lot to confess. But first—how the hell did you pull off that feat? Out-magic a tree that can’t be beat? Sentient, ancient, immortal as hell—that isn’t a story the books ever tell. I’m pretty damn sure, by all we’ve been taught…that kind of power is seldom wrought.”
I do not want to give this chick or anyone else who might overhear her squeaking along the road or in Briarvale this information… at least, not yet.
Giving my guys a stern look, I say as little as possible without refusing to answer. “It was a lot of pain and some screaming. Not sure what else matters, Ro.”
The pixie laughs, backing up to head for the food tray. She shoves a handful of grapes from the table into her mouth before she responds. “Goddesses, I missed this—every chaotic scene. No one else comes close to being half as obscene. Well, not obscene… just wildly more fun. The rest of them bore me; you’re second to none. You get the glow-up, all magic and flair, and still find the time for a romp here and there. Living the dream, no stress in your strut, from princess sparkle pants to fae queen pissy pants with bite and a cut.”
I can’t help but smirk at her description of the new me. “Thanks, Ro. Coming from you, that’s…. sweet?”
“You’re welcome, Queen Sparklepissypants,” she says, flipping open her tablet and flicking through something only she can see. “This next part matters—so hear what I say. Hold back the comments just for a hot day. No cutting me off, no snarky display. Let me get through it… then you can slay.”
Her gaze roams around the room, stopping last on Khol. I don’t think he could interrupt if he tried, as he’s back to hungrily stuffing smoked meats in his mouth. I should probably do some of that, so I grab a handful of things myself and plop back in my seat to chew while we wait for the dramatic little shit.
Turning back to me as I gobble down meat and cheese with no care what it actually came from, the pixie produces a battered envelope from inside her lapel. It’s sealed with a black wax paw print, the edges stained with what looks like real dirt and a faint smudge of what could be blood. Our messenger hands it over with a flourish, then sits back and watches my face for a reaction.
I guess this is why she got herself a tablet—I’m lucky the damn thing even made it here intact by the looks of it.
The instant I touch the stuff, the marks on my hand react—a blue spark races from the moon brand and sizzles around the seal, burning it open in a swirl of magic and color. The scent it releases is earthy and sharp, but unmistakable; that’s my sister. I slide the contents out and nearly drop it all in concern.
A drawing hits my hand first—a rough sketch of a diadem that is bone-thin, delicate, and has crescent moons arcing together like the smile of a knife. Feray’s signature is all over the paper—curly, flowery, and girly in a way I never manage to nail. Words are scrawled beneath in her pretty handwriting, the lines looping and curving in equal measure.
“Fi, bring your ass and your boys back home. I’ve got the wolves eating out of my hand, but I’m holding out for the people who need to be taught a lesson. We need to finish off the people who tried to harm us before the next full moon. XOXO, Feray.”
Underneath the words, in true Feray fashion, are doodles of a wolf punching a demon, a stick-figure of Tiernan with exaggerated cat ears, and a smiley face so sickly happy it appears to be vomiting actual joy.
Whew. That’s a lot in just one note and a few sentences, especially after what I’ve been through today.
I glance at Tiernan, whose eyes catch the sketch and immediately slide away, the tips of his ears flushing pink. He mutters something into his glass, but the brief twitch in his tail betrays him. I feel a surge of affection for the nice guy who did his best to make friends with my sister so that I’d let him in. Khol barks a laugh and then grins at me as he hands it to my vampire.
“Your sister’s a goddamn menace, Sassy. Good thing she’s got those dudes to help her rein it in until we get back there.”
“I assume that they are all safe?” Dezi asks the pixie, who nods. “Then we should continue our part of the quests, finish Revelin’s tour, and return to Briarvale when we are able. It will help nothing to end our journey prematurely simply because Faerie time is so different from in the other realm.”
Ro claps, her tiny hands making an actual echo in the room as we glance at her again. “She’s better than safe—she’s winning the strife, not just getting by, she’s owning her life. You can stay easy, no trouble in sight, for there is no chaos incoming, no need for a fight. My prince should bring honor to kin and to court with songs that unite. By the end, when the truth comes through, they’ll all see you solved it—like magical Scooby-Doo.”
I read the note again, but all I can see is the pressure hiding in the loops of Fer’s handwriting. My gut turns over, but the new power in my veins hums, the marks on my skin coming alive. I can’t leave until I complete the feystag’s missions, and Rev has to keep things in check between the courts. The sudden appearance of a rival heir in Midnight will force the royals to put a lid on anything negative about our time here, but the Harvest folks weren’t thrilled. We have to ‘wow’ Reaping or it could make the atmosphere in this realm even more sketchy.
My sister will have to lean on her mates and wait for me to come back when I am ready to do so.
“How do I respond to her?” I ask, but Ro’s already flipping out a second envelope, this one thick and lined with what looks like a hand-drawn map on the back.
“I also have a letter your vampire son sent through. He’s all frills and drama—very on brand, you two. He passed it along when I checked out your homes, made sure everything’s ready—no dust, no unknowns. I went through it all to prepare for your return. Every corner inspected, each candle prepared to burn. Though that might’ve been pointless, now that I see, you’ve decided to stay in Faerie.”
Ro waggles the envelope at Dezi, who catches it out of the air like a knife thrower.
Just fantastic… yet another person to whine about how overwhelmed they are being in charge.
Thirty-Three
KHOL
The glass in this place is the old kind—wavy, seamed with bubbles, nothing like the airless, perfect sheets you see in human skyscrapers. It makes the gardens below look like something out of a fever dream. Moonlight pools over the labyrinth hedges, giving everything the bruised tint of an old photograph—though the reality of that place is much more sinister. I stand with my forehead near the cold pane, arms crossed as I let the fresh air sting the dressed cut on my shoulder as I wait for the next problem to crawl out of the woodwork.
