THE QUEEN HAD elected to appear in the form of a woman crowned not with hair, but an enormous scarlet bud blossoming out of her head. The bud expanded and contracted with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. From its core, cradled by fleshy petals, shone a light from which Muna hastily averted her eyes.
“There!” said Sakti, with sour triumph. “Did not I say she would pursue you? You ought to have listened when I told you to come away with me. Now it is too late!”
Muna shook her head, gripped with horror. “She would have found me wherever we went. I called her.”
“You called her? What can have possessed you to do that?”
“I thought you were dead!” protested Muna. “I thought if I summoned my sister, either you would be restored to me, or—or the Queen would come, and I could at least seek to avenge you. I thought you might like to be avenged.”
Sakti was still angry, but her expression softened. “You were prepared to challenge the Queen of the Djinns for my sake? Truly?”
“Adik,” said Muna wearily, “when have I ever lied to you?”
Before Sakti could answer, the Queen’s voice boomed out:
“There she is!”
The Queen was gazing directly at them. She was not alone, for by her side was a spirit rigged out in extravagant European style. Lace ruffles cascaded from his throat, jewels gleamed on the enormous buckles of his shoes, and atop his monstrous wig was perched a crown.
“The King of the Djinns!” whispered Sakti.
“But there are far too many souls about,” said the Queen, frowning. “It is most distracting! Would you be so good as to silence them, my love?”
The King flicked his fingers. All noise was abruptly muffled, the guests freezing in place. Muna looked into the face of a nearby Englishman and saw the light from the Queen’s head reflected in his dazed eyes. He was enchanted.
“You have taken the Virtu into yourself, I see,” said the Queen. Her eyes on Muna were glittering. Potent magic wafted from her. “You should count yourself fortunate I have found you. The Virtu would have poisoned your blood in time. Its magic is far too rich a brew for any mortal to sup.”
Muna knew she should run or perform some magic to defend herself and Sakti. But she was fixed in place, all her limbs trembling, for the Serpent had chosen this most inconvenient of times suddenly to rear its head.
Saktimuna’s memories flooded her—painful memories, of the time when her heart had been torn from her and she had been banished to the mortal realm. It had been agonising to be deprived of the best part of her soul and magic. But worse than that had been the betrayal—for Saktimuna had loved her sister.
“I ought to have made certain of the Virtu long ago,” said the Queen. “Only foolish sentiment held me back. But I shall not make that mistake again. First I shall consume you and the Virtu—and then all of England will know my vengeance!”
Do something! said Muna to herself, but even as the Queen bore down upon them, she was powerless to speak or move, overwhelmed by the Serpent’s ancient grief. She shut her eyes.
The Serpent had been defeated once before. She would be defeated again. She, Muna, would die, and so would Sakti, and so would everyone else she knew and loved . . .
A warm hand stole into hers.
“Stupid woman,” said Sakti into Muna’s ear. “Can you believe she has not realised what we are? If you strike now, kak, you will take her by surprise. Do not be afraid!”
Courage flowed into Muna through the hand in hers. She opened her eyes. The Queen was nearly upon them, but Sakti’s words had broken Muna’s paralysis. Now she was able to reach inside herself, drawing upon the glowing core of Saktimuna’s magic inside her.
The magic came awkwardly to her hand. It had been an age since she had last been mistress of such power—she was no longer accustomed to it. But as Muna gathered it up she began to remember what it was to be the Great Serpent.
The words of a long-forgotten spell rose to her lips. Searing light sprang from her hand and she hurled it at the Queen, knocking the fairy off her feet.
“My soul!” cried the Queen’s consort, leaping to her side.
The enthralled guests stirred as their trance broke. The Englishman by Muna came awake all at once, stood blinking for a moment, then bolted for the doors.
“Let us go, kak,” said Sakti.
But Muna shook her head. “I have only stunned her for a moment.” The King was lifting the Queen from the floor. The Queen’s power was not quenched, only dimmed, and shortly she would wake, angrier than ever. “Go now, adik. Save yourself.”
“And what will you do?” demanded Sakti.
Muna could not see Henrietta in the crowd. Perhaps Henrietta had fled, though it was her own house. That would be best, but Henrietta was not the only mortal who would be defenceless against the Queen of the Djinns.
“Perhaps I can draw the Queen away when she wakes,” said Muna. “I cannot leave her to vent her rage upon these people.”
“Englishmen and women!” Sakti looked around. As the guests emerged from their ensorcellment, they hurried out of the room, jostling Muna and Sakti in their haste to be gone. “I do not see them lingering in danger for your sake. You don’t think you will be able to defeat the Queen, do you?”
“Not as I am,” said Muna. “But it was my spell that called her here. I must see this out.”
“You mean you will submit yourself to being devoured,” said Sakti, “so she will have the Virtu at last, and her powers will be increased tenfold! Your English friends would not survive for long then. She is already incensed against them, and will blame them for having helped us. I beg you will not make a martyr of yourself, kak. You must see it will do no good!”
It was true, and Muna’s course lay clear before her. A part of her had known what must be all along, but she had resisted it, dreading the prospect, for she had hoped only to sacrifice herself. Even now, with no alternative open to her, she could only bring herself to speak with difficulty:
“Then there is only one thing to be done, if we are to overcome the Queen.”
“Oh yes?” Sakti’s lip was already curled, mockery on the tip of her tongue.
“If we were reunited . . .” said Muna. “If we were Saktimuna again . . .”
The mockery faded from Sakti’s face. She was silent for a time.
“Could it be done?” she said.
With the insight lent her by the Serpent’s magic, Muna could see how it would be done. It would be a simple matter, joining two pieces that had been broken apart. “Yes.”
Sakti looked as serious as Muna had ever seen her. “If we do it, there would be no you or me any longer. Only her.”
Muna felt a pang of pity. She had had more time to grow accustomed to the idea, so that it distressed her less. She ought to have faced up to it before, instead of springing it on Sakti now.
“I think she will be a great deal like you,” she said, to reassure Sakti. “The polong said you were the magical part. I am only the material, and spirits are mostly magic.”
Sakti frowned. “If that is true, there will be no you!”
“I don’t mind it,” lied Muna.
“I would!”
The guests had made it plain they found Muna and Sakti very much in the way of their escape, though being preoccupied they did not do more than brush against them pointedly. When Muna felt a hand on her elbow, she ignored it, till a familiar voice whispered:
“Muna, you must go!”
Muna jumped. Henrietta said urgently, “The Queen is stirring even now. She will be furious when she realises you are still here. Take your sister and flee!”
Across the ballroom the Queen was blinking in the King’s arms, a faint light starting to filter from her head.
“You should flee,” said Muna to Henrietta. “There is no need for you to be concerned on my behalf. I have the Virtu. What could the Queen do to me?”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Henrietta passionately. “Recall that Saktimuna had her heart when the Queen cast her out of Fairy!”
“Hear her!” said Sakti.
Muna touched Henrietta on the shoulder, meaning to send her away. But to her surprise her magic encountered resistance.
“This is my house,” said Henrietta. “You cannot think I will abandon it!”
Still, Henrietta could not fend off the Serpent’s magic for long. Given another minute Muna’s spell would have caught, but they were not spared another minute. The Queen rose, shaking off her consort impatiently.
“Go, go!” said Muna, shoving Henrietta, but the Queen came towards them, snarling imprecations in Elfish. Henrietta was closest to her and the Queen reached out to seize her—but before the Queen could touch her, a ball of flame exploded beneath her hands.
The Queen fell back with a cry. Mr. Stapleton stepped between her and Henrietta, lowering his wand.
“I regret I must ask you to leave, madam,” he said. He was wholly pale, his wand trembling in his hand, but his voice was steady. “You are incommoding the other guests.”
He turned to his daughter. “Run along, Henny. Look for your mother and sisters.”
“Papa—”
“You will not contradict my orders now,” said Mr. Stapleton, raising his voice. “You are the only one who has magic, and I depend upon you to protect the family. You may set me at defiance at any other time, Henrietta—but on this one occasion you will do your duty, if you please!”
Henrietta’s eyes filled with tears. She made an abortive move towards him, but then she choked out, “Yes!” Drawing her sleeve across her eyes, she darted off.
The Queen glared down at Mr. Stapleton in much the same manner as she might have looked down upon an insect that had dared to cheek her. “Who are you?”
Mr. Stapleton squared his shoulders, raising his wand. “I am the master of this house, and while I live you shall do no harm to anybody under this roof!”
“That is not to say much,” said the Queen carelessly. “Mortals live for hardly any time at all.”
Muna was glad Henrietta had obeyed her father, for it meant she was saved the sight of what happened next. The Queen waved her hand as though she were dusting away a mite, and Mr. Stapleton went flying. He hit the wall and slid down to the floor, where he lay unmoving.
When the Queen turned back to Muna and Sakti, there was a new sharpness in her gaze. An unpleasant smile spread across her face.
“I must have been blind, or distracted,” she said. “I thought you were a mortal who had stolen the Virtu. But I see I was mistaken. I did not think to find you here, sister! It has all fallen out very well, I declare. I shall finish what I left undone all those years ago!”
Muna ignored her, meeting Sakti’s eyes.
“Not against your will,” said Muna.
Sakti looked grim. “It is not as though we have a choice. Will it hurt?”
“No,” said Muna. The Serpent stirred within her, eager. “Give me your hands.”
Sakti’s palms were damp with perspiration, for she was afraid. Muna smiled at her for the last time, until Sakti gave her a tentative smile back.
To mend the break was simple, as natural as water flowing downhill, or a sapling reaching towards the sun. It hardly felt like magic at all. Muna drew Sakti towards herself and they ran together like drops of rain on a pane of glass.
HENRIETTA opened the door to the nursery, confronting a red-faced fury waving a chair.
“Stay back!” it cried.
“Amelia,” said Henrietta, “is my mother here? And my sisters?”
Amelia paused with the chair held aloft. Then she dropped it and flung herself on Henrietta’s neck. Mrs. Stapleton, Louisa and Charlotte crowded around, scolding and questioning.
Henrietta had arrived at the scene of a lively disagreement. The first thing Amelia said when she could make herself understood through her tears was:
“Tell my mother she is not to go downstairs, Henny!”
“Oh, certainly!” said Henrietta, disentangling herself from her sister’s embrace.
At the sight of everyone’s tearful faces, she put aside her anxiety about her father and Muna. It was clear that a calm head was needed. “It is your duty to stay here with the girls, Mamma. There can be no question of your exposing yourself to danger.”
Mrs. Stapleton protested, “But your poor father . . .”
“You need not fear for my father. I shall join him again directly, now that I know you are safe.” Henrietta glanced back at the door. It was a good sturdy barrier, with wards woven into the very grain of the wood, that would repel even a fairy that sought to enter.
“I shall strengthen the wards,” she decided, “and you must not let anyone in. Papa or I will come and let you out when it is all over.”
“You don’t mean to go down again?” shrieked Mrs. Stapleton. Her intention to share in her husband’s fate was forgotten. She seized Henrietta’s sleeve, insisting that Henrietta should remain in the nursery.
“But I am the only other Stapleton that has any magic,” Henrietta said. “You will not let Papa stand against the Fairy Queen by himself?”
“What of the other gentlemen? I am sure we invited two dozen thaumaturges, at least!”
“They have run away. Papa is all alone.”
“Mr. Hobday as well?” Mrs. Stapleton faltered out.
The last Henrietta had seen of her betrothed that evening had been his retreating back. “Mr. Hobday has taken his leave as well.”
This could not but sway Henrietta’s mother. Still she continued her remonstrances, though it was unclear whether these were intended for Henrietta, or for an uncaring Fate. “But your Papa is a gentleman and a thaumaturge, and you are so young! I do not doubt you are very clever, Henny, but you are not the Sorceress Royal. A year or two at her Academy is not the same as having two familiars. Besides, Mrs. Wythe is an orphan, who need only account for herself. You have your family to think of!”
Henrietta froze. But this was not to be the last of the surprises reserved for her.
Charlotte said, wide-eyed, “Mamma! Did you know Henny has been teaching at the Sorceress Royal’s Academy?”
“It is one thing to teach, but quite another to meet the Fairy Queen in battle,” said Mrs. Stapleton. “I should never have allowed you to remain at the Academy if I knew this was to be the end of it!”
“Mamma, you knew . . . ?” gasped Henrietta. She turned to her sisters. Guilt was written across all three of their faces. “You all knew!”
“A mother that does not know what is in her child’s heart without being told is not worthy of the name,” said Mrs. Stapleton. Despite her distress, being able finally to speak of Henrietta’s secret life was plainly a relief to Mrs. Stapleton. With the air of one unburdening herself, she went on, “And that creature you conjured to take your place, Henny—I don’t say she was disagreeable, for she was civil and obliging enough, but her understanding was not equal to yours! We could not be deceived for long.”
“You mean my simulacrum,” said Henrietta, feeling foolish. She had thought it such a clever shift!
“Not Henrietta is not in the least like you,” agreed Louisa. “I wish you would dispense with her. I am sure we could manage without.”
“If you knew all along, why did not you say anything?” said Henrietta helplessly.
“I said we should,” said Charlotte. “But Amelia and Louisa would not allow it!”
“I have always believed a mother should not force confidences from her children,” said Mrs. Stapleton.
“You meant it to be a secret,” said Amelia with unwonted shyness. “We thought if you wished us to know, you would have told us. We hoped in time you would trust us with the truth.”
“I never mistrusted you,” said Henrietta, but there seemed to be something stuck in her throat, and her voice emerged faint and wavering. She swallowed. “It is only that . . . I thought you would mind my being a magicienne.”
“But you have always been magical,” said Charlotte, a little puzzled.
“You are our own Henny,” said Mrs. Stapleton. “How could we mind anything that you were?” She caught Henrietta’s hands in her own. “We shall tell each other all that is in our hearts, and forgive each other for the secrets we have kept!”
“Yes.” But even as Henrietta kissed her mother, she freed her hands from Mrs. Stapleton’s clasp. “So we shall—another time, Mamma.”
“Henny, I forbid you to go!”
“I must, Mamma.”
Mrs. Stapleton made a final attempt. “Your father would wish you to remain!”
“Then this is the last time I shall disobey his wishes, or yours,” said Henrietta. She wiped the tears from her eyes and left, barring the door behind her.