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WYN BLINKED. “I’M SORRY?”
“You heard me,” Hallie mumbled. “Turns out that the Spring Court can resurrect creatures.”
Hallie could practically read every thought that passed across Wyn’s face in those moments. She’d had many of the same. But one thought, of course, prevailed.
They had a chance to bring Kat back from the afterlife. To be whole again.
“Hallie,” Wyn finally said slowly, “this is...”
“I know.”
“But...there’s always a cost. Have you stopped to wonder why the Spring Court doesn’t share this knowledge with anyone?”
Hallie felt herself harden, and suddenly the demesne felt cold. She wrapped her arms around herself. “What else could it be but greed?”
Wyn sighed again. “If they haven’t shared, there may be a good reason. Maybe it would be better to just give up your discovery. Let us all move on. Let Kat rest.”
Hallie glared. “How could you?” And without waiting for a reply, she jumped up and bolted for the door.
“Hallie!” Wyn called, but Hallie didn’t stop, didn’t even turn.
The mists clawed at her as she passed between the trees, then she was out, back into the alien forest, her bare feet on the cold, hard dirt of the path. She swung her head back and forth, but no one else seemed to be nearby. She turned away from the direction they had come, away from the court of creatures where she made her second bargain, and sprinted away. She needed to be alone.
After her breath grew short and her thighs began burning, she slowed to a walk, panting. The path was still empty, and she glanced down at her pajamas, grateful for the emptiness. Grateful there was no one to see her so vulnerable.
She took a few steps to the side, letting her bare toes sink into the cold, wet moss lining the base of the trees, and crouched down, finally letting tears come. The suffocating pressure in her chest built until it exploded out of her in keening wails.
Kat. This was all for Kat. Wyn was also her best friend, but Kat was the first: the first one to talk to her when she went to school, the first one to be her friend. Nothing could ever replace that.
And if she failed here, Kat was gone forever. How could she just let that go?
Eventually the pressure subsided as she released the pain in waves of tears. It was still there, clawing deep into her chest as if covered in thorns, but she could almost breathe again. She let herself collapse against the trunk of the tree, the tears flowing silently now.
She should probably find Wyn. Apologize? Explain? Something.
Hallie pushed herself to her feet and took the first few steps back onto the dark earth of the path. Mist swirled around her feet, carrying something else with it. Faint music and the scent of...books?
Hallie turned toward the smell, toward the music, and stepped toward the tree line. Small steps made of tree roots led between two trunks heavily veiled in mist. Perhaps there was another demesne here. As she passed through the layer of fog between the trees, the eeriness of the forest faded and the music rose in a crescendo...along with some voices. But the mist grew thicker until she could barely move forward, though she could still step back, and she stood still, listening.
“Another bargain, though? You haven’t even collected on the first one,” came the first voice, sweet and low. “And frankly, no other outcome is permissible. Can you imagine what would happen if everyone knew about this? The Court would collapse.”
And then the boy’s voice answered, and her steps faltered. She hugged herself closer.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “One way or another, no one will learn about it. But perhaps if she understands why, she will give up this ridiculous venture.”
“But how did she learn it in the first place?”
The music stopped, and Hallie’s heart skipped a beat.
“You may as well enter,” he said, raising his voice. “We can hear you breathing.”
She caught her breath, only now noticing how loud it sounded in the still air of the passage. They were Fae; of course they could hear her lurking out here.
Hesitantly, she took the few remaining steps into the demesne, no longer held back by the thick mists.
The light grew as soon as she crossed the threshold, sunlight streaming down into a library of sorts. Crooked shelves made of tree branches rose up around the edges of the room, surrounding a round table edged in bark, as if it had been cut directly from a tree. The boy sat in an armchair, a violin cradled against his neck, and a young, too-beautiful woman stood next to him, her arms crossed and her glaring eyes on Hallie.
“Did you need something?” the boy said too sweetly, like a coffee with too much sugar that turns the stomach.
Hallie’s heart was pounding, and she looked down at her bare feet. She could certainly use some clothes, but she clenched her teeth together rather than say she hadn’t gotten a chance to put on a bra before being dragged into whatever Court this was.
The woman spoke. “Are those pajamas?”
Hallie closed her eyes in relief and nodded.
“Vesque, would you get her some proper attire?” the boy said. He stood, tucking the violin under his arm, and strode toward the exit. “She may be here a while.”
Hallie’s stomach flipped at the comment, but she couldn’t find words to respond.
Vesque nodded. “At once, sir.”
Sir. Hallie’s first clue.
***
“HERE, TRY THIS,” VESQUE said, pulling a gauzy dress from the tree branch that served as her closet.
Vesque had brought her to her own demesne, since Hallie was so close to her size, and promised to set up an appointment with the Court seamstress for the next day. The boy’s words about her being here a while bounced around her head, and she wondered if they were simply building her wardrobe for when she failed the challenge.
Hallie held the gossamer gown up to herself, its rosy color glowing in the soft sunlight through the tree canopy above. It looked like it would fit, and it had enough structure that she’d be comfortable walking around and interacting with the Fae here.
For the week. Not her life.
Vesque turned to a dresser and began rooting through drawers. “Well, go on. I haven’t got all day.”
“Now?” Hallie said, feeling her face flaming.
“Yes. Please.” Vesque sighed. “Humans. It’s not like I’m watching you change.”
Her face still hot, Hallie quickly stripped out of her pajamas and pulled on the dress. The fabric was different than anything she’d felt before, cooler than silk and smoother than the softest cotton. It settled against her skin, conforming to her curves like a hug.
“It fits,” she proclaimed.
Vesque turned back to her, holding out a hairbrush and a mirror. Hesitantly, Hallie took the brush and ran it through her tangled locks.
The silver dye vanished beneath the brush’s strokes, revealing her natural dark brown hair, and she nearly dropped the brush.
Vesque smiled smugly. “I knew it. Few humans have hair the color of spider’s silk.”
Hallie examined the brush. “What did it do?”
Vesque shrugged. “It’s a simple spell. It undoes magic. Good for the end of a long party when you’re too tired to undo all the magic holding your look together.”
She held out her hand, and Hallie deposited the brush in her palm.
“Hair dye isn’t magic.”
Vesque shrugged. “Close enough. Human illusion magic, and it breaks illusion.”
Hallie found herself nodding, even though she wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Somehow, the loss of the silver hair she’d had for three years made her feel more vulnerable than her pajamas.
“So what do you do here?” Hallie ventured, pushing past the discomfort. Maybe she could at least get another hint while she had one of the Fae’s full attention.
Vesque ran the brush through her own dark hair, and it began shifting from deep blue-black to the light gold of a springtime sun. “Advisor to the royal family.”
Wow. Way up there on the ladder, then. But Hallie couldn’t just ask who the boy was. She had to be more subtle. Even if Wyn did always tell her she was about as subtle as a hammer.
“So, the Fae I made the bargain with...” Hallie began.
Vesque’s eyes grew hooded. “Yes?”
“You work for him?”
“Nice try.”
Hallie narrowed her eyes at Vesque, biting her lip in thought. The woman had closed like a book, but not before adding more to her meager list of clues. It was a small triumph, but a triumph nonetheless.
The boy was a sir. And the royal family’s advisor tended to him.
He had to be a royal.
