CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE FERRY

“Prince.”

I groaned.

“Prince.” Something patted my chin. “Wake up.”

Shifting on the mattress, I struggled to open my eyes. There was a solid weight sitting on my chest, but exhaustion was making my lids heavy and awkward. I was tired; I wanted to sink back into oblivion, despite the disturbing dreams that waited for me.

“Hmm. For such a well-trained, somewhat paranoid warrior, you are certainly difficult to rouse. Very well.” The weight on my chest slid off, much to my relief, and I heard a thump as it dropped to the floor and walked away. “We shall have to resort to more drastic measures.”

Just as I was wondering what “drastic measures” were, a patter of footsteps scampered toward the bed. There was a brief pause…and then that solid, heavy weight landed square on my stomach.

“Oof!” I bolted upright with a gasp, the breath driven from my lungs in a painful, vicious expulsion. Instantly awake, I clutched my ribs and glared at Grimalkin, sitting on the bed with a smug, pleased expression on his face.

“All right,” I gritted out, breathing slowly to dispel the nausea, “you have my attention. What do you want, cat?”

“Ah,” he purred, as if nothing had happened. “There you are. I was beginning to think you had died in your sleep.” He stood, waving his tail. “We have trouble. The boat is here, and I cannot wake anyone up.”

“Boat?”

The cat rolled his eyes. “Yes. Boat. The ferry that you are so eager to take to the End of the World? Did you accidentally hit your head before I woke you?” He peered at me, suddenly serious. “There is something strange going on, prince,” he muttered. “I cannot wake any of the others, and it is not like you to forget something this important. How do you feel?”

I thought the strangest occurrence was Grimalkin asking about my health, but after a moment I frowned. “Tired,” I admitted. “Almost drained.”

Grimalkin nodded. “I thought as much. Something about this place is siphoning your strength, your glamour, even your memories.” He blinked and shook himself. “Even I am finding it hard to keep my eyes open. Come.” Turning suddenly, he leaped off the bed. “We must wake the others. If we do not make it to the ferry in time, it will leave, and you will be stuck here forever.”

I stood, frowning as the room spun around me. Rubbing my eyes, I started to follow Grimalkin, but a faint noise outside the window made me pause. Bracing myself against the wall, I looked through the glass and drew in a slow breath.

The inn was surrounded by Forgotten. Hollow-eyed, faded and famished looking, they crowded the muddy road, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at me with slack, open mouths. How long had they stood there, sucking away our glamour, our memories? How long before we became like them, empty and hollow, black holes drawing in every little bit of life?

I stumbled back from the window and into the hall, where Grimalkin waited for me, lashing his tail.

“Hurry,” he hissed, and trotted into the next room. I shook the cobwebs out of my head and followed.

A girl lay on the bed, shifting and moaning as if in the throes of a nightmare, her long silver hair spread over the pillow. For one heart-stopping moment, I couldn’t remember her name, though I knew she was important to me. The sudden worry and protectiveness I felt when I saw her proved it was true.

“Go to her,” Grimalkin said, backing away. “Wake her up. I will attempt to rouse Goodfellow once more. Perhaps he will waken if claws are applied in a strategically important area. Then you can all tackle the dog. I will certainly not partake in that endeavor.” He wrinkled his nose and padded from the room.

I knelt down beside the bed. “Ari,” I muttered, grabbing the delicate shoulders and shaking them gently. “Wake up. We have to go, now.”

Ariella flinched away from me, raising her hands in sleep as if to reach out for someone. “No, Ash…no,” she whispered. “Don’t…please, no.”

“Ari!” I shook harder, jostling her thin frame, but she only whimpered and sank deeper into sleep. Finally, I gathered her to me, lifting her in my arms. She was so light, like twigs held together by wispy cloth. Clutching her to my chest, I stumbled from the room.

Grimalkin met me at the door, followed by a yawning Puck scratching the back of his head. He gave me a sleepy nod as we passed. Together, we ventured into the last room down the hall, where the huge form of the Wolf was curled in a corner, his rumbling snores vibrating the walls.

“Okay,” Puck said, leaning against the doorframe, looking like he was fighting to stay on his feet, “I agree that we have to get out of here now, but…who wants to wake up the puppy?”

I nodded toward a corner. “There’s a broom. I have Ariella—I think you should take care of the Wolf.”

“Hmm, that’s okay, ice-boy. I’m kinda partial to not having my head bitten off.”

“Goodfellow!” Grimalkin spat, right before he disappeared, “Above you!”

I spun, still holding Ariella, as a Forgotten dropped from the ceiling—the innkeeper from before, only now her eyes were blank and glassy, her mouth an open hole as she lurched toward Puck.

The Wolf’s eyes snapped open. Without warning, he sprang to his feet with a roar and lunged through the doorway, massive jaws clamping over the Forgotten’s spindly frame. The faery wailed and dissolved like mist in the breeze, and the Wolf shook his head, turning back to glare at us.

“It’s impossible to sleep with the pair of you around,” he growled, baring his teeth. “Now, are we leaving, or are you two going to stand there barking at each other all night?”

Forgotten were beginning to drift up the stairs like zombies, faces slack and mouths open. Puck and the Wolf met them side by side, teeth and daggers flashing in the dim light, cutting a path to the exit. Ariella sighed and murmured in my arms, and I held her close, determined that no Forgotten would touch her.

We burst through the door of the inn and stopped, staring at the huge mob of Forgotten surrounding the building. The Forgotten stared back, silent and motionless, mouths gaping like landed fish. The Wolf snarled and lunged forward, snapping at the air, and the Forgotten drew back, offering no resistance. But they were so starved for glamour, for memory and emotion and life, that the Wolf stumbled and nearly fell, his strength siphoned away.

The ground lurched, and I nearly sank to my knees, fighting to stay upright. “Keep moving!” I called, as Puck swiped at several Forgotten that pressed closer, driving them back. “Get to the dock! We have to make it to the ferry!”

The Forgotten parted for us like waves, not resisting, forcing no confrontation, but their hunger was a constant thing, draining our life, making it harder and harder to move. I glanced over at Puck and saw him turning as gray and washed-out as the Forgotten around us, his once-bright red hair dull and colorless. I couldn’t see Grimalkin, and hoped the cat wouldn’t simply fade into nothingness while invisible, which we would never know.

The dock loomed before us, a lifeline in the dark, and on the River of Dreams, I saw the faint edges of a ferryboat through the mist. Puck and the Wolf, staggering and nearly leaning on each other, reached it first, and Puck yelled at me to hurry, before vanishing into the fog.

Just as I reached the dock, something latched on to my arm. I felt a stab of pain, an emptiness so strong it was physical, and went to my knees as the sharp thin man appeared before me, his long fingers grasping my arm.

“I figured it out,” he whispered, as I struggled to make my body move, respond, anything. But I was numb, drained, only barely conscious, as the thin man continued to draw out my life. I felt my glamour slipping away with my strength, sucked into the black hole that was the sharp thin man. Ariella slumped against my chest as my grip failed, and his gaze followed her.

“My, you’re strong,” he continued in an amiable voice. “So much life. Such powerful memories and glamour and emotion. You do not belong here. Not yet. Upset the balance, you have. Even those who are nearly faded have come back, and now they will linger even more. Because of you.”

“Not…yet?” I could barely get the words out. The crowd of Forgotten had gathered again, surrounding us with open mouths, their combined pull so strong I nearly collapsed. The thin man looked at me, surprised.

“You do not know?” He tilted his head, and for a moment, it vanished. “Your essence is unraveling. Bit by bit. Soon, you will be unable to remember your name, your promise, who you are, and you will be consumed with filling the emptiness inside. But it will never be enough. In time, you will find your way to Phaed, to remain here with the Forgotten, and the Promise-breakers.” He nodded, a sharp gesture in the coiling fog. “But not yet.”

“Then…you’ll let us…go?”

“Of course you will go,” the sharp thin man said, as if that was obvious. “You will go, and life will return to normal. Everyone will forget, as is their way. You do not belong. But, her—” his gaze sharpened, staring at Ariella “—she must stay. She is the reason you found this place. No essence. No life. She is empty, like we are. She remains.”

I felt a flare of anger, but it was immediately drained away by the thin man. “No,” I muttered, trying to find the strength to pull back, to resist. “I…need her.”

“She remains,” the thin man whispered again, and reached to take her from me.

No! A fierce protectiveness roared to life, drowning out everything else. She would not be taken away. Not again. I would not fail her again.

With the last of my strength, I lunged to my feet and drew my blade, pressing it to the thin man’s neck.

He seemed surprised that I could still move. “She does not belong with you,” he said, watching calmly as I fought to remain on my feet, keep the blade steady and hold the girl to myself with one arm. “She belongs here, with us.”

“I don’t care,” I told him. “I’m not letting her go.”

A roar shattered the stillness, and the Wolf came bounding out of the fog, scattering Forgotten like wispy birds. Shoving his huge body between myself and the thin man, he bared his fangs at the crowd and snarled. “Get going, prince,” he snapped, as the sharp thin man turned to the side and disappeared. “The boat is already leaving. Go!”

Sheathing my sword, I gathered Ariella in both arms and staggered onto the dock, where Puck met me halfway. “Geez, you love to wait till the last dramatic moment, don’t you, ice-boy?” he muttered as we hurried over the planks. At the end of the dock, a small, faded paddleboat covered in moss and vines was pulling away, easing back into the River of Dreams. Grimalkin sat on the railings, watching us with glowing yellow eyes.

“Hurry!” the cat urged as the boat pulled farther away. “They are coming!”

Behind us, I heard the Wolf’s growls as he backed onto the dock, and felt the emptiness of the Forgotten sucking at me, even from this distance. And then they were crawling onto the dock from beneath the water, reaching for us with ghostly fingers, mouths gaping like dead fish. Puck slashed at one, cutting through it like paper, and it frayed into coils of mist, but there were always more, grasping for us, starved and relentless.

The ferry drew farther away.

Thumping footsteps shook the dock, and I turned to see the Wolf hurl himself out of the fog, bounding toward us. Dozens of Forgotten clung to him, hanging off his back and neck as he snarled and growled and snapped, shaking himself free only to have more take their places. The Forgotten crowding around our feet drew back, slipping away toward the Wolf. I started to go after them, but the Wolf turned, meeting my gaze with his burning green eyes, lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Get going!” he roared, and we went, hurrying after the ferry. Puck reached the edge of the dock first and leaped, flailing his arms as he hit and grabbed the railing to keep from falling off. I was right behind him, flinging myself over the dark waters, Ariella featherlight in my arms. I struck the edge of the boat and rolled, curling my body around the girl to protect her, wincing as the edge of a bench hit me in the back.

I staggered upright, laid Ariella on one of the seats, and hurried to the side of the boat, looking for the Wolf. But the fog had curled around the dock, hiding it from view. I still heard the soft splashes of the Forgotten as they hit the water, and the Wolf, snarling through the mist, but I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Pity,” Grimalkin remarked, sounding as if he almost meant it. “I was nearly used to his smell, too.”

And then the dark form of the Wolf leaped from the blanket of fog, hurtling over the river. He landed next to the ferry with a splash, spraying everyone with water, causing Grimalkin to hiss and flee under the benches. Surfacing, the Wolf lunged out of the water, hooked his huge paws over the railing and pulled himself, dripping and panting, onto the deck.

I winced as he shook himself, sending river water flying, soaking us all once more. Yawning, he ignored Puck’s indignant yell and turned to me, gold-green eyes narrowing.

“That is the second time I saved your lives, prince. Be sure to remember that part of the story when you pass it along.”

He yawned again, showing off enormous canines, and padded toward the aft deck, weaving lightly through the aisles of narrow benches. Curling up near the back, he laid his head on his paws, watching us all before his eyes closed and he appeared to fall asleep.

I shook water out of my clothes and took a deep breath, watching the dock slowly vanish behind us in the fog. The ferry slid noiselessly through the River of Dreams, leaving the town far behind. Already, I had forgotten its name. The people, their voices, everything I’d seen and heard, slipping from memory. I struggled to remember something a thin man had told me, something important. Something about Ariella…and myself…

The ferry abruptly broke from the mist, punching through it like a wall, revealing the vast river before us and the night sky above. I blinked and looked around. Puck was standing at the bow of the boat, gazing over the water, and Ariella was asleep on a bench.

I frowned, feeling like I was missing something. I remembered we had been looking for the ferry, walking along the riverbank searching for it, but the memory of us actually boarding was hazy. Had something been chasing us? I vaguely recalled a dock, and carrying Ariella aboard, but beyond that…nothing. I felt groggy and disoriented, as if I’d just woken up from a dream—

The dream. My stomach turned, and I clutched the railing to remain steady on my feet. I remembered the dream. Killing Mab. Ruling Winter. Waging war. Blood and death and violence, the hollow, ravenous void that threatened to drag me down and swallow me whole.

Fighting the Iron Queen. Dying by her hand.

In a daze, I walked to the bench in front of Ariella and sat down, watching her. After a few minutes, her eyelids flickered, and she opened her eyes, blinking at me looming above her.

“Ash?”

“Was it real?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse and dry in my ears. She frowned and sat up to face me, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“What I saw.” I leaned forward, and she drew back, a wary shadow crossing her face. “That was you, wasn’t it? Showing me the future. Killing Mab. Making myself the Winter King. Going to war with the other courts—” I stumbled to a halt, not wanting to remember beyond that, to see the look on the Iron Queen’s face as she killed me.

Ariella went pale. “You saw…? Oh, Ash. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see…” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “It must have been the hobyah venom. It made you hypersensitive to dreams and dreamwalking. If you were asleep, you probably—”

“Ari.” My voice was soft, and she blinked at me. I raked a hand through my damp hair, fighting to stay calm, to ignore the darkness clawing at my feet, trying to drag me down. “What I saw. Is this…the future? My future? Am…am I destined to become…that? The destroyer of the courts, slaughtering everything, everyone I know?” Ariella was silent, and I reached out to take her hand, squeezing as if it were a lifeline, holding me to sanity. “Tell me,” I said, forcing out the words. “Tell me, is that what I become?”

“I don’t know, Ash.” Her voice was a whisper, on the verge of tears. “It’s a future, one of several. Probably the worst, but not the most unlikely. You…you have so much darkness in you, so much anger and grief. Not even I could reach you if you gave in to despair, if you broke your promise.” She took a deep breath. “Your essence…when it’s gone you’ll forget everything that makes you…you. Most Promise-breakers just fade away, never to be seen again. But a few, especially those who are strong, become something else entirely.”

“This is what will happen,” I whispered, “if I fail.”

Silence for a moment. The ferry glided steadily through the night, the only sounds the splash of water against the sides and the Wolf’s deep breathing.

“Not necessarily,” Ariella said at last, avoiding my gaze. “Nothing is certain, and that is only one possible future. But…yes. If you fail here, there is a real possibility of losing you to the darkness, and you becoming the Winter King.”

“So it wasn’t just a nightmare,” Puck’s voice broke in. I turned to see him standing behind us, hands in his pockets, watching me with serious green eyes. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear you guys,” he continued, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “And you know, I was just thinking, that dream you were talking about. It sounds an awful lot like the one I just had.” His mouth twisted into a smirk, and his gaze narrowed. “Only, in this version, I died. Some Winter King bastard stuck me through the chest while we were fighting. Kinda traumatic, if you know what I mean. And that was after he destroyed most of the Summer Court.”

I held his gaze. Puck didn’t shy away and continued to stare at me, half smile firmly in place. But beyond the smirk, beyond the flippancy and cheek and cocky self-assurance, I could sense the indecision, the fear he never let anyone see.

“Do you regret it?” I asked, and he raised a brow at me. “Do you regret our feud is over, not killing me when you had the chance?”

Puck shot me a painful smile. “Oh, there’s a part of me that will always miss our little duels, prince,” he said cheerfully. “Nothing like a little attempted murder to feel close to someone, right?” He grinned, then a shadow fell over his face, and he sobered, shaking his head. “Truth is, I’m glad it’s done,” he said quietly, scrubbing the back of his head. “I never wanted it, I hated that I always had to watch my back, and I knew you really didn’t want to go through with it either, prince. Especially toward the end.”

“But?” I prompted.

“But, if I see any signs of you becoming…that.” Puck shivered. “If I suspect you’re about to go postal on Mab and take a shot at the Winter throne, I won’t need a formal duel invitation to make me show up in Tir Na Nog.” He crossed his arms and stared at me with a mix of regret and determination. “If it comes to that, prince, I will stop you.”

I stood. A breeze blew across the surface of the river, tossing hair and tugging at clothes. I gripped the railing and stared out over the water, feeling his eyes on my back. “If it comes to that,” I told him quietly, “I’d want you to.”

* * *

THE FERRY CONTINUED through the seemingly endless waters of the River of Dreams. The sun never rose, the night never waned; it was all eternal midnight this far into the Deep Wyld. Farther in, the river became crowded with more dream debris, larger and wilder than before. A huge cherry tree, springing from the middle of the river, shedding pink blossoms like falling snow. A glass coffin with a black-haired princess inside, pale hands folded on her stomach as she slept. A long table floated past, complete with a full tea-party set—pot, plates, teacups. Puck snatched a large basket of scones as it drifted by.

How long the ferry slid through the River of Dreams, I wasn’t sure. We took turns at guard duty, ate and slept when we could, and talked among ourselves. Puck quickly grew restless, and being trapped in a small area with a bored Robin Goodfellow and a huge, volatile wolf was a scene from a nightmare. After one hot-tempered explosion that rocked the boat and nearly dumped everyone into the river, I suggested Puck adopt his raven form and “scout ahead,” which he was happy to do, much to everyone’s relief.

After Puck left, things quieted down. Grimalkin slept almost constantly, and the Wolf either paced the deck like a caged tiger or lay curled up at the stern, his burning eyes distant and far away. He rarely spoke to anyone, though there were times, when the Wolf was on guard duty and everyone was supposed to be asleep, that I saw him and Grimalkin talking together, their voices always too low to hear. Awake, they studiously ignored each other or shot contemptuous glances in each other’s direction, but the night I saw them at the bow of the ferry, gazing over the water side by side, I couldn’t help but wonder if their ancient war was just another game they liked to play.

Ariella and I talked sparingly, and when we did, it was often of the present, of the Winter and Summer Courts, of the Iron fey that had so recently invaded our world. We avoided talk of the past, the old hunts and long nights in the wyldwood, though the memories kept springing up whenever we spoke. But ever since the dream with Meghan, Ariella seemed like a different person. She was so quiet, drawn into herself, brooding over a future I could not see. Her smiles seemed rigid and forced, her laughter tinged with melancholy. Once, when I asked if the visions had shown her anything of herself, her eyes glazed over and she stared right through me before she shook herself and waved it off, smiling. But for a long time after, she stared over the River of Dreams, and though I could reach out and touch her, feel her soft skin under my fingertips, it seemed I was staring at a ghost, an echo of a person I once knew.

“Here,” she said one night, joining me at the bow. It was my turn for watch, and I was leaning against the railing staring into the passing forest. When Ariella dropped an orange into my hand, I blinked and looked at her curiously. “Eat something,” she ordered, pointing to the fruit. “I hardly ever see you eat, and I know even you get hungry from time to time.”

“How did you get this?”

She looked embarrassed for a second. “Never mind that. Just eat it, Ash.”

Her tone was full of warning, but I couldn’t let it go. “Where—”

“A group of winged monkeys threw it at me.” Ariella crossed her arms and glared, and I had an odd moment of déjà vu. “On my last watch, we passed an orchard on the banks, and there were at least a dozen monkeys living there, staring down at us. I threw a rock at them and they…threw things back. And not just food items, either.” She blushed with embarrassment and glowered, daring me to laugh. “So you’d better eat that before I stuff something else down your throat, and it won’t be a banana.”

I laughed and raised my hands in surrender. “As you wish, your highness,” I said without thinking, but sobered quickly. Now I knew why this felt so familiar. For just a moment, Ariella had sounded just like Meghan.

And, judging from the look on Ariella’s face as she pulled back, she knew it, too.

Guilt pierced me, sharp and painful. “Hey,” I said, catching her wrist as she started to turn away, “Ari, listen. When this is all over, when we come back from this crazy venture, I’ll make sure you can go home if you want to.” She blinked and gazed up at me, as if such a thought had never occurred to her. “Your father’s estates are still standing,” I went on. “No one has tried to claim them yet. Or you can return to court—I don’t think Mab will try to stop you. If she does, I can talk to her. I still have some influence in the Winter Court, no matter what Mab thinks of me. I want you to know that you’ll be taken care of. I can give you that much, at least.”

She smiled faintly, though her gaze was distant and unreachable. “If I had wanted any of those things, I would already have them,” she replied in a gentle voice. “I’m grateful, Ash, but it’s far too late for me to return to that life.”

“I want to help you,” I told her quietly. “Anything in my power, anything I can give freely is yours. Let me try to make this right. Just tell me what to do.”

She stepped closer, placing a soft hand on my cheek, so near I could see my reflection in her starry eyes. “Finish this quest,” she whispered, and pulled away, walking to the aft of the ferry without looking back.

* * *

AN INDEFINITE TIME LATER, I woke from a dreamless sleep and gazed around, realizing it was nearly my turn for watch again. On the opposite bench, Ariella slept soundly, a purring Grimalkin curled up beside her. A strand of silver hair fell across her eyes, and I raised my hand to brush it away before I realized what I was doing.

Clenching my fist, I turned and wandered toward the bow of the ship, where the Wolf sat in the moonlight, gazing out over the river. His ears were pricked, his nose raised to the wind, the breeze ruffling his glossy black pelt.

“Change is coming,” he rumbled as I stepped up beside him and leaned against the rails, carefully balancing my weight. Even when the Wolf was sitting down, the top of my head was barely level with his shoulder, and wherever he went, the boat tilted, very slightly, to the side. “I can smell it. Either something is approaching us, or we’re very nearly there.”

I looked down, watching a fish twice as long as the ferry brush up against the side, regard us with one enormous silver eye, and sink back into the depths. “Do you think we’ll hit anything before we reach the Briars?”

“Hard to say,” the Wolf replied. “I’m surprised we made it this far without any trouble. If you believe the cat, it’s because the ferry is a part of the river, and passes through dreams without drawing any attention to itself or its passengers.” He snorted and curled a lip, as if just realizing he had spoken about Grimalkin in a nonviolent manner. “If you can believe anything he says, anyway. Besides, that will probably change once we hit the Briars.”

“How far?” I asked.

“Couldn’t tell you.” The Wolf raised his head and sniffed again. “But it’s close. The Briars has a particular smell, unlike anything else in Faery.” He turned and regarded me with burning, yellow-green eyes. “I hope your girl knows the way. I’ve stalked the Briars countless times, and I’ve never seen the End of the World.”

“She’ll get us there,” I said softly. “I trust her.”

“Really?” The Wolf snorted, looking back toward the river. “I wouldn’t.”

I turned, narrowing my gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Pah, boy. Can’t you smell it? I guess you wouldn’t.” The Wolf turned as well, lowering his head so we were face-to-face. “Your girl is hiding something, little prince,” he said in a low growl. “She reeks of sadness, of indecision and guilt. And desire, of course. It’s even stronger than yours. Oh, don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about. Both of you smell like rutting deer that don’t know whether to flee or just get on with it.” He bared his fangs in a brief smile as I glared. “But I would be careful around her, boy. There’s something she hasn’t told you. I don’t know what it is, nor do I care, but she doesn’t want this journey to end. You can see it in her eyes.”

I glanced at Ariella, knowing the Wolf was right. She was hiding something, something more than her emotions or her visions or the many futures I knew she had seen. I saw the gleam of golden eyes on the bench and knew Grimalkin was watching me, but at that moment I heard the flapping of wings, and a large black bird swooped in to perch on the deck.

It changed to Puck in a swirl of feathers, making the Wolf wrinkle his nose and sneeze. “Heads-up,” Puck announced, raking feathers from his hair. “We’re coming up on the Briars, and it looks like the river goes right through it.”