SECRETS FOR SECRETS
Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore was the cheesy first thought that went through my head as we stepped out into the street.
Noise surrounded us—not the muffled sounds of cars and street traffic at night, but the louder, garbled sounds of a huge crowd. “Normal” Bourbon Street had disappeared; though I could see it was still the same stretch of pavement, the same buildings lining the sidewalks, it was definitely not the same world. Streetlamps had been replaced with torches and faery fire, orbs of blue-white flame floating overhead. There were no cars, but horse-drawn carriages glided down the road—only the horses’ hooves never touched the ground, and their eyes glowed blue in the shadows. The buildings, though they looked the same at first, appeared old and run-down on closer inspection, covered in vines and moss, as if we had stepped back in time a hundred years.
And of course, there were the fey.
They were everywhere, milling about the road in huge numbers, faeries of every shape, size and description. Short, warty goblins with beady eyes and huge ears. Hulking ogres, their thick knuckles dragging along the ground as they lumbered by. Redcaps flashing their shark-toothed grins at everyone. Rail-thin bogeys hiding in the shadows and narrow crevices. And faeries I didn’t have a name for, all wandering down Bourbon Street, looking like the world’s largest freak convention.
Oh, this was going to suck.
Shrugging off my backpack, I pulled out my swords and slipped them onto my belt. No way I was going out there unarmed. Taking out my jacket, I shrugged into it and pulled up the hood, hoping it would shield me from any curious looks. And if my luck held, hide the fact that I was human long enough to find Keirran and get out of here without trouble.
Glancing at Annwyl, who looked slightly overwhelmed as well, I grimaced. “Ready for this?”
“No,” she replied, her eyes wide. “But...lead the way.”
We slipped onto the crowded road, moving more slowly than I would’ve liked. Faeries weren’t the only thing making the street difficult to navigate. Booths and wooden tables were arranged in narrow aisles down the pavement, displaying the weirdest merchandise you’d ever see in your life: weeping fish and glass eyes and jewelry made of bones and teeth. Bird skeletons, crystal balls, shriveled hands and hats that whispered to you as you passed. A yellow-eyed woman in gypsy robes caught my eye and grinned, beckoning me toward her booth, waving a deck of cards in her long fingers. A kimono-clad girl with fox ears peeking from her hair gave me a coy smile, fluttering a fan and pointing to her table of rice cakes. I ignored them all and hurried on.
After several minutes of wandering the aisles and dodging requests by persistent vendors to take a look at their goods, it became pretty apparent that the chances of just stumbling into Keirran were slim to none. This place was massive; I could walk right past the Iron Prince and never know. Luckily, that hadn’t been my only plan. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, though, because it meant I was going to have to do something I hated and tried to avoid at all costs.
Bargain with the fey.
I searched the market until I found a booth that sold “potions for all ills,” run by a well-dressed, ancient-looking gnome. He stood on a stool beside a counter full of different-size vials and bottles. Vial of Forgetfulness, one read, next to a large display of Minor Love Potions and Jars of Friendship. The gnome blinked as we came up, raising an eyebrow that looked like a fuzzy gray caterpillar.
“Human?” His voice squeaked like a centuries-old mouse. “Unusual. How did you find your way into the market?”
“Does it matter?” I asked him, keeping my head down and my voice low.
The gnome sniffed, and his voice turned wheedling. “No, I suppose not. But while you’re here, how ’bout you buy one of my wares? I have a lovely selection of love potions. Guaranteed to work, you know. You have that pining aura all around you, boy.” He grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “Or perhaps there is a rival? This lovely vial right here will turn your enemy into a cockroach.”
“No,” I said, repressing a shiver. “I’m just looking for someone, a friend of mine. Part human, silver hair, my age.” I didn’t say exactly who he was; the gnome definitely would’ve recognized him, but I didn’t want word spreading that we were looking for the Iron Prince. If the vendor had seen him, he’d know who I was talking about. “Have you seen him? And if you haven’t, do you know of anyone who might have?”
As I was talking, I swung my bag off my shoulders, unzipped it and reached into the side pocket. The gnome gave me a sly grin, but before he could say anything about cost, I pulled out a full bottle of honey and plunked it on the table.
He blinked. “What’s this?
“Payment,” I replied flatly. “For information.”
“Hmm.” The gnome regarded it appraisingly, trying not to look eager, though I saw it anyway. “I do use honey in a lot of my potions, but I don’t know if that will be enough of a trade...”
I snatched the bottle off the counter and turned. “Fine. We’ll just find someone else.”
“Wait! Wait.” The gnome threw out his hand, scowling. “Very well.” He sniffed. “You drive a hard bargain, human. Give that to me, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Still wary, I handed it over, placing it within reach this time. The vendor snatched it up, sniffed the cap deeply and smiled. Tossing it behind the table, he turned back to me with a grin.
“Sorry, human. Haven’t seen him.”
I breathed deeply to stop myself from punching this faery in his smirking head. “That’s not what I asked.”
“You wanted me to tell you if I’ve seen your friend.” The gnome sounded smug. “And I answered. I haven’t seen anyone like that around here. I gave you the information we agreed on, human. This bargain is done.”
Dammit, this was why I hated faeries. I didn’t have many bargaining chips left, and we still didn’t know where Keirran could be. At least we hadn’t been negotiating for something important, like my voice or my future kid. I’d have to word any requests very carefully next time.
But before I could say or do anything else, Annwyl spoke up, startling us both.
“No,” she said, coming around to stand beside me. Her voice was firm, shockingly different than the shy, quiet girl I’d known so far. “Not everything. You’re ‘forgetting’ the second part of the question. Do you know of anyone who might have seen our friend? This market has an information broker, does it not? Where can we find it?”
“Ahhh.” The gnome shuffled his feet, not meeting Annwyl’s fierce glare. I was still staring at her in shock and also kicking myself for not catching that myself. “Well, like I said,” he muttered, “I haven’t seen your friend. But there is an information broker around here, I believe.”
“Where?” Annwyl asked, her tone hard.
“She has a tent two blocks down,” the gnome said, pointing with a crooked finger. “Not very obvious—you’ll have to be looking for it to see it. Just keep an eye out for the crows.” He glared at me. “And you’ll have to have something better than a jar of honey to get the information you’re looking for. She ain’t nearly as nice as I am.”
Oh, goody. More bargains. Wonder what this faery will want. If it even mentions my firstborn kid, I swear I’m going to punch something.
Without another word, Annwyl turned and headed back into the market. Giving the gnome one last glare, I followed.
“I thought you didn’t remember anything about goblin markets,” I said as we dodged around a booth to avoid a troll stalking by, sharp tusks curling from his jaw. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I was just surprised. Are you starting to remember?”
“No,” Annwyl said, back to being quiet and shy, not looking at me. “But I’ve made a few bargains in my lifetime, and I know my way around the tricks and loopholes.” Her voice hardened. “I wasn’t going to let that gnome get away with not telling us about Keirran.”
“Well.” I exhaled, suddenly very glad that she was there. “You’ll have to help me out with this information broker, then. I’ve avoided making deals with the fey my entire life, so I’m a little rusty.” I glanced around the market, with all its crazy, surreal merchandise and vendors, and repressed a shiver. “I swore I’d never do this,” I groaned. “So, just poke me if I’m about to bargain away my voice or something.”
Annwyl nodded solemnly, and we continued deeper into the goblin market.
* * *
The market thinned out a couple blocks down. Booths and tables still lined the sidewalks, but not as many, though there were still crowds of fey milling between them. I kept my head down and my hood up as I skirted the edges of the booths, searching for anything that might be our mysterious information broker. Keep an eye out for the crows, the gnome vendor had said. What was that supposed to mean?
“Any idea what we’re looking for?” Annwyl murmured at my shoulder.
I was about to reply when I caught a split-second glance of a figure gliding through the crowds of fey. A girl...with long raven hair streaked with blue. My heart gave a violent lurch and I turned quickly, running into someone in my haste.
“Excuse me.”
The faery I’d bumped into turned, a tall Winter sidhe with a furry white cloak draped over her shoulders, the head of a fox peering sightlessly down at me. Her tone was as icy as her eyes and hair. “What’s this?” she said, glaring down her nose at me and Annwyl. “A dirty little human and a Summer harlot. Did you touch me, human?” Her blue lips curled with distaste. “I will never get the stench out of my cloak.”
“Sorry,” I said hastily, backing away. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, but you did, all the same.” The Winter faery’s voice was cruel, and she snapped her fingers. Three trolls stepped out of the crowd, boxing us in. They were bigger than the normal variety, their skin pale blue instead of green, their lank hair white. They growled, baring curved tusks, flexing long black claws. The Winter faery’s lips curved in a slow smile. “I believe compensation is in order,” she purred as my hands twitched for my swords. “Or I will have my pets take it out of your hide.”
“Milady, please,” Annwyl began.
“Silence, Summer filth,” the Winter lady snapped, giving Annwyl a look of pure hatred. “You’re lucky the mortal was the one to transgress. I would have ripped out your weak Summer heart and fed it as a treat to my pets. Dare to speak to me again, and I will.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I snapped, pulling my weapons. “Unless you want to take home three less pets than you started out with.” The trolls surrounding us snarled, but the sidhe woman laughed. I bristled at that laugh but tried to keep my voice reasonable. I did not want to fight three scary-ass trolls in the middle of a goblin market. But I also did not want to bargain with a Winter gentry, not now. “I don’t want any trouble,” I told the faery, who offered a patronizing smile in return. “Just let us go, and we can get on with our lives.”
“I don’t think so, little human.” Her eyes narrowed to blue slits, though that sadistic smile didn’t waver. “And I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do. So, what’s it to be, mortal?” She edged closer, looming over us. “What do you have to offer for your pathetic blunder?”
“Nothing,” I snarled, raising my swords. “I don’t have anything.”
“What he means to say,” interrupted a new voice, making my heart stop, “is that he has to wait for me to make any bargains on his behalf.”
The faery turned, the trolls grunted and I stared...as Kenzie pushed her way into the circle and stood in front of me, facing down the sidhe. Annwyl gasped, but I couldn’t move or even make a sound.
“Another human,” the gentry mused. “The market is practically infested with them tonight. Well, go on, then, mortal.” She waved an airy hand at the girl. “Tell me who you are, before I have my pets rip off the boy’s head and turn his skin into a new cloak for me.”
“You don’t need to know my name,” Kenzie said in a clear, unwavering voice. “All you need to know is that I can pay for whatever he—” she jerked her head back, though she didn’t look at me “—owes you.”
“No!” I started toward her, but one of the trolls moved. Lightning fast, it lashed out with a huge fist, slamming me in the stomach. Pain exploded through my gut, and all the air left my lungs. Gasping, I dropped to my knees on the pavement, feeling the world spin around me and trying not to hurl.
Annwyl sank down, trying to help me up as the trolls closed in, growling. Kenzie spared me a brief, frightened look, then turned back to the Winter faery, holding something out to her. From my angle on the ground, I couldn’t see what it was.
“Here!” Kenzie said as I struggled to get up, to stop her. “You can have this. Take it and leave us alone.”
The sidhe’s thin eyebrows rose. “A Token?” she mused, unable to mask her surprise. “Well, how very generous, little mortal.” She reached out, plucking something bright from Kenzie’s hand, and snapped her fingers. The trolls backed off, still growling, but retreated until they stood behind the Winter faery. “I suppose this will do,” she said, and her gaze strayed to me, still on the ground. “You’re very fortunate, boy. Next time, I will have your lovely eyes on a string. Run on home, before you get in real trouble, mortals. You don’t belong here.”
She glided off, her trolls stumping along behind her, and the small crowd that had been watching dispersed.
I rose, breathing slowly, carefully, to make sure none of my ribs were broken. “I’m all right,” I rasped, to ease the concern on both Annwyl’s and Kenzie’s faces. But while Annwyl hovered anxiously, her green eyes solemn and worried, Kenzie remained where she was, watching me with a mixture of concern, wariness and anger.
My shock hadn’t faded. I didn’t know what to feel; my insides were such a chaotic, churning mess of emotion, I didn’t know what to settle on. Relief that she was here. Anger that she was here and not safe with her family. Astonishment that she had found us. A horrible, gnawing guilt that I had ditched her, left her behind while I went looking for the fey.
And of course, there was that knowledge that she had just saved us. Again. I remembered Kenzie’s quick thinking in the Nevernever, when I’d been in trouble and she’d managed to turn it around. The odds hadn’t looked good for me a few seconds ago, either. Those trolls probably would’ve torn my arms off.
Why didn’t you want her to come, again?
Oh yeah. Because she was gravely ill. Because there was a creepy faery assassin following me around. And because, no matter what she said, the world of Faery and everything in it was dangerous.
And I couldn’t lose her to Faery the way I’d lost Meghan.
“Kenzie, what are you doing here?” I snapped, which didn’t come out as strong as I wanted as my lungs were still a bit flattened. “How did you even find us?” Her eyes flashed and shifted all the way to anger.
“I asked around,” she replied, glaring at me. “You’re not the only one who can see the fey anymore, remember? When we got here, I kept my eyes open and found a faery living in the hotel we’re staying at. A brownie, I think. He was all too happy to tell me how to find and get to the goblin market.”
“Dammit, Kenzie,” I growled, glaring back at her. “What did you give him for that information?”
She raised her chin. “I brought a whole suitcase full of gifts and bribes, tough guy. It’s amazing how far costume jewelry will get you.”
Relief spread through me. At least she hadn’t come unprepared, though, really, what had I expected from her? It wasn’t even that much of a shock that she had found her way with little to no information. Kenzie would always find a way, whether it was a good idea or not.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I insisted, and her expression darkened.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now,” Kenzie shot back. “So unless you’re going to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman and cart me out, I’m not going anywhere.”
I clenched my fists, wondering how badly she would hurt me if I did just that. But Annwyl moved up beside me and touched my arm.
“Ethan, look,” she murmured, nodding to something across the street.
Tearing my attention from Kenzie, I followed Annwyl’s gaze. On the other side of the road, I caught sight of a line of birds perched along a telephone wire, black and nearly invisible against the darkness. Below them sat a plain, nondescript tent, also nearly invisible against the carnival-like backdrop of the market.
Kenzie glanced at the line of birds and the tent beneath it. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. “Crows,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Am I missing something? I thought we were here for Keirran. Do we think he’s in there?”
I slumped. “No,” I muttered, picking up my dropped swords and sheathing them at my waist. No use in standing around arguing. Kenzie was here, and she wasn’t leaving. I was certain she’d lay into me about it later, but right now, we needed to find what we were looking for and get out. “But it’s a place where someone might know where he is. Just...we have to be careful. I don’t think honey and fake jewelry are going to work here.”
Kenzie still looked pissed but gave a stiff nod. Still, something nagged at me, and I caught up to her as we crossed the road, heading for the tent. “Wait, what did you give that Winter faery?” I asked in a low voice as we passed under the telephone wires, hearing soft, garbled caws overhead. “She said it was a Token.” A Token, in faery terms, was an item that had been so loved, hated or cherished in real life, it had actually developed a life of its own. The item, whatever it was, became the embodiment of that emotion and was like a lump of pure glamour to the fey. “That wasn’t costume jewelry, was it?” I asked, and Kenzie swallowed.
“No,” she whispered, not looking at me. “It was...my mom’s ring. I was saving it, in case I needed something really valuable to offer for trade.”
I stopped, looking at her in horror. “Kenzie...”
“It’s fine, Ethan.” But she still didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t regret it. And it was the only thing I could think of.”
The guilt I’d felt before was nothing compared to the bone-crushing weight I felt now, squeezing the air from my lungs. I didn’t know whether to apologize or yell at her for doing something so stupid, giving up something so precious, for me. But Kenzie walked doggedly forward, head and back straight, and ducked through the tent flaps at the edge of the sidewalk. Annwyl and I had no choice but to follow.
The inside of the tent was dark, musty and warm. Orange candle glow flickered around us, on tables and hanging lanterns, and the air smelled of bark, dust and animal droppings, making me stifle a cough.
Near the back of the tent, a ragged, hooded figure sat in the center of what looked like a huge nest. Twigs, string, grass stalks and branches were woven into each other, surrounding the hunched form in the middle of the nest. A pair of crows perched on the edge, regarding us with shiny black eyes.
The figure in the center of the nest stirred, cocking its head like it was listening for us. “Visitors,” it rasped, its voice low and harsh. “Step forward.”
We eased up to the tangle of sticks and branches, where one of the crows cawed and aimed a sharp peck at the side of my face, making me flinch. The robed figure burbled a laugh.
“Watch your eyes,” it warned. “They like shiny things.”
I eyed the crow warily, then noticed something else. The bottom of the nest was covered with feathers, string and bird droppings, but beads of brilliant color glinted among the offal. Rings, keys, earrings, buttons and other shiny objects were scattered about as well, but even they seemed dull compared to the glowing orbs of color lying among feathers and bird crap. Eyes shining with fascination, Kenzie reached out to touch the closest one, but the hooded figure swatted her arm with a folded paper fan, and she pulled back with a yelp.
“No, no,” the figure rasped and raised its head. Beady eyes glinted under the cloth as I stared into the face of a huge raven, beak snapping in irritation. A scaly black talon reached out and plucked the bead that Kenzie had been reaching for, drawing it into its chest. “Secret is not for you. Not without a price.” The bird-thing rolled the glowing green marble back and forth in its claws and watched us, unblinking. “You seek information,” it said, its gaze settling on Annwyl. “All who come here seek information, secrets, hidden things.” It closed its talons, and the bead vanished. “Perhaps I have what you seek, yes? Ask. Ask.”
“What is the price?” Annwyl asked instead, echoing what I was thinking. “You spoke of a cost. What do you want for the information we seek?”
“Depends” was the croaked answer. “Depends on the secret, how well hidden it is, how hard it was to discover. Don’t know until you ask.” It clicked its beak with a grinding sound. “Ask,” it demanded again. “Ask. Then see if the price is too high to pay.”
Annwyl looked at me. I nodded. We wouldn’t get anywhere standing around doing nothing, much as I wasn’t enjoying this. “We’re looking for someone,” the Summer faery said, turning back to the bird-thing. “Prince Keirran of the Iron Court. We need to know where he is, where we can find him, please.”
“Iron Prince?” The bird faery didn’t seem surprised or distressed. “When do you wish to find him?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Hmm.” The bird faery thought a moment, then plucked a marble out of the debris, holding it up. It pulsed with a soft blue light.
“Large secret,” it rasped. “Not difficult to get, per se, but demand makes it expensive. The Iron Prince is well hidden. His location is one that many would like to know. But I know where he is.” It chuckled, a low sound in the back of its throat, and I clenched my fists. The answer to Keirran’s whereabouts, not three feet away. If I just grabbed it and ran, would a mob of angry crows run me down and peck me to death? Not that I had any intention of doing something so stupid, especially with Kenzie and Annwyl around, but I wished we could get it without all this ridiculous, dangerous bargaining.
Annwyl’s voice remained calm. “What do you want for it?”
The faery’s eyes glittered as it looked at all three of us. “For secrets to be revealed,” it rasped, closing its talons over the marble, “secrets must be shared. One piece of information for another. If you want to know the location of the Iron Prince, you must give me a secret in return. Something you have never shared with anyone. And I will decide if the combined weight of your secrets is enough to share this one with you.”
“Really?” Kenzie asked, sounding puzzled. “That’s all? Just one secret from each of us?” She blinked, then frowned slightly. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch,” Annwyl said quietly, startling me again, “is that our secrets become brokered merchandise that anyone can pay for. Something that can be traded away to whoever wants it, if their offer is high enough.”
“Yes,” the crow faery agreed, not bothering to deny it. “Secrets for secrets, one whisper for another. Information is very powerful. Some would die for it. Some would kill for it. How much are you willing to pay, little wingless ones? How badly do you want to find the prince?”
“I’ll agree to your price,” Annwyl said without hesitation. “If this is the only way to find him. But Ethan and Kenzie don’t have to do this.” She spared us a quick glance. “This isn’t their burden.”
“No.” The faery shook its head, dislodging a feather that floated lazily to the side of the nest. “You are all looking for the Iron Prince. You all want the information. You all must pay the price.” It snapped its beak with a sharp clicking sound. “Secrets from all, or secrets from none. That is how it works. And do not attempt to tell me falsehoods, humans.” It fastened a beady black eye on me. “I will know if what you speak is truth or lies. So.” It cocked its head, regarding us all. “What is it to be, wingless ones? Do we have a deal?”
Dammit, I didn’t want to do this. And I sure as hell didn’t want Kenzie to do this. Trading honey, jewelry or material things wasn’t bad; I could easily replace them. It was this kind of thing that scared the crap out of me. Bargaining away something personal, something that was a part of me, that I could never get back.
But if it was the only way to find Keirran...
I sighed. “All right,” I murmured, and Annwyl looked at me in surprise. “I’ll agree to it, too. Kenzie?”
She didn’t look at me, and her voice came out stiff. “You already know I’m gonna say yes.”
“Excellent,” rasped the bird faery as the two crows flapped their wings and hopped to its hunched shoulders. One scaly talon rose to beckon to us. “Step forward, then. Come around to this side and whisper your secret into my ear. But remember—trivial secrets are of little use to me. Deep, dark secrets carry power and are the only thing that will pay for the information you desire. Do not waste my time, wingless ones. Step forward.”
I swallowed hard as Annwyl walked around the nest, coming to stand at the faery’s side. The crow on the ragged shoulder eyed her, unblinking, as she bent down, bringing her mouth close to the hooded cowl. Her lips moved, and I averted my gaze, feeling I shouldn’t watch her spill her darkest secret to the hunched form in the nest.
The crow on the faery’s shoulder suddenly lunged at her, driving its sharp beak into her ear. Annwyl gasped, jerking away, as the bird pulled back, holding a glowing green orb the size of a marble.
Ruffling its feathers, the crow hopped onto the bird faery’s arm and dropped the glowing ball into its open palm. The faery’s claws curled around it instantly, and Annwyl’s secret vanished from sight.
The Summer girl shivered.
“Yes,” the faery hissed, sounding pleased. “Good, very good. We are off to an excellent start.” It clacked its beak and looked at Kenzie. “Now, are the human’s secrets as interesting?”
Kenzie’s eyes met mine, and something in her solemn gaze caused chills to creep up my back. More secrets. I thought she’d already told me her biggest secret, the one she shared when we were alone and trapped in the Forgotten cave. The thought that she was hiding more from me made my insides hurt.
Kenzie walked around the side of the nest, bent down and whispered something into the faery’s ear. This time, though I felt rotten doing it, I watched her carefully, trying to catch a hint of what she was saying. My heart stilled when, for just a moment, I thought I saw my name on her lips, but I couldn’t be certain. Kenzie flinched when the crow’s beak darted into her ear, emerging with a shining orb of blue, and it disappeared into the faery’s claws like the other one.
Then it was my turn.
My heart pounded as I made my way around the nest. Secrets. What could I say? Kenzie already knew my biggest one. The regret I’d never told anyone before, that day with Samantha and the black pony, when I’d watched a faery hurt my friend, ruin her life and couldn’t do anything to stop it. She already knew. And the bird faery wanted something I’d never told anyone before. A secret that could be bought. That could be used against me.
I still didn’t know what I was going to say as I bent down, nervously eyeing the crow’s sharp beak, so close to my eyes. But I took a deep breath, my lips parted, and without even thinking about it, I breathed:
“It’s Keirran’s fault Meghan never comes around. She would still be part of this family if he was never born.”
Whoa. Where had that come from?