IN THE HEALER’S HOUSE
Well, today sucked on all kinds of levels.
“Goblins,” Nyx muttered as we peeked around a tree, watching the not-tiny group of green, bat-eared fey squabble and laugh around a campfire. “I guess some things never change. If it is all the same to you, I’d rather avoid them.”
“What? And miss out on their lovely welcoming tactics, like biting off your kneecaps and trying to shove a spear up your ass? No trip through the wyldwood is complete without it.” I made a grand gesture toward the goblins, being sure to keep out of their line of sight. “And hey, if we hang around long enough, they might start singing about dismembered babies—that’s always an experience.”
“I’ve heard it.” Nyx wrinkled her nose. “It’s comforting to know some things never change.” She turned away, but not fast enough to hide a grimace of pain. “But I’m not feeling up to taking on a whole tribe of goblins at the moment, so I suggest we go around if we can.”
“Yeah.” Truthfully, I wasn’t feeling the greatest, either. My everything ached, and the spot where those tentacles had stabbed me burned with an icy cold that still hadn’t faded. I felt like a used punching bag, and was grimly aware that, if the thing hadn’t left on its own, we might all be dead. Add the sudden acquisition of hooves and goat horns to the mix, and I was feeling...very not right. Tainted would be a good word for it. Pissed off and vengeful would be a few more. Normally, I didn’t hold grudges, but if that thing wanted to bring out the old Robin Goodfellow, then so be it. It was going to see exactly what that meant.
And who knew? Maybe if I focused all my thoughts on anger, revenge, and bringing the monster down, I could forget that, for the first time in centuries, something had scared the crap out of me.
Sneaking past the goblins was easy; most of them were drunk, the others were too busy fighting among themselves to notice anything. Nyx moved like a shadow, blending so seamlessly into the background that I felt I would lose her if I blinked. Once we were past the goblins, I took the lead and turned us in the direction of Mag Tuiredh.
The Iron Court. At the end of this road were the rulers of Iron: the former Winter prince and the extremely powerful Iron Queen. Well, to everyone else, anyway. To me, they were my good friends Meghan Chase and Ash-also-known-as-ice-boy. Hopefully they weren’t in the middle of a crisis with Summer or Winter and could be convinced to leave their kingdom long enough to help track down a terrifying abomination that didn’t seem phased by glamour or stab wounds or anything, really.
But it didn’t matter if the monster was invincible. I didn’t care how strong or special or unstoppable something was; when the three of us were together, we could take down anything.
“The wyldwood hasn’t changed much, at least,” Nyx mused, her voice barely a murmur in the eternal twilight. Around us, the tangle of trees and branches were decked out in shades of gray, except for a few shocking bursts of color among the gloom. Neon blue flowers and poison green toadstools glowed against the otherwise colorless landscape. “Though it does seem a little less dangerous than I remember.”
“How is that possible?” I wondered.
The massive forest sprawled between the courts of Faery, and there were a few things to remember about it. One: it was alive. Literally. Though not exactly sentient, like a dragon sitting in a lair scheming against you, the wyldwood had its own quirks, foibles, and personality. Take your eyes off the path for a second, and it could disappear. That nice dry cave you found earlier in the day? Probably gone when you returned. Or if it wasn’t, you shouldn’t count on it being empty. In fact, best to avoid poking your head into strange caves in the wyldwood in the first place if you didn’t want it bitten off. What did you expect? It was part of Faery, after all.
Luckily, I’d been around almost as long as the wyldwood, so we were very well acquainted. I knew all of its tricks, which berries to avoid eating (all of them), which ponds to give a wide berth, what seemingly peaceful meadows would sprout flesh-eating butterflies that tried to eat your face off. After so many years of playing, hunting, and tramping through and beneath the tangled canopy, there was nothing about the wyldwood that could surprise me.
Or so I thought.
Nyx gave me a sidelong glance, then turned her gaze to the forest around us. “It feels...tamer,” she mused. “Not quite as malicious as before. Venturing into the wyldwood used to mean faeries just vanished sometimes. Without a trace.” Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “That doesn’t happen anymore, I suppose.”
“Only if someone is being careless and not paying attention,” I scoffed. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still plenty dangerous out here if you don’t know what you’re doing. Fortunately, I’m an expert.”
Nyx raised a skeptical eyebrow and seemed about to say something, but clenched her jaw instead, sinking to a knee in the grass.
Alarm made my stomach jump. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’ll live.” Her words were tight, but she raised her head, schooling her expression into a blank mask. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve suffered worse.”
Abruptly, I remembered the monster’s claws smacking her from the air, the sick feeling in my gut when she crashed into a tree. We hadn’t had time to bind wounds and properly heal before plunging headlong into Faery; she might be bleeding out beneath that cloak, and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.
“Here,” I said, taking a step toward her and earning a wary look. “Let me see.” Her eyes narrowed, and I smirked. “I don’t bite. Hard.”
She glared a moment more, then sighed and turned her head away. I took that as agreement not to stab me and knelt beside her, carefully brushing the cloak aside to see how badly she was wounded.
My stomach dropped. Beneath the cloth, her black armor conformed snugly to her body, but three long, nasty-looking gouges had torn their way across her ribs, ripping through the material like it wasn’t there. The dark armor hid it well, but the area around the wounds was slick with blood.
I blew out a breath and looked at Nyx, who continued to stare into the distance, giving no indication that there were four giant holes in her body. “Okay, clearly we need to define ‘just a scratch,’” I said in disbelief. “Backing a car into a mailbox? Just a scratch. Angry kitten, just a scratch.” My voice shook. I didn’t know why I was suddenly angry. “This is not ‘just a scratch,’ Miss Stoic Assassin. We need to take care of this now.”
“No.” Nyx stubbornly shook her head, attempting to pull away from me. “There’s no time,” she argued. “We have to get to the Iron Queen as soon as we can. That monster could be anywhere now.”
I grabbed her arm. “And if we trip over it in this condition, it’s going to stomp us into pudding for sure,” I countered. “Not to mention, you’re bleeding. In the wyldwood. And it’s almost night.”
She winced. Tramping through the wyldwood while wounded, announcing that you were easy prey to anything that wanted a quick snack, was a bad idea. Pushing on through the night, when all the really nasty things came out, was a surefire way to get yourself eaten or dead.
“Look, we’re in pretty bad shape,” I admitted with a shrug. “I have bruises on top of bruises in places I didn’t know could bruise. Trust me, I’m all for finding and kicking this thing back to the hole it crawled out of, but if it came at us right now, I don’t think I could stop it. At the moment, I’m not sure I could stop an irritated piskie.”
That earned the hint of a smile from Nyx, which somehow made things a bit better.
“So yeah, we want to reach the Iron Queen as soon as we can, but we have to get to Mag Tuiredh first. Preferably alive. We’re not helping anyone if we get ourselves torn apart by a Grendel in the middle of the wyldwood.”
“What do you propose we do?”
I gazed around to get my bearings, then nodded. “There’s a healer not far from here.” I gestured through the trees in the general direction of the Summer Court. “She owes me a favor. Or, do I owe her a favor? One of those is true. Maybe they both are. Anyway, if we go now, we can get there before nightfall. Her bedside manner is awful, but her potions work miracles. With any luck, we’ll be on the road to Mag Tuiredh before dawn.”
Nyx sighed. “I suppose it would be reckless to continue like this,” she muttered, gingerly touching the wound beneath her cloak. The barest flicker of pain went through her eyes, almost too fast to be seen. “And the king is counting on us. I can’t fail.” She gave a decisive nod and glanced up at me, her expression resolved. “All right then, Goodfellow, I’ll trust you for now. Where is this healer of yours?”
I held out a hand. After a moment, she took it and let me gently draw her upright. I gazed down at her, smiling faintly, and she stared right back, unafraid of me, my name, or my reputation. I could see my reflection in her gaze, the horns jutting out of my hair, the slightly feral look that seemed normal for me now, but Nyx’s expression didn’t falter. My heartbeat picked up, and my mouth went dry as this deadly, confident, beautiful assassin held my gaze without fear.
Clearing my throat, I turned away, breaking eye contact. “Come on,” I said, feeling her gaze on me as I stepped back. If she noticed the flush on my face, I hoped she wouldn’t mention it. “As the great and impatient Furball would say, we’re not getting anywhere standing around. And if we wake the healer up, we’ll certainly be in for an earful.”
“Do you have any idea what time of night it is?”
I put on my most contrite, charming smile as the wrinkled face of a gnome glared at me through the crack in the cottage door. Beady eyes flashed behind her gold spectacles, and the white bun atop her head bounced indignantly as she shook her head. “No, Robin!” she snapped. “Not this time. You cannot simply show up in the middle of the night needing aid from one of your fool pranks and expect me to drop everything to heal you.”
“Aw, Miss Stacey, that’s what you said last time. You know you don’t mean it. I’m your favorite customer.”
“Out!” the gnome demanded, trying to shove the door shut again, though I had my fingers jammed into the space. “Unless you are on Death’s doorstep, which I can see you are clearly not, I am not getting involved in whatever scrape you have gotten yourself into now.”
The door pinched my fingers, sending a brief but sharp pain through my hand, and deep inside, something flared. Something...not nice. “Really?” I sneered. “Is that what you believe?” Crouching down to the gnome’s level, I brought my face to the crack and bared my teeth in a vicious smile. “Take a good look now and tell me what you think.”
The gnome’s furious gaze met mine, and her face paled. Stumbling away, losing her grip on the door, one hand went to her chest as she stared at me. “Robin,” she whispered as I stood slowly, pushing the door back. “You’ve reverted to that? What’s gotten into you?” She faltered, then pursed her lips and stood firm, glaring up at me. “What can I do for you, Robin Goodfellow?” she asked coldly.
The flash of genuine fear in the gnome’s eyes stabbed me in the heart, and the flare of nastiness faded. Guiltily, I raked a hand through my hair, wincing as my fingers brushed the rough ridge of a horn. Just another reminder that, once upon a time, I was not a good person.
“Apologies for barging in on you so late,” I muttered, being sure to wait in the doorframe and not step over the threshold. “But this is kinda important, Stacilla. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t need your help.”
The gnome sighed. “You and everyone else who gets themselves stabbed, slashed, gored, poisoned, or bitten in the Nevernever.” But she relaxed a bit, beckoning to me with a withered hand. “Well, come on in, don’t just hover in the door letting in flies. But if you expect me to do anything about...this situation,” she went on, glancing at my horns again, “I’m honestly not sure how much I can help. I don’t do curses, you know. If that is even a curse.”
“It’s not for me,” I told her, and stepped into the room, ducking to avoid the ceiling. Even though the quaint stone cottage wasn’t exactly gnome-size, it was still smaller than a normal house. “A friend of mine got pretty torn up recently, and we didn’t want to stomp through the wyldwood bleeding at night. We were hoping you could do the whole patch-em-up thing you do so well.”
“What have you and the Winter prince gotten yourselves into this time?” The gnome rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t he have healers in the Iron Realm that can aid whatever is wrong with him? Or would you get him into trouble with the queen if she found out?”
“Ah ha ha. You know us so well. But, it’s not about ice-boy this time,” I said, and stepped aside, letting Nyx into the cottage behind me. “It’s for her.”
Nyx lowered her head as the gnome’s gaze turned on her. “Please excuse this intrusion into your home,” she said politely. “I apologize for any trouble this has caused you.”
The gnome’s bushy eyebrows arched as she stared at the other faery, who waited calmly with her head slightly bowed. “What in the Nevernever...” she began, before rousing herself with a shake. “I’m sorry, but who is this, Goodfellow? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her kind before, and I have seen nearly everything in the entire realm of Faery at some point.”
“She’s a friend,” I said firmly. “And she’s hurt. Can you help her? We sort of got into a scuffle with something big and toothy.”
Stacilla let out another long-suffering sigh and turned, shoulders hunched in resignation. “Through the hallway,” she said without looking back. “Take the first door on the right. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
We did as she instructed, finding a small room with a bed, a chair, and a cabinet containing all manner of colorful bottles, flasks, and vials within. Curiosity flared; in a less dire situation I would be sorely tempted to fiddle, but at the moment I was more concerned with the faery at my back.
Nyx perched gingerly on the edge of the cot, moving a bit more stiffly now, her jaw rigid as she tried to conceal how much her wounds hurt. My stomach clenched in sympathy. All that time, through the whole fight, she had been badly injured, and it had never showed on her face.
Just like another stubborn fool I know. Is it me? Maybe I just attract that type.
Nyx was certainly an enigma. I wondered where Keirran had found her, or how she had found herself in the Nevernever in the first place. She was different than the others, the Forgotten that had fought in the war with the Lady. And not just in ideals or personality; she looked very different. To stay alive and not Fade away, these Forgotten had been forced to subsist on a nasty glamour made from the fears and nightmares of children. And yeah, it was just as creepy as it sounded. Those Forgotten had survived, but the glamour had changed them into eerie shadow fey, living silhouettes without form or features except for their glowing eyes. The monsters that lived in a child’s closet or under their beds.
If Nyx had arrived in the Nevernever after the war, then it would make sense that she had avoided the glamour that had changed her kin into nightmares. But that didn’t explain how she had “woken up,” or her fanatical loyalty to Keirran. From what they had said, I figured she was some kind of assassin who had served the Lady. An extremely lethal, efficient assassin. One who turned into Sailor Moon when said moon was full, and who would stand in front of a horrific, invincible nightmare beast for her king without batting an eyelash.
Nyx saw me watching her and raised a silver eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Goodfellow?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Just wondering how long you and Keirran have known each other. One normally doesn’t go throwing themselves in front of massive killer death machines for total strangers.”
Her lips twitched into a resigned smile. “I don’t remember much of my past life,” she said. “But I do remember my duty was to protect the ruler of Faery with my entire existence. Even if it meant throwing myself in front of...massive killer death machines.” She stumbled a bit over the phrase, then shrugged. “I no longer have a Lady to serve, so my loyalty goes to the King of the Forgotten.”
“Was it a shock? Coming back to find everything had changed?”
“A bit.” A furrow creased her brow. “When Keirran and I first met, I had just woken up, or returned to existence—whatever happens to Forgotten who come back. I didn’t know how much time had passed, what had happened in the human world, or anything about the rise of the new courts. I didn’t believe him when he told me the Lady was dead.”
“Oh, let me guess. You tried to kill him.”
She winced. “I couldn’t believe this half-mortal boy had defeated the ruler I had been serving for centuries,” she said in disbelief. “The Lady was the most powerful faery in the Nevernever. How could this slip of a human even challenge her?”
I snorted. “Yeah, Keirran isn’t exactly a normal human. Or faery. Or...anything that even comes close to normal, really. I’m betting he surprised you right quick.”
“You could say that.” The edge of a smile crossed her face, though it faded in a blink. “Though I still refused to believe the Lady was really dead. Even when we came to an understanding, I held out hope. I thought she might be slumbering, somewhere deep within Phaed or the Deep Wyld.” A pained look crossed her face, and she shook her head. “I left to find her, but it was as Keirran had said. The Lady was gone, her existence erased from the Nevernever. Nothing remains but memory, and even that is fading.”
For a moment, she looked melancholy, then took a quick breath and raised her head. “So be it. The Lady is no more, and Keirran is my liege now. I should be at his side, protecting him.” Her lips tightened, and her gaze strayed toward the door. “I’ve already failed the Lady. I can’t fail him, too.”
“Keirran can take care of himself,” I assured her. “Trust me, he’s not too keen on someone throwing themself in harm’s way for him. Worry not, though. I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of life-threatening situations before this is done.”
“Yes, well.” Nyx wrinkled her nose, that hint of a smile creeping through again. “Don’t expect me to throw myself in front of a charging death machine for you, Goodfellow.”
“Aw, why not? Is Keirran the only one with that privilege? Am I not handsome enough to die for?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Goodfellow.” Miss Stacey swooshed through the door before I could ask what that meant, and shoved a bowl into my hands. “If you’re going to be here, make yourself useful and go boil some water. Otherwise, kindly stay out of my way. Now...” She turned to the faery on the bed, climbing onto a stool to better see her patient. “What was your name, again, dearie?”
“Nyx.”
“Well, Nyx. Since I can expect everything from cockatrice bites to being kicked by an irate unicorn with this one—” she jerked a thumb at me “—please show me what I’m dealing with today. Where are you hurt?”
Nyx pulled aside her cloak, and the gnome’s lips tightened.
“Oh my.” Putting down her glasses, she leaned forward and peered at the wounds. “Three lacerations, fairly deep, made by something quite large. They look clean, though.” She eyed the Forgotten over her glasses, pursing her lips. “What were you and Goodfellow fighting, anyway?”
Nyx shifted on the cot. “Why do you want to know?”
“Well, if I’m going to save your life from a basilisk’s poisoned claws, it would be helpful to know such things,” the gnome replied. “The same goes if you’ve been stung by a manticore, bitten by a lycanthrope, stared at by a Medusa, or stabbed by a goblin. The more information you give me, the less time I waste guessing and the quicker I can prevent your insides turning to mush or your flesh becoming stone.” She gave Nyx a stern glare. “So, I don’t care how ridiculous or dangerous a stunt Goodfellow convinced you to try. If you want me to help you, I need to know what I’m dealing with. Including the type of creature that attacked you.”
“I...don’t know what it was,” Nyx said evasively. “I’ve never seen the likes of it before.”
Stacey turned in my direction.
I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never seen it before, either.”
“That I find very difficult to believe, Goodfellow.”
“Hey, you know me, Stacilla.” I flashed a grin at her. “I can’t lie, remember? I will say it was a big ugly bastard with antlers and claws and tentacles growing in places tentacles shouldn’t be. And it had a really bad attitude.”
And it had done something to me. Something I didn’t want to mention or think about, because I was fairly certain the healer couldn’t help. It wasn’t the horns and hooves that bothered me (though I wasn’t exactly pleased about them; fur in summer was just a pain), it was what this sudden transformation meant. Robin Goodfellow, the Puck of the woods, was back. Evil ideas flitted through my mind, pranks and schemes against all those who had insulted, threatened, or cheated me in the past. Pranks that, while I knew they were cruel and spiteful and just downright mean, still sounded hilarious.
I didn’t like those thoughts, but I couldn’t drag others into my plight. Whatever this was, whatever had happened to me, I had to deal with it myself. I knew how these things worked. A simple potion or healing salve wouldn’t cut it. Maybe the only way to break this curse was to destroy the creature that gave it to me. All the more reason to bring in the big guns.
The gnome sighed. “I see,” she muttered. “Well, that tells me nothing, but so be it. I will work with what I have. Now...” That dire glare turned in my direction again. “Where’s that water, Goodfellow?” she demanded. “If you want me to help your friend, I suggest you make yourself useful.”
Giving Nyx a sympathetic grin, I scampered out and did what I was told.
Later, having been banished to the living room, I leaned back against a floral, gnome-size couch and waited for the hallway door to open again. The cottage was still, the faint scuttle of a rodent or brownie in the kitchen the only sound in the darkness.
In the sudden quiet, I ached, the beating I’d taken earlier becoming more apparent with new bruises and twinges I continued to discover by shifting around. Despite the constant, low-grade throbbing, I felt my eyelids getting heavier, my chin falling to my chest as I slumped against the sofa.
I dozed.
And though it was impossible for the fey, I dreamed.
“You killed her.”
That voice. I knew that voice. Cold. Merciless. Unforgiving.
I turned and saw him behind me, felt the chill from his presence spreading over the ground. His features were cloaked in shadow, hidden from sight, but I knew him as surely as I knew my own reflection. Even if I hadn’t, two things would’ve been a dead giveaway: the ice sword, unsheathed at his side, that glowed like a neon icicle, throwing off waves of mist and cold that writhed into the air; and the lethal silver eyes that glittered like the edge of a blade, glaring at me with utter hate.
“Ash.” My voice came out flippant, and those silver eyes narrowed to slits. I could feel a dangerous grin creeping across my face, and the hilts of my daggers pressed into my palms as I turned to face him fully, raising my weapons. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Still going on about that, are you? I told you it was an accident. When are you going to forget?”
“I will never forget,” the shadow said quietly. “You killed her. It’s your fault Ariella died. Because you are nothing but a force of mayhem, Goodfellow. Your pranks consume whatever you touch, and you care nothing about the aftermath left behind. I will put you down, once and for all, and the rest of the Nevernever will rejoice that Robin Goodfellow is gone at last.”
Deep inside, I felt a ripple of disquiet, the feeling that this scene wasn’t right. The accident... I knew what Ash was talking about, of course. How could I forget? The day when I’d unknowingly led my two best friends into a monster’s lair, and one of us hadn’t survived the encounter. Ariella had been struck down and killed by a giant wyvern, and Ash had never forgiven me for her death.
I knew the incident Ash was referring to, of course. But...it hadn’t happened this way. Or had it? I couldn’t remember, and after a moment, it didn’t matter.
The shadow took a step toward me, raising his glowing sword, and the flicker of unease disappeared.
“Put me down?” I snickered and tensed to spring into action. “We’ll see about that. Come on then, ice-boy,” I mocked. “You want to get rid of me? You and the entire Nevernever. Let’s see if you get any luckier than the last faery who tried.”
The shadow lunged at me, sword raised high. I sprang forward, and around us, the seasons changed as we fought. Winter to Spring, Summer to Autumn, our blades clashed against one another as lightning flickered and snow fell from the clouds. Back and forth we went, neither giving an inch, sword and daggers seeking to end the other’s life. A cycle that would never end. And all the while, his words echoed around us, flat and accusing, filled with hate.
You killed her.
She’s dead because of you.
No one wants you alive.
I was a fool to ever trust you.
Snarling, I leaped into the air, coming down with a flurry of vicious blows, and drove the shadow back a few paces, though he parried every one of them. Panting, we broke apart and circled one another like wolves, looking for an opening.
“She never loved you.”
My steps faltered, a cold lance going through my stomach. Ash wasn’t talking about Ariella now. Lowering my arms, I stared at him, hating the Winter prince for bringing it up. For throwing that cold truth in my face.
“In fact,” the shadow went on, “she barely tolerated you. The only thing you were good for was keeping her alive those first days in the Nevernever. As soon as she found out who she really was, that she was the daughter of the Summer King, she knew you weren’t good enough for her. That’s why she chose me.”
I bared my teeth in a grin, gripping my daggers so hard my knuckles throbbed. “Don’t tell me things I already know, ice-boy,” I snarled, and lunged at him.
“Robin!”
I jerked awake with a start, the swirling battle, the raging emotions, and Ash’s voice fading into the ether as I opened my eyes. The wrinkled face of the gnome peered up at me, the look on her face one of exasperation and concern. She held a clay mug in one hand, tendrils of steam coiling from the top and fading into the darkness.
“Back with us, then?” she asked as I blinked the last of the sleep from my eyes. For some reason, my heart was pounding against my ribs, making me frown. Had I been dreaming? That was weird; the fey didn’t normally dream unless some kind of magic was in effect, a spell or a curse of some kind. What had I even been dreaming about? Everything was flashes, blips, and images I couldn’t quite remember.
Something hot slid down my cheek, stinging my eyes.
“Robin,” the gnome said again. “Did you hear me?”
“Huh?”
“Hmph, as I thought,” the gnome went on. “You’re exhausted. Don’t think I didn’t see those nasty bruises across your face. Something really kicked you around, didn’t it? Here.” She pushed the mug at me. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”
“Appreciate it,” I muttered, taking the offered mug. The steam burned my nostrils, smelling of herbs and lavender as I took a sip. “How’s our good Forgotten?”
“Resting at the moment.” Stacey shook her head. “Nasty business, those wounds. Deeper than I first thought. Whatever you ran afoul of, it’s not something I’d want to see around here. So...” She gave me a hard stare from behind her glasses. “Answer me this, Robin. Whatever that creature was, whatever monstrosity you ran into, was it also responsible for the return of the old Goodfellow?”
I choked a bit on the hot liquid, snorting it up my nose. “Ow. What? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Robin.” Stacey sighed, waiting until my eyes had stopped watering and I could give her my full attention. “I’ve known you a long time. I remember the old days, the days when the name Goodfellow was a curse among mortals and fey alike. I know this...” she twirled a stubby finger at my forehead “...isn’t who you want to be any longer. Or if it is, then that Robin Goodfellow is someone I really don’t want to see in my clinic. Or anywhere in the Nevernever. So, what happened?”
It was my turn to sigh. “I don’t know,” I muttered, setting the mug down. “I didn’t choose to be like this. Trust me, I did not wake up this morning thinking, ‘You know what would be fun? Being an evil asshole again, that would be fun.’ When we were fighting that creature, it got in a lucky shot and stabbed me. The next thing I knew... Well, I’d say I was horny, but I’ve already made that joke.”
“So, the monster did this to you.”
“Yeah, but here’s the scary part.” I paused, mulling over my next words carefully. “It’s not like I’ve changed into something I’m not. I mean, obviously it’s been a while. I didn’t have horns this afternoon, so there’s that. But what I’m feeling now...it’s like I’m turning back into who I used to be. The part that was buried.”
“Mmm.” Stacey looked grave. “Well, whatever you do, be careful, Robin. There are many in the Nevernever who would not be pleased to see the old you return. And many who would be quite terrified. Enough to wish you harm.”
“Yeah, I get that. But you wanna know the really scary part?” I felt a grin cross my face, one of my old ones, wide and vicious and completely without humor. “I’m struggling with whether or not I should care.”
“About what?” asked a new voice.
We looked up. Nyx stood at the edge of the living room, watching us without expression. Seeing her, I felt a huge bubble of relief swell up from the pit of my stomach. She was all right. I mean, I’d known she’d be fine; she was one of the toughest faeries I’d come across, not to mention stubborn, stoic, impassive, refusing to acknowledge when she was hurt...
Wait, had I just described a female version of ice-boy?
Miss Stacey, however, gave a huff and whirled around to glare daggers at her former patient. “Another one!” she exclaimed, throwing up her wrinkled hands. “Why is this a trend with all your friends, Robin? You are not supposed to be on your feet yet, young lady. I did not spend the wee hours of the dawn stitching those wounds shut for you to go tromping off into the wyldwood with Robin to fight more monsters and undo all my hard work.”
She gave a dramatic sigh, and her shoulders slumped in resignation. “But that’s exactly what you’re going to do, isn’t it? I shouldn’t waste my breath. It’s not like I haven’t been through this exact same argument with Robin and company before. So, go on.” She raised an arm, waving her hand like she was shooing a fly. “Go ahead and get yourself torn open again. I’m sure I’ll see you back here before long.”
I was rolling my eyes through Stacey’s long-winded but familiar rant when Nyx surprised us both by stepping forward and sinking to one knee before the gnome.
“I am grateful for your assistance,” she said, holding out a hand. A small, crescent shaped coin glimmered against her fingertips, and she held it out to the healer. “Our mission is urgent, and I apologize for not heeding your wishes, but we must go. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer in payment except my skills. If you ever need me or my blade, hold on to this and speak my name. I will hear it and come immediately, if I am able.”
“Oh.” The gnome deflated, losing most of her fury, and shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, dear,” she said, gently pushing the hand away. “Robin is an old friend of mine, despite all his idiocy. I am happy to help.” She shot me a glance. “I just wish my charges would take better care of themselves. Robin will continue to think he’s unkillable, until the day he’s not.”
“I have yet to be proven otherwise.” I grinned.
Stacey snorted.
Nyx rose gracefully to her feet, pulling her hood up. “I’m ready,” she told me. “We should go.”
“Yep,” I grunted, climbing to my feet as well. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the half-full mug and bumped it with a knee, sloshing hot liquid over the hardwood floor. “Oops. Uh, you go ahead and wait for me outside,” I told Nyx, feeling Stacey’s glare on my back. “I’ll just be a second.”
The Forgotten gave me a slight nod and glided out, making no sound. I started looking around for a cloth or napkin to soak up the mess, but Stacey sighed and waved a hand at me.
“Get out of here, Robin,” she said in a half-resigned, half-exasperated voice. “Before you cause any other mishaps. But before you go, answer me this. That girl... Does she know who you really were, the old Goodfellow?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She doesn’t know anything about me. Before today, she hadn’t even heard the name Robin Goodfellow, shocking as that is.”
“Hmm.” The gnome pursed her lips. “Then perhaps you should consider this rare opportunity, Robin. For once, your reputation does not precede you. Maybe try to make a good first impression, before she hears too many tales?”
I raised a brow. “I always make a great first impression, Stacilla. Not always a good one, but it’s definitely memorable.”
She rolled her eyes in defeat. I took that as my leave and slipped out, joining Nyx in the cool twilight of the wyldwood.
“Okay, that’s done,” I announced, dusting my hands together. “Ready to head out?”
“Are we truly free to go?” Nyx asked, tilting her head at me. “I feel strange, leaving this debt unsettled. By rights, I should at least owe her a favor.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I waved it off. “Stacey and I have helped each other so many times we’ve lost count of who owes whom.” Crossing my arms, I gave her an appraising look. “I gotta say, though, that turnaround was awfully quick. You sure you’re okay?”
“I am fine,” Nyx assured me. “I won’t impede our progress or slow us down. This isn’t the first time I’ve been wounded while on a mission.” For just a moment, a haunted look passed through her eyes but was gone in the next breath. “If I was given a task, the Lady expected me to complete it, no matter what.”
“That sounds familiar,” I sighed. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Knowing that you’re just a pawn in someone’s game,” I went on, “and they don’t see you as anything but the means to an end. I get it. I’ve been there. Oberon isn’t as bad as some of the other rulers—he’s no Queen Mab, at least—but he is still a faery king. They tend not to take no for an answer. Of course, once you realize this, you have one of two choices. Continue on to the best of your ability, knowing your place is to serve and not ask questions, or rebel and make life very difficult for yourself.” I paused, then shot her a toothy grin. “Guess which path I always choose?”
Nyx frowned, looking confused. “And your king doesn’t punish your disobedience?”
“Oh, all the time. If he can catch me, that is. Turns out you can’t punish what you can’t see, and I’ve learned to avoid Lord Pointy Ears when he’s in one of his moods. Eventually Oberon calms down and remembers I’m much too valuable to banish forever. He actually does have a level head on his shoulders when he’s not being all high and mighty. Titania, on the other hand, has absolutely no patience for anything, and her hissy fits are legendary. She’s so much fun to piss off.”
“Piss off?” Nyx frowned. “I don’t know that expression. And what is a...hissy fit?”
“Ah. Basically I make her so mad she throws a massive temper tantrum and I have to avoid the Summer Court for a few months until Oberon calms her down. Or she finds a shiny new plaything to distract her. Lucky for me, she’s very distractible.”
“You deliberately make your queen angry.” Nyx’s confusion now held an edge of disbelief as she shook her head. “The Nevernever is a very different place now,” she mused. “If I even hesitated when answering the Lady, she might order the rest of my kin to hunt me down for treason. And she did not forget.”
I blinked. “Your kin? There are more of you?”
“Not anymore, it seems.” For a moment, Nyx looked melancholy, a shadow crossing her face for just a moment. “But yes, at one point, I was part of a family. My clan—my Order—was a group dedicated to serving the Lady, no matter what she asked of us.”
“Yeah, she must’ve been all kinds of fun to work for.”
“I knew what I was,” Nyx said softly. “Even if I disagreed with her, my loyalty would never come into question. Even if she ordered me to kill my own blood...” She shook herself. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “We still have to get to the Iron Realm. That creature could be anywhere by now.”
“Right,” I agreed. “And we will. But first, we have to get you something so that your face doesn’t melt off while we’re in Mag Tuiredh. Fortunately, I’m in good with the border guards, so it shouldn’t take long. Then, it’s off to see the queen. And ice-boy, of course. I’m sure he’ll be especially thrilled that I’ve come to visit.”
“What is she like?” Nyx asked as we headed into the perpetual murk of the wyldwood. “The Iron Queen. Are there protocols that I should follow? I don’t want to offend anyone while I’m in her court.”
“Don’t worry.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Meghan isn’t like Mab, and she’s definitely not like Titania. She’s not going to turn you into a rosebush or freeze you inside a block of ice for saying the wrong thing. Meghan is half-human, and she was born in the mortal realm. So, she knows about not fitting in, probably more than anyone. My advice is to just...be yourself. Trust me, you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
Golden eyes regarded me curiously. I realized I had been speaking about the Iron Queen, one of the most powerful faeries in the Nevernever, in a very casual manner. “Besides...” I grinned and jerked a thumb at myself “...you’ll be with me, and I’m at least in her top three favorite faeries in the entire Nevernever, so you’ll be fine.”
“Really.”
“Can’t say it if it’s not true.”
“Yes, but all fey are masters at bending the truth, Robin Goodfellow,” Nyx said, giving me a pointed look. “I might be new to this era, but I was not born yesterday.”
“Well.” I shrugged. “Then I guess you’re going to have to trust me.”
“I guess I will,” Nyx agreed in a quiet voice that, for some odd reason, made my stomach squirm. With a faint smile, she gestured to the surrounding trees. “Lead on, then. I’ll follow you to the Iron Realm, and then I’ll see what the Iron Queen is like myself.”