Elixir (22 page)

Her radiant face shone like the moon over her dress of crisp black raven plumes. Reds, greens and blues sparkled in their shiny blackness, like the rainbow on the surface of an oil slick. They swept around her ankles like flapping wings, and fanned over the tops of her breasts. Underneath the froufrou feathers, I could see the corset made of gleaming bones.

Something was flittering above her head—for a moment I thought it was the floater—but then I saw it was a pixie, one of her tiny minions, alighting on one of her glittering earrings like a bee upon on a flower. The pixies were often spies. What secret was the tiny fairy whispering in her ear right now?

Watching the Queen, I felt a tightness in my throat. It wasn’t the rage I expected to feel—it was more like grief. I remembered when I’d been so excited to see the Queen—when old Ursaline used to scrub me clean and dress me up and I eagerly anticipated my audience with her . . . before she’d betrayed me.

For the first time, I noticed how old the Queen looked. Not old like a human. Not wrinkled and frail. Her skin was still as smooth as glass and her breasts as firm as if they were sculpted from Carrara marble. It was her eyes that were old, like she’d seen too much, and it had made her hard. They were like Obadiah’s eyes, but without their sparkle.

The Queen turned towards me. But instead of the cold, imperious expression I was expecting from her, her eyes were urgent, anxious . . . scared.

I had never seen the Queen scared before. That frightened me more than anything.

“Mab!” she cried out, hurrying towards me. It was not a dignified motion. The Queen did not run to greet guests.

But now she was walking quickly, the feathers rustling in her wake, like hundreds of quills scratching secret messages into the agate floor.

The fairies that had been setting up the food table had stopped their motions and were staring at her open-mouthed. Clearly they had never seen the Queen act this way before either. I was a guest—a human too. None of this made sense—to any of us.

The Queen stopped short, obviously aware that everyone was staring at her. She frowned and bit her lip. For a moment there was a hard gleam in her eyes that seemed to say that everyone who had just stared at her would get punished for it later. But then the other expression returned to her eyes—fear, and something else I couldn’t quite name—almost excitement.

“Mab,” said the Queen, her voice breathless, “how I have been waiting for the day when I would see you again!”

“I didn’t know you expected to see me,” I retorted. “I mean, after you left me in the human world . . .”

There was a beat of awkward silence between us. I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling all the fairies at the sides of the room staring at us.

“I knew you would return,” the Queen said, her eyes hopeful and shimmering with tears. “I knew you’d find a way. You were always such a clever, resourceful child. I knew you’d eventually find your way back home.”

“Well, you certainly made it a challenge for me—castrating my magical abilities and all that.” I hadn’t meant to get snarky, but I couldn’t help it. I was still angry. It had been one thing with the Queen’s Elf butler, being a sycophant was his job, but for the Queen herself to be buttering me up like this was just wrong. She was the one who had put me in exile!

The Queen said nothing. Instead, she turned away from me, her eyes on the ground. I was taken aback—she was not a woman easily upset.

“I am truly overjoyed to see you, Mab,” she said when she raised her eyes to me again. “Please, won’t you partake in your feast? I hope you like it—it’s all real, human food—I got all your favorites.” She twisted her hands together.

I cast a glance at the table of food. My stomach made an awkwardly loud noise of hunger, but I wasn’t going to touch anything the Queen had prepared for me. I wasn’t stupid. Still, I wondered, how had she known what all my favorite foods were? And why had she even bothered?

“No, thank you,” I said, tense. It was strange, though—if she wanted to kill me, she could have done it already without making an elaborate feast just for the purpose of poisoning me.

The smells of hot, buttered mashed potatoes, grilled cheese and caramelizing brown sugar on top the crème brûlée kept distracting me. I had to keep my focus on why I was here. Whatever the reason, I’d been lucky enough to have gotten an audience with the Queen. So I was going to ask her what I’d come here to ask her.

“I didn’t come here to eat your food, or even to see you,” I said, glaring at her.

Her face crumpled. I had never known the Queen to be sensitive.

“I came here to find out what happened to my friend Eva. I don’t think the body in the hospital is really her. I think she’s been switched with a Fetch. I want to know where she really is.”

There was more I wanted to ask her, but I figured I’d start with Eva.

“Oh yes, your human friend,” said the Queen, her tone nonchalant, which infuriated me further. “Of course you can see her,” the Queen continued. “We didn’t really want to take her—it was just that there was no other way. Don’t worry, she is completely unharmed.”

The Queen made eye contact with Korvus, who gave a quick nod. He disappeared into the next room, and a moment later he returned with another fairy. They were carrying something.

“Eva!” I called out.

She was lying in some sort of chrysalis. I could see her through the translucent spiderweb of fibers. She was unconscious or asleep or . . . no, she couldn’t be dead—her skin was glowing, healthy, unlike the frail, grayish body in the hospital room. This Eva appeared like herself, like she had just dropped off for a nap and would soon awaken, smiling.

My heart leapt up when I saw her—it was the first time since her fall that I felt like I’d really seen the old Eva. That ghastly body in the hospital was not my friend—
this
was my friend.

“Is she okay? Why isn’t she moving? Is she unconscious?”

“She’s asleep,” said the Queen.

“Eva!” I shouted with all my might. But she didn’t stir. She didn’t even twitch at the sound of her name.

“She’s not waking up! What did you do to her?” I glared at the Queen.

But it was Korvus who spoke.

“We put her in an enchanted sleep for her own safety,” he said. “When I found her at the club . . .”

“Wait, you were in Obadiah’s club . . .  ?” I turned on Korvus.

“Well, sort of,” he replied, seeming to delight in my outrage. “It wasn’t really me. At least, I didn’t look like myself.”

He smiled smugly at my confusion.

“I think you’ve met Ramsey Cunningham, your roommate’s on-and-off boyfriend? A few strands of hair contain enough DNA to do a doppelgänger spell . . .”

It was how he’d tricked Eva. She’d thought he was her boyfriend—he’d taken her to the club. And that was how he’d given her the Elixir. It would explain why no vials were missing from Obadiah’s stock—Korvus had brought his own from the Vale. Then he’d gone back into Fey form—invisible to humans—and switched her when she fell.

“Well, when is she going to wake up from this enchanted sleep?” I demanded.

“That will have to wait, Mab,” said the Queen. “Don’t worry; the sleep spell will wear off when you return her to the human world. There will be plenty enough time before her Fetch expires. But we are going to keep her here until I have had time to talk to you.”

“You’re using my friend as a hostage?” I demanded.

The Queen’s brow furrowed, but I detected a faint blush. My god, the Queen was using Eva as collateral! I was more pissed at her than I’d ever been. Though what exactly she wanted out of me I had no idea.

“I took your friend because I knew you’d come after her. You might not have taken the risk to travel back to the Vale if it was just for yourself, but if someone you loved was in danger, you’d do anything for them. Don’t worry about the human girl. Your friend is safer here in her cocoon. You must understand—tiny human minds can’t handle seeing our world. It would be too much for them. It’s better to let her sleep. And it gives us time to talk. Don’t worry.”

I
was
worried, but I held my tongue. Truth be told, I didn’t know how to undo the effects of enchanted sleep as a human—I did need the Queen’s help. So I figured it would be more prudent to keep my mouth closed and listen to whatever she had to say.

“I really am overjoyed to see you,” the Queen said again, and she actually smiled.

I don’t think I’d ever seen the Queen really smile before.

“I can’t imagine why,” I said, my hands jammed in my pockets. “The last time, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

The Queen looked at the ground again.

“That was a long time ago. I . . . I’m sorry.”

I stared at her.

“Please, forgive me,” she whispered.

I was too shocked for words. The Queen didn’t apologize. She didn’t ask for forgiveness. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you want to eat or to drink? You must be famished. You’ve been away from home for so long.” She pointed in the direction of the table.

Since when did the Queen have any concern for my well-being? Anger was rising from deep inside me. How dare she act like she cared about me now, when she’d abandoned me, severed my magic, left me to die as a human?

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The words spewed out of me before I could think better of it.

“Why the hell did you do it??” I shouted. “Why the hell did you trick me and leave me stuck in the human world?”

The Queen started. Her mouth quivered, as if she was going to cry. Then, turning around to her shocked servants who were still standing stock-still, awkward and open-mouthed around the corners of the room, she said in the most imperious voice she could muster:

“Leave us alone!”

Obediently, they all filed out—quickly, like they were grateful to be out of this room, away from this awkward scene and the strange behavior of the Queen. Even the little pixie fluttered away.

The only one left was Korvus Korax, who hesitated.

“Arania,” he started to plead, like as her closest advisor he should remain. I was shocked that he’d dared to use her first name. But when she glared at him, he reluctantly shuffled out of the room.

The door shut behind him and she let out a ragged sigh.

Obviously the Queen knew they’d all be talking about her, because she scowled. But clearly whatever she was about to tell me would be worse for them to hear than whatever stories her court would make up on their own.

I shifted on and off the balls of my heels, nervously waiting.

Her manner had changed. The facade of imperiousness was gone. She leaned up against one of the stalagmites as if she needed its support. In all her feathers and finery she looked so small and frail that for an instant I almost felt bad for her.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered.

But I wasn’t appeased.

“Of course you had a choice!” I countered. “You’re the Fairy Queen—you have absolute power! No one makes you do anything. You
chose
to betray me.”

There was a searching desperation in her eyes. “I don’t have absolute power,” she said quietly. “I know you don’t believe me. But, please, listen before you judge me. There are many who would see me dead.”

I didn’t know where she was going with this. It was true—I could think of quite a few who wouldn’t cry if the Fairy Queen died, starting with Obadiah. And even during my time in the Vale, I’d heard whispers of revolution, packs of Wolfmen or Sanguinari who wanted to overthrow the Queen. But if what Obadiah had said about her—what she’d done to the human children—was true, then she deserved all of it.

“I learned some things, Your Majesty,” I said, my voice cold, “that might have made you some well-deserved enemies.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t meet my eyes.

“Someone has to do what’s best for the realm,” she said. “Someone has to make the difficult decisions.”

“Like killing kidnapped human children? There is no justification for that!” I was shouting now. There was a time when I wouldn’t have dared to shout at the Queen—but I couldn’t help myself. Somehow, as a human with no magic, I felt more equal to her than I had as a Fey.

“So that human boy, Obadiah, gave you his side of the story, did he?”

I faltered. Had she seen him enter into the Vale with me? If she’d seen him, did that mean he was already in danger?

“I found out what you did,” was all I said.

The Queen turned to me, and there was a softness in her voice, a gentleness that I had never heard before.

“Come,” she said to me. “I want you to see something.”

The Queen led me out of the Great Hall to a small antechamber swathed in a heavy spider-weave curtain. Drawing it back, I could see the room was full of tiny, translucent squiggles—dozens of floaters gliding through the air—but then I looked closer and saw that they were in fact a bunch of pixies. I’d heard that the Queen hired pixies—“The Queen’s Eyes,” they were called.
The Queen’s Spies, more like it.
There was a reason they were the Vale’s most popular messengers. Tiny, unobtrusive and almost impossible to see—just a small visual disturbance in the corner of the eye.