The Faerie Guardian

Abruptly, I drop to the ground, let the shield vanish, and send the shards of glass speeding through the air toward Zell. He freezes them in midair just in front of his face. Dammit. The glass tinkles onto the ground as I roll behind the table. I send a gust of air around the room, stirring up the papers stuck to the wall. The gust becomes a gale, and the papers detach. They fly madly about, mixing with the swirl of papers blown off the table.

  Zell lets out a shriek of rage and begins wildly firing magic beneath the table. I scramble over to the wide central leg and sit with my back to it while I conjure up an invisible bubble of protection around myself. Once I’m completely shielded, I crawl out. In the midst of the tornado of papers, I jump onto the table. “Come and get me, you little faerie freak!”

  He jumps up a second later, and a jet of green flames hits the shield right in front of my face. Concentrating on holding the shield in place and keeping the wind going, I jump. I flip backward through the papers and land on my feet. Drop shield, stop wind, shoot at chandelier. My flash of magic hits the chain attaching the chandelier to the ceiling. Zell looks up just as the mass of metal, candle and flame smashes down on him.

  He lies still beneath the wreckage. Flames lick the pages on the table and begin to consume them. I run back to the room with the cages. “Did you find her?” I call, trying to figure out where Ryn is.

  I get a number of shouts in response. Looking up, I realize many of the prisoners are awake. They talk over one another. Some begin to swing their cages.

  “Who are you?”

  “Can you free us?”

  “She’s here to hurt us, don’t talk to her!”

  I look from one desperate face to the next. How can I possibly save all these people?

  “Violet, over here.” I run in the direction of Ryn’s voice. After passing a number of cages, I see him. A small figure in a nightdress is wrapped tightly in his arms, and an empty cage swings back and forth. Calla clings tightly to her brother while he kisses her forehead and then buries his face in her hair. He whispers something to her, and in that moment, watching the two of them, I feel utterly alone.

  Ryn looks up; his eyes meet mine. “What happened?”

  I clear my throat. “Zell’s down, but not for long. We have to get out of here now.”

  He nods. “Cal,” he says gently. “This is Violet. She’s going to help us get out of here.”

  The little girl turns her face toward me, and all I can feel is surprise. I was expecting someone who looks just like Ryn, but she couldn’t be more different. Her hair is dark blonde with streaks of honey, caramel and gold. Her eyes, currently wide with fear, are gold too. Almost luminous. I’m left with the feeling that she may possibly be the most beautiful faerie child in existence.

  As we run for the other room, the prisoners cry out for our help. “I’m sorry,” I shout, unable to look any of them in the eye. “We can’t stay any longer or we’ll be trapped here too. The Guild will send people to rescue you, I promise.”

  We hurry into the other room and run past the table—just as the mangled chandelier comes flying toward us. Calla screams. I turn and throw up a shield, then groan and collapse onto my knees as the force behind the chandelier threatens to overpower me. Zell gets to his feet on the table. “I don’t care if I have to break every bone in your body, Violet. You will not get away from me this time, and you will not take that girl.” He pushes his hands forward as though doing a press up against the air, forcing the chandelier even harder against my shield. Dammit, he’s so strong!

  Behind me, Ryn is speaking to Calla, asking if she knows how to open the stone door.

  “Yes, it’s—it’s that stone there. No, the next one. You have to pull it.”

  “Ryn,” I gasp. “I can’t . . . hold him off . . . for much longer.” I hear the rumble of the stone door sliding open. Perhaps Ryn and Calla are already out, running for their lives, leaving me here to fight Zell. But then I feel Ryn’s hand on my arm, pulling me onto my feet.

  “You have to take Calla, okay? I’ll keep Zell busy so you have time to get away.” He holds his hands up and adds his shield to mine.

  “What? Ryn, we can’t leave you—”

  “Go! You’re exhausted, Vi. I’m not. I can do this.” He focuses his attention forward, his eyes narrowed.

  “Ryn, he’ll kill you. It’s us he wants, not you.” Without looking away from Zell, Ryn pushes me backward. I stumble on my heeled boots, losing hold of my shield as I catch myself against the wall.

  “Go!” he yells once more.

  I grab Calla’s hand and run.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I sneak Calla out of the kitchen door and into the gardens. Wisps of cloud move slowly across the moon, but the stars are bright, and it’s light enough for us to see our way. “Do you have one of those metal bands on your ankle?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “They were still making a small one for me.”

  “Okay, so you have to be very careful not you use any magic, all right?”

  “I—I’ll try.”

  We creep along in silence while I try to figure out what to do next. When we round a corner and come upon a row of carriages and those long black cars with the stretched middle part, it seems to me that the best way out of here is probably the same way we came in.

  I open the back door of the nearest car and Calla climbs inside. I get in after her and close the door as quietly as I can. The light inside the car fades out, but not before I notice the dark patch of blood along the bottom of Calla’s nightdress. “You’re hurt,” I exclaim. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I’m not,” she says. “It isn’t my blood. I . . . I did something bad.” I can just make out the tears welling up in her eyes. Oh, flip. What am I supposed to do with a crying child? I have no idea what to say! Her lip starts wobbling. “Is Ryn going to die?”

  “What? No, of course not.” I take Calla’s small hand in my own. “He’s a really good fighter. He’ll get out of there.” He damn well better get out of there.

  “But we just left him with that bad man.”

  “Yeah, we did . . .” Something I’m feeling intensely guilty about. It’s not what I’ve been trained to do. Guardians fight together. “But I can’t leave you alone, Calla.”

  “What if I promise to stay right here? Will you go back and get him?” Her gold eyes beg me.

  “Okay,” I say. I’ve barely got any energy left, but I agree with Calla. We can’t just leave Ryn down there.

  I climb out the car and head back to the kitchen. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I should have just hidden Calla outside and gone back to the dungeon immediately. Ryn could be dead by now because I wasn’t there to help him.

  I’m almost at the kitchen door when a shape detaches itself from the shadows and staggers toward me. I form a fist, pull my arm back, and—

  “It’s me,” says Ryn.

  “Jeez, Ryn. How about you say that before you come lurching out of the shadows like some kind of zombie.”

  “Why aren’t you . . . gone?” He stumbles like a drunk person.

  “Why do you think, idiot? I came back for—Whoa.” I catch him as he sags against me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Glass,” he says. “In my . . . back.”

  I hold onto his arm and turn him. Moonlight glints off the shards of glass protruding from his back. “Seriously, Ryn? Did you have to go and get yourself shot with poison?”

  “I was trying to . . . piss you . . . off.”

  “Well, congratulations. You succeeded.” I half drag him to the car, not allowing myself to panic yet.

  Calla opens the door. I try to get Ryn inside, but he collapses before he’s all the way in. I climb over him, grab his arms, and pull. Calla gets his legs inside, pulling one of his shoes off in the process. She closes the door—a little too loudly for my liking. “What happened?” she whimpers. “What’s wrong with him?”

  The light fades out again. “Dammit, why won’t that stay on
?” I put my hands over the light and feel around until I find a switch. When I can see again, I sit down, pop open the compartment at the bottom of my shoe, and take out my miniature emergency kit. And then I remember that in order to enlarge it I have to use magic, which will set off that blasted alarm. I press my lips together to stop myself from swearing out loud.

  I breathe in deeply, noticing the smell of stale cigarette smoke. “He’s been poisoned,” I tell Calla. “See the glass in his back? It’s got poison on it. And I basically can’t do a thing without magic. I can’t send my own power into his body to help him, and I can’t use anything from my emergency kit because it’s currently the size of an acorn. I guess I could wrap fabric around my fingers and try to remove the pieces of glass, but the poison—”

  The car door opens. A man with a weird hat pokes his chubby face in. “What is going on in here?” Before I can get across Ryn’s body to knock the man out, Calla grabs Ryn’s shoe and whacks the man on the head. He jerks away with a cry. I jump out after him and force him—with some difficulty—into the front seat.

  I whip my stylus out of my boot and point it at him in a manner that’s meant to be threatening. “Are you the driver of this thing?”

  “Y—yes.”

  “Well then.” I press the stylus against his thick neck. “Drive.”

  “Y—you can’t hurt me,” he stammers. “I know you can’t use magic here. There’s a—an alarm or something.”

  “You think magic is the only thing I can do with this stick?” I lean close to his ear. “Trust me. Things are going to get extremely uncomfortable for you if you don’t do exactly what I say.” He swallows, does something with a key near the steering wheel, and the car purrs to life. We follow the paved path to the front of the house, around the circle, and down the driveway. The gate is open, but one of the guards stands in front of it. He holds a hand up.

  “Slow down,” I tell the driver. “Slower . . . slower . . .” We’re almost at the gate. The guard, looking bored, moves toward the driver’s window. “Now go!” I slide back in the seat as the car jumps forward and passes beneath the glare of the stone dragons.

  We’re free!

  “Keep going. Don’t slow down unless you want to feel pain.” I write a doorway onto the window and climb through it, arriving a second later in the back seat of the car. Calla is holding Ryn’s arm to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Without warning, he sits up and pulls her into a hug. I suck in a breath of surprise. But then his form flickers and he’s lying on the floor of the car again.

  Calla’s eyes meet mine. “I—I’m sorry. That was me.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That was certainly weird. “Um . . . you keep holding onto that arm, and I’ll take this one.” I grip Ryn’s lifeless hand, then open a doorway on the floor near his feet. I widen it so that three of us can fit through. “Okay, come around this side.” She moves, never letting go of Ryn’s hand. “Now we’re going to jump in at the same time and pull him with us. Ready? One, two, three!”

  We disappear into the darkness. I focus my mind on the largest couch in my sitting room, and a moment later all three of us bounce onto it. Calla topples off, and Ryn’s legs stick over the end in what would most definitely be an uncomfortable position if he were awake to feel it. I push the table out of the way and drag him onto the floor, making sure to keep him on his stomach so the glass doesn’t press into his back.

  “All right, Calla.” I remove my emergency kit from my shoe and transform it back to its normal size. “You need to stop crying so you can help me, okay?” She nods, but looks terrified. “You see these?” I hold up a bottle of flat green squares no larger than my pinkie nail. “You need to put one on his tongue every few minutes. They’re going to speed up his body’s healing process.” They won’t do the job nearly as well as my own magic would, but I don’t have much to give him right now, and Calla needs something to focus on to keep her calm. After emptying some of the squares onto my palm, I pass the battle to her.

  I fish around in my kit and find a small tweezer. While Calla seats herself by Ryn’s head, I set about the painstaking task of removing the shards of glass. After every few pieces, I pop a green square into my mouth and let it dissolve on my tongue.

  When I’ve finally removed every piece of glass I can see, Calla has fallen asleep, and my body has begun to replenish its store of magic. Time to share. I remove Ryn’s jacket with difficulty. When I get to his shirt, I don’t bother. I slide my finger from his neck down to the bottom of his spine, neatly slicing his shirt open. Pulling the pieces of fabric aside, I see numerous blue-tinged wounds covering his back. I gently place my hands over his skin, take a deep breath, and try to relax. I also try not to think about the last time I did this—for Nate. He must have already decided to betray me at that point.

  Pushing aside my anger and hurt, I concentrate. I can feel the magic leaving my body, like trails of rainwater escaping off the tips of leaves. Slowly, the blue fades away and the wounds begin to seal themselves up. I don’t stop until I’ve almost completely exhausted myself.

  I remove my hands. Ryn’s back seems perfectly healed, but I don’t know what’s going on inside him. I can’t do any more though. With an enormous yawn, I collapse onto the floor beside him and fall asleep.

  *

  There is a bird chirping in my ear. A really irritating bird. I swat sleepily at it, knowing it’s only Filigree in one of his most annoying forms: the I-will-chirp-at-you-until-you-wake-up form. I try to turn over and find myself lying on a hard surface. That’s when I remember what happened the night before.

  I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I feel like I’ve only been asleep a few hours. Looking around, I find Ryn sitting up against one of the couches. He’s watching Calla as she sleeps. He also happens to be shirtless. “Whoa, this isn’t the Training Center, you know,” I tell him. “There’s a certain level of clothing etiquette in this house, and you’re currently violating it.”

  He reaches for his jacket. “I believe you’re the one who tore my clothes off in the first place, and now you’re complaining?”

  “Trust me, there was no tearing involved. You’ll have to get that fantasy fulfilled somewhere else.”

  Instead of a quick comeback, he stares at me until I begin to feel uncomfortable. I look at Calla instead. “So . . . how did you get her out of that cage?”

  “With magic. I heard you and Zell attempting to blast each other apart and realized there was no alarm in the dungeon. I just drew the cage over to the edge of the water and forced it open. It was pretty easy.” He stands up and puts the jacket on. “Well, I’d better get her back to my father. Can you take care of the Council stuff? You know, telling them what we saw?”

  “Uh, yes. Of course.”

  He carefully lifts Calla into his arms and walks to the wall. “And V?” I look up. He hesitates, then, with more sincerity than I would ever have thought possible for him, he says, “Thank you. I mean it.”

  *

  The head of the Guild Council, a stern woman with steel grey eyes that—unfortunately for her—match the grey in her white-blonde hair, leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. “So let me get this straight.” She tucks a stray wisp of hair back into her bun. “You snuck into the home of the youngest Unseelie prince, you found your way to his dungeon where you saw people locked up in giant bird cages, you rescued Mr Larkenwood’s younger sister, and the three of you escaped unharmed.”

  Well, not entirely unharmed, but I didn’t think it was necessary to tell her about Ryn’s experience with the poisoned glass. “I know it sounds far-fetched, Councilor Starkweather, but please, you have to believe me.”

  “Oh, I believe you, all right. The Unseelie prince has been under investigation for quite some time. Do you have any proof though? Because without proof, it will be very difficult to take further action.”

  “Only this.” I hand over the folded papers I stuffed into my boot the night before. “I can’t prov
e that I got them at Zell’s home, but perhaps some of the names written there will help you. Or maybe you have a sample of Zell’s handwriting that you can match these pages to.”

  “Hmm.” She unfolds the first page and scans it. “Well, it’s better than nothing. Thank you.”

  I push my chair back and stand.

  “One more thing, Miss Fairdale.” She rises and looks directly into my eyes. “You are not to speak of this to anyone, do you understand? Not even your mentor. Please pass the message on to Mr Larkenwood, after which I do not want either of you to even think of the matter again. We now know there is at least one spy within the Guild, and we cannot afford for information to fall into the wrong hands. This is a matter for the Council to deal with.”

  “Yes, of course, I understand.” I turn to leave.

  “And another thing.” She waits until I’m looking at her once more. “The Guild does not approve of trainees—or fully trained guardians, for that matter—conducting their own private missions. I understand Mr Larkenwood’s desperation to find his sister, but he should have come to the Guild with his information. Please tell him to come and see me during the week.”

  I leave Councilor Starkweathers’s office with a smile on my face. I’m looking forward to the conversation with Ryn in which I get to say ‘I told you so’.

  I head down to the training level where the lockers are located. Most fifth years haven’t used their lockers since lessons ended for us a few months ago, but my locker is where Uri delivers the occasional extra potions I ask for. I write my code onto the metal surface with my stylus and pull it open. My heart flutters uncomfortably when I see the small brown envelope.

  I tear it open and turn it upside down over my palm. The same vial with the word Forget on the side rolls out. The color is different though; instead of being clear, the potion now has a pink tinge. I slip my fingers inside the envelope and pull out a note covered in Uri’s awkward and untidy handwriting.