Labyrinth Lost (14 page)

Nova holds my hand. He applies the tiniest pressure, but I know he's urging me to sit. Make nice. Avoid ruffling any more feathers, so to speak. Then we can plan our escape.

“Okay,” I say. “But only for a bit.”

Agosto waves a hand across the air and a decadent banquet appears. “Eat.”

Se fue, mi'jita, past the unseable door.

If I listen to the wind, I can still hear her laughter.

—Claribelle and the Kingdom of Adas: Tales Tall and True, Gloriana Palacios

Dozens and dozens of plates appear across the table. The meadow people raise their arms and cheer. A lonely cloud momentarily passes over the sun, leaving us in shadow. My vision flickers for a moment; then the cloud passes by, and we're basked in white fairy light again.

Nova and Rishi take the empty seats between two winged adas. The only seat left open is the one to the right of Agosto. He motions to the empty toadstool with his ornately decorated hand.

“I'm sure your journey has been exhausting,” he tells me. “The path to the mountain is not an easy one.”

I nod. Words. Where are my words? Looking at Agosto is unlike anything I've ever experienced. He is perfect in his beauty and strangeness. He's a wild, horned forest king and an angel all at once.

“I hope you find rest here,” he says.

The Meadowkin don't need to be told twice to eat. They dig in to heaping piles of plump, purple fruits and down sweet mead. White, fluffy cakes drizzled with honey and sprinkled with fat, sparkling sugar crystals. Roasted meat sizzles, surrounded by tender root vegetables the color of blood and bone.

“Are you serious?” Rishi shouts from the other end of the table. A stack of fluffy roti appears in front of her. She rips it up and dips it into a cast iron pot of dal. “It tastes just like my mom makes it.”

Agosto leans back in his twisted throne, an ornate wooden goblet in his hand. His full lips curl up, showing he's pleased. “We have everything you could ever dream of having.”

“That right?” Nova leans over the table. I'm afraid he's going to say something offensive or rude. Instead he says, “Then I dream of a fat ass steak.”

“I'm so glad you said ‘steak,'” Rishi says with her mouth full.

And sure enough, a sizzling hunk of prime rib appears in front of him complete with disco fries.

A frail man with the head of a mouse leans over Nova's plate. In his thin voice, he says, “Ooh! Looks good. Is that what you eat where you're from?”

“Nah, I usually eat whatever's on the dollar menu.”

The mouse man grins and stuffs his mouth with cake. His wrists are too small for some of his bracelets, and when one of them slips, I notice black-and-red wounds ring his wrists.

“Something the matter?” Agosto asks me.

I shake my head, trying to mask my worry when Rishi gets up from her seat and comes over to my side. She curtsies to Agosto, then sits with me. We barely fit on the same stool but that doesn't stop her from trying.

“I want you to try this,” she tells me, holding a slice of fruit shaped like a perfect star. “These are my favorite in all the worlds.”

I take the sticky star in my hand. It's perfectly green with a single seed wedged in the center. When I take a bite, juice rolls down my chin, and then we're in a fit of giggles at our messiness. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

This place is a dream
, a voice whispers.
This place isn't real.

But I want it to be real. I want to feel this happy always. I want to be in the light.

“I'm glad I'm here with you,” Rishi tells me.

This place brings out the warm brown in her skin, her shining eyes. Rishi has impossibly long, black lashes and perfect eyebrows I've not so secretly coveted.

“I wanted to tell you something else,” she says, “but it's the strangest thing…the thought fell out of my head.”

Rishi's always distracted. She's like a magpie, searching for shiny, pretty things. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and goes back down the table, making new friends.

When Rishi leaves, Agosto returns his attention to me. He leans his face toward me with total interest.

“Go on,” he tells me. “I know there's something you want to ask me.”

There are tons of things I want to ask him. Like, where does this food come from? Why do they all wear the same bracelets? Why does Rodriga the salamander girl seem to hate me? Even as she tilts her bowl of soup to her lips, her eyes never leave my face. What does Agosto know of the Devourer?

He waves his hand and a second wooden goblet appears. The liquid is dark and smells bittersweet, like berries gone too ripe. My tongue is so parched, and my belly makes hungry noises. The journey is catching up with me, pressing down on my shoulders with a terrible ache. Why can't I be like Rishi and Nova, happily eating and telling stories about where we come from? They make the streets of Brooklyn sound magical and wondrous. Why does it take being far away from home to finally miss it?

I drink from the wooden goblet. I've tried wine once, on a dare from Lula. It was Lady's Alta Bruja wine and they were blessing a newly married couple. Just like that time, this wine causes me to scrunch up my face at the tartness. I look down the table to see if Rishi or Nova want some, but they seem to already have their own goblets, complete with rose petals floating atop the liquid.

Agosto finds my reaction to the wine amusing and laughs. I decide I rather like his laugh and the way tufts of pollen float around him. One gets stuck on his long lashes. I reach for it and free it. He watches me. Blinks. His smile is a riddle. His face is a dream. I can't seem to take my hand away from his face. My fingers trace one of his horns.

I jerk my hand back.

“It's okay,” he tells me. “You're curious.”

I fear I've turned as red as my wine. “Why aren't you in the Kingdom of Adas?”

He thinks on the question. Even his serious face is beautiful. He looks into his goblet like he's searching for the right answer. I realize maybe that wasn't the right thing to ask. In a world wholly new to me, that seems to hold so many secrets, what
is
the right thing to ask?

“We are exiles,” he whispers.

“Oh.” I bite my lip, searching for something to say. Then, because my brain seems to be on delay, I settle for, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” He takes a small drink. The red liquid stains his lips. “It was long ago. We refused to bow to a vicious king, and so we left. These lands have changed over time, and our meadow grows smaller. But it is the only home we have. We've been here so long that I don't consider myself as coming from the Kingdom of Adas but from here. Don't you think it important to have a land to call your own?”

“I think so. My mother's family were run out of their lands in Spain and fled to Mexico. My dad's ancestors were African slaves in Ecuador. They went to Panama and then Puerto Rico. Somehow, my blood comes from all over the world and settled in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is my home.”

“Brook-
lin
,” Agosto says. “I rather like that word.”

I laugh wholeheartedly, right from my belly. It's such a good feeling that I can't remember why I don't let myself do it more often.

“It's so beautiful here.” I tilt my face to the light. I start to feel like I've forgotten something, but I'm not sure what. I realize my goblet is empty and I'm a little disappointed. But when I blink, it's full again.

“You say you're traveling to the mountains?” Agosto asks. “I should warn you. There are nasty giants in those parts. Oh, and do avoid the Laguna Roja, unless you can breathe underwater. Los Lagos might be home to me, but all places have their dangers.”

“Is the labyrinth dangerous?” I ask.

A sad smile tugs at his lips. He leans into his seat, a throne suited for the Meadow King. “No good can come from that place.”

“Have you been there?” My heart shoots up to my throat.

“Long ago.” Agosto takes his goblet and drinks deep. His lips are stained purple. “I was searching for someone. But the labyrinth has a way of taking you in and never letting go. It is a dark place, a damned place. I find it's better to stay here, in the meadow, where I can always find the light.”

“What if you didn't have a choice?” I press on. “What if you had to go back?”

The faun king laughs heartily. I love the sound of it. “Eat, now. You must be famished.”

I
am
hungry. Who knows when we'll have food again on the rest of our journey? But there's something wrong about the roasted chicken in front of me—the skin is perfectly crispy. The potatoes are soft and smothered in rosemary and sea salt. It's just the way I like it. But when I lean forward, I don't smell the rich spices.

I smell dirt.

The magic within me stirs. I press my hand over my racing heart. I've used more magic since we arrived than I have my whole life. I can feel my power getting restless, as if it had a taste of freedom and it won't be caged again.

“Your power is calling to the meadow,” Agosto says.

How does he know that? “Do you have magic?”

He turns his head from side to side. “Once. It was taken from me.”

“By who?”

“My brother, the Bastard King of Adas. The last great thing I could do for my people was find them a new home.” He pats my hand gently with his. “There's so much I wish I could do for them still—so much I'm willing to do.”

I take Agosto's hand and squeeze. I can't imagine that an immortal being such as him needs the comfort of a girl like me, but I know his pain. The feeling stirs inside of me until I start to feel like I'll come undone.

“Excuse me,” I say, standing from the table.

“Wait.” Agosto takes my hand in his. Despite his calluses and scars, his touch is surprisingly soft. For a moment, I pretend he's someone else. I look down the table, and the thought startles me so that I pull away.

“I'm just getting a little warm in the sun,” I assure him.

He kisses the back of my hand. “Don't go too far. It isn't safe out there.”

The sound of a snake hissing follows me as I walk away. When I turn around, Rodriga is leaning over Agosto's arm, vying for his attention. She waves her arms in the air, but all he does is look into his wine goblet.

I start to walk down the table to Nova, but he's on his second steak, and I've already forgotten what I wanted to ask him. Where are my thoughts going? It's like Rishi said. They fell out of her head.

I walk to the edge of the meadow to find some shade. My stomach contracts painfully. I sit down and hit my head against the bark of the tree. Can it be that I've resisted my magic for so long that I simply just can't recognize the difference between a stomachache and my own power?

“Lula,” I say. “I really need you to come back.”

It isn't Lula who appears. It's my mother. Right in the middle of the field. Her hair is still haloed by bright-red flowers that match her lips. Her white dress is stained with dirt.

I jump up to my feet. I need to run to her. I need her to forgive me. Need her to tell me I'm going the right way. I need my mom.

Just like Lula's apparition, my mom flickers. Unlike Lula, she doesn't stay. I run to her open arms but a shadow appears behind her. I can hear her shout my name once before she vanishes. My shaking hands close around air, and I can feel the magic pounding up from the pit of my belly.
That's my magic
.

And it wants out. I listen to the heartbeat of the ground. It whispers a welcome. My magic builds in me like a song, and I let it play along my skin.

Listen
, the little voice tells me.

What am I listening for? There is only a meadow full of laughter and cheer.

Look
, the little voice says.

What am I looking for? There are my friends and the adas. There was a woman there. She was wearing roses. I felt like I knew her. I felt like…

“Encantrix.” Agosto calls for me, walking on powerful hooves. He takes my hand and helps me stand. As the sun and moon set, the meadow is bathed in firelight. “Are you well?”

“I'm better than well,” I say.

“I wanted to give you one last gift before you carry on with your journey.”

He hands me a wine goblet and offers me his arm. This time the wine isn't bitter, and the roses coat my senses.
Nothing coats the senses quite like roses
, someone said.

“Journey?” My thoughts drift away like clouds. “I wouldn't dream of going anywhere.”

The bleeding heart

cannot survive the night.

—Bleeding Heart, Herbs, and Flowers, Book of Cantos

The dark brings out its nocturnal critters—owls with glowing, red eyes. Marsupials scratching their way up trees. Fireflies by the hundreds. The sky is painted the deepest blue, moonless, sunless, and covered in shooting stars.

Every time I blink, I see something new. Agosto leads me back to the center of the meadow, where a white fire erupts. There's a great cheer, followed by music. A band of adas play instruments made of hollow branches and shimmering cobwebs. Agosto spins me in place, our fingers sparking with magic. Wine sloshes over the rim of my cup, and I bring my hand to my lips to lick every falling drop.

This
is what a party is supposed to feel like
, I think.

The Meadowkin and my friends gather around. Agosto bows in front of me and pulls me into a dance. I never dance. I never liked it before. A hazy memory sifts through my crowded thoughts: Lula and Rose dancing circles around me, too little and too happy to care about looking foolish. They would love this place. They would love to see me happy.

“There's somewhere I have to be,” I say.

“I will get you there,” Agosto tells me. His large hands close around my waist and lift me into the air. “But first, there is someone who wishes to dance with you.”

Agosto bows again, winking at someone behind me. He holds his palms out and a flute appears. It twists at the ends like vines of ivy and has dozens of little holes. He brings it to his wine-stained lips and blows. I can't imagine how something so delicate can make such a powerful sound, but it does.

“You owe me a dance,” Rishi says, tapping my shoulder.

My insides tickle, like the moment you plunge down a roller coaster. I walk around her in a circle. She rests one of her hands on her hip, her weight shifted to the side, all attitude. The gem of her nose ring winks at me from every angle. My little magpie.

“Would you accept a fairy fiesta to make up for the Ghoul Ball?” I hold out my hand. I've never felt this bold in my whole life. It's like the magic is pulling the strings and I'm just allowing it.

Rishi shrugs a shoulder playfully. Her black wing looses a handful of feathers. Something in my mind clicks, and I reach out with my power. Rishi gasps as the wings bind together, longer and fuller.

“Oh, Alex!” She spreads her arms wide and jumps on me.

I ignore the twinge in my spine where the recoil grips me like a vice. The throng of dancing Meadowkin spin and glide around us. It's a chaotic waltz, everyone moving together but separately around the flames.

Rishi twists her hands in the air. The long, dark waves of her hair sway over her shoulders. Her skirt billows when she spins, and when I look at her, I consider that magic can be a beautiful thing.

Overgrown dandelions perk up from the ground, like they wait for the cover of darkness before showing themselves. I reach for one. Hold it up to my lips and blow. The glowing white seeds disperse in tiny bursts of light.

“I could stay here forever,” I say. “My power feels different here. It feels
right
. I've never had that before.”

The music slows like a caress. Rishi takes my face in her hands. Her long, black lashes create spidery shadows down her cheeks. Her midnight eyes flick down to my lips, and when she sighs, I know she was eating peaches. My heartbeat multiplies, like there's a tiny heart at the end of all my fingers and toes, between my clavicles, inside my ears, and at the tip of my nose.

“Hey!” Nova's cheery, booming voice cuts across the meadow. He zigzags between the fairy people. He slings his arm around our necks.

Rishi's face scrunches up, irritated.

“Ladybird, where have you been?” He grabs me around my waist and lifts me into the air.

When he tries to go for Rishi, she spins around and says, “I'm going to get us more wine.”

“What's gotten into you?” I ask him.

Nova's
playful.
He pinches my cheek and seems to be dancing to a rhythm in his own head. In the firelight, his bipolar eyes look like they're glowing.

“Isn't this great?” he asks. “It's like Christmas dinner. Not at my house, but probably at your house. My Christmas dinner is a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. Some years, I put bacon on it. Maybe, if I wish it, the magic tree table will give it to me. I'll make one for you. It'll change your life. We can share with Rishi, but I don't think she likes me very much.”

“Pardon.” An ada with a blue face and silver hair bumps into Nova. She clutches her stomach and makes a run for the line of trees, a rank smell trailing behind her.

Look
, a little voice whispers in my ear.

I shut my eyes and try to focus. My mind feels like cotton. Cotton candy. Pretty cotton candy, pink and fluffy and melty on my tongue.

“Earth to Alex,” Nova says, squeezing my nose.

I slap his hand away. “What?”

“Look at me,” he says. Maybe Nova was the voice I heard just now. Maybe I'm imagining things. “Look at what the meadow is doing to me.”

Nova holds his arms out. The black burn marks I mistook for tattoos are changing. His glossy eyes are full of hope. “They're getting smaller. Can you believe that? This means I might have a chance.”

“What do you mean ‘a chance'?”

His smile falls, and he jerks back, like he can't believe he just said that. “I—I can't remember.”

Look harder!
the voice yells.

I whip around to search for the source when a cold splash hits my face. Red berry wine trickles down my neck. I wipe it out of my eyes and spit the droplets that make their way into my mouth.

The music dies, replaced by whispers. Hundreds of eyes turn to stare at me.

“What the hell was that?” Nova turns to Rodriga. The salamander girl throws her goblet on the ground.

I hold up my hand to Nova. This isn't his fight. It's mine.

“Come on, encantrix,” Rodriga says. “Let's see that power fly.”

“What's your problem?” A dark coil of energy wraps itself around me. I could unleash it. I could make her hurt.

“Your weakness. Your lies. Your fear. I could smell it on you before you entered the meadow. You get to sing and dance and fall in love, while the rest of us have to be
this
for eternity.”

My anger snaps like a whip around her throat. I can feel her struggle for breath. Her pulse slowing in my veins.

I gasp and let her go. This isn't me.

But it is
, the voice in my head whispers.

Rodriga coughs, managing a weak laugh. “Maybe there is hope yet.”

I grit my teeth and keep my fists balled at my sides. “Why can't magical people ever say what they really mean?”

“My Meadow King,” Rodriga hisses. Agosto is walking across the meadow. “I'm bound to him and the meadow. You don't belong here, wretched girl. Get out before it's too late.”

“But—”

“Rodriga!” Agosto shouts. His face is all shadows. His powerful, hoofed legs stomp across the meadow. His voice is a thunderclap. “I
warned
you.”

His fists hit her in the chest. She flies back and slams into a tree. The air around her splinters for the blink of an eye. She grabs her side and then slowly picks herself back up.

“Did you see that?” I whisper to Nova. Nova shakes his head. He holds his hand out, like he's telling me to keep whatever I've seen to myself.

Agosto's dark eyes trace the perimeter of the meadow, then fall back to me. “I am sorry if she has displeased you. Please, eat.”

Eat? How can I eat after this? At his command, dozens of adas run to the banquet table.

A fat bird with thorns coming out of his side lands on Agosto's shoulder. It squawks in his ear, but Agosto shows no sign that it bothers him.

“Excuse me,” Agosto says. He conjures his flute and begins to play. The notes sound rougher, deeper than before.

Despite the openness of the meadow, it starts to feel small, like the trees are encroaching. A shadow howls in the wind, sending shivers along my skin.
You don't belong here, wretched girl. Get out before it's too late.

Too late for what? My senses are groggy, like I'm waking from a long, long sleep. I know something isn't right, but part of me still wants to believe in the spell of the meadow. Spell.

It's all a spell.

Wretched girl.
That's what I am. That's why I'm here in the first place. A jolt runs through me like lightning. My mind clears, and all at once, I can see their faces—my family. My mother. My mother was
here
and I turned my back on her again.

Wretched girl.

Too late.

“We have to go,” I shout at Nova.

“Wait.” Nova presses his hand to his stomach and shakes his head. “I'm going to be sick.”

He doubles over and throws up at my feet. I rub his back until he stops. I try to help him stand, but his knees give out and we fall on the grass.

“I can't,” he cries.

“I'm going to get Rishi. Wait here.”

I search for her in the clusters of adas but can't find her. The stench of rotting fruit is overwhelming. When I look down at the banquet table, all I see is moldy bread and fruits cracked open like skulls. Feverish fingers scoop the sloppy meat down their gullets. Fat tears run down their faces as they binge on the rotten feast. All the while, the music plays on. The adas stomp their hooves, claws, and feet to the rhythm of the flute and the strum of golden strings.

“Rishi!” I scream for her.

Rodriga's words start to make sense. I fell for the spell of the meadow.
We have to be
this
for eternity.

Then I see her.

Panic rushes through me as Rishi extends her arm to a fairy girl. The acrid smell of rot and bodily waste makes my head spin.
Look twice.

The bracelet in the ada's hand changes, and I see it for what it really is.

I break into a run, but I know I won't make it in time. I hold my arms out and blast a shot of raw power at the ada. She flies back into an invisible barrier between two oak trees. The air fractures like a crack in a windowpane. Her bracelets are replaced by rusty manacles.

Blink.
The glamour returns and they're bracelets again.

Blink.
I can see the adas for what they truly are—gaunt, thin, wrinkled. I wave my hand over the banquet table and find the glamour. I tear it down so the table reveals itself to all. The creatures wail and scream and cry. Nova squeezes his temples with his palms. Rishi gets on the ground and heaves.

“No!” The adas turn away from the banquet. “We cannot see! We cannot see!”

The table is nothing but rotting wood, the plates of rank food covered in slick, fat maggots.

The flute in Agosto's hands disappears.

“You keep them here,” I tell him. “Why?”

The faun ambles toward me. His muscles ripple in the break-of-day light. The Meadowkin behind him cower.

“Is that what you see?” Agosto asks me. He is no longer the wild king of the forest I first saw. It's as if all the wonder and hope has drained from his voice.

“You said you brought your people here for a better life, but you're torturing them!”

Agosto tries to grab for me, to stop me, but I smack away his touch. My magic collides with him. He's glamoured too. I can feel the magic around his aura. He shakes his head, but I've already gone too far. I break away his facade, revealing the shackles around his own wrists. The chain drags from the roots of the tree at the center of the meadow. Agosto sinks to his knees, like the weight of his horns is too much.

“Encantrix,” he says. “I'm trying to save us all.”

“By trapping me here?”

“I had no choice. She instructed us to keep you here. The way you saw the meadow when you arrived—that is how we used to be. Before we defied her. Before we lost. She will come for you. She will take everything you love. Your power can change everything. Your power—”

Agosto snaps his head toward the hiss coming from the trees. The winds change, bringing a terrible cold with them. Shadows whisper in my ears.

“She is coming.” Agosto jumps to his hooves and grabs me by the shoulders, pushing me to the border of the meadow. “Run to the Wastelands. Just run!”

“I can't leave without them!” I try to shove the faun out of my way but he's too solid. I scream for Nova and Rishi, but they're too sick to understand, eyes glazed and smiles plastered on their faces. They don't know we're in danger. They stumble in my direction, listening to the ghost of the adas' songs.

“Fix them,” I tell Agosto.

He shakes his head. “The only way is to purge the poison.”

“Poison?”

I grab Rishi's arm first and wrap it around my shoulder. I turn and Nova trips over his own feet. I can carry one, but not the other.

A collective gasp falls across the meadow. The adas retreat, the same way they appeared, into nothingness.
Blink.
They're gone.

“I told you,” Rodriga hisses, her salamander skin changing to solid black as she gets on her knees, bowing to the shadow that cyclones at the center of the field.

I beg Nova to get up. I beg Rishi to run, but I'm losing them. Fear slithers into my body, pushing away at my magic. I can feel my power recoiling, hiding in the comfortable place I've always kept it.

“Agosto, help me!”

He can't. He's on his knees, hands splayed forward in submission as the great black cloud takes shape. Shadows curl like tentacles around a figure cloaked in a bloodred dress. The material hugs her like death, and a helmet of bone and metal hides her face.

She takes small steps, practically walking on air, and stops where Agosto is crouched. “You never learn, do you?”