Moon Spun (23 page)

362

“Ah, the poor lad fell and injured his head in the melee caused by your pixie,” Phaedra informed Melia who snorted in disgust. “Oleander, go to him at once.”

The princess, looking stricken, glided down the stairs to Ryker. Phaedra said, “Have no fear, Oleander and I will care for the Love Talker. Since we have great fondness for him, he will be coddled and cosseted. He is a privileged member of the Unseelie Court.”

Coddled and cosseted? Sounded highly unprofessional to me.

Somewhat mollified, Melia said, “Now, order the guards to release my granddaughter. I want her by my side as we negotiate the return of my folk.”

I almost laughed. Negotiate? Is that what she was doing?

With a mirthless chuckle, Phaedra said, “Dear sister, I’m afraid that is not possible.” She snapped her fingers. Two faeries with curved horns and goat-like faces ran to her side. “Take the forest queen to my guest quarters.” The goat things grabbed Melia’s arms and marched her away. Phaedra called after her, “Don’t worry about Avalon. She will come to no harm while in my care.”

I said, “I can take care of myself.”

Phaedra ordered, “Guards, take her to the kitchen. It’s time Avalon met her many cousins.”

363

Chapter Twenty Eight

The toads marched me through a side door and into a long, cave-like corridor. Dim light flickered from candles widely spaced along the wall. A few steps away from each candle, the light disappeared completely. Totally creepy. I shivered as icy water dripped from the ceiling and ran down my neck. The flapping feet of my toadling guards was the only sound.. Courage, Avalon. I placed one hand protectively over the pouch. The pixies, thank God, remained silent. What a stroke of luck Phaedra had not seen the moon missiles. If she had, the pouch and pixies would be gone. My camouflaged pouch was part and parcel of my bizarre apple tree outfit. Nobody had even noticed it. Chalk one up for Melia.

The corridor curved to the right, and we halted next to small wooden door. One of the toadlings pulled out a large key ring. He held the jumble of keys next to the flickering candle light, searching for the right one, not an easy job when you have teensy arms and claw hands. It took so long, I felt like snatching the key ring away from him and doing it myself.

Finally, the guard fitted one of the old-fashioned keys into the lock and twisted. Wrong key. The other toadlings muttered and fussed while he tried another. Then another. After the fourth try, he found the right one. The door swung open and the guard pushed me through. The room smelled like rotted meat, the odor so foul I gagged and almost lost what little food was in my stomach. I heard the key turning in the lock. The finality of that sound made my heart stutter in my chest. What did you expect, Allie? A suite overlooking the moat? Room service with your very own dark fae server?

I took a cautious step into the long, narrow kitchen, peering through the dim light for signs of life. Where were all the cousins Phaedra mentioned? A huge fireplace dominated one wall. Rubbing my arms and shivering, I crept closer to the fire, hoping to banish the chill that had seeped into my bones. I patted the pouch, hoping the pixies were okay. Until I knew who or what I was dealing with, there they would stay.

Somehow, I sensed the presence of others. It’s hard to explain, but the room just didn’t feel empty. I peered through the gloom. “Hello? I’m Allie. Actually, I’m Melia’s granddaughter. You may know me as Avalon.”

“Princess Avalon!” A chorus of voices.

Dark shapes appeared, moving away from the walls and popping out from beneath the long wooden tables that extended beyond the light.

“Light the candles.” A woman’s voice.

I heard the rustle of movement. A small form crouched next to the fireplace, followed by two others. Each one held a candle to the flame. When the candles caught fire, the three scurried away from the hearth and lit every candle in the kitchen, illuminating all but the dark corners. What I saw fairly broke my heart. The folk stepping from the shadows looked much like Melia. Dark, tangled hair. Forest green eyes. Delicate, fine boned features.

There was one major difference, though. These people had been starved. Hollow eyed and painfully thin, their skin was the palest shade of green and stretched tightly over too prominent bones. In my world history class, I’d seen pictures of the Holocaust survivors. The fae locked in Phaedra’s kitchen had the same emaciated appearance.

A woman with a streak of white in her dark hair stepped forward. She took my hands. “I am Delphine, the mother of Hawk. The forest faeries welcome you, Princess Avalon. Do you bring news 364

of our queen?”

Over a dozen forest faeries crowded around Delphine, anxiously awaiting my answer. When I finally found my voice, I said, “Yes, Melia is here. At this moment, she is meeting with Phaedra to negotiate your freedom.”

The forest fae cheered and clapped, their faces wreathed in smiles. I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth, that the bickering queens seemed more interested in besting each other than working on a real solution. Melia’s people desperately needed hope. Delphine pulled me over to a wooden bench next to the fireplace. A few more fae crept out of the shadows to join us.

“How many of Melia’s folk remain?” I asked.

Delphine compressed her lips and shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was tremulous.

“Many have died of starvation.”

“But, you’re locked in the kitchen. Surely there’s food here.”

Delphine shuddered. “We provide the labor to prepare the meals for the dark queen’s court. Raw meat. Food boiled in blood. Forest faeries cannot survive on such things. The nuts and berries we require for health are doled out sparingly. What little food we get goes to the children.”

“Children?” So far, I’d seen only adult forest faeries.

Delphine clapped her hands. “Children! You may come out now.”

Six children filed out from behind a large wooden sideboard, lined up according to size. The tallest boy stood at the head of the line. He was followed by a boy and girl a tad bit shorter. Smaller still, another boy. The last little girl held the hand of a chubby toddler. They approached cautiously, their eyes bright with curiosity. Fae parents, their faces alight with pride, held out their arms to embrace their children. I tried to swallow a huge lump in my throat.

“Hey! What’s happening?” The pixie’s shrill voices were muffled but unmistakably annoyed. Quickly, I unzipped the pouch. Maddie and Ari popped out, fluffed their wings and flew to my outstretched hand.

Cries of delight echoed through the kitchen as the faeries crowded in for a closer look. “Can it be? Hedgerow pixies! Fly to me, little pixie.”

Ari put her hands on her hips and frowned up at me. “They look hungry. Will they eat Ari and Maddie?”

I glanced at Delphine. “Are the pixies safe here?”

Delphine’s eyes filled with tears. She held out a trembling hand. “Come to me, little ones. We would never harm you. The very sight of you brings us hope. We will protect you with our lives.”

We were treated to one of Ari’s rare smiles. She pushed off my hand and flew to Delphine. Hovering in the air, she used her purple cape to wipe away Delphine’s tears.

“Ari doesn’t want Delphine to cry. Stop now, please.” The pixie touched down on Delphine’s shoulder. Maddie zipped over to the toddler who clapped his hands and laughed out loud. The crowd murmured its approval.

Right on cue, my stomach growled ferociously. I pulled a bottle of water from the pouch, popped the lid and drank a few gulps. No way would I eat granola bars in front of Melia’s starving people. I pulled them out and handed them to Delphine.

“It’s not much, but they’re made of oats and nuts. I want you to have them.”

Delphine shook her head. “No, you eat them. ‘Tis not safe for you to eat the food here.”

“Not hungry.” I placed the three granola bars in her hand. Once again, tears sprung to her eyes. I had to fight back my own tears when she carefully divided the granola bars into tiny bites to make sure everyone got a taste. I thought about the refrigerator in our trailer. Faye and I were far from rich, 365

but we always had plenty to eat.

“Let us thank the Princess Avalon for her generosity,” Delphine said. Each one of the forest faeries took my hand, touched it to their foreheads and murmured, “Many thanks, Princess Avalon.”

It was hard to believe such a simple gesture—giving the folk a miniscule bite of oats and nuts—

would lead to such an outpouring of thanks. With each gentle touch, I felt something pass between us, as if their blood spoke to mine. Maybe the faery part of me, lying dormant all these years, had sparked to life. The reason didn’t matter. When I saw the gratitude in the hollow eyes of Melia’s folk, when I realized how they’d sacrificed for their children, I was filled with a resolve so powerful, it swept through my body like wildfire. I would do everything I could to free my new friends or die trying.

Several hours passed. Of course, we were on faery time, so it may have been two days. We clustered close to the fireplace, and I filled them in on Melia’s plan. I left out a few things, like Melia’s belief I could save everyone’s butt by using the moonstone.

“What of Hawk?” Delphine asked. “What role does he play?”

“I’m here because of your son.” I described how he’d come to the mortal world as Ryker Matheson, an emissary from Melia. I didn’t tell her about his recent injury and the dark queen’s offer of coddling and cosseting.

Delphine swelled with pride. “Hawk was ever one of Phaedra’s favorites. His charm comes from his father.”

“Oh yes, the Love Talker,” I said.

Her eyes went all dreamy and she sighed.

Finally, one of the little girls asked the question I’d been dreading. “Exactly how will Melia free us?”

I sounded like a sleazy politician when I said, “She’s meeting with Phaedra to work out the details of your release.” Truth be known, the two were probably pulling out each others’ hair. The girl narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Before she could question me further, the littlest faery toddled up to me and patted his chubby hands on my knees. When I looked him over, my mouth fell open. This kid was no faery. His skin had no trace of green. He had rosy cheeks and silky black hair. His eyes were of the palest shade of blue. Exactly like . . .

“Chadwicke,” a woman called. “Don’t bother the Princess Avalon.”

Chadwicke? Chad? No way! Chad Hostetler was ten years old. This little guy couldn’t have been more than two. Okay, I was no expert, but wouldn’t the mortal child be the same age as Chad, the changeling?

I plucked at Delphine’s sleeve and whispered, “I need to ask you something, away from the others.”

We stepped away from the fireplace. Delphine said, “What troubles you, Avalon? “

“Chadwicke. He’s mortal.”

Delphine smiled. “Ah, I wondered if you would notice.”

Since it would be rude to say, “You’re green and he isn’t,” I said, “In Boundland, I take care of a ten-year-old boy. His name is Chad who claims he’s a changeling.”

Delphine’s eyes lit up and she gasped. “He is alive?”

I shook my head. “We can’t be talking about the same kid. Like I said, my Chad is ten. ”

Delphine took my hand and looked into my eyes. “In Boundless, we love babies and keep them 366

that way as long as possible.”

“So, it’s the whole faery time versus mortal time thing.”

“Exactly.”

Ryker’s plan to exchange the two just got trashed. “Why was my Chad left in Boundland?”

Delphine pulled me farther away from the others and lowered her voice. “It’s a sad story,” she began. ““Eve was seduced by a pooka named Nuggle. It was a mixed marriage. When the baby was born, he was undersized and sickly. While Eve slept, Nuggle took the fae child to Boundland and stole a human baby. Eve never forgave him.”

“Did Nuggle have wings?” So far, I hadn’t seen a single forest faery with wings.

“Oh my, yes,” Delphine said. “Large, frilly wings.”

“What happened to Nuggle?”

Delphine sighed. “He flew away when he fell into disfavor with Eve.”

My gaze swept over the faeries huddled together in front of the fire. So far, I’d seen a number of different folk caring for Chadwicke. I was beginning to get a bad feeling. “Which one is Eve?”

Delphine’s eyes welled with tears. “Eve was the first to die. She gave her food to the child.”

I glanced over at the healthy little boy, squealing joyfully as he watched the pixies’ antics. What would happen to him when the faery folk who took turns caring for him, were dead of starvation?

I had to do something. Melia claimed I could summon Luminata if we needed her. It was time to find out.

367

Chapter Twenty Nine

Delphine went back to the fire. Clutching the moonstone, I stepped into the shadows, trying to decide what to do next. With a little help from my friends, I’d learned three of the moonstone’s secrets. But could I summon Luminata, aka The Good Mother? It was trial and error time. Scary, considering I didn’t have a clue how the moonstone’s other settings functioned. For all I knew, one wrong move might turn us all into cockroaches.

Courage, Avalon. I gulped and turned the moonstone four clicks, the next setting after the one I used to stop time . Slammed by a wave of dizziness, I leaned against the wall to keep from falling down. When my vision cleared, I looked around for Luminata. No such luck. The forest faeries were still huddled in front of the fire. The pixies, thrilled to be out of my pouch, were zipping around and basking in all the attention.

“Excuse me, miss!”

The voice was deep and resonant, as if the speaker might be the host of a TV game show. I pushed away from the wall and looked around.

“Up here.” The voice came from above me.

I looked up. A ginormous black spider with fuzzy legs like a tarantula was dangling from the ceiling, just inches from my face.

I leapt sideways and screeched, “Ohmygod, itsa, itsa . . . ” When I was finally able to speak, I pointed at the thing and stuttered, “Humongous spider! It-it was right over my head. It-it almost bit me. It . . . ”