The Boy with the Hidden Name (14 page)

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I can and then pull it back into a ponytail. The dress Ben’s

mother has brought for me is a bright springtime yellow; it

reminds me of chicks and corn and sun. All the dresses I’ve

seen here have been sunny colors— I wonder if that’s a conse-

quence of being stuck underground. And I wonder why Ben’s

coat is so full of night by contrast.

I look at myself in the mirror. My white- blond hair doesn’t

darken much when wet, but at least it stays back, no wisps

escaping around my face. The yellow dress isn’t really my

preferred color— I like to wear shades of blue to match my

eyes— but it fits me beautifully. Probably an enchantment.

I step out into Ben’s room. He is wearing his usual layers to

try to protect him from ever being wet ever— Ben is actually

allergic to water, which sounds weird but makes total sense

when you’re a faerie. This time, the layers are a deep laven-

der polo shirt and, peeking out underneath, a tangerine-

colored T- shirt.

“Ready?” he asks.

“You’re not wearing your coat?” I say to him, dropping my

clothes in a heap on the chair.

“I hate that coat,” he replies.

“It might make your mother happy if you wear it.”

“That’s a quaint notion,” Ben remarks, and his eyes linger

on the coat. “I don’t like the coat. It makes me feel…I’m not

wearing the coat.” He turns determinedly toward the door

and tugs it open.

“Should I wear my sweatshirt?” I ask, and I sound almost shy.

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Ben pauses and looks back at me. “I don’t know,” he answers

evenly. “Should you? That’s your decision.”

I hesitate then I pull it over my head, and I try not to ana-

lyze my motives for doing so.

The hallway is very dark after the brightness of Ben’s room.

“If they can enchant sunlight,” I ask Ben, “why don’t they

enchant this whole place?”

“
They
can’t enchant sunlight,” he responds as we walk

swiftly down the hallway. “My mother can. This way.” He

pulls me through an open archway that appears to our right,

and all of a sudden we are in a vast banquet hall. The ceiling

soars over our head, with dark chandeliers dripping from it.

The table is made of stone, as are the chairs, and everything

seems rough and uncomfortable and barely serviceable. The

table is crowded with faeries in bright clothing, tearing into

food with loud enthusiasm. There is a large cluster that is

laughing raucously to one side, and the Erlking appears to be

in the middle of that, telling a story that apparently requires

many hand gestures, not all of them respectable.

It is easy to locate Will and Safford and Kelsey; they are

the silent, still ones who are watching the proceedings with a

slight frown. And next to them, at the very head of the table,

sits Ben’s mother.

She rises as we approach. “Ah, there you are,” she says in

welcome. “Don’t you look lovely,” she purrs at me and then

frowns a bit at Ben. “You didn’t wear your coat.”

“Maybe next time,” Ben responds lightly and sits down.

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I sit opposite him, and food appears on our plates. Fruit. I

was looking forward to something more substantial, but fruit

will definitely do.

Kelsey, beside me, has already stripped her bunch of grapes

clean. She is dressed in pale pink, the color of a barely there

sunrise. Her long blond hair, like mine, is pulled back into a

wet ponytail.

“There was nothing else I could do, so I figured I’d take a

shower,” she says to me.

“I had the exact same thought,” I agree. “So have we…?”

I make a gesture that I hope can be interpreted as
asked

Ben’s mother the important question and gotten the answer

and gotten out of here
and pop a grape in my mouth. It tastes like soda.

Kelsey shakes her head a little bit.

I look beyond Kelsey to the rest of the table. It is almost

exactly the way dinner used to be in the Seelie Court, loud

and disorganized, with wine freely flowing. The Erlking

seems to be a much greater attraction than any of the other

Unseelies; most of them are hanging on his every word. He

is still telling a story, although he keeps pausing now to take

sips from the spout of a small teapot he is holding.

I turn back to my plate. There is now cheese on it as well,

and I take an experimental nibble of it. Coffee.

“Perhaps,” says Ben’s mother, “you are interested in the his-

tory of the Unseelie Court.”

“Actually,” I say, because it’s time to get this show on the

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road— I have no idea what time the Erlking’s pocket watch

reads now. “We’re looking for the other fays that you hid.”

“We are all of us misfits here,” says Ben’s mother as if I

haven’t spoken at all, “cast out by the Seelies in their capri-

cious rule. We welcome all who come to our door.”

Will, who is sitting beside Ben across from me, looks at

Ben’s mother with his eyebrows raised.

“You disagree, Mr. Blaxton?” asks Ben’s mother scathingly.

“Not at all,” replies Will in a silky tone that means just the

opposite. He holds Ben’s mother’s gaze and sits back in his

chair, sipping his wine.

Ben’s mother continues, her voice brittle now and her

hands tight around her rough tin fork and knife. “It is hard

for us, cast out, here below. We are creatures who crave the

light. If the eternal darkness sometimes drives us to actions

that are, shall we say, questionable, who can condemn us,

living a life so contrary to our natures?”

I pick up one of the tin knives and slip it into my pocket.

The last knife I took came in handy.

“Who indeed?” Will responds and raises his glass in a little

toast. I know it is mocking, but it is mocking under the sur-

face. Outwardly he is nothing but calm respect.

“We really need to know about the fays,” I insist. “The ones

you hid. If you could try to remember— ”

“As if I would forget!” she scoffs at me. “I am famous for

my remembering.”

“Then maybe— ”

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“If it was time for the prophecy to be fulfilled, then the fays

would have assembled together. If you are still all alone, then

it is not time.”

“It
is
time,” says Will. “The clocks are ticking.”

“That is not my concern. I do not establish the time,

Mr. Blaxton.”

“Don’t you want to help us?” I ask desperately. “Isn’t that

why you hid the fays? Because you want to help us fulfill

the prophecy?”

“Do you know about the prophecy, little fay?” she asks

me, sounding half- amused and half- dismissive of how stupid

I am.

“Yes,” I say stubbornly. “I know all about it.” I try to pretend that means I’m also going to know what I can do to fulfill it.

“You do not. Because if you knew about the prophecy, then

you would know that I didn’t necessarily hide the fays because

I wanted them to overthrow the Seelie Court. There is a war-

ring prophecy. Did you not tell her this, Mr. Blaxton?”

I look at Will, confused.

Will says, “There is always a warring prophecy. It doesn’t

matter.”

“Oh, but it does. The prophecy you want to fulfill is the

overthrow of the Seelie
and
the Unseelie Courts. Does it seem likely that I wish that prophecy fulfilled, given the home I

have found here?”

I feel cold, because now that she mentions it, that doesn’t

seem likely. “What’s the warring prophecy?”

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“That one of the fays would go to the Isle of Avalon and

consolidate Seelie power forever.”

Which was why I had been wanted in the Seelie Court, I

remember. Why I wasn’t named immediately.

“So you want that prophecy to be fulfilled?” I say, because

that doesn’t make sense to me either.

“I don’t want any prophecies to come into play at all. I like

the status quo. I’ve done quite well for myself with the status

quo. Why should I introduce interfering fays who don’t

know what they’re doing into the equation? You know just

enough to destroy everything. So I hid the others. You slipped

through my fingers and fell to my son, who has all sorts of

interesting thoughts about power in the Otherworld. Really,

he and I have just
begun
to explore the wonder of his politics.

As for the other three fays, if your prophecy was really meant

to be fulfilled, you’d have found them already. After all, don’t you, little fay, have a habit of collecting exactly what you

need?” She leans toward me, her eyes flashing. She has eyes

that at first glance are like Ben’s, a swirl of pale impressions of color, but as they slice into me, icy silver, I realize that they are not at all like Ben’s.

And that makes me angry.
I
am
so
tired
of
being
betrayed
by
faeries
, I think.

“So you’re not going to help us?” I demand.

“
Help
you? How quaint that you thought I ever was. How

very
human
of you, really.” She looks to Will and Ben. Will is frowning at her, but Ben is staring at the food in front of him, 120

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his face a mask. “That is your fault, you know. The two of you

hid her too well. She is unused to such delicate and intricate

creatures as we. We are not your usual coarse ogres or goblins.”

I take offense at the ogre dig, but Ben’s mother is no longer

looking at me. Her focus seems to have shifted to the Erlking

down the table. The rest of us glance at the Erlking as well.

As if sensing all of us, he looks up and winks in our direction.

“He’s insufferable,” proclaims Ben’s mother.

“Isn’t he just?” Will agrees, studying his wine. He is no

longer frowning. In fact, he looks very calm and at ease.

Ben’s mother rises suddenly, startling me, and I think that

she is going to do something to Will. I tense for it, but she

merely sweeps by us and then settles next to the Erlking, lis-

tening as raptly as the rest of the other Unseelies.

“Insufferable,” Will murmurs at his wine, “but so very

useful to have around.” He takes a sip. “A creature whose

talent is seduction.”

“Well, now he’s just showing off,” comments Kelsey.

I glance back over at the Erlking, who appears to be on the

verge of outright making out with one of the male Unseelies.

“How did he get involved?” Ben asks. He sounds impatient

and annoyed.

“He’s a friend of Will’s,” Kelsey answers.

“
Will
,” says Ben. “Are we never going to come to the end

of your conquests?”

Kelsey and I both look from the Erlking, murmuring now

in Ben’s mother’s ear, to Will.

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“He— I— It’s— ” Will stammers. “He’s
very
good at—

Never mind.” Will clears his throat and puts his wineglass

on the table. “He got us into the Unseelie Court, didn’t he?

And he’s got everyone distracted. Enough that I’ve got their

listening charms blocked and they haven’t noticed. So let’s

stop talking about the Erlking and start focusing on the fact

that we need to get out of here.
All
of us.” He looks at Ben meaningfully, the emphasis not subtle. Ben doesn’t protest

that he’s coming with us, and I can’t tell if I’m surprised or

not. I thought before that maybe this had all been a happy

reunion for him, but it doesn’t seem like it is now. “So how

are we doing it?” asks Will.

“I don’t know,” Ben says. “I don’t even understand how you

got in here.”

“We
walked
,” Will informs him flatly. He seems to be

losing his patience.

“Then I would suggest you try walking
out
,” remarks Ben.

“That’s your plan? We just get up and start walking?”

drawls Will.

“I don’t have a plan,” Ben snaps at him. “I don’t have a plan

for
this
. None of you were ever supposed to be here. You’re the ones who showed up. No one asked you to come. I was

perfectly fine.”

“We need you for the prophecy, Benedict,” Will clips out

at him. “And the Seelies are closing in. We don’t have time

to sit around waiting for you to be done with your foolish,

headstrong
lark
.”

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“I don’t understand why the prophecy can’t be fulfilled

without me. What more can I do? I kept a fay safe for as long