Wishes and Wings (2 page)

Their big wooden plates and cups were heavy, though, so they were in strong willow baskets tied to the sides of the carts.

They had packed their precious glass jam jars too.

Alida remembered them from when she was little.

They had only thirty of them, a gift from a human farmer's wife long ago.

Alida fidgeted, watching her sister peer into one of the carts, checking her harp.

All the faerie instruments had been wrapped in soft quilts, then packed very carefully.

Alida wished they could play music as they traveled.

It had always lifted everyone's heart.

But she knew it wouldn't be safe.

Someone might hear the music—and they had to stay hidden.

Alida's mother had explained it to everyone the night before.

If Lord Dunraven was looking for them, he would almost certainly expect them to go deeper into the woods to hide.

He might think they would go as far as Lord Ermaedith's lands or even farther.

The
last
place he would expect them to go was the meadow he knew about—the one faeries had lived in for thousands of years.

That meadow was barely a two-day walk from the village of Ash Grove.

And Ash Grove was only a three day journey from Dunraven's castle.

Thinking about it like that made Alida feel cold and shaky.

Then she heard her mother's voice, clear and strong.

“Parents will carry their babies,” her mother was saying. “Anyone who needs help will get it. The elder faeries can take turns riding in the cart with benches. Our oldest children will be leading the milk cows. We have brought flasks of rainwater. Use it sparingly, and we might not have to drink from streams.”

When she finished, there were many questions. Once she had answered them, she looked at Alida's father.

He stepped forward. “Anyone who needs anything can ask me. I will walk last in line, to make sure no one gets lost or left behind.”

Alida saw everyone nodding, getting used to the idea that they would be
walking
.

They all could have flown, of course.

They could have carried everything through the air, including the elders and the babies—even the goats and cows. But Lord Dunraven and his guards were always prowling, watching the roads and the sky. So the faeries would use mostly the narrow, hidden paths the deer and the wolves used.

The cows and goats could graze along the way. The faeries would be able to pick wildflowers to eat and her mother had brought cheese for Gavin.

He had offered to walk ahead of them where they were most likely to see humans. Alida watched him. He was smiling, nodding at something someone had said. The faeries had been scared of him at first. Some of them had never seen a human. Now they understood why he was Alida's best friend.

His grandmother lived in Ash Grove with her oldest friend, Ruth Oakes. They were both kind and brave, and without them Alida might never have found her family.

“Are you all ready to begin our journey?” Alida's mother called out.

“Yes!” the faeries shouted.

Most of them, anyway.

Now that the time had come, the ones who weren't sure were grumbling. One of Alida's oldest uncles was frowning. But when Alida's mother began to walk, everyone followed.

2

A
t first Alida's mother walked at a slow, steady pace, glancing back again and again.

Once everyone was moving steadily through the trees, Alida went to walk beside her.

“Are you all right?” her mother asked.

“I'm a little scared,” Alida said. “Why would old Lord Dunraven make such a terrible law?”

Her mother shrugged. “Your aunt Clare always says he thought daydreaming about magic and storytelling wasted time that would be better spent working. But humans and faeries are alike when it comes to that. Without stories and a little magic, we aren't happy.”

Alida nodded. “The day I walked through Ash
Grove, I tied my shawl tight over my wings. I was trying so hard to look like a human girl. At first I thought someone might ask if I needed help. But no one did. They all looked tired and angry.”

“The human farmers always had to give part of their crops to the Dunravens,” her mother said. “We used to see the big, creaking wagons carrying off barley, wheat, oats, field crops of every kind—even cheese and eggs—all to feed the castle guards. I'm sure it's even worse now.”

Alida nodded. It probably was.

Lord Dunraven had hundreds of guards now.

She walked in silence for a while, thinking about old Lord Dunraven, and his sons and grandsons and great-grandsons.

It all seemed so unfair.

“Before the law,” her mother said quietly, “Lord Dunraven's guards would ride through the forests sometimes. But there weren't many of them, and the faeries weren't afraid of them.”

That was hard for Alida to imagine.

Everyone was afraid of the guards now.

“When I was your age,” her mother said, “there were guards visiting us when a flight of dragons flew over. We all stood there, humans and faeries, amazed by how beautiful they were.”

“Are they dangerous?” Alida asked.

Her mother glanced at her. “The guards? Not then. They are now.”

Alida shook her head. “I meant the dragons.”

“Very dangerous,” her mother said. “But only if something bothers them or scares them.”

“And the unicorns?” Alida asked.

Her mother smiled. “Unicorns are kind and shy. I have never understood why the Dunravens would hunt them.”

“How many Lord Dunravens have there been?” Alida asked.

Her mother glanced at the carts before she answered. “Twenty or more? I don't know. Some
were much better than others.” She leaned close to kiss Alida on the forehead. “But there have been more than a thousand faerie queens. And I am coming to believe that you will be the next one. Just keep walking,” she said. “I'll hurry.”

Then she spread her wings and flew, very low, all the way to the end of the line, where Gavin was helping one of her aunts lift something into a cart while it rolled along. Alida's sister, Terra, was carrying a baby, and she was smiling. If she was scared, it didn't show.

Alida kept her pace the same, thinking about what her mother had said. It felt very odd to be the one leading the way. She kept glancing back at her parents, her family, all her relatives and friends. She was so grateful to be with them again. Gavin, his grandmother, Molly Hamilton, Ruth Oakes, and John the stableman who had been the one to take her to Lord Dunraven's castle—they had all helped to free her.

“Some of the elders are having a hard time keeping up,” her mother said when she came back. “Your aunt Lily is complaining already.”

Alida nodded to be polite, then she made sure no one was close. “I have a question,” she said quietly.

Her mother looked at her. “Yes?”

“There's a man named John at Lord Dunraven's castle,” Alida began. “He was old when he took me there, and he looked the same when he helped me escape. Can humans live that long?”

“No,” Alida's mother said. “But John is not human.”

“But he doesn't have wings, and he—”

“He gave up his wings,” her mother said. “In order to stay at the castle, to make sure you were not hurt.”

Alida stared at her mother. “He's a faerie?”

“Yes.”

Alida was astonished. John looked like any human.

“He wished his wings away,” her mother said. “And he wished himself taller. He's very good with
horses, so he found work in the castle stable. He did it for me. To keep an eye on you.”

Alida didn't know what to say.

Her mother sighed. “John used big, dangerous magic to make himself look human. I don't think he could get his wings back now.”

Alida couldn't imagine not having wings.

Her mother touched her cheek. “John is clever. Most of the castle positions are passed from father to son, and the Dunravens never set foot in the barn. So he is safe. He hires the stablemen, and he makes sure none stays long enough to wonder how old he is.”

Alida's heart was heavy. When she looked up, her mother was watching her.

“Being the queen is not easy,” she said.

The first day of traveling was a little disorganized.

The goats weren't used to pulling carts.

The older faeries complained about walking.

By midday, the goats and the cows had calmed. But the youngest faeries hadn't.

They kept forgetting to be quiet. The older faeries shushed them at first, as if Lord Dunraven's guards were behind every tree they passed. But as the day went on, they began to chat, to point out patches of wildflowers to one another.

Alida's mother didn't stop until it was nearly dark.

When she did, most of the faeries lifted their hands and made balls of faerie light so that they could see to unpack what they needed for supper and sleep.

Alida's mother sent her around the clearing at a run to remind them that light could give them away. The faeries looked startled, then apologetic.

Soon the meadow was dusky again, with just a few dim lights floating over the carts.

And as soon as the faeries had eaten the flowers they had gathered along the way, everyone got ready for sleep.

Alida's parents and two of her cousins passed out blankets. The faerie babies were settled for the night, and the lights went out one by one.

“I'm glad we aren't near any human towns or villages yet,” Alida's mother said. “There's one we will have to tiptoe past farther on.” She yawned, then she smiled at Alida. “Come with me for a moment.”

They walked slowly. The air was cool and the moon was a crescent in the sky.

When her mother stopped, Alida started to ask her what they were doing. Before she could speak, her mother lifted her hands over her head.

Alida stared.

Her mother was whispering, her fingers moving, weaving themselves together like threads on a loom, then separating again.