Chapter 5 In Which I Call My Mother #2
“Oh?” my mother asked, in a tone so far beyond hysterical that it veered back into calm. The calm then shattered with violence.
The light emitted from the sun takes eight seconds to travel the ninety-three million miles from thither to hither.
The sound my mother made next took approximately thrice that time to die down.
“Mom, it’s okay,” I kept saying, staring at the patch of brown wall underneath the window. I felt better now that I’d told her. The first half of the hard part was over.
“Who’s keeping you there?” she asked, in a voice octaves above human comprehension.
“The Princeling. He’s… in charge.”
“I’m going to march over there right now and give that man a piece of my mind!” my mother said, initiating the second half of the hard part.
“Mom, it’s fine. I’m talking to him.”
“Put him on the phone! I have something to say!”
I took my ring off and twirled it between my fingers, staring at the glints of light refracting off its surface. “Mom, it’s fine. Please.”
“He can’t keep you,” she snapped. And then—“How did this even happen?”
Oh lord. Oh heavens and earth. Oh sweet parboiled mayonnaise-smothered corn.
“Um… They tricked me.”
I scrunched my eyes shut against her next tirade. Unfortunately, sound doesn’t enter your brain through the eyeballs.
Eventually, she ended on her fourth “Make him let you go!”
With a sigh, I slid all the way onto the floor, staring up at the faerie flittering by the ceiling.
“Even if he could let me go, which he can’t, faeries don’t work like that, Mom.”
“Our next-door neighbor Mrs. Jackson is a vampire, and she would let you go.”
The ceiling had lovely striations in it, veins of gray and brown rock and mineral.
“Okay, I’m not sure why you think Mrs. Jackson would kidnap me in the first place, but I meant—”
“Miriam!” she scolded. “Is now really the time to be sassy?” Which, fair enough.
“Look, Mom, all I mean is that faeries have a strong sense of fairness. If the Princeling were in my debt, then maybe it would be different.”
“Then put him in your debt,” she said. She sounded gentler now that we’d moved on to the advisory portion of our call.
“How am I going to put a faerie prince in my debt?” I groaned, closing my eyes. Doctor Kitten mewled, so I opened my eyes again.
“You could… save his life from an assassination attempt?” she suggested, sounding hopeful.
I remembered the Princeling earlier that morning, moving so quickly I couldn’t track him with my eye.
“That’s definitely an option,” I said brightly.
“Do you have better ideas?” she snapped. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“He wants me to teach a class about humans,” I said. “Maybe he’ll bargain?”
I didn’t feel particularly hopeful about the idea, but my mom latched onto it with the vigor of a leech leaping from a beaver dam onto a human ankle.
“Yes, bargain with that!” she said. “He wanted it enough to kidnap you, right? It must be important to him.”
Doctor Kitten and I stared at each other.
“I guess so,” I said, still so baffled I couldn’t feel angry.
“Then bargain with that,” she said, in the voice she used when she considered a matter settled.
“That’s a good point, Mom, I’ll do that now.”
“Are you just saying you’ll do that now, and then you’re going to put it off?” she asked.
“While that is certainly my modus operandi, no, Mom, I am not just saying that.”
I could hear her chewing on a pen cap over the phone. “Do you want me to come get you?”
The thought of my mother storming Faerie with nothing but a pocket full of used tissues and her force of will gave me major anxiety. “Not yet, Mom. But I’ll let you know. I love you.”
I hung up before she could say anything else and levered myself upright.
“I’m gonna get lunch, Doctor Kitten,” I said. “Do you want to come?” I walked toward the door, but he stayed on the windowsill, staring out at two strange-looking gold birds who’d come to roost on the other side of the magic barrier.
“Okay, traitor.” I opened the door and turned left. Then I paused.
Maybe lunch could wait… maybe I should be exploring the mountain to find secrets or a way out instead.
Sure, if I wanted to get eaten by a dragon or locked in a cave or turned into a flower or some nonsense.
I started down the corridor, forcing myself to observe more. I counted the wooden doors on my left, at least, to get a sense of where I was so I could find my way back.
One. Two. Three.
One of the will-o’-the-wisps darted away from the wall and floated next to my cheek.
I glanced over. He was a tiny humanoid creature but had six limbs, the two extra protrusions coming from his midtorso like a fly’s.
He had a fly’s eyes, too, multifaceted and refracting extra light.
I couldn’t tell where the glow came from—maybe it was all over his skin.
He also wore something that looked like a diaper made from an acorn.
“Hi,” I said. He cocked his tiny head. If he recognized human speech, he didn’t give any indication.
I came to the break in the corridor and realized I had stopped counting doors. With a sigh, I turned right, determined to pay better attention this time. The will-o’-the-wisp followed along, brightening as we got closer to the dining hall.
When I pushed the door, warm and rough beneath my fingers, my new friend flew inside without a backward glance, giving off spurts of bright light like Morse code.
I followed slowly, staring around the room. It was fuller than it had been in the morning, and again everyone turned to look at me. Gulping and trying to make myself look small, I hurried over to the buffet line and grabbed a tray.
The same three people stood serving food. This time, I tried to keep my gaze down at the food as I passed, though it was still hard not to glance at them.
The first faerie didn’t put anything on my tray and scowled again when I stopped.
She had slitted pupils and vivid green scales on her cheeks.
She appeared to be serving bowls of a thick brown soup.
I could see something like peas and potatoes floating in the pot, which resembled the sort of witches’ cauldron a high school production of Macbeth would splurge on.
The second faerie, when I approached, stared down at his platter of sandwiches—sandwiches?—but pushed one toward me. I picked it up and put it on the tray.
The third had blue eyes shattered through with gray lines like shards of broken glass.
He met my gaze. He put a bowl of leafy vegetables in blues and greens onto my tray.
And he smiled. He smiled like a gift, with a wall of blinding white teeth against his pink lips.
Shocked, I felt my mouth turn up in response.
“Lady,” he said, with a gracious half bow.
“Thanks,” I croaked. I felt his eyes follow me back to the same table where I had sat that morning. It made the other eyes feel lighter.
As I sank onto the stool, I felt a rush of wind, and suddenly the Princeling sat across from me, the Gray Knight on his left and the Crone standing behind him.
He’d changed into less formal clothes than he’d worn earlier—a plain green shirt, darker than his eyes, and soft trousers.
“Lady of the True Dreams,” he said with a kind smile. I wondered if it was genuine.
“Princeling.” I inclined my head but couldn’t keep the irritation off my face. He saw it and his mouth twisted.
“How do you find your accommodations?” he inquired, politely. I wondered what would happen if I punched him in the face.
On his left, the Gray Knight cracked her knuckles like she could hear my thoughts. She was wearing a pewter gray blouse, and it made her hair shine against her shoulders like a river in moonlight. I mean, to be honest, she was just very pretty.
“Does my hospitality lack?” the Princeling prompted. I flushed and turned my face away from the Gray Knight.
“I—” I stopped. Would he pull our contract if I was rude?
Did I care at this point?
I imagined trying to interview for a new job while in Faerie.
Hi, it’s Miri here, thanks for taking the time to chat. Sorry about the weird lighting, my night-light is alive and he’s really acting up. Anyway, I am so excited about your human job in the human world, where I totally live and pay for food and housing—
“The room is lovely, my lord,” I tried again. His eyes were intent on my face. “But would I not serve you better from my office?” I clenched my hands together in my lap. I felt so cold I was shaking. “I cannot work as well with my team from your realm.”
“You serve me best where I have placed you,” the Princeling replied. He sat back and put one hand on his knee.
“And how do I serve you here?”
“With a smile, I hope.” He still didn’t look away. I tried to meet his gaze, but I couldn’t. Had he just told me to smile? I would rip his face off—
“My liege—” I started, but he cut me off.
“Was Jeff fair to you this morning?”
Startled, I jerked my hand up to my face, sending my tray of untouched food flying. The salad bowl clattered across the table and landed on his chest.
Neither he nor the Gray Knight moved. The Crone sat down on his right and stared at me, too.
“Oh—fuck—I mean, oh—shoot—I am so sorry—” I scrambled out of my seat and started around the table toward him, but he waved a hand and the food disappeared, tray and all. There were no stains on his green shirt.
“Think of it no more.” It might have been a command. “But answer me, if it please you.” He waved an imperious hand, and I slumped down onto the stool.
It does not please me, I thought. “Jeff was… Jeff.” Frustration buzzed inside me. I didn’t owe Jeff anything—but I wouldn’t criticize him and risk the success of the faeries’ company.
Still the Princeling’s eyes never left me. I felt them, even though I stared down at the table. I tried to trace a vein in the wood with my finger and lost track of it.
“I know what you said to Sahir,” the Princeling said.