Chapter 9 Silva #5
The first curl of a true smile graced the pale woman’s mouth, her thin lips pulling to the side.
“Because you’re too pathetic to survive this on your own, clearly, and we do not wish to make enemies of the Night's Court. And you came with the right key. That grants you certain courtesies. Purchased?”
Silva nodded, and the Queen appraised her again.
“And the cost was high.”
It was not a question. Silva nodded again.
“Good. Then there are some things you understand already. You seek answers. The cost of knowledge will be higher still.”
“I don’t want knowledge,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I only want him back.”
She paused as the fox stepped before the fire, spooning the contents of the cauldron in a bowl and placing it before Silva.
It was some sort of meat in a heavy broth, with what appeared to be root vegetables.
The only meat she knew how to identify was red and raw, and she could not tell what this was.
“Eat.”
Like the other commands she’d been given, it was clear she had no choice. Whatever it was, Silva admitted to herself ruefully, it was good. Her little wing turned, kicked, turned again. It was the most active they’d been in weeks.
“You will keep searching for him even without my permission.” Again, the fae woman did not pose it as a question. “That is a mistake.”
“I won’t,” Silva said quickly. Maybe this is all a dream. You need to hurry up and make promises so that you can wake up. “I swear I won’t.”
“You will,” the Queen countered steadily, “because you are unwise. The Court of Flowers will pick their teeth with your bones, girl. Spring borrows what Autumn will demand repaid. You will be presented with a choice, and the road you follow will determine your story’s end. Do not become another debt collected.”
They will trick you. They will trap you. They will make you a slave to their queen. Silva couldn’t tell which this was.
Across the small table, the Queen smiled again, her thin lips tight and nearly invisible. “I already told you, child. Here, we do not take what is not ours to claim. Winter does not give up what is hers. But unlike the courts of my sisters, we know the difference.”
A third fae entered the room, escorted by the moth. The girl had brilliant, nearly glowing blue eyes, rich mahogany skin, and a quick, mischievous smile. Behind her, a thin, whip-like tail swished.
“And what of Summer, Your Majesty?” Silva blurted out, needing to finish this conversation before whatever happened next.
The Queen held up her hand, halting the others at a small distance.
Another tight smile, draining her cup, her slush-grey eyes growing sharp.
“My sister,” she began, letting the fox refill her cup once more, “consumes. Summer does not care what it devours. Only that it is fed. And Autumn collects the balance. The Bonfire Court does not forget debts owed. The one you seek was a promise repaid. I fear your bravery, while foolish and admirable, will be for naught, sweetling. The harvest must be reaped. He who collects will always take what is due.”
“And Winter?” Silva asked, knowing full well she was betting above her odds.
“Winter endures.” The Queen’s eyes were as cold as her smile. “That is what we do.” Her attention rose to the newcomer, gesturing towards Silva. The moth and the blue-eyed girl stepped forward. “This one possesses Winter’s Bone. She came through the gate. She seeks Autumn’s Princeling.”
At that, Silva’s head snapped up. Autumn’s what?
“He’s here?” The be-tailed girl had a slight cockney accent, her voice enthusiastic, and Silva nearly wrenched her back, twisting in her chair. “He’s crossed back, then?”
“Apparently so. Which means he was collected, and that will only end badly. I’ll not have the bloodshed of my sister’s consort and court impact our people. I want all of the gates sealed and guarded, inside and out. Set a watch.”
The moth gave a brief bow, leaving the way he’d come in.
Silence stretched long and slow. Duration.
This was where he’d wanted to come, Silva remembered suddenly.
The land of always winter. Winter endures.
“He liked it here,” she blurted again, her face hot.
“He told me so. The land of always winter. He said winter was the only acceptable season for doing anything.”
A ghost of a smile, a pull of those thin lips again.
“Winter values pragmatism.” She turned to the newcomer.
The lamplighter, she said. “She carries our blood,” the Queen began slowly.
The other fae’s head whipped around, her blue eyes fixing on Silva intently, sparkling with curiosity, a knowing grin brightening her face.
“You are to escort her back to the gate and see that she crosses safely. She is not to return.”
The realization that she was being permitted to leave was a rush of giddy heat, her eyes filled with relieved tears, as all the air in her body left in a woosh. “You’re letting me leave? I can go home? I-I appreciate your kindness, Your Majesty.”
“It is not a kindness.” The Queen rose, the fox quickly following her back to the throne.
“We do not wish to be involved in Autumn’s messes.
My sister’s consort has chosen his fate.
And we will choose ours. Consider this your permission for passage revoked.
You are a vessel of our blood. Be glad of it, for you will not find such courtesies afterward.
And you,” she went on as she climbed the ice block steps to her throne, continuing to address Silva, but clearly not Silva, “you have tarried too long. Wake up.”
Silva jumped when a hand wrapped around her wrist. It was warm, normal, the first warm thing she’d felt since her arrival at the cemetery that day. The blue-eyed fae grinned.
“A small mercy before you go,” the Queen called out, reseated on her frozen throne. “You will soon face a choice, child. Knowledge or nurture. The cost of one will cancel out the other, and you cannot bear them both. Do not come back to this side.”
They were silent, leaving the hall of Winter. Silva spared a single glance back as the doors to the chapel swung open. The Queen of Ash and Silence remained unmoving, as frozen as everything around her. Winter endures. And so will I.
“You know Tate,” she choked out as they crossed through the cemetery once more, the blowing snow swallowing up her voice.
“I do,” the lamplighter fae agreed cheerfully. “He’s a cheeky hoor, isn’t he. I’ve shot pool with him on more than one occasion. Rang me up not long ago, maybe a year or two. Asked me to dispose of some trash for ‘im.”
Her grin was too wide, her canines pointed and sharp as she giggled. It was an unsettling sound, and Silva forced herself to remember that she wasn’t out of danger just yet, not as long as she was in this place.
“You’re able to come and go?” she demanded, puzzle pieces slotting together rapidly in her mind. “You-you’re a Wisp.”
“That’s right.”
They had reached the black cemetery gate.
As Silva watched, mouth gaping, the girl lifted her tail.
It was tipped in a sleek tuft of black hair, curled around a small lantern, holding it aloft.
She held the lantern to the lock, the gate’s door swinging open silently.
“I’d get rid of that key as quick as I could, if I was you.
Don’t give someone the opportunity to make you bleed for it. ”
“How could she tell?” Silva demanded, desperate for something about this to make sense. “How did she know it was Tate I’m looking for?”
Another too-wide grin. “We can smell him, smell him all over you. Smell your little one. They smell like the Bonfire Queen’s court, but .
. . the other side, too. Take care. Winter .
. . the rest of our kind owes us a debt they can’t ever repay, you know.
It was Winterkin who stayed behind when the veil fell.
They saved the rest of us. The other courts don’t like to remember that.
Easier to forget we’re here, and that’s the way our Lady likes it.
If your little girl ever has need of assistance, find me.
I hope she doesn’t, but like I said . . .
Tate is a friend. This is where I leave you, Silva of Starlight.
Good luck. I hope he makes it back to you. ”
* * *
The house was lit up like a candle when she arrived home.
Her car had been gone. The sky had still held the white-grey dreariness that enveloped the world in winter, but it was tinged in a darker indigo, and she knew night would be closing in.
You managed to escape the Otherworld in one piece, and now you’re going to freeze to death in a cemetery ten miles from home. Sounds about right.
Fortunately, it hadn't come to that. She had begun walking down the curving road that wound through the cemetery, being stopped by a maintenance vehicle after only five or ten minutes.
Thank goodness it did, for she was stumbling by then.
Her head felt impossibly heavy, her eyes barely able to stay open, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Silva hadn't known how to explain where her car was, how she'd gotten there, why she was wandering around in the near dark.
The man had driven her back to the main office, begrudgingly handing his phone over to allow her to order a rideshare, once she logged into the app on her own account.
"Miss. Miss, we're here. You need to get out."
She started at the voice of the goblin driver, stumbling out of the car, staring up at the house. It was hard to believe she was back. Harder still to comprehend how she was meant to go back to her life now.
She finally understood then what the sphynx had told her at the auction. The cost of the key was something she would not get back. She could not go back to the days of not knowing. She could not go back to the elf she had been before. A kiss of fate.
Silva staggered up the driveway, relieved that the side door was unlocked. She barely made it to the living room before Tannar appeared at the top of the hall, his mouth agape.
"Silva?" All at once he was rushing to her, arms around her, hands at her face, tilting her this way and that, as if he were trying to ascertain what injuries she might've had.
A thick fog was settling over her. Tannar was talking, asking her rapid-fire questions, still patting her down. She didn't know how long she could stay upright at this rate.
“I-I just want to go to bed, Tannar. I'm really tired.”
Her husband was still staring at her open-mouthed, and now he flapped his arms like a goose. “Silva, what the fuck? Are you even okay? What happened?! Where have you been?”
“Tannar,” she began, irritation bubbling up to the surface.
“Silva, I have to call the police and let them know you're home! We have to call your parents. That's really all you're going to say? You're tired? Where the fuck have you been? What happened to you?”
She stumbled. What had happened to her? Silva felt as though she’d held a picture in her mind only a heartbeat before, and now it was fading rapidly. She had gone for a drive. Out in the cold, in the snow. She was dressed for it. But where had she been?
“They found your car in a cemetery. There were no signs of a break-in; your phone and purse were there. Silva, we thought you were dead!”
Cemetery. She'd been in the cemetery. She remembered that much.
Headstones and snow, and sharp blue eyes.
Silva of starlight. Your little girl. A twinge of pain, deep within her, made her breath catch.
“How – how long? How long have I been gone?” She couldn't make heads or tails of anything he was saying, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
“You've been gone for three weeks, Silva. We need answers.”
Another twist of pain, sharp and lancing, making her hunch.
Her eyes squeezed shut and she tipped forward, Tannar catching her by the shoulders just before she hit the ground.
A perfect little doll of a daughter to fixate on, and you can pour all of your insecurities into her.
Blue eyes, a throne of ice. The clear-eyed queen.
She'd been in the Court of Winter long enough to eat a bowl of soup. And apparently, she’d lost nearly a month of her life in doing so. And you’re going to have a little girl.
She could hear Tannar's voice somewhere over her, but the world went black.