Chapter 29 #2
I nod, then look around, my vision sharper than before somehow. “What is this place?”
“For us, it’s home. For others … it’s known as the Traveling City.” The paradise that is constantly moving, appearing in various woods. The one Xara spoke of. The place Kira’s sword came from.
“You’re the faelings,” I say, looking at them with even greater notice than before.
The Elders both bow their heads in confirmation, the diadems they wear sparkling beneath the moonlight.
Moonlight. I look up, only to be greeted by a blanket of stars. Panic grips my bones. “It’s night. Shouldn’t we—”
The Eldress studies my brow, the fold in it, as if worry is unfamiliar.
“Ah. The demons.” She shakes her head. “They can’t come here.
The light keeps them out.” She motions around her.
There’s a shimmer over everything, like a dusting of stars.
There are tiny puddles of it, between the crooks of trees, and smeared along branches.
Orbs of the light are threaded through some of the treetops, larger versions of the strings she wears around her neck.
“Starlight. We’re descended from the stars themselves. Their glow is in us.” She takes me in with curiosity … and a bit of hesitancy. “A human hasn’t found us in centuries.”
I lift a shoulder. “I can’t take credit for finding you. I was led.” I can almost feel Raker’s questioning gaze on me.
At the Eldress and Elder’s obvious interest, I continue. “There was a woman. She came to me, almost like a dream. She … could fly. She floated right above me.”
There’s a sharp inhale, followed by shattering glass. I turn around as Este apologizes, picking up the pieces of what looks to be a vial.
“Is … is something wrong?” I ask, searching their faces for answers.
But the Elder and Eldress simply share an unreadable look before he says, “What was the color of her dress?”
“Silver,” I say.
The world seems to go silent. I do too, remembering the worst night of my life. Remembering the woman wearing silver. Silver. The color of the gods.
But this woman’s hair was blond. And her eyes weren’t hardened with cruelty.
“Was she a god?” I ask.
“No,” the Eldress says. “That was the Astral Queen.”
I blink. “Is she … one of you?”
She shakes her head. “She belongs only to herself. She’s older than these lands, than any of us, than many of the gods.” Her brow furrows. “She must want you to complete your journey. Helping a human … how curious.” She looks at the Elder. He nods gravely.
“What—”
“You must leave. If the Astral Queen is helping you, then the gods are against you.” She’s right.
My chest fills with dread, thinking about that cavalry and bounty. And leaving in the darkness would be a death sentence—
“Eldress, Elder,” Este says, stepping forward.
Her eyes are fierce, but her voice is polite.
“We certainly can offer the mere basics of hospitality.” Her head dips.
“They did find us, after all. Even with help … the gates appeared to them.” Pure and utter gratitude for Este smothers any lingering bitterness at the fact that her sister wanted to cut off my hair.
It seems there are rules, or traditions, as old as the Traveling City that must be adhered to. The Eldress lifts her chin. She looks over at the Elder, and I hope they both don’t decide to change the rules now.
“Very well. You can stay until first light. Then, you must go.” Her voice softens only slightly. “Tonight … rest, eat. Dance, if you’d like.”
I don’t think she understands how far away Raker is from ever dancing.
“Enjoy all the city has to offer, as our … esteemed guests.” She says that last part with more than a little reluctance. Then, she lifts a hand, and glimmering stardust falls from her fingers. “Welcome to the Traveling City, home of wonder and whimsy.”
She turns to go.
“My sword,” I say, stumbling forward, knowing I’m pushing my luck. “I’d … I’d like to speak with the blacksmith, if that’s okay.”
The Elder’s eyes move from Raker back to me. “He is currently … recovering. He should be able to see you tomorrow, before you leave.”
I glare at Raker.
The Eldress and Elder bow in unison before finally leaving us.
“Come,” Este says, still looking a little haunted. “Let’s get you some food.”
As much as I want to eat an entire feast, after consuming just a few fruits and vegetables, my stomach twists, as if it’s still adjusting to having something fill it. I excuse myself from the meal early and lie in bed, trying and failing to find sleep.
Hours later, I finally get up. If I’m not going to rest, I might as well explore this famous Traveling City. Maybe I can find something useful for either killing the gods … or speeding up our quest.
The stone floors, cold and smooth beneath my bare feet, are long shards of different shades of marble, like a giant mosaic I can’t fully see.
The wooden railings are carved in legends, stories of battles long fought and won.
The windows don’t have glass; they’re just gold arches that look out into a courtyard of trees brimming with endless flowers of every shade.
The palace is quiet. Most faelings must be sleeping. I should be sleeping too, I think, especially with the Eldress’s warning and her insistence that we leave first thing tomorrow, but instead I wander down the stone steps, and out into the night, knowing I’ll likely never get this chance again.
I walk down roads lined in thick oaks, so wide that houses have been carved into their trunks.
Up above, strings of starlight glisten like an extra sky, draped over bridges that dart through the trees in half a dozen levels, each one looking like a completely different market.
I imagine they house the world’s rarest, most coveted relics.
Specks of silver cover most surfaces, making everything gleam like a galaxy.
Home of wonder and whimsy.
No wonder so many people try to find this place.
I keep walking until I reach the golden tree that sits in the center of the Traveling City. It has an energy. A force. A feeling. I reach out to touch one of its weak branches, hanging like hair. It’s surprisingly sturdy beneath my fingers. And the leaves—
They’re pure gold. My thumb runs across one of them in wonder.
“It’s a gild willow. Their bark is coveted. So is their nectar.” Este.
The faeling steps next to me, running her fingers over one of the branches. “Look,” she says, dropping it against another. It emits a high-pitched, beautiful ringing. “In a strong breeze, it’ll play a song.”
A song. My mother would have loved to see this tree. She would have loved every single thing in this Traveling City. So would my sister.
“You lost someone,” Este says, knocking me from my memories.
I turn to look at her.
She lifts a shoulder. “It’s the eyes. They’re hardened, like they can’t ever light up again. I lost my mother.” She nods and repeats herself. “You lost someone.”
I shake my head. “I lost … everyone.” I drop the branch, and the full note it emits is completely at odds with the hollowness of my heart.
“I’m sorry.” Este studies me. She must have guessed I’m on the Questral. “Pain is a powerful motivator, I suppose.”
I shake my head. “No. Pain is paralyzing. Revenge … revenge is galvanizing.”
Her mouth tightens.
“What? Judging me?” I strum the branches again.
She shakes her head. “No. I’m afraid for you. Revenge ruins. It corrupts. I’ve seen it.” I wonder what, exactly, she’s seen. Is she hundreds of years old? Thousands?
However old she is, she’s right.
I know that. I’ve always known. This rage is choking; it’s all-encompassing. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.
“How does it end?” she asks gently. “Your quest?”
“With death,” I say simply, dropping another branch. It rings.
And Este takes a shaking step back. Her eyes are wide. She looks startled, like she did a few hours ago when I mentioned the woman in silver.
“What is it?”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. “I—Sometimes words … they crystalize. Harden, in my mind. They—” She shakes her head, and her expression is replaced by a tight smile. “I—I should go.” She turns and runs off. I watch her pink dress and rose-styled hair shift wildly before she disappears.
It’s only then that I notice them—wings on her back. They’re hanging limp, spilling down her spine in thick gleaming strands, like sparkling ribbons. What—
“Already scaring people away?”
Raker.
I turn and give him a pointed glare. “If only.”
He takes a few steps toward me. “This place—”
“Is wonderful.”
“—is ridiculous.”
I reach down and run my fingers through the silver glitter that coats everything. Without losing eye contact with the shadow beneath his hood, I smooth my fingers up his armor, smearing the glimmer toward his hidden face, until his hand reaches up, fast as lightning, and stops my wrist.
I try to move, but I might as well be battling stone.
“Don’t,” he warns.
Fine.
He releases his hold, and I flick my fingers, glitter exploding into the darkness of his hood. He propels himself away from me, coughing and sputtering, as if he’s been poisoned. It’s then that I realize he must not be wearing his mask. Did he take it off to get some fresh air?
I can’t see anything, though I try.
“Oh no. The pile of snakes beneath your hood is now covered in sparkles. What a shame.”
“Witch,” he says.
“Demon.”
He takes a step forward, anger radiating off him. “Fool.”
“Bastard.”
Another step. “Weakling.”
He’s right in front of me now. I tip my head up, and in the dark, with that hood, I still can’t catch a glimpse of his face. “Is that all? I’m disappointed.”
“Duel with me,” he says, not missing a beat.
I blink. “What?” I say, shocked and breathless.
His head lowers. “Your words are weak. Your blade isn’t. If you’re going to fight with me, then fight with me.”
It sounds as much like a threat as an invitation.