Chapter 5
“No, absolutely not. Nora, have you lost your mind?” Dad’s holding onto my hands like he might never let go. It fills my heart with guilt, but I have to make him understand.
“It’s the only way, Dad. The only option that means we can live in peace. We don’t have to leave the village. I just have to do this one task, and then everything can go back to how it was before.”
He shakes his head back and forth so many times I worry it will spin off his shoulders.
“It’s not worth the risk. We can hide from the king together—we’ll find a way. But if you go back to that place…”
“I came home before, remember?” I’m seated beside him on his bed, and I bend my head to try to catch his worried eyes.
“Not all in one piece.”
He squeezes my hand meaningfully and I try not to react. He’s noticed the missing finger, then. It doesn’t exactly help the case I’m trying to make.
“Things are different this time. The person who did that has been stopped—she can’t hurt me again. It will be safer now, I swear.”
“What does he need you for so badly anyway? He’s Blackcoat, Nora, have you forgotten that? What he does to people?”
“No, Dad. I haven’t forgotten. That’s why I’ve made sure our deal is watertight. It’s…it’s for a good reason. You have to trust me.”
I don’t think I can explain to him about Ruskin’s mother without inviting more doubt. It means explaining the strange abilities I’ve developed. And even once I’ve gotten him to understand all of that, Dad might think I’ve been emotionally manipulated, taken advantage of because of what happened to my mom. Maybe I have a little. Still, I feel like I should be able to keep my empathy and my eyes open at the same time. Ruskin will do whatever he can to get his mother back, but I would probably do the same. The thought reminds me of the unasked questions I’m still carrying around after my conversation with the changeling.
“Dad…when I was little, did I get sick?”
“What?” The change of subject must seem so sudden, he looks at me like I’m the one who might be concussed. “What do you mean?”
“I know it seems like a strange question, but do you remember if I was ever unwell as a baby?”
He frowns. “I…yes…there was a time. It was terrible. You were so small, and your mother was worried. I’d never seen her like that, she was usually so coolheaded. It was how I knew it was serious, that maybe you wouldn’t survive.”
“What happened?” I ask gently, not wanting to break the spell of his memory.
“She went away for a few days to see Ruth’s mother. Is this about Ruth? Did she bring it up?”
I search his face for signs of deception—some clue that he’s nervous, or hiding something, but he’s just wearing the same confused expression he does when I start talking about melting temperatures and catalysts.
“Yes, she mentioned it. I was just curious, that’s all.”
“You came back looking right as rain.”
“You didn’t find out what was wrong with me?”
He scrunches his face in concentration. “Your mom might’ve mentioned it, but I’m sorry, Nora. I don’t remember.”
He sits back, examining me. “Is it important? Do you feel sick again?”
“No, I feel fine,” I lie. Physically I’m all right, if tired. And even though I’m worried about leaving Dad again, I need to appear sure of myself. Thankfully, he seems to buy it, letting out a resigned sigh.
“I remember when you first started going to the fae market. I was so against it. Who knew what could happen to you there? But you were so determined, loading up your things and coming back with your coin; more than I could earn in a week. I could see then that you’d been right. It was worth it, even if thinking about it always made me sick with worry.”
He drops my hands, looking at the floor.
“I know better than to try to talk you out of this if you think it’s the right thing to do. But when you were taken to the castle, I thought I’d lost you. Please don’t make me go through that again.”
He must feel so helpless—as powerless as I did when first arriving in Faerie, unsure if we’d ever see each other again. I touch his shoulder.
“I won’t,” I promise, knowing he will believe me. Dad has never had trouble trusting me. It’s the world he’s wary of. And why wouldn’t he be? It’s been cruel to him so many times. I want that to change, and I know a better future can only start when we’re both safe.
Ruskin is waiting for us when I bring Dad back into our front room. My father continues to glare at him, and the stiffness in Ruskin’s posture tells me how awkward he feels. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s usually so smooth and collected, even when in a rage. It would be funny that my disapproving dad could have such an effect on him, if I wasn’t already so tense.
“You have to make another promise,” Dad says to him sternly. “You promise me that you will bring her back.”
“I assure you, Mr. Thorn, I couldn’t keep Eleanor in Faerie against her will even if I wanted to.” His tone is clipped and calm despite his awkwardness.
“Promise,” Dad demands.
Ruskin inclines his head. “I promise I will bring her back,” he says, though I think I detect the slightest catch in his voice. He hasn’t specified when he’d do that, of course. But I won’t force him to clarify. The promise is for Dad’s benefit, not mine, and as long as his mind is set at ease, then I’m confident in knowing I can use Ruskin’s true name to make him bring me back whenever I want.
I turn to Dad. We’ve already said our goodbyes in the privacy of his room, but the separation still feels raw after so little time together. Ruskin speaks before I do.
“And I have something for you, Mr. Thorn.”
Ruskin goes to the doorframe he fixed, laying a hand on the branches until a fresh shoot sprouts from between his fingers. He snaps it off, then holds it out towards Dad. My father simply stares at it suspiciously.
Ruskin clears his throat. “Please,” he says, moving it closer.
Dad slowly takes the twig, holding it away from him as if it might bite. I watch as a glimmer of light appears to dance on its surface—then, like a spider’s web caught on a breeze, it detaches itself and settles onto Dad’s hand before disappearing. He jumps and drops the stick.
“It’s all right,” Ruskin replies. “The spell’s already taken root.”
“What spell?” Dad snaps, his eyes wide with anger and fear.
“The protection spell. It’s not potent—most magic could undo it—but it will keep you from meeting harm by human hands at least, which I should think is your main concern.”
I roll my eyes, thinking he could’ve explained that first, but nonetheless, my nervousness over leaving eases, and the words are out of my mouth before I can think about it.
“Thank you,” I say to Ruskin.
As angry and hurt as I feel towards Ruskin, I do appreciate the gesture. He’s given more than I asked for. It was kind of him, the sort of kindness most would think he wasn’t capable of. I used to think I knew differently, but now… Now, I don’t know what I know. Not when it comes to him.
“Of course,” he says, his bright, yellow-green eyes inscrutable.
Later, I will block out what comes next: leaving the cottage, hugging Dad, and pushing away my own questions about when I’ll see him again. Then Ruskin takes me round the side of our house to the big barrel we keep outside for collecting rain and offers me his hand. I cautiously take it, closing my eyes for just a moment, unable to resist homing in on where my skin connects with his. I remember the first time he touched me, how I was surprised by his warmth. The memories of the hundreds of kisses and caresses we’ve shared since then threaten to crowd in on me.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, my throat tight. He secures his grip on my hand, and the next thing I know we’re plunging into darkness.
I’m better prepared for the heady whirl of portals as Ruskin jumps across Styrland. It will never be my favorite mode of travel, but I can’t deny it’s efficient. When we finally come to a stop, we’re deep inside the Kilda. Last time I was here with him I couldn’t stay awake, the magic overwhelming me until I fainted. Now my mind is clear and sharp, despite the frantic day I’ve had, and whatever magic is in the air feels natural to me. I take in the amber trees, remembering the changeling’s revelations, conscious of the man beside me.
“Why don’t you use the water to travel straight to the Seelie Court?” I ask, the thought only now occurring to me. “Why use the gate?”
“Because you can’t use water for travel across realms, only within the realm you’re currently in. You need something much more permanent for a cross-realm passage. Water isn’t nearly stable enough.”
“What would happen if you tried?”
His eyes glint, and I think he’s amused by my questions. I refuse to be embarrassed by them, however, waiting pointedly for an answer.
“You’d probably just end up in the wrong place in the same realm. But if you had enough power, it could be much more dangerous.”
“You could die?”
“You could end up stuck somewhere that isn’t a realm at all,” he says. “Somewhere in between.”
That sparks about a dozen more questions in my mind, but I swallow them down. I don’t actually need answers to all of life’s questions, no matter how much I might want them. What I do need is to keep us from falling back into the old rhythms of our banter. I can’t let myself forget: that’s not who we are anymore.
He gestures to the trees around us.
“You haven’t seen the common gate before, have you?” he asks, the trace of humor gone from his eyes.
“No.” I look ahead of where he’s standing, scanning the unbroken line of trees. “I don’t see it.”
“Look again,” he says, and nudges me forward, not commenting when I quickly step away from his touch.
The trees creak in the breeze as a huge arch three times my height unfurls into existence. At first I think the thing is metal, the point of the arch breaking off into flourishing scrolls and elaborate knots. Then I squint and see that, like much in Faerie, the thing has been grown, and the pattern of an orange fleur-de-lis adorning its sides are real leaves sprouting from its surface.
Between the pillars supporting the arch is a thick curtain of foliage and flowers. It looks dense as a hedge, but when Ruskin reaches his hand up to it, it parts like a single layer of lace, folding back to reveal the unmistakable green of the Emerald Forest beyond.
“Welcome back,” Ruskin murmurs to me, as I pass through the sweet-smelling doorway into another realm.