Chapter 19
T he light is on in Maidar’s window, so I don’t feel bad about knocking. When he answers the door, his face is as stern as it always is, regardless of the hour you call.
“I was reading,” he says as he shuffles over to the fire, leaving the door open for me to follow him in.
“You didn’t want to join the holding feast?” I ask, wondering how I’m going to build up to the questions I want to ask.
“No.” He grunts, stoking the fire. “I heard you lot had come through all right, give or take a few injuries.” He glances at me. “That rabble rousing hasn’t been my thing for a long time. Too many people to hold, too many memories,” he says, gazing into the flames.
I don’t know how old Maidar is, but if he tutored Ruskin, he’s at least three centuries. I wonder if the wheels of history—one battle and the next—start to feel inconsequential after a while.
“But you didn’t come here to discuss the military traditions of this court,” he says, giving me a piercing stare.
“What’s happening to me?” I blurt out.
“Be specific,” Maidar says, laying down his poker and taking a seat on the stool by the fire.
“I mean, you said my appearance was probably changing because of Interra, but it’s not just my looks. My senses have changed, and I’m strong now—stronger even than many fae, the healer said, which is the only reason why my injury today didn’t kill me.” I can hear my voice rising, the emotions I’ve been holding onto threatening to spill over. “And I can suddenly eat and drink fae food without it affecting me. I want to know why. Why am I becoming… less human ?” The last two words come out as a gasp, and I’m horrified to feel a sob rising in my throat. I feel silly, like I’m overreacting, but these changes are so far beyond my control, and I can’t stand to think of the implications.
He gives me a long look.
“Was Ruskin’s mother stronger at the battle too?”
“What?” I stare at him.
“Was Evanthe’s magic different today when you confronted her?” he rephrases calmly.
I think about it. “Yes, she was stronger, but also the iron she controls had a new darkness to it, shadows that look like things we saw in Interra. We think Cebba’s magic attracted them to her when she was there. Darkness calls to darkness, Ruskin said.”
Maidar nods and I’m impatient, not wanting to wait for him to explain.
“Well? What does that have to do with what’s happening to me ?”
“I don’t think Interra is the sole reason you are taking on more fae characteristics,” Maidar says. “I think your naminai bond with Stiltskin is playing more of a role than I initially thought it would. The two are linked, but you are sharing in his magic now, and it’s understandable that would come with change. The question is what your experience, and Dawnsong’s, can tell us about the way Interra works.”
I don’t know what he means, and in this moment, I don’t have the energy to ask. No one asked me if I wanted this, no one warned me. One minute I was my normal, human self, and now I’m…something else entirely. Something other . My mind goes to the changeling I met the last time I was in Styrland, Tesha. She was trapped between two identities, two worlds, and I understand now why she seemed so lost and confused.
I must look as unhappy as I feel, because Maidar rises and places a leathery hand on my arm.
“Take heart, Eleanor Thorn. Because I think you may have just given us the key to retrieving Stiltskin’s memories.”
Dark circles sit under my eyes the following morning, as I rise and dress for Maidar’s arrival. Last night I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep after Maidar’s revelations. He wouldn’t go into details about his theories no matter how much I asked, saying he would explain it all to both of us in the cold light of day, muttering about getting some research together first.
Frustrated and anxious, I went straight to the room I shared with Ruskin and climbed into bed, feeling like I couldn’t face Ruskin that night. I knew if we spoke he’d notice something was wrong, and then that would lead to more questions that I couldn’t answer. So, like a coward, I pretended to sleep when he came in from the holding feast.
Now, Ruskin slides his arms around me as I stand before the mirror, kissing the tip of my bare shoulder. He frowns at my reflection, perhaps noticing my tense expression.
“We can call off this meeting with Cragfoot if you need more rest,” he says.
“No, I’m fine. He said in the note it’s important and…” I hesitate, but I hate keeping things from Ruskin, and decide the truth is best—or at least a version of it. “I ran into him last night and we had an odd conversation about Interra and your memories. I think he has a new theory for how to unlock them.”
“Really?” Ruskin asks, and the hopeful note in his voice makes my heart flutter.
“Do you still want that, after everything?” I ask.
“Do you still want that?” he replies, and I have to turn away from his searching gaze to give myself some space to think.
I love this version of Ruskin as much as the previous one. I wasn’t sure at first, but my feelings have carried on through the chaos, only growing stronger with each passing day. If Maidar’s plan doesn’t work, and Ruskin has to give up on ever retrieving his memories, would I feel any differently? I know the answer without hesitating.
“It’s your choice, Rus,” I say, facing him. “Whatever you want, it doesn’t change anything for me.”
He pulls me in for a kiss that takes my breath away, my head spinning by the time we break apart.
“This,” he says, stroking my cheek. “This is all so wonderful. If there’s more of it to remember, I don’t want to miss it.”
I make a face. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, I’m afraid. Even I can admit our past is…complicated.”
He chuckles as if this doesn’t concern him the slightest.
“I want all of it, Ella. All of you.”
When he talks to me like this, all my other problems seem to melt away. By the time Maidar knocks on the door, I’ve started to wonder what I was so nervous about.
The old tutor shuffles in with a stack of scrolls, immediately dumping them on the chaise.
“You know, my house used to be the perfect size to perform whatever activity I needed to. Then I started having to host so many people and conduct all these experiments and suddenly there’s not enough space. So I find myself spending half the week lugging my things from there to here.”
“We appreciate your help, Magister Cragfoot,” Ruskin says with a respectful nod, and Maidar eyes us, seeming to thaw a little.
“Yes, well, if this case wasn’t so interesting I wouldn’t bother,” he says. Ruskin and I exchange a look, knowing that as long as we keep needing his help, Maidar is likely to give it, no matter what excuses he’ll give as justification.
The old tutor begins unrolling his charts, explaining as he goes.
“We’ll need you here this time, Eleanor,” he says. “In fact, you’re going to be key to this experiment.”
“I am? Why?”
“I’m getting to it,” he grumbles, laying out a drawing that depicts the two realms—the human realm and Faerie—sat opposite each other in a vast universe, with a black, yawning space between labeled “Interra” in curling script.
“From my reading, Interra functions as a kind of warped mirror version of the two realms, but absent of the people and other creatures that make them what they are.”
I nod, remembering the parts of Faerie and Styrland that existed there in a kind of ghostly form, adrift from their whole.
“I think your visit, Stiltskin, and the attacks you underwent there, left your memory locked up within your mind, under the hold of Interra’s magic. In effect, your memories are trapped in the in-between, even if they never truly left your mind.”
“Is that why he remembers the realms themselves, and that there are different courts? Because Interra has parts of them?” I ask.
“Yes, quite probably, and hence why he also recalls very little about the people who occupy these spaces.”
“Forgive me, but when are we going to hear about this solution of yours, Magister Cragfoot?” Ruskin says impatiently.
But Maidar gives him a stern look. “That was always your problem, Stiltskin. Always more interested in the cure than the diagnosis. You shall know in good time,” he says. “Anyway, it was your phrasing that put me on to the idea: ‘Darkness calls to darkness.’ An old magical term to recognize the phenomena of like magic attracting like. For Evanthe, the dark magic she already carried attracted the darkness from Interra that you saw in battle yesterday.” He turns to me. “But your bond with each other survived the impact of Interra—you could feel him even across the divide of realms, correct?”
“Er, yes,” I say. “Painfully.”
“And even when it robbed him of all else, Interra could not take the bond from him. It is the opposite of dark magic—a pure union of power that Interra simply couldn’t touch, and so your connection remained, when all other points of familiarity were lost.”
Ruskin steps closer to me, brushing his fingers against my hand. I smile at him, proud that our bond cannot be broken.
“The bond was even strong enough to shape what Interra decided to gift you, Eleanor Thorn.” Maidar makes a point of meeting my gaze, and I wonder how much information he will mention in front of Ruskin.
“Her change in appearance?” Ruskin asks, looking between us.
“That, and more. Her heightened senses and her physical resilience, among other things.”
“I thought they were just from the bond,” Ruskin says. “After all, naminai bonds are rare enough that we’re not sure of the full consequences of them, correct?”
“Correct, and it is from your bond in a way. Interra sensed that Eleanor was already receiving fae elements from you and simply enhanced them, gifting her more traits of our kind.”
I absorb this. My connection to Ruskin was the trigger for the changes, but entering Interra myself to rescue him was what solidified it. It makes the idea easier to swallow, because I know that I would always go to Ruskin, wherever he was, and whatever the consequences would be to me. If he were lost, I’d have to try to find him, in the same way that I have to keep breathing.
“Either way, if the bond can overcome Interra’s magic in this way, then I think we can use it to unlock Ruskin’s memories too.”
“I tried using the bond to share my memories with him before, but it didn’t change anything,” I say.
Maidar waves a dismissive hand. “Of course not. He needs his memories, not yours.”
It’s so similar to what Ruskin said to me at the time that I throw a look at him, crossing my arms. “Well, excuse me for trying to think outside the box.”
“ This is outside the box,” Maidar says, opening up a book to a page with a complex-looking incantation on it. He taps the page with satisfaction. “You have to go into his mind, Eleanor. You have to find his memories and free them from Interra’s hold. And you’ll use the bond to do it.”
Maidar insists on settling us down on the floor so Ruskin and I are seated opposite each other. I feel a little silly to begin with, gazing into Ruskin’s eyes as his old tutor bustles about arranging his papers and books, explaining that this is all essential so he can make sure he gets the incantation right on the first try.
“These more ephemeral spells tend to be pernickety about pronunciation,” he says.
“But if you make a mistake, we can just start again, right?” I ask hopefully.
Maidar gives me a look like I should know better. I do, of course. It’s never that simple when it comes to magic.
“If I make a mistake, your consciousness might not end up where it should,” he says darkly. I decide not to ask any more questions. Instead, I concentrate on Ruskin’s face, taking a deep breath.
“That’s it,” Maidar says. “Hold eye contact; it will help maintain the connection.”
Half an hour ago, when I asked Maidar to walk me through it all, his instructions were sparse.
“You have to understand I’ve never actually done this before. You’ll need to rely a lot on instinct to guide you,” he said. “But you have done so before, in Interra. Listen to the bond; I’m sure that is the answer.”
I’m glad Maidar sounds confident, but it seems Ruskin still senses my nervousness, because he reaches out to touch my hand. Maidar clears his throat and stands taller.
“Ready?” he grunts.
“No last-minute objections to me rooting around in your mind?” I ask Ruskin, only half-joking.
“Just be gentle with me,” he replies. I don’t see any fear on his face, only hope—and trust. They spur me on.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say, and Maidar begins to chant the unfamiliar, elaborate-sounding words of the old tongue.
I let the repetitive rhythm wash over me as I stare into Ruskin’s eyes, losing myself in the darkness of his pupils. It’s easy enough to do on a normal day, but this time…it’s different. As I stare, the blackness seems to expand, opening up and beckoning me in. I remind myself not to fight whatever happens next, letting the blackness engulf me like a portal. The next moment I’m falling into it, the room dissolving around me.
For a few, heart-stopping seconds, I feel like I might fall forever, but in the uncertainty I instinctively reach out for the bond, grabbing hold of it like a rope. The sensation of tumbling downwards stops. The bond feels warm and solid in my hands, a physical thing. Though I can’t see what I’m doing, I remember Maidar’s advice to act on instinct. I ask myself what I want from the bond and try visualizing it: I want the bond close to me, to use it to guide me, so I wrap my body around it, shimmying down it until my feet hit what feels like solid ground.
There’s still nothing to see, though. Have I found myself in some kind of void?
But just as I think that, the bond transforms again. One moment it’s still the rope in my hands, the next, a lantern, glowing bright, so bright that it illuminates everything around me with a golden light, and I can see that I’m in the Seelie palace.
Or at least a version of it that exists in Ruskin’s mind. When I look closer I see that everything is a bit off. Corridors I’ve walked before now lead to doors I don’t recognize, and when I turn a corner, the flower-rich Seelie architecture merges with the craggy stone of the Unseelie Court. But none of it is like the ghostly echoes of Interra. The building feels real—tangible—and when I push on a door, it’s solid under my palm, just like the bond.
I step through the doorway, and for a moment, I think I’ve slipped out of Ruskin’s mind altogether and am back in our room in the Unseelie Court. Then I see the figure lying in the bed, and stifle a cry of surprise. It’s me, asleep. Some force pushes me forward, compelling me towards the bed. Ruskin is there beside the version of me in the bed, but I can’t seem to focus on him—not too closely anyway. My attention keeps getting drawn back to my own face, as Ruskin reaches out to stroke it. I shiver, struck by a sensation of overwhelming love and a fierce, burning protectiveness. I look almost exactly as I did this morning when I looked in the mirror.
This is Ruskin’s memory. That’s what I’m seeing—that’s why even though he’s here, I can’t focus on him. Because at this moment, he wasn’t thinking about himself. I’m reliving the moment as he experienced it, seeing what he saw and feeling what he felt.
I’ve felt Ruskin’s love for me before, through the bond, and while I could happily stand and bask in it now, I know this is a recent memory—perhaps even from just last night. If I’m going to find the ones Ruskin has lost, I need to dig deeper.
The room I’m in has several memories coming off it, and I continue on through the shifting structure, pressing on doors to catch glimpses of the last few weeks. There’s yesterday’s battle, pulsing with Ruskin’s rage as he spots Lady Rivera attacking me; his fear as he perches on a mountainside, watching me play bastet. I blush at the next memory I come across: Ruskin’s mouth on me, my unrestrained moans as he pins me to the bed. I feel the sharp, hot edge of his desire and find it hard to tear myself away. As tempting as it might be to relive that moment, I need to keep going. My gut tells me this isn’t all there is, and the bond seems to confirm it for me when the light in my lantern flashes a little brighter, as if urging me onwards.
Then I see the shadow. Thick, winding, tendrils of it crowd across the next corridor I turn onto. They’re twisted so densely across a door at the end of the hall that they look solid—like real vines that have grown over the wood and stone. But their essence is all too familiar. A mix of relief and alarm hits me. This must be the place—the start of where Ruskin’s memories are trapped. This is where the darkness of Interra has latched onto Ruskin’s mind like a parasite and locked his past away.
I have no idea what to do next.
The tendrils look too knotted and thick for me to just tear them apart with my hands, and there’s no iron here to remove. We’re not in the physical world, and so I doubt any of my usual magic will banish them…
Except the magic that’s been guiding me this whole way. I look at the lantern, the light of the naminai bond glowing within. It was strong enough to survive Interra. The darkness of the space between realms couldn’t break it. Maidar thought it could guide me to find the memories…but I can try using it to free them too.
As I imagine it, I watch the lantern change in my hand, the golden glow re-forming, becoming heavier between my fingers, until I’m clutching a glowing sword.
I give it a few experimental swings, then descend on the shadows.