Chapter Fifteen Kit #2
I continue, trying not to attract anyone’s attention.
Abram was right that the Folk don’t seem to care about my presence in general, but whenever the Hidden Queen is in the room I can’t help feeling as if she were watching me.
I am always aware of where she is, and I wonder if it is the same for her.
The young ones have left the ballroom. I peer through the gaping opening where they went.
It is a dark tunnel, like the one Idris and I came through when we left the cove.
Unease raises the hairs on my arms. There are plenty of stories about foolish mortals who went exploring in the Hidden Lands and never came back.
But then, from the other end of the tunnel, I hear a seagull’s inelegant squawk—squawk—squawk—
Then: Trill.
The cheerful tune of a warbler.
Clenching my jaw, I move into the dark. There are no torches, but a faint glimmer of light shows from round a bend. I follow the turn—and stop in surprise.
The sky is the underside of water struck through with moonlight.
Blue-white light filters down in a pulsing pattern.
It has a shine to it that reminds me of diving into the loch with my eyes open—that otherworldly gleam that turns your own skin unfamiliar.
I realize I’ve stopped breathing and inhale cautiously. My lungs still work here thankfully.
Enormous white mountains hang from the sky, their centers a glowing blue and their edges jagged with upside-down cliffs.
A shadow crosses above me. A magnificent humpback whale serenely swims over my head.
Its underbelly is creased like an enormous fingerprint.
Barnacles cluster below its chin. The way it moves—apparently effortlessly—in the water tugs a longing in me I don’t understand.
My stomach swooshes as if I’ve just missed a step on a staircase. Swallowing on a dry throat, I lower my gaze.
The ground at my feet is the same warm, white sand in the cove.
But some way ahead, the land drops down into a valley.
A forest of kelp stretches nearly as far as I can see, clustered around one main path.
The stalks grow taller than a croft house, and the green-gold fronds sway weightlessly in the air.
Far in the distance, on another hill, I can just make out white structures. Some kind of buildings?
A rustling from the kelp fronds whispers secrets I can barely hear. Kingdoms and cures and come to us. My foot lifts to take me forward a step.
“No,” I hiss, pinching my fingernails into my palms. “Focus.”
I pull my attention closer, to the beach. The children are sitting on the sand a short way from me, paying me no mind. I take a deep breath. I’m not here to explore the Hidden Lands—I’m here to break my curse.
The boy again pokes the bird, and it again becomes a seagull.
I feel in my reticule for something interesting to catch their attention, and my hand closes round one of the nuts. I crouch on the sand and toss it toward the children.
They stop their conversation to watch it. Then the girl gives a shrill laugh and pounces on the nut, rather like a cat, batting it around. The seagull squawks indignantly and flies to a nearby boulder. I grab a second nut and toss it, slightly less hard, so that it stops closer to me.
The boy comes for that one and picks it up to examine it. He taps at the shell with a fingernail.
“I can show you how to crack it,” I say.
The boy looks at me. For a moment, his face is entirely serious, like an old man’s. Then he breaks into a grin, coming forward. “Yes, if you would.”
The girl follows, holding hers now. I take a third from my bag and crack it in one quick, sharp motion on the rock beside me. I turn the nut so they can see the crack down its side, then work my fingernail into the small opening.
“What are your names?” I ask.
“I’m Pri—”
The girl hits the boy’s arm and hisses, “Not your real name.”
“Oh, yes, you may call me Talfryn,” he says. He gestures to his companion. “And this is … Aderyn.”
I pull the shell off and help myself to the insides while I think. I remember that before he worked his curse, Speir told my mother that sharing a name was not so different from sharing a soul. I suppose there must be some magic in a real name. Just as well I go by my nickname, then. “I’m Kit.”
They both nod. “We’ve heard of you.”
I’m not sure if that is good or bad, but I extend my hand to them. “Have a go at cracking your nuts.”
The children make several attempts before they hit the shell hard enough. As they gobble up the nuts, their faces brighten with delight. Like Speir, they have strange eyes—Talfryn’s are vibrant as a lime and Aderyn’s are salmon-pink. I think they must be finfolk children.
I take out another two nuts so they can try again. I only have three left now.
As they give it a go, I ask as casually as I can, “Talfryn, what was Speir saying to you earlier?”
Talfryn has his gaze fixed on his nut, concentrating hard as he brings it down on the rock with one hand while he holds his stick in the other. “He said, ‘Take care—it is too crowded here for throwing around and breaking enchantments.’“
My heart quickens. “The stick can break enchantments?”
Talfryn wrinkles his nose. “It’s a wand.”
I swallow tightly. “What would you say to a trade?”
Talfryn tilts his head, nibbling on his nut. “What would you give me?”
I reach into my reticule, but Aderyn interrupts.
“More nuts!” she says. She pulls at Talfryn’s sleeve. “Ask for more nuts! We won’t be allowed to go to the land for another century—we might never get any again!”
Talfryn considers. “More nuts,” he agrees. “And you tell us where you found them. None of the humans who’ve come before had nuts.”
“There have been other humans?” I ask, scooping my remaining supply out of my bag.
“They wander in sometimes.” Talfryn snatches the last of the nuts from my hand and passes one to Aderyn. “And the place you found them?”
“There’s only one spot on Skyare that I’ve discovered so far.” I describe a small grove of trees near Mrs. Westness’s home. The hazelnuts are still in season now, but not for much longer. “You have to go during the autumn months,” I tell them. “When the trees change color.”
“Trees?” Aderyn repeats the word as if she’s never heard it before.
“She means when almost all the gannets have flown south,” Talfryn informs her. He holds out his wand. “A trade made in good faith. We will look for these nuts when we come of age.”
I hardly breathe as I take the wand. I thought it was a stick, but when my hand closes round it, I realize it is coral—one long white piece of coral. It sits in my palm with an unexpected heaviness.
I slip it into my reticule. It is just short enough to fit, with the drawstring closing over one end.
“You should go back to the hall,” Aderyn advises cheerfully. “We are in the Betweens here, but mortals who go deeper don’t leave.”
“Maybe she wants to stay,” Talfryn says. There’s a glitter to his otherworldly eyes that reminds me of Speir.
“Thank you, but perhaps next time.” I rise and wipe the sand from my skirt. My gaze longs to return to the view, but I keep my attention fixed on the strange children. For a moment I teeter, unsure how to properly say goodbye. I settle on a curtsy.
They burst into giggles, but at least they aren’t offended. I hurry into the tunnel, their laughter echoing behind me.
As I emerge into the ballroom, the musicians begin to slow, the music turning grave.
As one, the Hidden Folk stop their dancing.
Four finfolk take the four corners of the Hidden Queen’s throne, lift, and begin the promenade from the room.
I recognize the signs—last time I was here, they did this just before Idris returned to his boat.
I search the crowd, a pinch of worry in my chest. But there is Abram. He has a hand on Idris’s arm and is supporting him toward the exit. I hurry to follow.
Speir appears again at my side only a few steps later. “I suppose tricking a pair of infants is mildly clever,” he says, casting a bored look at my bag. “Though it only solves part of your problem.”
I tighten my hand over my reticule.
“Oh, no need for that.” He waves away my anxiety. “I will not take it from you. You were given it freely, and we are not thieves.” A gleam of curiosity makes the orange of his eyes brighter. “I do wonder, though—which one of the curses will you choose to break?”
I lift my chin. “The children did not seem limited with this wand.”
He huffs. “They broke simple enchantments. Hardly the stuff of your curses. You will have to choose one of the three.”
“Three?” I echo, my throat drying. Idris’s curse and my mother’s are the only ones I have thought of.
Speir lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t your mother tell you the wasting is a curse?”
My heart pounds as if it’s throwing itself against my rib cage, as if it’ll break free.
“Cure your sister of the wasting,” Speir says carelessly. “The wand will no longer work, but you can keep her body and she will not suffer in yours. Isn’t that what you want?” He leans forward. “To leave your old body, your old life—shed it like a skin that never belonged, and escape?”
I cannot speak. I can barely breathe. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me unsettled.
Idris and Abram are moving toward the tunnel to our cove.
Idris looks back at me, and his eyebrows lower when he sees Speir.
I think there is something protective in his face, and a rush of pleasure mixes with my confusion.
I remember earlier—how we danced close and how his eyes softened when he studied me—me, in Catharine’s body.
But it wouldn’t be Catharine’s body anymore if we truly switched for good. It would be mine.
I don’t bother bidding Speir goodbye. I rush after the boys as if I could escape Speir’s words. Still, I wonder: Is there a way out of all this where I can be truly free?