Chapter 31 #4
He staggered forward. “You are here now.”
Viola floated through the room toward the throne. The onlookers parted as she passed, bowing low. The power of her magic pulsed, and golden vines sprouted from her, like those that once laced through the Hall.
The Faerie King went to meet his daughter. Mouse, forgotten, tumbled to the platform. Instantly, she darted off the throne pedestal, pulling John’s sword from its sheath as quickly as she could.
Viola and the Faerie King reached each other in the middle of the room. Viola held out her hand. Her father seized it and pressed it to his lips. Her smile was rueful as she pulled away.
“I have served my purpose here, Father. As have you. It is time to move on.”
“I do not understand. We’ve just found each other again,” the Faerie King said. He had shifted into someone between the Faerie King and Mr. Hobb, his voice aging while the rest of his features remained Faerie.
“You wish to take revenge on the mortals,” she said, cradling his hand in hers. “To what end? Most of them do not believe in us anymore. Why not leave it that way, and let the old magic die? It has run its course. Our time is over. All I want to do is rest. Isn’t that what you want too?”
“But you are my blossom,” the Faerie King said, and his voice was thick with tears.
Viola smiled.
“And I always will be,” she said.
Then, she clicked her fingers. A crack splintered through her, slicing her from head to toe, like a tree struck by lightning. The house groaned. Mouse remembered Viola’s words from the conservatory.
I am still the bones of the house. We are entwined together until the end.
The Faerie King caught Viola as another crack branched through her. Thistlemarsh broke in sync with Viola. Fractures ran down the walls. The foundations rumbled.
The Faerie princess was releasing the enchantment she’d created over the years, and she was bringing Thistlemarsh down around their heads in the process.
Someone screamed. Faeries on the edges of the crowd darted into the mirrors, out the doors, or up the chimney. The guards abandoned their posts, following the smoke in the hearth into the open air and, Mouse presumed, back into the Faerie realm.
The Faeries in the center of the room collapsed into animal form. A menagerie of exotic birds, predators, and prey tumbled over one another to escape the ballroom. The courtiers forgot Mouse, Thornwood, and his mother in the uproar. They seemed even to forget Viola and the Faerie King.
Mouse searched for Thornwood in the chaos and found him still bound in place. His mother, trapped in moth form, had pulled herself closer toward him, and now she was just within his reach.
As soon as the moth pressed itself into Thornwood’s fingers, there was a flash of blinding light. A white-haired woman materialized in the insect’s place. She was stunningly beautiful, despite her torn dress and the dust coating her hair and eyelashes.
Even across the room, Mouse could see the resemblance between Thornwood and the woman, with her hair and outraged expression. Thornwood grinned at her, running his hands along her cheeks.
Sharp pangs rocked through Mouse’s heart at the sight. There was joy for Thornwood and his mother but also jealousy, as Mouse knew that no such reunion awaited her. All she could hope for now was a day when her brother might remember her face.
Thornwood pulled away from his mother and searched the crowd. His face brightened when he saw Mouse. It was unfair how handsome he was in the chaos of a collapsing building. Mouse dashed to them, avoiding a collection of Faerie tigers, hares, and elk.
Viola and the Faerie King remained still in the center of the room. Mouse wasn’t sure that the Faerie King had even noticed that Thistlemarsh was collapsing. Although Mouse could not make out the words, she could see the Faerie King’s lips moving.
“Mouse,” Thornwood shouted as soon as she reached him.
He pulled his chains tight, but there was no give.
His mother lifted one for as long as she could stand the iron before dropping it.
Scorch marks marred her hands. Mouse nodded to her, and she gave Mouse a bewildered bow before returning to her vain attempts to break Thornwood free.
“You are a damn fool,” Thornwood barked. “Why did you come back? You could have died!”
“That’s gratitude for you,” Mouse snorted.
She took off his ring, slipping it over his knuckle into place.
It let off a burst of light, and color returned to Thornwood’s cheeks, but the chains remained.
Cursing, Mouse pulled out her keys and attempted to push them into the locks on his wrists. The cuffs did not budge.
The ceiling broke into shards and rained down on the room in a mist of silver. Chandeliers crashed to the floor, sending their candles rolling. Some flames guttered out, while others flickered dangerously.
“Get my mother out of here. I’ll be fine.”
“Now who is the damn fool?” Mouse asked.
“I am not leaving,” his mother snapped at the same time.
“Both of you are impossible!”
A cry rose from the hallway, and a thumping sound grew closer.
“What is it now?” Mouse whispered, putting herself between the doorway and Thornwood with her sword.
Thornwood scoffed behind her. “What do you intend to do with that?”
“Use you as a pincushion, if you don’t be quiet,” she hissed.
A man materialized in the entryway in clothes as black as night.
“Mickelwaithe!” Thornwood exclaimed. The Faerie servant raised an eyebrow at them, his classic half smile, half grimace forming on his lips.
John must have rubbed the acorn cap, Mouse thought. He has a gift for good timing.
“Well done, sir. I see your plan was a riotous success,” Mickelwaithe said.
Thornwood scowled. “Is this the time? Take my mother and Mouse out of here. Viola’s done something to bring the whole place down.”
Mickelwaithe did not move.
“Did you hear me?” Thornwood asked, a desperate edge in his voice. Mickelwaithe did not respond. “Fine, you were right about everything. I admit it, and I am sorry that I doubted you. There, will that suffice?”
The Faerie servant tilted his head. “I appreciate your apology, sir, but I await Mouse’s orders. I came here to help her.”
Thornwood blinked.
“Didn’t you notice that his deal with you broke as soon as Mr. Hobb captured you?” Mouse asked before she turned to Mickelwaithe. “Can you undo this chain?”
Tilting his head again, Mickelwaithe leaned in close. “The magic is too complicated for me to undo before the house collapses.”
“Right.” Mouse turned to Thornwood’s mother. “Please, go with Mickelwaithe. I know that you want to help, but Thornwood will only be distracted if you stay, and you aren’t well enough to break these chains yourself. You must know how useless he can be when distracted.”
The Faerie woman scowled, and Mouse saw so much of her son in the expression that she almost laughed aloud.
“Fine,” Thornwood’s mother said. She had a subtle, elegant lilt, and Mouse wondered if it was as much of a show as Mouse’s own posh accent. “Do not leave my son here to die, no matter what he might say.”
“I won’t,” Mouse promised. Thornwood snarled at her.
Ignoring him, Mouse turned to Mickelwaithe. “Take her to John’s cottage.”
Thornwood’s mother pressed her son’s hand once before the Faerie servant wrinkled his nose and they both vanished, narrowly avoiding a shard of falling mirror. Mouse set to work on the lock again, but this time with the point of John’s sword.
“Go,” Thornwood begged. “Do not waste your life on me.”
“Oh, be quiet.” She turned the blade again but had already half given up on the sword point. She looked up into the ballroom, wiping sweat from her eyes. The fire had spread from the candles of the toppled chandeliers to the floor. The flames reflected around the room, heating the air.
All the Faerie courtiers had fled, save Viola and the Faerie King.
In the confusion, the former had crumbled to the ground, while the Faerie King leaned over her.
Broken goblets littered the floor, as did crushed masks of all shapes and sizes.
Mouse hoped that the Faerie servants had absconded with their masters or used the chaos to vanish into the mortal world.
She thrust the sword back into its hilt.
“What are you doing?” Thornwood asked.
“Stay here,” Mouse said, pulling off her mask.
Mouse trampled over the ruined ballroom to the Faerie King and his daughter.
Behind her, Thornwood hissed warnings and desperate insults at her, but she ignored them.
Neither Faerie royal noticed her as she sank beside them on the floor.
The Faerie King’s eyes snapped to her when she took Viola’s hand, but he relaxed when he saw his daughter smile at the touch.
“Father, give Mouse the key to Thornwood’s chains and have it over with.”
“But the boy betrayed me,” he said, traces of the spiteful Faerie King returning.
“What does that have to do with Mouse? You want to punish her for something that happened years before her birth? You’ve loved this girl like she was your own since she was a child. Doesn’t that mean more to you now than petty revenge?”
“I suppose that it does.” He sighed. With a twist, he pulled a small key from the air. He handed it to Mouse.
She took it and whispered, “Thank you.”
The Faerie King ignored her. She squeezed Viola’s hand one final time, then pushed herself onto her knees.
Not allowing herself time to think it over, Mouse slumped into the Faerie King’s side, arms outstretched in an embrace. He absorbed the blow, his hand still wrapped tight around Viola’s.
“Thank you, Mr. Hobb, and goodbye,” Mouse whispered.
When she pulled away, she saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. Although his features had not changed, there was a softness, a touch of his human expression. He brushed his fingers over her forehead, then moved to her chin, patting it once.
“Go, my dear,” he said.
Clutching the key, Mouse was back on her feet and across the room. Their hushed words reached her as she ran. She turned back to watch, caught in the wake of their conversation.
“Stay with me,” Viola murmured, her lips moving in unison on either side of the crack in her face.
“Always,” Mr. Hobb said, bringing her hand up to his heart. When a new split appeared across Viola’s face, a matching one sprouted on the Faerie King’s. Mouse watched, bewildered and horrified, as they crumbled together into dust.
She forced herself to look away. There was no time. Mouse brushed away her tears and turned back to Thornwood.
The chains came undone the instant the key clicked into the locks.
Thornwood snatched hold of Mouse’s arm and dragged her to the fractured mirror beside the throne and fireplace. Flames consumed the path to the hallway, and smoke clouded the air.
“Can we use mirror travel?” Mouse asked. “Or escape out the chimney?”
“Not in my state and not with these broken mirrors,” Thornwood said, pressing in vain against the material. “We will have to chance the flames.”
Mouse turned to the doorway, but by then the fire nearly swallowed the wall.
“That is not an option,” Mouse said.
Thornwood growled before he took hold of her hands. “Mouse, I know you cannot forgive me, but you must know I truly do care for you. That was not a trick.”
“This is not the time,” she said, but her heart pounded. So, had he felt something real for her? Could she believe it, after everything he’d done? He could not lie outright.
When she did not pull away, Thornwood’s gaze flicked to her lips. He leaned in, and Mouse’s breath caught.
At that moment, the ceiling collapsed. Thornwood dove on top of her, pushing her back behind the throne. The last thing she saw was a flash of Thornwood’s panicked eyes and the back of the throne coming down on them before all crumbled into darkness.