62. Willow
Chapter 62
Willow
W e arrive just in time to join the line of exhibitors forming around the arena. Glancing up, I spot faerie nobility occupying each house loge. Their faces alight with joy, hands clutching goblets of fairy wine that slosh about in their excitement. Further in the stands, Folk of all kinds gather to be entertained. Even green-cloaked guards wander the tiers with wide grins. Is Briar up there, ensuring everyone wears their smile?
Sunrise peeks through the top of structural trees forming the fort. Leaves shimmer gold against the pinkish-blue sky. No dragons perch on buttresses. Instead, their eyes gleam from within their bonded Radiants prowling around their troops, issuing last-minute instructions.
Ladies-in-waiting, dressed in extravagant attire matching their hair, bustle along the line, assigning and pinning resonance stones. For once, I’m in the correct uniform to match the others. Mustard Seed pins my stone to my chain with an arrogant smirk before moving on.
Another lady-in-waiting, Cobweb this time, hands me a scroll before continuing down the line. Finally, Moth takes my hand and stamps my palms with something that sears. When I cry out, she flashes me a cruel smile and moves to the next person. My palm burns and itches with the power of a magic circle covering it.
“What did she do?” I ask, but no one responds.
Those ahead on the challenge leaderboard are called forward to the center of the arena to receive a blessing from the Keepers of the Cauldron. All Shadows. What a surprise. Everything happens so fast it’s hard to stay calm. Only Geraldine and Max stand in the House of Shadow section. We didn’t have time to bring Becky, Colin, and the other Youngies in. My heart races as I realize how unprepared we are.
Bowls of water are placed before each exhibitor while I’m rushed forward to meet one of six masked druids standing around an enormous rock. It’s flat and wide. It wasn’t here during the Pageant of Prowess and hums with familiar magic.
I hunt the House of Shadow area for one of the Six and lock eyes with Legion. He stands in the shadows under the archway, hands in pockets, eyes on me with an unreadable expression, then looks pointedly at something over my shoulder—to the druid.
My Keeper holds out a water-filled bowl and bids me to pull out a blessing, clearing their throat. It sounds feminine. My eyes snap to theirs, hidden behind slits in the wooden mask, but it’s impossible to determine an identity. Until I lean into my shifter senses and take a long, slow inhale that fills my lungs with a familiar, sweet scent.
“Peablossom?” I whisper.
She lifts the bowl, insisting I hurry up. The brand on my palm burns and itches, compelling me to obey. That must be what Legion warned about—the magical enforcement ensuring we proceed with the trials. So I stick my hand in.
Other Shadows pull out strange weapons or magical items ranging from a long, dark wooden staff wrapped in rune stones to glittering orbs. Anything, any size, can come out of the water.
The water is cool as it swims around my fingers, a balm to the brand. I fumble about until something small, round, and smooth knocks against me, tingling vibrantly. I pull out . . . nothing.
“Ah, nothing for the Nothing!” Puck announces over a broadcasting stone, waltzing into the arena. “Who would have predicted that?”
Nothing? But I feel something. The Keeper winks at me, and I gasp.
It is Peablossom. I’m sure of it. She draws the bowl back to her center and, like the other druids, walks toward one of the arched entrances to the arena. All around us, other exhibitors have their hands dipped into bowls.
Robin Goodfellow struts toward me, his eyes twinkling with mischief and malice as he takes me in. The crowd hushes, anticipation crackling in the air. It’s hard to look away from his face. It’s covered in ribbons of stone—like Fox’s did when he exchanged places with Styx. But it’s more than that, more than a statue forming. Puck is a living monument. Ripples of stony scales swim beneath his skin. His auburn hair is dull and stiff. It’s almost like I’m not looking at Puck anymore but the Baleful Hunt.
“Go on,” he rasps, shooing me with his hand. Dust crumbles from his lips as he speaks. This close, his voice sounds more gravelly and less lilting. Run along now, Nothing.”
Every word amplifies around the arena. Laughter erupts as though he’s made the most hilarious joke in the world. I shoot him daggers and belatedly return to our troop, clutching the invisible round thing in my fist, using the sting it causes against the brand to ground myself. Does anyone else see what’s happening to him?
“My dear Good Folk,” Puck shouts as he steps onto the large central rock. It must be a resonance stone. His words amplify, echoing through the tiers of trees. “What a glorious morning. The bad weather teasing us earlier has evaporated. We are smiling, are we not?”
The responding cheer trembles the stands, sending a cascade of botanicals floating down. I dust off my head, reaching my friends with a sick feeling rolling in my stomach. I flick water from my fingers to catch Geraldine or Max’s attention. They’re standing stock still, eyes forward, dutifully listening to Puck’s performance. I glance along the line of exhibitors backed around the arena wall. They’re all watching avidly. Every single bowl is gone.
That was fast.
When the noise dies down, Puck adopts a more somber face. “As you can see, this year’s trials are not quite what anyone expected. But then, where would the fun be without a little chaos? I know Glen agrees.” He points somewhere in the tiers, and more cheers erupt.
Goodfellow grins, basking in their attention. “Are you ready to hear what other surprises we have in store?”
He pauses dramatically, letting the suspense build.
“Listen well, Fair Folk, for I bring you riddles three,
Of trials and truths, of dusk and dreams you’ll see.
Three challenges our brave exhibitors shall face,
Three lies unraveled in this very place.”
The crowd leans in, captivated by his overly dramatic words.
“First, through a nightmare dreamscape, they’ll flee,
While we watch enthralled with their struggle to break free.
Next, their nightmares will come alive,
As we witness their courage, will they survive?
The third, my personal touch, a special treat,
Deep in Nocturna’s heart, their deepest fears they’ll meet.”
Murmurs of excitement ripple through the arena. Goodfellow’s grin widens as he continues.
“But hark! There’s more than meets the eye,
For three great truths hide behind a lie.
One speaks of war, its purpose unclear,
Another of our queen’s slumber, oh so dear.
But first, a secret long concealed,
A mortal truth shall be revealed.”
He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in.
“Is he threatening to reveal the truth about the war?” I project my thoughts toward Styx, hoping he hears me. “Are you all in danger?”
No reply. Silence. Crickets in my mind.
My hand moves to my sword at my hip. The other clenches the smooth, invisible thing in my stinging palm. I don’t know what it is, but Peablossom hasn’t let me down yet. The arena’s arched exits are gated shut, trapping us in here. The early morning sun shines through the fort’s opening above, blinding my eyes and creating shadows, hiding faces—all except the show pony standing on the rock in the center of the arena. A single ray of light lands directly on him, amplifying his beauty and presence where he appeared so dull before.
“Who is ready to hear the truth?” Puck grins. “A lie so tricky, one would have thought our dear Glen was involved.”
Laughter explodes. A dark suspicion of danger coats my tongue, and my heartbeat rapidly increases.
“It was not Titania,” he announces, “a lazy queen with an ailing dragon who woke us all from the long slumber,” Puck reveals, pointing his finger at me. “But the House of Shadow’s Shadow. A last-minute stranger arriving at Avorlorna’s gates, a Nothing who woke armies of undead in her land, killed innocents with her bare hands, and was trained by the evil man who bombed the old world, destroying all we loved and held dear.”
Shocked gasps suck the air out of the arena. It feels like a vacuum. My lungs won’t work. My ears ring. All around me, hate-filled eyes pepper me through the heart like arrows. Alfie told Puck everything. I look for my mates, but can’t locate them. Instead, I see Becky—horror and disgust on her face. I see so many eyes looking at me like I’m a monster. I turn to Geraldine and Max and see betrayal in their eyes.
“I can explain,” I say, stepping forward.
“The man who raised you destroyed our world?” Geraldine’s face contorts.
“Kidnapped me,” I hiss. “He forced me to?—”
“It’s true,” Puck continues, his loud voice drowning out my words. He taps his temple. “The Baleful Hunt has revealed this secret, and I, your only trustworthy and loyal soul, once mortal and now dragon-bonded, simply could not keep this worrisome news to myself. The gods punished this agent of chaos, confiscating her magic for such cowardly acts. And what did she do?” He starts pacing toward the wings, scoffing, “She didn’t invite you to her abundant realm, where mortals are free, that’s for sure. No, she came here to steal the prize of a dream come true from mortals whose suffering she created. Times are changing, my friends.” He pauses beneath the last open archway. “Secrets have been kept for far too long. I promise you that everything will be revealed in due time. But first, let us enjoy the spectacle before us!”
The crowd’s shocked silence feels like a physical force pressing against me. I fight the urge to run, to hide, to disappear. But I can’t. I won’t. I square my shoulders and lift my chin, ready to face whatever comes next. The truth may be out, but it’s not the whole story. And I’ll be damned if I let Puck’s twisted version of events be the last word.