The Last Faerie Queen (30 page)

Only, always, together.

“I will give you what you want,” I said, rising from the bed.

“It isn't what I want.” There were tears in his eyes. There were tears in my eyes. “It's what I need. I want you,” he added softly.

“You had me,” I told him.

But not now.

I leaned in and kissed my sweetest salvation. My reason for living. The only joy I'd ever had. “I love you,” I whispered. “Always, I have loved you. From the moment my spirit came into being. Before it even made sense.”

“I love you,” he said, but I couldn't hear him. He'd only mouthed the words. I waited for him to pull me back to him. To show me his love.

But he didn't.

And I didn't pull him back either. Backing away from the bed, my arms still stained with the blood of my enemies, the blood of my friends, I went to meet my mother.

I went to seal my fate.

43

T
ayl
o
R

That night, I expected to dream of bloodshed and violence. Of shackles and faeries who torture you while they grin. But I didn't. I dreamt of my house in the human world. My bed.

I looked down at the blankets, thinking,
This is the real world, and that was just a dream.
Keegan isn't dead.

I sat up with a smile on my face. The sun was filtering through the windows, softly, like you'd never see in the faerie courts, and I stretched my arms above my head lazily. I couldn't wait to face the day.

Everything is perfect,
I told myself.
Everything is as it should be.
I'm safe.
My family is safe.
My friends are safe.

The calendar was hanging over my desk, and I walked up to it. May hadn't even happened yet. It was still April.

It was the day I'd met … somebody. But it didn't matter, because everything was as it should be.

And so it went. I brushed my teeth and showered. Went rummaging through the house for breakfast. I wanted to hug my parents, even though they'd driven me crazy before. I wanted to, but I couldn't find them.

That was okay. My mom was probably at the store, and my dad was … well, wherever my dad always went. Absent, even when he was here.

That was okay. I walked back to my room, past the pine tree in our yard. Something about it bothered me, but I couldn't remember what.

Clouds passed overhead.

The school day went by quickly. I was anxious to get to the soccer game, to play against Brad. No, alongside Brad. We were on the same team; he just wasn't a team player. That was okay. Everything was okay. The stupid little things that had bothered me before didn't bother me anymore. I strode onto the field with confidence. I offered Brad a high-five, so relieved to see him standing there, but he didn't offer one back. Whatever.

Worse things could've happened.

The game started on time. And everything went how I remembered it: our team was behind. Brad was trying to cheat. The coach was ogling the cheerleaders. It all felt so unnecessary. So pointless. Like, this was their life? This was my life? Kicking around a ball on a field? Kicking at a net?

I told myself to calm down. Everything was okay.
Look to the stands, wave to your parents.
I tried, but they weren't there. They were never there. Not a single time.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

I missed an easy kick, and Brad pushed me aside. God, he was a dick. No, he was an okay guy. No, he was a jerk, but he wasn't a dead jerk, so I should be relieved.

I mean, I was relieved.

Still, he kept bumping into me and I just didn't have the patience for it. The game wasn't important to me. The people in the stands weren't important to me. We were kicking a ball into a net. In my dreams, I'd been a hero on a battlefield. I'd saved a princess. And now …

Race, dodge, kick. Race, dodge, kick.

This is your life?

I walked off the field at halftime. On my way out, I stopped by the other team and told them to watch out for Brad, and then I just bailed. I thought about calling Kylie, but I didn't have her number. We weren't even friends.

That was okay. We would be friends.

But I couldn't remember how or why. We didn't run in the same circles. We'd only talked a couple of times. And honestly, when I thought about going to school and sitting through Math and English and stuff, I just … couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

I mean, quadratic equations? Sonnets? There were people being blown up. There were people being murdered and raped. But hey, let's talk about Socrates! Let's sit at lunch tables and trade stories about almost getting laid. Let's tell lies and wear masks.

I walked right past the parking lot into the trees. It was cooler back here. Nice and dark, with these tiny shafts of light. I walked over to the swing set and sat down. I was waiting for something.

But what?

The game let out. The moon rose higher. Ten o'clock. Eleven o'clock. Midnight. Soon, morning.

No one came. I was alone. My parents hadn't even called my phone.

I started to feel heavy again, started to feel sweaty and panicked. I was alone?
What about Alexia?
I thought.

Wait, I didn't even like her, I remembered. We hated each other. At least, we looked at each other with the appropriate amount of disdain. Popular vs. unpopular.

Wait, this is your life
? This
is your
life
?

I stood from the swings, thinking I could change it all. I could connect with Kylie before it was too late. Help her bring her girlfriend to the prom. Talk to my parents. Make friends. Make peace.

Yes.

I hurried to my car and drove home in a daze. But when I got there, my parents' cars were gone. The windows were open, and no blinds were covering them up. Looking in, I saw empty rooms.

I raced to the garage. There I climbed the stairs with heavy legs. I struggled to pull my keys from my pocket, thinking it would take three tries to get my key into the lock. My hands were so shaky. But it turns out it wasn't a problem.

Because there was no door.

I walked through the open entryway and found what had been missing. The unhinged door was lying on the floor. And in the center of the room sat a single box holding the remainder of my belongings. A ball. A sketchpad. Three books:
Peter Pan, Othello,
and a history textbook. My heart squeezed when I picked up
Othello
. It reminded me of something, but I didn't know what.

Then I saw it. A single sleeve, streaked red. Pulling it out, I found it was attached to a shirt. And then I just slid to the ground, clutching the shirt to my chest, the last remnant of my home.

Because this place wasn't my home. My family was gone, or they would be soon. My friends would go off to college, get jobs, maybe follow me on Twitter or whatever networking site would exist when we were adults.

And here I'd be, alone, rocking in the same damn place I'd always been. Wanting to be a hero, but paralyzed by fear.

No,
immobilized
by fear, by loneliness.

Maybe I'd get married. Maybe I'd have kids. Pass down the same harmful bullshit my folks passed onto me. Or hell, maybe I'd be a great dad, but what would I be doing for the world? What would I be giving back? Forests would fall to build my home. My furniture. Books. Papers. Napkins. We'd eat animals raised in factories.

Blood would follow us everywhere we went. The blood of the forest. The blood of the earth. I might live, and I might love, but all I would do was destroy this place.

Lead it closer to the end.

Outside my window, I heard a great cracking sound, and I looked out to see the tree had split open. There, at the base, darkness was creeping out, like it was searching for me. But I didn't run from it, not this time.

I ran toward it. Into it.

I ran home.

44

E
l
o
r
A

I did not go to meet my maker dressed in blood. Oh, no. I stopped beside the falls and cleansed the crimson from my arms. I even tinged the water a pleasant blue before I left. Little known fact about glamour: it was easier for me to put one on than tear one away. Another thing Taylor didn't know about me.

One of many.

My legs grew heavy as I walked. Probably I was suffering from exhaustion. Probably I was in some kind of shock. One thing was for certain: I was not in a state to be making important decisions. But when everything you love has been lost, you cease to care about such things. When you've gained everything you've worked for and still come away feeling empty inside, you'll do anything to fill that chasm. Even fight. Even die. Rage slips in so easily, when love has bled away.

And I had lost a lot of love that night.

I stopped outside the space where my mother had been bound and gave my oldest friend a proper burial. I dropped petals of white upon Illya's grave. So tired of red and black, I knelt and pressed my forehead to the earth, and said, “It was not in vain.”

As I lifted my head, a petal stuck to my forehead, and I laughed softly, saying, “Yes. I will keep a piece of you with me always. I will—”

I stopped, my gaze trailing through the forest toward my mother's tree. There, in the center of the clearing, was a body.

A nymph, her skin pale. Her blood coating the ground.

“No,” I whispered, pushing to my feet. I hurried over to check the creature's pulse. Her skin was cold, as if she'd been dead for hours. She must've stumbled here during the battle, and used her blood to free the Queen.

Yes
, I thought as my gaze traveled to the great, cracked pine. The empty pine.

My mother was gone.

For a moment, a sense of vertigo washed over me as I tried to put the pieces together. How had the nymph come so far? I'd seen her in battle, fighting a satyr. Trying to choke him. I'd turned away just as he'd rammed his horns into her belly.

So much blood, and yet she had made it here. So many trees, and yet, she had known where to look. How?

One glance at the ground showed a single green leaf, the kind of leaf another queen might drop. Of course, she had been here earlier, so it made sense that there would be leaves. Except this leaf was curled up in the nymph's hand, like the morbid calling card of a murderous queen.

A glittering queen.

I shook my head, unable to make sense of it. The Bright Lady was the last person who'd want to unleash my mother on the world. Wasn't she? The first thing the Dark Lady would do is destroy her. At least she'd try. And then, she'd come for …

“No.” My gaze trailed to the castle, to the place where the humans slept. The place where he slept.

Oh, Darkness.

I realized it didn't matter how my mother had broken free. All that mattered was what she did with that freedom.

I picked up my skirt and raced to the castle.

45

T
ayl
o
R

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed were the blankets. Elora must've glamoured them blue, but I'd been too mired in my own self-loathing to notice. All the little things she did for me, I managed to miss.

Instead, I'd focused on the bad things, the murderous things.

But all along the way, she'd been sweet to me. Telling me stories to help me sleep. Sitting through the most awkward dinner of my life while my parents rejected me, and then telling them off. Holding me when I felt guilty over my brother's death. Kissing me when I was too afraid to ask for what I wanted.

Kissing, and other things.

I bolted from the bed. I needed to see her, needed to tell her I'd been wrong, and the battle had messed me up. That battle would mess anyone up, and watching Keegan die … no human could bear witness to that, and be okay.

No person could.

But we could heal together now, and I wouldn't push her away again. I'd just needed some time to work through what
I'd witnessed. To work through what I'd done. What we'd done.

Yes.

I raced from the room. But rather than tearing through the castle and out into the trees, I stopped at the room down the hall, knocking softly.

Alexia answered the door, hair plastered to her face. Eyes red. But it didn't exactly look like she'd been crying. It looked more like she hadn't slept or eaten in twenty-four hours and maybe she needed a little help.

“Is Elora in here?” I asked.

She shook her head. “She came by earlier and hugged me and Kylie, but she didn't stay.”

I nodded, anxious to go find her. But Kylie was my family too now, all three of them were, and Alexia looked like she was going to pass out.

“How's it going?” I asked softly.

“Intense.” She ran a hand through her hair and it got stuck. “She hasn't gotten up. She just lies in the bed and cries and doesn't go anywhere. Not even to see him in his … ”

Casket
, I thought, and an image of Snow White flashed through my mind. Keegan's casket was made of glass too, and it was supposed to be magic. But nobody would wake him with a kiss.

Not his true love, whoever that might've been. He never got to find out.
I swallowed, grabbing the doorframe for support.

“I should come in,” I said, and it was halfway between a question and a statement.

Alexia nodded, and stepped out of my way.

Inside the room, the air felt heavy. Humid, like all of Kylie's tears were hovering in the air. And since this was Faerie, I guess it was possible. Maybe tears turned into clouds, and rained back on us when we needed a reminder of what we'd lost.

As if we could ever forget.

And there she was, lying on a bed with burgundy blankets, which Elora had probably glamoured to suit Alexia's tastes. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. It didn't really matter, but sometimes stupid thoughts like these kept me from breaking down when things got too heavy.

Not heavy. Heartbreaking. Our friend is dead.

Don't you love it when your brain reminds you of things? I started to break down before I even made it to the bed. Kylie saw me, and I guess I was speaking her language, because she didn't wave me off.

She opened her arms.

I crawled onto the bed and wrapped her up in my arms, and together we lay there crying and not saying anything. The words would come later, the stories of what had made Keegan amazing. I could see us sitting up every night for the rest of our lives, telling stories around the campfire. Eventually, the stories would repeat, because he hadn't been that old, and— 

Oh, God.

I closed my eyes against the pain, and she clung to me. And I just started saying “I'm sorry,” as if that could do anything. I was sorry for her. Sorry for him. Sorry for me.

So sorry, so sorry, so sorry …

Eventually, she pulled back. Her face was puffy, like she'd been hit. And she had, over and over again, in the gut. In the soul.

The heart.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don't know.”

“I mean, me. My future. My life. Where am I supposed to go now?”

You could go home
, I thought. But home was a complicated place for Kylie, and for me.

Home is where the heart is
, I thought, and then,
Home is in the casket.

“I have no family,” she said. “I mean, I could go home to Auntie Jane, and what? Bring back his body? Explain his death to a bunch of humans? They wouldn't understand. They'd put me into therapy or, or … ” She stopped, running a hand through her hair. “Lock me in a psych ward. How could I explain any of this?”

“You couldn't,” I said, brushing a tear from her cheek. I felt weird doing it, but I couldn't be afraid of these things anymore. I'd looked death in the face. Hell, I'd caused it. I couldn't let insecurity keep me from helping my friends.

My family.

“None of us could explain it,” I said. “I mean, we could make up a story. Say we were kidnapped, you know? We
were
, in a way … ”

“Yeah, then my life would become about that. Inventing a kidnapper. Doing the talk-show circuit.
Woohoo
.” Her face crumpled, and that calm bled away. No, it fell away. “I won't let them make a spectacle out of me.”

“No,” I said, stroking her hair awkwardly. Even if I wanted to be supportive, I'd still have to learn how to be affectionate with people. I'd still have to learn how to touch people without it feeling
wrong
, like I didn't know what I was doing. “I don't think any of us belongs there anymore. Or maybe we never did. But now it just feels—”

“So far away,” she said, looking up at me. Her eyes were still warm, in spite of the redness. In spite of the tragedy.

“In a different space and time,” I said.

“But we don't belong here. We don't belong there. We don't belong anywhere. Should we lie down and die?”

“We belong together,” I said. I didn't even have to think about it. It felt natural to say. “You, me, and Alexia. Elora too. We're a family.”

“You don't mean that.” She wiped at her nose.

“I do. What, like we're just going to bail? Go off on adventures without you? What if we need help from a
deer
?”

She started to laugh. It was gone in an instant, but still, it had happened. I'd made her laugh. “God, that was … ”

“Incredible. You were incredible.”

She smiled, and Alexia, lingering by the door, swaying a little, came to kneel next to the bed. “We can do this,” Alexia said, taking Kylie's hand. “It'll be hell for a while, a part of it will always be hell, but we can do this. Together.”

“I guess there was never any question about you staying here, huh?” I said, shifting my gaze to Alexia. “You hate humans,” I explained.

She laughed.

“She hates everybody,” Kylie said. “Except me, and … ” Just like that, she dissolved into tears again. She probably would for a while. Every mention of him must've felt like a knife in the heart. Worse than bones
cracking.

I stretched my leg. I hadn't taken any more faerie drugs, but my body didn't hurt so badly.
Maybe I'm still in shock
, I thought as Alexia leaned over the bed. “I hate everyone, but I loved him,” she said softly.

“He won you over, in the end. It was the sex jokes, right?” I asked. I was trying to get her to smile, to get a laugh from Kylie. Anything but tears and sadness.

But Alexia bit her lip, and tears flooded her eyes.

Well, shit.

“Yeah,” she said, laughing through the tears. “It was. He made me feel so normal. I've never felt normal before. Everybody treated me like I was different.”

“You were the queen of the school,” I said.

“Yeah, and I worked my ass off to get there. I dedicated my life to it.” She shook her head. Her eyes were dark, and her light brown cheeks were flushed with red. “Even then, I knew it was a precarious arrangement. If I wasn't perfect every second, they'd turn their backs on me.”

“You
are
perfect,” Kylie said, sniffing quietly. Holding our hands.

“No,” Alexia said. “But I am loved. That's what matters. I'm loved, and I can kick some faerie ass. So I'll get by.”

“We all will,” I said, my eyes drifting toward the window. Darkness was rising there, warning us of an arrival.

No, not warning. Just telling
, I thought, but my heart felt heavy in my chest. I couldn't explain it.

“She's here,” I said. “I'll bring her up, and we can make plans. For dinner tonight,” I added when Kylie's eyes went wide. Probably it was too soon to be making other plans. Plans meant moving on, and Kylie needed to stay in this moment for a while. That was all right. We'd stay here with her.

“I'll be right back,” I said. Out of the room I went, down the twisting stairs, into the entryway.

She was here. She was
here
. I couldn't wait to pull her into my arms. I'd tell her I was sorry until she forgave me, kiss her until she was dizzy with love.

I pulled open the doors. And there she was, the Lady of Darkness, inky black swirls circling her arms like jewelry. Beautiful and terrible and wild.

But it wasn't Elora who reached out for me with porcelain skin. Black dress flowing around her. Wings shooting out of her back.

“I've been waiting a long time for this,” the Dark Lady said.

“How is that possible?” I asked, staggering backward. “We only just met … ”

To my surprise, she grinned. Her teeth slipped past her lips, sharp as a vampire's and stained on the ends. “And yet you remind me of someone I knew long ago.”

How long ago?
I thought.
Seventeen years? Eighteen?
But I didn't say it. I kept one bullet in the chamber of my mind. It was the only bullet I had left. Even now, I was afraid it wouldn't wound her enough. With no witnesses, how much power did a secret hold? I could tell her, and she could bury me.

The end.

“It isn't fair to punish me for what someone else did,” I said finally, taking another step toward the stairs. Like I stood a chance against her. Like I could just run.

Already she was smiling down at me, so smug with herself. “I am not punishing you for what others have done. I am punishing you for what
you
have done.”

“And what, exactly, is that?”

For a second, her smile slipped. I knew what she was thinking, even if she wouldn't
say
it. And I couldn't convince her that she was wrong. Couldn't convince her I hadn't
sullied
the princess.

“Fine, don't say it,” I spat. “But if I'm going to be punished, I should at least get to stand trial. Plead my case. Call witnesses.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Her teeth cut into her lips as she said, “There will be no witnesses. Now, come.”

She tugged on me, the way a toddler tugs on a puppy's leash. She wasn't even touching me—oh, she wouldn't
deign
to do that. Still, she pulled, her darkness wrapping around my neck, yanking me through the doors, along the path to the Unseelie cliffs. No forest led gradually down the mountain here; instead, there was a steep drop-off, with an ocean spreading out far below.

Even the water was black.

“What are you going to do?” I asked as we neared the edge. Down below, that water was not smooth and inviting. Sharp rocks jutted up to impale me. To grind my bones to dust.

“A little experiment.” The Dark Lady grinned. Her lips were ruby red, matching the strands that laced through her ebony hair. “I want to know if a mortal with faerie wings can fly.”

“It's glamour,” I lied.

“Once upon a time, I would've believed that,” she said, forcing me closer to the edge. “I would have seen what I wanted to see. But now—”

“Oh, sure. You're not punishing me for past transgressions at all. Keep telling yourself that. Keep lying.”

“Faeries do not lie.”

“Maybe not to me. But to themselves … ”

“One flick of the wrist, boy, and I could end your life.” She slid toward me, like ink sliding through water. Like a knife sliding into a body. “And even then, I would be granting you a mercy.” Her black eyes shifted to the cliffs. “Much more delicious would be to tear you limb from limb—”

“Blah, blah, blah, and have a tea party with my blood. Dance on my bones. To be honest, I'm over it.”

She scoffed. “You're over it? He's over it!” she announced to the sky, to the darkness that was so much a part of her. “And why is that?”

“Because you haven't killed me yet, which means you want something.”

Her body tensed. Behind her, I saw a glimpse of movement. A flash of red coming up the hill. My heart leapt. Then it crashed. I couldn't expect Elora to risk her life for me this time.

I would go down swinging, and Elora would survive.

“You want to know what I know,” I told the Queen, or the
fallen
Queen, as Elora approached. On soft feet she ran, skirt clutched in her fists. Her mother didn't hear her. I didn't hear her.

But I caught her eyes, and tried to say
I'm sorry
without words.
I'm sorry I rejected you.
I'm sorry I didn't handle things better. I'm sorry it had to end this way, before I got to tell you the truth: That one second with you was better than seventeen years alone, and I've lived, really lived, through knowing you.
Through loving you.