The Treachery of Beautiful Things (31 page)

“Yes. And no. He’s a knight, the knight of the Edge.”

“Titania seemed to hate him.”

Puck laughed then, a bitter twist of his face. “
Despise
is nearer the mark. Yet she still wants him. Always will. He serves only Oberon, though the queen has power over him
as well. He could have been hers. Titania doesn’t care about holding the line against your world. If anything, she wants to bring the barriers down. She just wants to experience what you have, all of it, for good or ill. So Jack stands against her, but sometimes, doing that means conceding to her. Your brother was a case in point. But it isn’t Jack’s fault. He’s the knight of the Edge, holding the barriers from both sides. Jack rejected her long ago, and again for you. He gave her up or failed her, she would say. He lost to Oberon and she can’t ever forgive him that. It’s a tale of something darker than love turned to hate. Jack is
his
knight. His, mine, and yours.” Puck made a sound, something primal deep in his throat. “Don’t you see it yet, Jenny Wren? On every border between the mortal and the Faerie Realm—in the earth, on the sea, on every front—there’s a Jack, a guardian. And here, in the forest, he’s Jack o’ the Forest, Jack in Green. He’s the knight, like in that game of yours—chess or cards or…”

“Every game has its Jacks,” she said, the sadness of it pulling down the elation of sudden understanding. “The thing that acts as a wild card. It can’t be counted on or predicted. A weapon, even. But he’s in other places too, isn’t he? And do you know what else a Jack is, Puck?”

He eyed her suspiciously, rubbing his neck.

Jenny smiled. “I do.” And she closed her hand around the tiny spike of iron in her palm.

T
he sun rose high in the sky as they walked through the forest, that curious procession of faerie folk accompanying Jenny. The white gown didn’t hinder her, and she barely noticed the crown of flowers on her head. But the iron jack was heavy in her hand. Still, she clung to it. One piece of her world in all this madness. One thing to hold on to. Eventually the faerie folk fell away, until only Puck remained with her and they stood at the mouth of a cave, a dark hole in a cliff face. Endless dark amid the life of the forest.

It was dark as a pit, a deep and ancient, fetid darkness that spoke of hidden monsters. Jenny forced herself forward. Every muscle protested, every nerve warned, but she made herself step into the shadows.

“Be careful, Jenny,” Puck whispered.

“You aren’t coming?”

She didn’t need to look at him for an answer. Some things had to be faced alone. She understood that now. And if she ever wanted to see Jack again, she had no choice.

“I’ve brought you here, fulfilled my part to both you and the king. You’re here and you’re here willingly. Be careful. Keep your wits about you. I’ll be right here. I’ll wait and, if the Elders will it, I’ll see you out of the Realm again. With or without him.”

She smiled and then bent to kiss his cheek. Puck inhaled sharply, but she didn’t care. “Thank you. But I won’t be coming back without him.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But I’ll still wait. I meant it, about your heart. And my folk both know and appreciate that. We kept watch for Jack by the riverside. We’ll be here for you.”

She nodded, and walked into the darkness.

The path wound down into the earth, deep and endless. She followed it for what seemed like hours without being able to see it, using one hand on the strangely smooth walls to guide her on her way, the other clenched tightly around the jack. Once her eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, she thought she saw a glow coming from the depths, the hint of a fire in the distance. Hellfire, she thought briefly and dismissed it. That was an old confusion. Oberon was not the devil. He was just tied to ancient traditions that suggested it.

Traditions like sacrificing a maiden to him on May Day.

May Day, m’aider, help me
…Words tangled together in her mind, twisted into one another with panic and fear.

Jenny took a breath and forced herself onward. The light bloomed, and up ahead, she saw the tunnel open out into a chamber.

“Jenny Wren,” said a molten voice. It shivered through her body, touching something deep, making her legs weaken and her stomach knot. Her lips warmed as if she could still feel Jack’s lips pressed against them. She drew in a breath and opened eyes she hadn’t realized were closed to find the vast darkness falling away with firelight.

“Brave, Jenny Wren. But not ready for me yet, not quite.” There was amusement in the voice, but it went beyond simple pleasure. A modicum of malice, perhaps, the hint of a threat, and the promise of things Jenny didn’t understand yet. Things that called to her, tempting, taunting. “So what brings you here? I take it this is no social call.” Oberon laughed, and Jenny felt a powerful urge to turn and run. She knew him now. The magic of the May Queen filled in the gaps in her meager knowledge. Oberon had so many names. Alberich, king of the elves, Amadán, the trickster, Cernunnos. Ancient memories whispered in the back of her mind, memories she didn’t know she had, names that chimed with power. The horned god. And the mask he wore now was Oberon. Charming, elegant, terrible.

A man stepped from the shadows of the cave, the king from her vision, swathed in a cloak of leaves much like Jack’s. But these leaves were spiked and glossy, holly leaves.
Clumps of red berries stood out against the cloak like drops of blood. Through the black curls of his hair, she was sure she could make out horns, a crown of antlers. He was handsome too, devilishly handsome.

He’s not the devil,
she warned herself, though that was the image that immediately sprang back into her mind.
No more than Mab is.
But it felt like he was. The devil of the old stories Grams used to tell—the suave, silver-tongued persuader in black at the back door at midnight. The one who charmed every member of the household before destroying them with their own greed. Oberon was the one who seduced the chambermaid and left her with a bastard child, or the one who spirited away a baby, leaving a changeling in its place. He was the card shark who stole their last penny and then offered to play for their souls with his marked cards in a game they could never win.

And when he smiled at her, something in her treacherous heart wanted to see that smile forever.

The king. Her mind filled with the litany of his names, a sea of echoes across time and cultures. She felt her knees go slack. If he touched her now, she’d be lost; she knew that. He was the king from her dream. The one who had put her on the hawthorn throne and commanded it to build the cage around her so she could not flee.

The one for whom she had worn this very gown. Or something like it.

The one who controlled Jack.

Jenny had but one protection. She closed her hand into a fist so tight, the iron jack jabbed into her skin, opening the cut again with its sharp points. Blood and iron…the strongest magic of all. Blood and iron mixed and the pain was a burr, bringing her back to her senses. Oberon stood less than a foot from her, so close that she could feel the warmth that rolled from his body, could smell the tang of salt-sweat. His hand, long-fingered and elegant, hovered just above her cheek, and even as she watched, his head dipped toward her.

Jenny shied back before he could kiss her, and Oberon paused, a question stirring his endless eyes. If she leaned in to him now, she’d never want for anything again. Oberon would keep her safe and keep her out of Mab’s clutches. He would protect the Edge so that Tom would always be safe. He would fill her days with joys and pleasures that would be beyond anything she would otherwise know. He wanted her to come to him. He could force her, no doubt, enchant her or beguile her, but he didn’t. The May Queen had to be willing or the magic wouldn’t work. It was her choice. He could offer her anything, and deliver it.

But there was something he couldn’t give her.

The ghost of Jack’s kiss played on her lips. She remembered his body enfolding her, bringing her out of the dark cold of the river, back to the light and warmth of the forest.

She couldn’t leave Jack like this, lost in the darkness. He needed the sun, he needed the trees.

Oberon moved toward her, the bulk of his body dwarfing her own.

Their lips met, but she felt nothing. His heart was as cold and empty as the winter wind.

Oberon caught her shoulders and thrust her back from him, studying her at arm’s length.

“You’ve the kiss of an innocent, Jenny Wren.” His liquid voice rumbled through her. “It’s almost as if you’re kissing another. Whatever are you doing here? And why do you not react to my kiss,
Gwenhyfer
?”

“I—I came looking for—for Jack.”

“Jack o’ the Forest? And what do you offer me in return?”

She stretched out her hand and uncurled her fingers. Oberon recoiled, his eyes widening, the pupils pooling to fill them with blackness. His upper lip drew back in a snarl.

“You threaten me?”

She couldn’t show fear. Whatever she did, she had to hold firm. “No. But Jack is my friend. He rescued me. He took my necklace and gave me this in exchange. This is all I have left, but I’ll trade it for him. An iron jack for a forest Jack. My brother may be safe from Titania, but I can’t forsake Jack.”

A slow smile spread over Oberon’s face, bringing his handsomeness forward once more. His eyes flushed green for an instant before resolving back to their endless black.

“You snatched your brother from Titania? And you’d give me iron as a gift.” He laughed and turned away from her. “Iron is poison to our kind. Most metals are unless they are pure, like gold and silver. Even then, they must be given freely. And yet you come and offer me
poison
for my most prized knight.” He glanced over his shoulder. “It shows bravery, I suppose, or stupidity. And the iron explains your resistance to my will. But no matter. I want no payment for him. He isn’t going anywhere. He’s mine. And will remain so.” He turned and walked away from her.

“No!” Jenny exclaimed, marching after him. “This is all I have. You can’t turn it down.”

He twisted back to face her abruptly, brutal in his speed and agility. “Not so, Jenny Wren. Jack calls you the May Queen. If that’s true, you have much indeed to offer. So here is my bargain—a wager.” He smiled knowingly, a smile that made her stomach tighten. “Enter into a wager with me, Jenny Wren, and if you win, you can leave here with your Jack.”

“And…and if I lose…”

His fingers slid down the side of her cheek, too intimate, a caress that seemed intent only on claiming her. “Then no one goes anywhere.”

The cavern unfolded before her, a vast, dark space lit by sparks of light in the gloom. Here and there, fires burned, vast jumbles of wood and flames that belched forth a thick
and pungent smoke. The air itself seemed red around them, but farther on, all was darkness. She remembered her vision of the ball. This then was where it had been. She tilted her head back and stared upward. Roots of great trees twisted together and then spread out, like the ribs of a vast cathedral ceiling far above her. They merged again, twisting their way in and out of the rocks and earth, to form pillars all around the chamber. She was far beneath the forest. In the stony heart of the Realm itself.

Oberon’s cold hand pressed into the small of her back, pushing her forward. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could just make them out, skirting the edges of the cavern, figures, hundreds of figures. Their eyes made those points of brightness she had seen. But they didn’t show their faces. She didn’t want them to.

“What…what is this place?” she asked, ashamed of the hesitation in her voice. She glanced back at the King of Faerie.

He grinned, his teeth very white in the darkness. “A waiting room,” he chuckled. “You asked me for Jack. It was a very polite request and one I’ll respect, if you can win him, but nothing’s free, nor without risk.”

“This is part of your wager?”

His hand moved to the curve of her neck and she flinched away. He laughed outright, and in that sound she truly heard the Amadán, the Trickster, the King of Fools. It sliced her nerves like a blade through paper.