Elixir (21 page)

It was a bear.

It was one of the Animalia.

Ursaline! I thought. But the hope that had just ignited in my chest faltered. It could be anyone. There were hundreds of Animalia that took the form of bears, even some with that same shade of honey-colored coat. It was a vain hope.

I heard a sound—kind of a cross between growling and singing. I knew that melody; I’d heard it so many nights as the tree rocked back and forth in the wind. Could it be?

“Ursaline!” I called out.

But there was no answer.

I lifted my head and I saw that the bear was looking at me.

Her head was high, her wet black nose sniffing at the air.

Could it be Ursaline? I recognized the sparkle in her all-black eyes, the way her fur clumped together into tendrils, like dreadlocks, the little grunting sounds she made as she lumbered along. It had to be her!

“Ursaline, it’s me!” I called out. “It’s Mab.”

But Ursaline’s shaggy brow only furrowed. She sniffed the air again.

And then she turned her back on me and ambled off towards the crowd.

“Ursaline! No!”

Kicking the Wolfman and wresting one of my hands free, I reached out and managed to barely touch the edge of her fur as she brushed past.

She turned towards me, but her expression made me draw my hand back.

She was growling, standing up on her hind legs with a terrifying roar.

I shook inside, starting to cry. I’d seen Ursaline angry before, as a child, but never like that.

Satisfied, she dropped back down onto all fours and slowly walked away.

A lump came to my throat as I watched her lumbering off.

She hadn’t recognized me.

Maybe it wasn’t her? I told myself. It could have been some other Animalia. It had been twenty-two years. Could I really still recognize Ursaline after all that time? It could have been some other bear. That was what I kept telling myself.
Because the alternative was too awful.

My body slacked, slumping against the Wolfman’s back in defeat. No one was going to recognize me. No one was going to believe who I was. Everyone thought I was just a human. Maybe they were right.

The blood was rushing to my head from being carried upside down. If he kept carrying me like this I was going to faint.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” I managed to cry, remembering some of my Wolfish, trying to get his attention.

He growled something in reply. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I caught the phrases “penalty of the law” and “Queen’s court.”

He was arresting me, I realized dimly. Now that I thought about it, I had seen something gleam around his neck—it was the Queen’s medallion.

I must have broken some law by walking through the Vale as a human.

I stopped trying to kick him. Getting arrested was far from ideal circumstances, but there was a silver lining in that it would mean I’d be taken to the Queen’s palace—where trials took place. If I’d been on my own, I might not have gotten through the Goblins that guarded the gates. At least the Wolfman would get me inside the complex. Once I was in court, if I could convince one of the officials to believe me that I was who I said I was, could they help me get an audience with the Queen?

Then again, I was human. The Wolfman might be taking me to where Obadiah said they took all the stolen human children. I wasn’t a child—but still—I was an alien, a stranger, a threat. If they took me to the dungeons it might give me the chance to find out what had happened to my Shadow.
If they didn’t kill me first.

I was almost at the point of blacking out when at last I felt the Wolfman come to a halt. The cobblestones were shimmering a rich, lustrous gold. Even hauling me over his shoulder, the Wolfman had reached the Queen’s court faster than I ever would have just walking on my own.

He set me down unceremoniously on the ground. I staggered, my knees buckling out from under me, the blood rushing painfully back to my limbs. The Wolfman grabbed me by the arm and dragged me roughly across the courtyard. There were doors up ahead in the enormous wall, at heights you’d have to fly to. How was I going to get up there? And then I saw another door, low in the wall, like the opening of a cave. I didn’t remember this door. Then again, the last time I’d been here, I’d been flying. This must be the door for humans. Something told me nothing good was behind it.

CHAPTER 15

A
squat Goblin guard sat at the entrance to the door. He regarded us with an expression simultaneously bored and hostile as he slowly chewed something, making popping sounds with his jaw.

The Wolfman dragged me over to him, growling at the Goblin guard; I detected the word “prisoner.”

The Goblin guard just continued to chew whatever was in his mouth.

Irate, the Wolfman repeated what he had just said, louder this time.

Eventually the Goblin gave a nod, and then grabbed my arm as the Wolfman released me.

The Goblin surveyed me with no more interest than if I was a shipment of crabapples, and then he turned and pressed one of the stones in the wall. Slowly the gate creaked open. I saw the guard hand some kind of payment to the Wolfman, who, satisfied, trotted away, and I was alone in the custody of the Goblin.

The gate came to a shuddering stop, not open all the way, but enough for us to walk through.

The Goblin dragged me along, even more roughly than the Wolfman had, and I struggled to keep up. He led me down a long passageway. Other Goblin guards sat all along the hall, laughing, having spitting contests with each other and playing knucklebones—with what looked like actual knucklebones. I hoped those bones weren’t human.

At the end of the passage was an enormous door. It swung open with a bang.

And standing inside it was not some squat Goblin guard, but a handsome young Elf dressed in a spider-silk suit, his face so radiantly beautiful that it was eerily impossible to distinguish if he was male or female.

He bowed to me.

“My Lady Mab,” he said, bending so low that his forehead almost grazed the polished stone floor. “Please forgive our earlier reception. Her Majesty the Queen is delighted to see you. Overjoyed. She sends me to express her joy,” he said, but his expression did not match whatever happiness he was trying to convey. In truth, he looked scared. “My companion,” said the Elf, his eyes flashing angrily at the Goblin, whom I noticed was cowering now on the other side of the door, “did not recognize who you were. He will be dealt with later. But you are a most honored guest. Please, may I take your coat? May I offer you some refreshments? Elixir, perhaps?” He snapped his long fingers and a goblet appeared, hovering in midair.

It was foolish to use magic just to manifest a cup. Because of the Elixir drought, magic was limited, precious. You didn’t waste it upon trifles. Once we’d used magic to do our laundry and heat our tea, but those days were gone. It might take just as much magical energy to make that goblet of Elixir appear than was contained in the goblet itself. I wondered why the Elf had done it—he must be awfully desperate. But why?

The cup hovered in front of my fingers. It was definitely filled with Elixir. I could smell it. But I hesitated. For all I knew it was poisoned. I didn’t believe all this flowery nonsense about the Queen being overjoyed to see me. Why would the Queen want to see me? She’d abandoned me. Something was fishy about this. The overly nice reception I was getting now from this Elf made me much more nervous than the rudeness of the Goblin. It felt like a trap.

“And once again,” the Elf said, babbling apologies, “please excuse our earlier reception. Our gatekeeper is new. He should not have been allowed to man the door so soon. His insouciance will not be tolerated, I assure you. He will be punished for these transgressions . . .”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” I said, casting a sidelong glance at the miserable creature cowering behind the door. I almost wished I was still in the custody of the Goblin. At least the Goblin’s rudeness had been genuine. This Elf with the shining face, I couldn’t figure out.

“You do not want the Elixir?” said the Elf, seeing that I had left the goblet untouched.

I shook my head.

“I did not mean to insult you by offering it. I am so sorry. It shall disappear at once.” He snapped his fingers again and—in another massive waste of magic—it disappeared.

I couldn’t get anywhere with this Elf butler. By aiming to please me in every way, he was just pissing me off. The sooner we got inside the palace, the better.

“Please just take me to the Queen,” I said.

“As you wish,” replied the Elf, walking quickly down the hall, his feet seeming to never entirely touch the floor.

I followed after him.

We came to the Great Hall. I remembered this room—Ursaline used to take me here when I was a child, for holidays, when the Queen hosted great public spectacles for all the Fey, to make us like her better. I would sit on Ursaline’s furry lap and watch the fairy ladies dancing—waltzing in midair—and wishing that I’d be that graceful when I grew up.

The Great Hall was mostly empty now. My footsteps echoed loudly on the polished agate floor, its concentric circles expanding ever outwards like the rings of an ancient tree.

Columns of stalactites and stalagmites lined the walls, Elixir slowly running in rivulets down them to drip into the underground rivers in the floor—where the gondolas would come to ferry the Queen’s guests to parties, deep underground inside the biggest fairy mound in all of Mannahatta. A thousand tiny lights—the Perpetual Candles—shimmered like dragonflies, frozen in midair. They cast a sparkling glow on the slick sandstone architecture, making everything sparkle as if it was encrusted with tiny diamonds.

As a child, I’d thought this was the most beautiful room in the world. But seeing it now—empty, without all the guests talking and laughing and dancing—it was cold. And I felt uneasy.

Then I saw movement at the far end of the hall. The Elf and I weren’t alone here. About a half-dozen fairies flitted about at the edges of the room. They were setting up a long table and appeared to be laying it with all sorts of food.

We walked closer and I realized it was human food. I could smell it. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything since Obadiah and I had shared a few snacks in the New Year’s Eve ball, trying not to spill crumbs all over ourselves as we tried to eat potato chips around a pole inside a sphere—it seemed like a year ago, instead of less than twenty-four hours.

How had they gotten human food in the Vale? Did they have it here because they knew I was human? Was it even real? It smelled like food, but would it evaporate as soon as I touched it?

As I edged closer, I saw that all my favorite foods were laid out upon the table—huge dishes of crème brûlée with a crunchy, caramelized brown sugar topping that a fire Djinn was torching with his flaming fingers. He flashed a fiery grin at me as I passed.

But that wasn’t all—there were plates of grilled cheese, pots of mashed potatoes, chocolate éclairs, dishes of dark, twisted licorice candy—all my favorite foods, thrown haphazardly together, like a banquet designed by a three-year-old.

Why was the Queen going through all this trouble on my behalf? Why was she acting so overjoyed to see me? The obsequious servant, the Elixir, the food—it was too much. It was weird. If it was supposed to make me feel welcome, it wasn’t working. It was making me feel more uncomfortable.

I heard the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the room. Another Goblin was walking towards me, but he was much better dressed than the guard. There was something very familiar about his face. I recognized those hideous features from somewhere. And then it hit me.

“Korvus Korax!” I said aloud.

It was the Goblin who had helped the Queen grab the baby out of the crib and shove her into the sack the night I’d become a changeling.

“Mab, how delightful to see you,” he replied in a tone that said he didn’t find the experience delightful at all.

Korvus seemed like he’d done well for himself the past twenty-two years. He was wearing the robe of an advisor, with all sorts of tassels and medallions and insignia stuck all over it—the Queen gave you more doodads for your gown the more honors you received, until your gown was so heavy you could hardly walk. He appeared to be waddling under the weight of his elaborate cloak. His scaly skin was polished to a high sheen, showing the wealth he’d acquired, but despite all the grooming, he was still ugly.

“You’re looking well,” I said awkwardly, in an attempt to make conversation.

“It’s amazing where hard work will get you,” sniffed Korvus.

Couldn’t he just take a compliment?

Should I ask Korvus about what happened to my Shadow? Or if he knew what had happened to Eva? Would he know? I was about to speak when I heard another sound, a rustling of feathers.

And then I saw the Fairy Queen.

She stepped from behind a stalactite column, and I had to wonder if she’d been waiting there the whole time, listening to us.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw her. For a moment, I forgot that I was furious at her, and all I could feel was awe.