The Faerie Ring (20 page)

Before Rieker could answer, Tiki turned and ran.

Chapter Nineteen

L
EO
rode low over Diablo’s neck, enjoying the wild rush of wind against his face. With weather like this, it was easy to believe the reports that a tornado had destroyed a barn and torn up several fields in Devonshire yesterday. His horse shied as the wind whipped the branches of a nearby tree from side to side in a feverish dance. Leo worked the reins with a firm hand, the bite of the cold air somehow sharpening his ability to think.

Tucked inside his jacket was a page where he had sketched the flowing lines and swirls he had seen on Elizabeth’s skin as he remembered them. There was one person who might know something about the strange mark.

Leo had known Mamie all of his life. His mother’s old lady-in-waiting was a fascinating woman, if a bit eccentric. She favored using herbs and flowers to tend to cuts and ills, and said the birds and plants spoke to her. As boys, he and Arthur had whispered that she was a witch, but a good witch. She had told them many interesting stories of faeries and legends of old as they were growing up, always as though the stories were true. There were a few, even now, that he couldn’t say were fact or fiction. If anyone would know if this mark meant something or not, it would be Mamie.

She lived at the far end of St. James’s Park in a cottage known fondly as the Birdkeeper’s Cottage, as her husband had for many years tended the black swans, pelicans, and other birds that lived in the park. Leo was pleased to see a feathery plume of smoke drifting from the brick of her chimney as he approached.

He pulled up to the small cottage and dismounted, tying the reins to the gnarled branch of a nearby apple tree. His knock sounded loud on the small wooden door, echoing in the still afternoon air. He shuffled his feet as he waited, nervous for no reason.

The old woman opened the door and blinked in surprise when she saw him standing there. “Prince Leopold?”

“Hello, Mamie.” Leo leaned down to kiss the remarkably soft skin of her cheeks. “How are you?”

“I’m well, dear boy, and you?” the old lady replied in a soft, melodic voice. She peered out the door and raised an eyebrow at him when she spotted the black horse grazing nearby. “Here on your own, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t think I needed an escort to ride in the park,” Leo said.

A corner of her wrinkled face lifted in a smile. “You always were one to do as you pleased, weren’t you?” She waved her hand at him. “Come in, come in. Did you see the hailstorm earlier?” She shuffled back inside. “Hail the size of chestnuts. It’s a message, sure as sure.”

Leo followed, ducking through the small frame of the door, debating whether to ask who would send a message of hail.

“Can I get you some tea, dear?” Mamie asked. “The kettle’s on. I’ve chamomile today.”

“Thank you, but no,” Leo said. “I can’t stay long.”

Mamie sank into an old wooden rocker with a worn floral cushion on the seat. The windows of the cozy room overlooked a long stretch of lake, with Buckingham Palace visible in the distance. Mamie reached for a delicate china teacup and took a sip, holding the cup and saucer cradled in her hands. “How is your mother?”

“She continues to decline. The doctors aren’t quite sure what to make of it.”

Mamie eyed the young prince. “Have you any word on the ring yet?”

A frown crossed Leo’s face. “Well, that’s getting to it straightaway. No, Mamie, there’s been no word on the ring. But there is something.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the paper, the page crackling as he unfolded it. He moved closer to the old woman, resting one knee on the floor to be at eye level with her.

“Have you ever seen a mark that looks something like this?” He held the drawing out for her to see.

The old woman set the teacup back on the little table and reached for the paper. She stared at the drawing in fascination and after a moment ran a crooked finger over the swirls. Without lifting her eyes, she asked, “Where did you get this?”

“I drew it.” Leo’s eyes moved from his drawing to Mamie’s face and back again, trying to decipher her reaction.

Her blue eyes searched his face. “You’ve always been an exceptional artist, Leo. Did you see this somewhere?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did.” His eyes flitted uneasily around the room. “It was a mark on someone’s arm. Very unusual, you see, and for some reason it caught my fancy, so I thought to draw it.” He gave Mamie what he hoped was a charming smile. “With your knowledge of nature and cures, you were the only one I could think of who might be able to explain it to me. Have you seen this mark before? Is it caused by some sort of ailment?”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mamie’s voice had a hushed quality to it, as though the mark represented something sacred.

A surge of excitement blazed through Leo’s chest. “Yes. In a strange sort of way. But what is it?”

“An fáinne sí,”
Mamie said softly. “The faerie ring.”

“A
faerie
ring?” Leo repeated. The sudden brightness he’d felt quickly turned to black despair. His suspicion that Elizabeth and the urchin had something to do with the disappearance of the ring flared again.

Mamie looked over at him. “It is a mark of the fey.”

His stomach spiraled downward in a circle of dread as his worst fears were confirmed. Faeries. Arthur had been right. He stared down at the swirls and arcs that etched across the page. He could still see the same black lines dancing around Elizabeth’s thin wrist. He frowned at Mamie. “I thought a faerie ring was a circle of mushrooms growing in a field.”

Mamie smiled. “The fey do love to play jokes on mortals. The mushroom circle is one of their favorites.” She ran her fingers over the drawing again, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But a true faerie ring is not found on the ground. This particular mark is quite rare. It comes from a line of fey who were said to have died out centuries ago.” She raised her head to eye him curiously. “Who is it that bears the mark?”

Leo hesitated. “A girl at the masked ball. She was asking questions about Mother’s ring.”

Mamie frowned. “Someone at the party was marked?” Her hands tightened on the page. “Is anyone missing?”

“Missing?” Leo looked at her in surprise. “No. At least, not that I know of.”

Mamie didn’t release her grip. “You need to assign a guard to watch your mother at all times. And keep an eye on your sister. Baby is too young to protect herself.” She shook her head. “We’ve feared it for years, you know.”

“Feared what?”

“That the battle in the Otherworld would spill over into London again.” She was silent for a moment as her eyes traced the contours of his face. “You’re eighteen. Old enough now to know the truth.” She leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice. “There’s a spy in our midst, Leopold.”

Leo narrowed his eyes at the old woman. “A spy? What kind of spy?”

“Fey.” Mamie’s chin quivered. “We’ve never been able to figure out who it might be, exactly.” She sat back, a worried expression creasing her wrinkled face. “Until now, we thought we had stymied their attempts, but I’m afraid the ring gone missing changes everything. The stakes have been raised.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “There are some fey who will do
anything
to get the ring. Even murder.”

Leo tried not to let his shock show on his face as his thoughts raced in circles, crashing into one another. Murder? “Does Mother know?”

“Of course she knows.”

“How long have you suspected?”

“Many years, my boy. Many, many years.” Mamie put her hand on his arm. “We were close once. Thought we had him.”

“But I’ve never even seen Elizabeth before. How could she be a spy?” Leo sputtered.

“There’s the trouble,” Mamie said. “They can change the way they look, assume a glamour, or simply cross back over to the Otherworld and we have to start all over again.”

“But what do they want?”

“They want England, Leopold.” She whispered the words. “They want to reclaim the world that once belonged only to them.”

Leo swallowed a gasp. “Do you really think the girl who had this mark could be a spy?”

“It’s possible,” Mamie replied. “But there’s a bigger problem now. With the ring unguarded many have crossed over.” She clutched at his sleeve, her grip surprisingly tight. “I’ve seen them, Leo, hiding in the shadows at the palace, lurking among the trees on the grounds. The fey are throughout London. Their numbers are growing and they’re becoming bolder.” Her eyes burned into his. “As long as the ring is missing, they’ll push the boundaries and encroach on our world. Your mother is particularly at risk. You
must
find the ring.”

Leo took a deep breath, trying to quell the sense of panic that tightened his chest. Was she telling him the truth, or had she gone completely mad in her old age? “Mamie…” His voice sounded ragged. “You speak about this as though it were fact. Do you truly believe faeries are real?”

Mamie reached up and caressed his cheek with her old hand, just as she used to do when she would soothe him as a child after his frequent nightmares. “Dear Leo, I don’t
believe
faeries are real. I
know
they are.”

Chapter Twenty

T
HE
day was dark and cold, like an echo of the emotions that warred inside her. Fog had settled in early and trapped the coal smoke that constantly clouded the air above London. It was one of those dreary winter days where night never really seemed to lift and daylight never really arrived. Tiki fought back a cough as she inhaled the gritty air.

Overhead, a round black bristly broom emerged from a small brick flue, followed by a small boy, who scrambled out of a chimney covered head to toe in black soot. Tiki shuddered at the idea of climbing down into that unlit, cramped space. Before, when she’d lived with her parents, before she’d been forced to survive on her own, she’d never considered who tended the chimneys. The idea had never occurred to her that
children
would be forced to clean the innumerable smokestacks that stretched across London’s skyline. She’d heard that some employers even lit straw beneath a cleaner’s feet to make him move faster.

She glanced at the small boy again, a black smudge against the sky. He could be Toots. Or, God forbid, Clara. It made her heart break to think of the thousands who had no one to care for them. It strengthened her resolve to do everything she could for Toots and Clara. And Fiona, for that matter.

Tiki hurried across Whitehall Street toward the Mall, ducking between the clacking wheels of the carriages, trying not to breathe through her nose. The steaming deposits left behind by the horses seemed especially pungent today. She eyed the back of a particularly large carriage going by and wondered for a moment if she dared try to jump in her dress. But the carriage moved past and Tiki missed her opportunity.

She hugged her thin arms tight to her chest, trying to stay warm. She thought again of her argument with Rieker yesterday about retrieving the ring. She didn’t know how he planned to do that now that the royals were back in residence at Buckingham, but she didn’t really care. She had made up her mind she was going to claim the reward first.

Tiki cut toward the entrance to St. James’s Park across the street from Buckingham Palace. She stood in the shadows under the trees and surveyed the crowd.

There.

A scruffy young boy, probably only seven or eight years old, loitered on the sidewalk with his broken broom, waiting for the opportunity to sweep the street. He would be perfect for what she needed. She walked toward him.

“Hey there, boy, come over here,” she called. The boy put his thumb to his chest with a questioning look. At Tiki’s nod, he jogged over. She leaned down to look him in the eyes. “I’ve got a small job for you. Want to make a decent wage for your work today?”

“Yes, miss.” The boy bobbed his head, holding his cap in his hand. He was thin and dirty, just as she was most of the time. Just like so many other children living on the streets of London. But he had a brightness to his eyes and what looked to be quick feet.

Tiki dug into the pocket of her overcoat and pulled out a halfpenny. She held it up. Then she pulled out the folded ransom note. “I’ll give you this coin for taking this note over to the guard there. Tell him it’s for Captain Davis-Smith.” She smiled at him. “But you have to run away before he asks you any questions. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, miss.” The boy smiled, already reaching for the coin.

Tiki pulled another coin from her pocket, this time a copper penny. “And how about if you don’t go anywhere near the guards for a really long time? So they’ll forget what you looked like?”

He nodded with even more enthusiasm.

“Okay, off you go, then.” Tiki handed him the other coin and the ransom note. She stepped back into the shadow of the tree and braced a hand against the rough bark as she watched. The boy tucked his broom under one arm and scurried away. He ran straight up to a guard and tugged at his sleeve. The guard ignored him until the boy waved the paper in front of his face. With a frown, the guard reached for the page. Good as his word, the boy turned and ran. In a blink, he had disappeared into the crowd.

As Tiki watched, the guard unfolded the page and read the words written there. For just a moment he stood frozen, then he disappeared into the guardhouse.

A glimmer of excitement ignited inside her. It was started. Satisfied that her task had been accomplished, Tiki stepped from behind the tree and walked back the way she’d come, her steps quickening as she headed toward the Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Close to two hours later, Tiki hesitated as she entered the hospital. The harsh woman who had admitted Clara sat behind the desk.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” She bobbed her head. “I’m from St. Timothy’s Chapel, here to see the children.” She rushed her words as she pointed down the hallway. “I’ve been here before. Should I just go down?”