The Solstice Cup (6 page)

“Be polite?” said Mackenzie. “Be polite? You just stole a cloak from them! Who knows what they'll do to us when they find out!”

Breanne took the cloak and stuffed it under the nearest pillow. “There, no one will ever know. Now chill, before you hyperventilate.”

The sound of a collision just outside the room prevented Mackenzie from responding.

“Clumsy slattern!” a man cursed as Mackenzie peered anxiously around the open doorway. “Big-footed wench!”

A redheaded girl, dressed in gray like the girls who had attended Mackenzie, was crouched on the ground beside a young bearded man in a velvet cape. The caped man was kneeling over a set of primitive-looking bagpipes.

“You've broken the chanter,” he said angrily. “What do you say to that?”

The trembling girl said nothing.

“Damn it—a piece is missing. I'll tell you what,” the man said. “If I can't play tonight, it will be you that answers for it! Now where is that blessed thing?”

Mackenzie teetered off balance as her sister pushed past. Breanne scanned the scene quickly and then bent down over a shallow crevice in the floor. When she stood up again, she was holding a hollow piece of wood in her fingers. “Is this what you're looking for?”

The young man's head swiveled in Breanne's direction. “That's it,” he said curtly, reaching up for the piece of wood.

Breanne pulled her hand away. “Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners? You owe her an apology.”

The caped man looked as startled by Breanne's words as Mackenzie felt. “What?”

“You were a jerk to her,” said Breanne, nodding to the girl still crouched on the floor. “If you want this back, tell her you're sorry.”

The man shook his head. The surprise on his face melted into sour amusement. “If that's the price to make my pipes whole again, I suppose I have no choice.”

He rose to his feet. When he was standing, Mackenzie saw that one of the man's shoulders was significantly higher than the other, and there was a small hump on his back that had been obscured by the folds of his cloak. He didn't look the least bit repentant, but he made an elaborate flourish with his free arm and bowed toward the cowering servant. “If my temper has given any offense, I do hereby apologize. Is that satisfactory?” he asked, turning back to Breanne.

“It'll do,” said Breanne. She seemed less confident now that she'd noticed the man's deformity. She handed him the piece of wood without meeting his eyes.

“Thank you,” the caped man said with another bow.

Mackenzie waited until the man's attention was back on his damaged instrument before grabbing her sister by the arm. “I can't believe you just did that!” she hissed as she tried to haul Breanne back through the doorway. “‘Be polite,' you said. You can't talk to people like that here!”

“At least one of you has some sense,” the man muttered as he continued to inspect his pipes. “She'd be one unhappy lassie now if I'd been one of the fair folk.”

“I knew he wasn't a faery,” Breanne said to Mackenzie, her cockiness returning. She threw off her sister's hand. “He doesn't have weird eyes or see-through skin like the rest of them. He's human, like us.”

“That I am,” said the man. He pointed his chin at the retreating back of the hooded serving girl. “So is she, for that matter. You want to take care that you don't end up like her.”

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asked anxiously.

The bearded man tucked his pipes under his arm and surveyed the sisters. “I suppose the end of my chanter is worth a bit of counsel. Fine. Here it is: Beware the solstice cup.”

“The ‘solstice cup'?” said Breanne. “What's that?”

But the piper had already turned his back on them. He moved away in the direction the servant had taken and didn't turn when Breanne called after him.

“Shh,” said Mackenzie. “Listen—I hear bells. Nuala must be coming back.”

“All right, already,” Breanne said angrily as Mackenzie tugged her out of the corridor. “You don't have to pull my arm off.”

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

T
he silver-eyed faery entered the room with two attendants behind her. Her shimmering cloak was gone. In its place she wore a long dress that seemed to consist entirely of white rose petals. Tiny glowing stones dangled from the brown curls piled up on her head. She halted at the sight of Breanne lounging at the end of the canopied bed beside Mackenzie.

“My sister, Breanne,” Mackenzie said nervously, nudging Breanne to stand up.

“Your sister!” the faery repeated, bringing her hands together in satisfaction. “Hasn't anyone else claimed you yet? Then tell me your full name and I'll be your protector,” she said when Breanne shook her head.

Breanne surprised Mackenzie by making a small curtsy. “Breanne Caitlin Howell.”

Nuala's eyes shone as they went back and forth between the two girls. “You're not just sisters, you're twins! Come closer.” She beckoned to Breanne. “Let me see you in the light.”

“Is there something wrong with your leg?” the faery asked as Breanne stepped under the nearest candle chandelier.

Breanne's cheeks reddened slightly. “It's nothing. I twisted my ankle, and it hasn't healed yet.”

“Hmm. A pity.” Nuala looked Breanne up and down and then beckoned to her attendants. “Twins— it's almost too good to be true. I definitely want them to match for the banquet tonight. You'll have to work quickly to get this one ready in time.”

Mackenzie expected her sister to protest as the nearest hooded girl approached to help her remove her coarse tunic. But for once, Breanne was as meek as a lamb.

Mackenzie and Breanne had to hurry to keep up with Nuala as she led them away from their chamber a short while later. The two hooded attendants followed behind the sisters.

Breanne ran her hands over her dress and shook her head. “This is a ridiculous outfit,” she mouthed behind the faery's back. “They have no fashion sense.”

Nuala turned a corner ahead of them while Mackenzie was frowning and holding her finger to her lips. Two turns later, they were in a wide hallway crowded with elaborately dressed faeries, all traveling in the same direction.

“They sound like a bunch of crickets,” Breanne muttered to Mackenzie under cover of the din.

“Honestly, Breanne!” Mackenzie hissed through gritted teeth. “You're going to get us in trouble!”

Nuala slowed to let the sisters catch up. “Stay close,” she told them. “I don't want you to get swept away.”

It was hard to be sure with so many bodies pressing in around them, but it seemed to Mackenzie that they had started to climb toward the surface. Her guess was confirmed when they passed through an ornately carved doorway the height of a two-story house and found themselves in a courtyard above ground. Tiny orbs of light floated above their heads. Beneath the lights, the banquet guests were taking their places at long tables set with jeweled cups and crystal dishes. Servants in gray hoods scurried between the tables, carrying large pitchers and platters of food.

“Quickly,” Nuala said, taking Mackenzie and Breanne by the sleeves. “Our seats are waiting. I don't want to miss the first course.”

Nuala led the sisters to a table across the courtyard. Most of the seats were already occupied. Mackenzie couldn't help staring at a faery wearing a small birdcage on a chain around her neck, with a tiny live bird inside. The faery sitting beside her had fluttering butterflies all over her hair, while one of the male faeries had a subdued fox reclining over his shoulder.

A servant waiting on the other side of the table curtsied and pulled out a throne-like chair for Nuala. She pulled out two slightly simpler ones near the end of the table for Mackenzie and Breanne.

“Aren't my guests beautiful,” Nuala said proudly to the others at the table before taking her seat. She had the sisters each turn around so they could be admired.

“I'm having trouble breathing,” Mackenzie whispered after Nuala had abandoned them to have a conversation in her own language. “They're
still
staring at us. It's creepy!”

“Relax,” said Breanne. “I'm sure they'll lose interest in us once the food comes. Hey, look—another girl dressed like an underage bride.”

Four tables away, there was a girl dressed in the same type of gauzy white gown that Mackenzie and Breanne were wearing.

“She looks human,” said Breanne. “And there's another one. And a guy in a white tunic over there.”

“Nuala said there would be other guests like us,” said Mackenzie. “I wonder if they got here the same way we did.”

“Let's go ask,” Breanne said, pushing her chair out.

Mackenzie grabbed her sister's arm. “Breanne—you can't just take off. Nuala specifically told us to stay with her!” She glanced anxiously at the silver-eyed faery, who was still turned away from them, engaged in conversation with a creature who had curled ram's horns growing out of his temples.

“You're such a baby.” Breanne shrugged her arm free. “All right, I'll wait. The food's here anyway.”

Mackenzie clenched her hands in her lap and tried not to look at the puddings, jellies and tiny pastries that were being set down on the table.

“This is going to be good.” Breanne picked up a serving spoon and began filling her plate with food.

“You're not going to eat that, are you?” Mackenzie whispered in dismay.

“Why not?”

“Because you can't eat faery food! Weren't you paying any attention? Just wait, and you can have some of the stuff I brought from Maigret's shack.”

Breanne rolled her eyes. “I'm not eating any of that crap.” She raised a spoonful of soup to her mouth and swallowed. “Mmm, delicious. And oh, look! I'm still breathing.”

Mackenzie stared straight in front of her, too frustrated to speak.

“I don't know what your problem is,” Breanne said.

“Look, all the other human guests are eating too. No one's keeled over yet.”

“Why don't you ever listen to me?” said Mackenzie. “Why do you always have to ignore everything I say?”

“Because you're a paranoid Goody Two-shoes.”

Mackenzie dug her nails into her palms. “Fine. Just wait until you wake up tomorrow and you're paralyzed—or a lizard or something.”

Mackenzie still hadn't tasted any of the faery food by the time dessert was brought out.

“You have no idea what you're missing,” Breanne said, her mouth full of pastry. “This is
so
good. Come on, try a bite.” She lifted her fork toward Mackenzie's mouth. “You know you want to.”

Mackenzie turned her head away quickly. “Stop it!”

Breanne giggled as the piece of pastry fell into Mackenzie's lap. She reloaded her fork and tried again. “C'mon, just a little nibble, a teeny-weeny nibbly.”

“You're acting like you're drunk!” Mackenzie hissed.

“I'm not drunk,” Breanne said indignantly. “I'm just having a good time. You should try it. Hey, look. There's that hunchbacked piper guy.”

The bearded man they'd met outside their chamber had just appeared in the center of the courtyard with his pipes nestled under one arm. “Oh goody—he's going to play for us,” Breanne said. “Guess his chanter-thingy is fixed.”

Mackenzie tried to tune her sister out as she focused on the piper. He settled himself on a stool and brought the chanter to his mouth. At the sound of the first notes, the noise level around the courtyard dropped dramatically. A few servants moved between the tables, removing dishes and refilling cups, while the piper adjusted the instrument under his arm. They slipped away as soon as he was ready to play, and the hall fell completely silent.

The music began quietly, each note an autumn leaf drifting to earth. Mackenzie forgot about her anger at Breanne as she listened. The piper was telling a story with his instrument: of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, of a red sun sinking in the west. As the music got louder, Mackenzie tasted rain on her tongue and felt the wind whip her face.