The Solstice Cup (7 page)

The notes came harder, faster. Seasons collided; the moon waxed and waned. Mackenzie was a ship tossed on an angry ocean. She was a seed buried deep beneath the ground. She was a snowflake. She was a sheet of ice. She was a dying star in an empty sky.

Time stopped; the courtyard disappeared. And still the piper played on.

Mackenzie had no idea where she was when the last note finally died away. It was as if she'd woken up in some strange underwater world. She blinked, and the figure approaching her slowly came into focus. It was Nuala, her silver eyes gleaming as she held up a two-handled cup. The liquid inside was luminescent.

“Drink,” the faery whispered.

Mackenzie took the cup with both hands. It was cold to the touch. She stared, mesmerized, at the glowing white liquid.

“Drink,” the faery repeated, her voice a soft purr.

Mackenzie lifted the cup to her mouth.

A loud crash startled her out of her dazed state before the liquid reached her lips. The floating lights that had illuminated the courtyard earlier were gone, but torches still burned on several nearby pillars. Mackenzie was able to make out the misshapen back of the piper crouched near an overturned stool several yards away.

“Drink,” Nuala repeated. There was a hint of impatience in her voice this time.

Mackenzie looked at the faery and then at the cup in her hands. “Please—I'm sorry—I can't,” she whispered, afraid to lift her eyes. She trembled as the cup was taken from her.

Nuala had moved when Mackenzie looked up again. She stood in front of Mackenzie's sister, holding the cup out for Breanne to take. Breanne's eyes were open, but her expression was vacant.

Mackenzie held her breath as her sister accepted the cup. “Don't,” Mackenzie begged silently, shaking her head.

Breanne's eyes remained unfocused as she lifted the cup. Halfway up she stopped, as if she'd forgotten what she was doing. The cup in her hands didn't move; Nuala raised her own hands to guide it toward Breanne's mouth.

“Breanne, no!” Mackenzie whispered. With no time to think, Mackenzie lunged for the cup. She stumbled, and the cup flew from Breanne's hand and clattered to the ground a few yards away. The liquid poured out in a faint glowing trail across the stone floor.

“What's going on?” Breanne said groggily, as Nuala made an angry hissing noise.

Mackenzie barely heard her sister. Her attention was fixed on Nuala's face.

Nuala returned Mackenzie's gaze with eyes that had turned a steely gray. Without looking away, she pointed to the cup and said something in her own language. At the edge of her vision, Mackenzie saw a servant step forward to retrieve it.

“You must be very tired now,” Nuala said in a voice without emotion. “My attendants will see you back to your chamber. Sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning.”

C
HAPTER
S
IX

M
ackenzie's heart accelerated when she woke up in the canopy bed and remembered where she was. “Breanne,” she whispered. Her sister continued to snore. “Breanne,” Mackenzie said a little louder, rising on one elbow to shake her sister's shoulder.

“What?” Breanne mumbled. “Ouch—stop it!”

“Are you all right? Breanne, talk to me!”

Breanne turned her head and half opened one eye. “Is room service here yet?”

“How can you be so calm?” Mackenzie asked, her voice rising. “This isn't a hotel! We're trapped here! And we almost drank from that cup last night!”

“You're getting hysterical again,” Breanne said. “What cup?”

Mackenzie struggled to get her voice under control. “The cup the guy with the pipes warned us about. The solstice cup!”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember any cup last night.” Breanne rolled over. “Is that your stomach? For Pete's sake, Mackenzie, find something to eat!”

The bundle that held Mackenzie's smuggled food was still in the corner where she'd left it. She tried not to think of the previous night's feast as she took out the two remaining fish and the last crust of bread. The food was gone in a few bites, but not her hunger. Mackenzie's stomach was still growling when one of the gray-hooded attendants appeared in the doorway with a covered tray.

“Mmm, now
that
smells good,” Breanne said as she sat up in bed. “Bring that tray right over here.”

The servant set the tray down on a table beside the bed and backed out of the room without speaking.

“Now this is what I call breakfast,” Breanne said enthusiastically.

Mackenzie frowned as she watched her sister dig into a bowl of berries and cream.

“Oh, get over it,” Breanne said, looking back at her sister. “I ate like a pig last night, and I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with the food.”

“You were acting like you were drunk at the banquet.”

Breanne shrugged. “So I had a little too much of the fruit punch.”

Mackenzie clenched and unclenched her hands. Her stomach rumbled as the berries disappeared.

“Mmm. This is even better than what I had last night,” Breanne said as she bit into a large pastry.

“All right,” Mackenzie said irritably. She stomped across the room and lunged for the remaining pastry. “You don't have to eat it all.”

The food was good. In fact it was better than any other meal Mackenzie could remember eating. The pastry was gone in a few melt-in-your-mouth bites. So were the potato cakes and the tiny fried sausages.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked suddenly, her mouth full of berry pudding.

Breanne had retrieved the iridescent cloak she'd stuffed under her pillow the day before. “I'm going exploring,” she said as she fastened the clasp at her neck. “I want to find the people dressed like us at the banquet last night. The other humans.”

Mackenzie dropped her bowl back on the tray. “Wait, Breanne—you can't just take off.”

“Why not? The door's open.”

“But we need to ask permission!”

“Why?” Breanne looked genuinely surprised.

Mackenzie edged around her sister to block the door. “Please, Breanne. If you'd seen Nuala's eyes when I knocked that cup out of your hands—you've got to stay until she comes!”

Breanne pushed her sister aside. “You stay here and be the good girl. I'm going for a walk.”

“But what do I tell her?” Mackenzie asked as her sister disappeared through the doorway. “Bree! Breanne!”

Mackenzie tried to come up with an excuse for her sister's absence while she waited for Nuala, but as she grew more anxious it became harder to think clearly. Her whole body was as tight as a violin string by the time the faery finally appeared in the doorway with two of her attendants behind her.

“What's wrong?” The faery looked around the room. “Where's your sister?”

Mackenzie shook her head. Her voice was strained. “She went out for a walk. I told her we should wait for you…”

Nuala's expression darkened. She said something in her own language, and one of the hooded girls curtsied and backed out of the room. “Didn't I warn you to stay close?” she said in an irritated voice to Mackenzie. “I can't protect the two of you if you're off wandering the corridors by yourselves.”

“But I didn't—I tried—”

“Oh well. There's nothing to be done about it at this point,” the faery sighed. She waved her hand as if she was already bored with the subject. “I'm sure we'll find your sister before a Pooka gets her. Now—look at the pretty gowns I brought!”

The remaining attendant was already advancing with one of the white dresses. It was similar to the one Mackenzie had worn the night before, but with tiny pearls sewn all over it and a more voluminous skirt. “Isn't it exquisite?” said Nuala. “Quickly, put it on and then we'll do your hair.”

The faery's servant positioned a cushioned chair in front of a mirror in a corner of the room and placed a small velvet chest full of jeweled hairpins and combs on a table beside the mirror. Mackenzie took her seat as soon as she was dressed. She watched her reflection self-consciously as the faery came up behind her with a brush in her hand.

“Your hair is your best feature,” Nuala said as she began brushing. “It's like spun gold.”

Mackenzie blushed. “I hate it. It's too thick. It never does what I want it to do.”

“How can you hate it? It's luxurious, like silk.” The faery wound a lock of Mackenzie's hair around her fingers and pinned it to the back of Mackenzie's head. “You're very pretty for a human girl. Your sister too, of course. It's too bad she's a cripple.”

Mackenzie flinched at the cruel word. “Breanne's not crippled. She just limps a little bit.”

The faery's silver eyes seemed to flicker as she stared at Mackenzie in the mirror. She pinned a second curl beside the first one. “I get the feeling you defend your sister a lot. Is she as loyal to you?”

“Breanne—has a chip on her shoulder sometimes,” Mackenzie said with a nervous shrug. “She's still my sister.”

“Where were you?” Mackenzie mouthed as she and Breanne trailed behind Nuala several hours later.

Breanne shook her head, her lips compressed in a thin line. She'd been silent since being escorted back to the guest chamber. The stolen faery cloak had been taken from her. In its place she wore a white dress similar to the one Mackenzie was wearing. There'd been just enough time for one of the attendants to braid Breanne's hair and pin it up before Nuala returned from her own preparations to lead both sisters to the banquet.

“Are you okay?” Mackenzie whispered. “You look terrible. Your leg—it's dragging more than usual.”

“And you look like you're wearing a wedding cake on your head,” Breanne snapped.

Mackenzie lifted her hand to her hair. “I think the crystals look pretty.”

“Whatever,” said Breanne.

They turned one corner and then another until they reached the crowded hallway that led to the courtyard above ground. Without warning, Breanne grabbed Mackenzie's arm and yanked her backward.

“Hey—what are you doing?” said Mackenzie.

“Quickly,” Breanne hissed in her ear. “Come on!”

The back of Nuala's head disappeared in the throng as Breanne dragged Mackenzie in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” Mackenzie repeated as Breanne pulled her into a dark alcove.

Breanne was breathing heavily. “We've got to find our way out of here. This is our chance!”

“What are you talking about?” Mackenzie said as she pulled her arm free. “I thought you liked it here.”

“I don't like being trapped,” Breanne said, peering around the edge of the alcove. “I spent hours walking in circles. I wanted to find the people we saw last night, but I couldn't get anywhere, no matter which way I went. Every time I turned a corner, I came to a dead end. There was no way out.”