Page 23

Unravelling

Something was coming across the field, and coming quickly.

“Is that Sir Oswain?” said Jack, shielding his eyes against the rising sun.

“I hope so,” I murmured, likewise peering against the light.

“Them faerie horses run like the wind,” marvelled Jack.

“Halt!” shouted Sir Oswain. “Stop! Hie! Whoaa !”

The speeding creature slowed, then made an abrupt halt a little way from us, sending Sir Oswain flying over the head of the fae mount.

“Are you hurt?” I called, running to assist him. We did not need another injury in our party.

He lay groaning. “Wretched beast. It hates me. I miss my horse .”

Jack and I each took hold of an arm to help him to his feet. “Lucky you fell where you did,” remarked Jack. “Nice thick patch of grass there.”

I was about to ask if the other two mounts were still in the meadowlands, when, with great relief, I saw the other two creatures cantering toward us. The long meadow grass parted a pathway as though bowing down before their advance.

“The prin—lady Rose had best ride with me,” said Sir Oswain, testing his back with a wince. “Mine is the largest of the mounts. You must share with your brother,” he told Jack. Then, looking around, he frowned. “Where is the lady?”

“Gone,” said Jack. “ Poof .” He mimed her sudden disappearance with his hands.

“Poof?” Sir Oswain turned to me.

“She wished herself home,” I said. “While holding the lamp. She did not know it held a wish.”

His face fell. After a moment of silence, he sighed. “It is for the best,” he said. “She is safe now. The wish could not have been better used.” Another sigh. “Still. I should have liked to say farewell. I may never set eyes on her fair face again.”

“Help me get Jory on the horse,” said Jack, gathering up his and Jory’s bags, which held only empty flagons. I gave Jack a rose from my wreath to help him and Jory with travel sickness. Only one now remained.

Sir Oswain gathered up his coat and cloak, which Rose had used as coverings. He pressed the coat to his face, but his nose wrinkled, so I concluded that it smelled only of a man in need of a wash.

We mounted with some difficulty. I suspected Sir Oswain spoke the truth when he said the creatures despised us. I looked down at my grey-scaled friend sitting on the ground, its long tail curled around its front feet as it watched us. In daylight, its scales appeared more blue than grey.

The faerie mounts showed no fear of the creature, which confirmed my suspicion that it was not a dragon, for all its appearance. I knew that dragons and royal fae did not tolerate each other well.

“I do not think your small wings will keep up with the speed of these faerie steeds,” I told it. I had assumed that once we reached the meadowlands, the creature would fly back to wherever it belonged.

“Are you ready, Miss Lily?” called Sir Oswain. His mount pawed the ground, snorting and tossing its mane.

I looked down again at the creature. It tilted its head toward me, as if waiting for an invitation.

“You are not taking that ugly reptile, are you?” asked Sir Oswain.

“I do not think it ugly,” I said, meeting the carnelian eyes of the creature. “Not anymore.”

“What will the queen say if we bring a dragon to her court?” said Jack.

“It is not a dragon,” I insisted. “Are you coming?” I patted the leather strap of my bag.

The creature flapped its wings and, in an instant, was perched on my shoulder.

“Put your tail behind my head,” I said as a scaly tail blocked my vision. “And don’t dig your claws into me. Is Jory secure?” I called to Jack.

Jack confirmed he was. “Reckon these horses have grown frisky on that purple grass,” he added, as his mount danced sideways.

I agreed. I could feel the pent-up energy in my own mount. Hopefully, it would translate into a swift return to court.

“Tell them to ride as quick as they can,” begged Jack. His brother lolled in front of him, unable to sit up unaided .

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Remember how you felt after the first journey? It will be worse if they go faster.”

“We’ve got to get help for Jory,” said Jack. “Tell them to go as fast as they can.”

I bent to my mount’s head and gave the command—“Take us by the speediest means back to your stables!”

I had not even finished the last syllable before the whole world lurched into a breathtaking blur, and we were off.

It could have been an hour, or it could have been a whole day, the fae horses ran outside all usual boundaries of time. We reached the faerie queen’s stables to be tipped unceremoniously from their backs onto a mound of hay, where we lay groaning.

I opened my eyes to find the stable master looming over us, his expression unfriendly.

“If you would…” I started weakly, then caught myself—I had been about to request a kindness from him. Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning.

I opened my eyes and tried again. “Give us something for the travel sickness,” I said, attempting to make it a command, and not a plea.

He swept a disdainful look over us, but fetched a bottle of cordial, instructing me to take two drops.

I obeyed, relieved as warmth spread through me and my swirling senses began to calm.

Eventually we were all able to stand on shaky legs—except Jory, who had to be supported.

My dragon-like friend lay curled up in the hay like a sleeping cat .

“Take us to a healer,” I ordered the stable master, as Jory’s head lolled to his chest. “Quickly.”

The healing house was surrounded by climbing roses, their vines twining up crystal spirals as tall as towers.

As I passed beneath them, I felt the same quiver of magic as at home in our cottage.

And in that moment I realised the great value of our two rose bushes, and a sudden, aching homesickness gripped me.

The corridors of the healing house were quiet, save for the faint rustling of gowns and the occasional soft chime of unseen bells whose music reverberated through me in a pleasing way.

We were met by a faerie who led us up the spiralling stairs to a chamber where Jory was laid upon a couch of silvery sheets.

“Don’t cry, Miss Lily,” Jack said kindly as we were ushered out. “He’ll be as right as a trivet, you’ll see.”

I could not tell him that I was not weeping for Jory, but for myself. It seemed so selfish. I was not one for tears, and I felt bewildered and ashamed of my own emotions, unsure what was happening to me. But still, the tears would not stop rolling down my cheeks.

“You must go,” I told him, nodding to a healing faerie who had come to tend the wounds on his face. I watched him leave.

Beside me, Sir Oswain patted his pockets. “I am sorry I have no handkerchief about me,” he said apologetically, and sniffed, as though he too needed one.

“I shall find one,” I murmured, and turned round and gave a cry of surprise—“Mother!”

“What have you been up to, Lily?” said Mother, looking me up and down .

“Rose is safe at home!” I blurted out, my tears flowing faster.

“But you are far from home,” said Mother.

I wanted to fling myself into her arms, as though I were a little girl again, but I noticed her left arm was wrapped in a shimmering bandage.

“You are hurt!”

“Just a scratch. Was that Jack going into that chamber?”

“Yes. Jory is next door. Jack has a cheek full of welts from an angry mermaid, and Jory had his leg grazed by a sea monster. How did you get here? You went out into that green fog and never came home—where were you? What happened?”

“So many questions,” said Mother. “But they must wait a little longer.” She turned to Sir Oswain. “And you? Have you escaped unscathed?”

Sir Oswain bowed respectfully. “I am well,” he said, though he looked miserable.

Mother studied him closely. “You both need victuals.”

Sir Oswain agreed that this was very true.

I was still weeping silently. Mother put her good arm around my shoulders.

“I don’t know why I’m such a watering pot,” I sniffed.

“It’s because you are in a healing house.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“A healing house draws all hurts to the surface.”

“I don’t have any hurts. I just need food and sleep.”

“Do you not?”

I looked into Mother’s hazel-brown eyes. They were nothing like my own. Nothing like Rose’s. And I realised what was truly hurting me.

“I don’t want you not to be my mother,” I confessed.

The words blurted from me. “And we are going to lose Rose. She doesn’t belong in a cottage.

She belongs in a palace. And Beran. I don’t know where to look for him.

I fear I will never see him free.” My voice was barely a whisper now. “And me, where do I belong? Who am I?”

“Come,” said Mother, steering me toward the stairs.

“Food and rest, and then you must go before the queen and tell her how you became entangled with mermaids and draigs . Then we shall have a long talk of our own. Come, Sir Oswain,” she called back.

“Food, sleep, and clean handkerchiefs lie this way!”