Authors: Anthea Sharp
Tags: #ya fantasy, #Science Fiction, #faeries, #computer gaming, #ya urban fantasy, #fantasy series, #science and magic, #videogames, #ya romance
The candles flared and the queen’s eyes glowed. “Listen then, and listen well, the answer to this riddle tell, or forfeit of thyself will be, and never more wilt thou be free.”
Jennet shivered. The queen’s voice was ominous, her words intoned with deep meaning. Whatever happened, it was clear that failing to answer the riddle carried a price. Jennet curled her fingers tightly into her palms and tried not to show the fear flickering through her.
“Ask me your riddle,” she said.
“As soon as it begins, it is ending. Without form, still it moves. When it is gone, it yet remains.” The queen smiled, sharp as a blade. “You have three guesses.”
“Ah…” Jennet’s mouth was dry. Her mind beat against the riddle like a bird trapped behind glass. Without taste or form. Something powerful, but insubstantial. “Is it the wind?”
A low sighing went through the branches of the dark trees. The candle nearest her snuffed out, as though some invisible hand had abruptly doused the flame.
The queen shook her head. “One chance gone.”
A circle of watchers had formed around the table. Lithe women with gossamer wings gathered beside the queen. Gnarled brown creatures with sharp teeth and fingers that were too long for their hands swayed next to them. Red-capped goblins and capering sprites - they all watched her with avid, gleaming eyes.
Freaky. This whole battle had turned beyond strange. Jennet pulled in a deep breath, though her chest felt tight, and gave another answer. “Music?”
The second she said the word, she knew it was wrong. She shivered as a second candle flame went out. The watchers surrounding her tittered, and the low breeze rustled the branches.
Jennet squeezed her eyes closed, blocking out the shadowy glade, the fantastical figures, the wicked curve of the Dark Queen’s smile. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and she tasted the metal edge of fear on her tongue. Think. She had to figure this out.
“Your time has run, Fair Jennet. Speak your final answer.”
She opened her eyes, to see that the Dark Queen had risen to her feet. A single candle burned between them.
“I…”
Panic banged through her, like a hundred doors slamming shut. The watching creatures grew still and silent. Even the wind quieted, waiting. She had to answer.
“Is it… a dream?” The words floated from her mouth and hovered there, just beyond her lips.
In the silence that followed, Jennet felt shadows gathering closer. Dread crawled through her, carrying the awful sensation of failure.
The last candle died. A high, wailing music started up, the keening cry of pipes swirling through the air. Slowly, the queen shook her head. Diamonds sparkled like frost in her dark hair.
“No,” she said. “You have lost. Now, mortal girl, I take my due.”
The queen held up a hollow crystal sphere in one hand. With the other, she scribed strange gestures in the air. Her fingers left glowing streaks of silver against the darkness. Then she pointed straight at Jennet.
“Ahh!” A sharp pain speared through Jennet, as though the queen had stabbed her in the chest. She doubled over, gasping, while agony iced her blood. Oh god. It hurt.
“Behold, Fair Jennet,” the queen said. “The answer is Life. Your essence is captured here. It will serve us well.”
Jennet looked up, tears clouding her vision. The queen held the sphere aloft. It wasn’t empty any more. Inside was a bright swirl of color, like rainbow flames. They pulsed and danced, trapped inside their crystal prison. Wavering, calling to her.
“How,” Jennet forced the words out through lips tight with pain, “how do I get that back?”
Every game had a second chance, a third. You kept fighting the last battle until you finally won. Failure wasn’t permanent. Not like in real life.
The queen laughed, and the sound carried a bitter chill. “You cannot. Without a champion, you are lost. Now go. Go! I send thee, defeated, from the Dark Realm.”
Pain wrenched through Jennet and she screamed. Golden light blinded her senses and she swirled through a sickening vertigo. Blackness waited, merciful and dark, on the other side. She opened her arms to it, and fell.
***
Jennet woke, aching, in the sim chair. Her fingers were stiff inside the gaming gloves, and when she sat forward, fire exploded in her shoulder. She could barely lift her arm, but it was impossible to take off the helmet one-handed. Trying not to whimper, she gritted her teeth against the agony and pulled off her gear.
She had lost.
Feyland was more than just a sim game. The clues had been there all along, but she hadn’t paid enough attention until now. Now, when it was too late. And she’d done worse than lose the game.
There was an icy hollow in the middle of her chest. The Dark Queen had taken something from her - something she feared she couldn’t live without. Bright flames trapped inside a magical sphere. Her
mortal essence
, the queen had said.
She had to get it back.
J
ennet leaned her forehead against the tinted window of the grav-car and watched as the unfamiliar neighborhoods went from decent to tattered. So much had changed in the last few weeks. She couldn’t believe she was here, friendless and alone, starting a new school.
And no closer to winning back what the Dark Queen had stolen.
She sighed, and her breath left a mist on the window glass, obscuring the boarded-up windows and graffiti-festooned buildings along Crestview’s main street. From what she’d seen so far, this decaying town in the middle of the country’s flatlands was barely wired. Did the kids here even know what a good sim-system looked like?
Dad had offered to pay for her to stay as a boarding student at Middland Prep, back in their old town, when the company transferred him here. He thought she had a choice, but she didn’t. Not with part of her soul trapped inside a computer game. She couldn’t get it back without going into Feyland, and the only system that could even run the game was Dad’s prototype Full-D. Which no way was he leaving behind. So here she was, too.
The car slid to a stop outside a blocky gray building with
Crestview High
stamped in concrete over the front doors. Students funneled into the school, trampling the thin grass out front.
“Here we are, Miss Carter,” said George, her dad’s chauffeur.
“Great,” she said.
She wanted to make George turn the car around. Wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Or power-up her system and lose herself in an easy game - some fluffy simulated world where the goals were catching butterflies and collecting candies. Something pretty and safe.
But virtual worlds weren’t safe. She’d learned that the hard way.
She still had nightmares about that final battle. Sometimes, in the deepest hours, she woke in a cold sweat with the Dark Queen’s laughter cutting through her. A computer game shouldn’t be able to affect the real world. But it did. Jennet pressed her lips together so hard she could feel the edges of her teeth.
“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Carter.” George swiveled in the front seat to look at her. “I would like to be able to inform your father you weren’t late for your first day.”
Her stomach clenched, as though she’d eaten rocks for breakfast instead of toast. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open. Staying in the back seat wasn’t going to solve her problems. She
had
to find a gamer here - someone who was even more skilled than herself. Someone adept at wielding a virtual sword. Someone who could help her win free of Feyland. Permanently.
Without a champion, you are lost
. The Dark Queen’s words echoed in her mind.
“Miss Carter?” The car door slid open.
“All right, I’m going.”
Forcing her fingers to unclench, Jennet grabbed her satchel and stepped out. Late fall air lay clammy on her skin, and a wave of dizziness made her cling to the door.
Breathe. Don’t let George see her weakness. She caught her balance and moved onto the sidewalk. The grav-car skimmed silently away, and she turned to face the school.
A metallic beeping from the building made the few stragglers scramble for the doors. She swallowed back the dry fear lodged in her throat, and followed.
Inside, it smelled like schools always smelled - a mix of cleaning products, sour lunch, and faintly, old-fashioned books. A security checkpoint loomed just inside the front doors. Her steps slowed. This was nothing like Middland Prep. Were the students here really that dangerous? Nervousness squeezed her lungs as the big guard waved her through the scanners.
No alarms went off, and she began breathing again. When she asked where the office was, the guard pointed to the first door down the hall.
The secretary, a thin, dark-haired man, peered at her through his glasses. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a new sophomore. Jennet Carter.”
“One of the VirtuMax kids?” He said the company name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Right. Um, my dad has been in contact with the school?”
The secretary poked the screen in front of him. “Ah yes, Carter. I’m transferring some additional forms over. Make sure you fill them out in full. The school will issue you a tablet so you can access your account.”
He pulled a battered tablet out of a drawer and set it in front of her. It was an old Epox, outdated beyond belief. Her hopes slipped another notch. This place was a technological wasteland. How was she going to find someone here who could help her?
The secretary pushed a piece of paper toward her. “If you’ll sign here—”
“I have my own.” She pulled out her brand-new tablet and watched the secretary’s eyebrows lift as if pulled up by strings. She scrolled through the menu until she found the red and blue
Crestview High
icon, and then tilted the screen toward him. “This it?”
“Yes. And you’ll want to be careful with that tablet. Make sure you don’t leave it unattended. The school takes no responsibility for lost or missing items.” He dropped the battered Epox back into the drawer, then glanced at his own screen, his eyebrows settling. “You have twenty-four seconds to get to class. Early World History with Ms. Lewis. End of the building, room 114. No running.”
Great. Like she needed to be late on her first day. She slung her satchel over her shoulder and pushed herself to move faster down the hall. A boy wearing a blue jacket dashed past, and a brown-haired girl disappeared into a nearby room. Other than that, the halls were deserted.
There - room 114. Worry skittered up her spine as she pulled the door open.
The plump, red-haired teacher standing by the desk glanced up as she entered. “Miss Carter?”
Jennet nodded, her skin prickling as she felt the attention in the room shift. All the kids were looking at her. Sizing her up: her hair, her clothes, the way she stood. Her heart thumped against her ribs, but she forced her breathing to stay slow. She lifted one hand to smooth her hair back and heard a murmur as they caught sight of her wrist implant.
A quick scan of the room confirmed there were only two other kids with wrist-chips. They met her gaze with serious relief. The rest either turned their heads away or narrowed their eyes, giving her you-don’t-belong-here-we-hate-you looks.
“Your desk is at the end of the row.” The teacher pointed. “Welcome to Crestview.”
Welcome. Sure. Jennet slid into her seat just as the second bell blared through the room.
“Class,” Ms. Lewis said, “please access file 73 in your history doc.”
Jennet pulled out her tablet and tried to ignore the whispers that followed. Maybe she should have taken the old Epox - but she shouldn’t have to be embarrassed that her gear was cutting-edge.
She straightened her shoulders and scanned the room. The two VirtuMax kids smiled at her. One was a girl with dark hair, the other, a mousy-looking boy. Like herself, they held shiny, newer-model tablets. The rest of the class though…. Despair crawled through her.
Almost none of the Crestview students had their own tablets. The clunky school-issued Epoxes were the standard. How could any of these kids be ‘leet players if they didn’t even have the most basic tech? This was like being transported back to the Middle Ages.
Still, she
had
to consider the possibilities. For all she knew, that brown-haired boy in the back row was a flawless gamer. She thought he was watching her, his green eyes hostile behind the swag of hair in front of his face.
If not him, what about the blond guy sitting two seats over? Seeing her looking, he winked and blew her a kiss.
On second thought, no. Neither of them could be the sim hero she needed.
Half of her wanted to put her head down on the desk and cry. The other half smoldered, ready to jump up and start yelling curses at the universe. Instead, she stared at the schedule glowing on her screen. Six classes. Six chances to find someone to help her.
If she didn’t get to the Dark Queen soon, she was dead.