Faery Rebels (23 page)

If Paul was glad to see Knife again, he did not show it. “I just want you to know,” he said as he wheeled across the lawn to meet her, “that if I lose my mind, it won’t be because you left me; it’ll be because you kept leaving and then
coming back again
. Although sending that other faery to fetch me was an interesting twist—” His gaze fell to Amaryllis, waiting imperiously at the end of the path. “Is that who I think it is?”

It seemed Thorn hadn’t told him what was happening, only that he needed to come out to the garden at once. No wonder he didn’t look happy; he had no idea what to expect from this meeting, any more than Amaryllis did.

“Yes,” Knife told him, then raised her voice and addressed the Queen: “Your Majesty, we both know the dangers that our people face, and the need for a strong Hunter to protect them. I also understand how important it could be for us to find other faeries if we want our magic back—but I believe that preventing the Silence from killing our people is even more important. Don’t you agree?”

“Agreed,” said Amaryllis, but she folded her arms as she spoke. “Go on.”

“But Paul and I also need each other,” Knife continued, “and the Oakenfolk need help that only the humans can give. You saw Campion just now: Valerian said I cured her, but it wasn’t really me. It was Heather’s story that brought her back, because it told her things she’d never heard before—new ideas, new knowledge. But those diaries won’t necessarily help everyone, and even if they did they might not be enough. We have to find more new ideas, of all kinds, to keep the rest of us from sinking into despair as Campion did.”

“So what you need,” said Paul, his eyes lighting as he began to catch on, “is a go-between—someone with a connection to both worlds, who can take the knowledge my people have and bring it to yours.”

“Yes,” said Knife, “but even more than that. Someone who can also protect the Oak from harm, and our people from predators, and make the Oakenwyld safe again. As a faery I’ve done my best, but now I know that I could do it even better…as a human.”

Amaryllis’s lips parted, incredulous. “A
human
Queen’s Hunter?”

“Why not?” demanded Paul. “Knife’s right—we humans can kill crows, or frighten them away, far more easily than you can. And she wouldn’t have to stop hunting food for you, either; she could snare rabbits, gather plants, even bring you things from the House. And I can help your people, too. If there’s anything you want or need—metal,
cloth, paper—I’ll get it for you. I’ll even give tours of the House when my parents are out and serve you all tea and biscuits, if that’s what you want.” His mouth twitched. “But I won’t tell anyone else about you, or do anything to threaten your safety. I’ll swear that in blood if you like.”

The Queen was silent, her head bent. Then she said, “I must speak with Knife about this. Alone.”

“What is it?” asked Knife, following Amaryllis to the foot of the Oak. She glanced back over her shoulder to where Paul sat in the middle of the lawn, tense and waiting. “Don’t tell me you plan to refuse?”

“I do not,” said Amaryllis shortly, turning to face her. “But I cannot accept this offer unless I am satisfied that you, and he, are fully aware of what you are asking. I would not have it said that I made you a false bargain.”

“I know what I’m doing,” said Knife, impatient. “We both do. We’re wasting time—”

“Then do me the courtesy of not interrupting when I speak!” Amaryllis snapped back. Knife reddened, and the Queen went on: “If I make you human, Knife, it will be no easy task. It will require of me all the magic I took from Jasmine, and some of my own as well—power that I can ill afford to spare. If you should regret your decision, I will not be able to help you. You will be trapped as a human forever. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Knife.

“You will give up your wings, your ageless body, your magical heritage. The Oak will be closed to you, and you will have no one in all the world but Paul, no home that he does not give you. If there is any magical power to the bond between you, it will dissolve, leaving you no guarantee that he will not tire of you and cast you away. Yet as long as the Oakenfolk have need of you, you cannot leave this place, but must live here always.” She laid a hand on Knife’s arm. “Do not think of this choice as an escape, Knife. If you believe that becoming human will give you more freedom than the Oak can offer, I fear you will be disappointed.”

“I used to think I knew what freedom was,” said Knife. “To do whatever I pleased, go wherever I chose, and not have to depend on anyone. But now…” She lifted her head, resolute. “I know this won’t be easy. But I still want to do it.”

“I see,” said Amaryllis, and took her hand away. “So for yourself, this is what you would choose. But what of Paul? If you become human, your power to inspire him will weaken, if not vanish entirely; he may never achieve his full potential as an artist. And though he cares for you now, there are countless young women in the world; would he still want you if he knew he could claim a far more valuable prize?”

“I don’t—” began Knife, but the Queen cut her off.

“Think, Knife. Have you not realized that if I restored your wings, you might still serve both Paul and the Oak as
a faery, while the same power that would have made you human could be used for another purpose?”

Knife felt as though a fist had driven into her stomach. “You mean you could—”

“I could, and will if you choose it. He is a worthy human, and such a debt would bind him to the Oak even more surely than his loyalty to you. Why should I not give him what he himself once told you was his dearest wish?”

“Then—” She closed her eyes, and spoke quickly before she could change her mind. “Yes.”

“You want me to heal him?”

“Yes.”

“Remember, Knife, that the other terms of the bargain still stand. Not only must you continue as my Hunter, but you must also see Paul, and speak with him, on my behalf—even though your feelings for him can never again be expressed, or returned. You will remain a faery, and he a human, forever. Are you willing to endure this, for his sake?”

Knife nodded, too full of grief to speak.

“Very well,” said the Queen with satisfaction. “You have chosen wisely, Knife. Now remain here, while I speak to the human.”

Knife sat at the foot of the Oak, chin resting on pulled-up knees. Though Paul and Amaryllis were too far away for
her to make out their words, she could still hear the Queen’s treble rising above Paul’s husky baritone; they appeared to be talking on top of each other, and at this rate the sun would come up before either of them finished a sentence. But then Paul broke off and cast a stricken glance at her.

She’s told him.
The knowledge was as certain as it was bittersweet.
He knows he has the chance to walk again—and that I want him to take it.
She met Paul’s gaze, hoping that despite the darkness and the distance between them, he might find reassurance in her face. But his expression remained bleak, and when at last he spoke, his voice was so quiet she could not hear it at all.

Knife felt bruised inside, her heart crushed between hope and misery. She buried her head in her arms, shutting out the world, until she felt the Queen’s hand upon her shoulder.

“I could wish the moon were more full,” said Amaryllis, sounding weary. “Nevertheless, I will do what I can. Go and stand beside your human.”

Mechanically Knife rose and walked across the grass to stand by the wheel of Paul’s chair. It would be worth it, she told herself. It would be worth everything to see him rise to his feet and walk again. The Queen had been right: As a human, she had little to offer Paul. But by remaining a faery for his sake, she would give him a gift he would treasure for the rest of his life.

“Perianth,” whispered Paul. The sound of her true name nearly broke Knife, and she pressed the back of her hand hard against her lips as he went on: “What did she say to you?”

Knife shook her head, wishing he would not speak. It was too late for words now; already Amaryllis had stepped from the Oak’s shadow and opened her arms to the moonlight, the glow of gathering magic swirling about her body.

“What did she say?” Paul demanded. He reached out to her, and in desperation Knife scrambled away, slipped, and fell sprawling on the grass. There was a blinding flash, and a ripple of power passed over her; she heard Paul cry out as though it was hurting him, and she thought dizzily,
It’s working.

Though every muscle groaned and her limbs felt as though they were encased in clay, she managed to push herself back up to her feet. She staggered forward a few steps, swaying like a sapling in the wind. Then her legs buckled, and the darkness swooped down and carried her away.

As she swam back into consciousness, the first thing she heard was Wink’s hushed, anxious voice: “Is she dead?”

“No,” replied Valerian, “she has only fainted, and already she is recovering. Look.”

“I can’t see worth a squashed berry,” grumbled Thorn. “That flash was so bright, I thought she’d blown herself up
and taken the pair of them with her.”

Knife stirred, wincing at the pounding in her skull. Despite that and a host of other aches, her back felt warm, and a light blanket had been thrown over her. She supposed Wink had done that: It would be like her. She curled her fingers around the soft fabric and opened her eyes.

As she had expected, Wink, Valerian, and Thorn stood nearby, with Linden still nestled against Wink’s shoulder. But they were gathered around Amaryllis’s prone body, not hers—and all of them were
tiny.

Slowly Knife tilted her head back to see Paul gazing down at her in wonder. She could feel the quickness of his breathing against her spine, see his wheelchair lying on its side only a couple of crow-lengths away; he must have heaved himself out of the chair when she fell, and flung his own blanket around her. Then, as her numbed senses began to awaken, she realized why he had done so: She was quite naked.

That meant the change was real, not a glamour. That meant it was permanent. “How?” she demanded. “How could this happen?”

“Well, I don’t want to leap to any conclusions,” said Paul gravely, leaning on his elbow, “but I think magic may have been involved.”

Knife gave a shaky laugh. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, you mean how did they get down here?” He
nodded toward the faeries gathered around the Queen. “I’m not quite sure myself. I’d just got the blanket around you, and when I looked up, there they were. All I know is that the dark-haired one said she’d stab my eye out if I didn’t take good care of you, and she looked so fierce that I’ve been on my best behavior ever since.” He gave a rueful grin. “After all, I’m not likely to outrun her.”

He spoke lightly, but Knife jolted upright, staring at him. Though his eyes smiled, his face was lined with strain, and he was using both hands for balance—

“Oh,” she whispered as her gaze traveled down his body. “Oh, no.”

“What’s the matter?” said Paul. “I didn’t break one, did I?” He pushed himself into a sitting position and reached down to straighten the legs lying slack upon the grass.

“No!” Knife clutched the blanket about her throat, sick with grief and guilt. “You don’t understand, Paul. This isn’t what I asked for.”

“Perhaps not,” said Queen Amaryllis feebly as Valerian helped her to her feet. “But as I have been so recently reminded, it is wrong to use magic on others against their will. I had your consent to become human. But he refused to let me make him whole.”

“But…” Knife turned to Paul in distress. “You could have had your legs back. Why?”

Paul reached out to touch her face. “Listen,” he said. “There’s a chance that one day the doctors will find a way
to help me walk again.” He slid his hand behind her neck, drawing her toward him. “But where else will I find a faery who loves me enough to give me her name?”

“Not here, that’s for certain,” came an irritable voice from below. “And if you two start chewing on each other’s faces,
someone’s
going to get their eye poked out.”

Paul let go of Knife abruptly as Thorn glared up at them. “I suppose you think being a human is all very wonderful,” she said to Knife, “but this is a fine mess of hedgehog droppings if ever I saw one. Who’s going to drive off the crows now? And I suppose you expect me to do all your hunting, too?”

“Peace, Thorn,” said Amaryllis, leaning heavily on Valerian’s shoulder. “Those matters have already been addressed—and not even you will have reason to complain of the result.” She looked up at Knife. “You have been severely tested this night,” she said. “And I would not blame you if you hated me for it. Yet I could not have let you go with this young man were I not certain that you both understood not only love, but self-sacrifice.”

“We’re not the only ones,” said Knife. “You made a sacrifice, too. I can’t help you find the other faeries, not anymore—even if I could afford to leave the Oak unguarded that long, they’d never talk to a human. So what will you do?”

“Hope,” said Amaryllis. “Now that I have others to help me in my studies, perhaps they will make discoveries and
see possibilities that I did not. Campion at least will be glad to assist me, I am sure…and perhaps in time, another will arise among us with the will and courage to make the journey.” Her eyes flickered to the sleeping Linden as she spoke. “We have that time, now.”

Knife nodded. Then, clutching the blanket about her shoulders, she leaned close to the Queen and whispered, “I forgive you.”

“My Hunter,” said Amaryllis just as softly, and her gaze touched Knife’s like a salute before she turned away. Valerian paused to give Knife a respectful nod, then hurried to help the Queen back to the Oak.

“Hmph,” Thorn said with a last wary glance at Paul, and moved to follow—but Knife held up her hand. “Wait,” she said, and the faery stopped, wings tensed for flight. “Come closer. Please. And Wink—you too.”

With obvious reluctance Thorn edged toward her, only to be nearly bowled off her feet by Wink, who rushed forward as though she had been waiting for the summons all along. “Oh, Knife,” she said, looking up at her with tear-bright eyes. “I’m going to miss you!”