Fairy Keeper (6 page)

That race proved critical for Nell, though. Even second place showed her potential. Elixir runners had to be quick. She was quick
and
smart―a critical combination in Jack’s estimation. Within the next couple of years, Nell’s father died and she began working for Jack, adding her small income to what her mother earned taking in people’s laundry. Nell worked her way up in Jack’s business since then. He used her as a spy when stealth was necessary, since people rarely saw a young woman as a threat compared to the usual hulking bruisers. But she was just as dangerous as any of them. She’d never liked Sierra, who didn’t know why and didn’t particularly care.

Sierra refused to run Jack’s elixirs and got several lashings, but he was nothing if not practical. He eventually stopped asking her to distribute along even the easiest routes. She earned him more simply by being what she was: a keeper.

Now, her speed would come in handy. Her queen couldn’t be very close, or the little ones wouldn’t have died. Sierra potentially had a lot of ground to cover and not much time. At least Nell would be able to keep up. She wanted a better job with Jack’s business but needed to prove her worth to promote higher. Jack was undoubtedly using this as a test. Two birds, one stone.

Nell started off running for Jack, before moving up to work in his distilleries. She was tall, giant when compared to Sierra’s own short frame, but that lanky build hid shocking strength. The heavy cauldrons she had to move and lift helped her build toned muscles, but Sierra knew Nell worked hard to stay that way. Her current job as enforcer meant being skilled with weapons, not merely having strength. Being a pretty young female in a mostly-male alchemy crew tended to push a girl to be tougher than a roaring manticore. She had brains, though, not just brawn, and plenty of ambition.

Nell leaned against the door, crossing her arms. She sent a short wave, almost a salute, at Phoebe, who solemnly waved back once and then cuddled deeper into the blankets.

“Nice boots,” Nell said, jerking her chin at Sierra’s fur-lined pair on the bed.

Nell was clearly running a price estimate in her mind, a black-market value that had her raising her eyebrows. She knew Jack would never buy something so nice for his daughter, but Sierra stuffed the boots in her bag and shrugged. If Nell wanted to start their journey with Sierra even more beaten up, all she had to do was show Jack the boots. He’d see them as proof that Sierra did steal from him. Sierra saw it as him robbing from her and her fairies every time he took all their nectar. It was supposed to be for them. It was what they needed to keep their magic strong over the winter when their natural foods weren’t available. Lucky for them, she always made sure they had enough, no matter what Jack said.

“I imagine you know a lot of good deals on things like that, right?” Sierra asked, turning away to keep packing.

Jack’s influence meant people feared him. If anyone crossed him or the people he worked for, they might find themselves turning blue while eating dinner at a tavern sometime. He would never be caught near there, but everyone knew Jack and his many poisons were not to be toyed with. It meant people sometimes tried to give Sierra all sorts of things to win favor with her father. She didn’t want anything to do with it and always bought her items fair and square. Sometimes, though, Jack’s employees preyed on scared villagers and paid less for items than they were worth, or didn’t bother paying at all. They called such exchanges “good deals.” They didn’t tell Jack about it, and Jack didn’t ask. Sierra had never actually seen Nell do something like that, but wouldn’t put it past her.

Nell glared, flushing at the implied insult.

“We may need more supplies before we go. Jack gave me some money.” Sierra kept her voice even, unaffected. Nell either went along with the change of topic, or fell for it and let Sierra change the topic. Sierra couldn’t tell which.

Nell had already packed. She must have felt weaponry was more important than food or survival gear. She bristled with sharp points: silver knives, an honest-to-goodness full-sized sword worn in a back sheath, and two bows. As if one was not enough. The one she had strung and ready was a black walnut bow, with a quiver of arrows fletched with some kind of golden feathers. Sierra had never seen anything like them.

“What kind of feathers?” she asked, because she hated not knowing details like that.

“Griffin.” Nell smirked.

Sierra hid how impressed she was. Arrows made with incredibly rare griffin feathers were top of the line. They weren’t as good as Jack’s, but then, no other arrows were. Hmm. Someone else besides Sierra had been skimming off the top to get her gear. Phoebe stayed curled in the corner of the bed. Nell made her nervous, and she should have.

There finally came a moment when Sierra had packed everything she could possibly need, under Nell’s watchful eyes. Phoebe and Sierra got ready for bed. It was too late to set out that night. Besides, with Sierra’s head still pounding away, she felt sure she’d do better the next day.

“Are you sleeping here?” she asked Nell, striving for a neutral tone.

Nell had been placed in authority over Sierra, and both girls knew it. Nell gnawed her lip for a moment and scanned the room. Looking for possible exits, Sierra was sure, like a good little enforcer. Nell was in luck, though. Their room barely fit their pallet, one knee-high nightstand, and the trunk. There were no windows. Even after the earthquake loosened some of the dirt and stones in the thick walls, no one would be breaking out through them. Cages came in many forms.

Nell compromised by laying a sleeping roll across the entry to the door, clearly determined neither girl should escape. But she lay down on the other side of the closed door, so Phoebe and Sierra had the room to themselves. That was more consideration than Sierra had expected, but maybe Nell simply wanted to avoid Sierra. The feeling was mutual.

Sierra and Phoebe put on the woolen shifts they used for nightgowns, gray and full of pulled threads. Phoebe scooted across the little pallet until she was next to the wall, like always, and Sierra blew out the tiny oil lamp Jack afforded them.

As she crawled in next to Phoebe, she shivered in air that was quickly dropping temperature as the night deepened. Sierra wrapped her arms around her little sister, hugging her close. If only Phoebe didn’t have to stay behind! Nell was a dark shadow under their door, and Sierra wondered if the older girl could hear them. Sierra gave last minute advice to Phoebe, voice hardly audible.

“Okay, listen carefully. Go to Daniel Lee for vegetables on Mondays, before the sun comes up. He’ll sell before he’s officially supposed to, and you’ll get the freshest, most tender pieces.”

“Farmer Lee sells on the black market?” Phoebe’s shocked whisper was the barest breath.

She knew to whisper. Even a rumor of black market vendors would draw Jack’s men to the door, weapons in hand. So the people of their little village and even a few vendors in Port Ostara itself developed a secret, elaborate system no one spoke of except in dark corners. Everyone had gotten tired of seeing their hard work taken for coppers.

Jack never questioned why his money bought Sierra such good quality items. He assumed it was because the villagers feared him. They did, but Sierra would never use their fear to pay cheap money for their excellent craftsmanship. The villagers didn’t want to sell to tyrants like her father’s alchemy thugs, so they arranged their trades when Jack’s people couldn’t find them. They gave each other lower prices and better products. The locals knew Sierra wasn’t like her father and treated her accordingly. She didn’t travel farther than the nearby Port Ostara, though. She didn’t enjoy the looks of hatred she received in neighboring ports when people recognized her as Jack’s child. Their incredibly similar appearance and Jack’s increasing notoriety made traveling beyond their local village depressing and difficult.

“Elizabeth Scryer sells her leather in the attic of the Lazy Lady tavern. You act like you have a question about how to tie a knot in a harness, or something like that, and she has the stuff in her bag.”

Sierra described where the black market medicine supplies were, which regular food and bread vendors could be trusted to play fair at the market, and who owed who favors. Her heart ached. Phoebe shouldn’t have to take on this responsibility. These bits of advice would be such little help for her while Sierra was gone. Her mind reached for any last tidbit of information to share.

“You remember where my emergency nectar stash is?”

Phoebe nodded against the flat pillow.

“Use it if you have to, for any supplies you need. You can get double or triple value for the money for nectar during winter, especially at the medicine booths.”

Nell was watching over them with those steady eyes now, but Phoebe would have time in the next month to find the stash and trade it for whatever she needed. Sierra shared every last thing she could think of to make this month better for her sister, including running to Corbin’s family if things got too bad. Sierra knew they’d try to help. Both girls had spent countless hours with his family at their farm and healing cabin. Sierra hated to draw Jack’s attention to Corbin’s family, but for Phoebe, she’d put even Corbin at risk. Jack wouldn’t want to upset a family of powerful healers, but he would seek Phoebe wherever she went.

Phoebe listened and soaked in all the information like Sierra was a prophet, nodding against her shoulder now and then. So brave, her Phoebe. Then there were no more words between them, only a deep silence, the kind that seemed to carry words in the thickness of the dark. The room was so pitch black, the girls couldn’t even see each other, but they didn’t need to. Sierra squeezed her sister tightly and
knew
Phoebe understood how much Sierra loved her. Nobody knew her like Phoebe did, not even Corbin, who had known her since they began school together years ago.

Sierra took a deep breath, sure she’d never fall asleep. Horrific images flooded her mind: Phoebe tortured, dead fairies strewn about like fall leaves, the missing queen trapped somewhere dark. It made her head feel full to bursting, but it had also been a very long day, and her body ached from too much abuse and too little food. Phoebe’s ragged breathing slowed. Sierra fell asleep with the sweet scent of her little sister chasing away her nightmares.

The next morning, they stood under Nell’s flinty gaze. It was time to say goodbye.

“Give us a minute, would you please?” Sierra asked. She didn’t order. She’d swallow her pride plenty, if it meant an easier goodbye.

Despite her obvious reluctance, Nell stepped outside.

“I’m going to be right by the door,” she said, a warning clear in her voice. She watched Phoebe for a second longer and turned to step out. Nell shook her head, as if she felt badly about the whole situation, but then she wiped her expression clean, completely blank. She stepped outside, a sentry on duty.

Sierra’s throat ached, and she feared she’d cry if she spoke. She couldn’t let Phoebe see that. She deserved an image of courage and hope to hold onto. The upcoming weeks would likely be long for Sierra, and hard, but how much harder would they be for Phoebe? Sierra hated leaving Phoebe alone with Jack and his associates constantly tromping through. They filled the house all night with the stink of burning sulfur from crafting elixirs and poisons in the distillery built into the little hill by the house. Worse, Phoebe knew what would happen to her if Sierra failed.

Sierra crossed the room and buried her face in Phoebe’s hair, the wild red hair she had always loved from the moment Phoebe was born. They didn’t look much like sisters, but they were of the same blood anyway. The scent of grilled onions still clung to her, but beneath that was her natural aroma, a sweet smell that conjured images of sunshine and laughter.

Clasping her arms around Sierra’s neck, Phoebe sniffled. If she cried, Sierra would melt. She knew she would.

“Kick Jack for me if he gives you any grief,” Sierra said, trying to earn a giggle. It worked.

“I’ll let you do it when you get back.” When Phoebe pulled away from their hug, her eyes sparkled with wetness but did not drop tears. Sierra’s brave little bug.

“We’re going to fix this,” Sierra told her, cupping her little sister’s cheeks in her hands. Sierra needed her to believe this.
Sierra
needed to believe this.

Phoebe smiled, the heartbreakingly sweet smile Sierra loved so much. “I know.”

Walking away was the hardest part. Losing her fairies was shocking, getting knocked down was painful, but this… leaving her little sister was like pushing her way through lava. Who would care for Phoebe?

Phoebe waved from the porch. If she was crying, Sierra was too far away to see. Waving back, Sierra walked toward the dirt road. Her pack lay heavy on her shoulders, but not as heavy as the responsibility she felt. Sierra glanced sideways at the girl matching her steps, a girl who had seemed to always dislike her, who was paid to be her jailer.

Nell gazed at the grey jagged points of the mountains in the distance. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a plan, Fairy-Girl?”

Her tone stiffened Sierra’s back and pushed the last of her tears away.

Luckily, she did have a plan.