Rise of the Fey (4 page)

“Down here as in Lake High?” Luther asks, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I nod eagerly.

“Are you implying there’s a traitor among us?” Lady Ysolt asks.

I see Father Tristan straighten up from his slouched posture.

“I’m not sure he was a traitor,” I say tentatively. “They had an argument and then Dean knocked the guy down. He may even have killed him.”

“An argument?” Gauvain asks. “What about?”

I frown with the effort of remembering every detail of the scene spied in the cellar between Dean and the unknown man.

“I’m not sure,” I say at last, “but they seemed to know each other and the man said something about Dean missing an ingredient.”

“Who was it?” Father Tristan asks, leaning forward.

“Dean called him Myrdwinn.”

Puck suddenly yanks down on my hair and I yelp out in pain.

“Are you sure about that?” Father Tristan asks, a note of excitement in his voice which he usually reserves for his sermons.

“Yes,” I say, finally managing to rescue the remaining strands of hair out of Puck’s sticky grasp.

“What did he look like?” Father Tristan asks and, despite the distance, I can see the feverish gleam in his eyes.

“Young, brown hair… I didn’t really get to see him properly, since Dean went straight for me after attacking him, but I thought perhaps he was the director’s grandson.”

“The child is obviously lying,” Luther says dismissively. “We all know Myrdwinn, and the man is old and senile.”

“You’ve got to believe me!” I say. “Someone must have seen him around, or at least found his body in the cellar, and—”

“There was no body in the cellar,” Irene says curtly.

“Maybe the man woke up,” I insist. “Maybe he’s somewhere else around here and—”

“Enough,” Lady Vivian says, rising from her seat of air. She turns to me with a severe look. “Need I remind you that you are here on trial, and that you are bound by your blood oath to tell us the truth and nothing but the truth?”

I flinch and take an involuntary step back. Lady Vivian has never spoken to me that way before. In fact, when I last saw her, she was taking my defense against Irene…

I look pleadingly at the priest and the KORT knights, the only ones who’ve taken my words seriously so far. But Father Tristan’s sudden interest seems to have fled just as quickly, and none of the knights are meeting my eyes.

“I see that we’ve exhausted Morgan’s knowledge on Carman and Dean,” Lady Vivian says. “Thank you for letting me listen in.”

She nods towards the judge then exits from the arena, her steps so light she doesn’t leave a trail behind on the sandy ground.

I let my shoulders droop. Everyone I know has turned against me, so what’s the point in continuing this charade?

“Let’s go back to the Sangraal, shall we?” the judge says once Lady Vivian is gone. “When you first found it, did you perchance see any evidence of Excalibur as well?”

“I beg your pardon?” I ask, startled out of my own dark thoughts.

“Excalibur,” the judge repeats. “A Fey weapon that went missing around the same time as the Sangraal.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about a weapon,” I say. I look up sharply, hope blossoming one last time in my breast. “But I can show you where I found the cup if you want.”

“Please do,” the judge says, standing up so quickly everyone else around the table scrambles to follow suit.

As he unchains me, the guard tries to pull Puck away from me, but the hobgoblin hikes around my neck and hisses at him. The man throws me a dark look, giving up, then yanks on my restraints to get me off the podium. I shuffle towards the jury members assembling by the entrance, feeling apprehensive.

“Where to?” the large woman shouts over to me, wobbling down the steps of the dais, her large belly jiggling before her like a hyperactive jellyfish.

“The inner courtyard,” I say, pulling hard on my chain to make my guard stumble.

As we proceed out of the arena, I find myself the subject of intense scrutiny from a small group of students who have decided to brave the rain and watch my trial. Sitting in the very center of the small group is a girl with hair like spun gold. My mouth twists downward as I meet Jennifer’s eyes.

The girl looks much improved from the last time I saw her: The black veins that had covered her body are gone, giving her skin a diaphanous look, and the eyes that once were closed to the world are now open and filled with an intense hatred. I grimace—guess she’s as unhappy as I am about me saving her ass.

As I pass along the wall beneath her section, her squire Sophie flicks her finger and a large pothole suddenly opens up at my feet. I fall onto my face, cutting my lip open on my manacles, and the group of onlookers roars in laughter.

The guard pulls on my chain, and I let out a strangled gasp as the metal collar bites into my throat.

“Up!” he growls.

I push myself back up, Puck struggling to stay on my shoulders, and find Jennifer smiling at me. I licking the blood off my already healed lip then grin back at her.

If ever I get out of this alive, I silently promise her, I’m gonna make you pay.

Jennifer quickly looks away, her azure eyes looking troubled.

“Get moving!” the guard barks, prodding me with the tip of his steel-toed boot.

With a final nod in Jennifer’s direction, I resume my forced march towards the school. As we reach Lake High’s northeastern entrance, I can’t help but notice that the massive door’s once beautiful carved tableau of nymphs is now marred by deep gouges. A parting gift from the horde of Fomori that attacked us while Dean was up on the surface freeing his mother-dearest.

Percy, in the lead, pushes the heavy door open and we engulf ourselves in the darkened hallway in pairs. Our footsteps echo back to us as we cross the building, mixing themselves to the whispers of students watching us go by. Finally, we stride past the herbarium and find ourselves in the school’s inner courtyard.

The gardens look peaceful, untouched by all the death and destruction left by the attack. Standing tall in the middle of the courtyard is the giant apple tree, its branches heavy with apples.

“I can’t believe it was in the school,” the fat Board member huffs. “All this time we’ve been looking for it and it was right under our noses?”

“Makes you wonder if someone didn’t purposefully hide it from us,” Father Tristan says.

“We all know Gorlois did it,” Irene says. “No need to rehash useless facts.”

“Or the girl’s lying,” Luther says again.

“And now, child?” the judge asks me.

I point to the center of the courtyard with my chin.

“The Sangraal was in the tree, of course!” Father Tristan says, drawing a formidable roll of the eyes from Sir Boris.

“No,” I say, “the makeout—I mean the hedge hides a staircase that takes you to a small room below. That’s where I found it.”

Father Tristan pushes the other Board members out of the way in his rush to get to the wall of roots that stretches from the apple tree’s massive trunk all the way to the school’s inner wall, forming a small maze where couples at school like to snog all day long. Within seconds he’s disappeared inside, leaving the other jury members to examine the hedge from the outside.

“You’re not making any of this up, are you?” Arthur whispers in my ear.

“Why would I do that?” I ask.

“You were under a lot of stress,” Arthur insists. “A hallucination—”

“I know what I saw!” I snap.

Although, as I watch the others inspecting the area without success, I’m starting to doubt myself.

“Perhaps we should cut our way through,” Percy says, drawing his sword out of its sheath.

He raises the blade up then, with a practiced movement, swings it down. The sword slices through the thick roots like butter, but before he can take another swing, more vines move over the shorn area, thick black thorns sprouting over them like a hedgehog’s prickly back.

Irene yanks on my chain until my head is level with hers. “Explain,” she says, her breath tickling my chin.

“The roots move away when you get close to them,” I say. “You saw what they just did. Except, opposite.”

“Then show us,” Irene says, dragging me behind her like a dog.

But despite us getting closer, the wall of roots remains inert. I frown, idly scratching Puck who’s now cradled in my arms. “I-it worked before,” I say.

“I said she was lying, didn’t I?” Luther says. “I hope it’s evident to everyone now.”

I feel my cheeks burn. “I wasn’t lying! I came here, and the wall moved away to form a staircase. Even Puck knows about it, he’s the one who showed it to me!” I wrench the hobgoblin away from me and hold him before the hedge. “Show them, Puck,” I urge the small hobgoblin. “Show them where the staircase is.”

But Puck just looks over his shoulder at me and lets out a loud burp.

“See?” Irene says scathingly. “She’s nothing but a filthy, two-tongued little—”

“There’s no need to lose your civilities, Lady Irene,” the presiding judge says.

“What is more,” Gauvain says, his French accent thick, “Fey don’t lie.”

“She’s part human,” Irene retorts. “It could make her capable of falsehoods.”

“Says the woman who’s lied to me all my life,” I mutter, facing the hedge again.

Sweat pools under my armpits as every gaze is back on me, waiting to see what I’m going to do next. I wave my arms before it, my heavy chains clinking together. Then, as I don’t get any response, I push my hand through the wall of roots. Maybe I can force the vines away from the passage…

But as I try to clear them away, the roots suddenly tighten around my wrist, a long thorn embedding itself deep into my hand. I bite on my lower lip to refrain from screaming, tears springing to my eyes as the thorn keeps pushing itself through my flesh. I reach in with my other hand to free myself, but more vines creep over my arm, keeping me locked in place. A knife suddenly flashes in my vision before attacking the hedge.

“Hurry,” I whisper to Arthur as a blood-red flower blooms at the thorn’s base, a drop of nectar beading at the tip of its long pistil.

Arthur finally manages to pull me free, causing the bead of nectar to fall on my manacle. The metal sizzles as it comes into contact with the flower’s liquid and I gulp as the iron dissolves, leaving a wide hole behind.

“And to think that could’ve been your arm,” Percy says, patting my shoulder.

Holding my bloody hand up to my chest, I keep my eyes on the make-out hedge. Not only do Carman and Irene want me dead, but now I also have to add a stupid tree to the list?

“The girl is wasting our time,” Luther says, “and I’ve got pressing matters to attend.”

I nervously rub my hands together, the hole left by the thorn in my palm already closing over. Why won’t the stairs show up?
And why does the tree suddenly not like me? I’m still the same person who—

I freeze. “I’m not the same,” I say out loud.

“I beg your pardon?” the judge asks.

I whirl around, my long chain wrapping itself around me. “The tree doesn’t recognize me anymore,” I say. “But I haven’t changed at all except for—”

“The seal,” Arthur says.

“You’re saying the seal…acted like a keycard?” Father Tristan asks.

I nod emphatically. “Exactly! That’s the only way—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Luther says already heading back the way we came. “This girl’s excuses are getting more outlandish by the minute. The longer we stay here, the more we’re getting involved in her little games. We came here, we saw nothing. Period.”

Resigned, the judge follows suit, trailed by the rest of the Board members and KORT knights. With an evil smirk, the guard pulls harshly on my chain to get me going.

“Looks like it’s the end of you after all,” he tells me with a wide grin. “And believe you me, I’ll be more ‘n happy to chop off that she-devil head of yours.”

“But she can’t be trusted!” Irene snaps after the judge and the jury members have deliberated, their whispers never distinct enough for me to hear what they’re saying about me.

“And she has repeatedly gone against express orders,” Luther adds.

I sag against the podium to which I’ve been chained again, letting Puck play with my manacles. I look up at the clear sky-lake
then breathe in deeply, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. In a few minutes’ time, I’ll be back down in my stinky hole with Nibs for company, so I might as well enjoy these last few moments at the surface. My only regret is not getting to find out the truth about my parents.