The Faerie Path (11 page)

Anita opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Hopie stood up. “How is the pain now?”

“Better,” she admitted.

“Good. I will leave the potion at the bedside. Take
more if needs be.” She frowned. “I have other duties to perform. Call for me if the pain is not gone by cockshut time.”

Anita stared after her as she left the room, too bewildered to ask what “cockshut time” might be. She felt her shoulder, surprised by how quickly the pain was receding.

That stuff might taste and smell like something that had been scooped out of a drain, but it certainly did the trick.

She looked around. The walls and ceiling of Hopie’s bedchamber were paneled in rich, dark wood, carved to resemble trees and ferns and tall brittle grasses. Polished wood vines climbed the posts of the bed and spread out under the canopy, hanging with bunches of wooden grapes and large flowers carved in the shape of stars.

As Anita stared up, a small movement caught her eye. A bumblebee was busy at one of the flowers. It was the same deep brown color as the carved wood, but it was
moving
. As she gazed at it, the wooden bee took to the air and hovered for a moment before flying ponderously along under the canopy of vines to another wooden flower.

She remembered what Zara had told her yesterday when she had asked about the living paintings in her bedchamber:
“Hopie’s chamber is a dark woodland.”

She sat up, her pain almost forgotten. All around her, the paneled walls rippled with subtle movement. The carved trees swayed in a breeze that she could
neither hear nor feel. Blades of grass moved as small creatures passed by in the undergrowth. A deer peered out from behind a brown trunk for an instant and then was gone without a sound, its short tail flicking away into the carved shades.

Enthralled by the gentle charm of the room, she looked at a chest-of-drawers carved so that it resembled the stump of a great, felled tree. She noticed a hand mirror lying on the polished surface of tightly coiled tree rings.

She remembered how eerie it had been to look into the face of the statue of Titania in the mausoleum.

Were they really so very similar?

She swung off the bed and limped across to the chest-of-drawers. She was brought up with a gasp as a wooden dragonfly emerged from the forested wall, startling her, hanging for a moment in front of her, then darting back into the trees.

She picked up the hand mirror and went back to sit on the bed.

She stared into the glass.

“If this is a dream and the pain was just part of the dream, then why did it hurt so much?” she said aloud to her reflection. “And if the pain was
real
, why didn’t it wake me up?”

Her face gazed back at her.

Queen Titania’s face.

Her face.

They were one and the same.

Anita brought the mirror closer so that only her eyes were reflected.

Smoky green, flecked with gold; widening with a sudden, overwhelming understanding.

This wasn’t a dream.

She was the daughter of Queen Titania and King Oberon. She was a Princess of the eternal Realm of Faerie.

Stunned, she made herself say the words aloud:

“I am not Anita…I am
Tania
!”

Tania awoke with a start. She remembered returning to her own chamber, exhausted and bewildered, throwing herself fully-clothed onto the bedcovers and falling immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She felt strangely refreshed and alert, although at first she couldn’t think why. Then she realized that the pain of her fall was all but gone. There was a vague, faraway thunder in her head and a twinge or two in her shoulder and leg, but otherwise she felt fine.

She sat up. Golden sunlight raked across her room from left to right, making the wood paneling glow and lighting up the colors of the tapestries. Beams of sunlight picked out the deep red of the bed curtains and made the glass bottles on the chest-of-drawers glint and sparkle.

She got off the bed, gingerly testing her leg on the floor. No pain. She slipped out of her gown and,
dressed only in her shift, went over to the washstand. She picked up the jug and splashed water into the basin. Holding her hair back, she plunged her face into the cool water.

Toweling her face, she gazed at the tapestry that hung in front of her eyes.

She let out a low gasp. The embroidered panel showed distant mountains just as it had always done, high and wild and achingly beautiful. But now Tania was aware of a tiny slender shape picked out in the very finest black stitch work, and the shape was moving, flying across the blue needlework sky. She watched in wonder as the thin shape glided toward her in a long, lazy curve.

“An eagle!” she breathed. Now she could make out the wide span of the up-curved wings, the ragged feather-ends spread out like black fingers. She could see the white head and the magnificent curved beak. As the bird came closer and closer, she found herself gazing into its bright black eye. The beak opened as though the bird was calling. Tania stepped back, alarmed that the eagle was going to fly right out of the tapestry. But at the last second, it wheeled to one side and soared away, making slow circles as it descended into a purple valley.

Her heart thumping, Tania ran from tapestry to tapestry. The perfect mirrored image of the icebergs rippled in the cobalt sea. A polar bear lumbered across an ice floe and dived ponderously into the water. In another of the tapestries, a thunderstorm
was raging over the bowed heads of granite gray hills. A jagged strand of sewn lightning snapped at the hills, the needlework hills flaring for a moment into a frenzied blaze of white thread. The black and swollen clouds rolled. Stitches of slanting white rain fell onto a small horse-drawn wagon that fought its way along a narrow path.

Thrilled, she ran to another tapestry, a seascape of serene blue water. She gave a laugh of pure joy as she saw flying fish break the calm surface, their sleek scales catching the sunlight and mirroring it back in turquoise and emerald and sapphire thread before they slipped back again under the smooth skin of the embroidered sea.

Her room had come alive.

She ran to the window and threw the casement wide open. The light of the fading day was rich and heavy, casting long rich shadows and bathing the gardens in warm golden air. She leaned out of a window. The western horizon was banded with sun-drenched yellows and purples and reds. The scents of buddleia and honeysuckle drifted up to her. She breathed deeply, filling her head with the flowery perfume.

“I’m Tania!” she called into the air. “I really am a princess!”

She felt as if she had awoken after a long illness to find herself miraculously cured. And while she had slept, the enchantments of Faerie had come flooding back into her room, awakening her tapestries and filling them with life and movement.

But why
now
? Why had they been so still and lifeless before?

She knew the answer without having to think about it.

Because she had finally accepted that the Realm of Faerie was real.

For a long time, she wandered around the room, drinking in the wonder and the beauty of her living tapestries, trying to come to terms with what it all meant. From schoolgirl to princess. From London to a Faerie Palace. From Anita to Tania.

It dawned on her that she was still dressed only in her shift. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened the door. She chose a simple white gown; she was still lacing the bodice when there was a gentle tapping at her door.

“Come in.”

A servant girl entered. “By your leave, my lady, the King awaits you in the Privy Dining Room.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know where that is,” Tania admitted.

“I will guide you, my lady.”

Tania finished lacing her gown and smoothed down the skirts. “Lead on, then,” she said. “I haven’t had a thing since breakfast. I could eat a horse.” Eyeing her with alarm, the puzzled-looking maid led her out of the room.

One of the problems with being a princess, Tania realized as they walked down a wide flight of stairs,
was that ordinary people were kind of scared of you. She had tried to engage the maid in conversation, but the nervous girl answered only in monosyllables with “my lady” added on, and soon Tania gave up.

The Privy Dining Room was relatively small and inviting, although it had the same kind of high, ornate ceiling as all the other royal chambers, and rich, wood-paneled walls. Tall windows had been thrown open to give a view over the ornamental gardens. Dusk was coming and torches had been lit along the paths, casting a warm, soft glow over the stones. The room was dominated by a long dark wood table to which servants were ferrying dishes and platters and bowls. Tania sniffed appreciatively at the delicious smells of the waiting food.

The aromas that filled her head were of roast meat and fresh-baked pies and of steaming vegetables glazed with yellow butter, and of loaves of bread that still smelled of the oven.

The King sat at one end of the table. Ranged around him were most of Tania’s sisters and a couple of lords and ladies that she half recognized. Gabriel was sitting at his right-hand side.

Oberon and the other men rose as Tania entered.

“Come, sit by me, Tania,” said the King. “Are you recovered from your fall?”

“Yes, I’m much better now, thank you,” Tania said, making her way around the table. Zara looked up at her anxiously and reached out a hand as she passed. Tania squeezed her fingers. “I’m all right, really,” she
said. She leaned in close to her sister’s head. “My tapestries have come to life,” she whispered.

Zara’s eyes brightened. “That is joyous news,” she said. “I am so very glad.”

“Yes. Me too.” Tania looked across the table to where Hopie sat.
Thanks,
she mouthed. Hopie gave her a grave nod.

Rathina leaned toward her. “I rode Maddalena over hurdles as high as my shoulder this afternoon and never once came near to falling,” she said. “I am glad you did yourself no harm, but you must take better care of yourself.”

“I think the fall did me some good, actually,” Tania said, spreading a heavy linen napkin on her lap.

She saw Gabriel looking at her with concerned eyes. She smiled at him and his face cleared.

The King’s voice rang out across the table. “I crave your attention, my friends.” Everyone turned to look at him. “Honored guests and wise counselors, my beloved daughters, we are gathered here for a parting feast. Tomorrow I shall ride out to meet with the lords of the far-flung Earldoms of my Realm.”

“You’re leaving?” Tania asked in surprise. She had been hoping for the chance to get to know him better…especially if he really was her father.

His hand cupped her cheek. “It must be so, dearest daughter. Far too long have I neglected my duties. I must see to my Realm. I go to meet the lords of Talebolion and of Dinsel, and of far-flung Prydein and of mountainous Minith Bannawg. I have summoned
them to meet me at Castle Ravensare in two days’ time, and it is a long ride and a hard road for man and horse. I shall take with me a retinue of fifty courtiers. And as is the custom and tradition of this Court, I leave my eldest daughter, Eden, as Regent in my absence.” He frowned and his voice lowered. “But she rules in name only, for she has refused to yield her long solitude, so it is to the noble Lord Drake that I bestow the duties of the Court.” He nodded to Gabriel. “Full well has he served me, and I hold him in high regard.”

Tania looked at Gabriel. Nothing showed on his face except for a gleam of excitement that she caught in his silver eyes.

“And now, good folk, to the feast!” the King declared. “I ride in the morn!”

Tania gazed around the table. It was laden with many different dishes—roast fowl and meat on the bone, savory pies and puddings, and tureens of soup and stew, as well as dishes of vegetables and loaves of warm bread.

Looking down, she noticed that her knife was made of a bone handle onto which a finely worked sliver of sharp gray stone had been fixed. Her fork was also made of bone. She looked around the table—all the plates and bowls and serving dishes were made of wood or china.

“Why don’t you use metal?” she whispered to Sancha, who was beside her.

Sancha gave her a puzzled look. “I do not know
that word,” she said. “What is
metal
?”

“Iron and steel,” Tania told her. “Gold. Silver. Lead. Tin. There are lots of different types. We use it all the time back home.” She stopped. “In the Mortal World, I mean. We make knives and forks out of it, for instance. And jewelry and cars and airplanes and bridges and watches and computers. All kinds of things.”

Sancha gave her an uneasy look. “I think I know the substance of which you speak,” she said, leaning close and speaking in a low voice. “Here it is called
Isenmort
. It is a dire and deadly bane, as virulent as poison.” She shuddered. “The folk of the Mortal World must wind themselves about with powerful incantations to protect themselves from its blight.”

“It’s not really like that back there,” Tania told her. “Metal is completely harmless. We wouldn’t be able to do without it.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! I’ve just remembered something. Just before the accident, before I came here, every time I touched something made of metal it gave off sparks. Dad just told me it was static electricity, but I knew there was more to it than that.” She looked at Sancha. “So, why is metal such nasty stuff here?”

“Because it is not natural to this world,” said Sancha. “Its touch withers the skin and gnaws at the very vitals of the body.”

“No wonder I was getting sparks from it,” Tania breathed. “I suppose I should be grateful it didn’t kill me on the spot.” She frowned. “But if I belong in this
world, and if I’m allergic to metal, then why did it only start affecting me a few weeks ago?”

“Mayhap you were growing into your Faerie self?” Sancha suggested.

Tania nodded. Maybe.

She ate for a while in thoughtful silence.

And as she ate, the full reality of her situation began gradually to fill her mind; her life as she had known it for the past sixteen years was gone forever.

Gone forever…

A single tear ran down her cheek.

A single huge tear for her mother and her father, for Jade and for all the other friends that she would never see again, for the life that she always assumed would be hers. Playing Juliet. Finishing school. A long summer touring Europe. And then? A brilliant career? A family? A big house on the coast?

Evan Thomas?

Gone. All gone.

Taken away from her in an instant when Gabriel had appeared in front of her and she had got up out of her hospital bed and followed him.

She imagined that empty bed, the tousled covers thrown back. Nurses scouring the hospital for her. Finding nothing.

She imagined the faces of her mother and father, gray and drawn with anxiety and loss. They could have no idea what had happened to her. How could they? They would be frantic with worry.

“Mum…” Tania whispered. “Dad…”

“Tania, will you play a duet with me? I can have your lute brought down.” It was Zara’s voice.

Dragged from her mournful thoughts, Tania blinked at her.

“Our father would like us to play for him,” Zara explained.

Tania stood up. “No,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She stumbled to the door and shoved her way out into the corridor. She needed fresh air, she needed to be alone, she needed time to
think
.

She was halfway to her chamber when she came to a halt. Daylight was fading rapidly, and candles were already flickering in wall sconces along the corridor.

“I have to get back home,” she said. “I have to see Mum and Dad again.”

But how?

She knew she had the power to walk between the worlds, but so far her trips to the Mortal World had been uncontrolled and very alarming. Was there any way she could go back on purpose and use her powers to her advantage?

“Maybe,” she murmured. “If I go back to the first place I remember seeing, maybe I’ll be able to work out what to do. It has to be worth a try.” She turned on her heel, casting back through her memories of the vast palace, trying to recall the route by which Gabriel had first brought her here.

“The bridge,” she muttered under her breath as
she ran. “The white bridge.”

She ran to a window, but it faced north over the gardens. Wrong. She ran through various rooms and along several corridors until she found a window that looked out over the river.

Yes. That was the way. She made her way down to ground level and out through a doorway that led into a wide courtyard. The river was to her left, and ahead of her she saw the white towers of the bridge rising into the darkening sky.

She ran across the courtyard, already breathless, but determined to find her way back to the Mortal World, to the hospital, to her parents. Even if she was destined to stay in Faerie, she had to see her mum and dad at least once more—to explain, to try and help them make sense of what had happened to her.

Mum, Dad, guess what? I’m a Faerie princess!

It was so absurd that she could have laughed if it hadn’t also been so very awful.

She raced along the bridge, the wind whipping her hair, her skirts heavy around her legs. The night air was cool on her burning face.