Foxglove Read online

  The searches would have been called off by now. James had probably been let go. For all she knew, the house had been sold and her mother was back in Hong Kong, assuming she’d gone through the trouble of coming back at all. After all, there was no body to bury and no ashes to spread. Her mother wasn’t the type of woman to grieve publicly. Even during the investigation, the police would have been able to reach her by phone. Only Tammy would have benefited from a memorial service, and she and Maddie’s mother had never met.

  Rain visited three times a day with food and water. For the first few weeks, she’d been cheerful, but Maddie’s curt responses had put an end to that. These days, she came in quietly, set the tray down, and left.

  Maddie kept wishing that one day she would wake up to a fully-functioning human heart, and that Rose would come in and say “Maddie! Great news! We can send you home!” But that day never came, and each new morning brought closer the dreary realization that it never would. There were probably still a few missing-persons signs taped to lampposts around town, but soon those would disappear, and people would move on. They would have to. But Maddie never would. The Veil was her world now, Amaranth was her home, and there was no going back.

  Maddie rolled over and cried into her pillow. Some days she just couldn’t help it.

  The door opened, but Maddie didn’t have the energy to look up. It was probably Rain with her breakfast. A hand touched her shoulder.

  “Maddie?”

  Maddie’s eyes snapped open.

  “Your highness!” she said, sitting up in a panic. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was you!”

  The queen’s face glowed in the dim light of the room. “It’s okay, and you can call me Rose. I just came to check on you. You’ve been in here a long time.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Maddie said, rubbing her eyes. She pulled up her blanket and dried her face.

  Rose sat down beside her. Her dress flowed like a blood-red river over the sheets.

  “I know,” she said. “But you can’t give up. You never know what tomorrow might bring.”

  Maddie sniffled. “Will it bring me home?”

  Rose folded her hands in her lap. “Probably not,” she said. “Maeve’s still working on it, but so far she hasn’t turned anything up. I wish there was more that we could do.”

  “I’m dead,” Maddie said, slumping back into her pillows. She covered her face with her hands, fighting tears that were already welling up again.

  Rose took her hands and pulled her gently back up. “You’re not dead. You’re breathing, and you can walk and see and feel. That’s enough for a start.”

  “I don’t want to start,” Maddie said, her voice ragged. “I want to go home!”

  Rose came in and gave her a hug. Maddie felt the warmth of her body as the queen whispered in her ear.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sometimes things happen to us that we can’t change, but you have to keep going. You have to hold on to hope.”

  Maddie coughed, and the emotional dam broke. She cried for what seemed like forever, tears running down her face, until Rose’s shoulder was wet with her grief.

  Eventually, the tide ebbed, and Maddie sat up.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know anything about this place.”

  Rose leaned back, making a long reach to a glass of water from the nightstand. “Well, what did you study in school?” she said, handing it to Maddie.

  Maddie gave a bitter laugh as she wiped her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Right,” she said, sipping the water. “School. I have no idea. Rose, I couldn’t even pick a major for college.”

  Rose stood up, held out a hand, and said, “Maybe I can help you with that.”

  Maddie sighed and stared at her outstretched palm. “Do I have to?” she said.

  Rose gave a wry smile. “It’s a royal order. Come on. You’ll like it.”

  Maddie climbed out of bed. Until now, the furthest she’d bothered to go was the chamber pot near the door, a concept that had floored her when Rain brought it in.

  Rose moved to help her up, but these days Maddie could stand and walk on her own. Her wound had healed and the scabs were gone. She wore only a pale, glossy scar under her bedclothes. Time had, at least, managed to accomplish that.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, moving slowly.

  Rose took Maddie to the door and opened it, gesturing through. “It’s a surprise.”

  She led Maddie into the corridor and up a dark, narrow staircase. Maddie marveled at the expansive interior of the city-tree. It seemed to go on forever, but the tight quarters and sparse lighting lent a kind of cozy atmosphere to the place, even if it meant barely being able to walk side-by-side. A trail of orange mushrooms lit their path as they passed bedrooms, conference rooms, dining rooms, and all sorts of other chambers until they came to a little wooden door. The image of a man and woman working a loom had been carved into it.

  “This is my personal parlor,” Rose said, leading Maddie into the room. “I come here when I need to unwind.”

  A huge, flat mushroom grew across the room’s low ceiling, covered by a wooden cage. The lattice flowed down seamlessly from the wood, carved meticulously to form a scene of children running through the forest. Enormous pillows of red, green, and brown were heaped against the walls, which were overflowing with old books bound in leather and thick cloth. A fire burned in a gallon-sized stove in the center of the floor. Its small flames flickered quietly as they warmed the room. The smoke escaped through a pipe set into the wall.

  Maddie gasped, staring up at the sculpture. “This is beautiful.”

  “It took me years to finish it,” Rose answered with a smile.

  Maddie wandered to the wall, running her fingertips over the books. “You did all this?” she said in wonder. “Yourself?”

  The queen walked over to a pile of pillows across the room and sat down. “My husband and I worked on it together for a long time. He never did get to see it finished.”

  She pointed to the carving covering the mushroom. “Those are our children. The girl on the left is Theresa, our oldest. The boy behind her is our son, Finn. The others… we never had, but when my husband died, it just didn’t seem right to change the sculpture, so I carved them the way I always pictured our family would end up: three girls, two boys.”

  Maddie looked back at the artwork with renewed reverence. Two children. Five in the piece. She’d never thought about having kids. She always imagined there wouldn’t be time, and the last thing she wanted was to end up like her mother, having a child and no time to raise it. But for the queen, it must have been such a disappointment.

  “Do you mind if I ask what happened?” she asked.

  Rose’s face tensed, tortured by the dull ache of an old wound.

  “Gwynedd killed him,” she said. “Many years ago.”

  Maddie hurried over and sat down beside her to take her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… you know.”

  Rose forced a smile and drew a fingertip under her eye to catch a tear. “There are many who have lost loved ones at her hands,” she said. “You are not alone among those she has hurt.”

  She took a long breath and leaned back into her cushion, staring at the carving on the ceiling. “A lot of my plans changed when my husband died. For a while, I felt like nothing would ever be the same. In the end, I realized that my life was going to have to change. I knew that he wouldn’t want me to live the rest of my life in mourning.” She put her hand down on Maddie’s knee. “Do you understand?”

  Maddie covered the queen’s hand with her own. It was a hard truth to face.

  “I think so,” she said.

  Rose gave her hand a squeeze, cheer slowly returning to her expression. “A life is something you build,” she said. “It was up to me to find something else to give me purpose, so that I could cherish the dreams my husband and I did achieve. I still had a city to care for, and my two children. It
was strange at first, knowing I wouldn’t have the large family that we’d planned, but over time, the city and its people became my family.”

  “And then you became queen?”

  Rose laughed and lay back on the pillows. “No, I was the queen already. Amaranth was always my city, even before there was a city. I built it with my husband from the ground up.”

  Maddie leaned back, doing the math.

  “But wouldn’t that make you—?”

  “Very, very old,” Rose finished. “Faeries are long-lived. The oldest among us have exceeded a thousand years.” She got up and picked her way along the wall of books. “Leadership of the city came to me naturally as it grew, though if truth be told, I never really committed to the role until after my husband died. It was easier to let my counselors handle most of the work. When I took up the reins, I found that I could dismiss nearly all of them. Now, there’s only one left.”

  “Which one?” said Maddie.

  Rose slid a heavy book from the shelves and returned to the pillows. “His name is Cedric. He’s my librarian, and also my son’s teacher, which brings me to why I brought you here.”

  Maddie tensed and sat up. “What reason is that?”

  “I’d like you to take lessons here at the palace,” the queen answered. “If nothing else, it will give you something to do, and maybe with some time you’ll start to feel a little less—”

  “Dead?” Maddie interrupted.

  Rose pushed the book gently into her hands. “I was going to say lost.”

  Maddie read the title: Fair Folk of the North American Realms.

  Rose knelt down in front of the stove. “The author is from one of the European city states,” she said, closing the vent to snuff it out. “I thought an outsider’s perspective might help you.”

  Maddie ran her fingers over the binding. It was dated 1909. The pages inside cracked like dried leaves as she opened it. All the textbooks she’d ever read had come in full-color glossy paper, but there was something appealing about the worn out tome, an antique magic that spoke of old stories and ancient mystery. The queen had certainly found the right bait to lure Maddie out of her slump. After all, how many chances would she get to study a magic realm? And if she stayed cooped up in her room forever, it was only a matter of time before she withered away or went mad.

  “The Veil is a place of dreams,” Rose said. “You just have to find your own.”

  Maddie thought for a long moment and shut the book. “I guess it’s somewhere to begin.”

  “Good!” Rose said, clapping her hands. “You’ll start tomorrow. I’ll have my staff draw up a lesson plan. In the meantime…”

  She paused and blushed. Maddie smiled as she watched the queen’s face turn a deep shade of green.

  “What?” Maddie said.

  Rose covered her mouth with her hands. “I don’t know how else to say this,” she said, muffled. “But you need a bath.”

  Maddie’s face paled with embarrassment as she sniffed herself and grimaced. She smelled like… well, like someone who hadn’t left her room in three weeks.

  “Come on,” the queen said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Back to Life

  Rose handed Maddie off to her handmaid, the same blond girl Maddie had seen twice before. She had on a green cotton apron embroidered with yellow flowers. A tight braid secured with brown ribbons held her curls in place. Rose introduced her as Ebba, and she started talking the moment the queen was out of earshot. Maddie discovered that there was no interrogator more ruthless or intimidating than a curious eight-year-old girl. She wanted to know about “human stuff.”

  “Have you ever kissed a boy?” she asked.

  Maddie blinked at the question. “That’s not your business.”

  Ebba groaned. “Boring! I’ve kissed lots of boys.”

  “At your age?” Maddie said.

  The girl nodded affirmatively.

  “It’s easy if you tackle them first,” she said. “You should try it.”

  Maddie’s face flattened. “Uh huh. I think I’ll pass.”

  “Suit yourself,” Ebba said, skipping down the hall ahead of her. She pirouetted around. “But you’re going to need my help if you want to learn to be a faerie. I’m an expert.”

  “Are you, now?”

  Ebba stomped her foot. “I am! I’ve read books and everything! And I’m going to teach you so that you can tell Rose how knowledgeable I am. Then she’ll put me in charge of all the other handmaids in the palace.”

  Maddie couldn’t stop herself from smiling. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” Maddie said. “I’ll try to be a good student.”

  Ebba eyed her for a long moment before saying, “Okay.”

  The bathroom’s huge, metal door was only a few yards away from her own quarters. A thick brass ring hung in the center. Rain was leaning against the wall beside it when they arrived.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  Maddie looked down at the book Rose had given her. “A little bit, yeah.”

  “I thought you might be,” Rain said, giving her a little punch on the shoulder. “Rose has that effect on people. Come on. I’ve got the water hot.”

  Ebba bounced off down the corridor, returning to her own duties, but not before Maddie promised to comply with her own “top secret” portion of the coming lesson plan.

  Rain said, “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s really harmless.”

  “She’s certainly enthusiastic,” Maddie replied. “Are all faerie children like that?”

  Rain shook her head. “Absolutely not. Ebba is an anomaly, but we love her, and she’ll mellow out once she gets to know you. Remember, she’s never met a real human before.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” Maddie said. “Before I came here, I’d never met a real faerie.”

  Rain said, “It’s actually pronounced ‘fay-ree.’ And it’s only natural for her to be curious. She’s lived in the palace practically her whole life.”

  “Doesn’t she have any parents?”

  “Died in a windstorm when she was four,” Rain said, taking hold of the door handle. “Rose took her in. Actually, she started taking care of me at about the same age. The queen has a soft spot for lost souls.”

  Maddie looked down the corridor after Ebba and said, “I guess I’ll fit right in.”

  Rain yanked on the door and it groaned open. Heat washed over them as a cloud of steam billowed out. A low warm light flickered inside. Maddie peered into the room, squinting to see a deep, clay tub sitting over a fire in an iron bowl. Smooth, flat stones covered the floor, and, through the gloom, she glimpsed a tall cupboard against the wall.

  Rain pulled a little wooden step stool over over to the tub.

  “In you go,” she said.

  “Um…” Maddie chewed her lip. “Is there a screen or something?”

  It took Rain a moment to realize what she meant. “Oh, of course.”

  She turned her back while Maddie disrobed. As she got out of her clothes, Maddie looked down and grimaced at her scar. Her chest looked like it had been to the morgue and back.

  “Ready?” Rain said, still facing the wall.

  A fine mist rose up from the tub, carrying with it the soothing fragrance of lavender and exotic salt. Maddie pulled her eyes away from her scar and climbed over the rim of the tub, sliding down into the fragrant water. The heat turned her muscles to jelly.

  Maddie stared up at the wooden ceiling, idly remembering all the lonely hours she’d spent in the tub at home, examining calcium deposits between the ceiling tiles.

  Rain fetched a handful of cloths, sponges, and rainbow-colored soap from the cupboard.

  Then she held up a brush.

  Maddie couldn’t help but think of her mother. She swore by domestic staff. Living in Hong Kong, or perhaps just as a consequence of being rich, she employed an army of servants to perform all manner of tasks and serv
ices: manicures, pedicures, massages. They even helped her get dressed. It all sounded very luxurious, but it was just so… medieval. Maddie felt that the things domestic servants did were things everyone ought to be doing for themselves. Bathing was at the top of that list.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” Maddie said, trailing off.

  Rain handed her the brush. “You’d rather wash yourself,”

  “Yes, please.”

  Rain popped over to the wall and dragged a tall, spindly table to the edge of the tub.

  “I’ll be just outside,” she said, depositing the shampoo and sponges on top of the table. “If you need anything, just call.”

  After she washed, Maddie spent a few minutes soaking, staring up at the ceiling and inspecting the calcium deposits. Some things never changed. She closed her eyes and drifted away, grateful for a moment of relaxation and peace. The popping of the fire warmed her senses, and the back-and-forth of the palace swaying in the breeze gently rocked her to sleep.

  It was peculiar, yet strangely calming, to be inside a living building. Maddie could almost feel the water being drawn up the trunk that formed the walls, the slow crawl of roots digging down into the earth, and in the distant corners of her mind, the soft whispering of the city and its people.

  “Maddie?”

  She felt the water ripple.

  “Maddie?

  Rain touched her shoulder, and the peaceful haze disbursed like a summer fog vanishing in the sun. Maddie looked up at Rain, blinking, and yawned.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she asked, eyes still half-closed.

  Rain held out a towel. “I would have left you, but I didn’t want you to overheat. Let’s get you dried off, then we’ll find you some coffee and something to eat.”

  The water sloshed as Maddie sat up and took the towel.

  “Coffee?”

  Creature Comforts

  Rain helped Maddie dress and led her down a long, sloping tunnel that spiraled through the center of the tree. It was like navigating an anthill, if ants had mastered architecture and had a penchant for turn-of-the-century decor. A tantalizing aroma of meat, vegetables, and wood smoke crept into the air as they descended, and running through them all was the most intoxicating smell in the world: coffee. Maddie considered it the drink of the gods, and there were few problems it couldn’t solve.