Foxglove Read online

  She fidgeted with her dress. She’d discovered the wardrobe in her room was filled to bursting with them. Maddie didn’t question the faeries’ generosity, but she’d never been a fan of dresses, preferring blue jeans and sneakers to skirts and slip-on shoes.

  “Sorry about the clothes,” Rain said, noting her unease. “The dresses belong to Princess Theresa, but she never wears them. She said you could use them while you’re with us.”

  “No, it’s fine!” Maddie said, scrambling. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

  She straightened the fabric over her hips. The dress wasn’t the only thing she wasn’t used to. None of the outfits came with underwear, and there wasn’t any in the dresser either. Either the faeries went commando or there simply hadn’t been any extra sets available. Maddie couldn’t figure out a good way to bring it up.

  They emerged beside a huge, clay structure that had been fastened to the trunk at the foot of the palace. It resembled a wasp nest. A sign hung over heavy leather curtains covering the door. It read: Rose’s.

  Maddie’s mouth watered as Rain drew the curtains aside. A blast of heat, dripping with savory spices, practically knocked her off her feet. She could almost taste the food in the air.

  Years of baked-on soot and grease blackened the low, clay ceiling. Huge ovens lined the walls, yawning open with red-orange light while strangely-shaped roasts turned on iron spits. Long tables ran along the center of the room. A small army of faerie chefs and their diligent assistants surrounded them, shouting and barking out instructions as they buzzed from station to station, busily preparing the meals for the day.

  Maddie paused as she looked around. “They’re all women.”

  “Of course,” Rain said, taking her hand.

  The fairies working the line glanced up, staring at Maddie as they passed. The work began to slow.

  Rain stopped and swept her gaze over the room. “Hey! Back to work!” she shouted. “Lunch is in an hour!”

  They snapped back to their duties.

  “Don’t mind them,” Rain said. “They’ve never seen a human up close.”

  Maddie looked around warily. “Right…”

  Rain led her to a little door at the back of the room. It opened into a pint-sized kitchen at the bottom of a short stairwell, far homier than the first. Rain sat Maddie down on a stool next to a tall table opposite the stove. Soft light fell across its pitted surface, shining down through a tiny, street-level window near the ceiling.

  Rain opened the pantry and began to lay out breakfast.

  “Rose and her husband opened this place as a restaurant when they came over from Europe,” she said, grabbing a cast-iron skillet from a hook on the wall. “His name was Amaranth. She named the city after him when he passed. The main kitchen used to be the dining room. This is the old kitchen. Eventually she added a trading post, a hotel, and a stable, and the city grew around the establishment. Once she started having kids, she converted the original businesses into the royal residence, but she kept this room the same. She doesn’t come down often, but I think it helps her to know it’s still around.”

  The door opened and a woman crept in holding a ladle filled with orange soup.

  “Is this alright, matron?” she said.

  Rain put out a hand. The woman stepped gingerly over and handed her the ladle.

  “One second,” Rain said to Maddie, tasting it. She handed it back to the cook. “Needs more paprika.”

  The woman scuttled off. Maddie watched her go before she slowly brought her head back around.

  “You’re not just a servant girl, are you?” she said.

  Rain laughed and put the kettle on to boil. “Technically, my title is matron, but I only make the kitchen staff use it. Keeps them on point. I oversee the queen’s household. Don’t worry, you can still call me Rain. Rose asked me to make sure you were comfortable, but I’d like us to be friends.”

  “I’d like that too,” Maddie said, trying not to gawk. Rain couldn’t have been more than 20. “How do you get a job like this? I mean, you’re so…”

  “Young?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Rain returned to the pan and sprinkled it with salt and pepper. “I’ve lived here almost my whole life. No one knows the palace like I do. There were other applicants when the old matron retired, but she picked me to be her replacement. Her name was Heidi. She was a great woman. Very strong.”

  “That’s amazing,” Maddie said.

  Rain bowed. “Thank you.”

  There was a brief pause in the conversation.

  “Hey, speaking of applicants, where are all the male faeries?” Maddie asked. “Don’t any of them work here?”

  Rain opened a cupboard by the sink and grabbed a plate.

  “A few,” she said. “They aren’t really suited for it, though. I mean, there’s a lot of pressure, and working at the palace is pretty prestigious.”

  “You mean they’re not allowed?”

  “No, they’re allowed,” Rain said. “But they have more submissive personalities. It’s kind of a quirk of our species. It’s not common for faerie men to reach higher positions. Even experienced leaders have a hard time maintaining control once there’s a woman in the picture.”

  “What about kings? Mayors?”

  Rain gave a slow shrug. “I’m not aware of any.”

  Maddie was floored. Talk about a glass ceiling, or rather, a glass floor.

  “Do they mind?” she asked.

  Rain kept her eyes on the sizzling pan. “I’ve never met one that did. I’m sure some do, but most don’t seem to care. It’s just natural.”

  Maddie didn’t buy it. She’d taken too many social studies classes not to recognize the traditional arguments, albeit applied in reverse. For the moment, she decided not to press the subject. It was a different world, after all. For all Maddie knew, faerie men were all as meek as field mice.

  Maddie sat quietly and watched Rain cook, feeling a little jealous of her talents. She could cook for herself up to a point—eggs, toast, chicken fingers—but she’d never really invested in the skill. Rain handled the ingredients with ease, slicing and frying like a master chef. Maddie appreciated the old-fashioned image. Looking at this world was like viewing an old oil painting, rich in color and enchanting in its simplicity.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Rain said, emptying the pan onto a plate as she turned around. She set the meal in front of Maddie. “Bon appetite.”

  As the kettle started to whistle, Rain spun around and snatched up a couple of mugs for coffee.

  Maddie’s stomach rumbled as she looked down at her plate, but something wasn’t quite right.

  “What is this?” she asked, picking up her fork.

  “Steak and eggs,” Rain said. “I thought you might enjoy something familiar.”

  Maddie gulped. The egg yolks were pale and slightly translucent, and the steaks, which looked more like slices of ham, were white and had a glossy sheen that reminded Maddie of calamari.

  “Steak and eggs… from what?” she said, poking at the yolks.

  Rain sat down across from her, pointing at the food. “Those are ant eggs, and that’s pan-fried grasshopper. Try it! You’ll like it.”

  Maddie took a deep breath. She’d gone with her father to visit her mother in China once, and they’d all gone out to a fancy restaurant that served sea cucumber and fish with the heads still on. Her twelve-year-old self was not quite prepared for the experience, but her parents scolded her for turning her nose up. Once she tried it, the food turned out to be delicious. Since then, she’d made it a policy never to judge a culture by its eating habits. Only one worry lingered in her mind. If you could eat their eggs for breakfast… how big were the ants?

  The grasshopper tasted like Canadian bacon. The eggs tasted, surprisingly, like eggs.

  Rain poured Maddie a cup of coffee. She drank it and sighed in contentment.

  “So, what’s it like being a matron?” she said.

 
Rain started washing the dishes. “Busy. I have staff to handle most of the legwork, which is why I can spend time with you, but organizing the assignments can be a real pain. There are over 300 people working here.”

  “Sounds like a big job.”

  “It is, but I love it. I like knowing that Rose can depend on me, especially now.”

  Maddie finished her breakfast. “What’s so special about now?”

  Rain took Maddie’s plate and brought it to the sink. Maddie stood up and walked over to help her dry the dishes.

  “There’s a big festival coming up,” Rain said, handing Maddie the skillet. “People from all over the Veil will be coming into town, not to mention about a hundred VIPs from other cities, all of whom will be staying at the palace.”

  Maddie grunted as she hefted up the iron pan and dried it. “Where do they come from?”

  “All over the Veil,” Rain said, passing Maddie a plate. “Usually deeper.”

  Maddie dried the dish and set it aside. She was still having trouble wrapping her head around the Veil. “What do you mean, deeper?”

  Rain pulled the stopper on the sink, turning to lean against it as it drained.

  “Deeper in the Veil,” she said. “It’s not just a wall between us and the humans. The Veil is also a place. Amaranth was built near the surface. Some communities are even closer to the human world, but most faeries live deeper within it. The farther down you go, the more the world becomes a kind of untamed wilderness, filled with huge flowers and strange plants. It’s very beautiful, but things are different even where we are. The trees of the Veil-city are larger, as you’ve seen, along with the animals and insects. We can’t see Chicago or the suburbs, but if you go to the real surface of the Veil, you can walk right down the city streets.”

  After everything Maddie had seen and experienced, it wasn’t hard to imagine that such a construct might exist, even though it was completely outside the realm of physics. She put researching it at the top of her to-do list. If she was ever going to find a way home, she would need to know as much about the Veil as possible.

  They finished putting the dishes away and sat back down at the table.

  “How big is the Veil-city?” Maddie asked.

  Rain squinted at the ceiling. “Maybe 25 square miles? You can walk it if you have to. Most of the people live in the main city-tree, but there are dozens of smaller settlements all around us, scattered throughout the layers of the Veil like… I don’t know, raisins in a cake.

  “Personally,” she added, “I prefer to visit Chicago. It’s very exciting, and the food is great. Maybe someday Leoh and I can take you.”

  “And who’s Leoh?” Maddie asked.

  “My boyfriend,” Rain replied. “He lives in one of the Chicago settlements, where he runs a business importing human goods. He’s actually making a delivery today. If we hang around for a bit, you might get to meet him.”

  Maddie screwed up her forehead. “How does that work? Isn’t the Veil supposed to stop, you know, everything?”

  Rain paused, struggling to explain. “No,” she said. “Higher animals can’t get through the Veil, but objects can be pulled through easily as long as no one is looking at them.”

  “Looking at them?”

  “It’s all part of the magic,” Rain said with a shrug. “But the important part is, once something is on our side, it can’t go back.”

  Maddie’s face fell.

  “Sorry!” Rain said as she realized the implication. “I didn’t mean—”

  Maddie stared down at her reflection in her coffee. “It’s alright,” she said. “I’m just trying not to think about it. What sort of stuff do you take? From our side, I mean.”

  “Little luxuries mostly,” Rain said. “Soda, food, vaccinations. We prefer a natural way of life. Our ancestors used to take more, but these days, we produce almost everything we need, although human goods are still a popular trade for city faeries.”

  Maddie quietly said a prayer for every city faerie in Chicago. Anyone who could bring pizza and carbonated beverages to a place like this was basically an angel.

  “And Leoh is coming now?” she said.

  Rain stood up from the table and looked out the little window. “He should be here any minute. He doesn’t know you’re here, by the way. Rose wanted to keep it quiet until you got settled. But don’t worry, I’m sure the two of you will get along great.”

  A few minutes later, a set of knuckles knocked on the window. Maddie looked up and saw a pair of bare feet standing outside. Rain undid the latch, and a thin, sun-faced boy slid down into the room. It was the first time Maddie had laid eyes on a male faerie. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting.

  A shirt, probably.

  He was short— no taller than Maddie— and cute, in a Huckleberry Finn sort of way. Chestnut hair sprang out in all directions in a mass of cowlicks on his head. He carried a bag over his shoulder on a wide leather strap. Dried dirt and grass stains covered a pair of denim jeans, which he secured to his waist with a length of knotted rope. The dangling ends hung to his knees. Lean muscles tightened along his arms and across his shoulders as he swung down over the sink and planted his bare feet on the floor.

  Like the other faeries Maddie had seen, his eyes were long and almond-shaped. Cast in silhouette by the light from the window, they seemed to softly glow.

  Rain slipped a hand around behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

  “Wait! Rai—!” he blurted out, muffled.

  Bottles clinked in his satchel as he fell back against the sink. When Rain let him up, he wore a dazed grin.

  “Good morning to you too,” he said, holding up his satchel. “I have the queen’s delivery.”

  He opened it up and took out a square cloth bag. It thumped heavily against the table as he set it down and glanced across the table at Maddie.

  “I’m Leoh,” he said. “Are you a new employee…?”

  He stopped, staring.

  “Ho-ly crap.”

  Maddie waved. “Hello.”

  Leoh raced around the table. “I’d heard the rumor,” he said, “but I didn’t believe it. But it’s true! You’re here!”

  He stuck out his hand. “I’m Leoh. I run the Triple-C.”

  “Triple-C?” Maddie said, shaking his hand.

  He struck up a proud grin and thumped his chest. “The Cook County Caravan. Fine human commodities at affordable prices. Catchy, isn’t it? We operate mostly in the north suburbs. I’ve got a storefront in the Spiral Market.”

  “What’s the Spiral Market?” said Maddie.

  “It’s the main market in Amaranth,” Rain cut in. “At the top of the ramps where the trunk meets the city.”

  Leoh winked and clicked his tongue in his cheek.

  “Prime real-estate,” he said. “Pretty cool, eh?”

  Maddie chuckled. Faeries said “cool.” Weird.

  “Sounds great,” she said.

  Leoh closed his satchel and hefted it up onto his shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to be going, but feel free to swing by the shop if you’re looking for the comforts of home.”

  “She doesn’t have any money, Leoh,” Rain reminded him.

  He paused. “Oh, of course.” His hand went into his bag and came out with a green glass bottle, tightly sealed with a shiny aluminum cap. “Then consider this a gift. Welcome to the Veil. Mountain Dew, 2019. Very good year.”

  Maddie practically drooled as she took it and twisted open the cap. The liquid burned like lemon-lime fire in her throat, and she let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling in rapture.

  “I think I love you,” she said.

  Leoh made his way to the door.

  “Staying over tonight?” Rain asked.

  His face took on a green tint. “If you’ve got space on the couch.”

  Rain took his cheek and locked him into a kiss.

  “Oh, you won’t be on the couch,” she said as she let him go.

  His knees were practical
ly wobbling as he went up the stairs and out the door.

  Maddie’s emotions churned as she sat in the little pioneer kitchen. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, but as she reveled in the joy of her pilfered soda, a small part of her entertained the hope that maybe the worst was over, and that maybe spending a little time living with the faeries wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  First Mover Advantage

  Morrow stepped quietly into Gwynedd’s chamber. Weeks had passed since the human woman slipped through his mistress’s fingers, and they were no closer to recapturing her. Morrow hoped in vain that his mistress had abandoned the pursuit and turned her thoughts to other matters.

  The sight of the bodies in the middle of the floor crushed that feeling. Morrow stepped around them as he walked. Gwynedd sat quietly, combing her hair in front of his mother’s mirror. Pure white porcelain framed its silver surface, casting back the harsh electric light that filled the room.

  Like Morrow’s sword, the mirror was one of few objects left that bore the artistry of the old Erlkin society. Morrow had never been able to figure out why his mistress had taken them from their home in the deep Veil. The human city didn’t suit his people, and in only a few short years, their culture and history had all but bled away.

  But perhaps that was the whole point. A prosperous nation would not kneel so easily to her madness.

  “What do you want?” he asked, coming to stand behind her.

  She set down her comb. “I have need of you, little prince. The time has come for us to make our next move.”

  She walked to her bed and slid a heavy wooden box out from under it.

  “What’s that?” Morrow said, following her.

  She opened the box and drew out a thin vial made from black glass.