Foxglove Read online

  “Drink,” she said, handing it to him.

  He held it up in front of his face. “What is it?”

  “A spell, of course,” she said. “It will allow you to get close to the girl.”

  Morrow removed the stopper and looked inside. Threads of black and red mingled on the surface of the green liquid. The aroma of his mistress’s blood slithered into his nostrils, and he fought the urge to drink. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled against the dreadful thirst that had plagued him all his life.

  He was too young to remember, but to his mother, it must have seemed a fair arrangement at the time: a royal appointment in exchange for saving her son. Gwynedd healed him using her own vile humours, the mixture of the soul and the blood, and he had been addicted to them ever since.

  “It had better make me invisible,” he said. “You know, the war was only 20 years ago. Our people aren’t exactly welcome in Amaranth.”

  Gwynedd shut the box. “It will accomplish far more than that. Its magic will make you appear as one of the faeries.”

  Morrow glanced over his shoulder at the bodies on the floor. All faeries, all women. Their worn boots and leather garments marked them as hunters. No doubt his mistress had taken them in the woods.

  “Do I have them to thank for this?” he said.

  “Don’t be squeamish. Their sacrifice was necessary,” his mistress answered. “Now, drink.”

  Morrow felt a pressure on his neck as the witch’s will pressed down on him. He lifted the vial and poured it down his throat.

  His mistress walked back to her chair to watch.

  Morrow’s stomach turned as the magic took hold. Shooting pain ran down his legs and through his arms. He convulsed and collapsed onto the ground. It was like he’d been tied to a wrack and pulled to the point of tearing. His bones broke. His ribs cracked. He screamed in agony as he twisted and contorted on the cold stone floor. Gwynedd laughed at the spectacle, and Morrow saw her smile as she watched him writhe. His vision blurred red as the magic clawed its way across his face.

  As the pain subsided, Morrow pulled in a quaking breath.

  “Did it work?” he said, shuddering.

  Gwynedd beckoned him to the mirror. “Look.”

  Morrow crawled over and hauled himself to his feet. His face flushed, hot with anger as he stared into the silvered glass. A woman’s face stared back at him.

  “What have you done?!” he said, putting a hand to his cheek.

  “I should think that would be obvious.”

  Morrow staggered back, struggling to control his transformed body. He was taller than before. Dense muscles packed themselves around lean limbs, and hair the color of crows fell to his waist. His foot slipped out from under him, and he hit the floor with a thump.

  Gwynedd gave a disappointed sigh and crossed the room to a cupboard in the corner.

  “I combined the humours of nine women to create that body,” she said. “Try not to break it.”

  “Why not use male hunters?” Morrow shouted.

  Gwynedd opened the cupboard and returned with a heavy leather backpack and a pair of boots. “The faeries have so few, it would have taken weeks to gather them,” she said, dropping the items at his feet. “Idiot.”

  She retrieved the box from the wall and brought it over. “The backpack contains a few changes of clothes and some money. Use them to get yourself established. There is enough potion to last you eight weeks. Each spell will last 24 hours. You would do well not to miss a dose, unless you relish the thought of undergoing the transformation a second time.”

  Morrow grumbled and returned to the mirror. This was going to take some getting used to.

  Gwynedd slapped his cheek. “And don’t gawk. Try to act naturally.”

  Morrow put a hand to his face, running his fingers along his new, sharp features. Hard skin like tanned leather answered his unfamiliar touch.

  “Why only eight weeks?” he asked.

  “That is when the summer will reach its peak. After the solstice, it will be too late.”

  “And how do I get close to the girl?”

  Gwynedd drew a leaflet from her robes and handed it to Morrow.

  “Through her friends,” she said.

  Morrow mumbled as he read. “Fine human commodities… affordable prices…” He looked up from the paper. “A job?”

  “The human girl is alone in this world,” his mistress said, moving to the door. “I have been watching her. The wards cloud much of my vision, but she longs for the luxuries of her old race. It’s only a matter of time before she grows homesick, and you will be there when she does. In the meantime, I will work to gather a few allies.”

  Morrow lifted the backpack onto his shoulder and picked up the box of potions.

  “What allies?”

  “You said it yourself: Amaranth is envied. There are many who might be convinced to help us if they believe we can succeed. You must not fail.”

  She pushed the door open and stepped aside.

  “Now, go.”

  Old School

  Maddie folded up her class schedule and stuffed it in her pocket. It was her first day of school, and despite the fact that it had been a long time since she was a freshman, she wanted to come across as nonchalant as she made her way across the palace. The queen had come through with a lesson plan, complete with an hourly schedule, and Ebba had been reassigned to serve as Maddie’s guide.

  The young girl skipped along the dim corridors, humming to herself as she led Maddie to her first class: antiquities. Maddie assumed it had something to do with history. Most of her lessons were to take place in the palace library with Finn.

  Prince Finn, Ebba had reminded her.

  Somewhere deep in Maddie’s subconscious there was a 12-year-old girl bouncing up and down. Maddie gave her a time out. While the notion of a faerie prince did have a certain appeal, as she approached the narrow door to the library, she found herself speculating as to the kind of person he would turn out to be.

  Would he be intelligent? Charming? Handsome? The movies of her childhood predicted as much. On the other hand, real royal families tended to be made up of stuck up, arrogant, overbearing brats. It was anybody’s guess which would turn out to be true in a literal fairy tale.

  Concerns aside, Maddie was excited to begin her new education, and genuine excitement was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  Ebba had insisted she dress up, just in case the prince fell hopelessly in love with her. Maddie had grudgingly consented to a brown ankle-length dress patterned with pale yellow vines, though she’d drawn the line when her guide had offered to braid her hair. All of this was in exchange for a guarantee that Ebba would find her a pair of jeans and a regular shirt within 24 hours.

  A carving of desks and books coated every inch of the library door. Ebba pulled it open, and the two of them quietly went inside.

  Maddie glanced around. A fire burned unattended in the hearth, spilling warmth over a pair of hefty desks that took up the middle of the floor, hemmed in by stacks of books. Neat rows of wooden, metal-tipped fountain pens and dark glass inkwells rested on the desks’ freshly polished surfaces. Maddie pushed a rolling cart aside as she and Ebba made their way into the room. Her eyes wandered to a huge oak desk in the corner, piled high with still-more books and papers. Its surface was worn, pitted and scarred from decades of use. A tall blackboard stood beside it on a wooden frame. Maddie smiled at the peculiar mix of the cramped space: equal parts sitting room, rabbit hole, and fire hazard.

  Ebba scanned the room in disappointment.

  “Aww, he’s not here yet!” she moaned, smacking Maddie on the leg. “I told you to let me braid your hair.”

  Maddie suppressed a smile and glanced above the fire, where an old-style cuckoo clock hung from a peg on the wall. They were indeed early. Maddie dismissed the crestfallen Ebba, who only left after Maddie promised to provide a detailed report when she came back to take her to her afternoon classes.


  Maddie went to the desks, but she hesitated before sitting down, unsure of which was hers. She examined both stations, hoping to find a clue. The desks were identical: papers, bottles of ink, pencils, erasers, and stacks of soft cloth for blotting the papers dry. She leaned over and began rooting through the desks’ deep drawers.

  “Looking for something?” a voice asked behind her.

  Maddie froze. She hadn’t even heard the door open. Cursing inwardly, she straightened up and turned to face the door. It was the prince, whose first image of her, now and forever, would be her butt bent over a desk. Fantastic.

  She’d expected him to be older… and less cute. He was slightly shorter than she was, with spiky blond hair roughly combed over a lean face. A red doublet with slitted sleeves hugged his shoulders, revealing a flash of black fabric underneath that matched his boots. There was a playful spark in his smile that drew Maddie’s attention to his eyes, which glowed a piercing blue.

  Handsome? Check. Human? Not quite.

  But her instincts told her he was close enough.

  “There should be some candy in the second drawer of that one,” he said, pointing to the desk on the left. “I have a supply for emergencies. Don’t tell Cedric.”

  Maddie looked between the desks and the prince. “No! I mean… I wasn’t looking for anything. I was just trying to find my desk. You have candy?”

  He walked over and slid open the bottom drawer. It was empty.

  “They took my candy,” he said, sighing.

  Maddie felt her heart break. “I’m sorry.”

  He went to the chalkboard and wrote, You owe me 12 maple drops.

  “There should be a law against it,” he said.

  Maddie watched him. “There isn’t?”

  He drew the chalk along under the message in a determined swipe and set it down.

  “Evidently not,” he said, squaring off to her. He bowed, one arm held out to the side and the other offered forward, palm down like a lady’s in an old movie.

  “My name is Finn,” he said. “You must be Madeline.”

  He waited. Maddie stood for a moment, confused, before she remembered Rain’ comments about the faeries’ matriarchal nature. Gingerly, she took his hand and leaned down, mimicking the old films. She kissed his fingertips, and he straightened up.

  “First time?” he said.

  Maddie gave a polite nod and folded her hands in front of her. “It’s just a little backwards. And you can call me Maddie.”

  The prince went back to the desk. “Maddie it is,” he said. “I suppose my people must seem very strange.”

  Maddie said, “No. Just different.”

  He sat against his desk. “Well, hopefully I can make a good impression.”

  Doing pretty well so far, Maddie thought.

  The door opened and an older man stepped through. His hair was ashy gray and the wrinkles on his face suggested the beginnings of old age, which in faerie terms probably meant he was ancient beyond description. He wore a long, burnt orange western overcoat that went to his ankles like a robe. Thin, gold-rimmed glasses framed a pair of shimmering amber eyes.

  He bowed and offered his hand to Maddie in the same fashion as Finn.

  “My name is Cedric,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Foster.”

  Maddie took his hand and he straightened up, skipping the kiss.

  “Are you ready to begin?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Maddie said, taking a breath as she looked nervously around the room. “Thank you for having me.”

  The corners of his eyes creased as he smiled and walked to the blackboard.

  “It’s the least we can do,” he replied, taking up an eraser to wipe away Finn’s note.

  The prince grumbled.

  “Our first topic for today is antiquities,” Cedric went on. “Then we’ll move on to art history, literature, and government. Please take your seats.”

  Maddie followed Finn to the desks. The prince hesitated a moment as Maddie started to sit down.

  She caught herself and paused, thinking for a moment before she decided to ask, “Who’s supposed to pull out whose chair?”

  Finn smiled and came around to her side of the desk. “You, technically,” he said. “But in the spirit of inter-species diplomacy…” He pulled out her chair. “Allow me.”

  Maddie sat down.

  Charming? Check.

  Cultural Differences

  Intelligent?

  Not so much.

  “How can you say that?!” Maddie shouted. “Our democracy is not a farce!”

  Finn sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It’s not a democracy; it’s a republic, and it is a farce. Your legislature is slow, your election system is flawed, and half of your politicians end up in jail.”

  “It is not half!”

  “Well, it should be. And by the way, your courts are a joke.”

  Maddie leaned across her desk. “I suppose you’d prefer to just throw out the whole thing and establish a monarchy… have some king throw anybody they want in jail!”

  “Queen,” he said, cracking a smarmy grin. “And our people are freer than yours.”

  Maddie had never been so infuriated in her life. After four hours of class, Maddie’s patience had reached its end. If she weren’t certain that it would get her banished or executed, she would have taken her fountain pen and stabbed it into Finn’s smug, arrogant little faerie face. And what the hell happened to the submissive personality of faerie men? It was bullshit!

  She turned to Cedric. “Would you say something to him?”

  “I’d say the two of you are doing fine by yourselves,” Cedric replied with amusement.

  “But he’s wrong!”

  Finn put up a hand. “I am not.”

  Maddie grabbed her pen.

  “Alright,” Cedric said, putting up his hands as he got to his feet. “That’s enough for today. Both of you study up tonight. We’ll have a debate in the morning and get this settled before it turns to bloodshed.”

  Maddie cracked her knuckles and fixed the prince with a hard stare.

  “I’m going to destroy you,” she said.

  He didn’t even blink. They gathered their things and left, but Finn didn’t stay. He had fencing lessons to get to. Maddie watched him go, stewing as she waited for Ebba to come and get her.

  Fencing lessons, she grumbled in her head. Well lah dee dah.

  Ebba demanded a full report when she arrived.

  Maddie gave it to her straight: the prince was a jerk.

  Ebba was devastated, but only for a moment. Within a dozen steps, she was convinced Maddie had simply failed to recognize his obviously positive qualities. Maddie rolled her eyes and let the matter drop as Ebba led her to the stable for her final course of the day: animal studies. Like every other route through the palace, their path wound around the interior of the tree. A cool draft blew in as Ebba opened the door and led her out. Maddie made it halfway through before she threw herself backwards and latched her fingers onto the door frame.

  “What?” Ebba asked, stopping to turn around.

  Maddie gave a mad laugh. Ebba was standing on the edge of a two-foot walkway nailed to the outside of the palace wall. The wooden ledge hung open, no railing, the spaces between its boards yawning to reveal a drop of hundreds of feet to the ground, and that was assuming she didn’t crack her skull on the city rooftops in the lower branches. The wind threatened to shove Maddie off even as she maintained her death grip on the door. Ebba swayed gently in the breeze like it was nothing.

  “I-Isn’t there another way?” Maddie asked.

  Ebba grumbled and stomped back towards her. “Come on. It’s easy!” she said, taking hold of Maddie’s belt with a tug. “You’re not going to fall.”

  Maddie’s fingernails dug into the wood. Any lingering thoughts she had about classroom lectures and frustrating princes were blown away by the rising terror of gravity and death. She squeezed her eyes shut and shrank back i
nto the corridor.

  Ebba held firm, and her voice became stern.

  “Maddie, you have to come out. It’s just the outside. We’re almost there, and I’ll be with you the whole way.”

  Ebba pulled on her again.

  Maddie’s tendons strained in protest as she slowly released her grip on the door and forced her eyes open.

  “You’re sure it’s safe?” she asked.

  Ebba let go and huffed. “Of course. See?” She jumped up and down on the planks before sticking her hand back out. “Now, come on.”

  Maddie trembled as she reached out and took the girl’s hand. Ebba slowly led her along the path, which wound around the palace wall for a dozen yards before breaking off to run along a branch. Maddie locked her eyes onto the back of Ebba’s head as she forced her brain to ignore the deadly drop only a few inches away from her feet. One of the boards creaked. Maddie snapped an eye shut and winced as they passed through a cluster of leaves, and their destination sprang into view.

  Her eyes rose skyward.

  It hadn’t occurred to her that the stable wouldn’t be for horses.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “It’s an aviary.”

  The building perched on the outer limbs of the tree, a towering scaffolding of wooden floors and spindly metal supports. Spiraling stairways connected the airy layers alongside broad ramps, cargo lifts, and elevators, while an enormous platform spread out over the top like the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Bursts of color and movement fluttered and flashed as the pilots came and went, riding on the backs of giant birds too numerous to count.

  A chorus of voices filled the air, calling, crying, and singing until the sound blended together into a single, awe-inspiring roar. Maddie clamped her hands over her ears as the noise filled her head, but the power of the aviary’s occupants rattled through her skull all the same.

  Maddie’s knees buckled, and she sank down. Ebba reached into her pocket, pulled out a pair of cotton earplugs, and stuffed them into Maddie’s ears. Helping Maddie to her feet, she led her across the remaining distance to the entrance.

  “I’ll come back for you at the end of the day!” she shouted, pointing to the base of a broad ramp. “Head up that main walkway. You can’t get lost. Just keep going up. When you get to the top, ask for Kidhe. He’s your teacher. Everyone knows him, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”