Page 13 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“You don’t have to go with me,” I tell her. “But I have to try this, if there’s no other way to leave the Isle. I have to findthem.”
I don’t speak their names. She already knows who I’m looking for.
“Fine,” she relents. “How do we get there?”
“When the Wizard and his lover built the Emerald City, they also created golden paths throughout the Isle of Oz, all leading to the city’s gate,” Glenna says. “Once you leave the village, you’ll see the road immediately. But you’ll need to stay inside the village walls until we’ve put out a scarecrow, or you’ll be eaten before you get very far.”
Dorothy’s jaw drops.
I’m more used to the idea of being eaten—after all, the Unseelie Queen devoured my heart, and Caer used to hint that he wouldn’t mind a mouthful of me. Still… “Eaten by what?” I ask, in a forcedly casual tone.
“The crows. They don’t disturb us as long as we remain within the walls, or under the shadow of the trees, but swarms of them haunt the fields between the town gates and the forest. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll set out a scarecrow to distract them so you can make it to the woods.”
“That’s—kind of you,” I say hesitantly, though it doesn’t make sense that a scarecrow of straw and rags would distract flesh-eating crows.
“It has nothing to do with kindness,” Glenna says, with a cold, brilliant smile. “In Faerie, we return the favors paid to us. You destroyed the East Witch, freeing our minds, so I will do this thing for you. It is no trouble—we already have a scarecrow prepared and marked as the next sacrifice.”
The wordsacrificealarms me still more, and I suppress a shudder, feeling slightly frantic at being alone here with Dorothy, protected only by the favor we did for these Fae. I glance down the table again, wondering when the feast will finally be over—and my gaze latches on the silver-armored guard again. His helmet is angled toward me, like he’s watching me, though it’s impossible to tell with those eye-slits. There’s a tension to his massive shoulders, a suppressed threat emanating from his whole body. Maybe he hates humans and doesn’t like the fact that his village is beholden to a pair of them.
The music surges suddenly louder, a compelling song that tugs at every heartstring I possess. It slides into my chest like a golden river, softening my anxiety, blurring my concerns until they seem like silly little worries. The music laughs with me, begs me, lures me to flow along with it.
All the Fae rise from the feast tables, eager to dance by the light of the bonfire, beneath the stars.
I heard Fae music at the Dread Court, but that was a wild clash, a hectic throbbing explosion. This melody is a different style altogether—mystic, irresistible, dripping with salacious secrets. I realize I’m on my feet, though I don’t remember rising.
Dorothy orders Fiero to stay under her seat, out of the way, while she and I leave the table and mingle with the whirl of robed figures. Some of the Fae catch my hands, passing me to one another.
Dorothy is laughing, her eyes alight with wild glee. “I’ve never been able to dance this well before!”
“Do you think it’s the shoes?” I call back.
“I have no idea!”
Before tonight, I’ve barely danced at all. There’s never music in our farmhouse, and when I hear music at Lord Drosselmeyer’s, it’s usually during one of his parties, when I’m serving his guests. And those songs were never this entrancing.
Maybe there’s sorcery in the blue shadows of the night, or in the crystalline gleam of the stars, or in the soft sway of the trees over my head—or maybe the music itself lends grace to the hearer—but I find myself carried along with the melody, my body freed to move like it never has in my life. I’m not so much dancing asfloatingalong the earth, my feet light as stardust, borne along by magic and music.
I can barely remember why I was concerned—everything seems too wonderful for worries. I’mhere. In Faerie. Still far from the two Fae I’d most like to see, but I made it back, and that’s half the battle won. I’mgladto be here, truly. Hope races through my heart—hope and joy because Iwillsee Caer and Riordan again—nothing will stop me.
I’m dancing in a blissful frenzy, laughing, eyes full of firelight and stars, when I notice the armored guard in the shadows, leaning against the wall of a building. Again, I have the sense that he’s watchingme.Not Dorothy and me, butmespecifically.
Something about his stance, his solidity, is like a tether—a lifeline in the sea of endless, reckless melody. My heart craves that stillness, that calm.
I dance toward the guard, letting my body bend and sway and ripple with the music, every movement a challenge. But instead of rising to the bait, he withdraws deeper into the shadows and pauses there, his metal-clad arms still folded, until my continued advance is unmistakable. I’m headed straight for him, and he knows it.
He straightens, and his arms fall to his sides. He stands absolutely still, as if he has rusted in place, but I can feelthe tension and anticipation rolling off him.
The way he’s standing… something about his posture…
I stop dancing and approach him cautiously.
“Why are you watching me?” I ask, moving closer.
He shifts slightly, a scrape of metal boots on the quartz pavers. It’s a small movement, but it betrays his agitation.
“You don’t talk? Or maybe you can’t.” I survey his armor—strangely smooth, no marks of battle. This close, I can tell it’s not made of actual silver—probably fabricated from some Fae metal I don’t know the name of.
“This is Talon,” says Glenna, appearing at my elbow. “He’ll be your escort to the woods tomorrow. He doesn’t speak much, do you, Talon?” She smirks, then downs another goblet of wine. “He came to us some time ago. The East Witch couldn’t enthrall him for some reason, but he vowed to be a good citizen, so she let him stay with us. I’ve never seen him remove his helmet, or any other part of his armor, for that matter. He doesn’t eat, drink, sleep, or piss—not that any of us have seen. Perhaps the armor is actually empty.” She reaches out and raps the chestplate with her knuckles. “I’ll wager there’s something solid in there. Maybe you can convince him to—expose himself.” Still chuckling, she wanders back into the dance.
