Page 31 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“How do you think we’re related?” I ask.
“Judging by the strength of the link between us, I would say you’re my half-sister. But there’s no way to be sure until I get free of this curse and I can do a few tests.”
After a moment, I force out more words. “I should be happier about it. If Alice found out she had a Fae half-brother, she’d be overjoyed. Curious. Fascinated. But I am—”
“Indifferent,” he finishes. “I didn’t know my mother, but she was probably Unseelie like my father—which means you are also Unseelie. Your Fae blood doesn’t reveal itself strongly in your appearance, but it colors your mentality and emotions. You lack the inbred morality and social sensitivities of humans. Instead, you have the natural apathy, self-interest, and tendency toward cruelty that our people possess.”
“So the Unseelie do not love their families,” I murmur, remembering what West said as he gazed down at his sister’s body, crushed beneath the barn—that he didn’t much care for her.
“That is a common misconception,” Riordan replies. “In some Unseelie families, circumstances prevent the formation of loving connections among siblings and parents. In others, those links are so thickly forged that the death of one nearly destroys all. When the Unseelie do feel, they feel with a depth beyond what most Seelie Fae experience. But it is no use forcing an emotional bond. Our relationships develop suddenly, within days or even hours—or they build gradually, over centuries. There is rarely an in-between.”
“So you don’t mind that I’m not leaping for joy over this.”
“Not at all.”
“Do you—do we—have other siblings?”
“I had a brother,” he replies. “He saved me from our father, who was despicable even by Unseelie standards. My brother and I bonded immediately, and when he was killed, it cleaved my heart to the core. You and I may develop a bond within the next few days, but if we do not, I am perfectly content to part ways as casual acquaintances. However—if we should find ourselves inclined to a deeper affection, I will be loyal to you until death.”
A strange warmth curls around my heart at those words. No one has ever said such a thing to me. My parents love me, but it’s with a cautious, tentative love, one that carries the awareness of my strangeness, my secret abilities. I can only imagine what it would be like to have a staunchly devoted brother, a companion, a friend gifted with magic, and an ally for life against all that might threaten me.
It sounds too good to be true.
Jasper takes a step back from Alice, his fingertips lingering against her cheek a moment before his hand drops. “I’ve done what I can.”
“Which isn’t much,” growls Riordan. “I can still smell her. She’s like a fucking beacon.” He marches on, up the yellow brick road. “We may as well look for some kind of shelter.”
As we continue walking, the forest shifts into a grove of knobby, crooked trees, similar to apple trees, whose leaves are dark purple with sage-green undersides. Their boughs stretch over the yellow-brick road, so heavy with fruit they nearly brush the top of Riordan’s helmet. My mouth waters over the ripe, round offerings, frosted purple and sugary pink.
“You there—Haystack,” I say to Jasper. “What are those fruits?”
“A type of sugarplum tree,” he says.
“Edible? Not poisoned or corrupted by magic?”
“No, but you probably shouldn’t take—aaaand you’re already picking one.” He sighs as I polish the fruit on my arm. “Don’t blame me for what happens next.”
I pluck another fruit. “Alice, catch.”
She turns just in time to capture the flying sugarplum. “Oh, it smells divine.”
We both bite at the same time. As my teeth punch through the sugared skin and the juices explode over my tongue, I can’t help laughing out of sheer joy. “How is this so good?” I gasp, while the sticky syrup of the fruit runs over my fingers.
Riordan stopped walking when Alice and I did, and at my exclamation, his helmet turns toward me. “The food of Faerie is your true sustenance. As you consume it, and as you breathe the air here, your healing power will develop. You’ll never heal as swiftly as a pure-blooded Fae, but it’s an ability worth having.”
While I gnaw deeper into the fruit, I seize another and toss it onto the road, in case Fiero wants a taste. He sniffs cautiously before nibbling at it.
A shivering rustle runs through the tree above me, followed by a shudder from the next tree, and the next, until all the trees bordering the road are quaking, branches groaning and thrashing, leaves showering the yellow bricks. A breathy wail rises from the trees, a keening sound of loss and rage.
“Itoldyou!” Jasper shrinks from the tree nearest him. “We should run.”
“Why?” As the word leaves my mouth, a branch snaps out, smacking me hard on the temple. Stars dance through my vision, and my eyes water with pain.
Fiero erupts into frenzied barks, his ire aimed at the trees. He’s barking so forcefully his entire furry body practically bounces off the ground. More branches swing across the road, knocking against Alice and Riordan.
“They don’t like us stealing their fruit,” Jasper explains. “Run!”
All of us pelt along the road between the rows of wailing, tossing trees. A sapling lashes at me like a whip, but Fiero springs between us and bites it, right near the roots. Still barking, he runs farther into the forest.
