Page 50 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
We follow a pillared hallway that ends in ornately paneled doors, before which stand two guards and an exquisitely gorgeous Fae male with a sheet of shining green hair all the way to his feet. He holds a long roll of parchment that curls in endless loops along the tiled floor.
“Names.” He poises his quill over the roll.
“Caer, Riordan, Jasper, Dorothy, and Alice. And Fiero,” I add hastily.
The Fae scribe frowns a little. “Two of you have already had an audience with the Wizard. Those two must wait outside. The rest of you may enter.”
Obediently, Riordan and Caer move aside. Their silence and compliance makes me so anxious I can hardly bear it. Ever since I’ve known those two, they’ve been fighting for control of their own fates and future. I hate that this Green Wizard—this god-star or whatever he is—has taken that from them so easily.
Jasper seems less meekly obedient—just overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. When I glance at him, he actually meets my gaze. He was resistant to the compulsion of the East Witch; maybe he’s immune to the effect of the Wizard as well.
“Stay outside with Caer and Riordan,” I tell him. “Watch them. See that they don’t move from this spot.”
“And hold Fiero.” Dorothy pushes the dog into Jasper’s arms. “If he barks or growls, listen to the warning.” She catches me watching her and gives a tight shrug. “I may not like it, but Fiero is safer with him than inthere.” She nods toward the doors the guards are opening for us. “If I lose myself during this audience with the Wizard, I give you permission to slap me.”
“Agreed. One more thing—don’t make any wish until I say so. Let’s see what happens with my wish first.”
A shadow of uncertainty crosses her face, but she nods.
“First things first,” says the scribe. “You can’t appear before the Wizard in that.” He grimaces, eyeing the blue-checked cloth I’m wearing, then Dorothy’s ragged dress. At a wave from him, a Fae woman steps forward and places a shining emerald cloak around my shoulders, fastening it in front with a gold pin. She sweeps a second cloak around Dorothy and fastens that as well.
Satisfied, the scribe steps back and gestures us forward with a flourish. Impulsively I take Dorothy’s hand, and together we enter the throne room of the Wizard.
18
My silver shoes ring against the glassy green floor as Alice and I pace forward between soaring columns, toward the dais at the end of the long room.
An archway of twisted green metal stands on the platform, and from its peak hangs a swinging perch—and on that perch is the loveliest bird I’ve ever seen. It has feathers of green and yellow, an enameled beak of jade and gleaming gold, and sparkling emerald eyes. Its tail sweeps in a long, graceful curve, brushing the floor.
“I wish we had Clara here,” whispers Alice. “If he really is a god-star, she’d be able to see his true form. I’m fairly surethat’snot it.”
“How clever.” The bird speaks in a cool ripple of unearthly sound, and its body shifts, condensing, then lengthening into the lithe form of a cat. Parts of its body are still enameled—blue, green, and gold—while others are cloaked in rich green fur, like the softest grass.
“What do you think my true form is, human?” says the cat, leaping smoothly to the floor as the perch vanishes.
A strange sensation flows over my body—a compulsion, a desire to kneel, to prostrate myself, and to speak the one true wish of my heart before this great Being, this One who deserves all my worship—
My fingers slacken in Alice’s hand, but she renews her grip, squeezing hard until a flash of pain clarifies my thoughts again.
“I have no way of knowing your real form, my lord,” Alice says.
“It is just as well. You could not bear its glory.”
“Once my master, Lord Drosselmeyer, called all his servants out to the lawn to observe an eclipse,” Alice counters. “He gave us special glasses so our eyes wouldn’t be damaged by the power of the sun. Are you saying you can’t manage a similar feat?”
The cat’s lips twitch back, baring its teeth. “Of course I can.” A gilded box appears before us. “Open it.”
I bend and unlatch the lid. Inside is a tangle of spectacles, all different shapes and sizes, most of them opulent in style, with colored lenses.
“Choose,” says the cat, “and I will reveal myself to you. If you choose correctly, I will grant you two wishes instead of one. Choose wrong, and you will be struck blind, and will have to use your one wish to reverse the condition.”
Alice’s terror is palpable in the strength of her grip. I twist my hand free and lean farther over the chest, peering at the glasses. “What color is the opposite of green?” I ask her. “Red?”
“I think so.” Alice stirs the tangle of spectacles, then pulls out a small plain monocle with a clear lens, not a shadow of tint to the glass.
I take out a pair of gilded goggles with deep ruby lenses. “Together?”
Alice nods, placing the monocle over her right eye and closing her left. It’s a smart choice—if she’s struck blind in the right eye, she’ll still have sight in the other. I should close one of my eyes as well.
