Page 11 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“What’s that building?” I ask Glenna.
“The Temple of the Crows. It has stood here since the Isle was formed, millennia ago.” She seats herself at the head of a table and gestures for me and Dorothy to take seats to her right and left. “Bring wine for our guests!”
I stare hard at Dorothy, trying to communicate a warning about eating and drinking what faeries provide, but she’s too busy settling Fiero into her lap. At least she’s somewhat protected, thanks to her magic. I should probably worry more about myself.
When I first fell into the clutches of the White Rabbit, my curiosity and cleverness saved me. Riordan liked my eager mind and appreciated my genuine interest in his work. I can’t count on meeting someone like him this time.
My throat tightens as I picture Riordan’s handsome face—the gashes in his cheeks, his scarred hands. Those fingers—so methodical, so gentle. Capable of relentless horror and exquisite pleasure.
For a moment, the pain of missing him is so acute it makes me physically nauseated.
I hate him, I hate him, I want him…
Fortunately a distraction arrives as two robed Fae set down brimming goblets and heaping plates before Dorothy and me. The rest of the Fae file into spots along the benches, making room for each other’s wings or tails.
Glenna rises, lifting both hands. The center of each palm is tattooed with a bird skull—a crow, I think.
“The Witch is dead,” she says, with an exultant grin. “And the Village of Crows is free! No longer will she force us to breed and sacrifice while absorbing the magic of this place herself. No longer will we be drones, operating in thrall to her will. With her gone, all of us will be able to benefit from the Dark Blessing.”
A monotone chorus of gratitude rises from the throats of the robed Fae.
“Let us drink to the fertility of our bodies, so we may continue the sacrifices for our own benefit, and no other’s!” Glenna cries, and the Fae respond with another groan of agreement. “And let us drink to the health of our cornfields, from which comes our sustenance.”
Again her people respond with an answering drone of devotion.
“Eat, my people,” says Glenna. “And then we will dance with our guests, the saviors of this village.”
Everyone along our table bends over the food, devouring it with a noisy gusto that rivals the tumult my siblings make during dinner. In fact, there are a number of Fae children in the group—far more than I would expect, given what I know about Fae fertility cycles. Their presence, coupled with Glenna’s speech, makes me anxious. Something isn’t right here, and the wrongness goes deeper than an entire village being under a witch’s rule. There’s another kind of wickedness at work.
What did Glenna say about the food being created from the crops? And yet there’s meat on my plate—a lot of it. I poke at it gingerly with my fork, debating whether or not to sample it.
Besides me, one other person at our table isn’t eating—a tall, broad figure, clad entirely in silver armor. He wears a helmet with a grate for a mouthpiece and narrow slits for the eyes. Even his hands are covered with jointed silver plating, ending in sharp metal fingertips. He wears a blue cloak over the armor, the color marking him as a citizen of this village—perhaps a guard. Several of the other Fae wear a chestplate or pauldron over their robes, but that individual is the only one clad head to toe in metal.
“This is delicious,” Dorothy says with her mouth full. “I’ve never tasted anything so good.”
I wrench my gaze from the metal-clad man and cringe at the sight of her gobbling the food like the others.
Glenna smiles. “Everything you see on this table, even the meat and fruit, was alchemized from the ancient corn we grow in the field beyond the wall. We serve the crows, and the crows bless the fields.”
I’m still suspicious, but I’m also starving. Cautiously I nibble at the fruit and sample the wine. At my request, one of the Fae brings me a cup of water, which I drain. I don’t mind going hungry, as long as my thirst is quenched.
Dorothy seems to have no concern about the dinner, even though Fiero turns up his nose whenever she tries to feed him a tidbit. She’s acclimating a little too well. I don’t think she intended to end up here with me, and yet she seems calm and comfortable in this place. A normal human shouldn’t be this unconcerned their first time in Faerie. I need to talk to her alone.
But first, I need to talk to Glenna, and learn everything I can about the Village of Crows and the Isle of Oz.
“Can you tell me more about Oz?”
Glenna sips her wine. “Of course. You are an honored guest, human.”
“I’m Alice.”
“Alice.” She lifts her cup first to me, then to Dorothy. “The Isle of Oz is one of the largest islands in the realm, but it is so far from the Seelie and Unseelie kingdoms that they’ve left us to our own devices for thousands of years. Over the past several centuries, one family has ruled the Isle, but with the fading of the matriarch, her four children took over, dividing the Isle into quadrants—East, West, North, and South. The royal siblings bickered and squabbled sometimes, but for the most part we lived pleasantly enough. Until the Green Wizard arrived.”
“That’s the green bastard we just met?” Dorothy asks.
“No, no—that green bastard, as you call him, is the West Witch. He’s one of the four royal siblings, and his skin is only green because the Green Wizard made it so.”
Dorothy glances at me, confused, but I only shrug.
