The Rise of the Fairy Queen (The Fairy Queen Trilogy Book 1) Page 8

  Elsie laughs and they hug again before Elsie watches her fly away, the scarlet ribbon falling from her belt loops as she goes. Elsie rushes to pick it up and calls out to her, but she’s gone; the trees swallowing her up.

  Elsie runs the silk through her fingers. It feels like a sign that it was Dayle’s and now she has it. She wraps it around her wrist and ties it in a bow. She will keep it and remember Dayle and try to be like her.

  She turns to join Meg, who has just flown out of sight, when she feels rough hands grab hold of her. Before she can scream, someone clamps a hand over her mouth and then pulls a hood over her face. The darkness swallows her and she cannot scream. Only whimper.

  Someone lifts her up and flies them away, and all she can do is go along with it. The same as she did when her father remarried. The same as she did when her step mother remarried. The same as she did when they locked her up. The same as she did when they told her she would marry a prince from across the seas who she had never met. The same as when Meg told her it was time to leave her home, her land, and her memories of a happier time.

  Deciding to come back to Allaire is the first choice she has made in a long time, and now some random fairy has stolen her away. From Meg, who is always beside her. From the troupe who were her only hope for defeating her step parents and having a future free from guilt.

  She’s angry and helpless and cannot even struggle. Whoever has hold of her has her in such a tight grip she can barely breathe. She closes her eyes and concentrates on her feelings of anger. She has never really felt anger before. She has felt sadness at her parents’ deaths. She has felt sad at being locked up. Helplessness at not being able to change her situation. Apathy at being sent away to marry. Maybe even gratitude at being sent away to marry and finally escaping her prison in the castle.

  But now it’s anger. It’s an unfamiliar feeling; an uncomfortable feeling. She wants to scream but can’t. She wants to hit out but can’t. Instead of coming to the troupe with her idea of a rebellion and giving them hope for a better future, instead of being the spark that starts the fire of change, she’s bundled up with a hood over her head. Subject to someone else’s whim. Again.

  The red ribbon around her wrist suddenly feels tighter. Dayle wouldn’t accept this. She would rally and fight. And win.

  A burst of furious energy fills her with the strength to wriggle, and struggle, and make carrying her awkward. She stiffens up completely, then lets her body turn to liquid, then does the same thing again and again, until she hears a huff of impatience. She’s stood on her feet, the hood ripped off her head, taking some of her hair with it.

  “Ow!” She rubs at her head, scowling. The man holding her is scowling too. She lifts off the ground ready to fly away, but he’s too quick. He grabs hold of her arm, fingers pinching into her skin.

  “Don’t even think about it. Hardy’s waiting for you.”

  “Who is Hardy? I object to being taken like this, manhandled like this. I-”

  The man pulls her close and shoves the hood over her head again. She punches out, blindly, and flies blindly, bumps into a tree, and collapses onto the ground. She pulls the hood off her head, crying, staring wretchedly at the man. “Who are you? Why have you taken me? I’m not important? I’m not rich. I’m-”

  “The princess.”

  He grins at her, a smug grin that makes her itch to punch him. She thinks of Dayle again, feeling itchy around people.

  “You’re lucky I’m not Dayle.”

  “Dayle? The pirate queen?” He looks confused.

  “Yes. She brought me off the ship and if she was still here, she’d... well, she’d... she’d...” Elsie trails off. It doesn’t matter what Dayle would do if she was here. She’s not. She’s on her own and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

  She stands up, holding onto the hood. “What does Hardy want with me? Who is he? Does he wish to hurt me?”

  The man shrugs. “I have no idea. I’m just the delivery man.”

  “How did he know I’d be here, or am I just a lucky catch for you?”

  “Oh, he knew. He knows everything that goes on in Allaire.”

  She scowls at him, feeling aggravated with him and this elusive Hardy who knows everything, even though it’s impossible that he could have known. She hasn’t known herself for that long that she would come back to Allaire. How could he know?

  “That’s ridiculous. I just got off the ship. I wasn’t meant to come back. How could he have known?”

  “That, my lovely, you must ask him yourself. Let’s go.”

  He reaches for the hood, and after a second of hesitation she hands it to him. This stand-off is doing neither of them any good. She will ask this Hardy how he knows she was back in Allaire, and what he wants with her, and she will try to channel Dayle while she does so.

  “Do I need the hood? I won’t put up a fight.”

  “Yup. Hardy’s headquarters is a secret.”

  Elsie rolls her eyes, but allows him to place the hood over her head. He’s a lot gentler this time, and she doesn’t put up even the tiniest fight.

  He’s gentler when he carries her too, not pinching her skin with his fingers, but holding her far more carefully.

  She cannot imagine how far they have flown or where in the Kingdom of Allaire they’ll end up, but when he sets her down, he does so carefully, and he takes the hood off her head taking no hair with it.

  They are standing outside the entrance to a cave, and Elsie frowns at him.

  “Top secret.” He nods and gestures for her to go in. She takes a deep breath and goes inside. He follows her in.

  The front part of the cave, for a few metres looks like a normal cave, wet and cold, dark and dank, but when they go around the corner the walls are dotted with lanterns, candles burning inside, and it’s easy enough to see the way. The floor is smooth, the path well worn, and they walk together; it’s high enough that neither has to stoop.

  Several paths lead off the main course through the cave, but he seems to know where he’s going, and Elsie dutifully goes along. The path isn’t steep, but they are heading downwards, and then after another turn the path opens out into an enormous cavern.

  There are fairies milling in every direction, lots of laughter and chatter, and Elsie can’t take it all in. In one direction there’s a gigantic table with four or five fairies flitting around it, swapping pieces of paper and scribbling furiously. Over to the left there are three fairies with weapons, examining them and practising with them. A little old fairy, the oldest she has ever seen, stoops over a huge vat of something that’s bubbling away and she’s adding ingredients from little jars that are lined up on the wall behind her. There’s a-

  “Here she is!”

  The man who brought her pushes her forward, breaking her reverie. She stumbles and a strong arm grabs hold of her and sets her right.

  She steps back, suddenly nervous. She knows she hasn’t been taken for a good reason. She’s sure it’s because of the things her step parents do. Will anyone here believe her if she says she didn’t know?

  She looks around. Everybody has stopped doing whatever they were doing, and they are all watching her; some with open hostility on their faces, others with interest, but not one of them has a friendly expression. Her stomach twists. She feels far more scared than she did when she came home to Allaire.

  Why did she come home? Some foolish sense of her own importance? Did she really think these fairies – abused and attacked by the royal family – would welcome her with open arms, hold her up as some symbol of change?

  She closes her eyes, feeling stupid and small and exposed in this enormous cave full of enemies. She has no choice but to face it, though. She cannot stand with her eyes closed for eternity, however much she might like to. She opens her eyes and finds the man who steadied her is staring at her intently, but not unkindly. He doesn’t look like he’ll murder her in the next few minutes, at least.

  “Princess Elsie?”

  She nod
s.

  “Come with me.”

  She has no choice but to go with him; he places a hand on her back and ushers her along. All eyes are on her and she can feel the anger from the people she passes. He reaches past her to push open a wooden door and then shuts the door behind them.

  They are alone.

  In a cosy room. It’s still a hollowed out cave, but there are rushes on the floor, and chairs and a table. There are lanterns and candles giving the place a gentle warmth.

  “Please sit.”

  “You’re being very polite for a kidnapper.” She wishes her voice sounded steadier; she can hear the trembling. She wishes she could demand to know what was going on. She doesn’t; she just sits quietly, twisting the red ribbon that Dayle left behind.

  He sits opposite her, and steeples his fingers together, looking at her over the top of his hands. He’s younger than she first thought. The beard he sports makes him appear older, but he has a boyish face.

  Then the silence goes on too long. He just stares at her, making her very uncomfortable. She cannot look at him, and she feels her cheeks get hotter and hotter, as she refuses to look up.

  “Look at me.”

  She closes her eyes and then reluctantly opens them and looks at him.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you, if Burt scared you when he took you. I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

  She touches her head, remembering her hair getting pulled out, the way he happily dug his fingers into her flesh, relishing the hurt. “He didn’t. Not really.” Maybe this bearded kidnapper would be glad to know he had hurt her; she won’t give him that satisfaction.

  “I’m glad. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “What is your intention?”

  He steeples his fingers again. Maybe he thinks it makes him look intelligent, calculating, she has no idea, but all she can focus on is his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t look mean. But then neither do her step parents. She wishes he would answer her and just get this – whatever this is – over with. If he wants to kill her, do it. If he wants to lock her up, do it. If he wants to march her around the villages letting people throw stones at her, do it.

  He just stares at her, endlessly and unnervingly, until she cannot stand it any longer.

  “Please, just tell me why I’m here.”

  He grins and stands up, holding a hand out to her, which she takes wordlessly. “Because, Elsie, I want to help you.”

  9

  “HELP ME?” HER VOICE comes out as a squeak, so she coughs and clears her throat, and tries again. “Help me?” She’s incredulous. She cannot help it. “You kidnap me, have that man Burt hurt me, drag me here against my will, frighten me half to death with your silent stare, and a cave full of fairies who all look like they want to hurt me, and then you tell me you want to help me? Why put a hood over my head and hurt me if all you want to do is help me?”

  He looks amused. “You said Burt didn’t hurt you.”

  “I lied.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “I was trying to be polite.”

  “Well, you can stop that right now. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

  He sits opposite her again, leaning forward, focusing all his attention on her. “Look Elsie, I have spies at the castle and pretty much everywhere in Allaire. I know how you’ve been treated. I know you had no idea what was going on. I also know you should be halfway to a new life across the seas, with a royal husband to boot. I know you came back. I had to ask myself why. Then I had Burt bring you here.” His gaze is intense. “We can work together.”

  She shakes her head. “I barely came back. I only told the people on the ship. How can you know what I was planning?”

  He laughs. “I had no idea at first, but I have spies everywhere. Spies at a tavern. Spies at the dock. Spies who work with Dayle and who fly very fast. I had word that you’d be flying into the West woods and I can move quickly when I need to.” He turns his back to her and flutters his wings. “It’s why I’ve still got these. Not that I came for you myself – too many clippers looking for me – but I sent Burt.”

  “So this entire operation is, what?”

  “A rebellion. Well, the start of a rebellion.” His eyes darken. “My father started this whole thing. Then the clippers found him. And when he fought back, they killed him. I vowed I would carry on and finish it.”

  “But what is the rebellion? A plan to kill my step parents?”

  “Maybe. Right now, we organise and assist. We get the younger children away from the villages and keep them safe underground in these caves. Their families visit them, but they don’t go out in case they get caught. We steal food for the families whose men cannot work because they’ve been clipped. We make cures to heal the pain and stop infection in the wounds made by clipping. If we find any clippers and we can, we kill them.”

  “That’s amazing. And you don’t want to hurt me?”

  He reaches over and takes her hand in his. “Absolutely not. I think you can help. I think you might inspire people.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. Maybe she wasn’t so foolish. “I want to help. It broke my heart when I found out what they were doing. Tell me what I can do.”

  “Yes! Thank you, Elsie. This could be the turning point for us. We’ve been behind the scenes for years, but we’re ready to do something big. Something to end this. Will you help us?”

  She nods and tears fill her eyes. This is exactly what she was hoping for. She knew there was no way she could come to Allaire and do anything other than get locked up again, if she was by herself; she knew she needed help – it’s what she was hoping Gwenna and the troupe would give her. But if these fairies will let her help, if she can be a part of what they are doing, then maybe she can face her step parents and feel proud of herself, instead of disgusted.

  He grips her shoulders and gives her an enthusiastic little shake and then opens the door and leads her back outside. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

  The relief Elsie feels facing the fairies in the cavern again, but this time without the fear and doubt is immense. The atmosphere has changed and instead of menace she sees fairies on a mission, filled with camaraderie and purpose. There’s still an underlying fizz of tension, but that makes sense – knowing they might be captured and clipped would make anybody on edge.

  “Do you all live down here?”

  “No. We live in the villages, but we hide down here a lot, and work down here. We have an idea by now of how the clippers work, so we try to stay one step ahead of them, emptying the villages before they come, and only leaving behind fairies they’ve already clipped.”

  “I bet that makes them furious.”

  He nods his head, a grin on his face. “They hate it.” Then he turns serious. “We do what we can, but it isn’t enough.”

  “Only stopping them will be enough. Do you have the manpower to storm the castle, or do they have more men?”

  “I’ve thought about it, but had sense talked into me by my better half.” He peers around, looking for her, but shrugs. “I’ll introduce you later. I’d love to do it – but they are heavily guarded and hardly go out. They have an immense army and more men besides.”

  She’s quiet. All of this work and effort because of the royal family. The royal family should love and protect their subjects, support and advise them. Be an advocate and want the best for them. It’s what her parents had been like.

  “I feel sick that it’s come to this. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Music to my ears. Come on.”

  She follows, hardly able to take in everything she can see around them. He points out little pockets of fairies and tells her what they are doing. “These guys are divvying up food. We have several fields hidden out beyond the edge of the last village; the clippers rarely come out that far. We’ve got huge fences blocking the fields, so hopefully they won’t notice them, even if they come out, but we farm it and bring the food for the fairies who are struggli
ng. Not much grows in Allaire now. We have so many injured and sick fairies that the land has gone the same way. They can’t tend to it like they used to.”

  He stops by the little old lady with the vat of something she’s brewing.

  “This is Calista. She’s our finest healing fairy.”

  Calista lifts her face up to peer at Elsie. Her eyes are bright, though her skin is grey. She doesn’t look very well.

  As though he’s read her thoughts, Hardy nods. “It takes a toll on her. She gives all that she has to save and heal fairies who’ve been clipped. Many don’t survive. The clippers aren’t careful, their weapons aren’t clean.”

  Calista smiles at Elsie, showing lots of gum and very few teeth.

  “I’m training up the next generation of healers. I’m not long for this world.”

  He hugs her and kisses the top of her head.

  “She’s a marvel.”

  Elsie smiles and follows Hardy along. Most of the fairies have gone back to whatever they were doing before, but she can feel somebody staring at her. The prickle on the back of her neck tells her it’s not a friendly stare. She looks around but can’t see anybody taking any notice of her.

  “These boys are the head of our secret army. If they see a clipper, the clipper dies.”

  The two men look up from their weapons, wipe their hands on their clothes and hold out their hands to shake hers. Elsie does so, shaking both of their hands and then shuffling awkwardly on her feet. They are burly and intimidating, and she feels unnerved. Knowing they are murderers – even if it’s a justified murder – is a little unsettling and yet when she looks at them, makes herself really look at them, she sees two handsome, young, friendly looking men. They both look strong, and the way they handle weapons with such ease says a lot, but they’re not monsters. They’ve been forced to take this position. If you back a dog into a corner, no matter how friendly it is, it will bite.

  Elsie isn’t sure what to say, so points at a group of fairies heading off down a path. “Where are they going?”