Flicker (58 page)

The dryad’s hand moved closer to her mouth and Lee was seized by panic. She sat bolt upright and kicked Byrony in the shin as hard as she could. As Byrony cried out and stumbled, Lee sliced through the vine holding her ankle and jumped to her feet.

Backing away, Lee listened to the crowd. They were cheering now, she realized, and even laughing. When Byrony whirled toward Lee, her face dark with anger, Lee raised the knife without thinking, her heart hammering painfully.

“Maybe not so quick,” Lee panted, as loudly as she could. She was beginning to understand that this was not a private battle—they were playing for an audience. If she defeated Byrony, but the Court was unhappy with her performance, her fate might well be worse than if she’d lost. But if they liked her, she thought hopefully, if she could keep them entertained, she might walk out of here. They might all walk out of here.

“Would you use it, girl?” Byrony scoffed, stepping forward.

“Want to find out?”

Without warning, Byrony rushed forward, her wings spread out behind her, making her appear larger. Lee turned and dashed the other way. She skidded to a halt just before she reached the ring of mushrooms, but didn’t stop in time. Her heart leapt into her throat when she thought she would topple out of the ring—thus breaking one of Feronia’s rules—but her momentary fear turned into surprise as she slammed into some kind of invisible barrier and bounced off.

Lee whirled around and pressed herself against the invisible wall. So
that
was how Feronia ensured that combatants remained in the dueling area. It occurred to Lee that she was trapped i
n here,
and that no
person or magic
could enter to help her,
but she forced the thought down.

She looked up
,
and Byrony was right in front of her. Lee raised the knife again, but Byrony seized her wrist and twisted her arm savagely. There was more strength in the dryad’s slender limbs than Lee had realized: She felt something crack and cried out
, dropping the knife,
a
s pain exploded in her forearm.

Kicking the knife aside, Byrony grabbed Lee’s shoulders and
hurled
her to the ground. In response, Lee wrapped one hand around Byrony’s calf and
yanked
her leg out from under her. Then she threw herself onto the dryad, trying to pin her to the ground using
just
her weight and knees. Her injured arm
throbbed with pain,
already swell
ing where she’d felt the crack. It must’ve been broken
. Her good arm was digging through her pocket.

Beneath her, Byrony squirmed and struggled, grimacing at the pain in her wings, which lay crushed beneath their combined weights.
She was trying to get up
, and wore an expression of surprise when Lee scrambled backward. As the dryad rose, Lee flung a handful of salt
in
her face.

Noise rose up from the crowd as Byrony shrieked and drew back, clawing at her own face: a blend of delig
hted jeering and sympathetic—though
still entertained—groaning.

When Byrony managed to peel her eyes open, the whites of them had turned an irritated red; her eyelids were puffy. She squinted furiously at Lee, her face flushed and scratched. The dryad was breathing heavily now, and for a moment, Lee thought that she actually might be able to outlast Byrony. After all, Feronia said they would fight until one was unable to continue. If
Lee
could just wear her down a little more, then maybe
…

And then the ground seemed to explode.

The grass, which had been knee-high, now towered over Lee’s head. The flowers and clover that had dotted the ground had grown to monstrous sizes. Suddenly disoriented, Lee spun right and left, then started walking, pushing her way through the thick blades of grass, which pressed in on her from all sides. She tried to keep along the edge of the ring, but navigating was nearly impossible. Sometimes would take a step and bump into one of the thorn-covered vines; they were hard as rock, she discovered, like steel spikes.

Outside the ring, the shouts and cheers of the crowd were deafening. She strained her ears for any familiar voices—maybe Alice or the boys were calling to her—but the hooting and yelling and clapping all blended into one huge cacophony that made it difficult to focus.

Something moved in the grass nearby. Lee froze, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, but nothing happened. Just as she started to walk again, the rustling came again, louder this time. Suddenly, all around her, the grass was shifting and rustling as if it were filled with sinister animals. Lee swallowed, but her panic wouldn’t go down.

She searched her pockets, but all that was left was the Block. She squinted at the rune carved into it: fire.

Lee cursed her luck under her breath. She’d never used a Block, and hardly knew how. And that fire rune made her shiver
as she remembered Jason’s burn scars
. But there was nothing else she could do.

As Lee crouched, gripping the Block as tightly as she could, she became acutely aware of her own inexperience, her ignorance of the many ways of magic. Her breathing quickened. Her insides were hot and shaking. Slowly Lee squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm herself.

An image surfaced in her mind: green fire blossoming from her hands, spreading, burning the grass and clover to ashes but leaving everything else untouched. She focused energy into her palms and, from there, into the Block. Magic welled up inside of her like green water. She kept pushing it into the Block. The bones in her wrists and hands began to ache; she felt like a faucet, water rushing through her hollow body. When her mental image was perfect and the Block was filled with as much of her energy as she thought it would hold, she exhaled and let it go.

There was a great rush of air and heat. Lee’s eyes flew open.

In her hands, the Block had burst into bright green flames—but they didn’t burn her, just produced a strange tingling warmth as the fire grew and spilled onto the ground. It caught on the grass and devoured it, spreading. Suddenly the noise of the crowd became dull; her ears were filled with the roar of the fire as it swirled around her like a great wind.

And then the grass had all been burned away, and she was surrounded by heaps of fine ashes. The spike-like vines were intact; only the grass had been affected. She felt sick and weak, like all the strength had been drained from her body along with her magic.

Another cheer rose up from the crowd, so loud that the air
vibrated
. The invisible barrier shook as the gathered fey
thumped
it to show their excitement. Lee rose shakily
and scanned
the crowd for her friends, but she couldn’t find them. Then she was seized from behind.

“A good trick,” Byrony panted into Lee’s ear. “But not good enough.”

Byrony reached around and grabbed Lee’s injured forearm, squeezing it tightly. Lee howled and her knees buckled. She reached into her pocket for more salt, which she hurle
d backward. The dryad released her grip
, and Lee pitched forward, then turned. Hot tears of pain burned her eyes. She went for her pocket again, only to discover that the little bag was empty—she’d used up all the salt.

But B
yrony didn’t have to know that.

Lee withdrew her fist from her pocket and raised it as though it were filled with salt. She advanced on Byrony, one step at a time, and Byrony, her ey
es still red and swollen
, retreated. Lee could tell by the way she was clenching and unclenching her fists and glancing around that the dryad was trying to summon more plants. But Lee’s magical fire seemed to have made that impossible, at least for now. There was nothing to summon.

Taking courage from this, Lee strode faster, her fist still raised. Byrony eyed it as if it were a hammer or a large knife: threatening, dangerous. She backed up faster.

“Was it
even
worth it?” Lee asked her. “All of this? All the pain?”

“
He
is worth it,” Byrony replied, and Lee didn’t miss how her gaze moved toward the raised platform, the thrones, even as she hurried backward. From her high seat, Feronia frowned and narrowed her eyes. “He is worth this entire world and every other. I would do this a thousand times over if it would win his love.”

Lee grimaced. A strange anger flared in her. “But you
had
it! Even if you didn’t deserve it. And then you just threw it away for—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Byrony stumbled over one of her own vines
, her face a mask of alarm. As if in slow-motion, Lee watched her fall backward, unable to regain her balance—and land squarely atop one of the thorn-studded vines jutting up from the earth.

About three inches of vine protruded from Byrony’s abdomen, slick with dark blood. Her face was pale and shocked; she opened her mouth, maybe to speak, but all that came out was a terrible scarlet bubble of blood. Her arms and
legs moved feebly, as if she were
trying t
o lift herself off the vine, before
her whole body went limp.

For a long moment, the crowd fell eerily silent. Then Umbriel jumped to his feet. In a moment, Fer
onia was standing too, one
slender hand on his arm.

“The duel,” she called, “is finished. The human girl is the victor.”

The crowd erupted. Lee couldn’t tell if they were cheering or just yelling. She really didn’t care. Her gaze was riveted on Byrony’s body—pale and horrible and dead. Her whole body was shaking and she sank to her knees.

The pounding on the barrier ceased abruptly: Lee noticed this only because a flood of faeries was rushing over the mushroom ring, as if the barrier had disappeared the moment the duel was called off. Suddenly faeries were all around her, pulling her to her feet, tugging at her clothes and hair, hooting with delight. Even more were gathering around Byrony’s body.

On the platform, Umbriel was red-faced and yelling, struggling to make his way through the crowd now thronging the dueling area. Carrick and several other knights were clustered around him, shoving faeries roughly out of Umbriel’s way.

Even Feronia was yelling now, Lee noticed, pointing this way and that. Her knights
dashed
around, circling the crowd and elbowing through it, honing in on Byrony.

“Don’t touch her!” a voice thundered. “Back the hell off!”

Lee turned, and there they were: Nasser, Filo and the others, their hands still bound, yet unaccompanied by any knights, rushing through the crowd toward her. Filo shouldered several faeries out of his way, cussing beautifully.

They met somewhere in the middle. Everyone was talking at once.

“I don’t know what happened,”
Lee
heard herself say
, her voice cracking
. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what happened
…
”

“It’s all right,” Nasser soothed, cupping her face in his hands, but it wasn’t, and they both knew it. “Lee, it’ll be all right now.”

Knights appeared out of nowhere, surrounding them. They were led away at the points of swords.

* * *

“That arm looks pretty bad,” Nasser said quietly.
For some reason, they
had
all
been
herded
in
to
Feronia’s personal chambers, which
looked
like a miniature version of the nobles’ area of the revel. It was marked off by s
everal layers of spider web
curtains and fille
d with low-lying couches
. A canopy of oak trees served as a roof; shafts of golden sunlight filtered through it, dancing across the surface of a small, clear pond.

“Yeah,” Lee agreed, her voice tight. She’d been trying not to look at her arm: It was swollen and inc
redibly painful. Seeing it
made her squirm.

“I could give you something for
the pain, if I had my bag,
”
Nasser fretted.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him
, gritting her teeth
. “I’ll live.”

Filo snorted. “Who would’ve guessed
?”

“I told you she was scrappy,” Alice reminded him, leaning her head against his shoulder
.
He slid one arm around her.

Smiling a little, Filo muttered, “For a normal, anyway.”

The curtains parted, and Feronia swept in, making everyone straighten. She was breathtaking in her gold and white gown. Her hair seemed to float around her face, and her flora
l circlet gave off a slight, pulsing glow
.

Feronia lowered herself onto a cushion and crossed her legs regally.

“You gave us a good show, girl,” Feronia said. “A commendable effort. It seems a shame that the whole time you were among us, Umbriel squandered your talents on mere painting.”