The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) (17 page)

“Excellent. Then all that remains is for you to hand over the item. Bran said something to me about a special necklace?”

“Yes.” I notice Councilor Starkweather tapping her shoe as I retrieve the necklace from my pocket; we’re obviously taking up too much of her time. “They called it an eternity necklace, and the Unseelie Prince said he’d never give it back to his mother because she doesn’t deserve to be immortal. So we’re assuming it grants immortality.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of this,” Councilor Starkweather says, taking it carefully, almost reverently. She holds it up to the light, and the teardrop shaped pendant of white stone gleams with a pearlescent sheen. “No one knows how it was made or who its creator was, but it has been in the possession of the Unseelie Court for many centuries.” She places it on her desk and looks at us. “I shall send it to the Seelie Queen immediately; she will be pleased to have it. That is all. You may leave now.”

Okay, that was abrupt.
Ryn and I turn toward the door and, in an uncharacteristic show of gentlemanliness, he opens it for me. “That was a little weird,” I whisper after he closes the door behind us.

“She’s lying,” he says quietly.

“About what?” We head down the corridor and away from the councilors’ offices.

“I’m not sure exactly, but she wasn’t being truthful. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s not planning to give that necklace to the Seelie Queen.”

“Ryn, you can’t possibly know whether she was lying or not.”

“Yes, I can. I’m good at reading people, remember? And you also got a weird vibe from her.”

“Yes, but I don’t know what that vibe means. And what can you do about it anyway?” We reach the main stairway and start walking down. “It’s out of our hands now, so we just have to trust that she’ll do whatever she’s supposed to do with it.”

*

Filigree is over his miniature pig phase. He’s also managed to eat through almost every jar of roasted nixles in the kitchen. Only the jar of green bugs remains; they’re clearly his least favorite color. And clearly I’ll have to go shopping this weekend.

I lean back in the kitchen chair and look through the notes I’ve made so far. I absently scratch Filigree—cat formed, curled up on my lap—behind the ears as I try to remember everything that happened during our assignment. I should probably check a few details with Ryn before I write up the entire thing in full.

Filigree stretches and jumps gracefully off my lap. I take advantage of my freedom by heading to one of the cupboards and fetching a teaspoon and a jar labeled
Chocolate and Ladyfair Blossom Sauce
. It’s supposed to be drizzled over desserts, but I prefer to eat it straight from the jar. I sit down, dip the spoon into the jar, and lick the chocolaty sweetness off it. This happens a number of times while I go through my notes again and mark all the places where I need to check facts with Ryn.

When I start to feel sick, I screw the lid back on, gather my papers, and run upstairs to find my boots. After spending several days barefoot in a torn dress, I’m enjoying wearing pants and boots again. And tops, obviously. Unlike Ryn, I prefer
not
to walk around topless. Before opening a doorway to the faerie paths, I glance quickly at my appearance in the mirror in my bedroom. Then I shake my head and turn around. Who cares what I look like? It’s just
Ryn
I’m going to see.

With a small bag slung over my shoulder, I hurry through the paths and exit in front of Ryn’s tree. I knock, then wait several minutes.

I knock again.

I’m about to pull out my amber to ask him where he is when the bark melts away. Zinnia stands in the open doorway, her eyes heavy and her skin creased.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Did I wake you?” It’s early evening still, but guardians keep strange hours sometimes.

“No, don’t worry, I was waking up anyway.” Zinnia smiles as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I assume you’re looking for Ryn?”

“Yes, is he here?”

“I’m afraid not, and I don’t know where he is or when he’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” I take a step back. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“Wait, Vi.” She tucks a few curls behind her ear. “I’m actually a little concerned about him. He arrived home this afternoon with his hair all ruffled, a bruise on his chin, and a bleeding lip. And it’s Sunday, so he had no training or assignments. He says everything’s fine, of course, but I’m still worried.”

“Oh.” I remember Ryn’s bruised eye from earlier this week. I probably shouldn’t tell Zinnia about that; it’ll only add to her anxiety. “Well, I’ll ask him about it. Maybe he’ll tell me.”

She nods and smiles, then wipes her hand across the space between us to close up the doorway. I shut my eyes, breathe deeply, and do something I haven’t done in years: I search for Ryn.

At first I’m not sure it will work—I’m not holding anything that belongs to Ryn—but I find him easily. I suppose it makes sense. We’ve spent a lot of time together recently, so there’s already some kind of connection between us. What I am surprised at is his location; I thought I was the only one who went there these days.

I step out of the faerie paths onto a wide branch. Colors loop and swirl lazily beneath the bark, brightening ever so slightly each time I take a step. A night creature—cat-like, with fiery orange wings—bares its teeth at me before slinking away. I walk carefully along the branch, stepping around the glow-bugs. I climb onto another branch, and then another. I’m close to the canopy now, and I can see the sky clearly through the leaves of the highest branches. Scattered stars twinkle between clouds lit up with early evening colors: soft blues, purples and greys.

It’s beautiful.

And it’s good to be home.

“I was wondering if you’d find me here,” a voice says nearby.

I leap lightly into the hollow created where the giant arms of the gargan tree meet. “Sorry to interrupt your alone time. I need to check a few things about our assignment.”

Ryn looks at me. “Is Violet Fairdale asking for my
help
?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say
that
.”

He pats the empty space on the blanket beside him, which I think means he’s inviting me to sit down. “It just so happens,” he says, “that I’m also supposed to be finishing off my report now.”

“Perfect.” I sit down opposite him and cross my legs. I pull my notes and some blank reed paper out of my bag, while Ryn does the same from a bag that was resting behind him.

“Did you bring a table to work on?” he asks.

“Well, no. I thought I was on my way to your house, not a tree.”

He removes a small block of wood from his bag and places it on the blanket between us. “Good thing one of us came prepared.” He writes something on the block with his stylus, then pulls his arm back as the block transforms rapidly into a low table. It’s pretty cool, I suppose, but my attention is caught instead by the scar I’ve just noticed around his wrist. A scar that matches my own.

“You’re supposed to be impressed by the table, V, not my arm,” he says, noticing my stare. “Although—” he flexes his muscles “—it is rather an impressive arm.”

“I was looking at your scar, idiot.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He holds his arm up and examines the narrow strip of skin that’s slightly paler than the rest of his arm. “Weird, isn’t it. I thought it was impossible for us to scar, but Flint said there’s something weird about the metal those bands are made of.”

“Yeah.” I continue staring for a few moments, then blink and look down at my pages. “Anyway, I didn’t know you still came up here.”

“Sometimes,” he says. “I avoided it for a few years after Reed’s death, but not anymore.”

“I brought Nate up here,” I say before stopping to think whether it’s a good idea to share that bit of information with Ryn.

“What?” His voice is low, but his eyes are narrowed and his eyebrows drawn together in anger. “You brought that traitorous halfling up here?”

Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut, Violet?
“I didn’t know he was a halfling, or that he was going to betray me.”

“So you brought a random human up here?”

I look down, no longer able to face him. “Look, this place is really special to me, and at the time I wanted to share it with—”

“It’s special to me too, V, and I don’t want to know that you brought some random guy up here to do—
whatever
with. This is
our
place, no one else’s. Do you think I brought any of my Underground flings up here? No. Because I have more respect for this place than that.”

“I’m sorry, okay!” I slam my fist down on the table as anger, guilt and regret erupt within me. I spread my hand flat as I take a deep, calming breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I wish I’d never shared this place with him. And for your information, there was no
whatever
.” My cheeks burn at the thought. I’m not actually sure what Ryn meant by ‘whatever’, but I can guess. “Now will you please stop shouting at me before this turns into another fight where we both wind up threatening to harm each other?”

He says nothing for several minutes, and when I raise my eyes I find him watching me. “That was actually an awesome fight,” he says quietly.

“It was.”

After a few more moments of awkwardness, he places his pages on the magically-erected table in front of him. “So what did you want to check with me?”

Seems the argument is over.

I begin to relax as Ryn and I discuss the details of our assignment and how best to report them. When I’m finished scribbling more notes, I turn to the blank sheets of reed paper and begin writing the report in full from the beginning. Silence fills the space between us as we both become absorbed in our work. It’s a comfortable silence, though. It kind of reminds me of the way we used to do our homework together in junior school.

And that’s when it hits me: Somehow, after spending years hating each other, we got our friendship back. I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but it happened. Ryn isn’t just the guy I used to know, or the guy I had to put up with during our final assignment. He’s someone I actually enjoy being around. Someone I can shout at and fight with and have everything go back to normal in just a few minutes.

I smile to myself and continue working.

I reach the part of the assignment where I was hanging helplessly from a ceiling and sit back with a groan. “I can’t believe how pathetic I was this past week.” I tap my stylus, currently in pen mode, against the table. “I feel like I lost some major points in the kick-butt department.”

Ryn looks up with a smile. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It wasn’t what I’d call pathetic. More . . . endearing, perhaps.”

“Endearing?” I look at him in disbelief. “Now who’s being pathetic?”

He puts his stylus down. “You’re going to hate me for saying this.”

“Then don’t.”

He leans forward with a grin. “It was nice to see a softer side of you.”

I pretend to gag. “Oh, you did
not
just say that about me. Why not insult me properly and call me
weak
?”

“Because it wasn’t weakness, V. It was—”

“Endearing. Right. I got it. Let’s never talk about it again.” With heat creeping up my neck toward my face, I pick up my stylus and continue writing. I work quickly until I have to start describing our journey through the human realm. That’s when I get bored and my mind starts wandering. It continues wandering while I finish writing the report, and by the time I reach the end, I have a question for Ryn. “Have either of your parents ever mentioned anyone named Angelica? A guardian they went to school with?”

Ryn rolls up his finished report. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“She’s Nate’s mother.”

“Halfling boy?” Ryn sets the scroll down on the table and leans back on his hands. “His mother was at the Guild with our parents? In the same year?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. So a person our parents trained with turns out to be the mother of one of your assignments, who you then end up dating.”