Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

I blinked, still slightly dazed by the spell of her voice. “They’re not both my lovers. I mean, neither are my lovers. I mean—” Her song slowly ceased to be magic and began instead to form meaning in my head. “Do you mean they’re not dead?”

Una shrugged and leapt away from me, long ballet-leaps over the bracken, and then turned back, bowing as if she’d done something very impressive. “Not yet!”

I could breathe again. In some way, I felt like I hadn’t filled my lungs since I’d seen Luke’s phone and the drops of blood. Now, for the first time in many minutes, I took a deep breath and let it out. Inside me, a little voice sang, they’re alive, they’re alive.

“She has them, then. The Queen, I mean.”

Una danced over to me, slow and prancing, and stopped a bare inch in front of me. Her fingers stretched out and hovered over my iron key, closer, closer, until they were as close as they could get without touching it. She leaned forward and spoke into my ear, so near that her face touched my hair; her voice was balanced between glee and seriousness. “Solstice draws near; see how strong we grow? Soon the Hunter will be able to touch you himself; soon Aodhan, foulest of the foul, will be able to defile you as he defiles everything his fingers reach. They could take your songs and keep them so deep inside themselves you’d never know you lost them. They will play with you until you smile and welcome Death into you.”

I froze, profoundly aware of how dangerous she was, this wild, inhuman creature who was close enough to see the dried tears on my cheeks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lips curl into a beautiful smile, and she whispered, “Now would be a wonderful time to ask for that favor I promised you. For your tear.”

She drew back, leaving me quivering from her strangeness, and studied me—standing there with my chin raised up in something like courage.

I looked back at those depthless green eyes, trying to read any sort of emotion in them, any clues as to a right answer, but saw nothing but deeper and deeper. So I nodded and said, as if it had been my idea, “I’ll take that favor now, please.”

“I thought,” Una drew a circle in front of her with a finger, “you’d never ask.”

She beckoned me, and I edged closer, warily.

“You humans like humans, right?”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that.

She drew the circle again, and this time it seemed to stay there after her finger had dropped. “Do you see him?”

I looked at the glowing edge of the circle, but all I saw within it was the gnarled oak tree on the other side. “No?”

Una made an exasperated noise. “Try using your eyes.” She drew the circle again, and this time the glow of the edge made me blink in pain; it was like the searing light of the sun, and it shimmered in a way that was wrong, that bent the edges of the forest within and the forest without.

And this time, I did see him. It was a man in his late thirties or early forties, his head covered in long, loose brown curls, reading a book in the middle of field. “Who is it?”

“Thomas Rhymer. One of Hers. A human. A man. Shall I get more specific?”

“I think that covers it.” I hoped she was going to explain the significance of the bouncy-haired man, because I had no idea how showing me a strange man reading a book was supposed to count as a favor.

“Look how human he is,” Una mused as the man turned a page. I wasn’t sure if this was a commentary on his appearance or on his page-turning ability. “I think you ought to have a little chat with him.”

“Where is he?”

“There.”

I once again fought against the desire to bitch-slap a faerie, and rephrased. “How do I get to there?” I hoped to God she didn’t say “walk,” because I really didn’t think I’d be able to stop my fist if she did.

“I forget how stupid you all are,” Una said brightly. She tugged the edge of the circle larger, so I could see that the man sat in the middle of the cow pasture near my house, the one where I’d seen the white rabbit. Then she popped her finger into her mouth as if the glow had burnt her, and turned to me. “Truly, the magnanimous nature of my favor surprises even me.”

Uh. “Thank you,” I said.

She spit through the circle and it vanished like smoke. “And here’s another suggestion, for nothing. Gratis. Drown the hound of the Hunter’s you’ve been keeping. You’ll have to hold it under for quite a few minutes.” She made a motion as if she were holding one of her hands under water. “Until the bubbles stop.”

I blinked at her.

She seemed oblivious to my horror, and instead said kindly, with obvious effort, “Would you like your tear back? You’ll need it.”

“No thanks. I think it looks better on you.”

Una grinned at me.

Sara was so clueless trying to get us home that she finally pulled over and let me drive instead. Even though I rarely get to practice driving, I was much better at finding our way back down the back roads. I was almost giddy. Being stolen away by the Faerie Queen and tortured was bad, but it was so much better than being dead. Dead was irreversible. Suddenly I was noticing details that I had missed before: just how gorgeous the day was, how loud the cicadas were, how the leaves of the trees were flipping up to reveal their pale undersides, promising a storm later on despite the brilliant blue sky. With my change of mood, I saw something on the way back that I hadn’t noticed before: Luke’s car.

I slammed on the brakes.

Sara screamed. “Holy crap! What are you doing?”

I backed her car up to the little dirt road where I’d seen Luke’s car.

“Sorry. I saw something. I’m just going to check it out, okay? Just—two seconds.”

She squinted out the windows and then reached into the back seat for a magazine. Apparently, she thought that my “two seconds” meant the same as hers. I left her reading and made my way over to where Luke’s car sat, pulled back into the mouth of an overgrown dirt road that was used to access the cornfield behind it. The angle of the car implied a certain haste, and in my head I imagined that Luke had somehow come riding to James’ rescue, pulling him from the car where James was pinned. It was a much better image than a bloodied James dragging himself out of his Pontiac onto the asphalt.

The Audi was unlocked, and though I felt a little foolish, I climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me. Leaning back in Luke’s seat, I closed my eyes and let his smell trick me into thinking he was there in the car with me. Even though I’d only seen him the night before, I missed him unimaginably; the part of me that was in him felt as if it were a million miles away, in a place too distant to ever visit. When I was with him I felt loved, wanted, protected; now I felt like a little boat adrift in a strange dark sea.