The circle wobbles. It has to hold. I grab the tie, try to steady it.
The wind blows Issie’s hair. Her eyes are all terror. She can see it now, obviously. “Zara, back up.”
Then the king strides out. The wind lifts his hair. He glares at us, at his pixies. He knows what we’ve done. He raises his arms. The chanting becomes louder, evolves into war cries, wild and frenzied, but the pixies themselves are still moving slowly, judging us and the situation, waiting for orders, I think.
“Can you see him?” I ask Nick, as Devyn lands on his outstretched arm. The talons rest on a special glove so they won’t cut through the skin.
Nick growls.
Gram says, “They’ve dropped the glamour. I see them.”
“Don’t change,” I say. “Okay?”
She nods.
The pixie king makes eye contact with Gram. In less than a second he is standing in front of her. He is taller than she is. His eyes have gone silver. Only barbed wire and railroad ties separate them.
“Tiger?” His face shakes with anger. “You . . . you did this.”
Gram laughs at him. She laughs at the pixie king like he’s nothing. “Naw, I didn’t think this up. Your daughter did.”
He turns toward me. Zip-flashes in front of me. His eyes are all silver and liquid like the iron we’ve surrounded him with. “You’ve trapped us.”
The white thread that’s been around my finger since my dad died breaks off and flits in the wind. It crosses the iron bars and he catches it in his hand. He pinches the thread between his fingers, stares at it.
Mrs. Nix’s bear form swats a pixie man out of the way. She strolls the inner boundary, growling, creating a diversion.
“Your highness!” one of the pixie women says. Her voice panics in the wind.
“Do not approach the bear,” he orders. “Only in groups of five. Surround it.”
Mrs. Nix stands on her hind legs. Devyn flies to the roof, a wire hanging from his beak. He attaches it to the chimney. A pixie dangles out a second-story window, trying to snatch him. He misses Devyn and roars.
“The queen, your highness!” the same pixie woman yells.
The king breaks his glare for the tiniest fraction of a second and looks to see what is going on off to his side. This is where my mother is. I know he sees her about to cross the wire circle. I know, but he doesn’t do anything. That’s when I realize how trapped he really is, trapped by his nature and his role, trapped by his need. Still, he’s making a choice, a kind choice.
“Your highness!” the pixie repeats. Her blond hair flies wildly in the wind.
He ignores her, just stares straight into my eyes as Issie helps my mother across the barbed wire. Mrs. Nix leaps after her, back to us, back where it’s safer.
Nick thumps his tail against the ground. He and Mrs. Nix guard her, using their bodies as an extra layer of protection.
“You trapped my mother,” I say. “I had to get her free.”
The king stares at me. I stare back. The coldness of him is immense. Nick comes and presses against my side. I stare at my prisoners. I don’t know if this is right or not. I don’t know if Amnesty International would approve, or if my dad would approve, but it’s all I can think to do.
Another pixie leaps forward, arms open, trying to capture my mother. His tuxedo hits the iron wires first. Then he starts to burn. Three other shrieking pixies pull him back. I grab the tie again, trying to stabilize it from the wiggling.
Nick growls.
The king finally, publicly, notices that my mother is out, free, walking next to Issie, coming closer to me.
He roars, “What have you done?”
I don’t answer. My heart beats crazy happy just to see her get across the iron. She’s not burned. She’s still human.
“Zara.” His voice is measured. “I need her to maintain control.”
“You don’t need to be in control. You’re all trapped. So there’ll be no more stealing boys, no more shooting arrows in the woods, getting people lost. It’s all over.” The metal is cold on my fingers.
Devyn grabs more wire, starts another flight. A group of pixies leaps for him, screaming, a wild, chaotic mess. They start clawing at each other, lost in fear and hunger, angry. A pixie in a pink dress shrieks when another wearing a black gown lashes at her, slashing through the skin on her arm.
“Zara?” The king tries to be calm and nice. He tries to look human. It doesn’t work. “Do you know what this means? Do you know the power that I’ll lose? The need? We will fight in here. We will kill each other.”
“I know,” I say and my voice shakes as I stare at him, this man who is in my blood, but not me. He is not me. Still, I understand his need, his fear. He is stuck in this awful place where there is no moral way to move forward. “I’m so sorry.”
And I am.
I let go of the tie. I turn my back.
He rushes at me. The moment he moves my mother screams, lunging forward. She can’t help. She’s too far away. His hands curl around my arms and he pulls me closer to him. His hands and arms are burned and blistered from going over the iron. He’s still strong, though. My broken arm jostles. My teeth clench. The pain is crazy. Snarls come from my right and left.
“Stay back, Mom.” I yank a fork out of my pocket and jab it into the king’s leg. He screams and loses his grip, toppling backward.
“Get in there,” I demand.
He glares at me. Steam comes from his burning skin.
My mother stands next to me. She’s holding a bread knife. “She means it.”
He stands up and moves back. His face flinches. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would do anything for my daughter.” She says. Her hand doesn’t even shake.
“In the house,” I order. “All of you. Now.”
They turn and move like ants, streaming back into their nest. He is the last one to go inside. He waits.
I offer him this, “If I can think of something else to do, I’ll come back. I promise.”
His head barely moves. His voice is a whisper in the cold, bitter wind, but I can still hear it. “Are your promises like your mother’s?”
“No,” I say. “My promises are like mine.”
My mother wraps her arm around my waist. She kisses the side of my head. I’m not sure which of us is trembling more. She doesn’t say anything as he shuts the door.