Well, I’d seen that firsthand now, and it was pretty horrible. A couple months ago, I wouldn’t have cared about the fate of exiled fey. If they disappeared from the world forever, good. Fewer faeries to torment me.
It was different now.
“I’m sorry,” Annwyl finally whispered, lowering her arms. “I let my guard down. I stopped trying to remember who Kenzie was, who you were, why we’re here. I’m so tired. I want to let go, to stop fighting this.” She sank onto the mattress and bowed her head, long chestnut-colored hair sliding forward to cover her face. “I just want to see Keirran one more time.”
I sat next to her, not touching, but letting her know I was there. “We’ll find him,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making empty promises. “Just hang on a little longer. And who knows? Maybe he’s found something to stop it.”
But Annwyl shuddered. “I hope not,” she murmured. “The price would be so high. And so dangerous. Cheating death, even if it’s not your own...” She shook her head. “Even our kind avoids making that type of bargain at all costs.” She shivered again. “We have to find him, Ethan. Stop him from whatever he’s planning to do. Before he promises something he can’t ever take back.”
“Yeah,” I rasped, standing up. “That’s why we’re here.” Grabbing my backpack, I set it on the bed and rifled through it to make sure I had everything I needed. Besides a change of clothes, my laptop and my toothbrush, I also brought a small canister of salt, several bottles of honey and my old leather journal containing all my research on the fey. Digging it out, I flipped it open to a blank page and scribbled: Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop—entrance to goblin market. Go in left door, turn widdershins 3 times, leave thru right door. I paused a moment, tapping my pen on the paper, then also wrote down: Dryads of City Park—3 oaks near edge of pond; be polite.
And under that: Who was the Oracle? What is the prophecy?
My pen wavered as the Oracle’s vision crept up again: me dead on the ground at Keirran’s feet. Keirran covered in blood but looking unharmed. And Annwyl’s comments about the fey’s price for cheating death cast a sudden, dark thought into my mind.
What if Keirran was the one to...
I shook my head, snapping the journal shut. No, I wouldn’t think about that. That vision could be anything. Even if it was true, what was I going to do? Leave? Refuse to help him and Annwyl? Abandon Keirran to whatever crazy, dangerous thing he might be doing out there? I couldn’t. He was family. I owed it to him, and Annwyl, and even Meghan, to help.
Stuffing the journal into the pack again, I turned to Annwyl, still sitting on the bed. “Come on,” I told her, making her look up in surprise. “I’m starving. Before I go looking for a market full of bloodthirsty goblins, I at least want breakfast.”
* * *
My phone didn’t ring all afternoon. Except one time at the coffee shop, when I got an irate call from Dad because I hadn’t let them know I made it to New Orleans. I debated whether or not to call Kenzie, but each time decided against it. She was probably still pissed at me. Besides, she was likely with her family now, touring the streets of New Orleans. She didn’t need me hanging around.
Still, I found myself gazing out the window of the small coffee shop, looking for a girl with blue streaks in her hair. Even now, hours away from walking into a street teeming with dangerous fey and forbidden items, I couldn’t stop thinking of her. I wondered if she would even want me around after this. I’d screwed this boyfriend thing up big-time, but if it meant keeping her safe, I would deal with the terrible wrath I knew was coming. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get past this. She might dump me, and the saddest thing was, that was probably for the best.
I brooded into my coffee. Across the table, Annwyl curled her fingers around a cup of tea, gazing blankly out the window. I peeked up at her and frowned. I didn’t like how the sunlight seemed to be shining right through her, making her almost transparent. On the tile floor, I could see the shadow of myself, hunched over my cup, but nothing in the seat across from me.
“Hey,” I said quietly, so as not to alert the people around us. “Annwyl. Talk to me.”
She blinked out of her trance. “Hmm?”
I had to keep her talking, keep her remembering, about anything. If she started Fading right here in the coffee shop, I’d look like a nutcase when I leaped up and started yelling at nothing. At worst, someone would call the cops. “Tell me something about yourself,” I said, and she gave me a puzzled look. “What did you do in the Summer Court?”
Her brow furrowed. It looked like recalling the past was difficult. “The Summer Court,” she began in a slow, halting voice. “I don’t...remember much now. Trees and sunlight. Music. I was happy there, I think.”
Her voice became wistful and very sad on the last sentence, and I switched tactics. “So, how did Keirran ever get you to talk to him?” I went on. “Didn’t he tell me you sicced a pack of undines on him when he was visiting Arcadia one day?”
“Undines,” Annwyl repeated. Suddenly, her eyes darkened, a shadow falling over her face as she stared into her cup. “I remember that day,” she murmured, sounding very unlike herself, solemn and grim, and choked with guilt. “Keirran was only trying to talk to me and...I almost had him drowned.”
“What happened?”
She fiddled with the edge of her cup, a very human gesture of embarrassment. “One afternoon, I was beside the river that separates Arcadia from the wyldwood when I looked up and saw him on the other bank. I knew he was there for me—he’d been trying to get me alone ever since that night at Elysium when I danced for the court. Back then, I was afraid of him. He was the son of the Iron Queen, and there were all sorts of rumors about the horrible things he did to regular fey. So when I saw him at the river that day, I didn’t know what he wanted, and I think I panicked a little.” Annwyl winced. “I asked the undines to stop him from crossing to the other side. He was walking over the bridge, and they just...yanked him right in.”