25. A Lesson in Biology

The sun is quickly dropping in the evening sky when the carriage rattles to a halt in front of Gerald and Mathilda's farm.

"We're not too late. Thank the Mother!" Cece shouts before she climbs out and runs toward the crooked farmhouse.

Firenze's white mane blows in the breeze, his bridle attached to the wooden fence next to the stable. The once proud horse is merely a shadow of his old self. His defined ribs are visible in the distance, and his head is hunched in capitulation.

The crisp autumn air makes me grateful for the thick wool overcoat Esme forced me into. I tighten the collar around my neck as we walk to the pasture, half-frozen mud crunching under my boots.

Gerald and Cece catch up to us a moment later.

"By our Mother's grace…I was just about to put him down. Mathilda couldn't stand the sight of it…" Gerald's gaze falls upon me, his hat crumpled in his tight grip. "Are you sure it's wise for ye to be here, princess? Yer father said you were too sick to travel?—"

I pick up the pace, anger threatening to pierce my royal exterior. "Don't worry about me. I've never been better."

"Alright, then." He secures his hat back upon his head at my resolve, and we all hurry to the sick horse.

"Oh, poor Firenze…" Cece says, her voice strangled.

"Don't worry, Cece. He'll feel better in a minute." I climb over the fence, wishing I wasn't wearing such a big dress, the thick skirts slowing me down.

Firenze's ears turn toward me with interest, and I raise my hand to his muzzle. "Hey, you. Don't worry, I'm here now."

Willing myself not to notice the fetid smell coming from his front limb, I press my hand to it and jolt backwards, startled by the feel of it. It's colder than I expected, and stiff as stone. Firenze barely holds his weight upon it, his other leg trembling at the effort.

Closing my eyes, I draw magic from the mud, the earth, the fence and the prickly hay. I summon it from the wood of the barn and the warmth of the sun itself, from Gerald and Cece and Esme… I draw magic from everything in sight, and feel emptier still.

The wound remains as deadly as it was, so I try again, without success.

"What's going on?" Cece asks, but I shush her.

"Give me a minute."

I try again. And again.

My fingertips blacken, and ice runs thick in my veins, but I continue to try until I'm covered in sweat. To no avail.

Finally, I search the pasture and muddy fields as though I might summon One to my side by just thinking about him. The mirror in the basement of the summer house comes to mind.

"I could ask for help—" I whisper.

Esme squeezes my shoulder, and her sudden proximity sends my heart into a frenzy. "You can't heal what is already dead, darling. No one can. Not even the most powerful Fa—of our Mother's disciples."

No. I'm here. I made it in time. There must be something?—

I give it my all in one last attempt. My belly cramps, my hands cold and clammy like I'm running a bad fever, and my whole body starts to shake. Dark lines creep up my hands like poison ivy slithering up my arms, the shadow magic taking more than it gives as I stretch it to its breaking point.

Esme clears her throat. "Enough, Miss Penny. You will exhaust yourself." The warning is thick in her voice.

I'll soon be engulfed in darkness and alert everyone to the true nature of my powers. I wouldn't mind it if I thought it could save Firenze, but I can feel the magic threatening to freeze me to the core without giving much in return.

Firenze nuzzles my side weakly, as though asking what's going on… The joy at making it here on time crashes and burns into a volcano of dread in my chest.

"Nell?" Cece squeaks.

The terrible truth falls like a blanket of snow over my well-crafted denial. "I can't heal him… It's too late."

Cece flattens her palm to her mouth and croaks, "No."

The white stallion neighs softly, and my heart breaks at the familiarity and gentleness of the sound.

"If only we'd come sooner," I add, full of regrets.

Gerald nods with his lips pursed in a sad, resigned frown. "It's not your fault, princess. I've been delaying the inevitable, hoping your miracle could save the poor boy again, but he's suffered enough." He pats down his horse's neck. "Here ye go. Good horse. Ye'll be alright now."

The old farmer is no doubt used to these kinds of things, but Firenze is his favorite horse, and so his voice is not quite as steady as I'm sure he wishes it to be.

Firenze lets out a heavy breath, and I bury my face in his mane, my arms wrapped around his neck. The smell of him is like summer and sunshine… Grass and the carefree joy of a child in a prairie, being taught to gallop for the first time.

Cece does the same on the other side, crying in earnest. We stay there in stunned despair for a minute, holding him tightly.

"Do you wish to leave, Your Highnesses?" Gerald asks, signaling that the moment has come. The disappointment written in the bend of his brows is so thick, I can't bear the thought that I gave this poor man false hope.

Cece clutches Firenze harder. "No, we want to stay until the end," she declares with a determination that will not be denied.

"Come and stand behind me then. The both of ye." The click of his pistol turns my stomach.

Esme looks at Firenze with her brows lifted and a weirdly upbeat smile. "Biology is a marvelous thing. In the face of infection, the body separates itself from the threat by cutting the blood flow to the limb."

I resent the obvious awe in her voice, but Gerald doesn't appear to be insulted by her macabre musings. "Yes, quite marvelous indeed. Too bad horses can't live with only three legs," he says.

Cece shakes her head in disbelief. "What a witch."

The old farmer tips his hat once more, saying goodnight to his horse for the last time, and I can't help but screw my lids shut at the squeeze of the trigger.

The death of the beloved animal is agony.

The wheeze of Firenze's last breath tramples my last defences, the gaping hole in his forehead oozing dark, burgundy blood. The light leaves his eyes, but his lids remain open.

Under the blue, cloud-streaked sky, Firenze's dead eyes are as big as the moon.

Staring at me. Staring at my incompetence.

Tears roll down my cheeks, hot and prickly. Few things make grown men cry, but this is one of them, and the strangled sob Gerald fails to swallow echoes deeper in my soul than if he'd screamed.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Gerald." I squeeze his hand, even though I shouldn't. Royals aren't supposed to touch commoners.

He clears his throat, taken aback by the gesture. "No need to worry, princess. An old man like me's been through worse."

The carriage ride home is filled with stories of the great horse, Cece eager to tell us about the time he lost a shoe in the river, while I recall the time I dyed his mane pink.

"Father was livid, of course. His proud stallion, full of pink braids right before church…" I explain between sobs, my eyes itchy from all the crying.

Cece cracks up, her laugh interrupted by an inopportune sneeze. "He was the best horse."

Esme wraps her up in a hug. "There will be other horses, kid."

"But none as good as him."

"None as good, of course." She kisses the top of Cece's head. "But maybe…half as good?"

Cece grins through a sob and nods. "Yes. Maybe half as good."

I stare out the carriage window with a slightly lighter heart, still feeling like I haven't done enough. I could have at least tried to contact One or Lori or Baka. If I was more powerful, I might have been able to heal him.

If I could communicate with Cece while I'm in Faerie, I might have learned of Firenze's illness sooner, and he'd still be with us.

Father is gone when we return. His minister tells us that pressing matters needed his attention at our borders with the neighboring country, Danu. While I'm sure he won't forget my insubordination, I have a little time to grieve in peace.

The next couple of weeks,I stay home while Cece enjoys her first autumn out in society. My reputation is still in shambles, and my morale is not high enough to endure the unrelenting gossip.

I find myself removed from the mere thought of climbing back into Lundan's elite good graces. Instead, I run at night, and spend the days reading through my empty schedule with an emptier heart.

Esme joins me late in the library one evening and reads out loud from my mother's diary. "Whenever an unmarried woman finds herself in the middle of a scandal, the only sensible thing for her to do is to remove herself from the situation entirely. Assuming the scandal is not big enough to destroy her reputation, merely hinder it, she can hope for a fresh start in late winter. By then, boredom has settled deep enough in her peers for her to be a novelty again—and her faults merely welcomed entertainment."

It's intended to be a pep talk, the clever Fae using my dead mother's wisdom to pacify me and encourage patience, but I feel numb.

"Did she write anything on the subject of being fed to the wolves for no good reason?" I crack.

Esme's lips quirk in the shadow of a smile as she ignores my cheeky comment and continues to read. "When that time comes, a woman must be very careful. While second chances are viewed as honorable, thirds would just be vulgar."

She fails to hide a snicker, and I raise my brows. "Do you really believe in all of this?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you miss Faerie? I mean—people here treat you differently. I've read about droughts, and most of them choose to stay in the new world. Why choose Demeter?"

"I wasn't just condemned to exile, Miss Penny. I was to be slaughtered." She closes the diary and bites her bottom lip.

I stiffen in my chair, suddenly worried—and immensely curious. "Why?"

"Because I knew one too many secrets." She lowers her voice even more. "What if I told you there was a way we could stay in contact while you're over there? There's a basic Fae trick I could teach you…"

Eyes wide, I consider her serious face with a tinge of excitement. "I was thinking the same thing. I need a way to communicate with you and Cece in case something happens."

She gives me a sharp nod, a sense of understanding and urgency pulsing in the air between us. "Pull off your sock."

She pulls two sewing pins from her bag. "I'll sterilize them first, so there's no risk of infection." She holds the two pins to a nearby candle until the metal end glows red. After it's done, she blows on them to cool them down and pricks her finger with one. "First, we both sink the end of our pin into our fingers and coat it with blood."

I follow her instructions, and once the pins are coated in red, we exchange them.

Esme shows off her naked ankle and points to the slight concave depression below the bone. "We push it here, right to the bone." She presses her lips together to hide a wince as she sinks the pin inside her flesh, the small, pearly black head sticking out.

I grit my teeth together and do the same.

"It's not fancy magic by any means, but if I pull on mine, you'll feel it." She wiggles the head of the pin, and a somewhat unpleasant but tame sensation tickles my calf.

I nod, thrilled to have a way to stay connected to her and Cece, however small or primitive it is.

She opens her mouth to continue her explanation, but Cece enters the room. My sister's long nightgown licks the floor with a soft swish as she walks over to us. "Don't stop on my account."

Esme quickly pulls her sock up her leg and stands to put the diary back on the shelf. "I was heading to bed, actually."

"Why did Father go to Danu so suddenly?" Cece asks. "Isn't it already winter over there?"

Esme's cheek ticks in response. "I don't know." If she wasn't Fae, I'd call horseshit on that answer, but the weird look on her face quickly melts away, and she takes her leave. "Don't stay up too late, girls."

The fire casts mesmerizing shadows on the wall as Cece sits next to me on the chaise lounge. "Something's not right. I feel it here." She rests a hand over her heart, and her blue eyes glaze with sorrow the way they used to after our mother died.

"You're bleeding," I say.

The tip of her index finger shows a drop of blood, but she licks it off with a shrug. "Oh, it's nothing. I just pricked myself with something, earlier." Her hazelnut eyes bore into me. "When do you have to go back?"

I avert my gaze, afraid to face her disappointment. "Tomorrow."

"So every fourteen days…"

"Yes." I hesitate. "You haven't asked a lot of questions about Faerie." I expected her to harass me the last two weeks, and yet she didn't.

She shifts closer and reaches for my hand. "It's not that I'm not curious."

"Really? You're not afraid of me now, are you? Are you angry that I couldn't heal Firenze?" I ask.

"Oh Nell… I'd never! I just—I figured you're probably not allowed to share everything with me anymore." A bright red blush colors her cheeks. "Esme said something about your trips to Faerie being private, and that I should be discreet."

A small cry of relief escapes me. "Since when do you listen to Esme?"

Cece shrugs, and I reach down to pick up the book tucked under the cushion. "Here, I figured you should have it."

Her eyes widen. "What is it?"

I caress the golden cover before angling it to her. "Delusions of Winter. It's the first Fae book I ever read. Mother gave it to me."

"Mother gave you a Fae book?" Cece's eyes flood with tears.

"When I turned sixteen. It was the night she told me about my magic."

She picks it up like it's the goddess' sacred shroud and holds it close to her chest. "I'll guard it with my life."

"Nothing so dramatic as that. It's a poetry book. The Fae King of Winter wrote it."

Her gaze drops down to her lap. "I hate that you have to leave… But most of all, I hate that I can't go with you."

A quick, comforting smile glazes over my lips. "Don't worry. I'll see you soon, Cece."

"How does it work? Are you just going to poof into nothingness?" she asks, the discretion she promised Esme clearly forgotten.

I press my lips together for a moment, unsure if I should tell the truth or not, but her open gaze coaxes information out of me better than any court inquisitor. "I'm going to hide in the shadows and sneak past the guard to get to the mirror downstairs."

"There's a mirror downstairs?" she gasps.

"Yes, and it's huge."

"Can I see it?"

My smile falters. What would Father do if he knew that I showed it to her? "Maybe next time."

"I love you, Nell."

"Love you, too."

We hug and get to bed, and before I know it, it's time for me to leave.

There's something insidious about going back to Faerie by myself. Do I have to return exactly fourteen days later? On the hour? Can I just decide to go whenever I please as long as I'm not late? What if I'd gone early last night? Would that have made me lose the bet?

I pace the mirror room, looking at my pocket watch. Twenty minutes to go… Surely, leaving twenty minutes early would bear no consequence? What if I was a minute late?

Ugh, I hate not knowing.

The glass darkens suddenly. I tighten my grip around my quill and step closer to the mirror to see better as the silhouette slowly sharpens into focus.

On the other side of the glass, a woman holds a matching set of daggers on each side of her at my approach, but the familiar shape of her shoulders melts my fears. It's not the Shadow King or one of his dark knights, but Lori.

A thin, almost translucent sapphire mask is visible through the opening in her black scarf, and I offer her a small wave. She drops her fighting stance and steps in from the glass.

My pulse drums in my veins. "What are you doing here?"

My worlds are colliding—I can't deal.

Lori grins proudly, and her shadow daggers vanish, the magic-made weapons flaking off into dark ashes. "Two promised to relieve me from my library duties for a week if I was able to make my way to you without assistance. I've never been to the old world, so it took a bit of time." She looks around the room, and her excitement is contagious. "I'd love to ask you for a tour, but we have to hurry. The harvest celebration starts in an hour."