21. 21

The day had arrived, and I stood in Riverside Park and shivered. Normally, walking kept me warm enough under all my winter layers, but Berron said he wanted to surprise me—and to do that, I had to stand in the snow. The 91st Street Garden slept under its snow blanket, only disturbed by Berron's footprints after he disappeared inside.

"Should have asked him to warm me up," I said to myself, remembering his warming magic only a few minutes too late.

Snow had fallen on New York, frosting every branch, covering the ground. The snow had blown in with such wind that it stuck to the windward side of the trees as if it had been carefully sprayed on. The snow lay on top of the old-fashioned lamps like a cap, and on the benches like a cold, custom-fit cushion.

The wind had stopped after the storm, leaving everything crystal and perfect. The parks department had cleared the walkways and stairs, but everything else was uninterrupted white powder.

Anything resembling a slope had kids and adults trying to sled down it.

I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, trying to stay warm and dispel my impatience.

Then, I heard it—

A crackle of bent branches. A shower of fallen snow. Clip-clops on stone pavers, faster and faster—

And a horse, flying over the 91st Street Garden fence, legs extended, mane flying, and the Prince of the Gentry on her back.

They landed with a thud that shook the ground and sent a spray of snow through the air.

"Showoffs," I said.

Berron bowed from Sybelia's star-scattered back. Sybelia just snorted. "Come on up," Berron said. "The weather's fine."

I took his arm and managed to clamber up in front of him. "At least the horse is warm," I said, taking the reins.

Sybelia, who had a mind of her own, began to walk.

"So am I," Berron said, passing his arms around my waist, his breath warm and tickling my neck.

"Make yourself useful and crank up the heat." I felt him smile without needing to look, and delicious warmth spread over me with tendrils of green and gold magic. "We can't do this for too long. Everyone will be waiting."

"I know," he said. "But how many days do we get like this? The sun will come out, and all of this will melt." He paused. "Do you like my surprise?"

"A horseback ride through a winter wonderland? Worst surprise ever."

He thumped his hand into his chest. "My lady cuts me to the quick! I am deceased, you hear me? Deceased!"

I pulled the reins. "Whoa," I said to Sybelia. I turned and kissed Berron's cheek. "Not on my watch," I said. I turned around and clicked my tongue.

Sybelia danced sideways for a moment before launching into a peppy trot.

Passers-by pointed and waved at the sight of us.

Berron, of course, waved back.

"Stop waving."

"Why?"

"You're acting like royalty."

"I am royalty."

"They don't know that."

"On some level they do," Berron said, with confidence so smooth it could have buttered bread.

"So modest."

"One of my many qualities." He gave me a little squeeze, and I couldn't help it—I laughed. "Try it," he added. "You'll like it."

"I'm not waving at people."

"Come on, my Zelda," he said. "Just try it."

It was the my Zelda that did it. We were approaching a group of children building a snow-something—the exact shape wasn't quite clear yet—and I tentatively raised a hand.

The kids broke into whoops, and waved back.

"See? Already a queen," Berron said.

"I'm the queen of New York!" I said, getting into it.

We rode on, laughing and talking about nothing much at all. You don't always appreciate those moments of nothing much until you've been through the fire. As far as I was concerned, I would be holding each and every one of those nothing much moments close like they were the last drops of sapphire-berry juice shaken out of a flamingo-stemmed goblet.

By the time we had ridden out and back, it was time to meet up with the others for our field trip.

Mom had gone safely home—and Lily with her, for a winter family vacation in Florida.

Victorine, the fuddy-duddy, had claimed that one place was much like another, and she would rather stay in her Upper East Side home and tend her orchids.

But Poppy, Daniel, Jessica, James, and the Princess were game.

The Princess of Arrows returned with Berron when he took Sybelia back to the Forest of Emeralds, and the three of us headed for the appointed subway station to meet the rest of the gang.

"I have never ridden this ‘subway,'" the Princess of Arrows said, once again resplendent in gold.

What do you say to that? You're in for a treat? "It's something," I said.

"I prefer Sybelia," Berron said, "but she doesn't carry seven."

Underground, I scanned the subway platform. "James!" I called.

His black leather duster spun open as he turned. A gray streak in his hair caught the light like ice. He waved.

Since I'd started slowly moving his vampire magic to Jessica, he was the happiest almost-middle-aged man in Manhattan. It required holding hands with both of them for long periods of time, and left me craving steak afterward, but they were both getting what they needed.

Jessica, Daniel, and Poppy joined us.

And we were off, a small crowd moving through the larger one that milled around the subway platform. A breeze kicked up, pushed out of the tunnel by an oncoming train.

"That's ours," I said. "Last one to Battery Park's a rotten egg!"

The train squealed to a stop and the doors sighed open. People made their way off the train and we made our way in, settling into hard plastic seats underneath ads and diagrams of the subway system.

At the last second, two more men jumped on.

With a guitar and an accordion.

The Princess of Arrows clapped her hands in delight. "Musicians!" She looked at the other passengers, who—every single one of them—immediately became fascinated by their phones, a book, or looking in any direction but at the two musicians. "Why do they not show their joy?"

"It overwhelms them," Berron said, obviously trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ah," the Princess said, nodding. The two subway performers struck up a folk song. The Princess of Arrows rose to her slippered feet and began to delicately soft-shoe.

"Go on, my Berron," I said. "Just try it."

He shot me a look. "Someday," he said, "I will have my revenge." He stood, took his sister's hands, and joined her in the dance.

"That's actually quite catchy," Poppy said. She stood up, gripped a subway pole for balance, and began to boogie side-to-side.

James jumped up and struck a Saturday Night Fever pose.

Jessica shaded her face with one hand. "I don't know any of you."

I was too busy watching the antics to notice that Daniel had glided over. "May I have this dance?" he said. "For old times' sake."

And then we were dancing, too, but laughing too much to do it well. When the next stop came, everyone switched partners, and Daniel dragged Jessica to her feet.

By the time we arrived at Battery Park, we had entertained, confused, or annoyed hundreds of subway passengers.

We disembarked and headed upstairs.

Inside Battery Park, even the SeaGlass Carousel appeared to be covered in powdered sugar. We passed it and continued to the dockside promenade, where we presented our tickets to Statue City Cruises.

From the dock level upward, the three-story ferry was as white as the snow. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it had been sculpted in the park and then set in the harbor. But it was solid and reassuringly steady as we crossed the gangplank and boarded.

"Which level?" I called over my shoulder.

"Top!" cried Poppy.

"It's freezing up there!"

Poppy made jazz hands and wiggled her fingers at me, as if to remind me of her fire magic.

I found the stairs and headed up, past the second level, to the open-aired third level with rows of all-white benches. Unsurprisingly, we had it entirely to ourselves.

When all the passengers had boarded, the ferry engines rumbled.

Poppy was humming to herself—the tune from the subway—and a twinkling silver glitter drifted over all of us.

Toasty warmth surrounded me.

The ferry chugged away from the dock. From the harbor, the skyline looked completely different, as if leaving it changed it completely. When I stood on the city streets, it felt like my city. Looking back at it, over the distance and the water, it felt like everyone's city.

The Statue of Liberty came into view. Small, as the Princess of Arrows had said, but getting bigger every second.

The arrival dock lay behind the Statue, facing an American flag that waved in the harbor breeze. Snow coated the small stand of trees nearby.

Already we had come so far, past anywhere the Blessed or the Gentry could have gone before. I smiled. Set my cap firmly. Waited for the ferry to dock securely.

Berron was at the railing, his hands gripping the rail until small vines grew, his gaze on the Statue. The second the boat stilled, he was moving for the stairs.

I jumped up and herded the rest of our crew down, to find Berron waiting on the ferry side of the gangplank. "What are you waiting for?" I said.

"You."

A whole world inside one word.

Our slow and careful walk down the gangplank turned reckless when we reached dry, solid ground. Poppy and the Princess of Arrows galloped at full tilt over the brick promenade. Berron, Daniel, and James jostled each other good-naturedly, like boys, while Jessica, like a dark horse, sprinted ahead of all of us, arms pumping, head held high. James dropped back with a good-natured laugh and waved them on, his human side beginning to show in gasps for air.

When the brick path narrowed and began to curve around the star-shaped stone fort, we all slowed and walked together.

When we reached our destination, and gazed upward together, no one spoke.

Beyond the roof of the fort, above the stone pedestal with its edges piped with snow, stood the Statue of Liberty. Her arm, well-muscled like a baker's; her crown, a halo and a pointed defense against those who would challenge her. She was strong—for us.

We would be strong for each other.

I thought of my grandmother: sandwiches, bowls of fluffy potato salad, cold glasses of milk and pans of apple tarts overflowing with cinnamon and sugar. Summer mornings on the Central Park lawn. Letting the magic in.

Setting the magic free.

The Statue stared out at the harbor, holding her torch with the golden flame. Watching the ships come in, watching the seasons change.

Until the clouds shifted, and the shadows played over her face; and it seemed, for only a few breaths, that she turned her gaze on us.

And she smiled.