Em is not gone, she’s only lost. This isn’t forever. It’s merely the beginning.
“I’ve seen a lot of heartbreak over the decades.” Dahlia removes the kerchief tying her black braided hair. “But nothing so tragic as the original vessel of the Verity.”
We’ve transformed the living area into a council session room. The couches have been pushed back and chairs added so everyone can take a seat. I choose to stand, finding a spot at the wall near the front window. I much prefer a place where I can observe, and from here I have the best angle.
Em’s mom paces the kitchen, bouncing her baby boy as she walks. Commander Archer casts regular glances in her direction. When she meets his gaze she smiles, then returns her focus to their son.
Flint and Tide sit on either side of the fireplace, knees bowed with hands clasped between them. Their tired expressions raise a hair of guilt. They really need some rest. We all do, but this takes precedence. I’ll have to promote both men if we ever end up on the Seven Seas again. While others in my crew abandoned our cause, these two have proven themselves worthy of far more than their current titles.
“Get to the point, Regina,” Preacher says, using Dahlia’s Second Reflection name. “We don’t got all night.” I stifle a smirk. I’ve known the old grump long enough to decipher the difference between a teasing word and a nasty one. He may seem as if he’s annoyed, but the slight perk of his whiskers says he’s the opposite.
“Cool your jets, Saul.” She waves her kerchief at him. “I’m gettin’ there.”
Wren slumps in her chair, her sister, Robyn, perched on the chair’s arm beside her. I don’t know why they chose to bring Wren of all Guardians. A bad attitude is the last thing we need. She is familiar with David, though, and that may be of use in the future.
Stormy sits cross-legged at one end of the sofa. Her shoes are off, eyes as bursting as her stick-up hair. I know she, at least, will do everything she can to help us find Em.
I move my gaze right, to Ebony and Khloe. My sister lies with her head in Ebony’s lap. The older girl strokes my sister’s black curls with a touch so gentle, my heart warms. I dwell on the feeling, use it to drive the Void another inch down my neck. The pain it causes makes my nostrils flare, but I’ve learned to keep the ache quiet. Hope fuels me. In whatever small way, I am still connected to Ember. I may have been deleted from her mind, but I doubt anything could be strong enough to remove me from her heart.
That is my belief anyway.
“I’ve encountered her just once,” Dahlia continues. “Years ago. During a visit to the Sixth. She keeps to herself like an Ever. Immortality does that to a soul, ya know? Everyone you knew is gone, only to be replaced with more who will pass on before your time. It can be a lonely existence at that. Gotta have a strong heart to endure so much loss.” She pounds a fist to her bosom.
I shift my stance, crossing one leg over the other.
“What’s her name?” Stormy fiddles with the fringe on the throw pillow in her lap. “The original vessel?”
“Like me,” Dahlia says, “she bears many names. I knew her as Sonja. Some claim she was the mythological Medusa. Others swear she was the despicable Queen Vashti from the book of Esther. But the most popular and perhaps most often told tale is the one of the Fairy Queen.”
A story my mother told us as kids rises to my mind. The Lament of the Fairy Queen always made Khloe cry. I, on the other hand, found it a little dull. The story is meant to leave you feeling sorry for the Queen in the end, but I never failed to come away peeved. In my opinion the Queen deserved what she got. I guess it depends on how you look at it really.
The last person I expect shoots from her chair. “David should be included in this. It isn’t right.” Wren storms from the room, leaving everyone frozen with jaws slack. When I hear the cellar door creak open, I follow after her, Makai in tow. But by the time we reach the door, Wren is dragging David along by his elbow. She shoves past us and they sit side by side on the love seat. Makai and I exchange a hefty glance. Okay then.
“Tell them,” Wren orders. Maybe she will be of some use after all. While the others seem timid around my apparent twin brother, which I still hesitate to believe is true, Wren doesn’t bat an eye near him. “Tell them what the old man said about the Fairy Queen.”
I arch both my eyebrows.
David glares.
“You want to find your girlfriend or not?”
He looks away.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but if we want to end this and find her, we’ll all have to work together.”
Wow. Song continues to surprise me. Being wrong about people is one of my favorite things. And it appears I was mistaken.
David’s hands remain bound behind his back. He adjusts on the cushion and leans forward, staring at the rug when he clears his throat and begins, “The Fairy Queen is real . . .”
The tale he relays leaves us all speechless. Even Khloe sits up to listen, knees pulled to her chest like when our mother would storytell.
But it’s Ebony who’s brought to tears. She swipes at them and stares at her lap. “All this time, and I never knew. My own mother and she never told me who she really was.” Her hands form fists at the center of her crossed legs. “I should’ve known. Everything she taught me. Her vast knowledge of the Reflections and Callings. She was shaping me to be just like her.” Head whipped up, she says, “Does this mean I’m not a Shield? Is my power some sick inheritance from my wretched immortal mother?”
No one answers. We have none to give. All we can do is take the missing pieces as they connect. The Fairy Queen. Isabeau. The Midnight Rose, which remains a mystery until Dahlia stands and says, “So that’s what the woman is up to.” She rounds on Makai. “You’d best be moving Miss Elizabeth along, you hear? I won’t have no Fairy Queen up in here puttin’ her to sleep forever.” Shooing him into the next room, Dahlia goes on and on. When the door shuts down the hall we can still hear her muffled rants.
So the Midnight Rose is a weapon, one plucked from the Garden of Epoch. And anyone who drinks its dew will sleep forever. I’ve never heard anything so insane. Good thing Em isn’t here. She’d flip out if she knew Isabeau continued to seek revenge on her mom.
Then again, that was the old Em. The one I’ve come to know in recent days would probably lead the Troll’s death march.
When Dahlia returns to the room, she claps her hands. “We know what we must do then.” Her lips curl. “Pack your bags, people. It’s gonna be a wild ride.”
We stare at her, waiting for whatever we seem to have missed.
With a slap to her knee, Dahlia says, “The only way to defeat the Void is to reverse what happened between Isabeau and Dimitri those many years ago. And to do so we must move back in time.”
I smile because I know exactly what she’s getting at. The Fairy Queen’s Lament mentions a fountain in the Seventh, and more specifically in the Garden of Epoch—the Fountain of Time.
Whatever David did to mess with Ember, it won’t matter if we can find the Fountain. If we can find it, the clock can be reversed. If we can find it and travel back in time, perhaps more than Ember can be saved. I know because I’ve tasted its water but once, and recently too. A single sip from a vial given to me by a stranger. A sip I used to venture into the past to save a little girl from a fire.
My burns feel fresh as I close my eyes and picture Em’s face.
The course to the past is calling.