Sidra tried to remain impassive, but her upper lip curled of its own volition. “Was it the girl who revealed me?”
Oberon sat back as if amused by the question. “Do you think a king relies on his granddaughter to tell him what goes on in his own kingdom? Your presence made itself known like a hot ember among the snowdrops from the moment you arrived.”
She’d lost track of time. How long had he known she was there and done nothing? Weeks? Months? Had she made the mistake of underestimating this being of light and frivolity?
“My apologies, Oberon.” The words tasted of ash on her tongue, but it was all she could think to say to preserve her toehold in this realm.
“Accepted. However, your false humility will do you no good here.”
Anger simmered beneath Sidra’s skin, flushing her with prickling heat. How would her magic work in the Fée lands against a king? The dampness of the woods gave her pause, surrounded as she was by so much mist. Her fire might only smolder and hiss.
“It’s not her fault,” Yvette said in a rare show of contrition. “It was me. I stole a wish from Sidra, so I owed her a favor. She was hiding inside a bottle I was keeping safe for her when we landed here. The secret was mine. I should have told you.”
Sidra lifted her chin a proud notch. “We were following the trail of a fire omen.”
Oberon seemed to consider the notion as he inhaled a scent floating on the air. “I am aware of the prognosticating powers of the jinn,” he said, gazing at Sidra. “The spark from which your magic flares is perhaps older than the font from which my people sprung, but you would do well to keep in mind you are not the only one here with abilities to see the future.”
The king stood and walked to a birdbath nestled between two standing stones beside his twiggy throne. A trio of sprites had been dipping their feet into the water, splashing and laughing at the faces they made in the reflective surface. He shooed them away, sending the creatures flying into hiding in the long mossy robe he wore. Oberon spread his hand over the surface to still the water. His eyes tracked something momentarily as it darted across the surface. He half smiled, then grimaced as he raised an oaky eyebrow at the girl’s grandmother. She demurred and sheathed her smile as the king dipped a finger into the water and swirled it around seven times until it flowed in a tiny whirlpool. He watched the water go around, then cast his hand over the surface of the font as if to seal its magic. With a sigh he strode before Sidra and Yvette. Behind him his queen bit her lower lip.
“The long curl of fate will devour itself if allowed to spin in a circle too long,” he said, eyes firmly locked on Sidra’s as he towered over her. “A dog chasing its tail. A snake that eats itself. An end undone by a hungry beginning.” His eyes glimmered with the sheen of prophecy, as if he were still trapped halfway inside the vision. “Though I understand your kind prefers to remain in shadow, you do not belong here. You may no longer hide within my borders,” he said and returned to his seat beside Titania.
The fire that had crept into Sidra’s fingertips pulsed, begging for release. Curse that fairy for looking into the beyond. Had he seen her pain and desolate future? Did he care so little about her fate that he would toss her off like a leaf falling from one of his grotesque trees? The tittering creatures took to the air as if to mock her, daring to get near enough to tug at her robes.
“But what if she has a good reason to stay?” Yvette implored as only a granddaughter could.
The king cast a doubtful look that made the limbs on the trees shudder.
Sidra flicked a fallen leaf from her shoulder. “I won’t beg a host for shelter where it is not freely given.”
“But you can’t go back. You’ll be blown to smithereens by that creep.”
“I do not need you to plead my case, girl.”
“Oh là là, I was only trying to help. Fine, go ahead and get yourself banished. And good riddance.”
A creature no bigger than a hummingbird fluttered in front of Sidra’s face. It was naked except for the chestnut twigs tied to either side of its head meant to mimic Oberon’s antlers. The sprite grinned before urinating on Sidra’s caftan.
“This is an example of your famous Fée hospitality?” she said, holding up the sleeve of her ruined silk for all to see. “Then it is better I am gone.”
Yvette rolled her eyes. “It’s only a trickle.”
Sidra blew hot breath on the filthy creature, not quite burning him to a crisp, but what hair he had on his head was singed down to the bare scalp. His twiggy antlers disintegrated to ash before he fluttered off to pout beside his queen.
“Enough!” Oberon stood. His winged subjects froze in the air, waiting to see which way the fickle royal wind would blow. “While I harbor no ill will toward you or your kind, jinni, you do not belong in these lands. Not because you are unwelcome but because your fate awaits your return to the other world. Life’s consequences will not simply go away because you found a temporary place of safety.”
“I will abide the laws of fate, but know there is only death for me if I return to that city of infidels.”
“Someone put a binding spell on her,” Yvette added, giving Sidra a sideways glance. “She tends to bring out the hate in people like that.”
Sidra showed her teeth, but her hostility did not last. The jinni backed down uncharacteristically, turning away when her emotions threatened to dampen her fire. “I cannot return there,” she said resolutely once she’d regained her control. “Do not bind my fire by tossing me back into that place. I would rather sink to the bottom of the bottle for an eternity than be thrown into that whirlwind of grief again.”
Oberon took his wife’s hand in his and considered the jinni’s plea. “And yet the laws by which we all abide do not allow you to remain in passivity and stagnation. No one’s path stops midlife. It must continue toward its end.”
Titania made a barely perceptible noise in the back of her throat before covering her mouth with her hand to hide her whispers. Her king leaned in to listen. After a moment he straightened, his eyes gleaming with the spark of an idea. The jinni hugged her slightly damp caftan around her arms as if to shield herself from his verdict.
The King of the Fairies was handed a wooden staff with a crystal affixed on top by one of his winged minions. “Upon consideration, I will grant you your escape from the city in which you were bound,” he said to her enormous relief. And then he added a “however” that filled the jinni with the sort of dread that made her wish she’d grabbed hold of something solid first.
The word left hanging in the air was the last thing she remembered before being squeezed through a narrow seam between worlds, where glittery lights, like sunlight on water, flared in her peripheral vision.
CHAPTER TWO
A tiny green tendril unfurled in Elena’s hand. So small and fragile now, but in weeks it would become a tenacious anchor strong enough to hold up the vine when the fruit grew fat and heavy. She placed her hand on the cane and closed her eyes, listening for the rush of life inside. Cells inflated and deflated as nutrients from the soil fattened out the roots, holding on to the energy needed to create new growth. Satisfied with the plant’s prospects, she hooked the tendril around the vine’s woody cane and hung a charm of mustard and rosemary to protect the plant row from any shadow spells creeping around the root crowns at night, hoping for a place to deposit fungus.