An Artificial Night

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


Her eyes narrowed. “You carry a rose goblin bred of her lines. I know the cuttings that sprouted your companion; I nurtured their parents and originals. You can’t lie to me. I won’t allow it. Now tell me: where is my daughter?”

Oak and ash. “Your daughter?” I was stalling and I knew it. Hopefully she wouldn’t.

Hope doesn’t always cut it. “Her name is Luna,” she said. “Where is she?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Don’t you?” she asked. She shifted Spike to the crook of one elbow and raised her hand.

There may be words for the pain that swept through my midriff and torso, consuming what was left of my lower body and racing upward until it was almost to my chest. If there are, I don’t have them. The numbness followed close behind it, dulling the pain and replacing it with something a lot more chilling: utter nothingness. I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

Lowering her hand, Acacia smiled. “I think you need to tell me,” she said. I stared at her, fighting to breathe. “Unless you want to be a part of my wood forever. If it progresses far enough, not even I can free you.”

Wood. The poison turned flesh to wood. I twisted my neck as far as it would go and stared down at myself. The edge where flesh and wood collided was visible now as a ridge just below my ribcage, tendrils of bark weaving through my sweater. I caught my breath, suddenly aware of how little of my body I could feel. “Oberon . . .” I whispered.

“My father won’t help you,” Acacia said. “Where is my daughter? Where is Luna?”

I shifted to stare at her, wide-eyed. “Your father?”

“Yes,” she said. “My father.”

“But . . .”

“My mother was Titania of the Seelie Court; my father Oberon, King of all Faerie.”

Firstborn. Another Firstborn. Bitterly, I said, “Can’t you people just leave me alone?”

“You came to me, changeling, carrying my half sister’s candle and stalking my husband’s subjects. There’s no reason for me to leave you alone. Quite the contrary: there’s every reason for me to kill you where you lie and collect my lord’s bounties for it.” She paused. “Every reason but one.”

“What’s that?” I said, fighting to keep the terror from my voice. She’d hear it; she’d have to hear it. The Firstborn are good at that sort of thing. They’re legends—they’re practically gods—and they’re supposed to have the decency to be dead or in hiding. Why the hell was I suddenly running into them around every corner?

At least this one hadn’t mentioned my mother.

“You know where my daughter is.”

I closed my eyes. So that was it. Voice numb, I said, “After you kill me, let Spike go. It didn’t do anything to you.”

“Are you refusing to tell me?”

“My lady, you’re bigger and meaner than I am. I know that. But I can’t save my kids like this; I’m going to die here, whether I tell you what I know or not.” I sighed. “I can be a coward sometimes, but not today. If I’m going to die, I’m not betraying Luna while I do it.”

“But I’m her mother.”

“You don’t look a thing like her.” I forced myself to relax. If I was going to die, I could at least pretend to do it with dignity.

“I see,” she said, after a long pause. Her cloak rustled as she leaned closer, and then her hand was pressed against my cheek. Her skin was as cool and smooth as willow wood. My headache faded under the touch, and I sighed inwardly. I hate it when the villains tease.

“Just get it over with,” I said. I felt the prickle of Spike’s claws as it jumped onto my chest, still “purring.” At least one of us was happy.