Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae: Episode Two, Part 1
Updated Report by Bodkins A Hatpin to Her Majesty of the Realm
Subject: Mira Morganstein a.k.a Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae
Topic: The Subject’s Reaction to the Knack Her Many Greats Grandmother Nicked
Your Majesty,
Despite a rather inauspicious beginning (as is any beginning that includes Toadwart) and the presence of a changeling, Mira Morganstein has adapted well to the news that she is to be the new Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae.
On the whole, this mission was much easier than I’d anticipated despite Mira’s uncanny ability to see what doesn’t want to be seen. (See reports: Bodkins in a Tree; Toadwart on the Path Home; Changeling.)
I would like to add a caveat that it is my impression that the girl has not yet grasped the enormity of her situation. It is also my impression that she has some very definite ideas of what the Folk are (See report: Catalogue of “Fairy” Dolls, Figurines, Statues) and no idea of what really awaits her now and after she completes her amulet.
It is with this in mind that I ask to be granted permission to begin Mira’s education sooner rather than later. Time is running short, as Your Majesty is well aware, and the better the grasp the girl has of what is to be expected of her, the greater the chance of her succeeding.
The Owl confirms that time is of the essence. The balance between the Realms is delicate, and if Mira does not take her place soon, *Bad Things will happen.
Therefore, with your permission, I shall begin Mira’s education.
Bodkin A. Hatpin
Chair of the Folk in Higher Accounting and Naming
*My apologies for not being more specific. The Owl can be rather vague on Certain Pressing Matters.
Chapter One: Three Unexpected Visitors
The first thing Mira saw when she opened her eyes was the yellowy glint of the demon’s grin. He winked at her from where he sat on her pillow, watching her.
She shrieked and snatched the edge of her pillow and hurled it away, sending the demon flying across her room. He landed in a heap of mismatched socks with a startled yelp.
Mira pulled her blankets tightly about her as though they could repel the demon by the power of their pinkness alone. Fear raced in icy circles from her gut and up into her heart. She shook her head to untangle the jumble of fragmented memories from the night before.
There had been a hairless cat look alike with red trousers—Bodkins. Then there had been a boy-shaped shadow—Changeling—and that horrible creature rummaging through her socks with a hungry gleam in his eyes.
She put a hand to her head as the memories came faster and faster. The Pink Lemonade Brigade. The final present, save one. A rolled up bit of vellum. Her mother’s story about the way her family had been nicking knacks for generations.
And her knack was to be the Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae.
Thoughts of tiaras and mounds of beautiful ball gowns quieted her heart until it slowed to its normal steady beat.
“Mira, honey, are you all right?” her mother called from the other side of Mira’s door.
“I-I’m fine, Mom,” Mira said as a happy grin spread across her face. “I just had a . . .” she glanced at the demon who had selected a dark blue sock with brown stripes, “a bad dream. Everything’s okay now.”
Even the sight of the demon gnawing on one of her socks couldn’t dampen her mood. The fact that he was there only proved that yesterday had been more than a dream.
It had been real.
“Are you sure?”
For one terrible moment, Mira thought her mother was going to open her door. Her mother hadn’t exactly sounded pleased about all the magic running through their blood. Frowning, she waved at the demon to hide behind her wastebasket.
“Positive. I’m getting up now.”
“Come downstairs when you’re finished,” her mother said, a hint of unhappiness in her voice. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Mira waited until the sound of her mother’s footsteps faded down the hall before she jumped out of bed. She gathered the clothes she’d forgotten to lay out the night before.
“Out,” she ordered the demon who was eyeing the contents of her wastebasket with altogether too much interest.
“Thou hasn’t a name,” he said, grinning at her. “So I’ll be doing as I like.”
“I do have a name,” Mira said, licking her lips and hoping it would be enough. That Bodkins creature had acted as though he was in charge. Not to mention the whole Pink Lemonade Brigade. Fairy godmothers ought to be able to handle ousting one stubborn demon. Mira smiled brightly. “In fact, I have over a dozen names.”
Wary now, the demon dropped into a crouch. “And what sort of names would those be?”
“Your boss, for starters. Not to mention a whole posse of fairy godmothers.”
The demon grimaced at the mention of the fairy godmothers. “You mayn’t banish me,” he said, drawing his long purple tongue across his teeth. “The queen and the keeper have allowed me a place.”
Mira stifled a sigh of impatience. Once she finished her amulet, she’d be a queen too. “I don’t care who said you could bother me this morning. I need to get dressed, and you need to leave.”
The demon regarded her with solemn yellow eyes. “I’ll return,” he promised. Then, putting a finger to the side of his nose, he took a step sideways and vanished.
Mira shivered, still getting used to magic being more than just a fairy story.
Checking to make sure she really was alone, she hurried and got dressed before she ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth and drag a comb through her hair. She took the stairs two at a time, wondering how she’d go about building her amulet and how she would fit it in with her math and geography homework.
“What did you need, Mom?” She asked, rushing into the kitchen, eager not to waste even a minute. She stopped short when she got to the table that was far from empty.
Her mother sat upright and rigid, her worry line had appeared again and her face had lost most of its color. One of the Pink Lemonade Brigade, Auntie Bluebonnet, sat next to her, patting her arm. Taking up the rest of the table was a creature made of stone. His head nearly brushed against the ceiling, and he had his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes were deep blue agate stones, and the expression on his wide, rocky face was of quiet—if pinched—contentment.
“Hello.” Mira glanced around the table, doing her best not to stare at the rock creature. Her mother hadn’t raised her to have sloppy manners, no matter how curious she might be. Her heart hammered against her chest, reminding her with every beat that magic was every bit as real as she was.
It was an electrical feeling—one that left her with the impression of what it would be like to catch a stray piece of lightning by the tail.
“Mira.” Bluebonnet beamed as though having a rock giant at the table was nothing at all out of the ordinary. “Come sit down. There’s a couple of Folk I’d like you to meet.”
Mira glanced at her mother whose eyes had gone glassy, though her lips were pinched with all the things she wasn’t shouting. Wary now, she took a seat.
“It’s so good to see you again, dear. I’ve always believed that once a year was too seldom to visit, but the rules of the Realm are the rules of the Realm, and they’ve often made for interesting stories.” Bluebonnet gave her a grandmotherly grin that was all sugar cookies and pink lemonade. “But enough of the pleasantries, for I could only come here by way of a Reason and a Purpose.”
The rock giant grumbled something that sounded like a boulder crashing down a hillside.
Bluebonnet gave the congenial nod of the elderly when they didn’t like to let on that they couldn’t hear what was being said. She reached over and gave his rocky fist a warm pat.
“There, there,” she tutted, “all in good time.”
Mira had the bewildering sensation of waking up from a dream only to realize she hadn’t actually woken up at all, but was still stuck in a place where things like Rules and Logic gave way to Wonderland and On a Whim. She glanced at the clock ticking with comforting precision above the stove.
“I’m going to be late to school.” She did her best to hide her glee. Missing geometry was a treat she was seldom given. Still, putting the idea out there was the responsible thing to do, and judging by her mother’s stormy calm and Bluebonnet’s penchant for chatter, she wasn’t in any danger of not missing today’s geometry lesson.
“You’re not going today,” her mother said through her teeth, recovering enough of herself to glare at the fairy godmother sitting next to her.
Mira’s mouth dropped open. Lying at death’s door was the only way she’d ever gotten out of going to school before, and even that didn’t work if the medicine improved her from Mostly Dead to Somewhat Ill.
Bluebonnet tittered nervously. “What your mother means, dear, is that I’ve come on family business. But have no fear, if things go well, the gnome in charge of Keeping Time could be persuaded to fold some minutes here and tuck away some hours there until we come back round to this morning. An education should never be squandered.”
Mira nodded, her brow wrinkled with the effort of figuring out how exactly one folded and tucked away time, and what that all meant for her, specifically in regard to math lessons.
“I don’t see why she can’t wait until the summer or until she’s older. I didn’t find out about the ‘family business’ until I was sixteen, and I didn’t have to start training right away,” her mother said, deepening her frown.
“Yes,” Bluebonnet said in a voice meant to soothe her mother’s ruffled feathers, “but that was in a quieter, gentler time. A safer time.”
Mira’s mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Mira is in danger?” She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
“Oh, dear,” Bluebonnet murmured. “I’m going about this all wrong. We really should have sent Dahlia or Rosebud, but they were busy keeping the dragons at . . . Hmmmm.” She put a hand to her mouth as she realized that dragons were hardly the thing to reassure Mira’s mother, but Mira couldn’t help feeling more than a prick of curiosity.
Dragons, despite their size and tendency to hoard gold and eat people, had always fascinated her. Perhaps she could get a dragon once she was queen.
A small one. That ate carrots.
“Good grief!” a high-pitched voice chimed from the rock giant’s shoulder. “Time is passing, and we’ve done nothing to endear ourselves to the Gnome.” A pinprick of light no bigger than the nail on Mira’s pinkie flared on the rock giant’s shoulder before it flew down and hovered a few inches away from Mira’s face.
“I’m Bauble,” the light said in a voice like chiming bells that were quarreling with each other. “And that’s Broam. We’re here to help you with your quest.”
Mira blinked slowly as the delicious feeling of magic washed over her. It felt warm and soft, like the scent of baking cookies or fresh bread. Here was a friend she could confide in and have adventures with. Follow—
“That’s enough of that, Bauble,” Bluebonnet said, waving her hand. Then to Mira, “I have something that will help guard against Certain Unscrupulous Mesmerizing.” She gave Bauble a severe look. “It isn’t the tastiest of potions, but it will do the trick in a pinch. Take one sip each night at dusk.”
Mira blinked at the small, turquoise bottle Bluebonnet held out to her, feeling cold as the warm comfort of Bauble’s spell slipped away. She took it with numb hands and tucked it into her pocket for later study.
“You brought a wisp?” Mira’s mother said, her voice low and dangerous.
“There, there, dear,” Bluebonnet soothed. “You can’t believe everything you hear, and not all the wisps have allied themselves with her.”
“With who?” Mira asked at the same time her mother growled, “So far as I’m concerned, they’ve earned their reputation. If I had known you’d be bringing a wisp into my house, entrusting one with the care of my daughter, I never would have allowed this meeting to happen. Perhaps it’s better if Mira goes to school while we sort this out.” Her mother folded her arms, and from the look on her face, wasn’t likely to budge on the matter.
Bluebonnet sighed. “That isn’t really your choice to make, my dear. Being angry at me won’t change that. Nor will it change her fate. Mira’s fate is in her own two hands. You’ve raised up a girl you can be proud of. Trust in that.”
“Fate is just a fancy word for What the Folk Want, They’ll Take,” her mother said. There was still iron in her tone, but some of her frosty anger melted away into something brittler.
Mira put a hand to her head, wishing she could put everyone on hold until her head stopped spinning. “Why is all of this happening now?”
Bluebonnet gave her a kindly smile, and even the rock giant’s stony lips raised themselves in what was likely meant as bracing encouragement. “We told you, dear. You’ve come into your eleventy year.”
She shook her head, the answer to her question so near she could almost taste it. “This is different than yesterday.”
Yesterday, her mother had been her usual self, concerned with making sure everything was perfect for the Pink Lemonade Brigade. There had been a higher-pitched undercurrent of excitement. Today, the air rippled with anxiety and anger, and not even Bluebonnet could smooth that away.
For a moment, Mira wondered if the sock eating demon had anything to do with this, but the weight of all the words her fairy godmother wasn’t saying was far too heavy for a single minion to produce.
Bluebonnet sighed and all the cheerfulness whooshed out of her. “I’m afraid the answer isn’t so simple. You see, the Realm is facing its greatest danger and how it all turns out will depend, in part, upon you, Mira.”
“It isn’t fair,” her mother’s words came out as shards of ice. “It isn’t fair to put that kind of burden on her shoulders.”
“No,” Bluebonnet shook her head sadly, “but it is the truth. There is mischief afoot, and Mira is uniquely suited to dealing with it. But you, my dear,” she turned her bright attention upon Mira once more, “must decide if this is what you choose.”
She swallowed hard and glanced between Bluebonnet and her mother. “And if I don’t?” she whispered, wondering how such happy dreams could wither away and die so quickly.
“Then you will lose your knack, receive the punishment in the binding for allowing the loss, and the Realm itself will likely fall.”
“Oh.” Suddenly her choice didn’t seem all that hard after all, even though it made her mother unhappy, not to mention the way her own heart was rabbiting about her ribcage.
She took in a deep breath, gave her mother a silent apology, and said, “Fine. I’ll do it then.”
A Message by Way of Mouse
Flora,
She knows and has accepted her fate.
Bluebonnet
PS: There is so much to tell you, but the standard size of scrap of paper that the mouses are allowed to carry is too sm—
Chapter Two: In Which Mira Loses Her Shadow and Travels to Faerie
Mira stared at her room with all its pink and its frills and her small army of ceramic fairies. Auntie Bluebonnet had sent her up to pack while the fairy godmother, Bauble, Broam, and her mother “sorted out the details,” which Mira knew was a grownup’s way of saying they had Important things to discuss and could all the children please clear the room?
But what on earth did one pack for a visit to Fairyland?
She upended her backpack and set loose a torrent of Geography, Mathematics, and History that were accompanied by a number of loose papers and notebooks.
And a bit of magenta glitter from an old art project.
She rolled up an extra set of clothing and a few pairs of clean underwear, hoping that would appease her mother, though she doubted anything less than keeping Mira home would make her mother happy. Her clothes took up exactly one half of the backpack.
The fat book of tales gave her a look of such longing that if it were a puppy, it would have been whimpering softly while wagging its tail in a plea to come along.
“Not this time,” she whispered, placing a friendly hand on the cover. In all the tales of quests and great deeds she’d read about, exactly none of the heroes had brought along a book. Books, being heavy and unwieldy, made for excellent traveling companions so long as someone else was carrying them. As if it understood, the leather cracked a little more while the edges sagged around the middle.
Still, perhaps a book wasn’t a bad idea. She would be an explorer of sorts, so she needed to record the details of her journey in case she needed to remember everything later.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back,” she promised her book, feeling a little guilty as she stuffed a small, blank journal and fuzzy pink pen in between the backpack and her clothes.
“Get back from where?” Changeling detached himself from the weak shadow of her desk and came to stand beside her.
Mira jumped, startled, then smiled. “You’ve come back!”
“Of course I did.” He cocked his head to the side as though listening for all the words she wasn’t saying. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No. I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.” Mira grinned at him before a terrible thought struck her. “How long have you been standing there?”
Changeling shrugged. “Time is a funny thing, even more so when you’re stitched in along the edges of two worlds. You were talking to your book when I came in.”
Mira nodded, wondering if there was a spell to keep the magical out until they at least knocked. She’d have to ask Auntie Bluebonnet later. Or maybe they could hang enchanted bells around the faeries’ necks and set them to ring whenever they entered the house. She hadn’t noticed how ubiquitous they were until now. Of course, she hadn’t exactly known they’d existed until yesterday. Perhaps her house had always been a revolving door.
What a horrible thought!
She blushed and shoved her lunch into the bag to cover up some of her embarrassment. “I’m going to Faerie.” Then, because Changeling looked baffled, even for a shadow, “In answer to your question. Auntie Bluebonnet came this morning and said we’ve got to go. Something about the fate of the worlds.”
Changeling cocked his head to the other side, studying her. “What does that mean?”
“I honestly have no idea. She just said that Faerie was in trouble and it was up to me to help fix it.” Mira’s blush deepened. In a storybook, that would have made her the heroine. At the moment, however, she felt pretty much anything but heroic.
“Fairy godmothers are like that,” Changeling said consolingly as he absentmindedly flicked a couple of shadows hanging off her bed. “You get used to it after a while. Speaking vague and slantwise has been a fad in the Realm for so long that they’ve forgotten any other way to speak.”
“Cinderella’s fairy godmother was pretty specific,” Mira said, gently chewing her top lip as she tried to think of anything else she might need. On an impulse, she opened the draw to her nightstand and rummaged through until she found a silver heart-shaped locket.
“Yes,” Changeling said, still playing with the edges of other shadows and not completely attending, “but that’s different.”
The locket was cold against Mira’s palm, and she almost put it back. But she was going to Faerie for the first time and wanted to come well-armed. Besides, what else was Faerie for but Happily Ever Afters? Before she could change her mind, she put the locket on and tucked it under her shirt where it could burn against her heart.
“I don’t really see how.”
“It’s all in the rules.” Changeling stopped fiddling with the shadows, sat down on the floor, and leaned back against the bedpost. “They have to be specific about those—particularly since she wanted Cinderella to have a good time. But she didn’t tell her about the Carriers or the real reason why Cinderella needed to be home by midnight.”
Mira stopped fretting over what she needed to pack and gave Changeling her whole attention. “What are Carriers and why did she have to get home before the ball ended?”
“Carriers find magic, and Cinderella’s stepmother wasn’t quite mortal. If either had found her out, the fairy tale wouldn’t have ended quite so happily.”
Fascinated, Mira wanted to ask more questions, but Changeling had hunched his shoulders and shrunk into himself almost as if talking about it pained him in some way. He was her friend and she didn’t want to cause him pain, so Mira added one more thing to the growing list of questions she had for Auntie Bluebonnet.
“Well, I’m glad it turned out well then. Do you have any suggestions on what I should pack?”
Changeling shook his head. “I’ve been out of the Realm too long to remember. When are you leaving?”
“Just as soon as Auntie Bluebonnet and my mom are done talking.” Mira made a face as she zipped up her backpack. “Grownup stuff they don’t think I’d understand.”
Changeling sighed. “I’ve forgotten what that’s like. ‘Course some of the Folk are high-minded too.”
Mira tugged her backpack onto her back and adjusted the straps for her new load that was strangely both heavier and lighter now that it had been divested of things that had, until recently, taken up so much of her time and attention and meant absolutely nothing in the face of what mattered.
Like building an amulet worthy of a queen.
“I don’t know what they think they’re protecting me from. My knack has been nicked, and I’m a queen of Faerie. They can’t coddle me forever.”
“You’re right,” Changeling said.
Mira narrowed her eyes. There was something about his tone that hinted at so much more than the words he’d said. “What?”
“Nothing,” Changeling muttered—underscoring the fact that what he’d been about to say had been quite the opposite—as he chased the shadows of dust across Mira’s carpet with his fingers.
For the briefest of seconds, Mira considered giving into her impulse to scream and rage about her room. The one thing that saved her was the thought that the Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae—or someone who was close to becoming so—wouldn’t have done it no matter how tiresome her subjects might behave.
“If I’m to become a queen of Faerie, then I wanted to be treated like one,” Mira said, smoothing her skirt along with her temper. “What do you know?”
Changeling hunched down further until he was little more than awkward angles and knobby knees. “Nothing. It’s just that—“
Mira folded her arms. “Yes?”
For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to say anything, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he melted back into the shadows and ignored her entirely. But he sighed and sat a little straighter. “They won’t like it, and you’ll probably get in trouble. Travel by fairy godmother is a lot safer.”
“Safer than what?” She could almost taste the answer hanging in the space between them, and leaned closer unconsciously.
“How I get from one Realm to the next,” Changeling said, his tone unhappy, but resigned. He gestured to the puddle of shadows he’d been gathering that she hadn’t noticed until now. The sunlight was still light enough that the shadows were more like weak tea. “By hopping from one shadow to the next.”
Intrigued, Mira knelt down so she could get a better look at the puddle. “You travel by shadow?” And yet it made a strange sort of sense, seeing how Changeling was nothing more than shadow himself.
He jerked his head down in a sharp nod. “It’s safe for those like me.” Then he clamped his lips closed.
Mira knew she ought to be a good little queen-to-be and wait for Auntie Bluebonnet and the rest. At the very least, she needed to say goodbye to her mother. But a little knot of frustration had hardened into a hard knobbly thing at the center of her chest. For all the grandness of what could be thanks to her knack, they were all still treating her like a child.
Faerie was calling, and she was tired of waiting.
Resolute, she stood up. “Show me.”
Changeling reluctantly unfolded himself until he was standing alongside her. “There are some modifications I can make,” he said by way of peace offering, “to make the magic safer.”
Mira nodded. Taking sensible precautions wasn’t the same thing as wrapping everything up in bubble wrap. “Is it something I can learn to do too? Once I’m a faerie queen and come into my own magic, of course.”
No one had exactly promised her wings or a magic wand, but what self-respecting faerie queen did without either?
He stared at her for a long moment. “You already have the means. You just have to learn the knowing.”
“Wait.” Mira’s heart skipped a beat, leaving her lightheaded and giddy. “Do you mean I can go to Faerie myself? Whenever I want?”
Changeling nodded as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “We can even make an anchor to make sure you don’t get lost.”
“What do we do first?” Mira’s fingers tingled and fizzed, and it was all she could do not to dance with impatience. Once she learned Changeling’s secret, she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to shuttle her between this world and Faerie ever again!
“I’m going to need your shadow,” Changeling said apologetically.
“What are you going to do with it?”
He gestured with his hands as though trying to weave the answer before her. “It’s kind of complicated.”
Mira frowned. “I think I can keep up.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, there are things in the Realm that you don’t have words for in this one.” Changeling thought for a minute. “Shadows are like doors, but more. They also serve as a compass or sorts. They’re also a key for some things, like anchoring you to this world so you can always find your way back.”
Mira nodded. So far so good.
Changeling tugged at his hair as though he could grip the problem by its roots. “By using your shadow to anchor you homeward, you’ll need something to anchor you to Faerie well enough to keep you real.”
She furrowed her brow. “Why? I’d still have my shadow. I’d just be leaving it at home.”
“Rules are rules. “Changeling picked up his shadow puddle and began working it the same way Mira had worked clay during art class earlier that week. She watched, more than a little mesmerized, as he patiently tucked and teased, twisted and folded, pinched and molded the shadow into something that looked a lot like a treasure chest that was small enough to fit in his cupped hands.
“What do the rules say?” Mira cast a glance at her book of tales that was sitting forlornly on her bed, its cover cracked and dimmed from missing her already. She thought she’d read enough stories to be prepared for anything Faerie might throw at her. Of course, most of the time she’d been soaking in stories, she hadn’t understood how real Faerie was. And now that she knew, she realized there were likely holes in her education large enough to drive a train through.
That thought unsettled her more than she was willing to admit. Besides, what sort of faerie queen cringed away from the unknown simply because she’d never met it before?
“Your shadow makes you real. Take that away, and you won’t have enough of yourself left to pass through the gate standing between this Realm and the other.”
“I’d be trapped.” Though that hard little knot dug into her heart, Mira still had enough sense left to balk at the thought of never being able to come home again. For though Faerie had called—and was still calling—the earth was in her blood.
Changeling nodded.
Her fear melted away as Mira heard what he’d left unsaid. Grinning, she gestured to the baby treasure chest. “And you have a way around that.”
“Ye-es.”
Mira grimaced. “Another rule?”
“More like an imposition. You only have one shadow, and that’s the one that will light your way home. But—“
“I’d need a second shadow.”
He nodded again, not quite happy, but not as unhappy as he’d been earlier.
Mira chewed a little more at her top lip. If she remembered rightly, there was a story about that. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as dangerous and impossible as her heart assured her it most definitely would be. “Isn’t there a store—a market—where I can get a second shadow?”
Though his face was a smooth mask of shadow, Mira could feel his considering glance and could almost see him raise a brow. “The goblins probably have something they could sell you. They’ve a talent for having what you need before you even know you need it. The more important the thing is, the more they charge for it.”
Mira’s face fell. “Oh. I don’t suppose they’d work out a payment plan?”
“Not one that you’d be able to pay off before you died. And dying while you’re still in debt to a goblin . . .” Changeling didn’t finish the thought; he didn’t need to.
Mira thought back to her piggy bank that had been a little over half full of coins and a few crisp bills only a few days before. Now that she needed the money, she wished she hadn’t been so eager to spend it all on her new calligraphy set and sweets.
“You know,” Changeling said softly, so soft she barely heard him at all, “there’s always me.”
“You?”
“I can be your shadow in the Realm. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“You mean you’re not—I just assumed you—“
“What?” Changeling’s laugh was an old kind of bitter that had been worn smooth along the corners. “That I was solidly myself in the other Realm?”
Mira nodded unhappily. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, and she was sorry she’d said anything about it.
“I have a foot in both Realms, and nothing more. So long as I straddle the place in between, this is all I’ll ever be.”
Unbidden, a thousand questions about her new friend sprang to her mind, and nearly made their way past her lips before she clamped her mouth shut. She’d already managed to hurt him once. She wasn’t going to do it again. She’d ask him later on, once he knew she’d never hurt a friend on purpose, and once she learned how to ask gently enough not to stir old pain.
“It’s fine with me, if it’s fine with you.”
“You’re sure?”
The careful wonder in his voice pricked at her heart. What must it have been like, being trapped between two worlds, all alone?
“I’m sure.” Come what may, she wanted Changeling to know that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“All right. I just need to slip your shadow away . . .”
Without thinking, Mira squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands into fists. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but the cold edge of something burned against her left side for a moment before it went away in a whisper of silk.
“You can open your eyes,” Changeling said, an odd note in his voice that was almost like laughter.
Mira’s eyes flew open in time to see Changeling carefully folding a shimmery black shape that rippled in his hands until it was small enough to fit in the treasure chest he’d made. He closed the lid with a careful thunk, and a shiver of emptiness wound through Mira, leaving her at the edge of drifting and aloft.
“Now, where’s the safest place to put this?” Changeling asked, looking around her room.
“Under my bed,” Mira answered. “My mom won’t notice it under there.”
Judging from her mother’s attitude toward all things magical, she didn’t think her mother would appreciate a splotch of shadow on the carpet that refused to behave like all the other self-respecting shadows. Better to keep out of sight and out of mind.
Changeling grinned at her. “Good thinking.”
Together, they knelt next to the bed. Mira tucked the bedskirt up while Changeling smoothed out the box until it was puddle-like again. Then, ever so gently, he placed it under the bed, smoothing it out so it lay flush against the carpet.
“It’s going to be a tight fit, but I think we’ll manage. The landing might be a bit bumpy though.”
“Landing?” Mira asked as Changeling grabbed her hand and propelled both of them face first into the shadow puddle.
Mira cried out in surprise, but the shadows muffled the sound until it was hardly a sound at all. She put out her arms to protect her face, though she wasn’t sure from what. The shadow was true to its nature, and so inky black that she might have been suspended in the outer reaches of space where even the stars didn’t shine.
The feeling of cold velvet permeated her left side, thickening her heart, and distantly she could hear the sound of a child laughing—a golden sunshine laugh that was all joy and wonder, and utterly at odds with the world of eternal night she found herself drowning in.
No sooner had she thought this, than the world about her stretched itself to its limit, thinning in the process. Then Mira was tumbling head over heels, and falling through the suddenly empty air and landing in a pile of crisp autumn leaves.
“Oof!” The landing jarred her tailbone, but she soon forgot about her aches and pains as the tantalizing scent of leaf mould mixed with the spicy smell that was autumn filled her senses.
Poppet See
The girl had forgotten her.
That’s how she had been made, of course. To be forgotten.
Still, in some undefinable way, it hurt to have been completely forgotten so soon.
Hadn’t she dusted the giant carrier with pink dust that was dark enough to be serious? Hadn’t the girl brushed the dust from her hands, scattering it all over her room in the process?
If only the girl had looked down.
Poppet, the voice of her mistress filled her mind, and for the moment, she was filled with happiness.
I am here, she thought—for her mistress had forgotten to give her a proper mouth, settling instead upon a dab of paint to do the job.
What news have you?
Poppet—was that her name?—thought hard, which was difficult considering she only had a bit of fluff and feathers stuffed into her head.
I am crammed in between the carrier and a book. There is a pink feather that tickles my nose. Did you know that I am ticklish?
A sigh of impatience swept through her head like an autumn gale through a glory of leaves. Do you have any news of the girl? I felt her pass into the Realm not long ago. Where are you?
Poppet squeezed her eyes closed, puckering her mouth until it was little more than a bead of color, so hard did she think. She had already told her mistress where she was, yet her mistress hadn’t been pleased with that information.
I do not know, she thought miserably. She was a poppet. A thing. She had no heart, and yet the heart she didn’t have was breaking at the thought of disappointing her mistress. There had to be something of use she could report.
Find out, her mistress’s voice bit out as hard and sharp as stone. In that moment, the thread of magic connecting them thinned away to almost nothing.
Wait! Poppet thought, panicking at the thought of being alone and forgotten once more.
What is it?
Poppet took a deep breath, determined not to disappoint her mistress again. There is a boy. He helped her come, and he stole her shadow.
Her mistress was silent, but the thread connecting them radiated approval and happiness. Almost immediately, the rend in Poppet’s heart-that-wasn’t mended up until you wouldn’t have known it had been torn in the first place.
Well done, my faithful poppet. Very well done.
Smiling as wide as she could—which wasn’t very wide at all—Poppet settled back against the fabric of the carrier and tried not to mind the way the book dug into her spine or the way her arm was twisted behind her back. She had pleased her mistress, and that was all that mattered.
To be continued . . .
Copyright © 2014 by Danyelle Leafty. All rights reserved.
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