R. Anderson - Rebel

“The Empress doesn’t want your music,” she went on in the same soft, enticing tone. “Why should she, with the finest musician in all Faery as her favorite? But I-”

Timothy frowned. “You mean Rob?”

Veronica’s lips pursed irritably. “Of course I do. Who else? But he can play as well as he likes, whenever he pleases; somehow the Empress gave him that power. Whereas you and I…” Her fingers traced the shape of his ear. “We need to work together.”

Rob, the Empress’s favorite? With a permanent gift of music no other faery possessed? Dread curdled in Timothy’s stomach, but Veronica was still speaking:

“What if we were to make a bargain, you and I? You see, I can’t take your music just now: It’s buried inside you, too deep for me to reach. I need to see the way your fingers move upon the strings, hear you play the melodies that belong to you alone, before I can touch your gift and make it shine. So…”

Her fingers drifted down the bridge of Timothy’s bruised nose. “I will bring you a guitar,” she continued, “and you will play it for me. It will be a performance such as you dreamt of last night, one that could not be surpassed if you lived a thousand years. And then, when I take your music, you will be grateful.”

“Sounds terrific,” said Timothy sardonically. “And once you’ve taken it, how long will it last you? A few days? A week?”

She shrugged, unfazed. “Better than never being able to play at all.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Timothy told her. “Because you know what? That’s what I think, too. Almost anything would be better than not being able to play. So if that’s your idea of a bargain — ”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes widened in an unconvincing attempt at innocence. “That was only your part of it. I haven’t even told you mine. First, I take your music…”

She stopped and glanced back at the door, her expression furtive. “And then?” Timothy prompted.

Veronica leaned toward him until her lips almost brushed his ear. She whispered: “And then I’ll let you go.”

“I have been thinking, Linden of the Oak,” said the Empress, rising from her throne and walking back toward the cage. “Misguided though your attitude to humans may be, you have shown such loyalty toward your fellow faeries as I have seldom seen. You have endured much hardship on your people’s account, with little prospect of reward, and I find that admirable. So…I will make you an offer.”

“Offer?” Linden scrubbed at her burning eyes. “What kind of offer?”

“It is this: If you consent to my terms, I will allow your people to continue living in the Oak as long as it pleases them to do so. I will even send some of my own servants to increase your numbers and make you strong. Your lost magic will be restored, and you will have everything you desire…on three conditions.”

She trailed her fingers around the edge of Linden’s cage, spinning it gently as she talked. “One: The Oakenfolk will all swear fealty to me by each giving me one drop of her blood. Two: You will no longer associate with humans. You will not linger in their company, nor aid them, nor befriend them; none of you will ever again look upon a human with love, nor take a human child and raise it as your own, but will remain true to your own kind. And three: Every faery infant born within the Oak must be brought to me within her first few years of life, that I may assure myself of your children’s loyalty just as I am assured of yours.” She stopped the cage and looked at Linden questioningly. “Is that not generous?”

Linden felt as though her chest was being squeezed between two giant fingers. Her breath came quick and shallow, and a rushing noise filled her ears. Everything the Oakenfolk needed…She had never dreamed the Empress would make such an offer. Of course the terms were not ideal, but if every other hope was gone…She put her head in her hands, overwhelmed. Could she really afford to say no?

“Perhaps you doubt my goodwill,” the Empress said. “But consider: Have I ever done you any real harm? I commanded the Blackwings to capture you, not to kill you, and even the fire I kindled beneath your cage was only illusion-meant to frighten you into telling me the truth, no more. The human boy I have locked away for safekeeping, but…”

“Timothy!” Linden burst out. “Please don’t hurt him. This was all my doing, he doesn’t deserve-”

“Of course not,” said the Empress in a soothing tone. “I assure you, he is unharmed; no one has so much as spoken a harsh word to him. All I wish is to remove his memories of the past few days, so that he cannot betray the secrets of our people. Then I will set him free…just as soon as you accept my terms.”

Linden let out her breath. That didn’t sound too bad. Perhaps Timothy would be happier not remembering Sanctuary, or Veronica, or the dangers and hardships that had followed. And it would be a small price to pay if she could go back to Queen Valerian bringing good news of the Oakenfolk’s deliverance. Surely even Knife would understand…

Knife.

The image of her foster mother flashed through Linden’s mind, and at once she realized how foolish her temptation to give in to the Empress had been. Knife had dared to love a human, and give up her faery heritage for his sake: Her very existence was a denial of the Empress’s creed, and all the Oakenfolk knew it. The only way the Empress could respond to such a threat would be to tear Knife and Paul apart, or else kill them both…

Never.

“Great Gardener, give me courage,” she whispered, and then she stood up straight and faced the Empress. “No,” she said. “You will not have our blood, or our fealty, or the service of our children, and we will not turn our backs on our human friends. If we die, we die. But we will not surrender the Oak to you without a fight.”

The Empress’s face hardened. She smacked the flat of her hand against the cage, sending it swinging high into the air. “It is a fight you will lose,” she snapped, as Linden clung to the bars in dizzy terror. “And when you and your human friend stand before me for judgment, you will both regret that you did not accept my offer. Robin!”

Rob stopped playing at once, set his guitar aside, and looked up at her expectantly.

“Fetch the human boy,” she said. “Bring him to me.”

“As you will, Your Imperial Majesty.” He rose and bowed, then stepped toward the door.

“Oh, and Robin?”

Rob turned, brows lifted in a wordless question.

“Send word to all the faeries in the city that I wish them to attend me at once-and be sure to include your fellow would-be rebels. Clearly, it has been too long since my people witnessed an execution.”

Linden’s heart stuttered. Her eyes flicked toward Rob, silently begging him to do something, say something, to reassure her he was on their side. If he hesitated or looked troubled, even for an instant But the only thing that crossed Rob’s face was a smile. “Of course, my Empress,” he said, and went out.

“I don’t believe you,” Timothy told Veronica flatly, though his pulse was galloping. “After the Empress went to all this trouble to capture me, you really think she won’t mind if you just let me go?”

“Of course she would mind,” Veronica said with a roll of her eyes that made her look almost human. “If she knew I was doing it. But you are going to escape all by yourself-or so it will appear. Look.” She unzipped the front pocket of her fitted jacket and pulled out a small brown envelope. Opening the flap carefully with her long fingernails, she shook out a loop of leather cord and then used it to draw out the rest of the packet’s contents.

It was a cross, formed from two square-edged nails bound together with copper wire. The thong went through a loop at the top of the cross, so it could be worn as a necklace.