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Holly Black

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“Oak puts a hand on my arm. I startle. 'You all right?' he asks. 'When they first took me from the mortal world to the Court of Teeth, Lord Jarel and Lady Nore tried to be nice to me. They gave me good things to eat and dressed me in fancy dresses and told me that I was their princess and would be a beautiful and beloved queen,' I tell him, the words slipping from my lips before I can call them back. I occupy myself with searching deeper in the closet so I don't have to see his face as I speak. 'I cried constantly, ceaselessly. For a week, I wept and wept until they could bear it no more.' Oak is silent. Though he knew me as a child, he never knew me as that child, the one who still believed the world could be kind. But then, he had sisters who were stolen. Perhaps they had cried, too. 'Lord Jarel and Lady Nore told their servants to enchant me to sleep, and the servants did. But it never lasted. I kept weeping.' He nods, just a little, as though more movement might break the spell of my speaking. 'Lord Jarel came to me with a beautiful glass dish in which there was flavoured ice,' I tell him. 'When I took a bite, the flavour was indescribably delicious. It was as though I were eating dreams.' 'You will have this every day if you cease you're crying,' he said. 'But I couldn't stop. 'Then he came to me with a necklace of diamonds, as cold and beautiful as ice. When I put it on, my eyes shone, my hair sparkled, and my skin shimmered as though glitter had been poured over it. I looked wondrously beautiful. But when he told me to stop crying, I couldn't. 'Then he became angry, and he told me that if I didn't stop, he would turn my tears to glass that would cut my cheeks. And that's what he did. 'But I cried until it was hard to tell the difference between tears and blood. And after that, I began to teach myself how to break their curses. They didn't like that. 'And so they told me I would be able to see the humans again- that's what they called them, the humans- in a year, for a visit, but only if I was good. 'I tried. I choked back tears. And on the wall beside my bed, I scratched the number of days in the ice. 'One night I returned to my room to find the scratches weren't the way I remembered. I was sure it had been five months, but the scratches made it seem as though it had been only a little more than three. 'And that was when I realised I was never going home, but by then the tears wouldn't come, no matter how much I willed them. And I never cried again.' His eyes shone with horror.”

“He also says you fall in love a lot.' That surprises a laugh out of him, although he doesn't deny any of it. 'There are certain expectations of a prince in Court.' 'You cannot be serious,' I say. 'You feel obliged to be in love?' 'I told you- I am a courtier, versed in all the courtly arts.' He's grinning as he says it, though, acknowledging the absurdity of the statement. I find myself shaking my head and grinning, too. He's being ridiculous, but I am not sure how ridiculous. 'I do have a bad habit, he says. 'Of falling in love. With great regularity and to spectacular effect. You see, it never goes well.' I wonder if this conversation makes him think of our kiss, but then, I was the one who kissed him. He'd only kissed back. 'As charming as you are, how can that be?' I say. He laughs again. 'That's what my sister Taryn always says. She tells me that I remind her of her late husband. Which makes some sense, since I would have been his half brother. But it's also alarming, because she's the one who murdered him.' Much as when he spoke about Madoc, it's strange how fond oak can sound when he tells me a horrifying thing a member of his family has done.”

“You like games,' I tell him. 'How about we play one?' 'What's the wager?' 'If I win,' I say, 'You answer my question. Without evasion.' Nothing about the way he looks at me suggests that he does not consider these to be large stakes. Still, he nods. 'And what is the game?' 'You have the piece. Just as when we were children, let's see which of us throws better.' He nods again, taking it from his pocket. The peridot eyes glimmer. 'And if I win?' 'What do you want?' I ask. He studies me and I study him in return. No smile now can disguise the steel underneath. 'You promise to dance with me so that our practice back in the Court of Moths won't be for nothing.' 'Those are absurd stakes,' I tell him, my cheeks hot. 'And yet they are mine,' he says.”

“My sister thinks that she's the only one who can take poison, but I am poison,' he whispers, eyes half-closed, talking to himself. 'Poison in my blood. I poison everything I touch.' That's such a strange thing to hear him say. Everyone adores him. And yet, I recall him running away at thirteen, sure so many things were his fault.”

“He talked about you,' Tiernan says. I feel like an animal after all, one that's been baited in its den. I both dread and desire him to keep talking. 'What did he say?' 'That you didn't like him.' He gives me an evaluating look. 'I thought maybe you'd had a falling-out when you were younger. But I think you do like him. You just don't want him to know it.' The truth of that hurts. I grind my sharp teeth together. 'The prince is a flatterer. And a charmer. And a wormer around things,' Tiernan informs me, entirely unnecessarily. 'That makes it harder for him to be believed when he has something sincere to say. But no one would ever accuse me of being a flatterer...”

“I should never have asked you to come back here.' 'Just don't leave me behind,' I say, feeling immensely vulnerable. 'That's what I want, for the game I won all those years ago.' 'I promise you,' he says. 'If it is within my power, we leave together.' I nod. 'We will find the reliquary and ruin her,' I tell him. 'And then I will never come back.”

“Do you think he will protect you now? You're useless. The heir to Elfhame has no reason to spend any further time with an untutored savage of a girl. But think, you wouldn't remember him. You wouldn't even have to remember yourself.' 'I'm not half as practical as you suppose,' Oak says. 'I like many useless things. I've been called useless myself from time to time.”

“Only to see Oak, the heir to Elfhame, standing in a clearing. All my memories of him were of a merry young boy. But he'd become tall and rawboned, in the manner of children who have grown suddenly and too fast. When he moved, it was with coltish uncertainty, as though not used to his body. He would be thirteen. And he had no reason to be in my woods.”

“You think because you've got that good royal blood in you, you're better than us,' says the ogre, pressing one long fingernail against the prince's shoulder. 'Maybe you are. Only way to be sure is to have a taste.' There's a drunken wobble to Oak's movements as he pushes off the ogre's hand and obvious contempt in his voice. 'The difference in flavour would be too subtle for your palate.”

“How will they sell rubies?' I ask him. 'Why not leave them something more practical?' 'As a prince of Faerie, I flatly refuse to leave cash. It's inelegant.' Tiernan shakes his head at both of us, then pokes at the foodstuffs selecting a handful of nuts. 'Gift cards are worse,' Oak says when I do not respond. 'I would bring shame to the entire Greenbriar line if I left a gift card.' At that, I can't help smiling a little, despite my heavy heart. 'You're ridiculous.”

“We learned something of her capabilities.' 'And you want me to tell you that was worth you being poisoned?' the knight demands. 'I'm always being poisoned. Alas, that it wasn't blusher mushroom,' the prince said nonsensically. Tiernan nods his chin at me. 'That girl thinks you're a fool for even being here.' I scowl, because that's not what I meant. 'Ah, Lady Wren,' Oak says, a lazy smile on his mouth. Marigold hair brushing his forehead, half-hiding his horns. 'You wound me.”

“You have an unusual voice,' he says. 'Raspy. Quite fetching, really.' 'I damaged my vocal cords a long time ago,' I inform him. 'Screaming.' Oak steps between us, and I am grateful for the reprieve. 'What a fine gentleman you make, Jack.' Jack turns to the prince, his sinister smile dropped back into place. 'Oak and Wren, Wren and Oak. Delightful. Named for woodland creatures, but neither of you so simple.' He glances at Tiernan and Hyacinthe. 'Not nearly as simple as these two.”

“Once, the thing I am wearing was a sundress, with fluttery sleeves. A diaphanous white gown that flowed around me when I spun. I found it in a shop late one night. I'd stripped off the clothes given to me in the Court of Teeth, left them behind, and put them on instead. I liked the dress so much that I wove myself a crown of hellebores and danced through the night streets. I stared at myself in puddles, convinced that so long as I didn't smile, I might even be pretty. I know it doesn't look like that anymore, but I can no longer picture myself in anything else. I wish Oak could have seen the dress as it was, even though it hasn't looked that way in a long time.”

“I stomp back through the hall to my room and swing open the door, only to find Oak lounging in one of the chairs, his long limbs spread out in shameless comfort. A flower crown of myrtle rests just above his horns. With it, he wears a new shirt of white linen and scarlet trousers embroidered with vines. Even his hooves appear polished. He looks every bit the handsome faerie prince, beloved by everyone and everything. Rabbits probably eat from his hands. Blue jays try to feed him worms meant for their own children.”

“Wren, you have plenty of reasons not to trust me right now, but I do intend to stop Lady Nore. And I believe we can. Though I plan on bringing back Madoc, we will still have gone a deed no one can deny was of service to Elfhame. Whatever trouble I will be in, you'll be a hero.' I am not sure anyone has considered me that, not even the people I've saved. 'And if I decide to part ways? Are you going to tie my hands and drag me along with you?' He looks at me with trickster eyes beneath arched golden brows. 'Not unless you scratch me again.' 'Why do you want to help him?' I ask. Madoc had been willing to use Oak as a path to power, at the least. 'He's my father,' he says, as though that should be enough.”

“Behind the abandoned house, two faerie horses chew on dandelions as they wait for their riders. Slight as deer, with a soft halo of light surrounding their bodies, they glide between the trees like ghosts. Oak goes to the first. Her coat a soft grey, her mane braided into something that looks like netting, and which is hung with gold beads. Tooled leather saddlebags rest against her flanks. She nuzzles into his hand.”

“At seventeen, he has grown tall, towering over me, lithe and finely muscled. His hair catches the moonlight, warm gold threaded with platinum, bangs parting around small goat horns, eyes of shocking amber, and a constellation of freckles across his nose. He has a trickster's mouth and the swagger of someone used to people doing what he wanted.”