That’s why she’s a keeper at The Fauna Tower. I’m not gonna pry more about her parents, but I can respect what she does, too.
Speaking of family… “Cerulean’s brothers,” I hazard. “He said they’re brethren, bound by history instead of blood. None of that’s in the Book of Fables.”
So what else don’t we know about the Three? I’ve learned scores about Cerulean, yet I’ve got nothing on the other two rulers. I leave the comment open, hoping she’ll lap up my ignorance with a hefty dose of snobbery.
Moth doesn’t disappoint. “Whereas Cerulean favors a complex game, Puck favors a merry party.”
“Like the Middle Moon masquerade?”
“Worse.”
“All right, let’s get this out of the way. Murkiness isn’t gonna work on me, so wipe that gleam off your face.”
“If it weren’t working, you wouldn’t be telling me it’s not working.”
Dammit. But there’s a jauntiness to her tone that I appreciate. It reminds me of bantering with my sisters, partly in jest, partly out of spite.
Moth explains, “Puck’s got a lively thirst for hedonism.”
I cringe, because I’ve known my share of wankers like that. But Juniper hasn’t. Her flinty demeanor could neuter a randy boar, and her experience with lecherous chaps amounts to zero. She claims that humping is unproductive, and she doesn’t have the time for “hobbies.”
“And,” Moth continues, “what’s there to say about Elixir? He’s as majestic as he is venomous. He doesn’t favor games or parties. He merely strikes.”
Son of a bitch. Cove may wield a spear like nobody’s business, but she’s too sweet for the likes of a brute. Her love of sea creatures aside, she wouldn’t recognize that sort of viper if it wiggled a forked tongue in her face.
And Juniper has that trade poacher tattoo, a fact that turns my stomach. The marking won’t do her any favors in The Solitary Forest, if she doesn’t keep it hidden. If any of the woodland Faeries discover it…if Puck finds out about it…
Do not let him see your tattoo.
Those were Cove’s last words to Juniper.
What are my sisters staring at right now? What are they being forced to do?
None of this is fair. But none of this is completely out of our hands, and I know better than to give Juniper and Cove less credit. My no-nonsense sister learned how to wield her crossbow from the poachers who nabbed her off the streets, whereas Cove and I are self-taught in weaponry. We survived as foundlings, and we’ve thrived as a family. They’re resilient, and I’d be lost without them.
I draw up my chest. “Worrying about my sisters isn’t going to keep ’em safe. I’ve gotta do my part.”
Moth examines my profile. “What part is that?”
What do I tell her? How will she react?
There’s nothing else for it. “I need to know what I’m up against,” I say simply, then scoot across the branch and climb down the tree. I hop onto the exposed roots and head toward the winding lane blanketed in torchlight.
“Wait.” Her voice wrings around my ankles and yanks my feet to a standstill. “Are you going to ask me for a favor or not?”
I whirl on Moth. Her deadpan expression puts me on the offensive. Does she know what I’ve got in mind for tonight? Why would she help me?
“Depends on what it’ll cost,” I hint.
After a moment’s thought, Moth flutters to the ground. “Call it a gift, freely given.”
I cackle without humor. “There’s no such thing here.”
“I agree.” Up close, her topaz eyes probe mine, and her features loosen. “But I think there’s a reason his flute didn’t work on you. And I know Cerulean. I see the way he looks at you, which is the same maudlin way you look at him. Besides, we Faeries enjoy the unexpected, so this will cure my boredom.”
It’s a right foolhardy idea, conspiring with her. Yet after what she said, my defenses crumble. Her parents were tailors, after all.
I buck myself up. “I might need something to wear.”
