Charlotte held out her hand and James helped her rise from the chair into a standing position. Her uncle may have taken away her ability to walk, but she wasn’t about to sit as she was sacrificed. James understood this. His arms wrapped around her in protection, love, and support as she leaned heavily on him and they moved until she stood on the grass.
Tilting her head up, she kissed him one last time, savoring his sweetness. “Remember, James,” she whispered. “The best way to remember me is to live your life— and make sure Noli lives hers as well. I don’t want to be mourned.”
“I’ll keep my promise.” His whisper broke.
“That’s all I ask.” With one last look at her love, at her dear friends Noli and V, her eyes closed. The crowd hushed at the sound of heavy footsteps. James’ arms tightened around her. She felt a prick at her throat and gasped, but it didn’t hurt, and she didn’t open her eyes. Charlotte knew that the huntsman would slit her throat and her blood would spill to the ground, enabling the people of the otherworld to live for seven more years.
“I love you, Charlotte,” James whispered. She felt him lower her to the grass as she grew dizzy and weak. “I love you so much.”
That was all she needed to hear and she drifted off into happy nothingness.
Kevighn Silver slumped over the wooden table he occupied at a seedy air terminal bar. Where was he? Chicago? Atlanta? He wasn’t even sure. Since he’d been exiled from the Otherworld he’d drifted from place to place in the mortal realm, spending most of it drunk, in an opium haze, or in the bed of yet another strange woman. Eventually, he should get a job, since he was nearly out of money. He was a decent gunner. Those were always needed on airships—both the respectable and disreputable sort.
He picked up his glass of substandard rum and took a drink. Around him the magic shifted with such force rum sloshed over the side of the glass onto the scarred wooden table. A shift of this magnitude at this point in time could only mean one thing. The sacrifice was complete. Banishing him hadn’t negated his abilities.
Hopefully the Spark ran strong enough in her to satiate the magic until the next cycle so they didn’t encounter all the problems they’d endured during this one. That redhead had glowed with the Spark, not as brightly as Magnolia, but enough to cause the magic to stabilize.
Magnolia. Was she there in the arms of her earth court prince, watching as the blood drained from her friend?
Yes, Magnolia would be there. Magnolia would cry.
He pounded his fist on the battered table and sighed, raking his hand through his unkempt hair. She should be with him, not that whelp of a prince.
At least she hadn’t been the sacrifice.
Kevighn raised his glass of rum and drained it, toasting the memory of the redheaded girl who gave her life so Magnolia didn’t have to.
One
Jeffrey Returns
Moving the basket to her elbow, Magnolia Braddock climbed up the trunk of the crooked oak in her backyard, the familiar bark rough under her hands. In a flurry of blue skirts, she hoisted herself, basket and all, into the tree house her father had helped her and V build so long ago. Her mother didn’t like that Noli, a nearly grown woman of sixteen, spent so much time in it.
Most of the mishmash of the bits and pieces composing the little house, the cogs and gears, discarded wood, pieces of brass, and other things, had been carted home by her, V, and James. Each piece held a story. Her hand caressed a piece of brass she and V had taken from an abandoned building. The tree house was no longer big enough for her to stand in. Memories, especially of her father, comprised this place as much as all the random bits of things. Nearly seven years ago Henry Winston Braddock had disappeared in San Francisco and Noli still clung to the fragile hope that one day he’d return to Los Angeles and they’d be a family once again.
Charlotte’s red braid, which she’d carefully sectioned, wrapped in thread, and boiled, hung from a makeshift line inside the tree house. Here it could dry safely away from her mother’s eyes so she wouldn’t have to explain Charlotte. Mama had no idea the Otherworld existed or that due to an ill-worded bargain Noli wasn’t mortal anymore. She had no idea that if Charlotte hadn’t died Noli would have. Nor did she know how much James mourned her.
Right now her mother toiled in the dress shop dealing with the holiday rush, making gowns for the very people who’d once been their social equals, completely unaware that faeries even existed. All that mattered to her was keeping up with appearances the best she could.
Ever since Noli returned from Findlay House, from her stay in the Otherworld, things had changed. Her mother had decided that since she now looked the lady, her hoyden ways supposedly “cured” by that dreadful school, that she would now become one. That meant a return to the parties, teas, and social events she’d hated even when they’d been moneyed and respected. Fixing cars or working in the garden was always preferable to balls.
The now-dry skeins of hair went in the basket. She’d weave them into a watch chain for James. This way he could carry a piece of her wherever he went.
Let’s prune the roses, the sprite suggested.
It was hard not to sigh. When the queen had taken away Noli’s mortality, she’d turned her into a sprite. Well, sort of. V and James had done something, preventing her from losing all of herself during the transformation. However, she was left with the body and abilities of a sprite and a sprite sharing the space in her head. Calling it awkward was an understatement.
The roses did need pruning, and the beautiful Los Angeles fall day called to her. Later. We have other things to do before Mama returns from the shop. Like washing dishes, fixing the upstairs shutters, and adjusting the steam-powered sewing machine she’d made for her mother to make dressmaking faster.
The sprite mentally pouted. Really, Noli would rather prune roses than wash dishes. Every day it became increasingly difficult to keep the sprite from taking over completely. Some days resisting the sprite grew physically painful. Not to mention being a sprite made some things harder—like thinking.
You think too much, the sprite piped up.
Ugh. She pushed the sprite back into her mental closet. The last thing she wanted was for the sprite to take over—then she’d never get her chores done.
Across the yard, V’s window in the Darrow residence next door remained dark. An entire day and V still hadn’t returned from the Otherworld. Worry consumed her, especially since she knew why the queen had asked to meet with her best friend and beau. He owed the High Queen a favor, the price of the bargain which had freed Noli from the Otherworld and caused her current sprite predicament. Hopefully, he’d fare well.
Noli climbed down the bent oak, basket on her arm. The soft whirr of a solar-powered hoverboard echoed behind her.
“Very funny, James.” As much as she loved to hoverboard, they were one-person conveyances, so legally women couldn’t fly them. Since she couldn’t afford any more brushes with the law, when James and V went off on their hoverboards, she stayed behind.
Well, most of the time.
“Is James a suitor I need to rough up?” a very different, but still familiar, voice joked.
Noli hopped to the ground and turned just as her brother’s hoverboard touched down on the grass next to her tree. He pulled off his brass goggles, which were in need of a shine.