Fingering the acorn in my pocket, I think of the whisper of the oak tree, that memory of summer days, and how its roots threw me over. ‘Is his tree still alive?’
‘It’s in the forest,’ she says. ‘It’s an oak, still young.’ She sighs, and her sadness looms over us both.
‘I think I saw it,’ I say.
‘Perhaps you did.’ She shakes her head. ‘They can survive without us far better than we can live without them. But for now, have you not had enough adventure?’
‘No! I’ve hardly begun, Nan! We should live in the forest. We should drop all this glamour and go in there and fight with the rest of them. I want to know who I am! I don’t even look fae . . . What about wings – and horns?’
‘Wings and horns!’ she exclaims. ‘As to that, you can thank me. You don’t have to use your own glamour to go into the town, or to school, because I did it for you years ago.’
‘But what am I, underneath all of your glamour? What do I have that you have hidden?’
‘I forget.’
‘NAN! How can you forget?’
‘All of my energy is spent on the here and now, Stella! You will come into your magic, and when you do, the glamour will fall. That is always how I intended it. I . . .’ For a second, she looks utterly lost. ‘There are many choices in raising a child. I can’t say I’ve always made the right one.’
‘It’s terrible in the forest,’ I say after a while, when the fire is low, and Peg is ‘awake’ again. I’ve decided to tell them both a bit about Yanny and his family, and as I do, I feel again the gnawing worry that showed in his parents’ eyes.
‘And their wings – his parents’ wings – are faded and all folded away. And the kids’ wings are like shadows – like they’re not really there at all.’
Nan considers, her face drawn with tiredness. If I demand too much of her, will she leave? I know she wouldn’t mean to, but if she gets too thin, would she just disappear?
‘I suppose it may be part of the shadow curse. Since the shadows took over, there is little light, little to eat. They have always concealed them, of course, when they’re glamouring, but in their own world . . . I don’t know, Stella. I can’t fix it all . . .’ She stares at me. ‘And you’re still so young. I wanted to protect you from it. Who knows what you’ve set off now. You should’ve just stayed away. I was charged with bringing you up safely.’ She says it almost to herself. ‘I tried to find the palace. For years, I dragged you in there. I thought that if we found him, we could wake him to reality, but I saw how much it took from you – how strong the shadows were around you. Your presence made it worse. We had to stay away. And now you go walking right into their lair!’
‘Maybe . . . it’s time,’ I say, keeping my voice low.
She winces. ‘You’re still a child.’
‘What does that mean? That I’m powerless? You know that’s not true, Nan.’
‘But you don’t know enough. You aren’t strong enough.’
‘So I’ll keep going to school – to learn. And to have friends.’
‘You’ll stay away from the forest? Please, Stella – promise me you’ll stay away. You may be right; the time may be drawing closer. But looking at you now, I don’t think it’s here yet.’ She fixes her gaze on me. ‘I don’t think you’re ready to face your father. Memories are wonderful things, they are precious, but he is not the same fae king that you have in your mind. He changed, Stella, more completely than I have ever seen any creature change. You must be ware of him, and of that stag shadow of his. Will you hear me, Stella? Will you be ware? Have your school, have your friends, but don’t let them know you’re the child of the Shadow King – and stay away from that forest!’
I look down at myself. Covered in mud and bits of bramble, my hands shaking, my stomach a horrible, empty dark place where fears have gathered deep as shadows. I don’t know how to fight them, yet. I don’t even know how to keep from falling on my face in there.
‘Do you think they’d hate me if they knew who I was?’
‘They wouldn’t hate you,’ Nan says, drawing closer. ‘They don’t know you, Stella. They don’t know my lovely girl, for all that she is. But they might be unwelcoming. Until you are strong in your power, all you’ll be is a reminder of him.’
‘I’ll stay away for now,’ I whisper, closing my eyes and seeing flashes of monstrous teeth and claws.
When I open my eyes, she’s gone. I stand up and dig my hands into my pocket and draw out the golden acorn. It’s almost identical to my own silver one. I bring the chain out from under my shirt and hold them side by side. There’s a twist in the air, and they snap together. The gold one disappears, and when I hold the silver one up to the light, I can see new gold strands, a fine lace of them at the top of the acorn.
‘Well look at that!’ Peg whistles. ‘Your mother’s acorn – how did you find it?’
‘I think it found me,’ I say in a whisper. ‘I got tripped up by a tree – my father’s oak – and . . . there it was on the ground. I didn’t know it was out there to find. Did you know it was out there, Peg? Why didn’t you say anything? What does it mean?’
‘Couldn’t. Not my place. And what would you have done, anyway? It came to you when the time was right, as these things do. You’re only just big enough to discover these things now.’
‘I’ve been bigger than you for years!’
‘That’s on the outside,’ he sniffs. ‘I’m talking about the inside.’
Glitter-skinned and solid as the oak in form and quiet determination, the troll is a peaceful creature, known for its wisdom more than for its fight. It has strong, powerful wings, but it rarely uses them, for the motion causes great upheaval. In dire circumstances, however, there is no better creature to have on your side. The troll is a cunning strategist and not afraid to use all that he has, if only the cause is great enough.
17
Mr Flint, with his sweeping, glittering wings, is in a temper, his eyes glowing like coals. In fae ethics, everyone gets very intense about fae politics and the situation in the forest, and I try to keep my head down, but today’s lesson seems to be mostly about instilling fear, and Mr Flint is very good at that.
‘You are here to learn how to assimilate yourselves, not because it’s a party out there in the human world . . .’ He catches a couple of the kids chatting and raises his voice. ‘But because your own world is a battleground. So you will learn to assimilate. You will learn to hide your magic with your glamour. And you will go out there, and you will make a difference!’
‘And leave our families in Winterspell?’ Tash demands. ‘And do what? I don’t want to assimilate. There is nothing I need from the human world!’ She flashes her silver teeth.
‘Silly girl,’ he growls. ‘You need to survive. You need to learn how their world works so that you can help your family, and everybody who will remain in the forest. You have a choice! Not all do. The centaurs, the goblins, many of my troll brethren – they do not have the ability to glamour. They need the forest to remain. You must help to influence others in that vein.’