Fen sighs. ‘I’ll make us a hot drink.’ He looks across at Zara and me. ‘And then we’ll see about getting your friends home.’
‘Stella – and this is Zara, if I’m not mistaken?’ asks Elowen.
Zara can do no more than nod.
‘We just wanted to make sure he was safe,’ I start. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble . . .’
‘Perhaps you didn’t,’ says Elowen. ‘And I am glad my boy has friends, truly. Glad that he is home safe.’ She gives us a bleak, pointed smile. ‘But if Rory tells you that you draw the shadows, Stella, then she does not lie. You should stay away, for now. And so should Zara.’
‘What could the shadows do, though?’ Zara asks. ‘Won’t they just . . . go away?’
‘Sadly not.’ Elowen sighs. ‘I’ll leave you to explain the dangers of the shadows, Yanny. Your father and I must get ready for patrol. We will see your friends out on our way.’
‘What’s going on?’ Zara asks later, after Fen has brought steaming mugs to the table and left to get ready. ‘Yanny? What is it that you’ve lost? What’s going on here? What is so dangerous about the shadows?’
He wilts a little in his seat.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers. ‘I know I ask too many questions. Dad always says—’
‘We lost my sister, two years ago,’ he says. ‘That’s what we lost. We lost Thorn.’
‘Oh, Yanny,’ I manage, shuffling up close to him as Zara does the same on the other side, trying to find words and failing.
‘What happened?’ asks Zara after a long silence.
‘She got ill,’ he says. ‘We thought it was just a cold, but it got worse so quickly, and nobody could help. By the time we realized it was shadow sickness, it was too late.’
‘Shadow sickness?’
‘It spreads,’ he says. ‘It starts in the trees, when they don’t get enough light, and from there it spreads to the fae and the other creatures. Nothing survives without the trees. Thorn loved playing in the canopy. We weren’t supposed to because it’s hard to tell when a tree is sick from up there. We only noticed it afterwards – and by then, it was too late.’
‘Isn’t there a cure?’
‘No. Sometimes people recover,’ he says. ‘But when we discovered the tree, it was already dead.’ He looks out into the kitchen, but his eyes aren’t seeing anything there. ‘Dead trees are like poison to fae, especially when they’ve died because of the shadows,’ he says. ‘The tree sprites are quick to notice normally, but it was just a young elm, not bonded with any of the sprites. It was already dying when Thorn touched it.’ He lifts his shoulders. ‘So. Now you know.’
My father’s shadows killed his sister.
How would he even look at me if he knew what I really was? If he knew that maybe I could have fixed this years ago, if Nan and I had just kept going . . .
‘Stop that,’ Yanny snaps at me.
‘What?’
‘That look. Every time I mention shadows, you get all mournful and sorry. Did you bring them here? Did you make them? Did you send them to kill trees, and young fae?’
My throat is tight with a river of tears, but I swallow them.
‘No.’
‘So stop it.’ He sighs, shoving his shoulder against mine. ‘Please.’
‘OK,’ I say, biting my lip to stop myself from saying sorry again.
Zara looks from him to me, but even she doesn’t have the right words. She just shoves herself up closer to Yanny on the other side and tucks her arm through his.
Zara and I hold hands through the forest on the way home, and though we are flanked by Yanny’s parents with their faelights, there’s a constant shudder down my spine that won’t let me rest. I stare into the darkness between the trees, and I stare at the trees themselves for signs they might be sick.
How would I know?
I am fae, and I know barely anything. I don’t know what to say to this fierce, bright couple as they stalk soundlessly through the undergrowth, their eyes flecked with amber, every muscle of their bodies ready to strike and defend. To protect us.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper to Elowen, as we reach the edge of the forest.
She looks at me for a long, silent moment, and my breath sticks in my throat. Nan told me the fae were dangerous. I thought she meant wild, and keen to fight, and there is some of that in her – but there is more. There is something so true and stark about her, especially here. Her skin gleams beneath the moon, her stance knows the land better than I know anything, her folded wings flicker with bright copper threads, and her stare sees everything.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘Thank you, Stella. Now go – and don’t come back until it’s time.’
20
‘Oh, Stella!’ Zara halts as we emerge from the trees, looking back at the forest. ‘What is going on? I never saw anything so magical, but that awful sadness . . . And Elowen – what did she mean when she said that to you? Time for what? And what was Yanny going on about, it’s not your fault. How could it be your fault?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, threading my arm through hers and pulling her back with me, Teacake now tucked under my other arm. ‘I don’t know what to think about any of it.’
My mind is sparking with too many images, too many ideas of fight and flight and shadow creatures and the monster who is my father, hidden away in there. I always hoped that if I did go in there, if I made it past the shadows to the true fae, that it would be a good thing. That my magic would be stronger, brighter than his; that it would be my mother’s moon-sprite power that would shine through. But that didn’t happen.
I draw the shadows to me, just as my father does.
‘But we have to think about it. What do we do, Stella?’
I’ve never seen her so animated. She looks like she might charge back in there and fight the shadows herself if I just said the word. Or run away entirely in the other direction. Her feet are almost stamping with impatience just to do something.
‘Well?’
‘OK. We’ll have to make a plan!’
‘Yes!’ she shouts. ‘A plan! Yes!’
I have to go back in there. If I can draw the shadows to me, it must be possible to send them back where they belong. I am the Lost Prince, after all.
A strange high peal of laughter escapes me and rings out through the moorland. Zara stares at me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I stutter. ‘I know it’s not funny. None of this is funny. It’s not funny, Zara! We just need to calm down a bit! Stop shouting!’
‘You stop shouting!’
‘OK!’
And then suddenly it’s clear what I have to do next: I have to find him.
I have to find the palace, and I have to find the Shadow King.
I have to take the shadows with me – and make it all stop.
‘Children,’ says a dark, disapproving voice. Peg flutters down and lands hard on my shoulder. ‘What a fine chorus you are making out here in the wild. I’ve been out here waiting for you. Come, now. Nan has been worried sick, and it’s time for Zara to get home before her folks are the same.’
But Zara is staring with horror towards our house, her feet unmoving.
‘What is it?’ I demand.
She points to the scrubby narrow lane on the other side of the house. A shining silver car has been parked in a hurry, front wheels at an angle. We have a visitor, and it’s not Mrs Mandrake – she’d never let go of her ancient once-was-blue truck.