“I am tired,” the Fairy Queen said. “Tired of things being stolen that once were mine. The Rose was never meant to remain in the Fourth. It was taken from me years ago by Ambrose’s grandfather. When I at last discovered its whereabouts, I ventured to reclaim it. But the countess placed an alternative. She was aware of my identity, though she would not divulge the source of her information.”
Once Upon a Reflection. Tide’s mother kept the book in her archives for who knows how long. I’ll bet my favorite pair of Gucci shoes, if I ever see them again, the book was Ambrose’s source.
“The Siren held my identity over my head as blackmail. We shared a Kiss of Accord. She swore not to breathe a word of my nature, and I promised never to come for the Rose.”
I eyed her. Clever woman. Ambrose didn’t actually tell us Isabeau is the Fairy Queen and original Verity’s vessel. She only aided us in coming to the conclusion on our own. And my mother? She sent Joshua to capture the flower. Both broke their promises while technically never breaking them at all.
“Why do you care so much about who knows what you are?” Even as I asked the question, the answer was clear.
“The same reason you do not wish for your friends to know what you are. Other, special, more powerful than their mortal minds can comprehend. I once made the mistake of allowing others to see my true self. And it cost me more than the control over them was worth.” She messed with her thinning hair, pulling some forward to make it appear fuller. “You are going to make me a promise too, dear.”
She had to be dreaming. My lips weren’t going anywhere near her hand.
“Oh yes, you will. Because, though you are the spawn of a wretched man, I also know, deep down, you desire to do good. You will fail, of course, but you do try.”
Try, my derriere. Failing is not a category in this scenario. I’ll save Tide and Khloe and Stormy. I’ll find her wretched trinket and use what I’ve learned to help end the Void. Boo and yah. How’s that for trying?
I jump up and rip El’s sheets off her bed. “Ugh!” A pillow goes flying. Not here either. Where did she put it?
“I am aware of far more than you realize.” Rising from her chair, my mother crossed to her boudoir. “You know about the Garden. Jonathan is a good little spy, you see. Told me all about how the Countess gave you a book from her library. Once Upon a Reflection, was it?”
She thinks she knows everything, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know we’re going to stop her from becoming the monster she is today. If the Void never was, neither was she. There will only be the Verity in the end. I may not exist, but the others will survive. They’ll go on. All that matters, far as I’m concerned.
“You needn’t speak,” she said. “But I know. I know you and your friends are aware of what I am. Of who I am. But what you don’t know is our goal is one and the same. I do not relish the Void’s existence any more than you do.”
I kneel beside the bed. Rest my head against the mattress edge. How could El sleep on a twin? This thing is tiny. I twist and open each dresser drawer, moving clothes aside and—there. Yes. Here it is, tossed aside like a generic something or other. I stuff it in the satchel my mother provided, tromp out of the room and back down the stairs. I lock the door, hide the key. As I head in the direction of Central Park, my mother’s words continue to berate me.
“I want the Void done for as much as anyone else.” Her eyebrows became the focus. She tweezed and brushed, forcing each hair into perfect, proper place. “We are all on the same team. My methods are a bit unconventional, I will admit. Which is why I need my mirrorglass crown returned. And I expect you know just where to find it.” She caught my eye in her reflection, but then her gaze returned to herself, always the main attraction in any case.
I hug the satchel to my side. The naked trees seem to taunt me. Their branches are talons and I’m about to be ensnared. I don’t know the backstory behind how the crown ended up with the Second’s ruler, and I don’t really care. Tide, Khloe, and Stormy? They’re what matters. Not some diadem. It’s a thing. A charm. Let the Fairy Queen have her prize. I don’t believe a word she says. She wants the Void extinguished? Not buying it.
The way back to what I’ll refer to as her lair is a slice of pie. Now that I know a hidden cavern lies beneath Bethesda Fountain, Central Park will never be the same. It’s not too busy, which is nice for me. What’s not nice, however, is the frigid air numbing my bones to icicles.
A salted sidewalk clears my path, snowdrifts plowed off to one side. I make a beeline for the terrace. I know the way well enough. El had a sort of fascination with the Park. To me it was just another outdoor venue, complete with dirt and leaves and animal droppings people so conveniently forgot to pick up. I’d much rather spend a day at the museum or culinary institute, but whatever. Our time spent here did me some good. For starters, I’m not lost. And I don’t even have my GPS. Score one, Ebony.
I cross the intersection into the Park without waiting for the Walk signal. Horns are like “what the bleep?” as cars and taxis slow. So sorry to inconvenience you, but this is an emergency. Excuse me if I don’t stand by for Mr. Walk Light.
The path past the Lake is the quickest route. I dodge weirdos sporting every fashion and beauty trend you can think of. From wavy eyebrows to glitter beards, New York has it all and then some. Call me old-fashioned, but I think I’ll keep my natural brows. And Tide had better not grow a beard and sprinkle it with glitter. For that matter, if he starts pulling his hair back into a man bun, we’re going to have problems. Thank the Fairies the other Reflections don’t seem to go too crazy with jumping on the trend wagon.
When at last I reach Bethesda Fountain and the terrace, I pause. The angel statue seems to look down on me, though I can’t tell if she’s meant to guard or condemn. Her hollow eyes almost look angry. I feel like her outstretched hand is pointing at me, telling me to stop, wait, don’t give Isabeau the crown.
I have to give her the crown.
Just across from the fountain, a terrace waits. The passage beneath leads tourists through arches and into a colorful, tiled tunnel. Night falls, marking the end of day three since my sister’s vanishing act, and the lights in the tunnel bounce off the ceiling. If I look up I can almost see my reflection there. But I don’t look up. No time for sightseeing, Eb. This isn’t one of my missions for Jasyn, though stalling helps me think. I know my mother won’t harm them as long as I possess what she desires. But the second I hand it over, that’s when all bets are off.
The façade within one of the tiled arches is easy to find for those who know where to look. I pass through it with ease, keeping the mirrorglass crown close. When I’m through and exiting the mirror into my mother’s chambers, she rises from her perch on the bed.
“Well done. It appears you are more competent than I realized.”
I toss her the satchel, wishing the crown would break but knowing it won’t. “Why did you need me? Or Joshua for that matter? If you’re so powerful, why can’t you retrieve your junk on your own?”
She removes the crown from the satchel. Her ice-blue eyes widen as she examines it. “There are some tasks even I cannot achieve without aid. My reach has been limited for many years. I have remained confined to the Fountains, to the shadows, cursed to walk the Reflections as the opposite of my true self if I venture too far. Light reveals my flaws. Only in the darkness have I been allowed to be myself.”