Breukelen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Oryn Pale did not leave. He followed us up the grand staircase and into the pink-and-blue mansion like he owned the deed, one gloved hand resting near the hilt at his belt. His riders waited on the drive. He came inside alone. Breukelen kept glancing at me, mouth open with things she wanted to say, and every time she drew breath he turned his head to listen. The foxes trailed at her heels. She could not tell me anything with him three steps behind. The housekeeper showed us to a sitting room off the main hall. Green couch. Glittering green table. A tall window looked into the garden. Oryn took the couch as if invited. Breukelen sat on the window bench beside me, close enough that her knee pressed mine. She smelled like scorched sugar from the fire-fox. "Speak plainly," Oryn said. "Those animals are worth a province. I need to know whose side they answer to before morning." Breukelen opened her mouth. I touched her wrist. She closed it. Something tapped the window glass. Once, twice, hard. A fairy hung in the air outside, no taller than my hand, pink dress, purple hair, wings beating fast. She pointed at the latch and waited. Breukelen slid the window open. The fairy flew in and landed on the glittering table between us and Oryn. She looked at him first, then at the foxes, then at Breukelen's bare cheeks. "You wear my glitter," she said. "The paint from the market stall. That was mine." "I liked it," Breukelen said. "It nearly killed you. I came to say sorry." The fairy turned her small face to Oryn. "You. Out. This is fairy business and half-elf business. Not yours." Oryn laughed once. "I don't take orders from insects." The fairy lifted one hand. The climbing vines carved along the table legs uncurled, real now, green and wet, and wrapped Oryn's wrists to the couch arms. He jerked. They held. "Ten minutes," the fairy said. "Then I let go. Talk." Breukelen turned to me fast, both hands on my sleeve. "I said we own the foxes. I know I did. I know I didn't ask. But I meant it. I want to stay. Say I can stay. Say it out loud so he hears it too." Her eyes were wet. Not performing. Just waiting. "You can stay," I said. "You're with me." She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob and pressed her forehead to my shoulder. The flower-fox climbed into her lap. The fire-fox lay across my boots. Oryn watched from the couch, wrists still bound. He had heard every word. Whatever he wanted from us now, he would have to bargain with a pair, not a girl alone. The fairy folded her arms and waited out the last of her ten minutes.