Celebrate hollyblack's return to the world of her popular Folk of the Air trilogy with this excerpt from her latest book, TheStolenHeir.
The Stolen Heir
Now seventeen, Oak is charming, beautiful, and manipulative. He’s on a mission that will lead him into the north, and he wants Suren’s help. But if she agrees, it will mean guarding her heart against the boy she once knew and a prince she cannot trust, as well as confronting all the horrors she thought she left behind.
Oak gives him a look that makes me suspect the prince will finally call him to account for his familiarity. But if so, this is not the moment. I wonder how hard it is for the kelpie not to run directly into a pond and drown us both. But, as one of the solitary fey, he has very likely made vows of obedience to Elfhame, and I can only hope those hold. I barely have time to wrap my arms around the prince’s waist and try not to fall.
I slip away and return with handfuls of persimmons, two dryad’s saddle mushrooms as large as helmets, wild garlic, and spicebush twigs. Even Tiernan pronounces himself impressed by my finds, although I think he’s annoyed that Oak allowed me to wander off. I mull over his answer as I bed down in some of the prince’s blankets. They are perfumed with the scents of Elfhame, and I pull my own muddy covering close to my nose to blot out the smell.
“Greetings,” he says expansively, bowing. “You must wish to know the name of the one who carried you on his back, who so stalwartly aided a young prince in his time of need, before the beginning of his true reign—”And whom do I have the honor of addressing?” He looks at me.“You have an unusual voice,” he says. “Raspy. Quite fetching, really.”Oak steps between us, and I am grateful for the reprieve. “What a fine gentleman you make, Jack.
“This way,” the prince says, and ushers us along the bank. I follow, trying not to slide on the wet mud. His gaze goes to the prince, standing on a windowsill, and then back to me. “He seems like an open book, but that’s the game he plays. He keeps plenty of secrets. For instance, did you know he received a message from Lady Nore?”Before I can press him for details, Oak turns to us with a grin that calls for an answer. “Come look.”
At the sight of us, she scowls. “I guard the passage to the Court of Moths. Declare your name and your purpose in coming here. Then I will very likely kill you.” The troll tilts her head, as if still evaluating his deliciousness. “Some don’t make it back at all.” “Queen Annet will wish to greet you personally,” the troll says, kicking the wall behind her three times. “She is fain to fete you in her hall and all that sort of thing. I’ve summoned a servant to bring you to some rooms. There, you may refresh yourselves and dress for the evening’s revel. We will even lock up your prisoner for the night.”Hyacinthe glances in Tiernan’s direction, perhaps looking to his former lover to speak in his behalf.
Hyacinthe bites off his last words because we have stopped in front of four doors, all of them of stone with spiraling metal hinges.What do you suppose the prince is able to do to someone like you?Was that how he made everyone feel? No wonder there was always a girl. No wonder Hyacinthe believes Tiernan is wrapped around his finger.
The place makes my skin itch. Though it is warm here, and nothing is ice, it reminds me entirely too much of the Court of Teeth. I want to be away.Just as I get to number eighty?eight, Oak opens the door. “I’ve arranged for you to see the royal seamstress.”Love-talker.He looks incredulous. “You can hardly attend the revel like that.”It’s not fair. I am cleaner than I’ve been in weeks.
I am at a loss. Even if she could see into my dreams, she would find no garment of the sort she would have me imagine. “I don’t know what I want.” The words come out a whisper, too true by half.I shake my head, but I can’t help thinking of the satisfaction I felt wrecking the glaistig’s spells. Sometimes it feels as though there’s a knot inside me, and were it to come apart, whatever emerged would be all teeth.
I wish Oak could have seen the dress as it was, even though it hasn’t looked that way in a long time. When she has my measurements and perhaps my measure, she goes to her table and begins to rip and stitch, leaving me to awkwardly wander the room, peering at ribbons, some of which seem to be made of woven hair, others of toad skin. I pocket a pair of sharp-looking scissors with a handle in the shape of a swan. They are lighter than my knives and much easier to conceal.
“Magic,” she reminds me with a flourish, then ushers me behind a screen. “And give me that dress you’re wearing. I want to burn it.” As I look at it, I am not sure what to think. It is mockery that makes her dress me thus, in rags and scraps, no matter how deftly put together? I am taller than I remembered. My hair is a wild tangle despite my attempts at finger-combing and washing it back at the motel. I never got out all the knots. My clavicle shows at the top of the collar, and I know I am too thin. But the dress clings to my chest and waist, skirt flaring over my hips. The tattered edges give it a haunting elegance, as though I am wrapped in the shadows of dusk. I look the picture of a mysterious courtier, rather than someone who sleeps in dirt.
Of course someone must have told Oak where Habetrot’s chambers were and assured him that she could do what he asked. So it is not Habetrot I owe, but Oak. And he owes Queen Annet in turn. My heart sinks. Debt is not easily dismissed in Faerie.“The gown is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” I say to her, as I can pay her no other way without insult. It has been a long time since I have been given a gift, barbed though it may be. “It does feel as though it might come from a dream.
He looks every bit the handsome faerie prince, beloved by everyone and everything. Rabbits probably eat from his hands. Blue jays try to feed him worms meant for their own children.
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