Tanya did as she was told.
“Just relax,” the dancer said. “And don’t move a muscle.”
After that she was frozen in place. Because she was unable to see, all her focus was on her hearing. The crowd was restless. The knives clinked as Victor finished polishing them and threw them back onto the table one by one. Then there was another sound—the metallic scrape of a blade being sharpened. Tanya’s legs felt weak beneath her. The crowd stopped their noise and silence reigned once more. She knew then that Victor was about to throw the first knife.
She felt the impact of it hitting the wood next to her right leg. The audience cheered. Tanya closed her eyes beneath the blindfold. The next blade hit on the other side, by her left hand. Three more blades came in regular, short intervals.
A pause followed where nothing came. She strained her ears and heard two sounds: footsteps moving about, and the hiss of metal through the air. It came to her suddenly that Victor was juggling with the knives.
A blade hit the next second, close to her shoulder. Barely a heartbeat later another one landed by her ankle.
A horrid clang was followed by a collective cry from the audience. Victor had dropped one of the knives. Tanya felt sick. Heat rose in her, flushing her skin. She felt sweat slick out of her pores and soak into the fabric of the blindfold. He had dropped one of the knives.
What have I done? she thought, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. I’m such an idiot. What if he misjudges as he throws one of the knives? Then she remembered Rowan’s strange words as she’d left her seat.
He always drops one.
It was a message. The knife had not been dropped by accident. Rowan had been letting her know that it was a deliberate error, to fool the audience into thinking that mistakes could be made.
Even so, her limbs ached with the desire to move, to run. But she was fixed in place out of fear as surely as if the daggers were pinning her in place. Then, as she thought she could endure no more, it ended with a spray of blades piercing the wood around her head one after the other.
The crowd went wild. Without warning, the blindfold was pulled from Tanya’s face, and the spotlight finally left her to focus on Victor, his chest heaving with short bursts of breath. He bowed, over and over again, to the audience, many of whom were now standing up and clapping.
As Ariadne helped her step away from the board, Tanya looked back and saw the outline of her skinny figure drawn in knives. Relief flooded through her and she felt a slow grin spread across her face as she stared back into the audience, for as well as cheering for Victor, they were cheering for her. She spotted Fabian, whooping and clapping for all he was worth. Next to him even Rowan had broken her sullen stance to put her hands together in applause.
Then Tanya’s eyes found the small boy she had spotted earlier. Unlike everyone around him, he was not clapping or cheering. He simply stared into the arena, looking but not really seeing. Yet he was not the only one motionless in the crowd. Two more figures sitting side by side further back caught Tanya’s attention. Her smile froze on her lips as she recognized them—a dark-skinned young man wearing a green coat, and a beautiful, pale-faced woman in a black, feather-trimmed cloak.
Gredin and Raven stared back at her. Neither of them was smiling.
The show was every bit as good as Rowan remembered. After it ended in a blaze of color and rapturous applause, the audience filed out of the huge tent, chattering excitedly among themselves. Outside, the sky was stained indigo and orange, and fragments of conversations filled the evening air.
“The sword swallower, he was my favorite….”
“No, the strongman was better. How did he lift that—”
“—and the costumes! I’ve never seen such creations—”
“Can we come back tomorrow, Dad? Please?”
Rowan surveyed her surroundings. All around her, people swarmed like ants around the smaller tents and the food carts, where hot, golden corn on the cob, chestnuts, and cotton candy were being sold. The smell of it all was mouthwatering, and evoked memories of the times she had spent with the circus folk before, when she had still been looking for James. She wondered what he was doing now, at this very moment.
“You must know how he did it,” Fabian was saying, looking at her earnestly.
“How who did what?” said Rowan absently. Tino’s lithe figure was visible through the crowd, slinking like a black shadow away from the attractions and over to the caravans.
“How Crooks escaped from those chains,” Fabian pressed. “There were more than ten padlocks on him, and it really did look like he swallowed that key….”
“He did swallow it,” Rowan replied. Tino had vanished through the door of his caravan. She started to walk toward it.
“So how? How did he manage to get free after he was locked up good and proper?”
“I don’t know, Fabian. They don’t give away how they do things. But Crooks is an expert on keys and locks—he knows how they work, and how to get out of them.”
“Well, it makes sense now, anyway,” said Fabian. “I can see why some of the Coven members are part of the circus: Crooks with his keys, and Victor with his sword skills. It’s the ideal cover for what they really do, and they get to practice all the time without coming under suspicion. It’s brilliant!”
“You’re right,” said Tanya, her eyes narrowed. “And the fact that they travel the country gives them the perfect opportunity to search for missing children—and new recruits.” She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. “Anyway, I’ve got something to tell you both.” She pulled them aside, out of the main flow of people, next to a dark little tent. “There were fairies in the audience, watching me.”
“Which fairies?” asked Rowan.
“Raven and Gredin,” said Tanya. “They were in their human forms, but it was definitely them.” She looked over her shoulder, scanning the crowd fearfully. “They’re still here somewhere. I just know it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” asked Fabian.
“Because I couldn’t very well start talking about fairies in there, could I?” Tanya said huffily. “People could have heard.”
“Why do you think they’re here?” asked Rowan.
Tanya shook her head. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it can’t be good. They didn’t look happy.”
“Perhaps they didn’t approve of knives being thrown at you,” Fabian suggested. “Do you think Raven will tell Florence?”
Tanya looked stricken. “I hope not.”
“I suppose it all depends on whether Raven thinks it’s in Florence’s best interests to know,” said Rowan. “But I thought fairy guardians only protected their humans from magical harm, or things relating to the fairy realm.”
“In that case, that can’t be it,” said Tanya.
“Then they must know about the meeting,” Rowan said grimly.
“Correct,” said a cold voice from inside the tent, startling them all. Dark fingers curled around the flap and threw it aside, then Gredin stepped out, followed closely by Raven.
“If you think for one moment that I’ll allow you to get involved with these people, you’re sorely mistaken,” Gredin said, his yellow eyes fixed on Tanya. “It will only lead to trouble, and you’re to have no part in it.”
“You can’t possibly know about them,” Rowan said. “So how do you know they’re trouble?”
Gredin eyed her.
“You’re right. I don’t know about them. What they do or who they are. But whatever it is they do is so strongly protected by magic—powerful magic—that I know nothing good can come of it. Something shrouded in such secrecy should be avoided.” He cast his eyes on Rowan. “And after you crossed the Unseelie King, you would be wise not to draw further attention to yourself.”
“I know,” said Rowan. “That’s why I’m trying to put an end to it all, for good.”
Yet even as she said it, she questioned herself. Was getting involved in one last job really the w
ay to cut off the Coven once and for all? Would it be easier just to say no? But then, what would the Coven do to Tanya and Fabian in light of what they knew?
“Your choices are your own,” said Raven. Her long black hair fell down her back, mingling with the feather trim on her velvet coat. The feathers had the oily, rainbow-like appearance of the crow family about them, and from the coat’s folds a twitching, glistening brown snout protruded, attracting Rowan’s attention. The rest of the creature’s head followed, its large soulful eyes peering at them. Raven looked down and patted the Mizhog’s head. It sneezed suddenly, then vanished back into the coat. Raven continued to speak. “As Florence’s guardian, I know it would cause her suffering if harm should come to you. But I have no say in what you do.”
“Or in what I do,” said Fabian, shakily. It was only the second time he had ever seen the two fairies, and their unnerving effect on him was evident.
“Correct,” Gredin said again, his eyes boring into Fabian. Then he turned away dismissively, back to Tanya. “As your guardian, I forbid you to take part in whatever it is you have planned for tonight. Go home, and we will speak no more about it.”
“You forbid me?” Tanya said thunderously. “You forbid me?”
“Yes,” said Gredin simply.
Tanya’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can, and I am,” said Gredin. “And that is the end of it.”
“Really?” Tanya shot back. “Because to me, it seems there’s never an end. Are you ever going to stop interfering in my life and telling me what I can and can’t do?”
“It’s my duty to protect you,” said Gredin. “To protect your best—”
“My best interests, so you keep saying,” Tanya said furiously. Rowan had never seen her in such a temper. She put her hand on Tanya’s arm, for Gredin’s face was also darkening. Tanya shook her hand off.
“What if I think it’s in my best interests for you to just leave me alone?”
“Then you’re wrong to think that.”
“No, I’m not. Everything you’ve ever done has made me miserable and I’ve had just about enough of it. I never asked to be able to see fairies. I’d never have chosen the ability. And I never asked to get stuck with you!”
“The feeling,” Gredin said icily, “is mutual. Do you think I chose to be your guardian of my own free will? That I do this out of some kind of love or caring for you? Do you think I enjoy having to watch you, day in, day out?”
“I…” Tanya faltered, her mouth agape. His admissions stung her. And for some reason, they frightened her.
“I didn’t choose you any more than you chose me,” Gredin continued. “But I was given the task of protecting you. I warn you now—if you defy me tonight, I’ll punish you.”
“Go ahead,” said Tanya. “I’ve had fourteen years’ worth of your punishments—I’m used to them by now.”
“Tanya,” Rowan said warningly—but Tanya ignored her.
Gredin shook his head. “If you think what you’ve experienced so far has been tough, believe me when I say I have punishments that will make the earlier ones seem positively pleasurable. If you willingly defy me, after I have warned you against it, I’ll have no option but to use them.”
“Like I said,” Tanya answered. She unbuttoned her jacket and gestured to her T-shirt where, at the side, the label was visible. The T-shirt was inside out. “Go ahead. I’m older now, and wiser. If you want to punish me you’ll have to get past the deterrents I use first.”
Gredin stepped closer to her, his golden eyes flaring as he stared down into her face. She could smell the woodland on him—from his clothes, his hair, even his breath.
“Here’s the thing with deterrents,” he said softly. “Each one has its weakness. Turning your clothes inside out? Only a matter of time before someone pulls you up on it and you have to turn the garment the right way. Wearing red? Not possible all of the time. An iron nail in the pocket? Small, sharp, pointed things can easily work their way through clothing and get lost. I could go on, but I think you get my point. It takes a lot of concentration to employ deterrents all the time. In fact, it only takes a moment’s distraction, and you can forget all about them.” He paused and stepped back a little. “It’s only a matter of time before you slip up. And then, I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Tanya.
“Come on, Gredin,” said Raven. With her right hand she reached up and massaged her ear with long, thin fingers. Tanya watched and saw that her ears, and Gredin’s, normally pointed at the tips, were rounded into a human-like shape. Both fairies were using glamours to disguise their fey appearance, something that caused them discomfort. “Let’s go.”
But Gredin wasn’t quite finished. “Of course, there’s one major flaw with using deterrents. Can you guess what it is?”
“I can hardly take the suspense,” Tanya snapped.
Gredin smiled without warmth. “The flaw is that you’re presuming any punishments will involve magic. Which, in fairness, I can’t blame you for. I mean, up until now, magic has been the most convenient method of controlling you. But you’ve just proved to me that I may have to change those methods.”
Tanya went cold as she digested Gredin’s words. The thought that he would punish her without magical means had never occurred to her before.
“What kind of… punishments?” she said hoarsely, her bravado crumbling.
“Oh, you’d like an example?” Gredin said brightly. “Well, let’s see. There’s that odious hound you’re so fond of. Suppose, for instance, he runs off and gets lost somewhere….”
“You wouldn’t…” Tanya choked out as his words sank in. “You wouldn’t harm Oberon….”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get the message across to you,” said Gredin, his voice harsh. “The sooner you realize that, the easier both our lives will become.”
“Why?” Tanya said, her voice cracking. “Why do you do this?”
“I thought I’d made that perfectly clear—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” It was dark now, and around them the tents glowed with little lanterns lit up outside. In the moment before she spoke next she heard the drone of gnats buzzing around their heads and the sounds of laughter further away. “Why are you my guardian? Why do we have guardians, if neither of us wants it? And why… why do you hate me so much?”
Gredin gave her a long, hard look. “ ‘Hate’ is a strong word,” he said at last. “I don’t hate you. I just hate what I have to do.” He broke his gaze and shook his head, then turned to Raven. “Let’s go.”
Raven pulled her cloak tighter around her and followed Gredin as he stepped away.
“Wait,” said Tanya.
Gredin paused, but did not turn round. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me why we… I mean, why second-sighted people have guardians?”
She saw Gredin’s shoulders tense.
“Ask your grandmother,” he said. As he and Raven moved away, merging with the throng of the crowd, Tanya was aware that Rowan and Fabian had come to stand on either side of her.
“Oh, I will,” she whispered to the fairies’ retreating backs. “I’ll ask her, all right.”
“What are you going to do?” Fabian said, his voice dismal. “If you come to the meeting, Gredin will know and he’ll punish you.”
“It’s not worth it,” Rowan said softly. “I’ll go to see Tino alone. You two can wait for me in the smaller tents—there’s plenty to keep you amused. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“No,” said Tanya.
“You heard what he said,” Rowan argued, exasperated. “You can’t come—”
“I know that,” said Tanya. “I’m not prepared to risk something happening to Oberon. But there’s nothing to stop Fabian from coming with you.”
“What? I told you, I’m going alone. There’s no need for you two to be there, or to be involved at all.”
“Th
ere is,” said Fabian, fiercely. “Tino’s not going to let me and Tanya just walk away, knowing what we know, is he? He knows that if we’re involved, then it incriminates us and means we’re less likely to talk. But if you insist on going alone, he’ll think of a way to get to us, to make sure we don’t talk.”
Rowan glared at the pair of them. “You should never have followed me. I knew what I was doing, and now you’ve messed everything up.”
Fabian glared back. “You might be glad to have us by the time Tino’s finished with you.”
“Look, just let me go alone so I can—”
“So you can lie and keep us out of what’s going on?” Tanya cut in. “Not a chance. From what Tino said last night, we’re all involved now. If you don’t let Fabian go with you, I’ll tell everyone at the manor what you’re involved in myself.” She ignored Rowan’s scowl and focused on Fabian. “Be sure to get all the details. Gredin might have forbidden me to go to the meeting, but he didn’t forbid me from hearing about it.” She jerked her head to the smaller tents. “I’ll be in one of those.”
She strode away from them, regret and anger pricking at her like spiteful pins. She could feel their eyes on her still as she approached the fortune-telling tent. Intending to duck inside to kill a few minutes, her bad temper deepened upon seeing that a long line had formed outside. With a sigh she continued past, but as she did, raised voices from inside stopped her.
“All I see is that the brooch never left your house.” It was a young, female voice, and one that was familiar. “It’s there still—it’s being hidden.”
“What are you suggesting?” The second voice was an older woman. She sounded flustered.
“That you need to look closer to home to find the thief,” the younger girl said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the psychic strain has left me feeling faint. I must go and lie down at once.”
The whispering line hushed as the curtains were thrown back. With one hand pressed to her temple and the other fanning herself, Suki theatrically swept out of the tent. Tanya, along with everyone else, stared after her. Suki was the fortune teller!