With a Golden Sword (DFZ Changeling Book 2), page 4
It was flashing, crazy, changeling-friendly chaos, and Lola was so happy to see it she could have burst. She was wondering if she should pick up a present for Tristan as a pre-apology for the blood mage she was hopefully about to bring into his barrow—fairies loved gifts—when something slammed into her gossamer.
Lola stumbled on the dock as the punch of disbelief caught her from behind. It happened so fast, and there was so little of her, her magic almost slopped into a puddle before she caught herself. She was still struggling to hold things together with a hand latched onto her shoulder.
“Where are your parents?”
Lola looked down at the waterproof green carpet under her feet, hiding her face from the middle-aged woman who’d suddenly appeared behind her.
“What are you doing walking around by yourself?” the woman demanded, whipping Lola’s little body around to face her. “Did you steal something?”
Lola couldn’t even reply. Just like Jamie’s, the woman’s self-righteous confidence was as hard as a brick wall. It didn’t matter if she thought she was dealing with a fairy or a shoplifter. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Lola shouldn’t be doing whatever it was the woman thought she was doing, and that absolute belief acted like a blowtorch on the spun sugar of Lola’s gossamer.
She started melting immediately, her body going soft as taffy in the sun. The collapse was spreading even quicker than the time Frank had shot her, and with so little magic to work with, Lola had no way to hide it. Her shoulder was already oozing out from under the woman’s fingers, causing her to snatch her hand back with a gasp.
“What is wrong with you?”
That was the last straw. Some people were simply intolerant of fairy magic. It was pure bad luck Lola had run into one here, but now that the woman’s yelling had drawn the crowd’s attention, more and more eyes were locking onto Lola’s drooping body, and the harder they looked, the quicker she melted. She was about to lose structural integrity entirely when the woman who’d started this mess stumbled sideways with a grunt.
Lola had no idea why. Everyone else was standing back, and she’d been too busy melting to do anything. But while she didn’t know what was going on, the middle-aged lady was definitely tipping to the left as if something had crashed into her. Was still crashing into her, because even when the woman got her feet back on the green carpet, her body kept going sideways, taking her right to the edge of the floating dock before tipping her over the rope and into the icy river.
The crowd exploded as she fell. All the people who’d stopped to watch a full-grown woman scream at a little girl were either rushing for the life preservers or pulling out their phones to film the chaos. This brought even more people running over to see what the commotion was, creating the diversion Lola desperately needed. The moment the crowd’s eyes were off her, she bolted, darting down the maze of floating docks until her feet finally hit dry land.
She stopped with a gasp when she reached the gravel lot that fed into the main Riverfest gangplank. She was back beneath the Skyways now, standing in a big open square lined with bars, restaurants, and coffee shops that used to be the festival’s parking lot. The cars had all been shoved farther back into the Underground as Riverfest became a permanent event, but there was still a big area for delivery trucks off to the side.
Squeezing her soggy gossamer like a wad of wet paper, Lola dove into the gap between two tractor trailers. This got her away from prying eyes, but the damage was already done. Her body was a wreck, and she wasn’t sure she had enough unmelted gossamer left to fix it.
“Come on,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as she huddled in the shadow of the truck’s giant tires. “Keep it together. You have to keep it together.”
But it was no good. She’d whittled her magic so thin trying to dodge the Rider, there wasn’t anything left to work with. Every time she got one limb stable, the other three just started oozing faster. Even when she dissolved her phone to get a little more, it wasn’t a drop in the bucket of what she needed.
Lola squeezed her melting eyelids tight with a cruse. How could she have been so stupid? She’d been so focused on avoiding the Rider, she hadn’t even considered what might happen if someone doubted her disguise, which was just plain dumb. Did she think she was immune to disbelief now that her magic was finally behaving? Even Tristan could turn into sea-foam if he let himself get caught doing something stupid in front of enough people. Had she forgotten everything she’d learned as Victor’s monster?
Apparently so, because her very next thought was a wish that she still had her pills. That made Lola the maddest she’d been yet, because those damn pills had never helped anything. She’d never needed his bloody magic to be herself, and she didn’t need it now.
With that, Lola hit the brakes on her runaway panic and forced herself to focus. She could do this. The gossamer body might be tiny, but it was still hers. This was the same magic that had brought her back from Fenrir. She could control it, she just had to believe.
That wasn’t a cheesy line from a self-help poster. All gossamer—hers, Tristan’s, even the Wild Hunt’s—was powered by belief. That was why even non-magical humans were able to melt it, but it was also how Lola could put herself back together. She just had to reassert her own belief of how she should be over the mess the woman and the crowd had turned her into. That shouldn’t be impossible now that she was alone, so Lola rolled what was left of herself into a ball, shutting out the fear and distractions to focus on her face.
Not the yogurt lady or Victor’s redhead. Even if it was the little-girl version, the face she had on today—the face she’d worn every day for the last three weeks—was her sister’s. It was the face that made her human even when she wasn’t, because Lola was more than a changeling who’d lived past its purpose. She was a sister and a person, the monster who’d attacked the city and the heroine who was going to save the people she loved. She was a thousand times more than anyone gave her credit for, and she was not going to melt here.
The belief behind those words hit her harder than Victor’s pills ever had. They turned Lola’s whole body solid in an instant, flash-freezing her melting gossamer into place. For one long second, she was a hard-clenched rock of determination. Then, when she was certain nothing would move unless she allowed it, Lola released the pressure and started putting herself back together.
She started with her fingers, shaping what appeared to be melting wax mixed with monster fur back into the little girl’s small, brown hands. She did her arms next, then her legs, then her feet, and finally her torso. Her face came last of all, even though it was the first thing she’d focused on. Faces were always what got you kicked the hardest when you got them wrong, so Lola waited until everything else was stable before shifting her features back into the younger version of her sister. The dark-haired, wide-eyed little girl Lola imagined she would have looked like if she’d never become the monster.
The process took way longer than she wanted, but eventually, Lola was back in the child’s body with her big purple coat, sitting on the muddy gravel with a shadow hiding her from the crowds in the square beyond.
A man’s large, dark shadow.
She jumped to her feet with a squeak. The gap between the trucks had been empty when she’d dived for cover. Now, though, there was someone blocking her exit. He was dressed all in black with a mirrored motorcycle helmet covering his face, not that it mattered. He could have been wearing a clown suit and Lola still would have known him from the wintery taste of the magic that hung over her like an ax.
“How did you find me?”
The Black Rider reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his writing pad.
I pay very close attention to you.
“Forgive me if I’m not flattered,” Lola said, pressing her small back into the truck’s giant tire. “Seriously, though, how did you do it? I nearly killed myself cutting my magic down this small. Such a tiny fraction of my gossamer shouldn’t even blip your radar, so how are you here?”
The Rider pressed the pad against the truck’s door to steady it as he wrote down his answer. I used my compass, it read when he turned it back around. I told you before, ever since I ate your dream, there’s an arrow in my head that points only to you. All of you. Even when it’s only a tiny portion, there’s still a swing. I wanted to see you, so I followed it.
“Well, that’s just great,” Lola said, easing her body toward the tire’s outer edge. The gap between the bottom of the truck’s cab and the gravel would be a tight squeeze for someone as big as the Rider, but her little body could fit through no problem. She was about to make a run for it when the Rider thrust his pad at her again.
I’m not here to hurt you.
Lola arched an eyebrow. “You get a choice in that?”
The Rider flipped his notepad to a new page and began writing furiously. No. Victor’s kill order still stands. But since the majority of you is somewhere else, I haven’t technically “found” you yet, and I can’t kill someone I haven’t found.
“That’s a pretty weak technicality,” Lola said, edging closer to her escape.
She had to get out of here. Valente might have found a way around killing her immediately, but he was still Victor’s weapon. It’d been easy to forget that part when she’d been lonely and scared back in the flooded alley, but this was different. She wasn’t even sure if she could thank him for slipping her Simon’s location without risking Victor overhearing. When she turned to run, though, the Rider grabbed her shoulder.
He didn’t do it hard. Lola knew he was perfectly capable of throwing her through the Skyways if he wanted, but his grip was only strong enough to keep her from vanishing under the truck as he dropped his pad on the ground and started writing on it with his free hand.
Please wait.
Lola sagged against his hold. Every second she spent with Valente was dangerous, but she couldn’t say no to that, especially when he kept writing.
I’m not here because of Victor. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much at this point, but I might not get another chance to talk to you, and I couldn’t let you go without saying I am so, so sorry about what happened that night.
“Me too,” Lola said, reaching up to squeeze his gloved hand. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t blame you for what happened. All of this is Victor’s fault. I know you can’t betray him—”
I will always betray him, the Rider wrote, his pencil moving in violent thrusts. He’s the one who made me turn against everyone I ever loved. I used to follow his orders without question because I thought I didn’t have a choice, but after what happened with you, I realized that’s not true.
“What do you mean?” Lola asked with a surge of hope. “Have you found a way around your oaths?”
The Rider shook his helmet. He’s still my master. I can’t refuse his orders directly, but I can abuse every loophole and technicality.
“Like how you wormed your way out of killing me just now?”
Valente nodded. I’m done being his slave. He can punish me all he wants, but I’m going to keep hammering every opening he leaves me until I find the one that brings him down.
“Is that how you helped me before?” Lola asked, thinking back to the mysterious invisible force on the docks. “You used your gossamer to push that lady into the river, didn’t you?”
The Rider’s visor turned toward her, and even though Lola knew there was no face inside it, she could feel his smug smile.
Victor didn’t order me not to help you.
“Thanks for the save,” Lola said with a grin before her face slid back into a scowl. “But if your plan is to bide your time until Victor slips up, you’re in for a long wait. He doesn’t make many mistakes.”
He makes them all the time, the Rider wrote. You were his biggest, which is why he wants to kill you so badly. You showed him how weak his control really is.
“Is that why you don’t have your head?” Lola asked, moving closer despite her better judgment. “Victor took it, didn’t he? He doesn’t trust you anymore.”
He shouldn’t, Valente wrote angrily. A fairy knight is incapable of killing his monarch, but I’m not one of them. I was born human, and I’m going to find a way. I’m going to kill him, Lola.
He pressed down so hard at the end that his pencil tore the paper, but Lola couldn’t shake her head fast enough. “Don’t,” she begged. “Victor’s as petty as he is vicious. If you put him in a corner, he’ll do everything in his power to take you down with him.”
I’m fine with that.
“I’m not!” Lola cried, whirling around to grab the Rider’s shoulders. “Maybe you’re okay with dying for revenge, but I’m not letting Victor take anything else away from us. Forget about finding loopholes. Just keep your head down and do whatever you have to to stay alive until I figure out a way to set you free!”
Valente let her hold him for a long time before breaking away to pick his pad up off the gravel.
There is no way, he wrote. I made this bed, Lola. I know there’s no hope for me, but there is for you. I’ve already got a plan.
She was afraid to ask, but, “What?”
The Rider turned his visor from side to side. He must not have seen whatever he was looking for, because he hunched over a second later, writing his answer in letters so tiny, Lola had to squint to read them.
Victor knows Alberich is coming for him. I don’t know what he’s planning because he didn’t tell me stuff like that even back when he trusted me, but I do know he’s depending on me to be his counter to Orlando.
Just reading the name made Lola shiver. She could already see Alberich’s voiceless, bloodstained knight hammering the Rider with his giant sword again like he’d done in their first fight, but Valente wasn’t finished.
Victor’s got my head hidden somewhere even I can’t feel, but he’ll have to give it back if he wants me to have a chance. He’s already ordered me to fight to the death if Orlando shows up, but he didn’t tell me not to lose.
The writing grew stiff after that, the black pencil marks thick and sharp as if he’d been bearing down with all his weight.
I’m going to throw the fight.
“You can’t,” Lola said. “If Orlando beats you while you’re wearing your head, you’ll die for real.”
That’s the idea, the Rider wrote calmly. Victor has a lot of tricks up his sleeve, but facing the entire Wild Hunt will be a stretch even for him. I’m supposed to guard his flank and keep Alberich’s best weapon occupied, but if I let Orlando kill me right at the beginning, there’ll be nothing to stop him from crashing into Victor’s back. Once that happens, it’ll be over.
“So will you!” Lola cried, throwing her little arms around him. “Don’t you dare do this, Valente. Don’t you dare trade your life for Victor’s. He’s not worth it!”
I’m not doing it for him, Valente wrote, wrapping his arms all the way around her tiny body to keep writing over her shoulder. I’m doing it for us. For you and me and Simon and everyone else that Victor’s crushed. His death is the only way any of us get free.
“Then we’ll find another,” Lola said, fisting her hands in the leather of his riding suit. “I’m not accepting a solution where you die!”
It’s all I’ve got left, he wrote, his shaking hand wobbling all over the page. I’m sworn to him for life. His or mine, whichever ends first. This is my chance to make up for all the evil I’ve done on his orders. I can’t bring those lives back, but I can stop Victor from taking any more. My mind’s made up.
“Your mind’s not even here,” Lola said angrily as she pushed him away. “I’m not letting you do this. I’m going to rescue Simon, and then I’m coming back for you. I don’t care about your noble sacrifice. I refuse to let you die!”
The notepad fell to the ground as Valente crushed her into his arms, curling his towering body around her small one with a silent shake. He was trying so hard, she realized. Trying to be brave, to make amends, to do the right thing. Of course he didn’t want to die. He just didn’t know any other way, but Lola would find one. It was the first thing she’d sworn when she’d gotten free, but she couldn't keep her promise if he was dead.
“Stay alive,” she ordered, pushing back to look him in the eyes, even though she knew there was nothing under his visor. “I saved myself. I saved my sister. I’m going to save Simon right now. I’m coming for you next, so trust in me and wait. I swear I’ll find a way to set you free.”
The Rider didn’t have an answer for that. He just knelt there with his pad forgotten on the ground. Lola gave him one more hug, pressing her face into his leather chest until she could feel the warmth she remembered beneath his cold magic. She gave herself five seconds to enjoy it, and then she walked away, striding back into the busy square before the mage whose blood she could still feel tainting the Rider’s winter magic realized what she was up to.
Chapter 4
The nearest Skyway entrance was conveniently located one block away from the Riverfest gangplank. Lola had to remake her copy of Simon’s phone to find it, though, because the metal staircase was bolted to the opposite side of a giant support pillar and thus completely invisible from the river. Not the greatest planning, but people who could afford to live up on the Skyways wouldn’t be caught dead at an overgrown carnival like Riverfest anyway, so it could have been intentional.
At least the climb was educational. One side of the staircase was open with only a single metal railing to keep pedestrians from plummeting to their deaths, but the side that faced the support pillar was papered with recruitment posters for the Hero’s Army. The advertisements ranged from classy all-text appeals to gory, full-color photos of goblins being ripped apart by blood magic. Clearly, Victor was aiming to hit as wide a spread as possible, and his efforts looked like they were paying off. Nearly every poster was missing at least one of the perforated information tabs along the bottom, and who knew how many people had tapped the LEARN MORE button the digital barcode promised to bring up in their phone’s AR.
