They don’t wait long to retaliate.
For the rest of the afternoon and early evening, we receive lessons in
history. A cat-headed goblin named Yarrow recites ballads and asks us
questions. The more correct answers I give, the angrier Cardan grows. He makes
no secret of his displeasure, drawling to Locke about how boring these lessons
are and sneering at the lecturer.
For once, we’re done before dark has fully fallen. Taryn and I start for
home, with her giving me concerned glances. The light of sunset filters through
the trees, and I take a deep breath, drinking in the scent of pine needles. I feel a
kind of weird calm, despite the stupidity of what I’ve done.
“This isn’t like you,” Taryn says finally. “You don’t pick fights with
people.”
“Appeasing them won’t help.” I toe a stone with a slipper-covered foot.
“The more they get away with, the more they believe they’re entitled to have.”
“So you’re going to, what—teach them manners?” Taryn sighs. “Even if
someone should do it, that someone doesn’t have to be you.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. The giddy fury of this afternoon will fade,
and I will regret what I’ve done. Probably after a good, long sleep, I’ll be as
horrified as Taryn is. All I have bought myself is worse problems, no matter how
good it felt to salve my pride.
You’re no killer.
What you lack is nothing to do with experience.
And yet, I don’t regret it now. Having stepped off the edge, what I want to
do is fall.
I begin to speak when a hand claps down over my mouth. Fingers sink into
the skin around my lips. I strike out, swinging my body around, and see Locke
grabbing Taryn’s waist. Someone has my wrists. I wrench my mouth free and
scream, but screams in Faerie are like birdsong, too common to attract much
attention.
They push us through the woods, laughing. I hear a whoop from one of the
boys. I think I hear Locke say something about larks being over quickly, but it’s
swallowed up in the merriment.
Then a shove at my shoulders and the horrible shock of cold water closing
over me. I sputter, trying to breathe. I taste mud and reeds. I shove myself up.
Taryn and I are waist-high in the river, the current pushing us downstream
toward a deeper, rougher part. I dig my feet into the muck at the bottom to keep
from being swept away. Taryn is gripping a boulder, her hair wet. She must have
slipped.
“There are nixies in this river,” Valerian says. “If you don’t get out before
they find you,...