chose to go their own ways instead. If they have fallen under the spell of this Empress, surely they have only themselves to blame.”
“Look to us, Broch?” said Garan incredulously. “How can they? We leave these islands only to buy our goods and learn whatever crafts may please us, and even then we disguise ourselves and never speak. The humans know us to be generous, but that is all-and what can our fellow faeries learn from the Children of Rhys, when they have not seen or heard from us in centuries?”
“But we cannot leave the Gwerdonnau Llion,” protested a girl faery with dusky skin and wiry black hair who looked no older than Linden. “Not without becoming entangled in the very evils from which Rhys and our forefathers sought to deliver us. Surely you cannot desire that?”
“No, Rhosmari, I do not desire evil,” Garan replied with a hint of impatience. “But it seems to me that to stand idle while evil is being done is no virtue, either. If it is in our power to help Linden and her people-”
“Of course we will help them,” cut in Broch. “That much is plain. But what form that help will take is for the Elders to decide.”
“Is it plain, then?” said another male. “I am not so certain. What do we know of these Oakenfolk? Because one of their number has proven herself honorable, does it follow that all of them are so worthy?”
The discussion became animated as more of the Children of Rhys gathered around, new voices chiming in from every side. But they ignored Linden completely; even Garan was too busy defending himself now to pay any heed to her. All she could do was stand there on the outskirts of the noisy crowd, bewildered and a little hurt.
“Come on,” said Timothy at last, tugging at her arm. “If they’re just going to argue, we might as well go have something to eat.”
They found a quiet corner on the room’s far side, and Timothy handed out the lunches Mrs. Jenkins had made for them. A pang went through Linden as she opened her bag and found a jam sandwich, a rosy apple, and a bar of chocolate-tokens of a simple kindness that she now dearly missed. For all their courteous talk, the Children of Rhys had never asked if she and Timothy were hungry, or offered them anything to drink. And for all the sunlit beauty of the white chamber around them, the place was uncomfortable and even a little cold. She thought of the Oak, so humble by contrast, and felt homesick.
She had finished one half of the sandwich and started on the other when the chamber went abruptly quiet, and she looked up to see that all the Children of Rhys-the Elders included-had returned to their seats. Hurriedly she brushed the crumbs from her lap and walked back onto the floor with Timothy.
“We have made our decision,” said Garan’s father, and Linden felt a stir of hope. Surely it was a good sign, if the Elders had appointed him to speak? But then she saw how grave he looked, and her confidence faltered as he went on:
“Though it pains us to deny you, we cannot give what you ask. The curse that robbed you and your fellow Oakenfolk of magic has also left you too few in number to resist the Empress, even if your powers were restored. And though you claim to have allies, their loyalty is unproven, and the Stone of Naming is too precious to fall into enemy hands.”
Tears swam into Linden’s eyes, and she put her hands over her mouth. She and Timothy had come so far, endured so much… Had it truly all been for nothing?
“And yet,” Gwylan continued, “we are not without pity. It is the will of the Elders that any of your people who choose may come and join us here in the Gwerdonnau Llion, where their magic will be restored and they may live out the rest of their lives with us in peace and safety…provided, that is, they pass the test.”
Approving murmurs rose from the audience: Nearly all the Children of Rhys seemed to agree that the judgment was fair. But Linden closed her eyes, despairing. What use was an invitation that none of her people could possibly accept? There was no way that a group of small faeries with no magic to protect themselves could undertake such a long journey-and even if by some miracle they did make it this far, how many of them would be deemed worthy to join the Children of Rhys? Much as she disliked Mallow’s bossiness and blustering, much as she resented Bluebell trying to set herself up as Queen in Valerian’s place, Linden could not bear the thought that any of the Oakenfolk might fail the test, and be left behind.
Timothy’s arm came around her shoulders, a wordless gesture of sympathy, and Linden turned to him and buried her face against his chest, a little sob heaving out of her. The chamber grew quiet, the Elders awaiting her reply-but she couldn’t bear to look at them, didn’t know what to say.
“So that’s what you call pity?” demanded Timothy over the top of her head, and she pulled back, startled, as he continued in the same fierce tone: “I call it cowardice. Linden’s told you what’s happening out there-nearly all your fellow faeries are slaves of the Empress, and they’re treating my people like cattle. The Oakenfolk are the only ones left who know how to live freely and in peace with humans-and instead of helping them make a difference in the world, you want to make them just as useless and self-righteous as you are?”
“Boy,” began one of the Elders warningly, but Timothy kept talking right over him:
“Why should the Oakenfolk come and live with people who’ve been so busy congratulating themselves on their own goodness and generosity, they haven’t even noticed that the rest of the world is suffering? You keep yourself hidden away on these islands because you’re afraid of being corrupted. But what good are your laws if they only help people who are perfect already? What use are your beliefs if they can’t stand up to the real world?”
He spoke with passion, gray-green eyes blazing, and Linden gazed up at him in awe. When he had finished, the silence in the chamber was electric, and it was several heartbeats before the dark-haired Lady Elder spoke:
“Return to us the magical herbs you carry. You have scorned our sacred traditions and despised our charity, and you are no longer welcome here.”
And with that, she stood up and deliberately turned her back on them. Several other Elders did likewise, and then, after a helpless pause, the rest. Gwylan was last to turn, his face grim and his hands clenched at his sides. Then, in a flash of cold light, all twelve of them disappeared.
Sixteen
In the dreadful stillness that followed the Elders’ verdict, four faeries carrying spears and wearing leather breastplates marched out onto the floor, one from each corner of the chamber. Their faces were hard, their manner imposing despite their small size, and the menace that radiated from them made Linden’s mouth go dry with fear.
“So much for your kingdom of justice and peace,” said Timothy bitterly. “Is that how you keep your people in line here-just throw out anyone who dares to disagree with you?”
“Give us the herbs,” said one of the faery guards, holding out her hand, and with a scowl Timothy swung his backpack off his shoulder. He opened the side pocket, pulled out the wilted, muddy clump he had taken from St. David’s churchyard, and flung it at the guards’ feet.
Linden looked at Garan, silently begging him to stand up and do something to support them. But he would not meet her gaze, and before she could even speak his name he vanished. Like stars winking out, the other Children of Rhys followed his example, and in moments every seat in the chamber was empty.
Her eyes prickled as she stared at the place where Garan had been. His desertion hurt, but it also stunned her to see how easily these faeries could transport themselves from one place to another with a single thought. Surely, if the Children of Rhys had that much power, it would have been no difficulty for them to share some of it with the Oakenfolk. Yet they had not been willing to do even that, except on their own impossible terms…and now her people’s last hope of salvation was gone.
“I’m sorry,” she heard Timothy say in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Linden took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “You were right.”
“Walk,” said another of the guards, pointing his spear toward the sculpted archway through which they had come. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Linden obeyed-and in a few steps she and Timothy emerged once more at the edge of the little wood, with the wildflower-dotted meadow stretching before them. Two of the guards stepped out in front of them, while the other two fell in behind, and in silence they waded through the tangled, hissing grass until they reached the shoreline.
“The boat is there,” the female guard said, pointing imperiously. “Get into it, and be gone.”
