“I ignored her summons,” the Queen replied. “I was busy at the time, and it seemed unreasonable that I should return to the Oak on such short notice. Besides, the news of the call had come to me secondhand, so I had reason to believe that Jasmine had forgotten my existence-I told you already that scholars of my kind were often overlooked.”
“But you came back anyway, in the end,” said Knife. “Why?”
“The night Jasmine cast her spell, I dreamed of faery voices crying out for help, and knew that something was wrong. I cast off my human guise and returned to the Oak; but I was too late to undo what Jasmine had done.
“I could not even save Heather,” she went on bitterly, “for Jasmine had already caught her and two others trying to escape, and pronounced them traitors. Whether she was enraged by their disobedience or merely her own failure to bend them to her will, I do not know; but she lost no time in carrying out the execution, and by the time I reached the throne room, there was nothing left of them but eggs.” Her face contorted with disgust. “By the Gardener, how I loathed those eggs when I first saw them-”
“Was it then that you challenged her?” Knife asked.
“It was. Though I feared to lose,” said Amaryllis, “for her magic had always been the stronger. But the effort of casting the Sundering had weakened her, and in the end I was victorious. I stripped her of her remaining powers, and executed the most fitting punishment I could devise.” She gave a tight smile. “I transformed her into a human and banished her from the Oak forever.”
Knife stared at her, appalled.
“And yet the shadow she had cast over the Oak remained, for all I sought to dispel it. I could not persuade the faeries she had altered to look favorably on humans again, and once I saw how weak and vulnerable they had become, I realized that it would be dangerous to try. And when the first eggs hatched, I found to my dismay that the new faeries had no magic at all-so I was forced to make them capable of creating eggs as well, for I could see no other way to prevent our people from dying out.”
“So that’s what you were doing to Linden,” said Knife. “And I stopped you.”
“Yes,” said the Queen. “But understand that I only altered the new faeries’ bodies; I did not touch their minds. And before all else, I gave back to each of them a small portion of the magic I had taken from Jasmine.” She looked down at her hands. “Small recompense for a great wrong, I know; but it was all the power I could spare without putting the Oak itself in jeopardy.”
Now at last Knife understood what old Bryony had meant in her letter: To Queen Amaryllis, who has done all she could…“Your Majesty,” Knife said, “I misjudged you. I apologize.”
“And well you might,” said Amaryllis with sudden harshness, “for you have done me a great wrong.” She walked toward Knife and looked up into her face. “When you saved me from the fox even after seeing me cast my spell on Linden, I believed that your loyalty had proven stronger than your doubts, and that I could trust you. And when you told me of your plan to leave the Oak and search for other faeries, I rejoiced to think that my confidence in you had been so well repaid…but I see now that this was nothing but deceit.”
She seized Knife’s chin in her hand, forcing her not to look away. “Do you think I cannot tell that you have been with a human? The scent of him is all over you. And did you think I had not noticed the state of your wings?” Her eyes bored into Knife’s, accusing. “You have not only endangered yourself and the Oak, you have made yourself useless as my Hunter. For the sake of your own selfish curiosity you have rebelled against my commands, you have deceived me at every turn, and now you have robbed me of the last hope I had for saving our people-how dare you come here and boast of your discoveries, when it is I and your sisters who must pay the price?”
“Your Majesty,” said Knife in desperation, “you don’t understand-”
Her words ended in a gasp as Amaryllis brought both hands down in a sweeping gesture and a sheet of white flame sprang up around their feet. “I have given you the truth,” said the Queen coldly, the pale fire reflected in her eyes. “Now it is time for you to repay in kind.”
Knife struggled, but her feet were fastened to the floor, her hands too heavy to move. “You don’t need to do this!” she pleaded with the Queen. “I’ll answer your questions-just ask!”
“I cannot trust your words,” Amaryllis said. “And I am weary of talking. The choice is yours, Knife. If you willingly recall for me your dealings with the humans, I will look at those memories and nothing else; but if you force me to search your mind-”
“No,” said Knife quickly. “That won’t be necessary.” She closed her eyes, still seeing the dazzling imprint of the Queen’s magic behind them. “I’ll give you what you want.”
Cool fingertips brushed her temples, rested there. Knife stiffened, but there was no pain, only a slight probing, until- Paul climbing the Oak, his child’s face alight with wonder…His rich voice explaining art to her, and the sure movements of his hands as he sketched her for the first time…His muscles taut with fury as he flung the book of photographs to the floor, then slack beneath her hands as she dragged him from the pool…His friendship, his generosity, his readiness to help her…His excitement at driving her to Waverley, his disappointment when she told him good-bye, and then…
Amaryllis snatched her fingers back; the flames around them died. Still dizzy from the onslaught of memories, Knife lifted her head and looked into the Queen’s shocked face.
“I know,” said Knife. Her lips still tingled with the memory of Paul’s kiss; she bit them self-consciously. “But you heard what I told him-it’s over. We’ll never see each other again.”
Amaryllis did not reply. She turned and walked slowly back to her seat, sank down upon it, and folded her hands in her lap. Then at last she said in a voice drained of emotion, “It is too late for that.”
“What do you mean?” asked Knife.
“I mean,” said the Queen in the same flat tone, “that you have no idea what you have done-to him, to yourself, and to all of us. I had not believed it possible, not with so little magic left to you, but you have bonded to this human boy, heart and soul-and if you remain apart, it can only end in misery and despair for you both.”
“But we can’t-”
“No,” Amaryllis agreed bleakly, “you cannot be together. In your folly you have doomed both him and yourself. You will languish here in the Oak, flightless and powerless; while he suffers the same torment as Alfred Wrenfield and Philip Waverley did before him, a hopeless longing that can be ended only by death.”
Tremors of horror ran all over Knife’s body, and she leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I never meant-”
“Indeed,” said the Queen. “Which is why I am prepared to grant you mercy-on one condition. For all your recklessness and disobedience, you are the greatest Hunter the Oak has ever known; and you are still, I fear, the only chance we have of finding other faeries before it is too late. If you do this one thing for me, then I will give back to you the magic you have lost, and your power of flight will be fully restored.”
Knife searched the Queen’s face, disbelieving, but Amaryllis’s gaze remained steady. “And the condition?” she asked.
“It is this,” said Amaryllis. “As soon as night falls, you will leave the Oak, armed with the deadliest poison I can give you. You will return to this Paul of yours…and you will kill him.”
Twenty-one
“No!”
Knife spun away from Amaryllis and dashed for the door. She had to find Paul, warn him-But the archway had vanished, as had all the windows, and she could see no exit.
It’s a trick, she thought frantically, just a glamour, it must be. But when she pushed at the place where the door had stood, her outstretched hands found only solid oak. She hammered against its unyielding surface, shouting for help. But no one answered her except the Queen herself:
“Even if I were to let you go, you could not save him. There is only one choice…but first, there is something I want to show you.” Amaryllis waved her hand, and the door sprang open. “Come with me,” she said. “And Knife, I would not do that, if I were you.”
With a hiss Knife snatched her fingers back from the hilt of her dagger, her hand smarting as though she had clutched a thistle. Robbed of her last defense, she could only follow Amaryllis down the corridor and into the
