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Sixteen was on her knees, but in contrast to her brother, she still had her shape. She could even move one arm; all else had turned to wood. Will touched her face. She was trying hard to make it look at least a little human, but her skin was reflecting the gathering night. The Pup kissed her anyway. So touching. Smitten with a glass girl.
He didn’t even notice when Nerron picked up the crossbow.
There. Won. Lost. Won. Lost. Won.
This wasn’t quite the ending he’d hoped for, but that didn’t make it a bad one. Except for the Fairy. The stag had almost freed himself. Careful, Nerron. Skewered by a stag with the crossbow in his hand? Well, why not try it on an animal for a change? Would all deer die with him? Whatever. The Bastard wouldn’t miss them. The bolt slid out of the Fairy’s chest as though out of water.
Hurry, Bastard.
The stag reared up and tore through the last vines.
What antlers! The beast lowered its head, but it ignored the crossbow as well the Goyl who was aiming it at him. Surprise! He was going for the Pup!
Good. And why not? Let the stag take care of the Pup. Nerron liked it when others did the killing for him, and the stag would probably not object if Nerron claimed the head and sent it to Jacob Reckless.
Milk-face was still kneeling next to what had been a girl of silver and glass.
He didn’t even look around!
Nerron cursed as he lifted the crossbow.
He cocked the glass string, though his fingers ached as if he’d
bathed them in acid.
Damn, damn, damn.
The Bastard, who was so proud of thinking only of himself, was now playing the savior. And this time he didn’t even have an excuse.
The stag still wasn’t paying any attention to him. Maybe it was the crossbow. Magic weapons often made their victims blind to the danger they posed. Nerron caught him in midair. The bolt hit his unprotected side. The stag stumbled toward the Pup—he really didn’t give up easily—and then he collapsed, with a groan that sounded almost human.
An onyx wouldn’t have left the antlers behind, but the Bastard was no friend of hunting trophies. The crossbow was lighter in his hand than he remembered. The last time he’d shot it was at Jacob Reckless. Much more satisfying. He found the swindlesack on the ground and pulled it over the weapon. Which leaves us with what’s next, Nerron.
The Pup was actually scraping the bark off Sixteen’s body. He did it carefully, as though he were uncovering treasure. The jade boy and the glass girl. Well, if that didn’t sound like a fairy tale. Time to give it a bad ending.
Yes. Who was to say he hadn’t had a good reason to save him from the stag? Why leave his final revenge to some big buck, the revenge he’d traveled so far to get? Nerron didn’t even want to know whether he was seeking payback for the humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of Jacob Reckless or for how the Jade Goyl had betrayed his maker.
But he did. He knew the answer.
Damn, he just had to look at the Pup to feel sick with disappointment. He wanted to make gloves from his pink baby skin, light a fire with his bodyguards and spit-roast the Pup over it. The Jade Goyl was now again nothing but a snail face. And that made the whole damn world seem as empty as the eyes of the Fairy, as dead as the stag. There should be a law against telling fairy tales to children, and anyone who broke it should have their tongue cut out.
He stepped behind the Pup and drew his pistol.
“Forget her!” he said, aiming at the pale dunce’s head. “We’re leaving. Why do you think she made eyes at you? She knew what would happen when she got too close to the Fairy. Why else do you think they needed you? I wonder what they have in common with their Elf fathers? Quite a lot, apparently.”
There was something in the way the Pup turned.
Stop dreaming, Nerron.
“We can’t just leave her here. She’s still alive.”
“Alive? I’m not sure that’s what she ever was. Did you see her eyes? Maybe we should cut them open. Maybe then you’ll believe me.”
Yes. Oh, there it came. Pale green, like the old ponds in the royal fortress. Nothing more beautiful beneath the earth. Not beneath, and not above. The joy that flooded Nerron was as strong as when he’d last felt it as a child.
Once upon a time. No, now upon a time.
The Pup was one of them. Still. And forever. The rage in his eyes was Goyl in golden letters. Thank the Fairy!
