Lee’s trials

Moon gate

*Thalia*

The wood is old pine. It has been cut and shaped for decades, but it still remembers rain. It still remembers reaching upward through soil, its roots spreading around stones and buried bones.

I pull at the memory of leaves.

At first, nothing happens.

Then the brambles outside the cabin begin to move.

I feel them through the wall. Their wet stems coil tighter around the windows. Thorny vines crawl over the roof. Ferns push from the mud beneath the porch and open their fronds against the door.

The cabin disappears beneath green.

Pain travels up my arms, sharp and deep. I clench my teeth.

"Enough," Lee whispers.

Almost.

The last vine curls over the chimney.

The room darkens further.

I pull my hands back.

My knees buckle.

Lee catches me before I hit the floor.

"I've got you," he says.

His voice is rough by my ear.

I lean into him for one breath, maybe two. His arms close around me. The warmth of him seeps through both our wet shirts.

Then a voice sounds outside.

"Prince Lyrian Swiftarrow."

Every muscle in Lee's body locks.

The voice is amplified by magic. It comes from somewhere near the track, flat and clear through the rain.

"By order of Regent Fileas Swiftarrow, you are commanded to return to Eirawen immediately."

Kieran's mouth twists.

"That is a cheerful invitation."

The voice continues.

"Your departure has endangered the health of King Fealor and caused damage to royal property. Lady Thalia Maplebloom is to be detained for questioning regarding unlawful manipulation of palace wards."

My breath catches.

Lee's arms tighten around me.

Ari's face has gone pale with anger.

Kieran moves toward the door.

Lee catches his sleeve. "No."

"They are threatening her… and you."

"They want you to react."

"I can react quietly."

"No." The force in Lee's voice fills the dark cabin.

Kieran turns.

For a second, they stand facing each other, both soaked, exhausted, angry men who have been called princes their entire lives and would rather punch a wall than admit they are scared.

Then Kieran looks at me.

"Your call," he says.

It takes me a second to understand.

Usually, people decide whether I need protecting. Lee does it with tenderness. Others do it with contempt. Strangers do it because dryads are supposed to be peaceful, rooted, harmless until somebody needs a garden rescued.

Kieran waits.

The voice outside repeats the order.

I straighten out of Lee's arms.

"We stay," I say. "We do not hand ourselves over because Fileas has a loudspeaker."

Kieran nods once.

"Good."

Lee looks down at me. His eyes are bright in the thin moonlight. He does not argue.

That changes something small and fierce inside my chest.

Ari steps to the table and picks up a folded square of paper from beside the basin. It is covered in tiny writing and smudged pencil marks.

"What is that?" I ask.

"The vision."

She spreads it flat.

There is a rough sketch of an elevated train line, a red awning, and a streetlamp. Ari has written one phrase three times in the margin.

Look beneath the lights.

"I kept thinking it was advice," she says. "Visions do that. They arrive acting mysterious, then turn out to be pointing at a loose floorboard or a bad decision."

Kieran glances at the page. "You are very soothing."

"I am doing my best."

Her finger traces the drawn tracks.

"Queens has elevated lines in several places. Astoria does. The address is in Astoria. But the man in my vision was not standing outside a house." She looks toward the compass. "He was near a station."

Lee steps closer.

"Which station?"

"I cannot see the sign."

"Can you try again?"

Ari's mouth tightens. "Visions are not a search engine."

"Sorry."

"You should be. That was rude to the moon."

Kieran snorts softly.

The noise breaks something in the room. Lee presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. His shoulders shake once.

I think he is laughing.

Then I realize he is trying not to cry.

No one says anything.

Ari quietly folds the paper in half.

Kieran looks at the floor.

I take Lee's hand.

His fingers close around mine so hard it hurts.

"I am sorry," he says.

"For what?"

"For dragging you into this. For the palace. For the guards outside. For making you choose whether to be arrested because my uncle has decided you are a threat."

I feel anger rise, but it is not for him.

"You did not make Fileas say those things."

"I brought you there."

"Yes." I step closer. "And I chose to go. I chose the archives. I chose the river. I chose this cabin."

His eyes meet mine.

"I keep telling you this because you keep forgetting. I am not baggage, Lee."

"I know."

"Then act like it."

His throat moves. "I will."

This time he does not say it quickly.

Outside, the magical voice cuts off.

For a moment, the forest holds its breath.

Then blue light flashes through the brambles over the front window.

The vines jerk against the wall.

Kieran has his knife out before the second flash comes.

"They are burning through," he says.

Ari moves toward the basin. "The moon gate is ready."

I look at the silver water.

"It is ready?" Lee asks.

"It is not ideal. The storm is still covering half the sky, and I have never opened one from a railway cabin before."

"Can it take us to New York?"

Ari looks at him.

"It can take us to the Moon Market beneath Grand Central. That is the closest stable gate I know."

Kieran's expression turns grim. "Then we surface in Manhattan."

"Yes."

"And get to Queens how?"

"By train," I say.

All three of them look at me.

"What?" I ask. "Humans built an enormous underground transportation system. It is useful. Sometimes it smells terrible, but useful."

Another blue bolt strikes the cabin.

The front wall shudders. Dust rains from the ceiling.

Ari lifts both hands over the basin. Moonlight rises from the water in a twisting column, silver and white, filling the room with cold brightness.

The air smells of snow.

"Get close," she says. "And do not let go."

Kieran grabs the canvas bag from the floor, then takes Ari's free hand.

Lee looks at the compass.

It is still pointing east.

Toward home.

Toward Fealor, sick in bed. Toward Nessa and Edris and a city sealed behind its own roots. Toward Fileas.

The front door splinters.

Lee flinches.

I take the compass from his hand.

He looks at me, startled.

"We are finding your father," I say. "Then we come back."

For a second, I think he might ask me to promise it.

Instead, he nods.

I press the compass back into his palm and lace my fingers through his.

The door breaks inward.

A guard shouts.

Ari brings her hands down.

The silver light swallows us whole.