The Boy with the Hidden Name Page 10

  “It is time,” says Will. “The clocks are ticking.”

  “That is not my concern. I do not establish the time, Mr. Blaxton.”

  “Don’t you want to help us?” I ask desperately. “Isn’t that why you hid the fays? Because you want to help us fulfill the prophecy?”

  “Do you know about the prophecy, little fay?” she asks me, sounding half-amused and half-dismissive of how stupid I am.

  “Yes,” I say stubbornly. “I know all about it.” I try to pretend that means I’m also going to know what I can do to fulfill it.

  “You do not. Because if you knew about the prophecy, then you would know that I didn’t necessarily hide the fays because I wanted them to overthrow the Seelie Court. There is a warring prophecy. Did you not tell her this, Mr. Blaxton?”

  I look at Will, confused.

  Will says, “There is always a warring prophecy. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, but it does. The prophecy you want to fulfill is the overthrow of the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts. Does it seem likely that I wish that prophecy fulfilled, given the home I have found here?”

  I feel cold, because now that she mentions it, that doesn’t seem likely. “What’s the warring prophecy?”

  “That one of the fays would go to the Isle of Avalon and consolidate Seelie power forever.”

  Which was why I had been wanted in the Seelie Court, I remember. Why I wasn’t named immediately.

  “So you want that prophecy to be fulfilled?” I say, because that doesn’t make sense to me either.

  “I don’t want any prophecies to come into play at all. I like the status quo. I’ve done quite well for myself with the status quo. Why should I introduce interfering fays who don’t know what they’re doing into the equation? You know just enough to destroy everything. So I hid the others. You slipped through my fingers and fell to my son, who has all sorts of interesting thoughts about power in the Otherworld. Really, he and I have just begun to explore the wonder of his politics. As for the other three fays, if your prophecy was really meant to be fulfilled, you’d have found them already. After all, don’t you, little fay, have a habit of collecting exactly what you need?” She leans toward me, her eyes flashing. She has eyes that at first glance are like Ben’s, a swirl of pale impressions of color, but as they slice into me, icy silver, I realize that they are not at all like Ben’s.

  And that makes me angry. I am so tired of being betrayed by faeries, I think.

  “So you’re not going to help us?” I demand.

  “Help you? How quaint that you thought I ever was. How very human of you, really.” She looks to Will and Ben. Will is frowning at her, but Ben is staring at the food in front of him, his face a mask. “That is your fault, you know. The two of you hid her too well. She is unused to such delicate and intricate creatures as we. We are not your usual coarse ogres or goblins.”

  I take offense at the ogre dig, but Ben’s mother is no longer looking at me. Her focus seems to have shifted to the Erlking down the table. The rest of us glance at the Erlking as well. As if sensing all of us, he looks up and winks in our direction.

  “He’s insufferable,” proclaims Ben’s mother.

  “Isn’t he just?” Will agrees, studying his wine. He is no longer frowning. In fact, he looks very calm and at ease.

  Ben’s mother rises suddenly, startling me, and I think that she is going to do something to Will. I tense for it, but she merely sweeps by us and then settles next to the Erlking, listening as raptly as the rest of the other Unseelies.

  “Insufferable,” Will murmurs at his wine, “but so very useful to have around.” He takes a sip. “A creature whose talent is seduction.”

  “Well, now he’s just showing off,” comments Kelsey.

  I glance back over at the Erlking, who appears to be on the verge of outright making out with one of the male Unseelies.

  “How did he get involved?” Ben asks. He sounds impatient and annoyed.

  “He’s a friend of Will’s,” Kelsey answers.

  “Will,” says Ben. “Are we never going to come to the end of your conquests?”

  Kelsey and I both look from the Erlking, murmuring now in Ben’s mother’s ear, to Will.

  “He—I—It’s—” Will stammers. “He’s very good at—Never mind.” Will clears his throat and puts his wineglass on the table. “He got us into the Unseelie Court, didn’t he? And he’s got everyone distracted. Enough that I’ve got their listening charms blocked and they haven’t noticed. So let’s stop talking about the Erlking and start focusing on the fact that we need to get out of here. All of us.” He looks at Ben meaningfully, the emphasis not subtle. Ben doesn’t protest that he’s coming with us, and I can’t tell if I’m surprised or not. I thought before that maybe this had all been a happy reunion for him, but it doesn’t seem like it is now. “So how are we doing it?” asks Will.

  “I don’t know,” Ben says. “I especially don’t even understand how you got in here.”

  “We walked,” Will informs him flatly. He seems to be losing his patience.

  “Then I would suggest you try walking out,” remarks Ben.

  “That’s your plan? We just get up and start walking?” drawls Will.

  “I don’t have a plan,” Ben snaps at him. “I’m a faerie, remember? And I especially don’t have a plan for this. None of you were ever supposed to be here. You’re the ones who showed up. No one asked you to come. I was perfectly fine.”

  “We need you for the prophecy, Benedict,” Will clips out at him. “And the Seelies are closing in. We don’t have time to sit around waiting for you to be done with your foolish, headstrong lark.”

  “I don’t understand why the prophecy can’t be fulfilled without me. What more can I do? I kept a fay safe for as long as I could. I believe my obligations are completed.”

  “Oh,” I say hotly, “your obligations?”

  “You know what I mean—”

  “And you know that prophecies don’t work like that,” Will interrupts him. “The prophecy is a mess right now, because you’ve made a mess of it, but when it was readable, you figured into it. Four fays, and you. We don’t have the four fays; let’s at least have you. Give us a bit of a fighting chance here?”

  Ben looks uncertain. It is not a look I see often on Ben, and honestly, it’s not one I like to see. Especially not now. He licks his lips and his eyes flicker to his mother, still hanging on the Erlking’s every word.

  “Will,” he says slowly, “is your blocking enchantment firm?”

  “Yes, the Unseelies are distracted.” Will looks toward the Erlking, and I look in that direction instinctively. The Erlking briefly meets Will’s eyes and then abruptly leans over and kisses Ben’s mother passionately. “Your mother most of all,” says Will. “Talk quickly.”

  Ben takes a shaky breath. He looks terrified abruptly, and answering terror squeezes coldly around me. “I don’t think I can get out of here,” he says, staring at the empty plate in front of him.

  “What do you mean?” asks Will.

  “I haven’t tried. Actually, I don’t want to try. I don’t want her to get suspicious or think I’m trying to leave, but I feel like I can’t travel away from here. I feel like I’m damp, all the time.”

  I stare at him. “That’s why you were unsure about getting everyone on the other side of the dragon pit,” I realize.

  He meets my eyes and admits, “I wasn’t sure I could get over there. I’m honestly amazed I could even save you. I can move around the Unseelie Court fairly freely, but I don’t think I can leave here, not even the conventional way, not even if I walk.”

  “But we have to get you out of here with us,” I say. “This was a trap. Your mother did this to lure you away from us. She wants to thwart both prophecies. As long as you’re here, we can’t bring down the Courts. We’re stuck.”


  Ben doesn’t look at me. He looks up at the ceiling high above us and fiddles with his fork. “I didn’t think it was a trap,” he says. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d thought…”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Will inserts impatiently. “Benedict, she has you pinned.”

  Ben looks at him. He looks exhausted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “She’s pinned you into place. And it’s Le Fay magic, so it’s your own energy turning against you. That’s why you’re feeling damp; she’s using your energy to hold you in place.”

  “Clever,” allows Ben, sounding bitter. He fiddles some more with his fork.

  “No.” Will leans toward him urgently. “You’re missing the point. You’re keeping yourself here—this is your energy being stolen. Break it.”

  “It isn’t my energy, Will. It was my energy. She’s commandeered it.”

  “Listen to me,” Will says to him, speaking very firmly and clearly. “Listen to me, and believe this, because you never have, and you’ve always needed to: you are stronger than her. You’ve always been stronger than her. Stop letting her enchant you and break it.”

  “I’m not letting her do this, Will,” Ben snaps. He looks furious now, his eyes sliding into silver as he glares at Will, the resemblance to his mother just that tiny bit stronger, and I might shudder without meaning to.

  “Yes, you are,” Will insists. “You don’t even realize it. Benedict, they have been planning this from the moment of your birth. Do you know the only way your mother can beat you? It’s the only way any faerie in the Otherworld can beat you: by making you believe that they can. And she’s done it your whole life, her and your father and everyone, spinning the tale and winding it into the heart of you, the legend of your mother, the greatest enchantress in the Otherworld, the great traveler, who you have been chasing your entire life. She never existed, Benedict. She’s a grand myth to trap you in.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Will. She hid one of my names from them; she’s protected me my whole life. They could have killed me long ago to stop this prophecy before it began. Why would she protect me only to do this to me instead?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t answer that. But I know I’m right about one thing: if you fight her, you will win.”

  Ben is silent. He still looks terrified. He glances toward his mother, but I keep my eyes on him. Will’s story is astonishing, and I’m not sure if he believes what he’s saying or if he’s just trying to give Ben a pep talk.

  Ben looks back at Will. “She knows my name, Will. All of it. She’s the only being in creation who can name me. Do you know how easy it has always been for me, knowing that no matter what I did, no one could ever really get to me? They could hurt me, yes. They could weaken me and torture me and bring me pain, but they couldn’t dissolve me. I’ve never had to be brave, Will. And the truth is that I don’t know if I am. She could name me, and I don’t want to cross her. I don’t know if I can take that risk.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m terrified.”

  I feel for him. I don’t want to feel for him now that he’s getting a taste of how the rest of us live. But he looks so lost and scared and very young in the grips of it. I have always thought of Ben as older than me, by some indiscriminate amount of time, but he seems now much younger. This is experience I have, living with the looming, suffocating feeling of fear.

  And I realize now that Will is right. The Ben I know—confident and secure in his own abilities—would have walked out of the Unseelie Court long ago. He would have found a way. We may not get out of here alive, but it isn’t even worth the effort unless Ben believes.

  “All anybody ever tells me,” I remark nonchalantly, “is how you’re the best at everything.” Ben looks at me in surprise, and I tick things off on my fingers. “The best traveler in the Otherworld, the best enchanter in the Otherworld, the best kisser in the Otherworld.” I look at him, meeting his eyes firmly. “You’re Benedict Le Fay,” I remind him. “She’s been here this whole time, Ben. She could have named you whenever she wanted. You said it yourself—she could have done it so easily. And she hasn’t. You know why? She doesn’t think she can beat you. She can’t even keep you here without using your own energy to do it.”

  Ben shakes his head a bit. “All she’d have to do is—”

  “She doesn’t think she can beat you,” I repeat firmly, keeping my gaze locked on his.

  I see Will out of the corner of my eye, watching Ben’s expression avidly. He looks as if he barely dares to move.

  Ben breaks my gaze after a long moment of tense silence. He shifts his eyes toward his mother and then looks over my shoulder. I glance in that direction, at the archway we entered through. There is a door in that archway now, heavy and oak, whereas it had been wide open when we’d walked in.

  I look back at Ben. He is frowning. His frown deepens. He shifts in his seat.

  “Will, I need you to drop the blocking enchantment. You’re blocking me,” he says suddenly without taking his eyes from the door.

  It is less than a second after he says this that a chair topples over at the Erlking’s end of the table. Ben’s mother’s chair, I realize, and I am busy looking in that direction when, less than a second after that, there is a loud crash as the door to the banquet hall flings itself open and collides with the wall. A gust of wind sends wineglasses tumbling over up and down the table, splintering against the stone, wine spilling over the table, red as blood. The wind whips at the hair in my ponytail and at the flowing material of my gown. There are exclamations of surprise and rising panic from Unseelies as they hasten to avoid the streams of wine and try to duck away from the howl of the gale.

  I look at Ben, pushing my hair out of my eyes. He is sitting calmly in his seat, regarding his mother, his eyes pale as a windowpane.

  When I look down at his mother, she is still in a heap on the floor, staring at him in astonishment. And something else, which looks to me like fear.

  “I think,” Ben announces clearly over the groan of the wind as it slaps against the walls of the banquet hall, “that we are going.” He rises and starts walking, and the rest of us scramble out of our seats to follow him. He pauses only once, in the doorway, to throw over his shoulder, “Come along, Erlking. That means you as well.”

  The Erlking is already striding over to us. His black velvet cloak looks very dramatic in the strong wind. “How very gracious of you, Benedict,” he says cordially as he walks through the doorway with the rest of us.

  “I am nothing if not gracious,” Ben replies lightly, and then watches the door to the banquet hall slam shut behind all of us. The wind immediately dies down. We stand in a calm and deserted hallway, staring at the closed door.

  “She’s strong,” Ben says after a moment. “I’m not going to be able to hold her in there for long. And she’s probably going to name me as soon as she gets out. So we should get going.”

  “Excellent,” the Erlking agrees. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Yes,” Ben answers. “We’re going to take the corgis. This way.” He takes off down the hallway.

  “We’re going to ride giant dogs to save the world,” says Kelsey. “My grandkids are never even going to believe this story.”

  And then we take off after Ben.

  CHAPTER 10

  We are running for only a few seconds before Ben abruptly skids to a stop and turns around, making a motion with his arm as if he is flinging something. He turns again just as quickly, picking up the run again.

  “Hurry up!” he calls to us without even looking behind him, and there comes the sound of a small explosion behind us.

  “What was that?” Kelsey asks, panting as we run.

  “Never mind,” Ben responds. He is gasping for breath too. “Keep moving.”

  Thunder rumbles, which is startling, since we’re not outside. I glance up, watching clouds ga
ther over our heads, curling along the ceiling above us. Ben looks up too.

  “I’ve got you covered,” Will calls to him, and indeed, when the rain opens up, while it soaks the rest of us, it doesn’t even touch Ben. He turns back and flings something again before resuming his flat-out run, and there is another small explosion. Then, abruptly, in front of me, he stumbles.

  I’m running so close to him that I knock into him, and I’m worrying that I’ve gotten him wet, but he regains his balance, moving off at a dead run again. The Erlking is ahead of us, his cloak billowing as he wheels around a corner. I wonder how he knows where to go, but Ben turns around the same corner, so he must be going the right way.

  Ben stumbles again, reaching out and grabbing at the wall to keep his balance, and I realize then that he is not okay. He is gasping for breath, but it’s not from running. It’s from something else; there is a tearing edge to it.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, drawing next to him. I don’t dare touch him, because I’m soaking wet.

  He shakes his head. “Keep moving.”

  Will has caught up to us and is looking at Ben in concern. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t sever the connection between us. She’s trying to turn my enchantments back on me.”

  “She’s purposely draining you,” says Will.

  “Benedict Le Fay.”

  His name, shouted along the hallway, reverberates. Ben winces a bit but says, “Well, you were right about that. She’s not especially good at naming.”

  Will is looking down the hallway. “We have to keep moving. Keep going.”

  Ben nods and straightens and moves forward but then snaps backward. Will and I turn back to him. He takes another step, pushing as if he is swimming through pudding or something.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. Safford and Kelsey have turned back. I sense them come up behind us.

  Ben takes another step, frowning. “I’m going to have to just fight it out with her,” he decides. “She’s literally pulling me back.”