The Lost Prince. Julie Kagawa

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СКАЧАТЬ it over, I opened the top and pulled out the letter within. I’d read it a dozen times before and knew it word for word, but I scanned the note one more time, a bitter lump settling in my throat.

      Ethan,

      I’ve started this letter a hundred times, wishing I knew the right words to say, but I guess I’ll just come out and say it. You probably won’t see me again. I wish I could be there for you and Mom, even Luke, but I have other responsibilities now, a whole kingdom that needs me. You’re growing up so fast—each time I see you, you’re taller, stronger. I forget, sometimes, that time moves differently in Faery. And it breaks my heart every time I come home and see that I’ve missed so much of your life. Please know that you’re always in my thoughts, but it’s best that we live our own lives now. I have enemies here, and the last thing I want is for you and Mom to get hurt because of me.

      So, this is goodbye. I’ll be watching you from time to time, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and Mom and Luke can live comfortably. But please, Ethan, for the love of all that’s holy, do not try to find me. My world is far too dangerous; you of all people should know that. Stay away from Them, and try to have a normal life.

      If there is an emergency, and you absolutely must see me, I’ve included a token that will take you into the Nevernever, to someone who can help. To use it, squeeze one drop of your blood onto the surface and toss it into a pool of still water. But it can only be used once, and after that, the favor is done. So use it wisely.

      I love you, little brother. Take care of Mom for me.—Meghan

      I closed the letter, put it on the desk, and turned the envelope upside down. A small silver coin rolled into my open palm, and I closed my fingers around it, thinking.

      Did I want to bring my sister into this? Meghan Chase, the freaking Queen of the Iron Fey? How many years had it been since I’d seen her last? Did she even remember us anymore? Did she care?

      My throat felt tight. Pushing myself up, I tossed the coin on the desk and swept the letter back in the drawer, slamming it shut. No, I wasn’t going to go crying to Meghan, not for this or anything. Meghan had left us; she was no longer part of this family. As far as I was concerned, she was Faery through and through. And I’d been through enough faery torment to last several lifetimes. I could handle this myself.

      Even if it meant I had to do something stupid, something I’d sworn I would never do.

      I was going to have to contact the fey.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

       THE EMPTY PARK

      At 11:35 p.m., my alarm went off. I slapped it silent and rolled out of bed, already dressed, snatching my backpack from the floor. Creeping silently down the hall, I checked to see if Mom’s light was off; sometimes she stayed up late, waiting for Dad to get home. But tonight, the crack under her door was dark, and I continued my quiet trek out the front door to the driveway.

      I couldn’t take my truck. Dad would be home later, and he’d know I was gone if he saw my truck was missing. Sneaking out in the middle of the night was highly frowned upon and tended to result in groundings, lectures and technology banishment. So I dug my old bike out of the garage, checked to see that the tires were still inflated and walked it down to the sidewalk.

      Overhead, a thin crescent moon grinned down at me behind ragged wisps of cloud, and a cold autumn breeze sliced right through my jacket, making me shiver. That nagging, cynical part of me hesitated, reluctant to take part in this insanity. Why are you getting involved? it whispered. What’s the half-breed to you, anyway? Are you willing to deal directly with the fey because of him?

      But it wasn’t just Todd now. Something strange was happening in Faery, and I had a feeling it was going to get worse. I needed to know what was going on and how I could defend myself from transparent ghost-fey that sucked the life right out of their victims. I didn’t want to be left in the dark, not with those things out there.

      Besides, Mr. Creepy Faery had threatened not only me but my family. And that pissed me off. I was sick of running and hiding. Closing my eyes, hoping They would leave me alone wasn’t working. I doubted it ever had.

      Hopping on my bike, I started pedaling toward the one place I’d always avoided until now. A place where, I hoped, I would get some answers.

      If the damn fey wanted me as an enemy, bring it on. I’d be their worst nightmare.

      Even in gigantic, crowded cities, where steel buildings, cars and concrete dominate everything, you can always find the fey in a park.

      It doesn’t have to be a big park. Just a patch of natural earth, with a few trees and bushes scattered about, maybe a little pond, and that’s all they need. I’m told Central Park in New York City has hundreds, maybe thousands of faeries living there, and several trods to the Nevernever, all within its well-groomed perimeter. The tiny park three and a half miles from my house had about a dozen fey of the common variety—piskies, goblins, tree sprites—and no trods that I knew of.

      I parked my bike against an old tree near the entrance and gazed around. It wasn’t much of a park, really. There was a picnic bench with a set of peeling monkey bars and an old slide, and a dusty fire pit that hadn’t been used in years. At least, not by humans. But the trees here were old, ancient things—huge oaks and weeping willows—and if you stared very hard between the branches, you sometimes caught flickers of movement not belonging to birds or squirrels.

      Leaving the bike, I walked to the edge of the fire pit and looked down. The ashes were cold and gray, days or weeks old, but I had seen two goblins at this pit several weeks ago, roasting some sort of meat over the fire. And there were several piskies and wood sprites living in the oaks, as well. The local fey might not know anything about their creepy, transparent cousins, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

      Crouching, I picked up a flat rock, dusted it off, and set it in the center of the fire pit. Digging through my pack, I pulled out a bottle of honey, stood and drizzled the golden syrup onto the stones. Honey was like ambrosia to the fey; they couldn’t resist the stuff.

      Capping the bottle, I tossed it into my pack and waited.

      Several minutes passed, which was a surprise to me. I knew the fey frequented this area. I was expecting at least a couple of goblins or piskies to appear. But the night was still, the shadows empty—until there was a soft rustle behind me, the hiss of something moving over the grass.

      “You will not find them that way, Ethan Chase.”

      I turned, calmly. Rule number two: show no fear when dealing with the Fair Folk. I could have drawn my rattan sticks, and in all honesty I really wanted to, but that might have been taken as a sign of nervousness or unease.

      A tall, slight figure stood beneath the weeping willow, watching me through the lacy curtain. As I waited, a slender hand parted the drooping branches and the faery stepped into the open.

      It was a dryad, and the weeping willow was probably her tree, for she had the same long green hair and rough, bark-like skin. She was impossibly tall and slender, and swayed slightly on her feet, like a branch in the wind. She observed me with large black eyes, her long hair draped over her body, and slowly shook her head.

      “They will not come,” she whispered sadly, glancing at the swirl of honey at my feet. “They have not been here for many nights. At first, it was СКАЧАТЬ