The Unready Queen, стр. 14
The queen said nothing.
“Or what a fine one her granddaughter is going ta become,” Nudd added.
The queen sighed. “I fear that transition may be a difficult one.”
Nudd frowned. “Well. All transitions are—”
“I’ve spoken to Kallra.”
Nudd put a hand to his brow. “Otch! No wonder yer so sour today! Never go in for prophecies, myself—what sort of fool asks a fortune teller about her own death? Are ye new, queenie? Thought ya had more sense than that!”
“I did not ask about my own death. I asked about Fable becoming queen.”
“Same thing, innit?”
The queen sagged. “It is possible I have been a fool.”
“Well.” Nudd softened and gave her a sympathetic half smile. “What’s done is done. Let’s have it—what did the slippery spirit tell ya?”
She recited the prophecy numbly.
“A single shot of lead and brass, eh?” Nudd took a deep, bracing breath. “Bullet, then? That’s na so bad, as deaths go.”
The queen raised a skeptical brow.
“There’s an end comin’ fer us all, Raina. No use frettin’ over it. Yer bullet is likely a very long way off. Loads o’ time, yet. Ye’ll be a proper old hag by the time it finds ya.”
The queen nodded. In the back of her mind, however, she could not help but recall that the face she had seen in that pond—her daughter’s face, caked in soot and blood and flowing tears—had still been so young.
“And if Fable isn’t ready when the time comes? What then?”
“Well, of course she won’t be ready. Were you? Ya think I was ready ta be chief when my father died? Been at it fer ages now, and I’m still barely ready most mornings. We’re never ready until we need ta be. Yer gonna have ta get used to the idea that ya won’t ever see Fable become the queen she’s meant ta be. That’s just how it works. I’m sorry, Raina. Just gotta do yer best by her until then. She’ll be all right, though. Iffin it makes ya feel any better, I’ll keep an eye on her. Just like I’ve kept an eye on you.”
The queen nodded. “Just how long do goblins live, exactly?” she asked.
Nudd smiled and leaned back against the soft wood. “Long enough,” he said, “ta pay our debts.”
EIGHT
“I think it might be best if we take Fable home,” Annie said as they made their way back up the dusty street and away from the milling crowd. People had already begun dispersing by the time the town’s entire police force—all five officers—had arrived to help control the chaos.
“Aw—but I just got here,” said Fable.
“And I’m sure your mother will be worried sick. Does she even know you’re in town?”
“Yes. Of course she knows. Obviously. Sort of.”
“That’s very reassuring. You’re going home.”
“Aww. But I was doing really good. I went to school. And not just the outside part where Tinn was hiding—I went inside and did writing and numbers and everything. My picture was the best one of the whole class.”
“Nobody else was drawing pictures,” said Cole.
“Hold on,” said Annie. “Why was Tinn hiding?”
Fable shrugged. “People hide sometimes. I know a guy who’s really good at hiding. He looks just like tree bark, so he can hide right in front of your face. Also, he’s a lizard. He lives in the forest. I’m a pretty good hider, too. Wanna see me hide somewhere?”
“Please don’t, sweetie. Would you give us just a moment? Boys, family chat.”
Fable rocked on her heels while the Burtons stepped to the side of the road for a private conversation.
“Did Mrs. Burton say they’re taking you home?” Evie said. “Like, all the way back to New Fiddleham?”
“Where? Oh! Ha, ha. No. I don’t really live there,” said Fable. “That’s just our special made-up story that I’m supposed to tell people if they ask me about it. It’s a lie, but Annie says it’s the good kind of lie that’s okay because it doesn’t hurt anybody, and because people won’t really believe that I’m from the Wild Wood anyway. I’m getting really good at lying. Wanna hear me do it?”
Evie blinked. “You’re from the Wild Wood?”
“I am not from the Wild Wood,” said Fable.
Evie stared at her. “What?”
“Pretty good, right?” said Fable, proudly. “I used to have a hard time with lying, but I’m way better now. You totally believed me.”
“Right,” said Evie. “But really you are from the Wild Wood?”
“Yeah. Me and my mama. She’s the Queen of the Deep Dark. Tinn and Cole say she’s famous or something.”
Evie stared. “Yeah,” she said. “Right. Your mom’s the Queen of the Deep Dark, Witch of the Wild Wood, Mother of Monsters?”
“Yup,” said Fable, kicking a bit of cracked brick across the road. “I mean . . . that last one’s not my favorite, but that’s her.”
“No way. Prove it,” said Evie. “Do something witchy.”
“What’s witchy?”
“I don’t know. Something magical.”
Fable considered. “Hmm. I’m not supposed to turn into a bear around people, and I’m not good at my mama’s sort of magic yet.”
“Did you say a bear?”
“Ooh! I could doslappy sparks. That one’s easy. Your hair’s not super flammable, is it?”
“Just regular flammable, I think.”
Fable spread her hands wide and then clapped once, hard. A shower of sparks tumbled from between her palms for just an instant, as if from a welder’s torch. Evie jumped.
“It’s better at night,” said Fable.
Evie’s eyes went wide. She glanced up and down the street, but nobody appeared to be looking their way. “Holy heck!” she whispered. “That’s amazing!”
Fable nodded, grinning. Her mother usually scolded her for slappy sparks. “Right? It is amazing. Thank you.”
Across the street, Annie furrowed her brow. “You changed?” she whispered. “In the middle of class?”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Tinn. “It just sorta happened.”
“Nobody saw,” said Cole.
“I knew it was a bad idea to