The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

Jacob tried to read the ground for the answer he’d sought ever since he went to talk to the Bamboo Girl, but not even the vixen could see whether his brother had a jade skin. Will had ridden off with two companions; that much was clear. Fox would have bet her Man-Swan feather that the Bastard was one of them. But the second trail was a mystery. It was made by a lighter body, maybe a woman’s. She seemed to have been injured, and there were bits of bark where the trail began, covered with the same sticky substance they’d found earlier.

Maybe they wouldn’t have noticed the Alder, if not for the silver leaves. Fox approached the tree slowly. The face she spotted in the bark seemed familiar.

Jacob looked around.

They both knew who he was looking for.

“I think she’s riding with your brother,” said Fox. “She and the Bastard.”

Jacob stared at the frozen tree-face as though it could tell him whether his brother had ridden with them willingly, and if so, why he’d chosen such dark companions.

Fox wrapped her arms around him and kissed him so she wouldn’t have to feel the fear she felt stirring inside her, but the joy. Still so much joy.

You have everything you dreamed of, Fox. Everything.

Despite the Fairy.

Despite Will.

Despite the Alderelf, who was still waiting for his payment.

Despite. What a wonderful word, so full of defiance, freedom, courage, hope.

“The Elf got what he wanted,” Jacob whispered. “Maybe he’ll leave us in peace for now. But I’m not counting on it. I promise I’ll find something. Some magic to protect you from him.”

“No,” Fox whispered back. “We. We will find something.”

Jacob buried his face in her hair. He kissed her as though that could make him forget the dead Fairy and Will and his father, and the Elf who’d gotten what he wanted.

“Let’s surprise Chanute and Sylvain,” he said. “We can make it to Kamchatka before they get on the boat.”

That sounded wonderful.

As wonderful as the stolen time in the child-eater’s barn, and in the shepherd’s hut. Or the precious moments on the beach, after they’d survived the sinking of the Albian fleet. They were good at stealing time. Together. But she couldn’t let Jacob run away.

“When, do you think, will you turn around again?” she asked. “Tomorrow? The day after? Who knows, you might even make it for three days. But then you’ll ask me whether I can still find Will’s trail despite his head start.”

Jacob said nothing. His way of admitting she was right. To never let the other forget who they are—love is also about that.

One of the Fairy’s moths was fluttering a little away from the others, hovering over a trickle left from the last rains. Something glistened on the water. Fox bent down and picked it off the damp grass.

A golden thread.

Maybe the Fairy had found the Weaver.

The moth settled on Fox’s shoulder. The dark wings shimmered as if dusted with gold.

Jacob stood by the Fairy’s body. He’d known her name and she’d tried to kill him for it. But she’d also given him his brother back and had saved them all at the Blood Wedding.

The moth fluttered after them as they picked up Will’s trail. Fox didn’t have the heart to chase it away.

No

Was there even one word from the others? Did anyone say, Spieler, you were right? Of course not. Krieger, Letterman, Apaullo—the whole helpers-on-the-other-side faction were too busy stage-managing their return. Who had found Will Reckless? Who had mingled the magic of this world with their own so they could at least send something of themselves through the mirror? Had Guismond been his idea? No! Krieger had wanted a knight. A knight! Who said immortality precluded stupidity? Apaullo had recruited conquistadores, Letterman a papal spy, not to mention all the Stilts, Thumblings, and child-eaters the helpers-on-the-other-side faction had bribed over the centuries. Backward. They were all so hopelessly backward in their thinking, in their dreams. But he wouldn’t let them forget who finally ended their exile. Oh no.

It was simply ridiculous how excited he felt. Were the others nervous? He didn’t even know whether any of them had gone back yet. They each kept the locations of their mirrors as secret as their true form. They’d all tried to find each other’s mirrors, but usually without much success. Letterman’s was most definitely in Fon, and Krieger’s was probably in Nihon.

Spieler had chosen the oldest of his mirrors for his return, made from the first water they’d stolen from the Fairies. A theft they hadn’t even noticed for the longest time...