Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,8
from the photo on the TV appeal. Her name was Clare and she was a model. They all were. It was probably why they were taken and why it hadn’t bothered him that they were rather gaunt. He pulled his rucksack off his back and found the crisps.
“I wouldn’t give those to them,” the faerie said, zipping in between him and the others, who cowered away from it.
“Why not?”
“Don’t believe anything they say!” the man said, snatching the bag of crisps from his hand and opening them. They closed around him like pigeons around crumbs.
In moments they were retching and spitting out lumps of chewed potato. The man threw the packet on the ground and the faerie dashed behind Sam. “You think that’s some sort of sick joke?”
“I told you,” the faerie whispered.
“Oh, no.” Clare pointed to something behind Sam. “It’s one of them.”
Sam turned to see Lord Poppy strolling down the hill, swinging his black cane back and forth. He was exactly the same as the last time Sam saw him – long black hair and black eyes with skin like a lily petal – bringing back unwelcome memories of being licked in the ear and held by poppies as the Fool’s Charm was broken. He wished Cathy was with him to step forward and handle it. He realised the models were hiding behind him instead.
“Ah! The little mundane my favourite brought to me! Did she send you back as a gift this time?”
“No, she did not!” Sam pressed against his wedding ring with his thumb. The last time they met he wasn’t wearing it. “And before you try anything dodgy –” he thrust his left hand towards Poppy’s face, fingers spread “– I’m protected by Lord Iron.”
“How terribly exciting for you. Could you explain why that’s relevant? Am I threatening your person?”
Sam lowered his hand, aware of the people cowering behind him as if he were the only thing protecting them from a rabid dog. “Um…”
“Irrelevant then, it seems. And it’s such an ugly ring. Wouldn’t you rather take it off and put it in your pocket so its ugliness isn’t inflicted on everyone around you?”
Sam nodded, pulled it from his finger and did as Poppy suggested. He wondered why the people behind him were groaning.
Poppy’s smile didn’t seem to cheer them up. “Now tell me, has my faerie been helpful?”
The faerie fluttered next to Lord Poppy, giving Sam a hopeful smile. “Yeah.”
“She brought you into Exilium, I understand.”
“Yeah.”
“And led you to these poor little waifs and strays.”
“Yeah.”
“And what do you plan to do with them? No one wants them. They’re soiled now. They smell of the Rose. Never has a scent been so unfashionable.”
“I’m going to take them home.”
Poppy tittered and watched Sam for a moment. “You’re telling the truth!” He flapped his free hand as the faerie accompanied his melodic laughter with its own soprano harmony.
“What’s so funny? They were kidnapped!”
“But,” Poppy said, dabbing at the corner of his eye with a slender finger, “they’ll die if you take them back to Mundanus.”
Sam glanced at the crisp packet at his feet. Would they be incapable of eating anything at home? Or was that something to do with being in Exilium? “We’re willing to take the risk.” He twisted to look at them. “Right?”
All of them nodded.
“So be it.”
“And we’re leaving now.”
“So soon? But we’ve hardly had a chance to enjoy the day. It’s a very special one. My favourite is being married to a very pretty boy.” Sam had been certain Cathy had more time. “They moved the date,” Poppy added. “She’s captivated the Iris boy to the extent that he begged his father to marry them as soon as possible. Isn’t that romantic?”
But she had been determined to find a way out. Sam jolted. That’s what he needed to do! “We need to go now.”
“Before we’ve settled my compensation?”
“Oh, no.” Sam sighed. “Look, I told you–”
“Because it would be so dreadfully impolite to accept help from my faerie – twice – and simply leave without a token of your gratitude. Or rather two of them.”
Sam folded his arms. “Like that time you took one of my memories?”
“Yes, but I don’t want another. I took the one I liked the best, the rest are horribly dull. No, I want you to do two things for me, such easy tasks. It being my favourite’s wedding day has filled me with generosity, it seems. You’re lucky she likes you. Otherwise I would have cursed you to believe you’ll