to understand that.”
“He doesn’t have to understand anything,” another redcap protested.
Meinrad disagreed. “He must, or we will live out this night again sometime in the future. I doubt it will end so peacefully next time.”
“Peace, my ass!” shouted the first redcap. “There will be no peace!”
The pack surged forward, untethered by their rage. They snarled and heaved, launching themselves across the grotto.
Fairies jumped out of their way. The ones who didn’t were pushed to the ground by angry, clawed hands.
Pikes swung high in the air.
Colby closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
“No!” boomed the Limestone King. With a single outstretched hand, Meinrad raised the earth from the ground, limestone shards as large as a willow tree trunk punching through, kicking debris skyward.
The redcaps slammed headfirst into them.
Colby lost his concentration, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Meinrad raised an angry fist and pointed a stern finger. “Back away. Now.”
The redcaps, leaderless and still punch-drunk from their hit, scrambled to their feet, sheepishly falling back into the crowd.
The limestone receded back into the earth with a grinding rumble.
Meinrad looked over at King Ruadhri—who still stood over Ewan, knife clutched unwavering in his hand. “Let. Him. Up.”
Without making eye contact, Ruadhri lowered the knife and motioned for Ewan to hop off the altar.
Colby and Meinrad stared at each other, each waiting to see what the other would do next.
The only sound in the night was that of shuffling feet nervously shifting weight from one foot to the other. The entirety of the court looked on, holding their breath.
Meinrad nodded, knowingly. He spoke up, no longer any peace or shame in his voice. It was quite clear who was in charge. “Colby Stevens, take your friend and leave this place. The borders of the Limestone Kingdom are open to you no longer. That goes for you as well, Yashar.”
Yashar nodded, a glint of regret in the wilt of his lip. “I figured as much.”
“I imagine at this point there are few kingdoms left in which you can show your face.”
“Not many, but I get by.”
“You truly are as cursed as they say.”
Yashar nodded. He didn’t disagree. “Ewan, Colby. Come on. We’re leaving.”
Colby looked around the stone circle at the fairies, terrified one might change its mind. But no one dared to lift a finger; no one gave pursuit. They only stared, a mixture of melancholy and loss washing over them. No one liked what was happening; no one liked what would come next. For the moment they wanted only for these boys to leave.
Ewan made a slow march through the crowd, fairies stepping out of his way as he approached—each refusing to make eye contact, equally angry and ashamed. They liked him, they always had; but now all the work they’d put into raising him had gone to waste. It was all so unfair.
Then he passed Mallaidh. She looked at him, eyes filled with tears, shaking her head, mouthing wordlessly “I didn’t know.” But he couldn’t look at her. She was one of them. And they wanted him dead. He gritted his teeth, pretending he didn’t care.
“No! Noooo!” cried Knocks. “Stop him! We can’t let him leave.”
“We have to,” whispered one of the redcaps. “Or else they’ll be sweeping us up off the ground with Schafer.”
“No! That’s not fair!”
“If life were fair, Knocks,” said Meinrad from across the crowd, “we wouldn’t have to sacrifice fairies to begin with.”
Ewan walked across the grotto to Colby. “Hi, Colby.”
“Hey, Ewan. I told you I’d come back.”
“Can we go now?” he choked out, fighting off tears.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
Ewan turned back to look at the crowd one last time and saw Dithers standing there, eyes cast into the dirt. Slowly Ewan turned back around.
“It’s okay to cry, you know,” said Yashar. The dam broke, and Ewan began to sob, his whole world having come to an end. Colby took Ewan’s hand in his and the two walked off into the night together. “I’m sorry,” said Yashar to the fairies, then he too disappeared from view into the gloom of the forest.
Back in the circle, Meinrad took a deep breath.
“We have to go after them,” said one of the Sidhe.
“Yeah,” echoed one of the redcaps.
“No,” said Meinrad. He shook his hung head slowly, rock scraping against stone. “We do not raise children to put to the knife because we delight in their bloodshed; we do so that they might take our place. How many of us need to be sacrificed tonight to protect that replacement? So much as one death in