Free Rise of the Darklings by Paul Crilley Page A

passage. This golden tunnel was empty but for two tall fey standing beside a large double door. They wore armor made of polished wood and had white hair that was braided down their backs.
    “Who are they?” whispered Emily. “They look different from the others.”
    “The Tuatha de Danaan. The aristocracy. The Queen’s soldiers.” He paused and turned to Emily. “Don’t say anything rude. All right?”
    Emily drew herself up, offended. “I’m not rude.”
    Corrigan raised his hands in surrender. “Right. Fine. Of course not. Then don’t say anything … 
plain
. Just … hold your tongue.”
    As they walked down the passage, the music became louder, and Emily could hear the sound of laughter.
    Corrigan stopped before the two guards. They didn’t even look down. Emily stood nervously behind him.
    “Hoy,” he called.
    No response. Emily frowned. They were doing it on purpose. She knew their type. Nothing but bullies.
    “Excuse me,” she said icily. “I believe we are to see your Queen.”
    The music stopped in the room beyond the door. The fey looked down at her. Their eyes were the blackest pitch with small white pupils. Emily had seen the same coloring on the eyes of some of the other fey, but on the Queen’s guards the effect was much more disconcerting. She could see no emotion there. Just cold, hard … 
emptiness
.
    “What did I say?” Corrigan whispered furiously. “Didn’t I say to keep your big mouth shut?”
    “But all—”
    Before she could finish, the fey guards stepped aside. Now Emily could see the doors clearly for the first time. There was a pattern carved into the surface, standing out against the wood in heavy relief. The carving was of a hill, and on top of the hill were seven trees, spaced evenly around its crown. Inside this circle of trees, faeries and goblins, gnomes and piskies danced under the sun.
    A second later, the doors swung silently inward. When Emily saw what was in the room beyond, she took a nervous step back.
    She found herself looking into a vast ballroom, the floor a mosaic pattern of black and white. The fey stood around the edges of the room, dressed in fine clothes that were a hundred years out of date. They stared at Emily and Corrigan, pale and cold, some with fans in front of their faces, others wearing masks carved to resemble woodland creatures: here a crow staring at her, there an owl with black eyes glinting behind the holes, and a rat with a golden glance.
    Around these tall, graceful creatures were an assortment of other fey. Some she had seen already—the strange people with their backs hollowed out, creatures with the heads of foxes. But there were others, as well. Tiny creatures rode around the chamber on the backs of squirrels and rats. Some of them flew on robins and hawks around the high rafters. Creatures slightly taller than Corrigan served drinks among the gentry. The servers were old and wizened, like older versions of Alfrig and Mrs. and Mr. Stintle.
    “You will enter,” said a voice, and Emily found herself obeying even before she knew what she was doing. She walked past the ranks of the fey, their eyes following her every step. She looked down at her feet and noticed how tatty her shoes were compared to everything else aroundher. She shouldn’t be walking on such fine tiles dressed like this.
    “Look upon me,” said the voice.
    Emily looked up and saw the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes upon. The Fairie Queen was tall and pale, her hair the red of sunsets upon freshly fallen snow. Her eyes were golden, glowing with warmth and power. She wore a gown so light it floated about her, like spiderwebs on a breeze.
    The Queen sat on a throne carved from dark wood and molded to her shape, so that she seemed to be a part of the carving. Emily heard giggling and saw that there were fey children behind the throne. They reached out to touch the Queen’s gown, stroking the fabric while staring at Emily and whispering amongst