Fox and Clara were nowhere to be seen, and neither was Valiant. Will remained standing in front of his King. The bodyguards had formed a wall of gray uniforms around Kami’en. The other Goyl were trying to fight their way through the crowds to join them, but the imperials shot them down like farmers shooting rabbits in a harvested field.
And you took care of the Dark Fairy for them, Jacob. He pushed his way through to the altar, but one of the imperial Dwarfs immediately jumped him. Jacob elbowed him in the face.
Screams and shots. Silk soaking up blood on the marble flagstones. The imperials were everywhere, but the Goyl stood their ground. Will and the King were still unharmed, though it hardly seemed possible. The Goyl supposedly prepared their skin for battle by exposing it to heat and by eating a plant they bred especially for that purpose. It seemed they had done just that for the wedding. Even Hentzau was back on his feet. But there were at least ten guardsmen for every Goyl.
Jacob gripped the golden ball, but it was impossible to get a clear throw. Will was surrounded by imperials, and Jacob could barely lift his arm without one of the soldiers stumbling into him. They were lost. All of them. Will. Clara. Fox.
Another Goyl fell, then Hentzau went down, and Will was the last man shielding the King. Two imperials attacked the Goyl. Will killed them both, though one of them rammed his saber deep into Will's shoulder. "Kami’en needs him!" The Fairy had known. The Jade Goyl, her lover's shield. His brother.
Will's uniform was soaked with the blood of Goyl and humans. The King and he were fighting back-to-back, but they were already surrounded by white uniforms. Soon not even their Goyl skins would save them.
Do something, Jacob. Anything!
Jacob saw a flash of red fur between the benches, and Valiant standing protectively in front of a crouched figure. Clara. He couldn't tell whether she was still alive. Right next to them, a Goyl was fighting four imperials. And the Empress was sitting behind her carved roses, waiting for the death of her enemy.
Jacob fought his way up the steps to the enclosure. Donnersmarck was standing right next to the Empress. Their eyes met. I warned you, his said.
Will was fighting three imperials at once. Blood was running down his face. Pale Goyl blood.
Do something, Jacob.
An imperial soldier knocked his arm as he reached for his handkerchief. The willow leaves scattered onto one of the many fallen bodies. Goyl and humans. Whose side are you on, Jacob? But he could no longer think of sides, just of his brother, and of Clara and Fox. He managed to snatch up a few of the leaves, and he screamed the name of the Dark Fairy into the roar of the battle.
The bark was still peeling from her arms as she suddenly appeared in front of the altar steps, her long hair covered in willow leaves. She lifted her hands, and glass tendrils grew up around the King and Will, deflecting sword blades and bullets as if they were children's toys. Jacob saw his brother collapse, saw the King catch him in his arms. The Dark Fairy, however, began to grow like a flame fanned by the wind, and the moths swarmed from her hair, thousands of black insects, latching on to the flesh of humans and Dwarfs wherever they could find it.
The Empress tried to flee, but her Dwarfs and her guards were already collapsing under the onslaught of the moths, and then they also found her skin.
Human skin. Fox was wearing her fur, but where was Clara?
Jacob leaped over the dead and the wounded, whose screams and groaning filled the cathedral. He reached the bottom of the altar steps. Fox was standing over Clara's slumped body, desperately snapping at the moths. Valiant was lying next to them.
The Fairy was still blazing. Jacob tightened his fist even harder around the leaves and stumbled past her. She turned toward him as if she could feel the pressure of his fingers on her skin.
"Call them back!" he screamed, dropping to his knees next to Clara and Valiant.
The Dwarf was still moving, but Clara was as pale as death. White, red, black. Jacob brushed the moths off Clara's skin and dropped the willow leaves to unbutton his white guardsman's tunic. There was enough blood on it, but where could he get something black? The moths were converging on him as he put his jacket over Clara. With a final effort he pulled a black cravat from a dead man's neck and wrapped it around her arm. Fluttering wings. Stings cutting into his flesh like splinters. They sowed a numbness that tasted of death. Jacob collapsed next to the Dwarf. He felt paws pushing into his chest.
"Fox!" He barely managed to utter her name. She swiped moths from his face, but they were too many.
"White. Red. Black," he muttered, but she of course didn't understand what he meant. The leaves... he felt around the floor for them, but his fingers were as heavy as lead.
"Enough!"
Just one word, but it came from the only person whom the Dark Fairy still heard in her rage. The King's voice made the moths whirl up. Even the venom in Jacob's veins seemed to dissolve, until only a deep weariness remained.
Valiant rolled over with a groan, but Clara wasn't moving. She didn't open her eyes until Jacob leaned over her. He quickly turned his head so she wouldn't see how relieved he was. However, Clara's eyes sought only his brother.
Will was back on his feet, standing behind the Fairy's glassy tendrils. They turned to water as soon as the King stepped toward them, spilling down the stairs and cleansing the blood from the altar.
The moths landed on the Goyl dead and the wounded, and many of them began to stir. The Dark Fairy embraced her lover, wiping the pale blood from his face.
Will dragged the Empress to her feet and knocked out one of her Dwarfs who tried to stand in his way. Three of the other Goyl were driving the survivors from the pews. Jacob looked around for the willow leaves, but one of the Goyl dragged him up and pushed him and Clara toward the altar steps. Fox hurried after them. Her fur was still the best protection. Valiant was upright again, too. And from behind a distant pew, a slender figure rose. White silk speckled with blood, and above it a dollface that, despite her fear, still looked like a mask.
The princess stepped unsteadily into the aisle. Her veil was torn. She gathered up her dress to climb over the body of the general who had led her into the church. Her long train was heavy with blood.
Her groom looked at her as if he was weighing whether to kill her himself or to leave that pleasure to the Fairy. The rage of the Goyl. In their King, it had turned to cold fire.
"Get me one of their priests," he ordered Will. "One of them must still be alive."
The Empress looked at him incredulously. She could barely stand, but one of her Dwarfs lurched to her side and propped her up.
"Yes?" Kami’en said, stepping toward her, his saber in his hand. "So you tried to have me killed. I don't see how that changes our arrangement."
He looked down at the princess, who was standing at the bottom of the altar.
"No," she answered for her mother, in a halting voice. "It changes nothing. But the price is still peace."
Her mother started to protest, but one glance from the King silenced her.
"Peace," he repeated. He looked at the dead Goyl the moths had not brought back to life. "I think I have forgotten what that means. You shall have your own life and that of your mother as your wedding gift."
The priest Will dragged out from the sacristy stumbled over the corpses. The Dark Fairy's face was whiter than the bride's dress as the princess climbed the steps to the altar. And Kami’en, King of the Goyl, wed Amalie, princess of Austry.
