“Are you worried about what’s happening in Faerie?” Ava asked as she hoisted herself up the rocks.
It was strange how little I’d been thinking about it. Before now, my entire life had one purpose: to look after my subjects and make my kingdom thrive. Here, in the heart of my enemy’s land, my thoughts were distinctly distracted.
The cooling air stung my cheeks. “I can’t imagine what’s happening, but I hope Orla declared herself regent and took the throne…” My voice trailed off. “But I never thought she was strong enough to sit on it. Perhaps she appointed someone else as regent in my absence.”
“You’d better hope it wasn’t Moria.” Breath misted around her.
My chest tightened. “If there is no queen on the throne, I’m afraid everyone will be dead by the time I return.”
As we neared the mountain’s peak, the trees grew smaller until only snow and ash remained. From here, on a narrow, icy path, I still didn’t quite have a view of the summit. But when I turned to look back down the mountain, the blood-red forest spread out far below us.
Ava steadied herself on a rocky wall to our left, and we followed the curving trail that swept up to the peak .
When we reached the summit, red-tinged wisps coiled above us, and an orange glow warmed the air from the crater. Sprays of molten lava rose from the volcano’s depths, shooting into the air.
But my gaze was on the impossible, gravity-defying structure above us, a narrow castle that sat atop a craggy column of black rock. Like a strange flower on a stem of stone, the fortress was bathed with red from the fires below. Rickety ropes made of vines led up to the castle’s entrance. A cold wind whipped over us.
“This is amazing,” Ava whispered, staring up at it.
I exhaled slowly as hope burned brighter in my chest. If anything around here was the home of a weird old mountain hag, this bizarre castle must be it.
And right now, this was our one and only chance to escape and return Ava to the mortal realm, where she belonged.
Everything hinged on what happened next.
“Ava,” I said quietly, “let me go in first.”
She turned to me, a puff of breath escaping her mouth. “Fine. I’ll be the lookout.”
I hoisted myself up the vines. The icy wind whipped over me, making the snow whirl around me in vortices. My heart raced with anticipation. A few thorns stabbed my fingers, and I kept my eye on the dark entry above. At last, I reached the door and hoisted myself up. Moonlight pierced narrow open windows, and ash dusted the floor inside.
Lanterns jutted from the all, made from fae skulls with unlit candles inside. Lightning flashed, illuminating the walls, a bas-relief carving of a veiled woman with antlers, her body surrounded by gnarled, leafy designs. A chill rippled over me. At least I knew I was in the right place.
My gaze slid over the Unseelie words carved into the walls, over and over. The same words, and for a moment, I thought I understood the foreign language. From somewhere deep in the recesses of my soul, the words rang out.
I burn.
My breath caught, and I turned away from them, unnerved by whatever magic danced all over this place. I only needed the lady of the castle to appear.
A well stood in the center of the hall. How could she have a well in this place? I peered over the edge and saw a void that made the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Outside, the mournful sound of an owl pierced the air. I crossed to a stairwell, sniffing the air. It smelled of dogs in here. Wolves, maybe.
“Torin!” Ava’s voice made my heart slam, and I raced back to the door.
When I peered out, I found her trying to climb the vines. An arrow shaft jutted from her back. My blood turned to ice as Morgant swooped up behind her, his black wings pounding the night air.
Sword in hand, I leapt from the entrance. When I landed on the rock, pain shot up my legs, but it hardly registered. I was too late. Morgant had pulled Ava away and was carrying her into the air.
As I raced down the rocky path, Unseelie surrounded me, armed with swords and bows. My heart beat like a war drum .
I forced my thoughts to go quiet, like a blanketing of snow.
An Unseelie demon with long black hair and fangs stood at the front, gripping the hilt of his sword. “Where did you think you were going?” he asked. “No one enters or leaves except by the pleasure of the queen, and you, Seelie dog, will be strung up before the castle gates and eviscerated at her pleasure.”
I gripped the Sword of Whispers, focusing on the dark-haired fae. I didn’t have time for panic, and I didn’t have the luxury of making a single mistake. I was vastly outnumbered. At least I’d trained for this.