My pulse raced. I was getting the first inkling of the plan Moria had been weaving, the threads she’d been twining together to form a monstrous tapestry of betrayal.
She gaped up at the image, her hand covering her mouth.
“What is it?” asked Orla.
Oh, gods. This was terrible and awkward. Orla couldn’t see the vision, and she was left there in the dark while everyone gaped at her brother standing before the enemy queen.
“He’s with Queen Mab!” Moria shrieked in a mimicry of shock. “Standing before her throne. He’s protecting her.”
The vision evaporated into the air above the thrones, and a new one took shape—a face that made my heart thump. Ava’s pretty features emerged, except now, she had two curved, coppery horns rising from her head. Her eyes had turned green, and she leaned back into Torin. The two of them were on horseback on what looked like a mountain path, and a forest of blood-red trees spread out behind them. As Ava leaned back against Torin, you could see the look of rapture on his face, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.
Shouts of rage filled the air, shouts of traitor and demon whore, and I wanted to shrink into the shadows. Were these visions real?
Though I was thrilled to see that the two of them were unharmed, my stomach twisted at the sight of her horns. I didn’t give a fuck if she was Seelie or Unseelie, and apparently Torin didn’t, either. But the crowd around me wanted blood.
I leaned into Aeron’s shoulder and whispered, “Are you sure this is real?”
The stricken look on his face told me he was. He’d gone completely pale, staring at Modron. I sensed he wanted to protect his king and the king’s sister, but he didn’t want to leave my side, either.
A scarlet current of danger and violence hummed through every stone in the room, making my muscles go tight.
“He’s left us for the bloody demons!” someone screamed. “And we’re leaving the throne open for this bastard?”
A dreadful feeling was crawling up my spine. Moria had crafted her speeches for this moment, hadn’t she? She’d whipped up the mob into a furor, then showed them the most damning evidence.
Moria’s hands went to her cheeks as she stared at the images. “But—this doesn’t make sense, does it? Why would our king join the Unseelie?” Her tone sounded more histrionic than Hannah G. on season four of Hitched and Stitched when she faked a brain aneurysm to get Cole into her hotel room.
“My sister was once his intended bride,” Moria went on, “and no one hated the demons more than she. Torin wouldn’t have murdered Milisandia, would he?”
Of course, I’d already heard her beliefs on this topic.
“Modron!” she shouted. “Please, tell us what happened to Milisandia! Please.”
It was a performance with all the sophistication of a thirteen-year-old belting out songs in I’m Really Rosie, but these people had never sat through bad musical theater, and they didn’t know the difference.
“No,” Orla shouted. “That’s not why we’re here.”
But Modron wasn’t listening to Princess Orla. With a low, rattling sound, Modron breathed another cloud into the air, and the gray mist took shape above the dais. In the fog, a beautiful woman appeared with hair red as blood draped over a white cape. She stood in a ruined temple dusted with snow. A tear ran down her cheek, and her expression looked agonized.
In the gray fog, Torin took shape by her side, his expression grim. And when he turned sharply away from her, she grabbed his arm. He whirled back to her, his expression horrified. Ice spread from his body to hers, freezing her from the point where their bodies made contact.
Moria screamed, the sound filling the hall.
“It’s not what you think!” Orla cried. “It’s not what you think!”
She was shouting this over and over, but without explaining any further, which wasn’t particularly helpful.
Dizziness swam in my thoughts as I watched what Modron was showing us next—the king himself, burying a body at the Temple of Ostara. Cracking the wintry earth with a shovel.
Moria turned on Orla. “You knew about this, Princess.” Her voice dripped with venom. “You knew before I showed it. What else did you know? Are you also in league with the Unseelie rats?”
But all Orla could say was, “I can’t speak of it.” She staggered back over the dais, looking fragile.
Why wasn’t she explaining?
The crowd was screaming at Orla now, their voices hysterical. She stepped back over the dais. A few guards dressed in blue uniforms like Aeron stepped before the princess. But they looked uncertain now, as if maybe they should not be protecting her.