“Wait!” I cried.
But just like in the woods, right when I caught back up, he snickered and sped up his pace. Wisps of the man’s pale hair curled back toward me as he rushed ahead. I was in trouble. The fae were real. Oryn’s magic dust was entirely rinsed away, and he would never find me here. I wasn’t even sure where here was.
“Why are you running?” I struggled to keep up.
“We’re late!” he yelled. His spongy voice echoed over the arched ceilings and slithered down the walls. The worn-out soles of my boots squeaked with each step as I chased him, leaving a squishy trail of water in my wake.
He weaved his way back and forth down long hallways and past rooms whose doors were closed, and others that slammed shut just as I tried to peer inside, always turning left. We were going in a circle, or maybe a spiral, because the turns became tighter and the man more desperate. He kept glancing at his watch worriedly. Beads of sweat formed on his brow.
What will happen if we’re late?
When we had gone as far as we could go and there were no more turns to take, the harried man stopped. Here, no windows spilled light into the space. Instead, there were strange torches of blue-black fire that cast macabre light and shadows against the walls.
Two guards dressed in matching bright red suits stood guard at a set of intricately carved, golden double-doors. They stepped forward menacingly, aiming their spears at our throats. My heart leapt into mine, choking me from even whimpering as they stepped closer and closer until the metal spear tip bit into my tender flesh. I let out a whimper when my skin broke beneath the pressure. The coppery tang hit my nose just as I felt the warm trickle of blood slide down my wet skin. I fought the urge to swallow, my breaths coming out in shallow, shaky puffs.
In my periphery, the white-haired man was quivering. From his knees to his lips, he shook like an autumn leaf in a winter wind. “You are late,” the guard in front of him warned.
“There was an incident,” he explained in a thin, reedy voice. “You have to let me in. I’m bringing the girl the Queen wanted.”
The girl she wanted? What the hell is going on?
“You think she’s your saving grace? If you escape with your skin, I’ll be shocked,” the guard muttered before removing the spear from his throat. The other spear tip retreated from my flesh and I took a deep breath to try and calm myself. The guards looked like twins, from their rouge skin and the crimson sludge coating their hair, to the soles of their shoes, which were the same alarming shade of red as the rest of their attire.
Each put a hand on the door and pushed. With the warm welcome we’d received thus far, I didn’t have a chance to study the door. Now I chanced a look, seeing it was engraved with an enormous human heart, each chamber slowly pulsating in a rhythm all its own. The doors parted the organ, revealing a grand room where everything gleamed and sparkled. The cavernous space had vaulted, spider-webbed ceilings held up by a vast array of golden columns.
The rabbit man urged me to follow him, and when I couldn’t stop gawking at all the gold, a fraction of which could alter my family’s fate, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me hard toward the center of the room. From there, we jogged to the far end where a raised dais overlooked the checkerboard floor.
He deposited me on a large white tile, smeared with what looked like blood. The water still dripping from my dress pooled on the dried smears and the rust came alive, swirling within the droplets.
The rabbit man stood a few feet away on an equally large black square of tile. If we were late, so was everyone else, because we were the only two in the enormous room. I almost felt bad for him. He was quaking so hard beside me that unless I was imagining it, the floor trembled. The vibrations traveled through my boots and up my calves as if they were fleeing from him and hiding behind me.
The vast room was hollow and empty, unadorned by windows, only accented by gold ceilings and walls. The sole piece of furniture sat on the raised dais before me; an ornate, golden throne with a swooping, whimsical carved back. The sight of it certainly didn’t produce the tangible fear the man beside me felt, which terrified me. Could he see something I couldn’t? I was all too aware that things in the fae realm weren’t as they seemed.
“Is the Queen coming?” I whispered.
He wiped his brow and nodded quickly in response, fear shining in his beady eyes.
“Why are you so afraid of her?”
Without looking at me, he shushed me as a trio of horns began to play from somewhere behind us. When I turned around, I didn’t see any musicians.
The man’s shaking became worse.
As if conjured by magic, an impenetrable wall of soldiers appeared around us, each brandishing their own spear, spears I knew were sharp and deadly. One thrust, one well-placed jab, and I’d be dead.
My eyes flicked down to the blood on the floor that the water hadn’t absorbed, the smears that told a story that hadn’t been cleaned and buffed away. My heart thundered as I swallowed my fear. Maybe I was the one trembling.
The guards shifted, turning as one toward the throne and holding their spears so the tips pointed toward the ceiling.
Seated on the throne was the Queen.
CHAPTER FIVE
ARABELLA
The Queen was younger than I thought she would be, with raven-colored hair and flawless skin. Everything about her was unblemished, from her perfectly coiffed head to the last layer of her red gown. Matching the hue of her guards’ ensembles, the Queen’s skirts weren’t made of plain fabric. Each layer was a slightly different shade of crimson and boasted a different pattern—stripes, spots, vines. Some were embroidered so their patterns stood out. Others glittered.
The bottom of the gown was so wide, the seat of her throne could barely contain it, but her waist was tiny and she sat perfectly upright, like she had a rod in her spine preventing her from slouching. Her hair was a glossy dark brown that was pinned elegantly at her neck. The crown she wore was golden, but also not plain. There were tiny engravings in the metal. Words, if I was right. I wished I could read them. When I tried, they disappeared.
When I looked down, her eyes were waiting.
They were hawkish, scanning me from the tip of my head to the soles of my boots. A cold chill worked its way up my spine as the silence thickened between us. The man next to me was quiet, so I heeded his cues and kept my mouth shut.
When my fingers trailed to the still-stinging wound on my neck, the vibrations coming from the rabbit man became violent. My eyes trailed from him to the Queen. If I could feel it, so could she. My eyes flicked to the white-haired man.
What the hell is happening?
He rattled violently beside me, whimpering and panting as if he was in pain. By the time she finally opened her lips to speak, the man beside me was breathing so hard, I thought he might faint. She finally tore her gaze from me and turned it on him instead.