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“You would ace all three requirements,” I say. “It’s not a matter of whether you’re qualified. You’re the best.”
“What makes you so sure?” she asks. “You don’t know me.”
“We’ve confessed how we’ve watched you for months. Seeing you made the nights worth it. I turned to stone each dawn daydreaming about the next glimpse of you I might get. Whether it was a quick peek of you working with patients through the open window blinds or seeing you around your family, I’ve never seen a more perfect queen in the making.”
She goes quiet, biting her bottom lip and staring at me as if she can look past the fangs to my deepest secrets.
The soul guardian zips past us, a blur of fluttering feathers and fussiness. He flies in front of Rosemarie as though begging for her attention.
“Huey?” she says on a whisper. “Is that you?”
I hadn’t expected her to recognize the owl. “You know Hudyakis, the soul guardian?”
“Maybe.” She glances at me. “But not by that name. He belonged to my Lala.” Her voice goes sad. “What’d you call him?”
“Hudyakis.” I don’t mention aloud that the soul guardian had best keep to his current form, but I do my best to silently communicate it to him. Rosemarie has enough monsters to deal with for now. Cute and cuddly is far better than mean and menacing.
The owl bounces as if he needs all her attention on him. I completely understand that desire.
“Hmm, I think I’ll still call you Huey if that’s okay with you,” she tells him, and the lucky little bugger buzzes to land on her outstretched fingers where she strokes his head. She frowns. “You said he’s a guardian. Is he one of those Theo mentioned for the portals?”
“No, he’s a soul guardian. They guard only the souls they pick to protect.” I don’t add how our legendary queens of the distant past had soul guardians. Even a soul guardian wouldn’t be enough to fix the Bridge’s current dilapidated state. No, that’s proof of what happens when a substitute queen stands in for the one who should’ve been there.
Guilt pours over me.
She snuggles the owl closer. I can’t repeat my failure.
Not again.
Not with her.
“Rosemarie, don’t agree to going,” I rush to say. “The Bridge decides the fates of the candidates it doesn’t choose, and winning’s no guarantee when?—”
“Stop.” Atticus damn near hisses the command at me.
“Four candidates compete in the trials,” I continue despite my twin trying to shush me. “Only one makes it through.”
“What happens to the other three?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “The Bridge serves as the connection between your living realm and the dead. Souls pass over on their way to the other side. The queen makes sure their journey happens as it should. After the last trials, I think the Bridge sent the other candidates across to the After Worlds, the lands of the dead.”
“If I lose, I die?” Her voice sparks with rage.
“It’s a possibility,” I whisper.
“It’s not,” Atticus counters. “The Bridge and the unchosen candidates reach an agreement. We aren’t privy to it, but that’s the way it has always worked. If you choose to live, you will,” he tells Rosemarie.
I can’t let my brother force her hand. “We lost our last queen candidate,” I admit quietly. “She died.” I choke out the word, the bitter truth. It’s just not the whole truth. I need to tell her the rest, no matter how much it hurts. “At the coronation, she?—”
Atticus cuts me off. “Rosemarie won’t suffer the same fate.” He shifts his attention to the pretty human, the one who could be queen. “The Bridge will pick you. We only need a couple of weeks of your time in the Borderlands realm. Then as queen, we can transport you back here to a time when barely a day has passed.”
“No.” She backs away from us. “I won’t do it.”
My brother isn’t finished. “If the Bridge doesn’t have the right queen this time, the proper queen, the link between the realms of the living and dead will fail. Your dead would be trapped here, unable to pass over.”
“I can’t be a queen.” She slashes her hand through the air, the beads and crystals around her wrist rattling with vengeance. “I’m a nobody. You’ve obviously got the wrong woman. Find someone else.” She turns and walks away. Huey flutters behind her, distressed and screeching at us.
My heart sinks, but letting her make the choice was the right call.
