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Nava closed the book with a thump when the scent of smoke rose to her nostrils. A cold draft slithered through the fabric of her wool trousers. She suddenly had the distinct feeling that she was being watched.
She turned slowly. In the corner of the room, a woman of nightmares floated above the bed.
Layers of a long petticoat moved in the air as if suspended in water. The figure was all black, with long bones for limbs that snapped about in jagged movements. She pointed at Nava with a gaping mouth and empty eyes.
Even though she wanted to scream, no sound left her lips.
She stumbled backward, hitting the table as the scent of burnt flesh and smoke clogged her nose. The spirit didn’t move from her spot, but a bright string of magic shot through the room, straight from the center of her charred face and toward Nava.
The air crackled with energy, and the string cut through her shield of bees. Then it wrapped around Nava’s skull, and images flashed through her mind, drowning her every thought beneath them.
Orange flames licked the bottom of the tree, red embers bursting into a flickering fire. She fought against the ropes around her body, trying to catch her breath between the sobs that tore through her throat.
“Please, don’t do this. I love you,” she called into the void, no longer able to see him behind the wall of smoke.
“Love? I wonder if you know the meaning of the word, Briar.” His voice had once soothed her soul, but now it was cold and detached.
Briar closed her eyes and called on whatever strength remained inside her aching body. If this was her end, then she would die like the queen she was.
The smoke blurred her vision, and she choked on a breath. The flames licked at her skin, bursting it into blisters.
Her voice gave way, breaking with raw pain, and then there was darkness. For a moment, she floated above a dead tree in the forest, anger stealing her breath, but she couldn’t even moan her lament.
The one she’d loved most of all had killed her.
Nava screamed until her throat was raw, her energy dwindling until everything went dark.
“Nava—Nava, look at me.” Arkimedes’s voice, smooth like honey, soothed her racing heart. She slowly opened her eyes and met a storm of green irises.
His muscular arms encircled her body, lifting her into the soft furnace of his embrace.
“Ark?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He cradled her tighter against his chest, and the quick thundering of his pulse calmed her. “What happened, Nava?”
His aura was so dark that she couldn’t see anything else around her. Not even the spirit that had attacked her.
Her vision sharpened as she sat up straight, staring at the corner where the burnt woman had hovered a moment ago. “She was here,” Nava said, twisting around in search of the spirit—only to find an empty room.
“She?” Arkimedes followed her line of sight, and his frown deepened. “Who was here?”
“There was a spirit in this room, but it wasn’t a Neem. It was a burnt woman, and she attacked me with a strange spell.”
Had it been an attack? It was hard to determine. Nava hugged herself tightly, trying to bring some warmth back to her body.
Ark’s skin grew a few shades paler as he faced her. “What do you mean, a burnt woman?”
“Sh-she was wearing a long black dress and floated in that corner.” Nava pointed to the spot where the spirit had been with a shaky finger.
Arkimedes’s lips parted and then shut. He scrambled to his feet. “You saw her? Was she wearing a crown?”
A crown? In her panic, Nava hadn’t noticed that detail. But…she had been a queen. That much had clearly filtered through to Nava while under her spell.
“How did you know about that? Is she the spirit that Devon claims haunts this house?”
“No.” Arkimedes avoided her gaze and covered his face with his hand, rubbing it over his forehead again and again, as if he was trying to soothe himself. It left her concerned and curious in equal parts. “I didn’t think she would follow me here.”
“What do you mean?”
