Nothing could stop me now.
My fingertips grazed the mirror as I conjured a mental image of my study back home. Slowly, the glass responded, showing me a crystal-clear image of the room. Not just a mirror reflection—a portal. This entire time, Corvin had been just a few footsteps away from reaching me, and we hadn’t realized. “Thank you for helping me,” I told King Ravenell, who’d guided me to Corvin’s bedroom. I turned back to the mirror, readying myself to step through its tall frame, the interior beginning to shimmer and liquefy as I exerted more pressure, pushing harder with my fingertips against the glass. “Let’s go home, Nix,” I stated. “I have an inauguration ceremony to attend.”
Then I stepped fully into the mirror and tumbled, almost instantaneously, back out into my study.
Nix’s landing was a tad more graceful.
I ran down the hallway toward my bedroom, hastily throwing on a simple black gown. Deciding to leave my hair half down, I braided only a section in the middle in a loose fishtail braid so that I could tuck a few moonflowers into my hair on the way out the door. I stepped outside, pausing a moment before running toward the ancient oak trees on the island between which the gateway appeared every Winter Solstice, Nix running after me.
It was there.
I exhaled fully for the first time since returning to the island. The gate was still there—and it was stunning.
A rounded archway containing midnight-black double doors stood in front of me, tiny pinholes of light cut into the wood, twinkling like starlight. Vines sprawled over the top of the archway, clusters of moonflowers blooming all along their length, glowing with the same soft, ethereal light as the moonstone inlaid across the gateway, depicting the cycles of the moon. I approached the gateway with reverence, surprised to find Nix keeping pace with my stride. I gave him a gentle smile. “I thought the gateway only allows one person through.”
Nix looked smug. “When has that ever stopped a cat?”
I snorted, but my heart soared. It felt right going through the gateway together. After everything Nix had been put through, he deserved this as much as I did. I tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d been able to attend the ceremony, how long he had suffered, watching the Midnight Sovereign being targeted, without being able to stop it or prevent the office’s slow decline.
As I gripped the door handles, each crafted from milky-white moonstone and shaped into a crescent moon, I uttered the words Kaylin first shared with me and pulled them open for us all. For Kaylin. For Nix. For myself. The words were heavy on my tongue as I spoke them—words of power, words infused with meaning and promise:For you I walk the moonlit path at midnight.Attuned to the password, the doors creaked open with a mighty groan.
Together, Nix and I stepped through the gateway—and into a dense veil of fog.
The fog twined and curled around me, its touch a soft invitation, beckoning me onward. I wasn’t sure if the cloud of fog was to blame, but everything sounded oddly muted as Nix and I walked resolutely forward. As we strolled, the fog began to clear a little. Enough that I could tell we were walking through a forested grove. The trees looked ancient, so much so that Icouldn’t see the tops of their branches through the fog, no matter how far back I craned my neck. The trunks were massive in circumference—so large it would take an entire ring of people holding hands to wrap all the way around the width of a single tree.
I’d never been so awestruck in all my life. This was a place, a magic, that predated history. Before people, there was the land. If my island existed at the center of the realm, then I thought this grove must exist at its very core. It was a sacred place. A place where you could speak, and the land would listen.
The longer we walked, the more awe-inspiring the landscape became. We crossed a natural stone archway, which crested over a majestic waterfall, its waters falling serenely so as not to disturb the preternatural stillness of the grove. On the other side of the archway, lush green undergrowth muffled our footsteps, and as the tree line began to thin out, we approached a clearing, the fog finally lifting enough to take a look around.
My gaze was drawn first toward the gargantuan-sized tree stump, easily ten paces across, which filled the center of the clearing, its flat surface a natural sort of stage to stand upon. A small set of stairs was carved into the base of the wood in each cardinal direction, providing a way up. Like any stage, it anticipated an audience. In this case, a set of ten regal thrones composed its seating arrangements, spread out in a perfect circle around the ancient tree stump.
The thrones were cut from granite—their appearance rough, like they had been formed, not polished by human hands. Rising from the ground, gnarled tree roots anchored each of them in place, twisting possessively upward toward their armrests. Veins of golden ore glistened and glittered within the granite, adding to the grandiosity of the throne’s appearance.
I counted them again. Ten. Which meant a new throne must have sprouted to accommodate the Sky Kingdom’s presence.It also meant there was a throne for the Midnight Sovereign, for me, to sit upon. Enough seats for the monarchs of all six kingdoms, myself, and the remaining three Fae courts—everyone granted a place in the audience.
A few of the thrones were filled already.
Momentarily, everyone would be expected to speak their vows to the land—the land upon which their kingdoms resided, the land upon which their people survived. I looked around the circle, noticing with pride that Corvin was sitting on a throne, drawing more than a few looks of deep intrigue from the other monarchs. He looked exceptionally handsome, with an ornately crafted crown upon his brow, a black-and-silver embroidered tunic pulled snugly over his broad shoulders and his wings fully extended. I caught his gaze, and an admiring smile tugged at his lips, its likeness reflected on my own face.
I looked around at the rest of the monarchs in the grove. Several faces I didn’t recognize stared back at me. But there was one face, one face that was all too familiar—King Filvendor’s, the Fae King of Solaris. After what he’d put me through during my visit to the Summer Palace, I wished Ididn’trecognize him. Or the winged lion, Lennox, standing guard next to his throne.
Still, even if I wanted to exact my revenge, this was not the time, and it certainly wasn’t the place. The grove was not a place that would tolerate violence; I could feel that in my bones. I decided to settle for holding my head high as I took a seat across from him in the circle. My throne was easy to find, a crescent moon etched into its surface. His eyes flickered to mine, and I met his stare, pleased to find he was the first one to look away. Nix settled protectively at my feet, staring daggers at King Filvendor and his proud lion companion.
Even though I didn’t recognize the other monarch’s faces, I could still guess their identities. There was nothing subtle about the white-haired woman with glowing green eyes, QueenElasha of Kothia, who occupied another throne across the circle from me. Placed over her deep emerald gown were the skeletal remains of an entire human ribcage, cupping her breasts, like a custom corset—a corset of course that allowed her to channel a female ancestor, that granted her the powers of a banshee warrior. Her skin was pale white, like the bones of the relic she wore.
I wasn’t surprised to see King Cazzon of Sivell sitting far away from the Kothian queen. He was easy to single out since there was a phoenix perched on the armrest of his throne, its fiery-red tail feathers draping elegantly downward. The king’s dark brown skin bore a phoenix tattoo, and his long braids were adorned with golden beads.
The phoenix surveyed the grove with an intelligent gaze. Was I imagining it, or did its eyes linger on me with interest? We had something in common now I supposed—I too had walked through the fire and been reborn.
My breathing grew suddenly erratic, my skin warm and clammy, as I thought about the magic of the phoenix feather that saved me. As I thought about what came before, images of the assassination attempt rushing in before I could repel them—like the feeling of cold steel, slicing through my flesh—
I dug my nails into my palms, took a few deep breaths, and let my gaze drift around the circle.
King Malgath of Uvrakar, a dragon capable of taking human form, settled into his throne. My mind began to wander, trying and failing to imagine what he would look like as a dragon, how much of the grove he would encompass. Even in his human form, his pupils were a reptilian slit, a dark line cutting through golden irises, each ringed by a bright orange hue, the color of flame. What would the current dragon king think about the rise of the Zrocan? Knowing his father drove the Zrocan from Uvrakar’s skies?
A woman emerged from the fog, breaking me out of my thoughts. She wore a snowy-white fur-lined gown and moved with the same lethal grace as the winged snow leopard prowling at her side. She had an olive complexion and midnight-black hair cuffed into an elegant bun. Archlady Eirwen based on her pointed ears, and the wintery chill of magic swirling around her. She must be the leader of the Winter Court. Taking the throne next to me, she remarked, “Your throne has been empty for quite some years now, Midnight Sovereign.”
“It’s not empty anymore,” I replied, my voice seeping with pride.
