The sludge began to roil violently, burping and spitting like it was about to erupt.I staggered back, but Owen grabbed my arm and yanked me with him.
We’d cleared the worst of it when a geyser of black ooze shot upward, arcing through the air like corrupted lava.It sizzled when it hit the ground where we’d been standing seconds before.
Owen’s arm tightened around me.“You okay?”
“Yeah.I think so.”I turned—and saw the ooze boiling again.“Owen…”
“Let’s get out of here.”
We took a step back.The earth rumbled under our feet.A deep crack split the ground at the base of the tree.The black muck vanished into the fissure as a column of searing white light shot up, blindingly bright, swallowing the clearing in brilliance.
I threw up a hand to shield my eyes.Even through my fingers I saw a shape forming inside the light, sharp and tall and unmistakably human.
Then, like someone flipped a switch, the light snapped off.
In its place stood a woman in an enormous red ball gown trimmed in white iridescent jewels.Her brown hair was swept up in an elaborate style, crowned by a gold, jewel-encrusted circlet.Diamonds—or convincing fakes—sparkled at her throat.Her lips were blood red, her cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.Her blue eyes were winter-cold.
She glanced down at the black sludge soaking the hem of her skirt and made a face of regal disgust.Lifting the heavy fabric, she stepped daintily out of the mess and straightened to her full, imperious height.
Then she fixed us both with that icy stare.
“Who are you,” she demanded, “and why have you summoned me?”
“Summoned you?”I echoed.“I didn’t summon you.”
The woman scanned the clearing, frowning.“Where is Alice?”
Owen and I exchanged a look.The same question thudded between us.
“Alice is… gone,” I said.“She died.”
Shock flashed across the woman’s face.Her hand flew to her chest.“Died?No.No, no, no.This is terrible.This is unacceptable.”She paced in a small circle, the stained gown dragging in the muck.“Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said.“I’m her niece.Piper.”I had no idea if I should curtsy or shake hands or run.
The woman swept closer and gripped my chin, turning my face left and right with clinical scrutiny.
“Her niece, you say?”she murmured.
“Yes.”
“Are you her heir?”
My stomach did a small, traitorous flip.“I am.How do you know that?And who are you?”
The woman drew herself up to full offended height.“I’m the queen, that’s who.And you will not use that insolent tone with me, young lady.”
It was like being scolded by a fancy version of Gladys.My spine tried to shrink and straighten at the same time.
The queen’s gaze finally slid to Owen.She circled him the way she had me, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know you,” she said.
“Owen McAllister, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing with alarming smoothness.“At your service.”
I rolled my eyes.Of course he knew how to bow.
“You’re the queen of what exactly?”I asked.
