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Wrath stiffened beside me, and he tugged on my hand, moving us faster as we neither walked nor glided but somehow moved forward through the sparkling vapors that rose around us.
The birds were silent, and in my heart, I knew something was horribly wrong. The birds never stopped singing in Summer’s realm. I closed my eyes, praying we weren’t too late to prevent whatever it was that was happening.
Up ahead, a barrow stood. It was not the true barrow of Summer, locked in Myst’s grasp in the Golden Wood, but a makeshift refuge for a queen and her people who had been ousted from their home. We came to the edge, and the mist vanished and we stood there, in the silent gloom of evening. The chill hit me then—just a slight tang, a presage of autumn—and I knew that Lainule was dying.
Wrath still remained silent, leading me into the barrow. The guards guided us to a chamber toward the back of the spacious hall. The smell of pungent earth held sway in the air, slightly sour and biting. There were Cambyra Fae everywhere, the people of Summer—my father’s people, and my own. They stood as one upon our appearance and, as Wrath and I passed, knelt into deep curtsies and bows.
My blood stirred as I looked into their faces, and for once I felt welcome. Praying they did not know I’d been Myst’s daughter previously, I smiled gently, trying not to envision the horror they’d been through when Winter had reached out for their land.
The guards stopped outside a chamber. Wrath motioned for me to attend him and entered through the oak-hewn door. The room was large, though not grand, and a bed—high and only reachable by a two-step footstool—stood against one wall. Silk curtains were draped from each corner of the ceiling above the bed, wrapping around the posts that rose a good eight feet from the floor.
The rest of the room was simple, yet elegant. A large armoire. A dressing table. A bath—looking to be made out of smooth tile—sat cordoned off by its own curtain. I wondered what Lainule’s chamber had looked like back in the Golden Wood—it must have been grand, and beautiful. Heartsick, I bit my lip.
As we approached the bed, there was a slight movement and a tall, graceful woman stepped from behind one of the curtains. She knelt before Wrath, but before he could greet her, she stood and her eyes were filled with sorrow.
“She is unwell. You know what makes her ill.” She sounded resigned, without hope.
Wrath nodded. “She is too far from her heartstone.” The woman glanced at me, but Wrath shook his head. “It is all right. This is my daughter, Cicely Waters. She is half-magic-born, and an owl-shifter like me. She is one of the Cambyra and will be treated as my heir.”
I caught my breath. This was the first time that I’d been introduced to anyone—at least more than a nodding glance—and I hadn’t expected him to announce he was my father.
“Lady Cicely, welcome.” The woman knelt briefly to me, then returned her attention to Wrath. “Your Highness, she must have her heartstone or the Summer will fade.”
“The Queen is the heart of Summer, yes, I know.” Wrath fell silent, then walked over to the bed. Two handmaidens drew back the curtains to show the silent form of Lainule stretched beneath a purple and green comforter, her golden hair spread out on the pillows. Her eyes were open, and she turned to look at us, but I could tell she was weak. I knew she had been fading, but for it to have come on so swiftly must mean that Myst was getting closer to finding her heartstone.
Wrath swiftly climbed the steps leading to the high mattress. He sat carefully on the side, the quilted comforter beneath him shifting ever so slightly. He took Lainule’s left hand in his own, interlacing her fingers with his, and lifted it gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the pale skin.
Tears caught in my throat. As I watched the tableau, I knew they were speaking but without words. And argument or not, their love broke through their recent spat and Wrath leaned down and gathered her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.
“You cannot die. The Heart of Summer cannot die.” He kissed her again, and she murmured something that I chose not to hear—it was for his ears only. After a moment, my father turned. “Lainule wishes to speak to you, daughter.”
I hesitantly crossed the room, holding my breath, trying not to cry. Lainule looked so delicate and fragile in her bed, so unlike the vivacity of summer. The Queen of Rivers and Rushes let out a long sigh, slow, like a breeze through hollow husks, as I approached.
Wrath stood back as I climbed the three wooden steps, hewn in oak, to the side of her bed, and took my place sitting next to her.
“Lainule, can you ever forgive me?” I wasn’t sure what I was asking forgiveness for—perhaps for bucking her will, for choosing my own life over the hope that I might be a weapon against Myst.
But her eyelashes fluttered and she looked up at me, motioning me close. I leaned in, my ear next to her lips.
“The only forgiveness necessary is yours. I should never have agreed to Geoffrey’s plan. It was madness to work with the Crimson Court. I know that now. Child, I am dying.”
And there it was, plain and simple.
“No, you can’t die. We need you. Myst cannot be allowed to rule the land. And…I need you. I don’t know how to be one of your people.” The words flowed out of my mouth, and I wasn’t even sure what I was saying.
She shook her head, just one simple shake. “Your father will teach you. But without my heartstone, I cannot hope to regain my strength. I do not have long before the Summer fades and Winter claims my soul. She is growing dangerously close to my heartstone. I can feel her reaching out her spindly fingers, searching for it.”
“She will not have it.” I sat back, biting my lip. “Tell me where it is and I will get it. But you have to tell me where to find it.”
“The danger is too great—”
“The danger without you is far greater.” I leaned close and looked into her eyes. “I am afraid, but I am more afraid of what will happen should Myst be allowed free rein. You must tell me where to find the heartstone.” I thought I knew where it was, but it was simpler to just ask and make certain.>One of the werewolves started forward, but the leader shook his head, grabbing the man by the arm. “She’s Consortium,” was all he said, and the five began to back away, hands in the air.
“Get in your car and drive out of here now.” Ysandra gave a little nod to us. “Do as I say.”
“But will you be safe if we go?” We couldn’t just leave her standing there.
She let out a cold, harsh laugh that seemed incongruous with her looks. “Do not let appearances deceive you, Cicely. Trust on instinct rather than what you see.”
