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“The Fae Queen is gone. There’s no reason for you to hide any longer.”
I’m so freaking confused. What are they talking about? “What’s going on? Morgan?”
“Are you going to tell her, or should I?”
Completely ignoring Nine, she faces me again. “Elle, I’ve missed you so—”
“I guess that means me. Riley. Elle. Jim. This is Morrigan, the Winter Queen.”
I… I had to have heard that wrong.
“Excuse me?”
Her silver eyes turn molten. “I knew I should’ve kept you on the other side of the barrier. The one time I let an Unseelie into my home and he brings up ancient history.”
“Ancient history? It’s only been two hundred years.”
I have to remind myself that Nine’s fae because, to me, two hundred years is ancient history.
“Two hundred years that I’ve managed to keep my head because I stayed out of it after Melisandre stole my throne, then her mate’s. No. It doesn’t matter that Oberon got his revenge at last. As I recall, he’s almost as bad as she was. I’ve earned my peace. I’m Morgan now. Not Morrigan.”
“You can’t run from your destiny, Morrigan.”
“You’re lucky I choose not to be queen. Otherwise, as one of my subjects, I could have you killed for your disrespect.”
Nine meets her stare, completely nonplussed. “You could try.”
Am I in the freaking twilight zone or something? Is this really happening? Morgan—the sweet Unseelie that became my friend—is the Winter Queen we’ve been sent to find? And, instead of showing her respect, Nine is basically daring her to try and lop off of his head?
Riley doesn’t even look a little surprised at this turn of events. At first, I think it has to do with Nine and maybe something he told her, until she shrugs. “The Winter Queen is a hermit. Sure. Why not?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, Oberon was a homeless guy when I met him in Acorn Falls.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“What can I tell you? The fae are weird.”
That’s putting it mildly.
Nine’s frowning, like something just occurred to him. “What do you mean, choose not to be queen? As the last of the line of Mab, you’re queen. There’s no choice involved.”
“Of course there is. Remember, Melisandre was kin to Mab, too. My cousin. She made her choice. And look what happened to her. I may live far from Scáth, but the rumors sti
ll reach me, even in the depths of the Shadow Realm.”
“The Reign of the Damned was cursed from the beginning. Melisandre didn’t deserve to be the Winter Queen, but she tipped the balance by masquerading as one of the Seelie. She had too much power.”
On that, Morgan obviously agrees. “Faerie can’t have one ruler. It never ends well. And now the Summer King tries.”
“Oberon doesn’t want to be Fae King,” Nine corrects her. “That’s why we’re here. He sent us on a mission to offer peace to the Unseelie Court’s rightful ruler. You.”
“You’re mistaken.
“There must be balance.”
Morgan pursed her lips. “No. There hasn’t been balance in two hundred years.”
