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My heart pounded, and I pressed down the front of my gown to steady myself after that…encounter. “What exactly do you think we’re going to find in there?”
“I do not know,” he said in a grim voice. “Whatever it is, it cannot be good.”
I nodded and fell in behind him. My pulse throbbed as Kalen slammed his boot into the door. The sound of splintering wood echoed all around us. The door flew open, and I braced myself for Oberon’s destructive power to come racing toward us, but only a handful of sobs answered our arrival.
And then they stopped. The eerie silence rattled my bones.
Kalen went inside. I followed quickly, stepping over a pile of broken wood. A circular room spread out around us, and the chaos of the fire-drenched streets seemed like a distant memory in this cocoon of tranquility. Five beds ran along the nearest wall, all covered in luxurious sheets and plush pillows. A small table sat beside each. Some held books or scrolls. Some were covered in oil lamps and various plants. But two were completely empty.
Movement to the left caught my attention. I turned, half-expecting to find Oberon’s gleaming horns aimed toward Kalen. He would curl his fists and throw his fire across the tower. Kalen would have to counter with his mist. Their magic would clash, and another chasm would rip through the world.
But it was only four human women staring back at us. Oberon was nowhere to be seen. Strangely enough, neither was Hannah. I’d assumed she’d been sent here, since I’d seen no sign of her since my return.
I relaxed. “It’s the Mortal Queens.”
He spoke to me in a low voice. “How much do you know about these Mortal Queens? Do you remember all their names?”
“Of course. The first was a girl named Elise, and then seventy-five years later, we had Layla. Next was Mala and then Hannah, who isn’t here. I was to be the…fifth.” And yet, there were four humans standing before us. That was one more than there should have been. “Maybe one of them is the maidservant.”
I started toward them. As I drew closer, their milky eyes gazed right through me. They all wore matching crimson robes that hung from gaunt forms. Scraggly hair curtained pale faces. Even though they had not aged a day, they looked ancient, their spines curved as if the weight of the entire world rested on their shoulders.
“Hello,” I called out. “Are you all right? The castle is on fire. We should get you out of here before the magic protecting the tower fails.”
No answer. Each of the crones continued to stare right through me.
“Has Oberon been here?” Kalen tried.
Again, the crones did not speak. They didn’t even blink or flinch or make any indication they knew we were standing in front of them.
Frowning, I glanced up at Kalen. “There’s something wrong.”
“I think we may have just discovered why Oberon swaps out his wives every seventy-five years.”
I turned back to the Mortal Queens. Their eyes were so milky that it was impossible to see the browns of the irises any longer. One of them began to hum, a high-pitched tune that sounded like the dying wails of a wounded animal. Shivers stormed across my arms, and I took a step back from pure instinct. My body screamed at me to run, to get as far away from these women as I possibly could.
“Whatever is wrong with them, we can’t leave them here. What if the fires break through? I don’t think they have the ability to save themselves.”
“That might be easier said than done,” he said quietly.
Slowly, I approached the Mortal Queens, hands held up before me. I didn’t want to startle them, and I wasn’t sure how they’d react if I got too close.
“Careful, Tessa,” Kalen warned.
The nearest woman stepped toward me. She reached out a hand. Drawing the stale air into my lungs, I took it.
A strange magic surged through me. The intensity of it was like a storm, full of wind and rain and thunderous booms. It knocked me off my feet, my body crumpling like a puppet without strings. Eyes rolling back into my head, I heard, very distantly, the sound of Kalen’s roar. And then my mind went blank, and a vision filled my head.
Twenty-Three
Oberon
THE CRONE’S VISION
The moment I looked upon her face, I fell in love. Queen Bellicent Denare’s first visit to Albyria came not long after the death of her former husband, a desperate man who—according to gossip—tried to rid their kingdom of the Druids in favor of worship of the gods. The other rumor was, of course, that she was the one who had killed him.
I’d been contemplating cutting trade ties, concerned about allying myself with a kingdom who served the gods.
But then I saw her.
