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Fates often wear long, dark veils over their faces, making them appear more mysterious and sometimes frightening. Like now, when she’s snuck up on me.
Back against the wall, I whisper, “June, is that you?” I love my sister-in-law, but when she’s being all fatey, the magic buzzing around her creeps me out.
“You will meet your fate at the Winter Court,” she says, her voice sounding as if a chorus of females speaks it.
This is Augusta, the fate who sees the future, the one I prayed to just moments ago.
I gulp. “What do you mean?”
The fate’s magic settles over my senses like a balm of cool water on a burn, and Augusta sweeps away her veil. Blinking, she smiles, and there she is, my friend, the white swirl of magic retreating from her gray eyes.
Confused, she looks around. “Oh, this is where I landed with that vision, huh? Neat.”
“Welcome.” I step over the fallen partition carefully so as not to hurt myself. “Can I hug you, or is hugging against fate rules now that you’re the Unseelie queen?”
She opens her arms, and we hug.
“I missed you, Fleur.” She inhales loudly. “You smell so good.”
“As do you.” She’s a Seelie fairy through and through, but with a hint of danger and powerful fate magic. Since mating Aamako, Augusta carries the scent of Summer fae with a hint of winter evergreens and leather.
“You look radiant,” I tell her.
“You look…” She sighs. “It’s really unfair you look beautiful even before you’ve dressed for an outing.”
“Let’s have tea.” I take her hand and pull her toward the door, but she stalls. “I can’t stay long. I’m actually here unofficially.”
Her magic tingles my senses. Creepy.
I sit at the foot of the bed and fold my hands in my lap. Bad news or warnings or times when fates visit your chambers are best taken while sitting.
“What is it?” I ask, worrying my bottom lip.
“Aamako and I want to host the winter season.”
“Great news.”
She nods, then worries her lip as if she’s carefully choosing her words. “I see turmoil in the near future. A shift in power, and you at the center of it. Fleur, when you arrive at the Winter Court, you must stay away from the room at the bottom of the tower. It is spelled, and if you go inside it, you will enter a sleep so deep, you won’t be able to awaken from it.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
Augusta makes a sad face and takes my hands in hers. “I’m sorry for the gloomy forewarning. I wrote to you, and I bet my letter arrived and someone hid it.”
I tsk. “Evie’s folks remind me of my own mother.”
“Vicious,” Augusta says. “It’s a good thing you summoned me, then.”
I frown. “I didn’t summon you.”
“Sure you did, Fleur. I felt the tug and answered.”
I gasp. “You mean to tell me that when people call upon fates, you can feel their call as tugging? Thousands of fae all over the land are calling for you all the time. How do you bear it?”
Augusta laughs, her voice sounding like multiple voices in a chorus. “Your magic paired with the future events called me.” She lifts a finger. “Hold on, June is communicating. She says she found the letter.” Augusta extends her gloved hand, and the chamber door creaks open, admitting a letter. It lands on her palm. “Here it is.”
Having a fate for a sister-in-law means I’m used to displays of the fate’s power and the sensation of ants crawling under my skin as it manifests, but each fate has her own special magic, and Augusta’s magic feels anticipatory, making my heart beat faster.
I accept the letter and read it.
