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When the size of the crowd beyond the archway came into view, my breaths became shallow, our conversation driven from my mind. We reached the threshold, and I saw over the side of the veranda. My feet refused to move any farther, stalling the procession.
A sea of figures bunched together—their numbers rolling back, spilling out beyond the gate along the wall guarding the palace. So many.
I was supposed to present myself as their queen.
How could I speak to them? I was about to shatter their lives.
Dagda gave a soft tug forward. I glanced up into his face. “I believe in you.”
“You shouldn’t,” I breathed.
Ornan’s tokens grated against my skin. Dared I use them? Making a deal with a demon had proved dangerous, but what if it was the only way to save the faeries? Save the Otherworld from my sisters?
“I will introduce you. The edge of the veranda is magically enhanced so they can hear us.” Dagda squeezed my hand. “Remember, you are their returning queen. They are eager to listen to whatever you have to say. Speak from your heart and all will be well.”
A tightness burned in my chest. “Right, from my heart.” And keep the whispers at bay. Already they tugged at the rear of my mind. I forced myself to take a step and another.
With Ornan’s wishes, I’d save these people. These people who strangely believed I belonged to them. And then I’d go home to my human life.
The court filled in behind us, but in that instant, it was only Dagda and me before the numerous hosts.
A hush fell over the crowd as we approached the railing, and Dagda lifted his arms. Fuchsia and lavender flowers edged the large marble veranda, their soft petals brushed over my hands.
The last murmurs of the crowd died into silence.
“Today is a momentous day. After a long absence, our queen has at last returned to us! I present to you Queen Morrigan of the faeries!”
Murmurs of “My Queen” reverberated through the crowd as they bent, bowing before me.
He motioned to me.
I gazed out over the rows and rows of spectators. “Please. Rise.”
They rose. So many gazes filled with so much anticipation. “So my arrival here was a bit unexpected. For me, as it most likely was for you. I look a little different.” A low ripple of agreement and laughter drifted up from below. “And I, uh, know I’m young…”
I glanced at Dagda whose face was stone, but I noted the concern in his eyes. My speech wasn’t coming across very queenly.
“I—” A spark of electricity shot up my spine. I went rigid. No. Not here, not now. My vision tunneled and panic climbed up my throat. This wasn’t Badb or Macha.
The future was coming for me.
“Queen Morrigan?” Dagda took a step forward.
I was powerless to stop it. My body pitched forward, bending over the railing.
Dagda cried out. Gasps and screams rose from the crowd. The world faded as I plunged headfirst for the cobbled stone below.
A scene of carnage and death laid before me. A field stretched as far as the eye could see, interspersed with swords and spears sticking up from the ground, out of fallen enemies. Torn flags fluttered in the breeze.
And bodies. There were so many bodies. Hundreds. Thousands. Elves and faeries laying in their gore, their flesh ripped open, insides spilling out. There were others with pale skin, others with red. Some looked like dark twisted beasts from a nightmare, but the clawed nails gave them away. Clawed nails like Ornan.
Demons.
Nothing moved. It was a graveyard of the fallen. Of great armies crushed.
In the middle of the slaughter, I saw a face I recognized. He was on his knees, body bent double as if he had died in the act of prostrating. The left side of his face pressed into the bloody ground, unseeing eyes wide, mouth parted. His throat was ripped wide open.
Keelin. Dagda’s guard. Mina’s brother.
