door.
We slammed through behind him, finding ourselves in yet another communal living room. But this was cozier, less austere, with leather sofas and rocking chairs and a cheery fire blazing away. In the center of the room, near a small seating arrangement, three elves were kneeling on the floor by the side of a woman. She looked middle-aged, which meant she had to be incredibly old, and she was seizing. Spittle frothed out of her mouth as her body convulsed, wracked in spasms. One of the elves was trying to turn her on her side, while another was murmuring some sort of spell, low and ominous.
Trenyth pushed aside the elf trying to help the woman and knelt beside her. “Have you called for the healers?”
“Yes, Lord Trenyth. They are on the way.”
“What happened?” He managed to flip her over so the froth didn’t choke her. As her body spasmed, he laid his hands on her and I had the feeling he was working some sort of magic.
The elf he’d pushed aside answered. “We were discussing what the . . .” He paused, glancing our way, and his gaze flickered back to Trenyth, who seemed to understand what he was about to say.
“It’s all right. They’re here to help.”
“Thank you, my Lord. We were talking about the energy looming over the city when Elthea slipped into a trance. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she said, in a loud male voice, ‘It’s too late . . . we are here.’ And then, she went into seizure.”
At that moment, the healers burst through the room and took over. Trenyth moved back to give them space. I tapped Camille and Menolly on the shoulder, and we moved off to the side. Shade followed.
“What the hell is going on?” I told them what Greta had said to me, figuring we’d better have everything out in the open.
Camille pressed her lips together and glanced over her shoulder at Elthea, who now seemed to be out of the convulsions, but was still unconscious. “The question is, who spoke through her?”
Trenyth joined us. “Come with me. This requires a visit. I normally would never allow you where we’re going, but after what you felt, Camille, and what Greta said to you, Delilah, you must come with me. I’m afraid Shade cannot join us. We don’t allow dragons in the restricted area. Nor Menolly, I’m afraid.”
Menolly held up her hand when I started to protest. “It’s all right. Shade and I’ll join Trillian to help watch after Chase and Sharah. We’ll be right here when you get back.”
Without waiting for our answer, Trenyth hurried Camille and me through the room and out the back. He said nothing, hushing me before I could ask where we were going. We followed silently, rushing to keep up with him. His feet were flying, and while we could keep to a pace, it wasn’t easy. Elves were lighter on their feet than the Fae.
The corridors went by in a haze of marble and magical light, and I lost track of the twists and turns as we wound our way through the palace. Camille gave me a strained look but remained silent. As we passed, no sound followed except for the hollow stroke of her heels against the marble, and the soft fall of my boots. We were a blur of motion, a whirlwind racing through the empty corridors. I had no sense of what time it was, though I knew it couldn’t be later than eight o’clock ES time.
And then, we were there. Wherever
The ancient, sonorous rhythm of Trenyth’s voice lulled me. He sang the words, on and on, weaving the magic through them. He was a charmer with a snake, a whisperer of horses, a tamer of all beasts and wild things, and his voice could cajole blood from the body, stones from the earth.
A minute passed, then another. On the third, the door shifted, slowly swinging inward. Trenyth let his words drift back into silence and nodded for us to follow him through. As we entered the room, I was surprised to see it was quite plain, not elaborate at all. There was a table in the center, and on that table, in a stand large enough to safely hold it, a glowing crystal orb. It was bigger than my head, bigger than a bowling ball, and it was emanating a brilliant blue light from its core.
The room was nearly empty, except for the dais and the orb. There were chairs around the table, tall enough to lean over to gaze at the crystal. The room was lit by eye catchers, softly glowing near the ceiling. Trenyth motioned for us to take a seat. Camille slid into the chair next to him, and I sat on the other side.
I wanted to ask what we were looking for, but a crackle sounded from the orb and the light began to spin. Camille leaned closer. I wanted to say “back away” . . . I wanted to shout “get out of there” . . . but there was no time.
The spinning blue light swirled into a vortex that rose over our heads. It spread out, clouds filling the room, flickering silver with sparkles of blue mixed throughout.
“Pretty . . .” Camille sounded entranced. She stood and reached up, as if to touch the mist. As Trenyth realized what was going on, he dove for her, as I tried to make my way across the table.
The clouds began to spin again, faster and faster, filling the room, expanding out, forks of miniature lightning flaring out to attach themselves to Camille. They began to attack her, racing up and down her body as she tried to slap them away.
Trenyth lunged, trying to protect her as I tripped over a hidden flange on the table and went skidding over the edge, hitting my chin on the floor. We all went down, with the lightning focusing on Camille. A moment later, as we scrambled for the door, the room shook and a sound like crashing thunder rolled through the air. The storm clouds we were facing shrank and vanished.
“Fuck, what’s happening?” Camille managed to pull herself by holding on to one of the chairs.
I followed suit, realizing that the floor was rolling under our feet. “Earthquake!”
Trenyth panicked. “The Queen! I must get to her side!” He turned to us.
“Go—we’ll find our way out. Just go.” I shoved him toward the door and he stumbled out as the quaking went on and on. The sound grew from thunder to freight train, and I thought I could hear screams racing by, a blur in the mayhem.
Camille made her way over to the door, crawling on her hands and knees. “We need to get in the arch!”
But the door had swung shut again and there was no visible handle, no way to open it. We were trapped in the room. On the plus side, our nasty lightning storm seemed to be gone, but on the other hand—so did any escape. And the rumbling beneath our feet continued to grow.
“Get under the table, it looks strong enough to shield us.” I grabbed Camille by the arm. We crawled under the dais, which was made of solid marble. If it cracked on us, we’d have one hell of a headache, but if it held, we’d be protected from falling debris. And given that the quake hadn’t stopped, I doubted we’d get through without something breaking off and tumbling down from the ceiling.
The rumbling became more violent. Camille and I held on to each other, cowering against the center pedestal. I could hear her whispering something under her breath but couldn’t tell if it was a spell or a prayer.
Rolling in waves, the floor rippled beneath us, like an ocean of marble, fracturing as a network of faults ran through it. And then, a loud crash, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something thunder to the ground in a shower of dust. Another crack, and another shower of dust.
I had no clue how long the quake had been rolling through the palace. It felt like forever, like it would never end, and my stomach lurched with both fear and nausea. The worst boat ride in the world would be better than this. And then . . . slowly, the noise began to fade, and Camille squeezed my hand as the rolling slowed and— finally—stopped.
We waited for a moment, then scrambled out from beneath the table. The eye catchers were still glowing, but the dust clouded our sight. Only a few feet away, one of the stone figurines ornamenting the walls had tumbled to the floor, barely missing the table. It was big enough that it would have smashed us flat, for sure, if it had hit.
Coughing as the clouds of dust and debris filled the air, we stared at the destruction. The room was unrecognizable. Whatever decoration there had been lay in ruins, and the floor was a mishmash of broken marble. Camille inched her way closer to me and I took her hand, afraid to move for fear of setting off something.
