As soon as Olivia fell asleep, she found herself in the middle of the woods, following a strange woman. The dreaming queen’s feet brushed across sharp stones and tree needles. They were heading towards a familiar place. The large redwood tree and the bivouac that Olivia was sleeping in were now before her. Olivia saw the guards sitting around a small fire, talking. As the queen and the woman came closer to the bivouac, the stranger reached in her gown and brought out her hand with two grimy fingertips, dripping with oily goo. When she clicked her fingers, a salty, bitter odor filled the air. Every breath became thick and potent. It made the guards faint.
In the light of the flame, Olivia saw the lanky, old woman flaunting three rotten teeth and a dirt-covered face, wrinkled and ragged. She wore a dark multi-stained gown with a ripped hood. Unnoticed, she slithered inside the bivouac of the most protected family on the planet without a sound. Olivia was right behind her.
The moonlight shone through the slit of the fabric entrance onto the cheeks of the children’s faces. Inside the bivouac was just as Gretchen had set everything.
Still dreaming, Olivia followed the woman as she crawled over to Anna and Indrid who lay peacefully next to their foster father, Lord Alexandal. The stranger sniffed the sleeping children’s breaths as they exhaled, her hand grazing their cheeks. But it was obvious to Olivia that Alexandal was the woman’s first target. The woman turned and stared at him deeply; shaking her head back and forth with an ominous smile. A string of saliva dripped from her lip as she placed her palm on Alexandal’s head and began to mumble. Deep undertones roared within her words, but she remained quiet enough not to wake the unaware. With the print of her finger fouled with dirt and blood, she stamped Alexandal’s forehead, leaving a thumbprint. Then the ugly face turned again, this time to the sleeping queen. Olivia saw her own body, lying there completely oblivious to the intruder standing just feet from her. And at that moment, Olivia realized she was having another nightmare. But this time, it felt real.
“How pretty you are,” the woman said to the sleeping queen, drooling on Olivia’s night gown; the one that her mother had fashioned for her for the birthday before she died. “As of this night, your riches and luxuries will end my sweet beauty. Everything is about to change.”
Fear overwhelmed Olivia. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t.
With overgrown fingernails the woman raised Olivia’s gown, exposing her belly decorated with angelic symbols. She put her ear on the queen’s stomach and listened for the baby’s heartbeat. Then, she drew symbols of her own with a dark, dusty powder. She spit on the animal hide underlayment and threw out an assortment of rocks and gems into the dribble, quietly chanting in a foreign language.
The mage straddled the dreaming queen. She gripped one of her wooden teeth and pulled the root out, exposing a long, sharp blade, then glided the edge along the queen’s belly, smearing all of the markings Montague had drawn earlier.
“Intruder!” a guard yelled from outside.
Everyone woke.
As Olivia’s nightmare abruptly ended, the hard, frantic beating of her heart felt painful upon waking. She was in tears, and the children were terrified by the ugly face standing before them.
Alexandal threw off his blanket and lunged at the mage, but she jumped from the bivouac and out of reach before the lord could grip her trailing gown.
MONTAGUE LA-ROSE saw the children running from the bivouac, screaming.
“What in God’s name is happening?” Montague shouted to one of the guards.
Panicked, the guard hesitated. “We were ambushed, my lord,” he stuttered, finding his thoughts.
“Montague!” Alexandal yelled, thrusting out from the royal family’s bivouac.
Montague tried to run faster than his legs could stretch. Gretchen was right behind him. Olivia’s cry sounded like she was in more pain than she should be. And he didn’t know what to expect upon entering.
When he and Gretchen passed through the curtain, they found the queen soaked with sweat. Her face was pale and cold, her eyes unfocused. Gretchen went back outside to attend to the frightened children. The smudged markings on Olivia’s exposed belly and the dust print on Alexandal’s forehead amplified Montague’s fear of what he was dealing with: witchcraft. No doubt this was a curse sent by Demitri, the Nekrum’s host.
Alexandal kneeled on the opposite side of the queen and took her hand. “It’s all right, my love. I’m with you.”
Montague could see both anger and fear in Alexandal’s eyes.
“Something’s wrong, Montague,” Olivia moaned with a desperate shiver.
“You’re having a baby. Everything is going to be fine.” Montague forced a smile. He needed to remain calm and relaxed, at least on the outside. It was important that he present a positive attitude to lighten the painful situation. But inside, he was terrified. The only things that mattered to him were the safety of the queen and the future ruler of the great kingdom of Men. It was all resting on the abilities of Montague La-Rose.
“No, something is wrong. Something has happened to me.” Olivia began to break down when she saw that the ‘protective symbols’ had been violated while she was sleeping.
The royal handmaids surrounded the queen. They applied dozens of cold towels across her head and shoulders, trying
