He was waiting, I knew, but for what? I sensed his impatience like heat from a flame.
He pivoted, slowly, revealing a smooth and muscular chest, the hard line of his jaw. Sharp chin. Sloped nose. Then, the fiery explosion of raging red eyes. Murderous eyes.
“Come closer, Jane.” The voice was a low rumble that shook me to my core. “Come to me.”
The spell broke.
I don’t know how.
Had he done it?
Had I?
I dropped Mrs. Crossey’s hand and pulled my fists to my chest, the Faytling still in my grasp.
Tears flowed down both cheeks faster than I could wipe them away, so I gave up, hung my head, and let them come.
“What’s all this now?”
The voice was soft and cracked from disuse.
Mrs. Crossey looked at me, her eyelids heavy, her lips twitching almost to a smile.
“You’re awake. Thank goodness you’re awake.” The words erupted in gasps. I wanted to grab her around the shoulders and bury myself against her. I wanted her to protect me from that vision, that man or creature or whatever he was.
“Who could sleep with so much racket?” This time she did smile, just a bit but enough that I knew she was teasing.
“Everything’s gone wrong, Mrs. Crossey. The Queen is in danger, and I was wrong—about Mr. Wyck, about the ball, about all of it. It’s all so much worse than I imagined.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed on me. “Slow down, dear. What’s the trouble now?”
Her calm stilled the tempest within me. I tried again. “The man, the one who attacked you, did you see him? Was it Mr. Bailey?”
She closed her eyes. “I didn’t see him.” When her lids fluttered open again, she stared past me. “By the time I knew someone was behind me, it was too late. I awoke in this bed last night with Dr. Holland hovering over me. He wouldn’t tell me what happened. Only that I’d fallen. Of course, I knew it was more than that, but he would say nothing else.”
“Were you hit? Were you pushed?” I was imagining all manner of violence.
“Pushed, I believe. There’s quite a bump where my head may have struck the edge of a step. Could have been worse, Dr. Holland said. I’m inclined to believe him, though the headaches are quite something. He told me to stay in bed for a couple of days to be sure nothing else develops.”
“Develops?”
“A fever, I suppose? Perhaps a rash? Honestly, I have no earthly idea what he meant. I can tell you I’ve had my fill of this room, though. I’d like to get back to my own, but he says that’s out of the question.” She looked from the bedpost to the vanity with the cabriolet legs and the matching wardrobe with inlaid mother-of-pearl roses adorning the doors. Furnishings befitting royalty, but I could see she wasn’t impressed by any of it. She shifted against the mattress. “One prefers one’s own things. I’m not even allowed my magazines,” she added almost as an afterthought.
“I can bring you anything you need.”
“I know.” She tapped the top of the bedlinen. “But what I need isn’t what’s important now. Tell me what you need.”
A simple question. Such a difficult answer.
I looked up at the coffered ceiling so she wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. Emotion locked my throat. I shook my head. What had happened to me? How had I been reduced to a blubbering fool?
“Can you tell me what you saw when you held my hand?” Her voice was hesitant, as if she feared the answer.
I wanted to tell her about the shadowy man, but something told me I shouldn’t. I tightened my grip on the Faytling and did it anyway. “I saw someone, I think it was a man, but he had horrible red eyes.” The words came out in a gust, and once they were out, I could breathe. I felt free, but from what?
Her expression darkened. She stared at me, her expression blank. No, not blank, but intentionally void of the emotion I sensed churning within her. “Who was he?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ve seen him before. His eyes at least. At the tree on the Slopes. And I’ve seen them in dreams.”
Her fingers fluttered to her lips.
I sensed her fear, but I couldn’t stop. I had to tell her everything. “I think Mr. Bailey was Converging with him in Fayte Hall.”
She swallowed hard and maneuvered herself up until she was sitting upright, facing me. “Do you think? Or do you know?”
The blackness returned, the emptiness that wanted to swallow my words. And then I realized. I hadn’t seen him in Mrs. Crossey’s mind. He was inside my own. I could feel him there still.
But he couldn’t stop me. I wouldn’t let him.
My determination had the opposite effect on Mrs. Crossey, however. She shrank where she sat. Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed the saddest of sighs.
“Do you know who he is?” I whispered.
She didn’t look up, but she nodded. “He’s the one who came before. From the Lady’s world. But he’s not like the Lady. He’s… I had hoped never to hear of him again. I’d hoped he couldn’t hurt us. But it’s my fault he’s here. I allowed him into this world once long ago. And now he’s back.”
She opened the door? What Marlie had told me came back: the little girl scrying on her own. The monster she released. “You were the child…”
She looked past me, into the distance, over miles of time and heartache. I could imagine she was seeing the moment she had cracked open the world and let a monster in. A malevolent figure with flaming eyes. She had been the child who had changed everything.
“It was me. I started all of this. I betrayed the Lady of the Fayte. That must be why she turned her back on us.”
“But you were a
