Through the gardens behind the palace, and up to a tall hill, the procession marched. The stone bower, surrounded by beautiful flowers and graceful willow trees, lay open and waiting to receive its occupant.
When the courtiers laid the Queen within and sealed the top with the heavy stone slab, all the Fae let out a final sigh. Upon the strength of that sigh, a rare wind blew within the land of Faerie. The gale fluttered the clothing of all present and made the leaves shake.
A wall of pressure pushed out from the stone grave, invisible yet unmistakable. It shoved against each of the attendees, tingling power through their bodies. Clíodhna gasped as it flushed through her, invigorating her with energy and pain.
Her hands throbbed and her head pounded. She pushed her palms against her forehead, but nothing abated the ache. With a sob, she ran down the hill, disregarding all protocol and etiquette. Grimnaugh called after her, but she must not remain in that place. She needed to escape.
Down the hill she ran, dodging lesser Fae who still walked at the tail end of the procession. She ran until her legs ached, her feet throbbed, and her lungs burned. She ran blindly, without direction or purpose, just away from whatever exploded from the Queen’s tomb.
When she reached the lazy creek encircling the palace, she collapsed to the ground, her body craving a drink. With cupped hands, she slurped several handfuls of sweet water into her parched throat. The liquid dribbled down her throat, bringing her voice back to life and she closed her eyes in sheer pleasure before emerging once again.
Her head still ached, but at least now her mind worked. What came from the tomb? Some spell, perhaps? A final death curse from the Queen? Some shifting in the magic of Faerie? She didn’t know, and didn’t wish to find the answer.
A presence at her back halted her musings. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to face anyone, not right now. Not until she gained more control over her thoughts. She craved Adhna’s return. Maybe Grimnaugh had caught up with her, despite his short legs.
Clíodhna glanced up to find who stood behind her, only to find Bodach grinning down at her with wry amusement. Her skin pebbled and she swallowed, wishing she’d drunk more water.
“You seem out of sorts, sweet Clíodhna. Let me help you to the palace.” He reached down for her hand, but she snatched it out of his grasp.
“I have no business there now. With the Queen’s death, I am no longer a handmaiden. I shall wait for Grimnaugh to take me back to Adhna’s roundhouse.”
“You are correct. You are no longer the Queen’s handmaiden. Instead, you are so much more.”
She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “You aren’t making sense. Go away. I don’t want you near me.”
His smile widened into an exultant joy. “But I must be near you, my Queen. My place is to be forever by your side from this day on. I’m now your consort.”
Stunned by Bodach’s declaration, Clíodhna allowed him to help her to her feet. Cerul ran up, out of breath. The tall Fae glared at Bodach but didn’t interfere. A few courtiers arrived, each one glancing between each other, trying to figure out what happened next. Bodach clutched Clíodhna’s hand and drew her toward the palace. She resisted, but no strength remained to fight against him.
Step by step, the palace grew closer, looming taller above her. The previously light, soaring towers and arches now grew sinister, dark and foreboding despite the glittering white stone with specks of blue.
Courtiers fell into step behind them, creating an informal procession into the palace. The new Faerie Queen and her court.
Clíodhna didn’t understand how. She was human, not Fae. Sure, Adhna mentioned she possessed Fae blood, thus explaining her ability to perform magic, but a Queen must need to be full-blooded Fae, not part human.
The thoughts and contradictions whirled in her mind and the impact from the Queen’s magic on the hill kept her from being able to make sense out of them. They danced and swirled, not allowing her to settle on one spot and untangle the mess.
Clíodhna no longer controlled her own body. As soon as Bodach took her hand, he exerted his will over her. She’d no time to build up any defenses, as Adhna had taught her. Bodach’s will made her feet take each step forward.
Step by step toward the palace.
They entered the main archway, and many Fae now lined the halls, bowing as she walked by. Bodach kept a firm grip on her hand, pulling her along as if they walked as equals.
Step by step toward the throne.
The hallway dimmed as she passed, the light focusing on her. Did Cerul have control over that or did some ambient, low-key magic work as part of the palace itself? The throne looked wicked as they grew closer, its bare branches entwined in a hopeless knot, eager to reach out and catch her clothing, her tender skin, to pull her into its clutches.
Inside, unable to make a sound, she screamed. Her face remained still and yet her mind gibbered in fear. She shouldn’t be here! This wasn’t her place!
She glimpsed green skin to her left. Grimnaugh caught up to them. He seemed both panicked and hopeful. She grasped a modicum of peace in that assessment.
They climbed the dais and when she turned to sit on the throne, Bodach held her hand tight. “Wait, my Queen. The proprieties must be observed at all times.”
Clíodhna froze, casting around for any sign of what came next. She still couldn’t move her body. Could she speak? She cleared her throat, testing
