I heard a terrified scream and stopped. I looked up. A wooden beam was poised to come crashing down on the child’s head. But in a flash, my mother was beside my past self, her fae strength and speed the only reason I was alive today. She scooped the child Aurora up in her arms and darted out of the burning room. Part of the room crumbled behind us as the ceiling caved in. Wafts of billowing black smoke chased us, flames licking at our heels.
Young Aurora clung to her mother’s neck as they ran into a vast stone corridor with massive windows and statues lining the walls. The winter night was void of moonlight, and half-burned torches flickered and died. From within the darkness, sinister black shapes moved toward them, cutting off their escape.
We stopped, backs to the wall, watching helplessly as I relived my parents’ last day.
A shadowy figure emerged from the group, holding the curved Dagger with the huge red ruby flashing on its shining golden hilt. It was a woman. Her crimson robes swirled around her like a shroud of blood as she moved toward my mother.
I would know her anywhere. Morgana!
“Give her up, Elayna,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper that carried on the wings of a shadow. Her bright, emerald-green eyes flashed with triumph.
“Never, Morgana.” My mother set me down beside her, still holding my hand. “Stay still, Aurora, and do exactly as I say.”
Little Aurora nodded her head quickly, understanding only that it was very important to listen to her mother.
“You cannot escape me, Elayna,” said Morgana. “Give me the child.”
Morgana was advancing on them, but my mother made no move to run. I wanted to shout at her to escape, not to send me away.
My childhood self pulled at her hand frantically, trying to do the same thing, to run as fast as we could, but stood rooted to the spot as per my mother’s instructions.
Morgana’s crimson robes fanned about her as she glided forward, her feet barely touching the ground. She raised her arm, clutching the gleaming Dagger in her clawed fingers.
My mother closed her eyes, and I knew what she was doing. She was preparing the portal, gathering her magic.
Suddenly, my mother’s eyes snapped open, flashing silver. She raised both her arms over her head, bringing them down in front of her in one sweeping motion.
The power she unleashed was immense, ancient.
My mother moved to shield her child from Morgana, the Dagger still coming for her heart. But an invisible force held little Aurora in its grip; as the portal opened, young Aurora was pulled backward.
“Nooo!” screeched Morgana, flying at them, and plunged the gleaming Dagger into my mother’s heart.
A flash of blinding light. My mother disappeared.
I hung my head and closed my eyes. It was more painful to watch than I had imagined. I turned to Victor. “Let’s go. I’ve seen enough.”
Victor put his hand gently over my arm. “There’s more.”
My eyes flew open. This was where my dream had ended.
“What have you done?” Joreth snarled, hurrying down the corridor toward Morgana. “Where is the child?”
Morgana spun around to face her father. “I couldn’t help it. Elayna sent her away through a portal before I could get my hands on her.”
Joreth raised his hand, and his eyes flashed in fury. “Idiot.” He slapped Morgana across her face. “Luckily, I made other arrangements.” He adjusted the sleeves of his robe.
Joreth snapped his fingers, and the Drakaar assassins dragged a man down the corridor.
He looked up.
My voice choked on the word. “Father!”
I recognized him from the portraits I had seen in Silverthorne Castle. He was bleeding and barely conscious as ropes of dark magic held him in check.
I took a step forward, but Victor kept his hand firmly on my arm.
“What is he doing alive?” spat Morgana.
My father’s face was scarred, and deep gashes had split his arm and leg. His lip was split, but he raised his chin and spoke in a clear voice. “How could you betray your own brother, Morgana?”
“You are not my brother,” she said and looked away. “Kill him and be done with it.”
Joreth smiled, looking as sinister as the demon that resided within him. “Not yet. I still need at least one Firedrake alive for what I plan to do. I was intending to keep the child because she would have been easier to control. But now you leave me no choice.”
“How can I be queen if he is still alive?” Morgana snarled. “He has to die.”
“And he will, but not right now,” said Joreth. “As far as anyone is concerned, Azaren and his whole family died in the fire at the Star Palace today. You are now Queen of Illiador.”
He turned to the Drakaar. “Take him away.”
I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth as my knees threatened to buckle under me. “My father is still alive?”
Victor nodded. “It seems so.”
Joreth stopped as if he had heard something and turned to look straight at me. His eyes shone dark as night. He grinned, and a single word escaped his lips. “Dawnstar.”
Victor’s face paled. “He’s seen us!” His voice sounded panicked. The old druid waved his staff in front of us and the Star Palace disappeared.
Penelope’s face was white. “What happened?” she said as soon as we reappeared out of the tapestry. “How did he see us?”
“Who saw you?” Brother Sebastian interrupted. He had been waiting for us in the tapestry room in the tower.
“Dragath,” said Victor.
“Did your shield fall?” Sebastian asked.
“My shield never falls.” Victor gave Sebastian a warning look. “Somehow the demon lord saw us through Joreth’s eyes. The longer Dragath resides within him, the stronger he grows.” He turned to me. “He now knows where you are, and his
