As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the marble gave way to wood, and even the metal handrail warmed under my fingers, reminding me of the oak sprite’s cage. A splinter scratched my finger, making me flinch and snatch my hand away.
“Ouch!” I held my finger to the light but couldn’t find the slither of wood embedded in my skin.
My gaze darted to Drayce, who continued down the stairs, oblivious to the changes. Behind us, Aengus, Cathbad, and Rosalind followed, their faces hardened with grim determination.
“What’s happening to our surroundings?” I asked.
Drayce turned to me and frowned. “I expect with nobody to maintain the magic, the palace is starting to rot.”
“Like the oak sprite’s tree.” I glanced at the walls, which were becoming increasingly dark.
At the foot of the stairs, we stepped into a wide hallway of tarnished silver paintings, pale walls, and a green carpet. Ten feet to our left stood a set of double doors carved with twisted tree shapes. Rosalind flew overhead with her torch, illuminating dust-covered chandeliers and a ceiling caked in thick mildew.
Drayce knelt on the carpet and pointed at a barely visible string of black stretching across the hallway. “There’s my shadow.”
My breath quickened. Cathbad had been correct to suggest that the vines had parted for Erin. It’s the only way she could have entered the palace. “They must be close,” I whispered. “Everybody, ready yourselves for the worst.”
“Now would be a good time to take a grain of salt,” said Cathbad.
Tucking my torch under one arm, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the salt pouch Cathbad gave me and licked the tip of my little finger. Everyone around me did the same. One tiny grain of the white crystals stung my skin, but I placed the smallest amount on my tongue.
Pain burned through my sinuses, swelling my throat and making my eyes water. Drayce coughed, Aengus choked, and Rosalind spluttered. Only Cathbad remained unchanged.
“Right,” I wheezed through tears. “Are we ready to go?”
At everyone’s murmurs of agreement, we set off down the hallway. The green carpet felt lush and spongy underfoot, much like well-tended pasture.
I glanced over my shoulder at Rosalind. “Did the Summer Court have these floors when you last visited?”
She shook her head. “It was a long time ago, Your Majesty. I barely remember.”
“Of course.” Sometimes, it was hard to grasp that everyone around me had spent centuries imprisoned. Even Drayce, who was thirty and extremely young for a faerie, had spent most of his life under the leash of Melusina.
Drayce directed us around a corner and down to a hallway where the carpet’s tread stood six inches tall.
I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked with a frown.
“Doesn’t this look like the bedroom in your dream?”
Drayce raised a shoulder. “It was probably modeled after the Summer Court Palace.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “Come on. Now isn’t the time to falter.”
“I’m not…” My words trailed off.
Maybe he was right, and I was being overly cautious. Maybe the thought of seeing Melusina—my mother—unsettled my nerves. There was so much I wanted to know but never got the chance to ask Father, and I knew she needed a new body and had no other options but me.
I forced a smile. “Let’s go.”
Despite the grass increasing to a foot tall at the end of the hallway, Drayce and I continued side-by-side. We were walking into a trap, but that was the plan, wasn’t it? To confront Melusina and the Fear Dorcha. To stop them from sending assassins after me and to free the Summer Court.
Regrets rained down on me like Ecne’s tears. I should have left Bresail with Father. Should have trusted him to find a way to fix me. Now, I was about to face my most dangerous enemy. My throat tightened, and my breaths turned shallow. Spots of light danced in my vision, and my head filled with clouds.
I stumbled onto my hands and knees, gasping for air.
“Neara,” Drayce dropped to his knees and pulled me up.
I shook my head from side to side and scratched at my constricting throat. My fingers caught something thread-like. I snapped it off, and the thoughts lifted from my mind. Raising my torch, I held the object to the light. It was as thin as a hair and curled around my fingertips.
Drayce pulled the tendril from my fingers and reduced it to dust. “What was that?”
“There’s something wrong with this place.” I pulled myself to my feet and glowered from the swaying grass to the faces of my companions. “Can’t you see?” I locked gazes with Cathbad, whose amber eyes shone gold in the glowing light.
I moved my gaze to Aengus, whose gold curls still drooped from the tree sap. When neither male replied, I turned to Rosalind hovering above them, staring down at me as though I’d lost control of my senses.
Drayce approached from behind and snaked an arm around my waist. “Neara, stay calm,” he murmured into my ear. “It will just take a minute.”
Something wrapped around my torch and pulled. I gripped tight, but slippery tendrils burrowed beneath my fingers and prised it free. I drew in a sharp breath between my teeth, watching my only source of illumination fly from beyond the vines in an arc of light that fell to the ground with a splash.
My breath stilled. Where did the water come from?
As I turned my head to meet quicksilver eyes, another arm wrapped around my middle. It was Drayce’s face, his high cheekbones, bow-shaped lips, and blue-black hair, but the hunger in those wicked, cold eyes belonged to someone else.
Someone who saw me as her property.
Someone who wanted to devour my body and wear it like armor.
Melusina.
Terror tore through my heart with its thorny tendrils. I struggled in her grip, but branches wrapped around me until I couldn’t move my limbs. When I twisted back to Aengus and
