fighting, or who our enemies were, and fought only to survive, to kill whomever stood in our way.
I remembered that face, the face that had haunted me so many times before, icy and remote, yet so beautiful: its paleness like the marble statues that stood in the Great Hall. What Great Hall? My memories searched each other, making connections. The Great Hall of the Summer Court.
Where the siege had taken place. Siege?
I could remember at last only that pain, that pain that had made me clap a hand over my mouth and scream first in shock and then in astonishing pain which crumbled me to the floor. The pain so sharp and sudden I thought it had killed me where I stood. My hands moved to the wound, but there was no wound.
My muscles remembered the pain; they tensed as my fingers touched the contours of my belly. But there was no scar there, no line. There was no pain, only the echo of a pain that had been felt once before. Something had happened, but whatever it was, it had been fixed. It had been taken away. Had another fairy healed me – is that what it was? Had a Summer fairy taken out the wound and replaced it with new, pink skin?
I tried to sit up again, higher, this time, and suddenly pain sent shock waves through my system. My head had collided with something hard, something that left a trail of silver trickling from my forehead…
Silver? My mind began to shudder and shake. I didn’t have silver blood. Only true fairies had silver blood. I was a Halfling, one who bled red like the humans from the Land Beyond the Crystal River. What was going on?
I felt again the thing… invisible and sharp… that had collided with my head, running my palms up and down, trying to ascertain its surface. Whatever it was – some hard and invisible thing … it seemed to be trapping me on all sides, holding me inwards, keeping me on the slab of ice.
I pushed up, harder, squeezing my muscles and groaning with the effort, but it was no use. The invisible covering surrounding me remained immobile, mute, cloying.
I began to breathe faster now as terror took hold of me. “Help!” I cried out, and my voice seemed to echo within the confined space of the covering. “Help me, somebody help me!”
But I heard no sound in response; my voice had been muffled inside the slab. I beat at the covering until my hands bruised, but there was nothing. Nobody would come to save me.
Come on, Breena , I told myself. Use your magic. I imagined myself commanding the cover to rise up, imagined it rearing back, shattering in deference to my will. I used the magic of Summer, which came from being its Queen and felt a warm amber glow heat up within my confines. But still the covering would not move, even as I squeezed my eyes shut and focused all my concentration on that heavy, terrible invisible slab.
I was trapped. I looked around the room, wildly, hoping for some answer, hoping for some deliverance. I could see only the flowers… the orange-blossoms of the Summer Court and the cold winter lilies… decaying and withered alongside the slab.
And then it hit me. I was in a coffin. This place – this beautiful, cold place – was my tomb. I wasn’t in the Summer Court at all. I had been buried alive.
And I could not stop myself from screaming.
My scream died as the footsteps – hard, decisive footsteps, sounded in the hallway, and the door opened. For a moment my heart leaped with relief. Somebody had heard, after all! Somebody knew where I was. Somebody was going to save me!
And then I froze, for I knew him. I knew the figure that had just walked in, the figure that I had not seen in a while – whom I had expected, hoped, never to see again.
It was Delano, the Pixie King.
Chapter 3
I had hoped never to see Delano again. When I had escaped from him many months ago… carting Logan away to safety… I had sworn to myself that I would do everything in my power not
I remembered that face, the face that had haunted me so many times before, icy and remote, yet so beautiful: its paleness like the marble statues that stood in the Great Hall. What Great Hall? My memories searched each other, making connections. The Great Hall of the Summer Court.
Where the siege had taken place. Siege?
I could remember at last only that pain, that pain that had made me clap a hand over my mouth and scream first in shock and then in astonishing pain which crumbled me to the floor. The pain so sharp and sudden I thought it had killed me where I stood. My hands moved to the wound, but there was no wound.
My muscles remembered the pain; they tensed as my fingers touched the contours of my belly. But there was no scar there, no line. There was no pain, only the echo of a pain that had been felt once before. Something had happened, but whatever it was, it had been fixed. It had been taken away. Had another fairy healed me – is that what it was? Had a Summer fairy taken out the wound and replaced it with new, pink skin?
I tried to sit up again, higher, this time, and suddenly pain sent shock waves through my system. My head had collided with something hard, something that left a trail of silver trickling from my forehead…
Silver? My mind began to shudder and shake. I didn’t have silver blood. Only true fairies had silver blood. I was a Halfling, one who bled red like the humans from the Land Beyond the Crystal River. What was going on?
I felt again the thing… invisible and sharp… that had collided with my head, running my palms up and down, trying to ascertain its surface. Whatever it was – some hard and invisible thing … it seemed to be trapping me on all sides, holding me inwards, keeping me on the slab of ice.
I pushed up, harder, squeezing my muscles and groaning with the effort, but it was no use. The invisible covering surrounding me remained immobile, mute, cloying.
I began to breathe faster now as terror took hold of me. “Help!” I cried out, and my voice seemed to echo within the confined space of the covering. “Help me, somebody help me!”
But I heard no sound in response; my voice had been muffled inside the slab. I beat at the covering until my hands bruised, but there was nothing. Nobody would come to save me.
Come on, Breena , I told myself. Use your magic. I imagined myself commanding the cover to rise up, imagined it rearing back, shattering in deference to my will. I used the magic of Summer, which came from being its Queen and felt a warm amber glow heat up within my confines. But still the covering would not move, even as I squeezed my eyes shut and focused all my concentration on that heavy, terrible invisible slab.
I was trapped. I looked around the room, wildly, hoping for some answer, hoping for some deliverance. I could see only the flowers… the orange-blossoms of the Summer Court and the cold winter lilies… decaying and withered alongside the slab.
And then it hit me. I was in a coffin. This place – this beautiful, cold place – was my tomb. I wasn’t in the Summer Court at all. I had been buried alive.
And I could not stop myself from screaming.
My scream died as the footsteps – hard, decisive footsteps, sounded in the hallway, and the door opened. For a moment my heart leaped with relief. Somebody had heard, after all! Somebody knew where I was. Somebody was going to save me!
And then I froze, for I knew him. I knew the figure that had just walked in, the figure that I had not seen in a while – whom I had expected, hoped, never to see again.
It was Delano, the Pixie King.
Chapter 3
I had hoped never to see Delano again. When I had escaped from him many months ago… carting Logan away to safety… I had sworn to myself that I would do everything in my power not
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