Page 60 of Fading Sun

Just when I’m wondering how quickly it’ll take to die from an exploding crystal, the light dims behind my lids.

Slowly, I lower my hand and open my eyes.

The door’s standing wide open, the light settled into a gentle, swirling glow that illuminates a path into the mystical realm.

I squint, trying to see what’s beyond the portal, but it’s impossible to tell.

It’s so different than when we entered the mystical realm at Grand Central Station. There wasn’t a grand, swirling light there. Just a door that led into a creepy black void. And in the story Morgan told me about her and Blaze entering the mystical realm in the Alps, they had to pass a test and cross a deadly bridge.

Then there’s the fae realm, which transforms around you at the same time each night.

I suppose no two entrances into the mystical realm are the same.

“So,” I say, staring at it in awe, barely aware of the others gathering around me. “Do we just… walk through?”

Instead of answering my question, Morgan hands her crystal to me. “Take these,” she says, glancing at the others to do the same. “They belong to you.”

I almost tell her that we should each hold onto our own crystals. But I stop myself, because there’s something in her eyes that makes me feel like she wants me to take them for a reason.

“Sure,” I say, and I grab my pack from where it’s sitting nearby, stuffing the four crystals inside it.

“You did a good job,” Damien says after the crystals are secure.

He’s also grabbed his pack, and he looks ready to get out of here. Morgan and Blaze have their packs on them now, too.

“It took me long enough,” I say, since even though I’m relieved I eventually did it, I wish I’d been able to get it on the first try.

“You should accept the compliment and say thank you,” he says. “Queens take praise graciously, and they never diminish their own accomplishments.”

So, now I’m getting lessons on how to be a queen.

“How about we get the Solar Scepter, save the city from the shadow souls, and then start my royal etiquette lessons?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

“Queens don’t glare at people, either,” he adds. “Especially not at their husband, while surrounded by onlookers.”

I can’t tell if he’s serious, or if he’s doing this for his own amusement, to press my buttons.

I don’t ask. Because all I can do is repeat that one word in my mind.

Husband.

I’m married. To Damien.

The wedding doesn’t feel real. I don’t feel like I’m somebody’s wife.

“Queens also don’t open portals just to stare at them and not walk through,” I finally say, and to make my point, I stride past him and make my way to the portal.

“Wait!” someone calls out—the Abbot.

I spin around and look at him, on the floor, with his hands tied behind him. His face has cuts on it from the fight, his robes are singed, and his expression is more scared than angry.

The other monks look just as pathetic.

At least we were careful. None of their injuries are fatal.

“Yes?” I ask, waiting for him to continue.

“You did that spell on the crystals,” he says. “Can you do anything to heal my men? To make us stronger?”

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