Page 148 of The Mirror of Beasts

They looked like study rooms, of a sort. All but one had signs that read OCCUPIED. Robin flipped the sign on the final door as they ushered me in.

It was larger than it had looked from the outside, big enough to fit a table with six seats. A small statue of the Goddess had been placed beside the door, as if to guard it. The candle in her upturned hands was unlit, but there was a faint glow radiating from behind the curtains that surrounded the room on all sides.

“Have a seat,” Robin said, sitting on the edge of the desk, where they had easy access to the paper and quills. “Do you mind if we dive right in?”

“Sure,” I said, my brow creasing. A strange feeling, almost like static, growled against the back of my neck. I rubbed at it, but it didn’t go away.

“Can you tell me what happened when you found Excalibur?” Robin asked, dabbing the quill into the ink. “Spare no detail. Even something you think is irrelevant could be helpful.”

“All right … well, there was a dragon,” I began.

Robin’s head shot up, their amber-colored eyes wide. “Really? A red dragon?”

“Yup,” I said, then told Robin about Neve’s appearance at the end of the hall, just in time to save us.

“How did you get to Lyonesse in the first place?” they asked.

“A hag,” I said. “The Hag of the Moors?”

“A hag?” Robin repeated, with obvious envy. “What was she like? Did she exhibit—” At my pained look, they caught themselves. “Okay, we’ll come back to that. Go on.”

I continued, explaining how Nash and Caitriona had managed to kill and gut the dragon. Robin looked to be fighting not to ask me something. Their expression reminded me so much of Neve, a pang went through my chest.

“So the dragon is cut open, and all of the various things spill out, including Excalibur?” Robin prompted.

“Not Excalibur,” I said. “Neve found the sword lodged in the dragon’s throat. She asked if the hilt was supposed to have beasts on it and then grabbed it, pulling it free, and that’s when all of the magic and light exploded around us.”

Robin’s brow furrowed. They scribbled something on a sheet of paper, holding it against their leg. “And the light that exploded around her, she’s been able to call on it before without the sword?”

“Yes.” Something about the way the mage asked the question made my pulse tick up. “What’s wrong?”

Robin ignored my question in favor of their own. “Have you ever seen her exhibit any other unusual abilities—something maybe involving plants, or the recent dead?”

That sinister prickling sensation was back, spreading over my arms as the hair there rose. I felt almost dizzy with it. “No.”

Before I could ask what they were talking about, Robin was already moving out of the door, saying, “Stay right here—right here, okay? I’ll be back. I just need to—”

They shut the door before they finished their explanation.

The buzzing around me didn’t cease, it only grew louder, until the curtains, and that strange light emanating from behind them, seemed to shiver with it. I moved to the nearest curtain, drawing it back.

Behind it was a wall of protective glass. And behind that was …

The tapestry was a fraction of the size of the one in Lyonesse’s great hall, but I recognized it instantly, even without the layer of ice. The mortal men in their fields, trying to spark fire. The Firstborn wearing their crowns. The clash of swords.

I pulled the next curtain away, my heart hammering. The man with the silver hand, Nudd Llaw Ereint, and his three sons.

The humming grew louder in my ears. I hadn’t seen the other panels in the hall—they’d been covered by too much ice or destroyed by water and age. I pulled the next curtain open.

My skin was crawling over my bones—as if something were moving beneath it, desperate to escape.

My breath turned shallow and quick as I leaned in close to the protective glass. The Goddess appeared again, this time cradling a child, gazing down at its face. Spring bloomed around her in vibrant colors, radiating her joy.

Black splotches appeared on the glass, floating in my vision. I stepped back, fighting to steady my feet against the sudden spinning of the floor. A sharp pain sliced through my stomach.

I held on to the edge of the table in a desperate bid to stay upright. Warmth streaked down my face. I brought my own hand to my cheek.

Crying—why was I crying?

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