Page 98 of Fae Crown

As I careened across the blessedly open space, cleared of furniture for the Nuptialis Probatio, the light faded some while the clinking of weapons and the pounding of footsteps drew closer.

“Kill them!” rang out in the queen’s voice. “If you fail me, you’ll pay the price.”

I pushed harder. But so, it sounded, did those pursuing us.

Then a grumbled, “Must I do everything myself?” from the queen that made me nauseated for a whole new reason.

The queen had grown fast, unnaturally so. If she pursued us, that would be it. All she’d have to do was get in range and snap her fingers at me. I’d have no choice but to stand by and watch while she did whatever she wanted to Larissa and me.

That she hadn’t bespelled us yet told me that maybe, just maybe, the fortune of dragons was on our side. Perhaps the dragons themselves were rooting for us, if for nothing else than my promise to save them.

“Her Majesty,” yelled a loud, masculine voice I didn’t place. “An urgent message from Lord Ivar.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the queen snarled from behind us. Fromway too close. “Braque!” she bellowed. “With me. Guards, capture them. I changed my mind. I want them alive.”

To torture us, no doubt.

Ivar’s message would be about my mate. But I didn’t slow before swinging open the painting from the wall. It opened easily, as it had when I’d first tried the entrance after learning the location of the Nuptialis Probatio. I hit my shoulder roughly against the rugged doorjamb, but squeezed Larissa and me through, set her down hastily, left her leaning against the tunnel wall. My vision was flashing now—not fucking helpful. I dragged my hands along the back of the door, searchingfor the latch. I scraped my knuckles, drawing more blood—“Fuck!”

My sister squeezed in next to me. Pulled on the latch that would be easy for her to spot. The door closed with a bang.

She grunted. “I can’t lock it. It’s stuck.”

I shoved my hands against hers, and she understood, drawing my fingers to the latch.

I dragged it into place the very moment someone yanked on the painting from the other side.

The shouts and grunts of guards were loud as they struggled to open the door.

It jerked against its hinges. The wall surrounding it shook.

My heart hammered as my surroundings continued to swirl. I might puke.

But my sister, my gentle, ethereal sister who rarely lost her calm, simply sidestepped me, pressed both hands and her forehead to the door. Braced her legs.

The guards knocked into the door so hard that she bounced off it.

“Lari,” I exclaimed. “Come. We’ve gotta go.”

“Shhhh.” She leaned against the door again.

With my hand reaching for her, the door itself disappeared. It became solid wall.

My vision cleared enough to register her grim smile. “It won’t hold them for long. But it’ll help.”

I gaped at her. The nausea receded along with the fear that this would be the day I’d have to watch my baby sister die in my arms.

“When’d you learn to do that?” I asked as the guards’ protests muted but continued.

“Did you think I sit on my hands all day while you’re away from the estate? Come on, Rush. You know me better than that.”

Apparently, I really didn’t.

“I’m not your baby sister anymore.”

I didn’t think I fully registered that either.

She chortled darkly, snatched a pair of tablecloths from a stack of supplies stored for the queen’s endless litany of fancy events, and stalked deeper into the tunnel. She wound one of the tablecloths around her waist, tying it off like a skirt. “I hope you know where we’re going…”

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