Page 167 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Just evil.
Ancient.
His aura tries to suffocate me as he takes my jaw, tilting me to inspect my face. My insides revolt at his touch. It’s cold and clammy, and his magic feels like a scrape—not an itch.
“I thought you said she was ugly,” he muses to someone at the side.
Footsteps approach. Absynthe. Tobacco. A raspy drawl. “She was.”
Oberon lets go of me as Emrys arrives at his side. His coppery eyes lock with mine. A jolt rips through my heart.One will betray me. One will try to kill me.Well, at least we can cross that first one off the list. Oberon circles me, inspecting me like an offering for sale. I twist, trying to keep my eyes on him but also Emrys. Which villain is more dangerous?
Fighting tears, I whisper, “What are you doing here, Emrys?”
“I would ask you the same, little moth.”
“He’s finally come to his senses,” Oberon drawls as if it’s obvious. “He’s ready to be rid of queens, once and for all. But what I want to know is, how did you get in here unnoticed?”
My eyes widen. They didn’t see Styx? He must haveflickeredin and out too fast. My palm burns suddenly. I hiss and glancedown, opening my fist to see. The circular welt is deepening to a dusky color. I feel compelled to move. What does this mean? Are the trials over?
“What is this?” Oberon’s hand snakes out and wraps around my wrist. He lifts my palm upward, then shows it to Titania. “Darling, did you know they started your trials without you?”
She makes some kind of incomprehensible sound.
“How charming,” he continues, a teasing lilt to his voice. “The distraction you crafted works so well. They don’t even care you’re not there.” He flicks the resonance stone on my chest and lowers it so his face is captured. “Hello, Good People of Avorlorna.”
I step away from him and stumble up a step. I look more closely at Titania and see something more disturbing than her disheveled appearance—bruise marks around her neck. Her visage shimmers. This is her dream form, her specter.
“I thought you were slumbering,” I say.
Her eyes widen. She tries to respond, but her lips are sewn shut—with flesh-colored vines. They crawl like maggots in and out of her flesh. Bile rises in my throat.
“Oh, she is,” Oberon coos, somewhere below me. “As she has every winter for the past five years.”
“I don’t understand.”
I take another step up, away from him. He doesn’t seem to care. He’s not even bothered that I still have my sword. He just smirks.
“You don’t truly think I would simply pause war because she’s sleeping? She stole my legacy.” He gestures at Emrys, then back at her. “That tiara is the cost of her Gentle Interlude . . . unless, of course, she returns what is rightfully mine.”
Pity rolls through me. Titania might be cruel. She might have lied horribly to her people about the reason they died in droves. But she’s suffering to give her people a few months of peace.
Movement to the side of the dais catches my eye. Alfie’s copper hair. A glint of steel. That’s not a look of rescue on his face. It’s murder. If he kills her here, she’s dead in her bed at the palace. Any hope of reclaiming my magic evaporates. Fox’s face flashes in my mind.
Do I kill her . . . or save her?
Alfie’s green eyes meet mine, then dart to Titania, weighing his chances of reaching her before me. He lunges, breaking free from his hiding place. I intercept Alfie mid-leap, my body slamming into his. We tumble across the dais in a tangle of limbs and crash into Titania’s throne. Chaos erupts in the throne room—shouts, the scraping of talons, swords, the thunderous footsteps of guards—Oberon’s bellow.
“What are you doing?” Alfie snarls, his face contorted with rage as we wrestle. We clash with Titania’s throne again. He turns his dagger on me, pointing the tip to my throat. My lower back hits the throne’s arm, and I’m forced to bow backward to avoid being cut. Titania’s scream is muffled. She’s trying to tell me something. I grab Alfie’s wrists and hold him off, but he’s strong. He snarls in my face, “You should have killed me. Now I’m going to kill you.”
A force rips him off me, and he is tossed to the side. I have a moment to register Emrys’s panicked and murderous face, and then Titania screeches something muffled. I pivot to find her thrashing on the throne, fingers scrabbling at the jeweled band on her head. But she can’t reach them. It’s like an invisible string keeps yanking her hands back. Her eyes hold a silent plea.
Alfie rises behind her, thinking the same thing I do.That tiara is the cost of her Gentle Interlude.
If we remove it, she wakes. This is all over. One of us wins.
Chapter 69
Titania
