Page 128 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
The charming quip coaxes a reluctant smile out of me as he flicks through a dozen possible entry points into a land I haven’t stepped foot in for eight decades.
Freya was never the most talented spellcaster. Or arrow carver. Or anything, really. She always valued showmanship over efficiency, and alliances and sexual favors over talent.
Now, I finally see the truth behind her well-crafted but crumbling mask. Everything she has depends on others’ willingness to let her keep it, and that’s no place to rule from.
Back at the ball, it was fun to pretend Seth was on my side, but now that he’d actually burn the world down for me, it’s even sweeter. Freya’s only son is the one taking me back home—against her will and her wards—all because she never contemplated the possibility that her own blood might turn on her.
I might have given Seth all the pieces of my broken heart.
But I still feel like a criminal and a goddess wrapped in one, that he’d be the one taking me home.
Revenge is sweeter for the wait.
“Freya’s archers are doing a very poor job in the new world. My mortal goddaughter fell in love after a split-arrowhead hit her, and she has no idea she’s about to marry a man who won’t love her for more than a couple of years,” I say, revealing a piece of the exiled life I never thought I’d share with any man.
Seth purses his lips to the side, still searching for a mirror that suits him. “Sucks for her.”
“I used to think it was none of my business, but maybe I should tell her. Percy would say—” I stop abruptly, tears flooding my eyes.
Seth finally lands on the desired entry point. “I’m so sorry for your loss, my darling.”
The mirror spits us out into a place I recognize. The distant memory of my time here screeches my heart to a halt. Humidity assaults my senses. It's still winter on the Continent, but it’s always warm in Spring, the tropical air seeping into my pores.
“We’re already in the inner cloister of the castle. Near Eros’ forest,” I gasp.
“Yes,” Seth says proudly.
When he told me he could access any mirror, I didn’t have time to contemplate that we'd come out so close to our destination. The Spring Castle is the only way through to the sacred forest from the south. Our northern borders are guarded by a beautiful but deadly jungle that stretches for miles, all the way to the border of the Summerlands.
My hands shake as I pull off my black boots and socks. I dig my bare feet into the grass, then spread my toes and let the earth spill between them, moaning under my breath.
The ground hums beneath my feet, warm and alive—like a welcome home. A deep vibration rocks the soles of my feet. Ibrush off tendrils of lingering mist from my black dress, the collared neckline, and the sleeves that stop at mid-arm. The single row of gold buttons down the front shines under the moonlight.
Up above, the two Amouran rivers carve a heart-shaped groove through the land—one flowing through a natural tunnel beneath, the other gliding overhead, their waters close but not mixing yet.
After crossing paths, they spiral around the most sacred ground in the Secret Spring: the Rond-de-l’Âme, a small island dominated by our Hawthorn. Its long, trailing branches stretch beyond the circle, brushing the land across the rivers.
At the point where the twin rivers finally meet, they merge into a single, roaring waterfall that spills over the edge of a three-hundred-foot rift. We stand at the bottom, where the water crashes into a wide lake near the castle.
The moon is enormous above, bathing the scenery in soft, silver rays.
“We’ll have to fly up there,” Seth declares.
“I know. I’m ready.”
A sigh whistles out of my lungs as I summon my wings, spreading them wide on each side.
It’s such a relief to have them again, yet it hurts to fly without Percy by my side.
Seth sucks in air. “Wow, you look like a dark, avenging angel, witch.”
“You must say that to all the girls,” I joke.
We fly up to the Rond-de-l’Âme, landing on the only part of the island not shadowed by the Hawthorn. I watch the sky closely for signs of red, and my stomach cramps as a small cluster of burgundy clouds amass overhead.
“Here goes.”
Seth’s lips curl downward. “I thought they were gone for good. Honestly.”
