The queen has not left her chambers in nearly a week, her guilt and sorrow so potent, they poured into the hallway beyond. Nothing we’ve tried succeeded in drawing her out of it, and now, I understand why.
That shadow—whatever it’s made of—is using her despair, her self-hatred, to bind her to it.
“Fancy a swim, did you?” Tiernan asks with an innocent tilt of his head, eliciting a frustrated screech from Willa.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters mutinously, spitting hair out of her mouth. She rounds on Adira. “Orthink about it.”
Adira raises her palms in a show of peace, her stormy gaze indecipherable as it flickers from Willa to the hovering shadow. But it is amusement, not concern, playing at the corner of Addy’s lips, the beginning of a familiar smile—mischievous, like a cat toying with its food.
The Princess of the Wild has heard something in Willa’s mind that’s piqued her interest.
Willa shifts uncomfortably. “How…how are the preparations for the festival coming?”
“Well, if you don’t care about the bloody shape of the napkins, they’re coming along just fine,” Tiernan mumbles under his breath.
Adira’s cheshire grin is unnerving, as is the way those storm gray eyes have begun to churn. “The kingdom will be elated when they hear.”
Willa’s gaze snaps to Adira, narrowing sharply. “When they hearwhat?”
Her mouth pops on the last word, and though her voice is low and dangerous, Adira’s smile widens. “When they hear you’re up and about, of course. Everyone was terribly worried about you.” She cocks her head. “What else could I possibly mean?”
Willa presses her lips into a thin line, her teeth working at her cheek, her skin flushing. Adira giggles in delight, her eyes sparkling with delight as they flash to mine. It’s been so long since she looked at me with anything but agonized guilt, for a moment, I forget all about Willa’s emotions and for once, only feel my own.
“I—” Willa stumbles over her words, before blowing a breath through her teeth. “I figured it would be better if I disappeared for a while.”
The queen’s misery snags my attention away from attempting to sort through the sudden wave of feeling churning in my chest. I choose not to dwell on how familiar I am with the feelings of others, while my own remain distant and foreign, a surprise rush I have no idea what to do with.
“Willa, no one blames you for what happened,” Tiernan says, his gaze soft on the queen.
“Well, they should,” Willa snaps. Her shadow jerks behind her. “I didn’t save the children. I only led the island from one slow death to another.” She gestures to the vines around us, grief etched into the lines of her. “How will they bloom when we have no dreams to feed them?”
“The mainland is still dreaming,” I remind her. “And I’m certain with time and some practice, you will figure out how to recover what’s been lost.”
Willa’s mouth twists, and for a moment, she looks so troubled that my magic unravels in my chest. Warm tendrils reach to wrap around her like a blanket, but shock stops them a few inches from her skin.
My eyes widen in sudden understanding of Adira’s amusement.
“What?” Willa demands. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I—” I cut myself off with a shake of my head. I’ve always had trouble translating the emotions I feel into something tangible enough to be spoken aloud—both other’s and my own—for each is deeply nuanced. It is colors in my eyes and flavors along my tongue and textures against my skin, and though they follow similar enough patterns to be distinguished, none are exactly the same.
Love, for instance. Everyone thinks it’s red, but they’re wrong.
Willa’s has always been a deep purple—the fiery crimson of lust and the dark blues of calm. Of home. It tastes sharp like fear, and as it washes from her, I feel alternating waves of heat and ice.
Not just any ice—but the ice of death.
She feels like this when she thinks of Niko. Since she exiled him to the mainland, it is always muted, like she keeps it caged behind her ribs and buried beneath her anger. But today, it pours from her so thickly, I nearly choke on the scent of sandalwood.
Adira nods at me with another giggle, clapping her hands. Tiernan glances between us uncertainly, his brow crinkled in confusion.
Willa stares back, her face a picture of pure stone. “I swear to god, Sam,” she sighs. “If you ask meonequestion, I’m going to lock myself in my room and never come out.”
“Like a temper tantrum?”
“Exactly like a temper tantrum,” she seethes.
“No questions then.” I raise my hands in surrender, a small smile tugging at my mouth.
