The room is covered in stone. A small window, blocked by iron bars, looks out over the mountains disturbingly high in the air. Large, pointed rocks jut up from the blanket of snow in a threatening collection of jagged teeth.
Another, smaller window is affixed to the door. I shuffle to it, every movement jostling the wound in my stomach. Hot blood trickles along the flat plane of my belly. I lean against the window, finding several guards stationed in the hall outside, their backs turned to me.
Okay, so I’m not in just any room. I’m in a cell. High up in what I’m assuming is the Banfolk Mountains.
I leave the windowed door and slide down the stone wall. My vision blurs. I close my eyes and let salty tears fall. They mix with the gash on my cheek, each sting reminding me that I’m alive. That I’m here. That there is still so much to fight for.
Cally. Holly. Ivan. Etta.
My kingdom.
Asmo.
I repeat the names, my wounds throbbing and my cheek burning, until the light from the window disappears and the cell grows dark.
Cally. Holly. Ivan. Etta.
My kingdom.
I cry myself to sleep, Asmo’s name on my lips.
Apregnant woman leaned over a dusty wooden dining table, hands gripping the sides with such force that her knuckles flashed white.
“This is all I could find,” another woman said, entering the room with two dingy towels in her hands. “Careful, or you’ll break the table.”
“Shut up, Willa,” the pregnant woman hissed through gritted teeth.
The other woman—Willa—chuckled, brushing black, wavy hair behind pointed Fae ears. “Do you want to try laying down?”
The pregnant woman took a deep breath, knuckles still white as bone. “No, the bed is filthy.”
“We should have mailed ahead. ‘Dearest Unknowing Citizen of the Deer Court, please ensure you have fresh towels prepared for Her Royal Fae Princess,’” Willa said in a haughty tone, coaxing a ghost of a smile from the other woman. “Orla, you really should lie down. The contractions are coming too close together. What if you pop and the baby goes flying?”
“Babies,” Orla corrected her. “The oracle said two girls.”
“Whatever she said. You’re going to kill them if they fly out of you and land straight on the floor.”
BANG!
Orla spun toward the sound. “What was that? Is it her?” she managed to ask before she bit down on a groan, a contraction working its way through her.
Willa peered out the window. “No, but we have to get these babies out,” she whispered.
Orla, eyes shut tight as the pain of the contraction ebbed, nodded tightly.
Willa led her into the abandoned home’s only bedroom. She snatched the dusty quilt from the bed and flipped it over, laying it on the ground. She helped Orla settle onto the blanket and then sat between her and the wall, supportingOrla’s back.
“I can’t believe we didn’t make it to Silas before my water broke,” Orla muttered.
Willa rubbed her sister’s arms. “I know. At least Levana gave us enough warning to get you out.”
“Could have given us a little more time,” Orla snorted with a glance toward her belly. “You have to keep them from her, okay?” Sweat was beginning to line her forehead, her white hair clinging to her clammy skin. “Promise me,” she begged.
“I will,” Willa whispered. “I promise.”
“I mean it. You heard what the oracle predicted,” Orla said. “You can’t let Cora—” She gasped in pain, belly rolling with the contraction.
Willa reached for her sister’s hand and grasped it. “I know. It’s my fault we’re in this mess. I’ll protect them with my life. I mean it.”
