“In time,” Glencora said, turning her bulbous silver eyes onto Reyna. “The reason I joined you back here is because I need to tell you something. And I’m afraid that you aren’t going to like it one bit.”
Dread crept down Reyna’s spine. “What are you talking about?”
“When the Ruin was inside of you, did you have any visions?”
Reyna’s hands tightened around the soft pallet. “Visions.”
“Yes, visions. Of the past. Or of the future.”
Heart hammering, Reyna forced her breathing to steady. A dull roar built in her ears, an insistent reminder of everything she’d seen, everything she’d done, and everything she’d feared. The Ruin had crowed into her mind, filling every inch of her with its all-consuming magic, twisting her mind onto itself. And it had shown her things. Terrible, cruel things. Dreams or visions, she did not know. But some of it had been true.
And if Glencora knew about it…
“It showed you things, too,” Reyna whispered, horror churning in her gut. “When the Ruin pierced your eye, it got inside of you.”
“For awhile,” Glencora whispered beneath the steady crackle of the flames. The flickering light cast shadows onto her pale face, highlighting a hollowness to her cheeks that had never been there before. “But I couldn’t fight it off, not like you could. In the end, it showed me terrible things.”
“What did you see, Glencora?” A rope squeezed tight around her heart, almost suffocating her.
“Sisters. Two ice princesses. One of you is killing the other, but I couldn’t tell who.” She pressed her lips tightly together. “One of you is the Namhaid, Reyna. And I think we both probably know it’s you.”
Reyna’s breath hissed as she dragged a breath in through her flared nostrils. She had the urge to jump up, to shout, to scream, but she held it all back. Glencora did not know what she was saying.
“You know I would never hurt Eislyn,” she said in a fierce whisper. “I would die before I harmed a hair on her head. Hell, I would sacrifice my very soul to Ifrinn if it meant she would live.”
“Which is why I don’t think you’ll be the one to kill her.” Glencora’s silver eyes looked like pools of moonlight, reflecting Reyna’s shocked face. “You’re the Namhaid. She’s the Ghaisgeach.Shewill killyouto save the world.”
“You can’t mean this,” Reyna said, fighting the urge to shout. She’d thought she’d left all this behind. The insistent worry that she would somehow rip the world apart by the force of Unseelie’s brutal magic. She’d found the true Namhaid. Ulaid Molt. He was gone.
And yet Unseelie’s curses still lived on. He had not been vanquished.
Her heart battered her ribcage. Fear burned her veins. “This can’t be right, Glencora. The Ruin must have twisted your mind, the same way it tried to twist mine. It spent its entire existence believing an ice princess would become the Namhaid, but it was wrong. It was Ulaid Molt. I’m certain of it. Besides, Eislyn wouldn’t harm a fly. She hates conflict. If I you are right and I am the Namhaid, Eislyn would never kill me.”
She couldn’t kill me,Reyna thought grimly. As much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t pretend that she knew how to fight. Hell, Reyna doubted she’d ever held a sword, much less swung one. If someone was going to defeat the Namhaid, it would be a warrior…wouldn’t it?
“I can’t explain the hows and the whys,” Glencora whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. “All I know is that it happens. And I wanted to warn you. Even though you might be the fae who ends everything, you’re still my sister. Maybe we can find a way to stop it. Together.”
* * *
The scent of death swirled through the parched air. Reyna knelt on a mound of ash, the breeze tossing the black sand into her face. She scanned the horizon. Bodies piled on top of each other, unmoving. Her stomach flipped over. She’d seen this sight before. Time and time again in her dreams.
Slowly, she stood. Her silver hair hung in a single braid over her right shoulder where Wingallock usually perched. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello?” she called out. As far as she could tell, she was the only thing alive in this godforsaken land.
“Hello, Reyna Darragh,” a voice whispered into her ear. She whirled toward it, her heart hammering. But all she found was another pile of bodies surrounded by flies.
She’d heard that voice before.Unseelie.
“Go away,” she hissed, pulling a long gleaming sword from a sheath strapped to her back. Reyna had never seen this sword before. It buzzed with power beneath her fingertips. Silver etchings rippled across the sharp blade. The pommel was curved and long and tipped in ice. “You’re not welcome here.”
Unseelie laughed. “You will never win against me, Reyna Darragh. How can you fight a god you can’t even see?”
She growled. “I’ve fought you before. And I beat you. Your precious Namhaid is gone.”
A long pause followed. Reyna rolled back her shoulders and smiled.
And then he laughed, a deep eerie melodic sound that washed dread down her spine. “You believe Ulaid Molt was my Namhaid? You are very much mistaken.”
