Reyna took a step back, shaking her head. Alarm slammed her heart against her ribs. “You’re lying.”
Suddenly, the ground vanished beneath her feet. Reyna’s cloak whipped around her head as she fell through an endless pit of black. A scream lodged in her throat. Tears streaming from her eyes, she gripped sword tighter and willed herself to wake.
She knew this was a dream. She’d seen these images enough to know what was real and what wasn’t, despite Unseelie’s determination to trick her mind.
None of this was real. Soon, she would wake up on her pallet in the woods. And she could forget every single moment of this.
Her feet slammed into stone. She crumpled onto her knees, her teeth knocking together. The pain was electric. It radiated throughout her body, even though nothing about it was real. She still felt it all the same.
Fields of fire stretched out before her. Flames licked the skies as smoke filled her lungs. She threw a hand over her mouth, coughing. Her eyes burned. Even her teeth hurt.
“Welcome to the Fire Court, Reyna Darragh,” Unseelie whispered.
A flicker of fear raced down her spine. “The Fire Court no longer exists.”
“The kingdom is gone, but the lands live on in perpetual flames. Look around and see, Reyna Darragh.”
Reyna could not help herself. She lifted her eyes and stared, taking in the blazing fields. Mountains rose in the distance. Their peaks poked through the fires, spearing the smoke-filled skies with silver. She blinked up at it, unease swirling like poison through her veins.
“How do the mountains have snow?” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. But Unseelie heard all the same.
“Because ice will bring upon the destruction of this world.”
* * *
Reyna awoke with a start. Sweat drenched her skin, and her heart thrummed a hectic beat. Her mother’s hoarfrost cloak clung tightly to her body, dragging her down into the ground, suffocating her. She threw it off and jumped to her feet, pacing past where her friends slept soundly through the night. A blast of humid wind shot through the clearing, blowing her damp hair away from her clammy face.
She pressed a shaky hand to her heart. It beat so wildly that she swore it might thump its way right through her bones and flesh. What the hell had that been all about? Reyna hadn’t had a dream about the Cleaving of the World since Lorcan had killed Ulaid Molt. At the time, she hadn’t questioned it. Molt had been the Namhaid. And now he was gone.
But now the dreams had returned, more horrible than before. Wingallock soared down from the branches above, settling on her shoulder.
She paced the woods, taking comfort in Wingallock’s steadying presence. There was only one explanation for this. Glencora’s words had gotten to her. They had kicked up old fears and tossed them around in her mind until she couldn’t help but dream of them.
She’d fitfully fallen to sleep worrying about it. So, of course those worries would follow her into her dreams. It made perfect sense.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she whispered, hoping at least her owl believed her, even if she didn’t truly believe herself. “The Namhaid is dead.”
A crack sounded from the forest. Reyna spun on her feet, her heart in her throat. She scanned the trees for movement as her familiar flew off to scout ahead. A flash of white flared to her left. Another flash of red loomed from her right. The scent of iron drifted toward her, and Wingallock’s agitated hoot echoed from somewhere nearby. A warning.
Some wood fae had found them. Or shadow fae. It didn’t matter which. Because they were cursed. Reyna leapt toward the fire and shook Thane’s shoulder. He was on his feet in an instant, eyes wide.
“We’ve been found,” Reyna hissed, whipping her ice glass dagger from her belt. “Cursed fae are here. And I think there are a lot of them.”
19
Eislyn
When Eislyn stepped through the portal that led into Inishfall, her senses were assaulted by colors, sounds, and scents. Heat radiated across her bare arms as she gazed at the brilliant leaves drooping from the heavy moisture. Birds twinkled with songs, and the rush of a nearby waterfall filled the air. The heady scent of water lilies, orchids, and passion flowers swirled with an intoxicating magic that almost knocked Eislyn to the ground.
“Welcome to Inishfall,” Lir said grimly. “Be on guard. This island has teeth.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, dropping back her head to gaze up at the cloudless sky. The blue of it was more brilliant than anything she’d ever seen back home. Warriors whispered out of the pool of water that had led them through the portal. They heaved themselves up onto the shore, grumbling.
“The beauty hides the darkness,” Lir murmured. “There is great power here, both dark and light. You must be careful of it.”
“It’s the prisoners I’m more worried about,” Barbin said, wiping the water from his face. “Some of the worst creatures in our world’s history have ended up here. They might keep to themselves, but…”
Eislyn’s heart thumped. “Surely they wouldn’t bother a band of Fomorians.”
