Page 90 of Blood of the Fairest

Well, I'm far too helplessly drawn to her to leave her be. Still, at least I'll know.

I exhale again, bizarrely nervous. It's rare that words don't spring to my tongue with ease.

"Verena. There's something I should tell you."

She doesn't lift her head from the edge of the pool where her neck reclines, simply soaking in the quiet of this private cavern. She seems to be waiting for me to get to it, so I do.

"I leave the mirror realm during full moons," I say quickly. "At least, I used to, before Reinhilde. But in all the time I wandered before she imprisoned me, I only ever sought knowledge in new books in the hope of finding something that could free me. I never met anyone of real note and certainly never experienced anything like this…harrowing attraction. About that third promise I want from you…on the next full moon, I thought we might⁠—"

I cut off and look at my hands, dismayed at how mysteriously damp they feel.

Is this…sweat?

Matron, I've never sweated before. If this is what being tongue-tied is like, it's horrid.

"I-I only mean that I want to experience more. Much more. With you, I mean—obviously. But only if you want me in return. I can't even begin to describe how I've started to crave you and—" I fumble again, grimacing at how clumsily the words are coming out. "Damn. I said crave again. Just please get the teasing about that out of the way quickly, so we can get back to…"

I trail off, my nervous attention settling on the way Verena still hasn't moved.

Her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing, but her eyes are shut. Beads of moisture have gathered on her too-pale forehead.

I thought it was just condensation from the hot water, but now I tense, recalling just how recklessly she's been fighting the thirst.

"Verena. Can you hear me?"

She's unresponsive.

"Verena."

When I bang hard on the glass, wishing it would shatter into a thousand pieces and let me go to her, she stirs ever so slightly.

But she's weak, her breathing growing more ragged.

Shit.

At once, I'm racing through the mirror realm, already calling Wulf's name though I know he can't hear me.

I come to a screeching halt when I see the unmistakable frame of the Huntsman in fresh leathers. He's passing the reflection of a door handle somewhere near the chapel, clearly on his way back to the queen's chambers.

I shout his name from the next stained glass window, startling him enough that he curses in Hjemic.

"Eris? What⁠—"

"Verena has succumbed to fever from lack of drinking blood. Go into the secret passage at once and—fucking Crones," I realize, horror overtaking me. "You can't get in there."

If the Huntsman heard my last words, he ignores them completely as he breaks into a run toward the queen's quarters, taking stone steps three at a time.

I follow through the reflections, but already, I feel as though something inside me is splintering.

I've only seen the real queen fall ill with bloodlust a few times. She was so content feeding from her Favored as much as needed that it only happened in rare instances—but when it did, Reinhilde collapsed, despondent except for sudden bouts of violent mania. She would lose her mind to bloodlust, screaming and thrashing before falling silent, over and over.

Thanks to the many intricate enchantments she laid on her Favored, one of her men always found her quickly, compelled by magic to revive her with blood at once.

But Verena is alone. She's somewhere Wulf can't go. I have no idea how long she'll keep breathing, in that unconscious state.

I'm going to lose her.

Not to another world as I dreaded, but to Death himself.