CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Luna led her snow-white mare out of the barn and into the clearing, the reins gripped in her fist. The sky was an overcast slate, the air thick and humid. Ahead of her, Rose swatted at a cloud of black flies. It dispersed, only to re-collect around Luna’s face.

She waved her hand irately—but then froze, feet dragging to a halt.

The low, incessant drone of buzzing black flies. Three children, sprawled in the late summer sunshine, sweating and eating fresh berries, the juices dribbling down their wrists and staining their skin pink and purple.

“Luna, are you all right?” Asterin asked from behind her. Lux nickered impatiently.

Luna blinked away the image. “Oh, sorry.” She hurried to catch up to Rose, shaking her head to herself. Where had that memory come from? One of those children was you, her mind told her. But she didn’t remember the other two children. Who were they?

“With her guard down, it’ll be that much easier to finish Garringsford,” Asterin said to the others. Quinlan trailed beside her and Harry waited for them down the cobbled path beneath the branched archway. Orion came out of the barn last, latching the door shut behind Buttercup. “Harry is supposed to bring my heart to Garringsford. She told him to meet her at the palace at eight in the evening on Fairfest Eve, three days from now.”

“You know we can’t just kill the General of Axaria,” Eadric said. His brow hadn’t smoothed since Asterin had overruled him about Harry. Luna knew he would never disobey the princess, but it didn’t mean he was happy about the decision.

Asterin nodded. “We have to unveil her in front of as many people as possible. And the Fairfest Ball will be the perfect opportunity to do that. Royals and nobles from all the kingdoms will be attending. To expose Garringsford using shadow magic before all of them would guarantee her execution without condemning ourselves.”

Luna frowned as she walked. “But how do we get in? If Garringsford thinks you’re dead, then you can’t go as yourself. We’ll need fake invitations—”

Rose glanced over her shoulder at Luna with a grin. “Who needs a fake invitation when you’re the Queen of Eradore?”

Orion huffed a laugh. “Convenient.”

“And Rose’s invitation permits her three escorts,” Quinlan said, one hand stroking the nose of his palomino mare. “So Asterin, Orion, and I will accompany her into the ball. We’ll need to find disguises, of course, and damned good ones if we don’t want to risk getting recognized—”

Luna suddenly dropped her horse’s reins and squeezed her eyes shut, slamming her palms into her temples as color exploded behind her lids.

A village, an inn—and a plump, boisterous woman with rosy cheeks who she called Maman. Two other children—Maman’s children—brother and sister. Her best friends.

The two children, Luna realized.

“Nathan and Clara,” she said aloud.

“Luna?” Asterin said, but Luna could barely hear over the roar in her ears, her world knocked askew by the whirlwind of memories. She snatched up as many as she could, desperate and lost, and tried to piece together the mystery that had become her life.

A wailing girl with hair like silver-blond gossamer chasing after a lanky boy, a bright blue ribbon the same shade as her eyes clutched in his grubby fist. “Poor, pretty little moonflower, her pretty little ribbon stolen,” Nathan sang, a devious grin lighting his face.

A second girl sharing Nathan’s close-set eyes and freckles lunged out of nowhere. The two tumbled to the ground, brawling in the dust, rolling and growling and snapping at each other like feral dogs. Clara, clothes streaked with dirt, emerged victorious, and handed the ribbon back to its rightful owner, who stopped her wailing for a smile of thanks.

The three of them, scurrying upstairs to a bland attic room with dingy gray walls after a hard day of chores and errands, playing cards and telling stories late into the night. Falling asleep on the floor even when there were three perfectly good beds right beside them, just so they could be close enough to touch, backs pressed to stomachs, clutching one another’s hands like lifelines.

The three of them, sitting in a meadow of wildflowers. Nathan and Clara ogling up at the sky while the third child with the gossamer hair—Luna—summoned illusion after illusion, her magic always waiting at her fingertips, creating entire worlds for all of them to dream and play in together.

The memories fast-forwarded as if disturbed by a great gust of wind, and everything went dark. The next thing she saw was Asterin’s face, smiling and young.

“Mother said that you’re to be my lady-in-waiting, but I think we should be friends first,” said the young princess.

Luna remembered nodding shyly, nervous because she had never had a friend before. Or at least, that was what she had believed at the time …

“Luna!”

Luna’s eyes flew open at the shout, her chest heaving. She found herself on her knees on the path, the edges of the stones digging through her riding breeches. Asterin’s hands clamped Luna’s shoulders. The others crowded around them with mirrored expressions of worry.

“I—I saw my childhood,” Luna gasped. “But I can’t remember how I ended up at the palace. I forgot everything.” She stared at her hands. “I forgot about my magic.”

“What do you mean?” Asterin asked, helping her onto her feet.

“My magic,” Luna repeated. Her appearance, her powers. “Priscilla … she isn’t your mother, Asterin, she’s mine. And since I’m her daughter, I must have inherited her illusion affinity, even though it was suppressed along with my memories.”

“Wait,” Rose said, and bent down. She picked up a smooth pebble from the ground, muttering beneath her breath. Slowly, affinity stone in hand, she carved a crude sigil into its surface and held it out. Luna recognized the sigil as Lord Pavon’s—God of Illusion. “This won’t work as well as a proper affinity stone, but …”

Luna rolled the pebble between her fingers, recalling the hours she had spent in the wildflower meadow with Clara and Nathan. A luminescent drop of light slid from her fingertip like morning dew at her command, filling her with a euphoric feeling she hadn’t experienced for many cold, dark years. The drop transformed as Luna spread her fingers, winding outward in gossamer threads. As her friends looked on, just as Clara and Nathan once had, she wove a brilliant, gleaming illusion in the air. A peacock, its tail feathers shining brighter than a thousand dazzling jewels. It moved and bent at her will, bearing down upon them with its hooked beak before soaring upward, feathers fanning out, the fading daylight casting a ripple of iridescence over them. With her cheeks flushed with heat, Luna watched, transfixed, as the peacock stretched its magnificent neck and let out a terrific screech, so real that her friends gasped aloud.

She—she had created this thing of beauty. This gift, this power—it was hers.

Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill over. This is what she had missed, all these years. Her magic, her memories. Robbed.

The illusion dissolved as her fingers curled around the rock. When she opened her fist, only sand remained, the rock crumbling down to nothing. Her magic had overwhelmed its capacities.

“Did you say that you needed disguises?” Luna asked quietly, looking up at her friends, shocked into speechlessness. Only Harry didn’t seem surprised, just impressed.

“Yes,” Quinlan said, eyes still wide. “That would be very helpful.”

“If I may,” interjected Harry. “I could use your help too, Luna. But it will be dangerous.”

Luna’s stomach twisted nervously. No, she thought to herself. You can do this. She had done too much sitting around, too much waiting.

And she decided that she was done waiting.

So she smiled and asked, “What do you need me to do?”