“We’re lost,” I say, hacking at a thorny tangle of vines with my old sword. It shears away from the wall of the labyrinth, but other vines hiss at me and take its place, knotting the wall into an even tighter array of greenery.
Behind us, the howls of rampaging Unseelie echo through the labyrinth. Blaedwyn unleashed her host upon us, and I can hear them growing ever closer. There’s no way we can survive an entire war host, though with the walls of the maze so close, they can only come at us two abreast.
And while I have the Sword of Mourning sheathed at my hip, I don’t dare use it.
“Eris.” Thalia turns to her with a pleading look in her eyes.
“No.” The word is hard, final.
“What other options do we have?” Thalia snaps. “If the Unseelie face you in your other form, they’ll scatter like scavengers.”
“It’s not the Unseelie who have to worry,” Eris bites out.
There’s a whole lot of undercurrent going on in this conversation. Maybe it has something to do with that Devourer comment. “What are you both talking about?”
Eris looks at me coldly. “I have something inside me, something that can terrorize the entire Unseelie host and send them fleeing. But it comes at a cost. The last time I let myself channel my other half, I slaughtered an entire battlefield.”
I don’t see the problem with that. “A few hundred less Unseelie in the world isn’t going to be a major problem.”
“An entire battlefield,” she repeats. “Enemy and ally alike. Friend and foe.” For a moment, horror darkens her eyes, as if she’s seeing it all over again. “I destroyed everyone who followed me onto that battlefield and when I walked out, I was the only thing living. I barely manage to cage it after all the glut of blood. I don’t know if I can come back to myself again. It’s been over a hundred years. Every day it pushes at the cage, I can feel it growing hungrier. There’s no point asking me to unleash my dark side, because if I do, then I’m going to be the only thing left alive in this entire kingdom. And even then, I might not be me.”
“They called her the Eater of Souls,” Thalia whispers.
The Devourer.
My mind suddenly trips over a long-forgotten memory. One of our tutors was obsessed with history, and I vaguely recall hearing of a battlefield where only one survivor walked away. Nevernight, they call it now, and even the ground lies fallow, as if the glut of blood drowned every blade of grass that stood there.
Thalia hesitates. “Thiago—”
“Is at half strength,” Eris replies calmly, “and we both know it. He’s no match for me, not right now. He’s also still trapped in the dungeon.”
“And I’m useless,” Thalia says bitterly, “after that bitch stole my voice.”
I make a small circular gesture in the air. “Let’s pretend you haven’t told me all of these stories before. Blaedwyn said a witch stole your voice. What does that even mean?”
“Long story,” Thalia replies, “and not enough time to tell it. If we get out of this, you and I shall raid Thiago’s wine cellars and dwell on the bad old times.”
“Use the sword,” Eris says. “They won’t hunt us if you stand against them with that”—she nods uneasily toward my hip—“in your hand.”
I can’t explain the shiver of fear I felt when that mysterious woman put the sword in my hand in that vision. “It drove Blaedwyn mad. I think it best if I don’t touch it.”
A troll suddenly bellows behind us, and then it’s lumbering around the corner of the maze. It lifts its head and howls, as if to alert the host.
“Erlking’s hairy balls.”
We are dead.
Eris shoves me behind her and turns to leap forward, her sword flashing in the dim light. I grab the hilt of my own sword, but a hand grabs my wrist.
“No!” Thalia says. “She can handle it. We’ll just get in her way.”
It’s a struggle to stay out of the fight, but it soon becomes clear she’s right. Eris isn’t just fighting the troll, she’s destroying him. She moves like a flash of lightning, ducking and weaving the massive swings of its ironbound club before sliding to her knees beneath a dangerous swing and slashing her blade through the tendon behind its ankle.
The troll bellows in pain and smashes into the thorny wall of the labyrinth, crushing it. An opening suddenly appears, just as its friends come around the corner.
“This way!” I yell, hauling Thalia through the opening.
A pair of startled hobgoblins glance our way, but I sweep their axes aside. The clang of steel echoes behind me, and I know Eris is covering our backs.
A horn suddenly cuts through the air, and everything goes quiet. One second the maze is full of snarls and angry voices, and the next you could hear a mouse creeping.
“That’s very creepy,” I mutter.
The labyrinth quivers, leaves rustling and thorny vines lashing angrily as they subside. Ravens take flight, cawing wildly. Even the wind seems to conspire against us, hissing through the leaves as if it’s suddenly part of the hunt.
We all stare in the direction of the horn, and I can hear my heartbeat racing in my ears.
“What do you think that means?” Thalia asks.
“Death to all who enter here?” It’s a guess, but I could be wrong.
“It’s Blaedwyn’s horn,” Eris said, then curses under her breath. She glances about wildly, but there’s seemingly no escape. “If she’s entered the maze, then we’re done for. Unless you use the sword.”
“How many times do I have to say no?”
We scramble through the lashing maze, thorny whips scourging the skin from my arms and face. Around the next corner, we find ourselves in a dead end and slide to a halt.
Behind us, the horn rings again, and this time a cheer goes up.
“So, Eris has the power to destroy all of our enemies, but can’t let herself do that,” I gasp, “and you could sing them into submission if you still had your powers. But you don’t.”
And I’m about as useful as a snowball in the wake of a volcano.
Thiago and Finn are locked up.
A raging queen is on our trail, along with a pack of bloodthirsty Unseelie, and we have no way of fending her off—
A horrible thought occurs to me.
We have no means to defeat Blaedwyn.
“I have an idea.” The words just blurt out of me. “It’s a horrible idea, and I need the two of you to convince me not to do it.”
“What?” Thalia asks.
“If I tell you, then you have to talk me out of it,” I yell as we skid into a thorny corner of the maze.
“No promises!” Thalia yells. “You weren’t locked in a cage! I’ll let you do anything.”
I tell them.
Thalia’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “You think he’s a solution?”
“You said anything,” I point out.
“Thiago will kill you. Blaedwyn will kill you. It’s a terrible idea!” Thalia says.
It’s Eris who surprises me though. A horrible, horrible smile crosses her mouth. “And it just might work.”
Sprinting through the maze, I lead the chase while Thalia and Eris slip away to safety. I’m the one Blaedwyn wants, after all. If she gets her hands on me, she has both the Queen of Thorns and the Prince of Evernight by the throat.
I reach out with my senses, trying to grasp that elusive whisper of power I’ve been able to feel ever since we arrived. The Hallow pulses somewhere ahead of me.
Power calls to me.
It quivers deep beneath the earth, the ley line lying dormant like some enormous torrent of magic that wants to be used. I can feel where it pushes up toward the surface, the power of the ley line channeled through the Hallow.
That’s where I need to go.
The only thing stopping me is the maze.
I turn a corner, intent upon the Hallow, and realize the hair on the back of my spine has risen. Wrong way. I know it as instinctively as I can sense the air on my skin.
Bolting back the other way, I feel the pull of the Hallow. It wants me to find it. It wants me to give myself over to the rush of power. Racing through dozens of narrowing passages, I finally leap through a hole in the hedge and find myself in a grassy field.
Skidding down the slope, I bolt between a pair of the enormous lintel stones just as lightning lashes the horizon.
This is the worst idea I’ve ever had, but if it works…. It might just be the only way to escape Blaedwyn and her Unseelie host.
I’m alone as I wait in the Hallow for my pursuers. Thiago will kill me if he realizes I suggested using me as bait, but if one is being positive, at least he’ll be alive and free to kill me.
The ground quivers, and Blaedwyn’s horn screams through the air.
The Unseelie burst from the maze, howling and gibbering as they spot me.
Blaedwyn stalks up the hill toward the Hallow where she defeated the Erlking, the thorny vines rustling in her wake as if they’re alive and aware. You can almost hear them whispering.
“Princess,” she says smoothly, holding a strung bow in her right hand.
“Your Highness.” I’m not above common courtesy.
“It’s over,” she says, with a smile that bares her teeth, as she draws an arrow from her quiver. “Angharad will be thrilled to see what I’ve managed to get my hands on. The Prince of Evernight and his little wife, all in one.”
“You have to capture me first,” I point out.
Her eyes narrow. “Put the sword on the ground, and you won’t get hurt.”
I grip the Sword of Mourning’s hilt in one hand and hold the sheath with the other. “As I recall, it knocked you on your ass last time. Think it can do so again?”
Blaedwyn smoothly sets the arrow to her bow and nocks it. “Think you can draw it before I put an arrow through your throat?”
“I set one trap for you,” I reply. “Do you think I’ve had time to set another? Do you think it will snap closed before you can let fly?”
I tweak the power beneath me, and the Hallow vibrates.
She glances toward the stones. “Didn’t you realize you need to power the Hallow first?”
To use the portals, the correct runes need to be activated in order to channel power and open the pathway to the Hallow you intend to arrive at. I shrug. I can feel the power of the Hallow alive and awake beneath my feet, waiting for me to call it to life.
And while I intend to open a portal, this one isn’t to another Hallow.
I draw the sword. This time there’s no detonation. This time there’s no visions. Blaedwyn’s answering smile is chilling, as if she didn’t think I could be this stupid.
“You can’t defeat me,” she points out. “I wielded that sword long before you were a speck on the edge of consciousness.”
The Sword of Mourning rings as if it cuts through the air itself, a high-pitched whine almost on the edge of hearing. It’s vibrating in my hands, forcing me to grit my teeth.
Blaedwyn holds up a hand, and the sword’s tip jerks toward her.
It’s all I can do to hang onto it.
“You’re invincible with that sword,” I cry. “I know. No mortal being could stand against you and hope to survive.” I suddenly smile, swiping my palm down the sharp edge of the blade. “But look where I’m standing. I think I know someone who can defeat you. And someone who might be very, very interested in seeing you again.”
I slam my bloody palm against the nearest ward stone. It’s the one with the symbol for Uraz on it. If you squint, the rune almost looks like something with horns.
My blood ignites the Hallow, but this time it’s not opening a portal to another Hallow. The ley line beneath us trembles as if it senses a new pattern in the runes. I’ve never felt so closely linked to it, and for a moment, it almost seems as though I can touch that power.
I don’t, because I’m not an idiot and would prefer not to be incinerated.
The Hallow starts shaking.
Dust and chips of stone shiver off the ward stones. The ground trembles, forcing me to soften my knees to maintain my stance.
Blaedwyn looks down sharply, then her gaze jerks to mine and her face goes white. “What are you doing?”
Lines of light sear through the snow on the ground, the heat melting it in an instant. The marble floor of the Hallow is suddenly visible, and every bronze glyph carved into the marble glows.
“Don’t!” Blaedwyn screams, as she nearly goes to her knees.
I drive the Sword of Mourning right into the middle glyph.
It’s the key, after all.
“Surprise, bitch.” I grab onto one of the ward stones for balance as power suddenly erupts through the Hallow, and a blinding line of light forms right in the middle.
And then the Erlking steps through from his prison in the Underworld, sucking all of the oxygen from the air.
The Erlking is enormous.
Violent, gleeful eyes lock on me with an intensity that almost makes me step back. That look says run, mortal. It speaks to every ounce of my being that’s ever frozen when you hear something moving out there in the woods. It lifts all the hairs down my spine, and my lungs seize as he steps out through the rift in the world.
Because while it says run, that look also says I just might want to be captured.
Every inch of him is built to conquer, to take, to hunt. The feral slash of his cheekbones and the cruel curve of his mouth speak of a primitive kind of carnality that make me want to swallow.
And his eyes are the eyes I saw in that vision.
I was in Blaedwyn’s head when she betrayed him.
“Freedom,” he whispers, holding his hand out as if he hasn’t felt air on his skin in centuries. Dressed in strict black hunting leathers, he wears a cape of raven feathers. A crown made of golden antlers settles on his brow, and his long, tangled hair has golden beads woven through it.
Of all the Old Ones, he’s both the most dangerous and the most mercurial, but also one of the only ones we might survive. He was Master of the Wild Hunt, and though his prey never escaped him, he was also known to be benevolent toward those with pure intentions.
“You freed me,” he says, turning his focus back upon me. “And so I owe you a boon.” Cruelty tilts that mouth in a wicked curve. “But speak wisely, little one, for I shall warn you only once—my gifts hold a sting.”
“A mighty favor, Great One.” I bow my head. “And one which I shall hold in stead, for I want for nothing in this moment.”
His eyes narrow, and he steps forward. “If you want for nothing, then why did you free me?”
“I brought you a gift,” I say, pointing toward Blaedwyn.
She’s scrambling down the slope, fleeing as if the Wild Hunt is already on her heels. I can’t say I blame her. The wind is already whistling, as though a ghostly horde follows him. She’s the sole reason he spent centuries locked away in the Underworld.
The Erlking stills, his falcon-dark eyes locking upon her.
His answering smile is the kind of expression that shivers over my skin like a caress—one that can also cut like a knife. “And now I owe you two boons, child.” He snaps his fingers and a pair of golden antlers sear themselves into the back of my hand like a tattoo. “All you need do is call for me, and I shall appear.”
And then the wind whips around him and he vanishes in a swirl of ravens.