“What was that?” I look up at the ceiling, thankful it hasn’t collapsed completely, but it’s pockmarked now and no longer flickers with diamondlike shards.
I start to step toward the center of the room, trying to figure out if anything else has happened, but my foot falters when the ground beneath it crumbles away. Where once there was flat, solid rock, the ground is now carved out into a deep crater. The floor is gone, and in its place a narrow path winds down, spiraling into the center, and in the center of that crater someone or something is huddled, a clumped mass of dirty rags that seems to be moving.
I step back as something within the pile of rags moves again. It can’t possibly be the Queen. There is no way this crumpled bit of blackened fabric is what we need to save ourselves and this world.
“Bring the torch.” I turn to Rowan, but before he can reach me, the world explodes in light.
Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, unlike the other lads who slept deeply, like the dead. On those nights, he could not raise himself from the horrors held in his sleeping hours, though he wailed piteously in them. But when he woke, he could not remember the things he had forgotten. . . .
Chapter 36
I SQUINT AGAINST THE BRIGHTNESS that saturates the cavern, until my eyes adjust to the unnatural glow lighting the space. When I can finally see again, I notice that a figure stands in the center of the crater—a woman.
I know at once I’m in the presence of the Queen. Like Fiona, she is tall and slender, with long, graceful limbs and skin that glows like alabaster. Like Fiona, her face is both beautiful and terrible to behold. Her eyes are alert and, while they are the same deep, glossy black of Fiona’s, the irises glow as though they’re ringed in fire.
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is also similar to Fiona’s, but where Fiona’s voice had the threatening buzz of a hive of bees, the Queen’s voice is purely feral, wild and almost unintelligible.
The world around us throbs—once, twice—then the steady, heartbeat of the island begins again.
I thought Neverland had been teeming with life before, but I’d been wrong. Now even the air seems alive, brushing against my cold skin like an electric current. Like the world itself is welcoming the Queen back.
Unbidden, a pulse of excitement and anticipation races through me.
The Queen tips her head back and inhales deeply, rolling her neck on her narrow shoulders, stretching and reveling in her new freedom. Behind her a flash appears, like a flame leaping from the ground, and when the light eases, Fiona stands there. Then another flaming column of light, and another of Fiona’s brethren appears as well.
Rowan steps forward to protect me, and the movement catches the Queen’s attention. She turns her terrible, beautiful face to him, her glossy black eyes narrowed in hate. Her lips pull back, exposing her wickedly sharp teeth, and she lets out a chilling hiss of warning. But before she can strike, she notices me.
Every muscle in the Queen’s body goes completely, unnaturally still. For a moment, it looks as though she is a statue carved from alabaster, but then the moment passes, and her expression flashes with such hate, I take an instinctive step back.
“Abomination,” the Queen snarls at me. Then she whips her head around as fast as a snake striking, and steps toward Fiona. “How did this come to be in my presence?” she hisses.
Abomination? I think, my chest tight. I don’t know what I expected when we unearthed the Queen, but this is not it.
Fiona bows low. “She was necessary, my Queen,” Fiona explains, more humble than I have ever seen her. If I’m not mistaken, she might even be shaking.
The power in the cavern swells, pulses, until it feels as though a thousand needles are stabbing at me. “And is she still necessary?” the Queen hisses, her voice a dangerously unleashed buzz I feel as much as hear.
Fiona looks up then, a satisfied smile curving at her mouth. “No, my Queen. She is not.”
Rowan takes my hand and begins backing away from the two of them as the Queen turns to me.
This is not how I’d expected her to react. After all, if Fiona is right, I’m her son’s daughter—her own blood. “I don’t understand. . . .” I whisper. “We freed you.”
The Queen turns back to me in a single fluid movement that exposes her as the predator that she is. “Did you?” she asks, cocking her head at an unnatural angle as her glossy eyes burn into me.
“Aye, she did. In fact, she’s risked everything to save you,” Rowan adds, moving closer to me, as though intending to protect me if the Queen decides to strike.
The Queen’s eyes flicker to him before coming back to stare at me with unconcealed distaste. “Has she?” the Queen asks, and then her eyes narrow. “Or has she something else in mind. Has she come to do her sire’s bidding?”