“I don’t even know my father,” I tell her truthfully. “And besides, if Fiona’s right, he’s your son. Your blood.” Which makes me her blood too.
The Queen’s lips pull back into a snarl. “But he was not only of our blood,” she snaps viciously. “Why do you think we cast him out of this world? Why do you think we abandoned him to his fate? The Dark King was his sire.”
I blink, confused. “But you killed the Dark King,” I say, remembering the story that Pan had told me.
“Yes,” the Queen hisses, looking far too pleased with herself. “We did. Because his devotion to us was naught but an act. He promised we would rule this world as one, but we soon enough learned that the Dark King never intended to rule by our side. Once he knew he had a son, he betrayed us. And so, we brought down his reign and made his court our slaves,” the Queen says, smiling that awful smile.
“Why not just kill the child as well?” Rowan asks, pushing me back. He’s trying to distract her, to divert the Queen’s attention from me.
But the Queen doesn’t fall for it. Her cold dark eyes are still on me. “Because the True Child held our own power as well.” The fiery glow in her dark eyes flares as she considers me. “But we could not risk the Dark King’s court using our own True Child against us. And so we left him in the world of men, where he was no danger to our rule.”
“The Dark Ones did rise against you, though,” Rowan charges, more desperate now as he pushes me back, away from the Queen and her wicked smile.
Her face flashes with fury, horrible and beautiful all at once. “They shall pay for that, as shall the one who led them,” she growls. “But you shall not be here to witness our final victory.”
Then the Queen turns to Fiona. “Go and prepare the others. We shall finish them, as you should have long ago. Then there is much work to do.”
Fiona hesitates only for a moment before she and the other Fey disappear in a flash of blinding light. It is only us and the Queen now. Instantly Rowan straightens, his hand already on his blade.
“For ages we have been a prisoner in our own world. For so long we have dreamed of this moment, and now it is here. Once we finish with you, my people shall wipe your kind from our world like the vermin they are. And when we have made our world whole again, we shall turn ourselves on yours.”
The prickling sensation sears across my skin in warning as the cavern starts to shake.
“We need to get out of here,” I tell Rowan as chunks of the ceiling begin to fall, but Rowan doesn’t move. He’s still staring at the Queen in fury. “We really need to go,” I repeat, nodding toward the corner of the cavern.
There, at the edges of the Queen’s light, shadows are gathering. We are too deep in the ground, and the darkness beyond her glow is too deep, too absolute here. I don’t know what the Queen’s revelation about my father means for me, but if the Dark Ones feel anything like she does, if they still want to kill us, it will be too easy here, cornered as we are.
“Go?” the Queen says, cocking her head at an awkward angle. “Oh, we think not, Young One.”
Already I can detect the faint sent of mold and rot. Rowan seems to finally have realized what’s happening. His hand grabs mine and pulls me back, farther into the cavern, away from the Queen and her threats. Away from the Dark Ones.
Behind the Queen, the shadows have started to climb up the walls, slinking and creeping until they are as tall and wide as a man. But the Queen doesn’t notice until the sound of the rushing wind starts to rustle and echo through the cavern.
When she realizes what is happening, her mouth twists into a snarl. “No!” she roars, and the cavern trembles and vibrates with the volume and tenor of her voice.
Behind her, though, the Dark One is fully formed. Its inky black wings unfurl and beat in a steady rhythm that causes a gust of wind to course through the cavern, whipping my hair and clothes.
It isn’t alone. All along the cavern walls, more shadows creep and bleed into one another, gathering and swelling. The whole cave is saturated with the smell of them—the dampness of rot, the swirling shuffle of wind rustling. Soon the darkness is rising, climbing up to our knees, up farther then, our waists.
The Queen’s eyes meet mine, and there is a look of such pure hate and rage in them that I gasp. “You,” she snarls, pointing at me. “You have done this.” Her eyes are wild. “You dare try to rise against us?” She lets out a long, threatening hiss. Suddenly Rowan’s arms fall away from me.