She gathered her feet under her and stood up shakily. “Hello?” she said.
There was no answer.
She had twice been to this place. The first time she had been forced—drawn from her sister’s birthday party by a strange masked woman. The second, she had come herself, somehow, trying to escape the darkness of the cave where she had been confined by the sisters of the coven Saint Cer.
This time she wasn’t sure if she had been called or come or something in between. But it was nighttime, where before it had always been bright. And there was no one here—no strange masked women making obscure statements about how she had to be queen, or the whole world was going to end.
Maybe they didn’t know she was here.
A cloud passed across the moon, and the shadows in the trees deepened, seemed to slink toward her.
That was when she remembered that there were no shadows in this place, not under the sun, at least. Then why should they be here when it was night?
She was starting to think she wasn’t in the same place at all.
And it dawned upon her that she had been wrong about another thing. There was someone there, someone her eye kept avoiding, would not let her stare straight at. She tried harder, but each time she turned one way, she found herself looking another, so the tall shadow was always at the corner of her eye.
A soft laugh touched her ears. A man. “What is this,” a voice said. “Is this a queen, come to see me?”
Anne realized she was trembling. He moved, and she gritted her teeth as her head turned in response, so as not to see him. “I’m not a queen,” she said.
“Not a queen?” he asked. “Nonsense. I see the crown on your head and the scepter in your hand. Didn’t the Faiths tell you?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Anne said. “I don’t know any Faiths.” But she knew she was lying. The women she had met here before had never named themselves, but that name seemed very right, somehow.
He knew, too. “Perhaps you do not know them by name,” the voice purred, echoing her thoughts. The shadows drew closer. “They are known by many. Hagautsin, Vhateis, Suesori, Hedgewights—the Shadowless. It doesn’t matter what they’re called. They are meddlesome witches with not nearly the wisdom or power they pretend to.”
“And you? Who are you?” Anne tried to sound confident.
“Someone they fear. Someone they think you can protect them from. But you cannot.”
“I don’t understand,” Anne said. “I just want to go home.”
“So you can be crowned? So you can become what the Faiths predicted?”
“I don’t want to be queen,” Anne replied truthfully, continuing to edge away. Her fear was a bright cord around her heart, but she reached for the power she had unleashed in z’Espino. She felt it quivering there, ready, but when she reached toward the shadow, there was no flesh, no blood, no beating heart. Nothing to work upon.
And yet there was something, and that something came suddenly, racing across the green from not one direction, but from all of them, a noose of darkness yanking tight. She balled her fists, trembling, and turned her face to the moon, the only place her flesh would let her look.
Light flashed through her, then, and the thing in her turned altogether different and she felt like marble, like luminescent stone, and the darkness was a wave of chill water that passed around her and was gone.
“Ah,” the voice said, fading. “You continue to learn. But so do I. Do not hold your life too dear, Anne Dare. It will not belong to you for long.”
Then the shadows were gone, and the glade was filled with perfect moonlight.
“He’s right,” a woman’s voice said. “You do learn. There are more diverse powers in the moon than darkness.”
Anne turned, but it wasn’t one of the women she had seen before. This one had hair as silvery as the lunar light and skin as pale. She wore a black gown that flashed here and there with jewels and a mask of black ivory that left her mouth uncovered.
“How many of you are there?” Anne asked.
“There are four,” the woman replied. “You have met two of my sisters.”
“The Faiths.”
“He named to you but a few of our names.”
“I’ve never heard of you by any names until now.”
“It has been long since we moved in the world. Most have forgotten us.”
“Who was that? Who was he?”
“He is the enemy,” she said.
“The Briar King?”
She shook her head. “The Briar King is not the enemy, though many of you will die by his hand. The Briar King is a part of the way things were and the way things are. The one you just spoke to is not.”
“Then who was he?”
“A mortal, still. A thing of flesh and blood, but becoming more. Like the world, he is changing. If he finishes changing, then everything we know will be swept aside.”
“But who is he?” Anne persisted.
“We do not know his mortal name. But the possibility of him has been arriving for millennia.”
Anne closed her eyes, anger welling in her breast. “You’re as useless as your sisters.”
“We’re trying to help, but by our nature we are restricted.”
“Yes, your sister explained that, at least,” Anne replied. “But I found it just as unhelpful as anything else any of you have told me.”
“Everything has its seasons, Anne. The moon goes through its cycle each month, and each year brings spring, summer, autumn, winter. But the world has larger seasons, stronger tides. Flowers that bloom in Prismen are dormant in Novmen. It has been so since the world was young.”
“And yet the last time this season came around, the cycle itself was nearly broken, a balance was lost. The wheel creaks on a splintered axle, and possibilities exist that never did before. One of those possibilities is him. Not a person, at first, just a place, a throne if you will, never sat before but waiting to be filled. And now someone has come along to fill it. But we do not yet know him—we see only what you saw, his shadow.”
“Is he the one behind the murder of my sisters and father? Did he send the knights to the coven?”
“Ultimately, perhaps. He certainly wants you dead.”
“But why?”
“He does not want you to be queen.”
“Why?” Anne repeated. “What threat am I to him?”
“Because there are two new thrones,” the Faith said, softly. “Two.”
Anne woke on the deck of the ship. Someone had slipped a blanket over her. She lay there a moment, fearing that if she straightened, the wave-sickness would return, but after a moment she realized that she felt well.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was morning, the sun just peeking over the marine horizon. Austra was at the railing a few yards away, conversing in low tones with Cazio. She was smiling, and when Cazio reached to touch her hand, she went all rosy.
Silly girl, Anne thought angrily. Can’t she see there’s no sincere love in him? He’s just a boy, playing games.
But why should Austra’s foolishness bother her? After all, if he was focused on Austra, perhaps he’d leave her alone. That certainly would be for the best.
Still, Austra was her friend, and she had to watch out for her. So she pulled herself to her feet using the rail. There was no renewal of her nausea. She felt well, at least physically.
“Ah, she’s alive after all,” Cazio said, glancing in her direction. Austra jumped guiltily, and her blush deepened. Anne suddenly wondered if things had gone farther than a bit of hand-touching. While she was sick and asleep, perhaps?
She wouldn’t have to ask. Austra would volunteer any information eventually. Or—maybe not. There had been a time when they shared everything, but they had grown apart. Anne knew it was her own fault, for hiding things from Austra. Perhaps Austra was getting her revenge.