Guards again.
Why does she keep mentioning guards?
A niggle of suspicion starts to form in the back of my mind. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve purposely forgotten a ton of what Nine taught me about Faerie. When countless social workers, therapists, and psychologists repeat over and over again that the fae aren’t real, the fairy tales told to you by your imaginary friend are some of the first things to go.
When it comes to guards, though? Who else would have guards except for the woman in control of both courts?
No. That can’t be true. As my queasy stomach just proved, I can still sense the difference between the truth and a lie. Over the last few days, I would’ve known if Carolina was really working with the Fae Queen instead of a random Unseelie who wanted to see the queen fall.
Right?
I freaking hope so.
Unfortunately, there’s no time for me to run through every conversation I had with Carolina, every mention of the fae she was compelled to serve. Not when she says with absolute agreement, “I will.”
“You did well, pet. I think you’ve earned a reward. For your loyalty, I think I can spare an apple from one of the trees in my garden. As I recall, they’re your favorite.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Carolina sounds so strange. It’s like hope mingled with defeat as she bends to the will of the Dark Fae female. It’s the promise of the apple that does it, I figure. She didn’t have to beg for a bite—she just had to sell me out to get one.
Or did she?
“However...”
“Mistress?”
“Tut, tut, Carolina. I thought I instructed you to come alone.”
A gasp, followed by a shaky response, “I… I did. I told my parents I was going outside to sit in the sun like you said for me to. I followed your guide to the garden. No one else was there.”
“Is that so? I sense darkness contaminating my light. There, on the other side of that door. Prove it to me. Prove that you’re still loyal to your mistress and, perhaps, I’ll spare you this time.”
Oh, shit.
There’s not enough time for me to move.
The door swings open. I’m blinded by a flash even brighter than the white room I’m in. I turn to run, but my legs don’t seem to be working right. The shag carpet has turned to tendrils around my feet, keeping me in place. Panic rushes through me. I yank, desperate to get away from the truth of what’s on the other side of that door.
And that’s when I feel myself begin to fall.
“Excuse me… Miss? Um. Hello?”
My eyes fly open.
A scream’s halfway to my lips when I recognize the round-faced boy who took my ticket at the door. He has one hand outstretched as if he was about to
shake me awake. There’s still enough space between us that my phobia isn’t triggered.
If he had touched me, no way I could have kept that scream back.
His other hand clutches a flashlight that’s angled down on the tacky, multi-colored carpet. Faint, dark spots dance in front of my vision. He must have shone it on my face right before I came out of that strange dream.
At least that explains the flash.
Now if only I could come up with a rational reason behind the strange conversation I created between Carolina and her mistress…
The usher’s face is young and worried. He clears his throat when I still haven’t made any move to get out of my seat. “I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you, but the last movie has ended. It’s time to close up the theater.”