“A Child of Two Realms, though a Citizen of Neither,
She holds the keys to both kingdoms in her grasp.
With consorts of both she comes into her power.
A Dark Mage and a White Knight have both won her favor.
Her heart is divided between them—her love belongs to both.
Iron cannot burn her and even the wildest creature will be tame to her hand.
For the power of both Realms flows in her veins.
When the time of reckoning comes, she must choose between the Light and the Darkness—the Summer and the Winter—and nothing will be as it was.
For her decision will change the Realms…forever.”
A sigh swept through the banquet hall as Queen Mab finished reciting and I saw that Queen Elia was crying again. She turned to me, and the worry and despair I saw in her face frightened me more than Mab’s mad smile.
“She is right—I cannot stop her taking you because you must spend some time in the Winter Kingdom before you choose,” she said in a choked voice. “But you must be careful, my dear! Don’t eat any food that is offered to you—not even a crumb! And don’t drink any wine, either—promise me!”
This was beginning to remind me of the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades. The way he had stolen her down to Hell and there she had gotten hungry and eaten six pomegranate seeds, which gave him the right to keep her with him six months out of every year for some reason. I remembered Lachlan saying that every fairy tale and myth had a basis in reality—could this be part of what he’d been talking about?
“I promise,” I said. “But how long do I have to stay there?”
“A night and a day—starting now, I think.” Mab was suddenly right in front of me, though I hadn’t seen her move. Her dress seemed to be made of the same green and purple smoke the portal was made of. She held out a long white hand to me, tipped in sharp red nails. “Come—let us visit the Winter Court together so that you can sample the delights of the Dark Lands, Granddaughter mine.”
“She’s not going alone,” Bran growled, rising to stand at my left side.
“We’re going with her,” Lachlan added, coming to stand on my right.
Mab raised her eyebrows again but only nodded.
“I would expect nothing less. Though I daresay your White Knight will feel less at home in my palace than the Dark Mage, my dear,” she said to me. “Come then—let us all go.”
“Be careful, my dear!” Queen Elia gathered me to her for a brief, fierce hug. “Remember—let nothing pass your lips!” she whispered in my ear before letting me go.
And then, since I apparently had no choice, I had to go with Queen Mab—my other grandmother—to the Winter Court.
I could feel my knees shaking as we approached the awful dark portal but Bran grabbed one hand and Lachlan took the other.
“It’s all right, little one,” the dark Fae murmured. “We’ll be by your side no matter what.”
“We’ll never leave you,” Bran swore.
And then the three of us passed through the dark portal into the Winter Court.
85
“What’s going on? Where are we?” I looked around myself in surprise as we passed through the portal. We had left the banquet hall of the Summer Court and somehow ended up back where we’d started—in the banquet hall.
Only this banquet hall looked different. It was empty, for one thing, except for Mab and Bran and Lachlan and myself. Also, the colors were all wrong. Everything in the Summer Court was white and gold and warm. This banquet hall was like a negative mirror image of the first one. The white walls and floors had been turned to black and the magical globes that hung near the ceiling shed a weak, silvery radiance over the vast room, instead of the golden glow I had gotten used to.
“We are in the palace of the Winter Court, of course, my dear,” Mab said, smiling her mad smile at me.
“But…it looks just like the Summer Court,” I protested. “Well, except for the colors, I guess.”
I looked around, frowning at the subtle wrongness of everything. It wasn’t just the colors and the lighting—there was an aura of evil in the air—the feeling you get when you walk into a haunted house. Not one of those fake, jump-scare kind they set up around Halloween—I’m talking about a house that’s been abandoned a long time—maybe one where murder was committed or somebody died in the bathtub and the body wasn’t found for days. That kind of feeling.
“Didn’t you know?” Mab asked, her insectile eyebrows climbing up her forehead again. “Both the Summer Court and the Winter Court exist in the same space—though in different realities.”
“Really?” The idea was mind-blowing. I looked at Lachlan and Bran for confirmation. “They’re in the same spot?”