Radiant Shadows

Chapter 22

Rae had thought that being trapped in the cave was frustrating, but being caught inside Sorcha’s palace made her realize how very fortunate she’d been. In the cave, Rae had been alone, but she’d not been at anyone’s mercy. Here, she was Sorcha’s prisoner; here, she was the only link between Faerie itself and the queen who was to keep the world in order.

And has lost interest in doing so.

Sorcha had retreated to a dream so she could watch her absent son.

One of the veiled mortals sat observing the sleeping queen; the other had left the room to speak to whomever she consulted to find information for the queen. Neither spoke to Rae unless it was unavoidable. They kept themselves far from her, sitting on the step of the dais. Even with the room empty of faeries, they didn’t step on the top of the dais or near the chair of twisted strands of silver that sat there. They remained silent and distant.

Fear of her or me?

The room in which Rae waited was far larger than the cave. It was vast, fading to shadowed reaches on one side and enormous arched windows on the opposite side. The farthest corner of the room was lined with barred doorways, some covered by ancient tapestries. Beyond the mosaics that surrounded the sleeping queen’s glass bed, the floor was of slick black rock, and the whole of the room was interspersed with white pillars supporting a star-scattered ceiling.

Rae stood and approached the queen. The glass had taken on a deep-blue tint; it darkened the longer Sorcha slept. And as it darkened, more and more faeries drifted into sleeps from which they would not awaken. Rae could feel them, feel their dreams beyond the room where she attended the sleeping queen.

Where are you, Devlin? Please, please, come home. But wishes didn’t change the waking world, and hoping to be rescued was as futile now as it had been in her mortal life.

“It is time again.” The mortal spoke. “You must check on our queen.”

Rae had no idea how the girl knew the time or could keep count of the moments that had passed. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Rae needed to go to the High Queen.

“I hate this,” she muttered as she stepped up to the blue glass chrysalis and into Sorcha’s dream.

Sorcha didn’t look away from the mirror. It was the same cloudy glass framed by fire-blackened vines as in the first dream. In it, Rae could see Sorcha’s son, Seth. He sat in a strange green chair drawing in a notepad. As far as interesting visions went, this one didn’t rate at all, but Sorcha was transfixed by it. The High Queen’s expression was one of utter rapture.

“He creates such beauty.” Sorcha lifted her hand and made as if to trace the sketch. “Would that I were so skilled.”

“You create the entire world. That’s—”

“Nothing compared to him.” Sorcha pulled her gaze away to scowl at Rae.

And Rae knew that openly disagreeing was unwise. “Yes, my queen.”

Like Faerie itself, the landscape around Sorcha’s dream was shrinking. In the dream only the two walls of the small room where she sat with the mirror were in full detail. Beyond that, it was as if they were in a painting only partially completed. The dreamscape was a darkening blue void, as if it were some sort of endless sky or sea that wasn’t yet in focus.

Rae began envisioning the fields of Faerie, rebuilding the landscape as it had been when the dream began. The emptiness of the dream was unsettling, more so because the dreamer was the one who built and maintained Faerie.

“No. I want none of that.” Sorcha waved her hand, blanking it all out before the vista was truly even there. It was her dream, so such an alteration was possible—more so, perhaps, because the High Queen understood the particulars of remaking reality.

If she cannot look beyond the mirror in her dream, what does that mean for Faerie?

Rae stood uselessly in the dream room, not quite in the nothingness beyond it, but close enough to that abyss that she had to struggle against her instinct to form worlds there. It was an empty plane with no one’s desires, no one’s horrors, no one’s fingerprints to alter. This must be how Faerie looked before Sorcha. The High Queen, however, was oblivious to the things around her. All that she saw was the image of her son in the mortal world.

Sorcha did not look away from the mirror a second time. “Leave me.”

Rae started, “Perhaps you might wake. The world is falling apart—”

“I will wake when my son returns.” The High Queen waved her fingers. Suddenly three winged leonine creatures wrought of moonlight and lightning stood between them, guarding the queen, keeping her out of reach. The animals’ translucent bodies flickered with the lightning that flashed inside them. As one opened its mouth, sparks escaped. It didn’t advance, but it watched Rae. The second creature stretched out at Sorcha’s side. Its wings spread wide and blocked the sight of both the High Queen and the mirror. The third snarled as it crouched down.

Rae wasn’t sure what would happen if she were to be bitten by them, but she didn’t care to stay and find out. With a barely proper curtsy, Rae turned and stepped from Sorcha’s dream into the deteriorating world of Faerie.

She needs to wake.

Rae had given Sorcha the window into the mortal world. It was an anomaly, but the High Queen was the embodiment of logic. She shouldn’t be so fascinated. Something was amiss, and the cause of it was beyond Rae’s understanding.

I need to reach Devlin.

Of course, he hadn’t even told Rae that he had a nephew. The High Queen had a son who lived in the mortal world. It explained Devlin’s frequent secretive visits there, but it didn’t explain why the Queen of Order would behave so irrationally.

Something here is wrong.

Silently, Rae drifted across the throne room and stopped.

One of the mortals was weeping.

“What happened?” Rae asked.

The other mortal pointed toward one of the tall arched windows. Rae couldn’t approach it, not as bright as the sky was, but she could see even from a distance that the mountain was partially gone. Faerie was shifting, unmaking itself more and more. As the queen’s mind noticed only the images in the mirror, the landscape of Faerie was no longer real to her. Some faeries could not adjust to the lack of logic and were following her, retreating into their own dreams. The truly High Court faeries are lost without her. In the street outside, those faeries stretched out in odd positions, fallen to sleep where they’d been. Faerie was going dormant.

The weeping mortal lifted her veil and stared at Rae. “The world is ending.”

Behind Rae, the High Queen slept. She wore a smile, looking more at peace than she appeared in waking or in her dreams.

“Go back.” The mortal sank to the floor and stared up at Rae with a tear-wet face. “Talk to her. She needs to wake.”

And Rae had no choice. Outside the palace, faeries were apparently either sickening or sleeping. Within the palace, there were few faeries left awake. Rae could feel the tendrils of all of their dreams like whispered summonses. For the first time since she’d entered Faerie, there were dreamers all around.

Rae slipped back into Sorcha’s dream.

The High Queen hadn’t moved; she remained crouched at the mirror.

“My queen?” Rae tried to keep the tremble from her voice.

“How long has it been?”

“Your court needs you. I think it’s time to awaken.”

“You think?” Sorcha laughed. “No. You are to only interrupt if there is a crisis.”

“There is.” Rae knelt beside the queen. “Faerie seems to be… falling apart. Parts of it are vanishing.”

Sorcha glanced down at her long enough to give her an indulgent look. “It’s large enough that it’ll be fine, child. Leave quietly. My son is resting. He sleeps so fitfully sometimes. I wonder at his health.”

The High Queen had no interest in Rae’s remarks, her own court, or Faerie itself. Rae debated removing the mirror, but there was no one around capable of dealing with an angry queen who would be forcefully brought back to Faerie. What I need is Devlin… which means I need to reach him… which means…

Sorcha leaned closer to the mirror. “I can’t see what books he prefers to read. He stacks them haphazardly rather than shelving them.”

And with that, the High Queen’s attention was gone from Rae, from Faerie, from the crisis that her sleep was causing.

Silently, Rae stepped back into Faerie—hoping that it hadn’t unraveled further still.

The room was lit by several candles, and the scant light was barely enough to make out the area immediately around the sleeping queen. One of the mortals was missing.

Before Rae could ask, the other said, “She has gone to the kitchens.”

“I need to go for help.” Rae wished she could take the mortal with her or promise her that things would get better, but she had no words of comfort.

Sleep soon, Devlin. I need you.

“She doesn’t wake.” The mortal rested a hand on the darkening blue glass. She caught and held Rae’s gaze as she asked, “Where will we go if Faerie vanishes? Will we fade away with it?”

“Faerie won’t disappear. Neither will you.” But even as Rae spoke those words, she wasn’t sure if they were truth or lie. Without the High Queen to direct the world, Rae suspected that Faerie would unravel—and she had no idea what that meant for the faeries and mortals living there.