Yew Queen Trilogy, стр. 16
The Mage Duke extended a hand toward Lucus. A haze of amethyst light shimmered around the Duke’s ringed fingers.
The night of the storm, the night Lucus’s castle had appeared, flashed through my mind. The lightning had been the same color as the Mage Duke’s power.
Was the Duke going to cast the curse now? I was confused, my brain whirling with the impossibility of the situation.
But no, the Duke pointed toward the forest and Lucus turned to leave, his mouth a flat line and his eyes gone cold.
That bizarre fog rolled in again, and I strained to see through the mist for what felt like hours. My body grew tired, but I was suspended in the memory, unable to do a damn thing about it. How long would I be stuck here? I could barely move, let alone do anything about this weird magic.
The forest materialized around me. Oak leaves like hands blocked the sun, tree seeds floated like snow on a sweet-scented breeze, and pines whispered to me as I walked, entranced and under Lucus’s control. The young version of him trudged down a path not one foot in front of me, and I had the oddest sensation that his feelings were reaching back to soak into my mind and body. An ache filled my chest. Deep regret. Fear pierced me like a blade, and I hung back, gasping and watching the shadows for an attacker. What had the Mage Duke said to him? Why had he just let him walk away?
The path twisted sharply and dipped into a hollow. The earth rose high on either side like walls, barriers topped in carpet-thick moss and dangling clumps of the sapphire flowers I’d seen in the castle’s courtyard. Memory Lucus passed through a curtain of thin, pale green vines, the plant life shifting to make way for his wings, and I followed him only to come out into a world that stole every thought out of my mind.
Winged fae flew from high branches to land beside others whose magic sparked brightly against the dark brown earth. Saplings sprang to life under their palms as they joked with one another in the language Lucus had used once, the language that wasn’t Italian. The sounds rolled over my ears like burbling water, but as I walked deeper into the midst of the fae kingdom, the words became clear. I could understand them.
The air sparkled with a nearly invisible golden power, and the scent here was thick and heavy with the musky-sweet allure of nectar and sap. The trees were making some sort of sound too—like music, deep hollow notes that eased pain and stress.
A group of gray-haired fae, men and women both, walked out of a hollowed log twenty times the size of my bakery. They wore sweeping cloaks of rose petals, dresses and trousers made from leaves every color of the sunset, and boasted horns like Lucus and his brothers did.
“Greeting, young Lucus.” One of the gray-haired women raised a hand in welcome. She was wiry and built like a former Olympian.
Lucus knelt, and his feelings struck me again, dropping me to my knees beside him. My heart beat sluggishly, a searing pain blazing through me as I saw the Mage Duke’s daughter’s eyes go blank. A memory inside a memory.
Raising his gaze to the woman, Lucus began to speak, but she cut him off.
“What is this?” She rushed forward, her rose cloak fluttering and her wings tucked tightly. Her fingers reached out to touch his forehead. “Lucus. You have changed.” Turning, she spoke to the other horned fae. “Do you feel it? Can you taste the air around him? He is our new alpha.”
The men and women glanced from one to another—eyes bright and smiles tentatively hopeful—while hushed whispers flew through the lesser fae who’d gathered nearby.
“Could it be true?”
“Finally.”
“Please,” Lucus said, his voice breaking. I could feel the pressure building behind his eyes and the shuddering of his broken heart.
The older woman didn’t seem to hear him. She grinned and waved a finger. “Be sure to feed with an elder nearby at least three times before you do so on your own. Your new alpha strength will be a challenge to control properly.”
Lucus winced, and I wanted to shout at them to listen to him, to stop grinning and listen.
“Please,” he said again.
Finally, the group of elders came close and quieted.
Lucus’s eyes closed. His fingers curled into the mossy forest floor. “Don’t celebrate. I have committed a terrible crime.”
The ground trembled.
Everyone turned toward the vines we’d walked through, faces slack with shock as another thunderous quake shook the fae kingdom.
Violet lightning—the Mage Duke’s lightning—cracked against the vines, blowing them back. A volley of arrows flew through the opening. Five fae dropped, arrows jutting from their chests and ruby blood spilling over the delicate mosses and path of copper-colored pine needles. Panic dug under my skin like stinging beetles, and I struggled to stand.
The elder woman flung her hands toward the vines, and they magically snapped shut, obeying her. Oaks exploded from the ground to block the entrance fully, and all the fae moved at once to grab weapons or raise vines from the forest, preparing to fight.
Two younger, horned fae males raced from the hollow log and to Lucus’s side. It was Baccio, almost as tall as Lucus, and Aurelio, who came to Lucus’s elbow, his face still soft with childhood.
Baccio held a bundle. A baby, I realized, my heart stuttering. His cherub cheeks were flushed with