Page 131 of These Fractured Bonds

But at least she had rescued her friend, killed her tormentor, and was on her way to becoming powerful. Leo would understand that. Augrys was another matter. The only upsidewas that she didn’t have to think more about it; he wasn’t here. It washerproblem, and she was the one dealing with it.

She took the final step, landing in a compact room. She sneezed; it was dustier than the corridors, and her feet left deep imprints on the ground, upsetting the thick layer of sediment that had sat untouched. She held her light farther, seeing the faint ridges of a door set in the dark, gray stone. Runes in tiny print traced its outline, and she thought she could faintly make out ancient Izmarian. A familiar pulse came from it, but it was gentler this time, like the soft touch of a loved one. Her power lay behind it, except she had no way of opening it.

Touch it.

Yareli jumped. After traversing through the muted, dark staircase, hearing Weni in her head again had scared the hell out of her. She placed a tentative hand on its cold surface; it responded immediately, lighting up a brilliant purple. Thunder clapped in the room as the door struggled to roll away. Extinguishing the flame, she covered her ears with her hands and shut her eyes against the sudden brightness. The strong smell of rotting wood hit her nostrils, and she gagged, but when she opened her eyes, a lush forest filled her vision.

She stepped forward.

A tug in her abdomen hit her, dragging her backward, away from the doorway. She screamed, then choked as a veil fell on her, tightening around her in its familiar embrace. She was shadowstepping, except it wasn’t her doing. She struggled harder, but even her magic didn’t listen to her call. She was screwed. Darkness fell over her, and she was yanked away from her power.

Yarelilandedinalavish, private sitting room with a plush red carpet; her knees sank into it. Paintings and sculptures were strewn across the room, lying in a state of incompleteness. Paintings were missing the subject’s face. Sculptures remained headless, blocks of unshaped stone on top of their necks. The sudden change in surroundings unbalanced her. Being sent away moments from claiming her power…

Indignation bubbled in her chest, coalescing into a giant outburst ready to tear the room. She strode toward the painting opposite her when she heard a voice behind her.

“Yareli.”

She spun around.

The Fae Queen, her gown pooled onto the ground, like a yellow ink splotch on the red, awaited her. Yareli’s chest rose and fell in great heaves. Queen Reamiria knew her real name. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry.

“Be at peace, child. I harbor no ill will. Your disguise is great spellwork.”

“But you saw through it.” Yareli pointed out.

“I am the queen of Fae. My magic goes beyond what ordinary Fae can accomplish. I knew the moment you entered Izmari, felt the moment you stepped in the capital city, and saw through the spell the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Why did you say nothing?”

She released a long sigh, and Yareli noticed her physical state for the first time. Hollowed, dark eye bags, sunken cheekbones, a complete one-eighty from a few weeks ago.

“You’re sick,” she said.

“I am both unwell and well.” At Yareli’s confused look, Queen Reamiria continued. “There is little time available to me to instruct you on the history behind the relationship between the Fae Queen and the Great Tree.”

Feet stomped past the room, drawing their attention to the door. When they faded away, she spoke again.

“What you must know is that you were selected by the Great Tree.”

Memories of the expansive tree with rolling translucent leaves adorning its massive brown trunk flashed through Yareli’s mind.

“What do you mean?”

The queen raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why are you here tonight?”

She thought about lying, but she had a feeling the queen knew the answer.

“There’s a pulse… that seems to call me.”

“That is the Great Tree calling you.”

A terrible coughing fit interrupted her, and Yareli looked around. A glass of water shone by the coffee table. She hurried to bring it to her. Queen Reamiria took a long sip.

“It’s real?”

“Very much so, but its call is not without its burdens.”

Weni had promised great power, but she had made no mention of the Great Tree. Did it mean she was expected to help it in return for power? She returned her attention to the queen, who had taken a seat in an armchair. Her green eyes were gazing into the fireplace; the long shadows made her purple eye bags more pronounced. If she were to trust the queen’s words about her connection to the tree, then…