Page 98 of The Blood Queen

Something glints in the sun, even with the winter overcast sky: her ring. That thick ruby ring she’s been wearing, the one that glows scarlet.

“What are our orders, Lady Alyth?” Kitty asks from behind us.

Alyth doesn’t get a chance to respond before I shake my head. “Wait.”

The High Blade laughs. A great booming cackle of laughter, maniacal and giddy, before she removes the ring, tosses it at the stone, and starts reciting something the wind doesn’t pick up.

It’s a Red Cap weapon. That ring. Never knew what it did, but—

“I don’t—” Alyth starts, but I’m moving. Not entirely sure why. Instinct’s grabbing me, that slowdown of something not being right finally catching up.

“Run!” I shout as I grab the reins of Alyth’s horse and fight to turn us around—just before the stone explodes.

26 Alyth

My ears are ringing, smoke stinging my eyes, a sharp cut blossoming on the back of my hand from hitting a rock when my horse threw me. Through the chaos, my eyes find Samson’s.

He’s still with me, not changed over to his Red Cap state. He throws himself off his horse and rushes to me. There’s blood and chaos and war raging, swirling, and it would be so easy for him to drown in it, but I can see his aura shot through with his self-control, the clear grip he has on himself.

“You’re okay?” he says, his eyes roving over me.

I reach up and touch the side of his face, the blood smearing on his cheek. He has always been my shield, my sword.

Time to return the favor.

Samson offers me a hand to help me stand. The explosion sent the troops into disarray, but the Red Caps are feasting, leaping from soldier to soldier, killing any human or weaker fae they can reach regardless of whether they’re English or Scottish. The men who thought they were following Queen Elizabeth in an invasion of Scotland must surely have realized this is no normal war long ago, but until now, they must have thought they would be spared. Fighting for the monster doesn’t mean you’ll not be devoured.

“They’re just getting stronger and stronger,” Samson mutters.

And it’s true. The Red Caps are gluttonous as they gleefully consume this violence. The entire area is blindingly red with their auras, a wave of crimson light as their power grows. Any being in their range, they attack, regardless of side, and their power grows exponentially with each death.

A screeching, bloodcurdling, cacophonous wail rises up, so horrific that even the people fighting for their lives pause. For a moment, the sun is blocked out with a wave of shadows, the sound intensifying.

The bean-sìthe have risen.

“Oh, I’ve heard of these,” Samson moans, covering his ears. “Banshees.”

His accent is off, but he understands the gravity of these fae creatures’ presence. The spirits take the form of women who scream, harbingers of death to those who are unjust.

And they’re on our side, targeting the Red Caps, whose weapons cannot pierce their shadowy presence. Likewise, though, the bean-sìthe are not powerful enough to kill the Red Caps, but their focused screaming does buy us time as I and my Leth and fae army push higher up the hill, toward the Caiy Stone.

The High Blade’s ring split the rock in two, but the portal’s not dead. Not yet anyway. What did the ring do? I’m so used to Red Cap weapons being tools of destruction, but while the explosion broke the Caiy Stone, the magical portal isn’t gone…

Beyond the screaming darkness, I see the brilliant radiance of the High Blade’s excited, joyous aura as she summons the nearest Red Caps to focus on her. One of her minions blasts a horn, and she shouts something I cannot make out.

“The portal—” I say, directing those nearest me.

We’d thought the High Blade marched to the Caiy Stone to go through the portal, to walk right into the heart of the Seelie Court.

But she’s learned, through every broken portal along the way, that she needs to do more.

“No,” I whisper.

Through the battle raging around us, Samson hears me. “What is it? Did she destroy the portal? No, it’s something else. It’s—”

“She blew it wide open,” I say. I stare with horror at the glowing edges of the hole ripped between the worlds.

Portals are elegant, crafted with ancient magic from both realms, but this?