Page 99 of The Blood Queen

I thought closing the strongest portal between the realms would spell doom for both Scotland and the Seelie Court. That severing the magical connections would destroy us all.

This is worse.

“It’s like a tapestry being unraveled,” Samson says, horrified.

I can see it too, although I suspect his abilities make it clearer to him. Glowing light melts in an ever-widening circle, the twilight of the Otherworld darkening the early-morning light of Scotland. The Caiy Stone would have granted access to one or two soldiers at a time; already, the rip between the realms is wide enough for a dozen, maybe two, to stride through.

“Red Caps!” the High Blade screams, her sword raised high. She lowers her arm, pointing the tip toward the expanse of exposed fae realm.

Her armor gleams, silver and gold shimmering in magical light, her vivid red hair cascading down her back, the blood on her sword glittering like rubies. She is beautiful, even in terror. She casts one look behind her, scanning the warriors, smiling at the death, joyous at the bloodshed.

Her eyes meet mine.

Bright, shining triumph washes over her aura, spring green and blindingly powerful.

She steps through the wide-open portal.

I grab Samson’s hand. I should find a way to force him to stay behind, but I can’t, not now. I need him, and I know it’s selfish, but when I start running, he’s right beside me, and that, that more than anything in the world gives me the courage to chase after the most deadly monster the world has ever known.

“With me!” I shout, and the fae nearby—the Green Lady, Kitty, and a small troop of brownies—rush behind me. Samson stays beside me, and a large black streak of something passes by us. I squint as I run and recognize the whispery form of a cat sìth, another foreteller of death, a huge lion-size cat that escorts the doomed to the afterlife. The creature has claws of obsidian, razor-sharp, and it’s much more effective than the screaming bean-sìthe, sending sprays of blood over the battlefield as it cuts a swath through the High Blade’s army, human and fae alike.

Dimly, I’m aware of Samson’s nature shifting as he taps into his powers, using his inhuman strength and Red Cap senses to deflect sword blows and snatch arrows from the air before they strike me.

Before us, the gaping portal hangs open, a split in reality that looks like a fatal wound. If destroying portals kills them, what is this abomination? Does the High Blade even care what and who she destroys in her mad quest for the fae throne?

Most of the Red Caps are already through the portal, following their leader. A few are lost to bloodlust, still fighting on Scottish soil, too far gone to even notice as we leap into the fae realm.

I feel the sizzle of power as the rip between the worlds widens, and I leap through, Samson right beside me.

We crash into the open courtyard in the center of the Seelie palace compound. The brownies of the palace, brave wee dears, are attacking without any seeming semblance of fear, using kitchen knives and platters as swords and shields and resorting to teeth and nails when disarmed. They have far more courage than some of the more noble fae who let arrows fall from the parapets.

“Defend the realm!” Kirk shouts, chicken feather broken at the base but still perched crookedly in his hair.

“Feck that. Defend my Lady Alyth,” Kitty snarls. She leaps from the Green Lady’s shoulder, all four limbs akimbo as she lands directly on the face of a Red Cap that had been barreling toward us. I can hear the muffled screams of rage and pain as Kitty stabs the Red Cap in his neck, clawing at his face, going for the eyes.

Old fae have been summoned, powerful beings that lumber forth. A cold blast knocks back a whole troop of Red Caps, ice slicing across their skin. I don’t see Beira, but I’m certain she’s here, her dark skin giving her some camouflage in the spreading perpetual twilight.

“You have work to do,” a tall, broad man dressed in leaves and birch bark tells me, striding by, swinging his arm like it was an axe and sending a whole line of the enemy flying. The Ghillie Dhu, an ancient fae, must have returned from the Highlands to the fae realm to help. Perhaps the useless princes actually did something good to summon him. “Go, child.”

I nod, turning and racing toward the doors leading into the palace from the inner courtyard, Samson at my left with weapons drawn, then ducking behind me, weaving around swords and arrows and daggers. He has a knife sticking out of his shoulder and blood leaking down his face, striping his cheeks with gore, but he doesn’t seem to notice any of it. So far, the magic of the palace is holding, forcing the Red Caps into a slippery loop they haven’t yet been able to break.

Even—

I cast one terrified look behind me and see the High Blade watching us, her attention focused on me, slicing straight through the chaos.

Around me, the magic groans.

It cannot hold against her.

Now that she’s through the portal, there is nothing that will keep the High Blade from the throne room, from the loom, and if she gets there, she can manipulate the fate of every living thing in both realms.

“Follow her!” The High Blade’s screech chases after me, sending chills down my spine.

I stumble, looking behind me at the still-open portal. What if, by going straight to the throne room, I give the Red Caps enough of a clue to break through the magic that keeps them from advancing past the courtyard?

Before I can fully put this fear to thought, the Ghillie Dhu thunders behind me, blocking the High Blade from my vision as he takes position at the door leading into the palace, a giant that won’t back down. We have a clear route inside the castle, with the Ghillie Dhu buying us time.

“Come on,” Samson says, tugging on my hand as we race toward the throne room.