51

“My bedroom,” I said. “Under my pillow.”

She stood up, then strode down the hall into my quarters. She returned with both in hand, then dropped back into her seat. Corinne stared at the scales in her palm like she couldn’t quite believe we had them.

“Finally,” she whispered. “After all this time.”

Before I could ask how long that was, exactly, Corinne slid the pointed tip of the golden scale under the band on her wrist. She gripped it tight, then flicked it upward.

The band stretched.

Suddenly all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. My lungs flattened in my chest, and I struggled to hold my mug in hand. The air all seemed to be drawn toward Corinne; she tipped her head back and her silvery hair fell like a waterfall. Then, she exhaled, and the air rocketed back, filling the cavern and bringing my breathing back to normal. But now, the air crackled with power, power stronger than Draunar’s but lighter, too, like stardust dancing all over my skin. I blinked, dazed, unsteady on my chair.

Corinne was glowing. It was faint, barely noticeable, but there it was. A pale white glow emanating from her skin, her eyes, her hair. She looked lighter in her body, like gravity couldn’t quite touch her.

“Ah,” she sighed, in her voice newly bright and musical. “Oh, it’s been so long.”

She was the Fae queen. It was easy to forget that truth when we were scheming and plotting like jailbreakers. But now her power was laid out in front of me. It was undeniable.

It was frightening.

“Eat,” she said again.

I turned back to my breakfast but found I’d lost my appetite.

“Once you are energized and dressed, we’ll begin the spell preparations,” she said. “We have everything we need now.” She took the emerald scale in hand and smoothed her thumb over the surface. “I feel good. With your assistance, we should be able to open a portal without any trouble.”

“We’ll be able to get to Frasia then, right?” I asked. “We’ll both be safe there. We can regroup there and make our plan of action.”

“Of course,” she said. “I would be honored to be a guest in the Court of Nightfall.”

I drained my coffee, then stood up and nodded.

“You’re ready?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said. “I can’t say I’m exactly sure what this entails.”

“You’ll see,” she said. “Come.”

I followed her into the bathing chamber. In the center of the space, she spread her arms wide, tipped her head back, and sighed deeply. Her silvery hair seemed to move differently now that she had her powers back, gently shifting as if she was underwater, instead of weighed down flat. I watched her from a slight distance. She gazed around the bathing chamber, then nodded as if making a decision.

Corinne extended one dainty bare foot, placed her toe in the dirt, and then spun on her other foot in an elegant spin, using her balletic momentum to trace a perfect circle in the dust. Then she turned to face me, standing in the center of the shape with a gentle smile on her face.

“Step closer,” she said. “Just don’t break the circle.”

I stood right at the edge of the circle, my toes close to the marking in the dust. “Give me your hand,” Corinne said.

From her pocket, she withdrew the small knife—the knife I’d had under my pillow. The same knife I’d almost used to kill Draunar. I balked and folded my hands together in front of my body.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s like I told you,” Corinne said. “I need your help to open the portal.”

“Why the knife?” I narrowed my eyes at the blade. “I thought you only needed my presence, like when you had me shift to see if this would work.”

That small smile didn’t leave Corinne’s face. “That was just a way to see if you were connected to the earth-magic I need to access,” Corinne said. “Actually accessing it is different. Don’t worry, I only need a small amount of your blood.”

“Blood?” I asked. “What? Why?”

Corinne’s eyes narrowed with irritation briefly before she schooled her face back into a neutral expression.

“Blood is life force,” she explained as if she were speaking to a small child. “Your blood will allow me to easily tap into the earth-magic. I need to access all four major elements that make up this world in order to open the portal. Your blood is earth, the scale is fire, then water, and air.” She gestured to herself demonstratively. “Only by controlling the four elements can I manipulate them in order to open the portal. Think of it like weaving. I will pull strands from the tapestry you see around you, the world in which we live and speak now, and weave them into something different. The portal.”

“And the blood will help you do that?” I asked.

“Portal magic is a muscle,” she said. “One I haven’t exercised in many, many years. I need a little assistance to use it again. Now please.” She extended her hand.

I swallowed down my trepidation and placed my hand in hers. She tightened her grip around me, then raised the knife and slowly, carefully, pulled the blade across the flesh of my palm. I hissed at the sudden sting of pain, and tensed, but didn’t withdraw.

“Good,” she murmured. She squeezed my hand and turned it sideways, so blood dripped from the shallow gash on my palm onto the dust. Then she led me to walk in a circle, around the edge of the dust line, dripping blood onto it as I went.

“Earth,” she said when the circle was completed. “Step back.”

I did as she said, and pressed the linen of my loose robe to the wound to staunch the bleeding. Corrine’s eyes gleamed. She took the emerald scale in hand, smoothed her thumb over it, then snapped it in two. The sound was a shockingly loud crack, like a porcelain plate shattering. My eyes widened as blood oozed from the scale—not a lot, but a small amount, dark and rich, coagulating. It was more like an aloe plant dripping its dense innards than a wound, but the coppery-sharp smell was unmistakable. Corinne walked it in a circle as well, dripping the blood onto the circle.