Chapter 32
We find the Dead Queen in the tower of moths.
She’s standing with her back to us as she looks out the window toward the Spires to the south. Nalina is at her side, her face grave. She eyes us warily as we enter, but the queen doesn’t turn to acknowledge us.
Tristan kneels. “My queen, we have news.”
Nalina places a casual hand on the hilt of her sword. “Where have you been?” She shoots me an assessing glance. “I sent for you.”
Tristan stands. “My apologies. We were in the ruins, then the forest.”
Nalina raises an eyebrow. “Doing what exactly?”
Tristan bristles. “I don’t answer to you, Nalina.”
Nalina looks like she bit something sour, but she doesn’t press him further. The Dead Queen still hasn’t turned from the window. Next to me, I feel Hunter stiffen as he notices the rafters above us. Dead moths climb over each other, fluttering their wings and perching on old wooden beams.
“That’s … unnatural,” he whispers next to me.
Unnatural, yes. But I don’t miss the edge of awe in his voice. He’s learning, as I did, that nothing is as it seems in Annwyn. Inside the pocket of my red cloak, my fingers grip the little green book with the silver moth on the cover. So many moths, so many secrets.
Slowly, the Dead Queen raises one skeletal arm and points out the window, toward the mountains.
She isn’t wearing her long black gloves.
Her fingers are little more than bone, her arm made of mottled flesh, like the corpse she is.
I squint out the window. From this height, I can see what captured her attention.
Smoke rises from beyond the Spires, a surefire warning of the armies approaching.
“We know,” Tristan says. “The forest is responding. The animals and fae are fleeing.”
“They are wise to do so.” The Dead Queen’s voice rattles in her throat. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
Next to me, Hunter squares his shoulders, as if anticipating a fight. “We can’t run from them.”
Slowly, the queen shakes her head and turns toward us. “No, we cannot.”
“Why didn’t you send your legion of dead monsters to attack them?” Hunter’s voice is accusatory.
“I have.”
Hunter’s mouth snaps closed.
“If it were so easy to destroy the Fox Army, don’t you think we’d have won this war long ago?” The Dead Queen turns only halfway toward us. “My corpse wolves can’t keep legions out of Annwyn. They’re being slaughtered by the hundreds. I can’t spare any more.”
My eyes dart to Hunter. He opens his mouth to argue, and I shake my head. Thankfully, he restrains himself.
“So, what do we do?” I ask.
The queen turns toward Nalina. “We’ve been making plans in your absence.”
It’s no more than a comment, but I feel the implication within it. While we were distracted, Nalina was here with the queen, preparing for the worst.
“I’ll ready the villagers,” Nalina says. “Everyone who is able to fight will.”
The Dead Queen turns back toward the window. “I’ll call the wolves.”
Corpse wolves, she means. I’ve seen them in battle before, and I never wish to see them again.
“How long?” I ask.
Nalina squints out toward the mountains. “Three days, if we’re lucky.”
The midday sun streams into the tower, highlighting the moths above us. Their wings flutter like flower petals caught in a storm. White, orange, blue, green.
“That’s not all,” Tristan cuts in.
From the tone of his voice, I know what’s coming. He’s going to tell them he believes Hunter to be the Heir to the North, as impossible as that seems to me. I’ve known Hunter my entire life. Wouldn’t I have suspected if the shy boy who loved adventure novels was a secret king?
Nalina gives him a sharp glance, then eyes Hunter and me with suspicion.
The Dead Queen doesn’t respond, only waits. Her skeletal hand reaches up to grasp the silver moth necklace, like she used to do when she needed comfort in life. For a moment, my heart stills. Is it possible there’s still some small remnant of my grandmother in her?
Tristan’s voice is firm. “He knows.”
The phrasing makes me blink rapidly. Next to me, Hunter stiffens.
“How?” Nalina asks.
“He can see them. The fae. I had to tell him.”
The queen whirls away from the window. “That was not your place, Wolf!”
Tristan doesn’t shrink away. He doesn’t even flinch. “We came straight to you.”
“Wait,” Hunter interrupts. “You knew? You all knew?”
My heart thrums painfully in my chest. “I didn’t. I swear.” I reach out a hand to touch his elbow, but he shakes me off.
Tristan barely blinks at Hunter’s rising anger. “It was best to keep you in the dark.”
Hunter shakes his head violently. “No. It’s not true. You’re mistaken. I can’t be royal. I barely even have power.” He stammers. “I can hardly make my own light in the dark.”
“That’s because you’re not from Llwyn,” the Dead Queen says evenly.
My mouth falls open. This is nonsense. “Hunter and I grew up together in Caerwen Palace. Of course he’s from Llwyn!”
Hunter steps forward. “My father was from a noble house!”
“And your mother?”
“She …” Hunter’s words fade away.
I know what he must be thinking. No one knew her well. And she died before she could tell him her story. Hunter was another motherless child, like me.
Hunter’s face has gone pale. “My father said she was a poor village girl he met near the borderlands. He found her while collecting taxes for the King.”
Tristan’s expression is grave. “It appears that she was more than she seemed.”
The queen speaks. “Like many refugees from Annwyn, your mother, Rhiannon, kept her heritage a secret. Llwyn villagers aren’t picky about who shows up to help with the harvests.” She steps toward Hunter. “You forget that I knew Rhiannon. Quite well, in fact.”
Hunter’s face looks stricken. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m beginning to feel light-headed. This can’t be happening. It’s not possible. My eyes dart to the dead moths where they flutter above us, oblivious to the fact that my world is fracturing below.
The queen continues. “Your mother had no family left after the Llwyn raiders set fire to her village. She was the heir before you. The final descendant of the human kings who used to rule Annwyn before the Dead Queens took power five centuries ago.”
Hunter’s eyes are on the ground, his hand clenched over the copper fox on the pommel of his sword. “Did my father know?” he whispers.
The Dead Queen shakes her head slowly. “No. I don’t believe Malen ever knew about Rhiannon’s past. But I suspected. It’s why I sent Tristan to Llwyn. To find you.”
My ears are ringing. All this time, I thought the Wolf had been in the castle to find clues about a myth, the legendary Heir to the North. I never suspected it was real. That he was real. Especially not someone who I’ve known and loved my entire life.
Hunter shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong about me. About my mother.”
“I am not.”
Hunter glares at the queen. “Why would a woman who was terrorized by Llwyn go on to marry the commander of the entire Fox Army?”
“People do strange things in the name of survival,” Nalina says.
A thought hits me all at once. Grandmother was the leader of the Sympathizers before she became the Dead Queen.
She was a member of the Llwyn royal family through my mothers’ marriage to the Fox King.
She used her position to spy on my father.
Could there have been more spies in the court of the Fox King?
The little green book in my cloak pocket feels ten times heavier than it should, as if the weight of its secrets grows by the moment.
“Or …” I say, my thoughts whirring. “Maybe she didn’t marry Malen out of pure survival. Maybe she knew exactly who he was.” I turn to Hunter, my eyes wide. “Maybe she knew that by marrying your father, she’d be brought to the palace. To the king.”
“You think she was secretly a member of the rebellion?” Tristan asks, one dark eyebrow raised.
We both look to the queen, the former leader of the Sympathizers. She offers one curt nod of confirmation.
My fingers grip the book in my pocket. I shake my head. “No, she couldn’t have been. One spy in the royal court is outrageous.” My eyes dart to the corpse that used to be my grandmother. “Two would be impossible.”
“Impossible?” There’s a curious lilt in the queen’s voice. “You stand there in front of a dead queen and speak of impossibilities?”
“Hunter’s mother was married to the Fox King’s most trusted advisor. To the Commander of the Fox Army!” A bewildered laugh forces its way out of my chest.
“And my own daughter was the Fox Queen, however briefly.”
Words fail me. It’s true. As impossible and outrageous as it sounds, she’s right.
My mother, the Fox Queen, was the daughter of the leader of the Sympathizers.
A pang of regret stabs my heart. We should have had more time together.
She should have lived long enough to tell me everything herself.
But Father killed her. And here I am, listening to the story through the undead lips of a corpse queen instead.
“You have proof,” the queen says.
“I have proof?” I blanch.
She nods slowly. “Do you think I wouldn’t recognize that little green book you’ve been carrying around ever since Hunter arrived?”
I stiffen, my heart beating rabbit-fast. My hands stop fidgeting with the corners of the book in my pocket. How had I given away my secret without even knowing it?
“How did you know?”
“My eyes may be dead, but they don’t miss much, Fox Heir.”
“But there are millions of books in the world. How could you possibly know which one this is?” My fingers curl possessively around the book’s spine in my pocket.
There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says, “I could never forget it. I printed it.”
“Printed it?” Hunter’s words sound far away, like he’s speaking into a south-facing wind.
The queen walks slowly toward me. “Before either of you were born. Before my daughter married the Fox King and your mother was ensnared by the Commander of the Fox Army, I had a very different life.”
“We already know you led the Sympathizers.” Hunter’s voice is sharp and distrustful.