Page 60 of The Queen's Box

The Willow-on-the-phone didn’t pause. Her voice was rushed, breathless, full of certainty. “Amira, though. Have I told you about Amira? She’s incredible. Cole and the sisters don’t understand how much good she’s doing. For Hemridge. For all of us.”

She laughed, almost giddy. “The loss of a child... the loan of a child... in exchange for peace and prosperity? How can they not see that it’s more than a fair trade?”

Watching the vision as a spectator, Willow felt ill. Juniper must have sensed the falseness of phone-Willow’s words as well because she scrunched her nose skeptically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said uncomfortably. “And also? You sound like you’ve joined a cult.”

“What? No!” Willow-on-the-phone protested. “Amira is teaching me so much. Like, do you know about sprites? And changelings? And how powerful it is when a human child is transported to Eryth?”

Willow—the real Willow sitting in Amira’s glimmer-strange house—felt a sizzle in her brain. “Eryth,” she whispered.

With that, she fell back into herself with a jolt. The world around her reassembled. The dim glow of candlelight, the scent of books and herbs, Cole’s reassuring presence.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart thumping wildly. How much time had passed? Hours? Days? The visions had been so vivid, so consuming... although already, certain details were slipping away.

“You fell very far,” Amira observed.

Too far. Willow reached for Cole’s hand, needing him to ground her. His palm was rough and warm and reassuring. He stepped closer to the chair she sat in, like a sentinel standing guard.

Annoyance flashed over Amira’s features, though she masked it quickly. Her gaze bored into Willow. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Willow shook her head in confusion. Her brain was nothing but cotton candy. She squeezed Cole’s hand, then let go. She stared at her upturned palms. She flipped them over and frowned.

“Was I here all along?” she asked. “But if I was here and not elsewhere... Did none of it happen?”

“None of what?” Amira asked.

The hunger in her tone set off warning bells, pulling Willow farther out of her trance state and more firmly back into reality.

“I saw my sisters,” she said. She watched Amira’s face. “You told me to.”

“Did I?”

“They were older than they really are. So was I.”

“But before you saw your sisters, you saw Eryth,” Amira said. “Yes?”

Willow dimly recollected shimmering trees and a silver-threaded sky. She retrieved the images as best she could, telling Amira and Cole of Eryth’s strange, lush beauty.

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “And thisEryth. It’s, what? The Big Rock Candy Mountains of some magical faerie world?”

“It is. Yes,” Willow said. “And it’sreal, Cole. I know it is.”

Cole twisted his lips and looked away uncomfortably.

Willow went on, describing with awe the jewel-toned serpents that slipped from the forest like fog.

“Duskwyrms,” Amira said reverently.

“Duskwyrms,” Willow repeated. She described the one serpent that was wounded and how she’d wanted to help. How the wyrm had looked into Willow’s eyes and wordlessly begged for her help.

“No,” Amira said. “The duskwyrms are stunning but sly. It is no wonder you fell for their tricks.”

Willow stiffened.

“Duskwyrms are not fragile, though they may pretend to be,” Amira continued. “Perhaps it was a ruse. A glamour of sorts.”

“I don’t think so,” Willow replied. She recalled the duskwyrm’s naked plea and shook her head. “No, I’m sure it wasn’t.”

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