Page 147 of Crown of Darkness
And then the wine will be brought out.
Come midnight, everyone will sling off their cloaks, revealing gossamer gowns and tunics beneath, and the hedonistic part of the night will truly start.
This is our best chance.
The enormous oaks that guard the royal hunting preserve have been here for centuries. The Queen oak thrives in the heart of the forest, and some say it was planted by my mother herself when she bound herself to the land and took her naming rights as queen. Fae lanterns hang through the trees, illuminating everything in a soft glowing light.
It’s beautiful.
I spent so much time in these woods as a child, playing hide and seek with Andraste. We used to carve little notes to each other in our secret language in the bark of the trees—a map of sorts to the heart of the queen’s forest, where there’s a little cavern we claimed for the two of us.
And then my mother found the carvings and banned us from the woods, furious that we’d desecrated sacred trees.
“Is everything all right?” Finn asks, clearly picking up on my mood.
“Old memories.” I laugh a little at the irony. “They weren’t all bad.”
And maybe that’s the hardest truth to swallow, because all the good memories I have belong to those moments I shared with my sister when we were both children. Young. Carefree. Foolish.
I can trust her, can’t I?
Finn’s gaze slides over the gathering. “Looks a little solemn for my tastes.”
“That’s because nobody’s naked. Yet.”
“Yet?” The corners of his lips kick up. “Do tell.”
“We’re not going to remain behind to see,” I warn him. “One hour to get in and out. Don’t get distracted.”
“What could distract me?” His head turns as a lady in bright red shoots him a knowing wink.
“You’re right. Eris is not here.”
Finn shoots me a look somewhat akin to that of a deer catching the hunter’s scent on the breeze. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
The mask shields his face, but his glare practically incinerates me.
“Ladies!” someone calls with a laugh. “And lords. And all who dwell in between. Let us bring in the summer. Let us sing to the sun and beg her for a good harvest!”
Every inch of me stills.
Mother.
I’d expected her to be holding court near the barrow mounds, where an enormous fae-made pool of water reflects the moon. It’s her favorite place, deep in the heart of the queen’s wood.
This is a disaster.
Though, if she captures me, at least I won’t have to worry about the Mother of Night twisting me to her purpose or Angharad cutting the heart from my chest.
“Small wins,” I whisper to myself.
“Pardon?” Finn mutters.
“Nothing.”
“Let us bring in the summer!” a dozen other voices chorus.
