"Foolish girl!"

Retribution was swift, though not unexpected. Evelyn cradled her cheek, blinking away the tears suspended on the edge of her lashes. They were not tears of pain, though, nor were they tears of sadness or shame. They were nothing more than an involuntary reaction, summoned by the queen's wrath.

Siobhan stood with her back to Evelyn, bloody hand braced against the table on which the bouquet of stinging nettle she had used as a weapon now lay scattered. Her shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. Evelyn knew not to speak until her queen bade her do so.

"Tell me again what happened," Siobhan demanded, her voice calmer now, her rage tempered.

Evelyn drew her hand away from her cheek. There was blood on her fingertips, which she curled into her fist. No matter, though. The physical wounds would heal quickly enough. "Maura has taken an interest in another boy."

"But how is that possible?" the queen questioned through her teeth.

Evelyn knew exactly how that was possible and suspected the queen did, too. Luke had betrayed them. If he had only done what was required of him . . .

"What can I do?" Siobhan muttered, her words barely audible.

Evelyn blinked, unaccustomed to offering counsel, at least when it actually mattered. "My queen?"

Siobhan turned slowly to face the handmaiden, though her eyes remained fixed elsewhere. Malnourishment had begun to take its toll. Evelyn could collect every variety of herb in the mortal realm, as well as The Otherworld, but none could heal her queen.

She needed more Essence.

"I should have taken her years ago," Siobhan said. Her mouth hardened, her pale lips blanching white. "Sentiment will be my downfall."

"There is still time," Evelyn replied, taking a cautious step toward the queen. "This boy," she continued. "He is but a mortal boy."

There was silence, and then:

"A mortal boy. Yes."

"And mortal boys are fragile."

"So fragile." Siobhan's eyes, which gleamed ice blue and cold with malice, flicked to Evelyn. "The boy must be dealt with, do you understand?"

Evelyn nodded her enthusiasm, relieved the queen seemed to be regaining her senses. "Yes, I do."

Siobhan turned toward the table once more, effectively dismissing the handmaiden. As quietly as Evelyn had slipped into the queen's private chamber, she turned to go. When she was at the threshold of the door, however, Siobhan called to her.

"Yes, my queen?"

"When I say that the boy must be dealt with, I mean for good."

Evelyn nodded again, though the queen did not see, and quietly closed the door behind her.

**********

The door closed softly behind the handmaiden, and the queen's breath rushed from her body in ragged exhalations. She stumbled toward the bed and collapsed upon the mattress, gripping the coverlet in her fists and closing her eyes against the ever-present throbbing in her head.

It had been less than two weeks since her last infusion of Essence, and already she was weak. In the beginning, when her reign as queen was still in its infancy, one girl could sustain her and all of The Otherworld for nearly twelve moons. But now her strength was dwindling at an alarming rate, as was her power. She must have Maura!

Siobhan rose and went to her dressing table where she poured a glass of wine from the ewer, the contents sparkling like liquid diamonds. She brought the pewter cup to her lips but did not taste the sweetness as it lingered on her tongue. Instead, it slithered down her throat, threatening to choke her.

She had heard the murmurings of fear and discontent among her subjects, of course. She had heard them questioning why she did not simply take another girl. Did she no longer care for them? Was her pride that great? What they did not know is what the Oracle had revealed. Besides, it was too late to choose another girl, even if she had a mind to. Time, what she had once thought endless, had become finite. Her son, whom she had once thought loyal, had become her enemy.

Rage welled inside Siobhan's chest and she hurled the pewter cup across the room with brutal force. It hit the door and clattered to the stone floor, darkening the walls. The door opened and one of the queen's guards peered inside. "My lady?"

"I am fine," she said in response to his unasked question, though even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. "The cup slipped from my hand, that is all."

The guard's eyes went to the cup on the floor, and then to Siobhan standing on the other side of the room. She squared her shoulders against the doubt in his eyes. "Of course, my lady," he said, and hastily pulled the door closed once more.

Siobhan strode across the room to retrieve the cup. Oh, how she rued the day she ever met that boy! "Brendan." She said his name aloud with loathing. How naïve she had been as a mortal girl, how susceptible to the pull of love, promises, and faery magic. She thought his adoration had been real. But now look at what had become of her: alone, without love or child, queen of a dying empire, all hope nearly lost.

Restless, Siobhan began pacing the room. The Oracle said Maura would an end to the queen's legacy. She couldn't let that happen! She would not risk her throne to a mortal girl.

She sank to the bed once more, hand to her chest as though to keep the fractured pieces of her heart in one piece. Lucas, the child she had loved for eternity and raised as her son, had cut her to the quick with his betrayal.

There could be no forgiveness.

*****

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