"What is this spell that what's-her-name—"

"Nicolette," Luke said, accepting a glass of water from Maura.

"Right. What's this spell that Nicolette was talking about? And the queen's legacy. What does that mean?" She pulled out a chair and slumped into it, folding her arms over her chest as she gazed at the two faeries sitting across from her in her mother's kitchen. "Did I mention how much I hate riddles?"

"Now we understand my mother's obsession with you," Luke said. "It's not just your essence she wants. You must be the key to undoing the spell."

"But if I'm the key to undoing the spell, why does she want to get rid of me?"

"Perhaps she doesn't wish to break the spell," Evelyn said after several moments of silence as they contemplated the question.

"But that doesn't make sense," Maura said. "In fairytales, spells are meant to be broken. Who wouldn't want that?"

"Maybe someone who stands to lose everything," Evelyn replied. "Whatever meaning the queen found in Nicolette's words, she felt threatened by it."

Maura watched Luke purposely tip his glass on its rounded bottom, almost, but not quite, spilling the water over the edge of the rim. "No," he said. "She felt threatened by Maura."

"But why would Siobhan—the queen of all faeries—feel threatened by me?"

"Siobhan is not descended from royal blood," Evelyn said. "You are. Siobhan was made queen by the consent of the people, but it is your birthright. It is your legacy."

"My legacy . . ." Maura echoed, closing her eyes momentarily. She shook her head, attempting to clear her muddled thoughts, and sat up straighter. "Shouldn't that right belong to my father?" she said. "If anyone dethrones Siobhan, shouldn't it be him?"

"We are a matriarchal society," Evelyn said. "Our rulers have always been queens."

"Well, that's very progressive of you all," Maura said. She laughed and put her head in her hands, taking deep, measured breaths. Finally, she said, "I will help you figure out Nicolette's prophecy, but I am not becoming queen of anything."

**********

Siobhan tossed and turned fitfully in her sleep, entangled in memories from the past.

"The prophecy is not wrong," Deidre said with an air of maddening superiority. "The Otherworld is not your world. You have a part to play, yes, but you do not belong here. You will never belong here. In time, the prophecy will come true and all will be set to right."

Siobhan stood tall, shoulders back. She refused to be cowed. "When I am queen, Brendan will bow down to me. He will give me the love I desire."

Deidre shook her head, a small smile on her lips. She was almost laughing. "That is not love, child. That is servitude. Master and slave. A queen must understand the difference."

Enraged, Siobhan threw herself at the woman. Deidre fell to the bed behind her and did not resist, which both surprised and angered her even more. She held a pillow over the queen's face, pressing with all her strength until the other woman's body went limp. She lay across the queen's lifeless form, panting with exertion, every part of her trembling. Then, very calmly, she arranged the queen as though she were sleeping, tucked the pillow under her head, and walked silently from the room.

Sleep did not find Siobhan that night. She was alone in her chamber when the cry was raised. Heavy footsteps thundered through the castle, and it seemed like an interminable amount of time had passed before Brendan entered her room, his beautiful face drawn and even paler than usual.

"The queen is dead," he said, his eyes wide and clouded with shock and grief. "My mother is . . . gone." His mouth was open, though no sound escaped.

Immortal did not necessarily mean everlasting. Though faeries lived long lives free from decay, they were not immune to death. The consensus was that Deidre had died from a broken heart, from watching Brendan's father turn to dust only a short time earlier.

"Oh! My love." Siobhan held open her arms and he went to her at once. It had been ages since she had held his head against her chest, since she had stroked her fingers through his copper hair. She looked twice his age now, and his flattery and attention had waned until it was almost non-existent. "My darling," she said, caressing his cheek. "How my heart aches for you."

"I have lost them both," he cried, his tears wetting her shoulder. "Both my father and mother. I am all alone now."

His words stabbed her heart. After all they had been through together, after all she had given up for him. "You are not alone," she cooed. "You have me. I will be your queen. I will be your everything."

Brendan pulled back and looked at her, like a child searching for guidance. His eternal youth both confused and scared her. How could they recapture the passion they had once shared when his skin was smooth and she bore the lines of age around her eyes?

"You wish to be queen?" he said.

"If not me, then who? I cannot return to the mortal realm now. It has been too long since I lived among humans. I find them peculiar and unsettling."

Brendan stepped away and touched his fingers to his brow. Doubt and confusion twisted his features. "But—"

"Your mother, the queen, spared me once before," Siobhan said. "This is what she would have wanted."

He said nothing for a while but then nodded slowly. "Yes," he said without meeting her eyes. "Yes. I believe you are right."

So Siobhan was made a faery queen, and Brendan served at her side for centuries collecting Essence.

But he didn't love her.

At least not enough to stay.

Siobhan's eyes fluttered open. There was a tightness in her chest and her cheeks were wet. She had been crying in her sleep. She didn't often dream of the former queen or Brendan, but when she did, the dreams left her feeling shaky and on precarious footing. The truth was that she hadn't been on solid ground ever since she learned about that infernal girl's existence.

Maura.

How could she despise with such raging intensity something that came from the man she adored?

Deidre had never known Maura. Because of Nicolette and her riddle, however, the former queen had foreseen her existence. The prophecy made no sense to Siobhan. Listening to Nicolette's prattling over the years was like trying to piece together a puzzle with an infinite number of parts. But Deidre had realized. She must have known all along. She had accepted the faery's words as truth. She had been able to see a path that had been dark to Siobhan all along. Nicolette's knowledge and Deidre's faith in what the future held in store for their kind blazed their way through the centuries, but Siobhan had tripped and stumbled along with nothing more than a guttering candle, unable to see the truth until it was directly upon her.

But she was queen! She would not let anyone take that from her now, not when it had cost her everything.

Siobhan rose, heedless of the pain still in her head—why had Luke given her a sleeping concoction instead of something to relieve the pounding?!—and marched down the hallway to Brendan's room. She stopped just outside the door. He and that woman—Rachelle—were sitting on the bed, heads pressed together, hands clasped. That should have been her. Why wasn't it her?

The pair looked up when she cleared her throat. The girl's mother was so ordinary. What had Brendan ever seen in her?

Now that she was there, and they were staring at her expectantly, she didn't know what to say. How could she admit that she still loved Brendan, that she loved him more than life itself?

"Maura is the rightful heir of The Otherworld," Brendan said before she could speak. His words were cold and accusatory. "That is what Nicolette prophesied. That is why you are after my daughter."

Siobhan raised her chin. "How do you know about the prophecy? Deidre never breathed a word while she was queen, nor did I."

"Actions speak louder than words. You sent Nicolette to the labyrinth. You would not have done so if you had found what she had to say agreeable. When you spoke Nicolette's name today, I finally realized the truth. I finally realized just how devious and cold-hearted you are."

Siobhan clenched her jaw, unable to respond at first. And then: "Why should your daughter inherit this kingdom when I have been the queen for centuries? She is just a girl!"

Brendan stood. "You were just a girl, too."

Siobhan touched her cheek as though she had been slapped. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I was just a girl. A naïve and foolish girl who was madly in love with a boy who was once madly in love with her!" She dropped her hand and glared at him. "But that girl is dead, and I am the queen!"

"What makes you think Maura even wants to rule a kingdom?" Rachelle asked.

"It does not matter what Maura does or does not want," Siobhan said. "All of The Otherworld will bow to her once they learn she is their true queen."

Rachelle smiled, as though she had learned a secret. "And that terrifies you, doesn't it? The fact that you are replaceable."

Brendan placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Please don't. She is not worth your time." To Siobhan, he said, "My family and I were at peace. You had everything you wanted."

"Not everything," Siobhan said before she could stop the words. Her admission seemed to have little effect on Brendan, though.

"You believe Maura is a threat, but she is not. And now look at you. Look what you have become. You are the shell of a queen, too weak now to sustain our people. You are the real threat, Siobhan."

When she did not respond, he took a step closer. "Tell me," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Exactly what did the prophecy say? What did Nicolette foresee?"

*****

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