asked of me, always. I did everything the curse required of me. I got a fairy king to declare his love, and pledge himself to me. This was exactly how my brother’s curse had been broken, exactly what the Spring Queen wanted.
So, why didn’t it work? It had felt like it had been working. But now I was in the Land of the Dead.
But I wasn’t dead.
I couldn’t be…could I?
No. I was not accepting this fate.
And to do that, I had to conquer my shock, get out of this macabre field.
I moved at last, rushing away from the wandering souls until I crossed some kind of ethereal border, and entered a darker stretch of land.
The ground seemed carved from obsidian, stretching as far as I could see like an inverted night sky sprinkled with stars. But there was no sky here, only an encompassing dome of darkness and desolation.
A path embedded with raw gems eventually appeared before me, and giant, glowing crystal stalks lit my way. Their brightness was being sucked ahead, and soon I saw where it poured. Into another river, a bright, lulling green this time, with whispering poppies growing on its banks. This had to be the River of Memory.
It led somewhere deeper into this surreal realm, the flowers growing in number as I followed its stream, as if they were directing me into the unseen depths to my predestination. I thought I could make out the outline of a mountain in the distance, with a cavern in its side. But as I approached, it looked like some kind of edifice, mind-boggling in size…
“Fairuza?”
I stopped with a gasp, thinking the worst, that a psychopomp had come to collect me to my allotted afterlife.
But there was no black-winged man, or a hooded figure bearing a scythe awaiting me. There was only something, someone climbing out of the river. A girl.
No older than me, she had wavy, red hair that brushed the backs of her knees. Or it would have been red if her entire form weren’t so faded, like a painting that had been left out in the sun for months.
Hazy as her features were, I would have recognized her anywhere.
This was Princess Ariane of Tritonia!
She’d been with me in Cahraman. From the day I’d arrived, to being one of the Final Five, to becoming Nariman’s hostage in the palace for months, until we attended the joint weddings of my uncle and aunt, King Darius and Princess Loujaïne.
And here she was, in a worse condition than mine, up to her knees in that eerie river.
But what if this wasn’t her? What if this was some sort of apparition?
Though, why would something appear to me as her? Being a princess, she’d been the only one I’d considered worthy to be pitted against me in that infernal contest. When we’d both lost, I’d thought she’d sail back to her island to marry some oligarch. I hadn’t paid her any thought since. There was no reason anything should manifest as her to me, now of all times.
In trepidation, I floated away. “Ariane? Is it really you?”
She waded closer, encased in the faint glow of her white peplum gown, her ethereal green eyes having no pupils. Her mouth, a mere outline now, quirked in a sad smile. “What’s left of me.”
The horror of confirmation spread within me, rustling my nerves like wind through leaves. “You…you’re dead.”
“No need to rub it in.” She jerked her chin in my direction. “Looks like you are now, too.”
I furiously shook my head. “No. Not yet. I still have time.”
“If you’re not a shade, then what are you?”
Shade. That’s what she was. Less than a ghost.
“What happened to you?” I whispered.
Ariane’s monochrome eyes somehow managed to convey more heartbreak than I could have imagined. “I made a mistake, but I fixed it. I think. And now I’m here.”
“What mistake?” When she only shook her head, I tried another question. “Ariane, how long have you been here? When did this happen?”
“That depends. I believe it’s still summer now, isn’t it?”
Summer? No, it was spring. But…
Faerie! Time moved differently in Faerie. And if it was already summer, then more time than I thought had passed. I didn’t have any longer to waste, not before I ended up like her.
I reached for her, hoping that our similar states would make us tangible to each other, that I could pull her out of that river.
My fingers barely made contact with her arm, but I still urged, “Come with me, tell me