Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“It wouldn’t matter,” Finn says. He’s gone pale beside me. “It’s not contagious.”
The nurse frowns. “Can you be sure?”
“I’ve seen this before,” Finn says. “We’ll make arrangements to take the sleeping ones back to Unseelie Court. I’ll be in touch with more information when we have it.”
“Are you sure it’s wise to move them?” I ask.
“Yes,” Finn says. “Being back on native soil is the best thing we can do for these children right now. Speak with their parents and whatever adults are caring for the orphans. Tell them to prepare to go first thing tomorrow.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Leta says.
Finn turns to me. “We need to go. The sooner we return these children to the Court of the Moon, the better.” He strides out of the infirmary without waiting for me to acknowledge his command.
“Finn,” I call after him. Leta’s eyes go wide, and I realize she probably thinks it’s strange that I’m using his given name. I ignore her and chase after him. He’s already at the stables by the time I catch up to him. “Finn, slow down.”
He hands me Two Star’s reins. “We need to go.”
“Why the rush? Tell me what you’re thinking—what you know.”
“The sleeping children are the first sign of a dying court. If we want to save them, we need to get them home to buy more time, and then we need to put someone on that damn throne.”
I open my mouth to object, then snap it shut again.
“We must reunite the crown, the power, and the throne. And do it as quickly as possible. We’re running out of time.”
“How?” I ask.
Finn takes a long, shaky breath. “I don’t have the answer, but I know who does.”
We find the others on the dining terrace when we return. Judging by the empty plates scattered about the table, they’ve just finished lunch.
“Back so soon?” Misha asks, sipping a glass of dark red wine.
Finn shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. His jaw is hard and his silver eyes glitter with rage. “You didn’t tell me about the sick children.”
“There are sick children?” Pretha asks. Worry twists her mouth.
“Yes,” Finn says.
Misha’s eyes go wide. “I wasn’t aware that you needed detailed updates about what’s happening at the settlements, Finnian. Children are frequently unwell when they come to us, and then, after that, they fall ill from time to time, as children sometimes do. I will have Leta keep a log for you if you like.”
“This is different,” Finn snaps. “Surely you must have thought it was odd enough to mention.”
“Someone explain,” Pretha says.
Misha sighs. “Odd, yes, but it was no secret. We don’t know what’s wrong with them. It’s like they’re sleeping, but they do not wake. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I have,” Finn says.
Misha’s gaze snaps to him. “When?”
“Twenty years ago, when Oberon was locked in the mortal realm and Mordeus declared himself king of the Unseelie Court. Children started . . . falling into what we called the Long Sleep.”
“I remember,” Pretha says. “They looked so peaceful, but they were locked in stasis.”
“I never heard anything about this,” Misha says.
“We didn’t speak of it,” Finn says, his voice low. “We kept it quiet.”
I step forward and catch Finn’s eye. “If you’ve been through this before, then you know how to help them.”
Finn shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. Children are the future of our court. They are the sign of all the good things that are to come, so when a court is dying, it hits the children first.” He turns to Pretha. “We were so busy celebrating that Sebastian couldn’t take the throne that we didn’t stop to consider the cost of it remaining unoccupied.”
“Mordeus ruled for twenty-one years,” I say. “No one has sat on the throne in all that time. Why is this happening now?”
“It’s true that the throne has been unoccupied since my father was locked in the mortal realm,” Finn says, his gaze focused on some distant point. “But there was less than a year between the time when Mordeus took over the rule and the golden queen cursed the Unseelie. During that time our court withered and weakened and scores of children fell into the Long Sleep, but then the queen’s curse ironically reversed our course. That curse made her weak, and that weakness brought a sick sort of balance between the courts.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand what one has to do with the other.”
Misha lifts a hand and summons an hourglass filled with sparkling grains of sand, turning it on its side and balancing it on his palm. The grains settle to the new bottom of each half. “Imagine this hourglass as the Seelie and Unseelie courts. The grains on each side represent the courts’ power. There is most peace and calm when the two sides are balanced.” He shifts his hand from side to side, and as the glass moves, the sand shifts from one side to the other. “There’s room for some temporary imbalance, but if the imbalance is too great”—he tilts the glass to a more dramatic angle and the sand starts flowing to the other side—“one side can end up with everything and the other with nothing.”