there where the Twelve Dancing Princesses went to dance, night after night, until someone broke their curse. It was more exclusive than any club she knew. There was no velvet rope, no doorman to persuade—you couldn’t even find the underworld unless someone wanted you there.
And now someone wanted her there.
No one she knew had ever been invited.
The underworld wasn’t a land of the dead, like in Greek mythology. It was simply a hidden place, a kingdom the fairies had carved out of stone and darkness so long ago that no one remembered who had done it. There, fairies and other inhuman beings could show themselves freely because there was no chance that a normal human would be present. The way there was a secret but most Cursed knew the underworld existed.
More silver words appeared on the card as Viv watched.
She glanced up at Night. His eyes were solid-black pools.
“How do I get there?”
“I’ll take you.” The horseman’s voice was deep, and once he’d spoken it seemed to drift away, like she’d imagined the sound.
Viv ran a hand through her messy hair, conscious of her skimpy pajamas and the sweat that coated her skin. “Do I have time to change?”
“We go now, or not at all.”
Light glimmered across the words:
Yes or No?
“Yes,” she decided.
At that the message faded. The invitation turned to dust and the branches that had adorned the card appeared on her arms: silver filigree stretching from elbows to wrists. The silver markings gleamed like the words had and were cool to the touch.
“What are these marks?” she asked, holding out her arms so Night could see them.
“This is your way in,” he said, taking her right arm. He grasped her left arm. “And this is your way out.”
Night stood there a moment, holding her arms at the wrists, his face betraying nothing. And yet, it was clear from the way he hesitated that something was wrong.
“So … is there a door?” Viv asked, starting to get nervous.
“There are many doors. This one is … inconvenient.”
“How inconvenient?”
“Hold your breath,” he said.
And then he picked her up and threw her in the well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIV DID NOT HOLD HER BREATH.
She screamed. Her fingers clawed at the slick stone walls, but she couldn’t grab on to anything. Night slid in after her and sank like a stone. Disappeared into the dark water, so she couldn’t feel him at all.
Until his hand closed around her ankle and he pulled her under.
Her last scream was swallowed by the water that flooded her mouth. She was choking, her head full of darkness. And all she could think was:
This was a plan of Regina’s
.
A trick
.
Regina knew witches—she could commission a magic invitation.
And maybe—
Hire a horseman.
She should have
known
.
This was—
The stupidest—
Way to die.
Viv felt herself being tugged down, down, down—and then someone was dragging her out of the water, across a bed of wet pebbles. Not out of a well. Out of … a lake.
She coughed, hacking up water. It all blurred at first—like lights seen through a raindrop-speckled window. Then the underworld came into focus. The silver trees with their knife-gleam branches. The faint, haunting music, like distant bells and snapping icicles. A sky that wasn’t sky but a dense mass of shadows.
Night laid her down on the lakeshore. His jet-black face was smooth and expressionless. Not cold, but inhumanly composed.
A man in a silver guard’s uniform came rushing over. His tinsel-colored jacket was like something a toy soldier would wear, but the sword he carried was real.
“She has to go through the checkpoint,” the guard insisted, sounding nervous—like he was uneasy talking to a horseman.
Viv turned onto her side to hack up more water and Night grabbed her right arm and showed it to the guard. “Check her here. I’m in a hurry.”
The guard muttered another protest, but did as he was told. He ran his eyes over Viv’s right arm, then touched his ring
And now someone wanted her there.
No one she knew had ever been invited.
The underworld wasn’t a land of the dead, like in Greek mythology. It was simply a hidden place, a kingdom the fairies had carved out of stone and darkness so long ago that no one remembered who had done it. There, fairies and other inhuman beings could show themselves freely because there was no chance that a normal human would be present. The way there was a secret but most Cursed knew the underworld existed.
More silver words appeared on the card as Viv watched.
She glanced up at Night. His eyes were solid-black pools.
“How do I get there?”
“I’ll take you.” The horseman’s voice was deep, and once he’d spoken it seemed to drift away, like she’d imagined the sound.
Viv ran a hand through her messy hair, conscious of her skimpy pajamas and the sweat that coated her skin. “Do I have time to change?”
“We go now, or not at all.”
Light glimmered across the words:
Yes or No?
“Yes,” she decided.
At that the message faded. The invitation turned to dust and the branches that had adorned the card appeared on her arms: silver filigree stretching from elbows to wrists. The silver markings gleamed like the words had and were cool to the touch.
“What are these marks?” she asked, holding out her arms so Night could see them.
“This is your way in,” he said, taking her right arm. He grasped her left arm. “And this is your way out.”
Night stood there a moment, holding her arms at the wrists, his face betraying nothing. And yet, it was clear from the way he hesitated that something was wrong.
“So … is there a door?” Viv asked, starting to get nervous.
“There are many doors. This one is … inconvenient.”
“How inconvenient?”
“Hold your breath,” he said.
And then he picked her up and threw her in the well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIV DID NOT HOLD HER BREATH.
She screamed. Her fingers clawed at the slick stone walls, but she couldn’t grab on to anything. Night slid in after her and sank like a stone. Disappeared into the dark water, so she couldn’t feel him at all.
Until his hand closed around her ankle and he pulled her under.
Her last scream was swallowed by the water that flooded her mouth. She was choking, her head full of darkness. And all she could think was:
This was a plan of Regina’s
.
A trick
.
Regina knew witches—she could commission a magic invitation.
And maybe—
Hire a horseman.
She should have
known
.
This was—
The stupidest—
Way to die.
Viv felt herself being tugged down, down, down—and then someone was dragging her out of the water, across a bed of wet pebbles. Not out of a well. Out of … a lake.
She coughed, hacking up water. It all blurred at first—like lights seen through a raindrop-speckled window. Then the underworld came into focus. The silver trees with their knife-gleam branches. The faint, haunting music, like distant bells and snapping icicles. A sky that wasn’t sky but a dense mass of shadows.
Night laid her down on the lakeshore. His jet-black face was smooth and expressionless. Not cold, but inhumanly composed.
A man in a silver guard’s uniform came rushing over. His tinsel-colored jacket was like something a toy soldier would wear, but the sword he carried was real.
“She has to go through the checkpoint,” the guard insisted, sounding nervous—like he was uneasy talking to a horseman.
Viv turned onto her side to hack up more water and Night grabbed her right arm and showed it to the guard. “Check her here. I’m in a hurry.”
The guard muttered another protest, but did as he was told. He ran his eyes over Viv’s right arm, then touched his ring
Similar Books
