Nightmare

Dangerous

Then Rowan hugs me, and I bury my face in his shoulder and close my eyes, because the back of my eyelids is brighter than the gaping blackness of that hole. And I feel nothing. Except fear.

(+)

I hang on tight to Rowan, and I don't know if I should be embarrassed for showing such fear, but I don't care. My eyes stay shut and the wind around us whips my hair around and the coldness stings my skin.

I open my eyes once, and I come close to losing it. I let out a small scream, the darkness threatening to consume me.

But then we stop, and we're in a misty, cloudy clearing. But I can't move. Can't breathe. I choke, gasping for air. I finally get a breath into my lungs and I let go of Rowan, who I realize I have been clutching tightly.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"It's okay," he says and helps me up.

"So do we just keep going whichever way...?" I ask, but Rowan is focusing on something else.

Two figures step menacingly out of the fog. Shit.

Their ears are pointed and their hair is as dark as night. Their eyes are a shade of blue, and they look almost identical, though the woman is taller than the male. "Well, well," the woman snarls, "I thought you had gone to the mortal lands."

"That is none of your business," Rowan meets their gaze, subtly stepping in front of me. I can defend myself. Kind of. A little? "We have permission from the High Lady of Ice to pass through the Courts."

"Her permission is nothing now," the male spits. "The word of a traitor is worthless."

I stay quiet. "Traitor?" Rowan asks.

"Evangeline Samos, former Lady of Ice, is now marked as a traitor for evidence found in her bedrom drawer, and any sightings of her must be reported immedately," the woman recites.

"Why?" I dare to ask.

She looks at me and nudges her friend. "Ooh, look, a mortal. Been a while since I've seen one of them. I'd forgotten how they taste."

I can't tell if she's fucking with me or not.

Rowan meets her gaze and shakes his head, some unknown message passing in between them.

"Samos was found to be corresponding with the King of Hybern and giving his information on our armies," the male steps in.

"Hybern?" Rowan asks confusedly.

"Yes, the war--" the woman stops. "Where have you been the last thirty years, boy?"

"I was here two months ago?" Rowan asks, uncertain.

"That was thirty years for us," she affirms.

"So how does all this work exactly?" I start. "How old are you guys, even?"

"I'm four hundred and fifty-five, and he's my twin," the woman jerks her head to the quieter male.

"Okay..." I mutter. "How old are you, then?" I turn to Rowan, the twins watching with thinly veiled interest and amusement.