Puck turned a worried gaze on me. “Sure you wanna do this, princess?”
I felt Ash at my back, remembered his words, the look in his eyes, and felt no fear. “Yes,” I said firmly, facing the pool again. Ash had seen our future, a possible one, anyway, and it hadn’t stopped him. I needed to do this, to discover everything I could about my child, our son. “I’m ready,” I told the oracle. “Show me what you’ve seen. I want to know.”
“Then, come,” the oracle whispered, holding out a hand. “Step into the Dreaming Pool, Meghan Chase. Step into the pool, and I will take you to your son.”
I walked forward, expecting the sink below the surface, to wade out to where the oracle floated above the water. But the pool was only an inch deep, after all, because the water didn’t even come past my ankles, barely soaking the hem of my jeans as I walked out to the middle of the pool. The water barely rippled as I passed, maintaining its near-perfect glassiness even when my footsteps broke the surface. By the time I reached the oracle, waiting in the center, the pool had returned to absolute calm once more.
The oracle’s eyeless holes scanned my face. “Are you certain this is what you wish?” she asked, as if this was the last formal courtesy she had to get out of the way. “You cannot unsee what you are about to discover.”
“I’m sure,” I said.
She nodded once. “Then look down, Iron Queen. Look straight down, into the water.”
I looked down.
My reflection stared back at me, perfectly clear. I felt like I was standing on a piece of glass or a giant mirror, rather then the surface of a pool. But, then I stared past my image, past my head, to where the ceiling of the grotto should’ve been reflected in the water’s surface.
The brambly ceiling of the chamber now blazed with stars, and a full silver moon beamed down from a cloudless sky.
Startled, I looked up. The shadowy grotto had disappeared. A puddle still soaked my feet, but I now stood in the middle of a grassy field, gentle hills rolling away on either side. In the distance, at the bottom of a slope, fluffy white creatures moved through the grass like stray clouds, and their faint baas drifted to me over the breeze.
“Where am I?” I asked, turning in a slow circle. A hint of dust and decay abruptly caught in my throat and sent the sheep bolting over the hills in terror.
“The mortal realm,” the oracle whispered, appearing behind me. “Ireland, I believe it is called now. The birthplace of many of our kind.”
I was about to ask what we were doing in Ireland, when another scent on the wind made me stop, my heart jumping to my throat. It was faint, but I recognized it immediately; live through enough war and battles, and the smell becomes impossible to ignore.
Blood.
I followed the direction of the breeze and saw a lone figure several yards away, standing beneath the light of the moon. His back was to me, but I could see he was tall and lean, his loose silver hair gleaming in the darkness, tossed gently by the wind. He stood in the middle of a ring of toadstools, huge white bulbous things that formed a near-perfect circle around him.
As I approached, my heart began a strange thud in my chest. The figure didn’t turn around, his attention focused on the ground at his feet. As I got closer, I saw the sword, curved and graceful, held loosely in one hand. The blade and the arm that held it were stained with blood, dark streaks all the way past his elbow.
As I drew close, the figure turned, and I gasped.
I couldn’t see his face; it was blurry and indistinct, his features hidden as if in a fog. But I knew him; I recognized him as surely as I knew my own shadow, my own heartbeat. Bright, tall, achingly handsome, even if I could not see his face. I sensed piercing, icy-blue eyes, somewhere in the haze between us, felt him smile at me.
My son. This is my son.
And he was covered in blood. It stained his hands, his arms, was splattered in large streaks across his chest. My heart gave a violent lurch, thinking he was fatally wounded, dying perhaps. Was this what the oracle wanted to show me? Was this the grief she was talking about, the death of my child? But how could that be, when he was standing right there, and I could still feel his smile, directed at me?
Then I realized the blood was not his own.
And I saw what was lying in the grass before us.
The world seemed to stop for a moment. My legs shook, and I sank to my knees, unable to hold myself up any longer. No, this couldn’t be. This was a cruel joke, a nightmare.
A body lay at my son’s feet, sprawled on its back in the grass, gazing sightlessly at the moon. Another boy, my age perhaps, with messy brown hair and smoky blue eyes. A pair of short blades were clutched loosely in his hands, though the edges were clean. Blood pooled from a gaping slash in his chest, right over his heart, staining his once-white T-shirt nearly black.
I felt sick, and covered my mouth to keep from screaming. I’d never seen this boy, not like this, but I knew him. I recognized his face, his eyes, the tug on my heart. Though he was years older now, and had changed so much, I’d know him anywhere.
“Ethan,” I whispered, touching his arm. It was cold, sticky, and I yanked my hand back, shaking my head. “No,” I said, trembling. “No, this isn’t true. It can’t be.” I looked up at my son, who was no longer smiling, and I sensed his cold blue eyes, appraising me. “Why?”
My son didn’t answer. Sheathing his sword, he stared down at the body, and though his face remained hidden and blurred, I could sense tears running down his cheeks. A voice, low and soft, clear and high, filled with infinite possibilities, drifted over the grass.
“I’m sorry.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me shaking with grief and horror and confusion, staring at the lifeless shell of my baby brother.
“That is always the trigger,” the oracle whispered behind me. “No matter what your son chooses afterward, be it savior or destroyer, this scene is the catalyst that heralds the entire event. The death of Ethan Chase brings with it a storm unlike any Faery has seen, and in the eye of the hurricane stands your son.”
“This can’t…be his only future,” I whispered, unwilling to believe that my son was destined to kill my brother. “There have to be other paths, other outcomes. This can’t be for certain.”
“No,” the oracle said, almost reluctantly. “It is not the only path. But this is the future that is the most clear. And it becomes clearer with every passing day. Be forewarned, Iron Queen, your brother and your son are on a collision course toward each other, and if they ever meet, the fate of the Nevernever dangles in the balance. As do the lives of your family. But…I can stop it.”
I finally tore my gaze from Ethan’s body and looked at her. “You? How?”
The oracle’s eyes were pitiless holes as she watched me, the wind fluttering her clothes like old rags. “I offer a contract,” she whispered. “A bargain, for the sake of the Nevernever and your family. For all the lives it will save, including your brother’s.”
A cold hand gripped my stomach. I suddenly knew what she was going to ask, but I continued nonetheless. “What kind of contract? What do you want from me?”
“Your child,” she replied, confirming my hunch and making my insides recoil. “Promise me your firstborn son, and all the futures I have glimpsed with him will melt away. Your brother’s life will be spared, and the Nevernever will be in no danger, if you remove his string from the tapestry.”
“No!” The response was swift and automatic, without thinking. No way I was giving my firstborn son to this creepy faery. It was out of the question. But the oracle held up her hands in a placating gesture, claws glinting the moonlight.
“Think about it carefully, Iron Queen,” she whispered. “I know your initial response is to refuse, but think about the implications of your choice tonight. The fate of the Nevernever, and your human family, hangs on this one string. You are a queen of Faery—you have responsibilities now, to your subjects and your kingdom. It is your duty to protect them, from all threats, whatever form they wear. If this was not your son, if this was a random stranger threatening the future of the Nevernever, of countless lives, would you not choose to stop it?”
“But it’s not a random stranger,” I said in a shaking voice. “It’s my child. Ash’s child. I can’t do that to him.”
“You are his queen,” the oracle went on. “He will understand, and he will support any decision you make, regardless if he agrees or not.” She held out a hand, her voice earnest. “I promise you, Meghan Chase, your son will want for nothing with me. I will be like a mother to him. He will grow up unaware of his true heritage, far from the courts and any influences they might have over him. He will be safe, and he will never grow into the threat you saw tonight. That is my offer, and my solemn vow. So, Meghan Chase…” She drifted closer, her hollow gaze burning into me. “The fate of your world hangs on this reply. What is your answer? Do we have a deal?”
I closed my eyes. Could I do this? Give up my son, to save the Nevernever? Was I being selfish, dooming everyone to chaos and destruction, if I refused? And what of my family? My brother, the one who had started the entire adventure, in a way. I’d do anything to keep him safe. Just…not this.
I clasped my hands in front of my face, thinking, and my fingers pressed against something cool and hard. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my hand. My ring sparkled in the moonlight, gold and silver, reminding me of its twin and the knight it was attached to.
Ash saw his future, I thought suddenly. He saw our future. Or, one of them, anyway, when he was trying to earn a soul. Did he see this? Our son killing Ethan, destroying the Nevernever? If he did…
If he had…he hadn’t let it stop him. He had finished what he’d set out to do: he’d earned his soul, and come back to the Iron Realm to be with me.
“I trust you.” His voice echoed through my head, like he was right there, standing behind me. “I know you’ll do what’s best for our son. Remember, whatever the oracle shows you, no matter how bleak or terrible or frightening, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“No, it hasn’t,” I whispered.
The oracle wrinkled her forehead. “What was that?” she asked, frowning. “I did not hear you. Have you come to a decision, Meghan Chase?”
“I have.” I straightened my shoulders and stared her down. “And the answer is no, Oracle. No deal. I’m not giving up our son, because of a future that might come to pass. And you have some nerve, trying to force this decision on me without the father of my child present to hear it, as well. We’re a family now. Whatever happens, we will deal with it, together.”
The oracle’s withered, eyeless face crumpled with rage. “Then I am sorry, Iron Queen,” she hissed, floating back several paces. “If you will not accept my offer, you give me little choice. For the future of the courts, and all of Faery, you will not leave this place.”
I drew my sword, and the oracle hissed, raising her steely talons. “You gave your word,” I told her as she circled me like a dusty, ragged phantom, her hair writhing in the breeze. “You promised Ash and Puck that I would not come to harm.”