Song of Shadows

Chapter Four

Elain

I curl up tighter around myself, savoring the warmth of the female next to me. She eyes me warily from time to time. My... Lucien stands across the room, observing the city outside the sitting room window, but I know every sense is focused on me.

When I close my eyes, more visions and chaos assault me. I press my lips together to keep from crying out against the onslaught. My body seems very far away, but I fight to maintain control.

A menacing laugh from a pocket of darkness. Wings of white and black. A box of black stone. Dead, empty eyes in a sneering face. Feathers of flame against a bright blue sky. The crunch of bones and sinew. More white wings over a distant lake, a dark stone tower.

A woman screaming with rage against the bonds holding her while the others cry for help, for mercy. A male voice weakly calling Nesta's name. The flames can do nothing against the darkness as she is ripped into a new form. The screams of the dying as they are ripped to shreds. Human. A pool of blood in a bone-white castle across the sea. Flaming wings.

My eyes fly open with a faint gasp. Sweat pours down my face and back. Both Mor and Lucien turn to look at me, but the door opens before either of them can open their mouths. Cassian enters the room, cradling Nesta in his arms. Feyre enters directly behind them.

Once Nesta's feet hit the floor, she approaches the couch and sits next to me. She brushes strands of hair sticking to my face. All eyes expectantly turn to where my other sister and her mate stand in the foyer. They begin talking about the attack in the library, but I ignore the words. The images swirl around my mind, blending together until I can no longer tell the difference between reality and dreams or visions or whatever these are.

I feel my mate's gaze boring into me once more, but I refuse to meet his eyes. Azriel steps out of a shadow near the staircase, and every other thought vanishes from my head. Our eyes meet for a heartbeat, and I see determination and kindness in their hazel depths.

Mor begins speaking about the war and a lack of allies. Names of the denizens of the Hewn City catch my attention. Names Nesta told me when she returned from under that mountain.

"The queen may come."

My voice comes out so hoarse and distant. It unnerves me. Silence presses down on me as every set of eyes turns to me. Nesta lays her hand on my arm. Her voice is tight with repressed emotion. "What queen?"

Words pour out of my mouth unbidden once more. "The queen who was cursed."

Feyre turns to our sister. "Cursed by the Cauldron. When it threw its tantrum after you left."

I feel a spike of irritation flicker through me. How can they not see? I shake my head. "No. Not that one. The other."

Nesta's grip on my arm tightens. She tugs on my arm to take me back to the silent room upstairs. Azriel's eyes are intense as he looks at me. "What other?"

Feathers of flame. Cries of rage. A golden crown appearing as the sun sinks.

"The queen--with feathers of flame."

The shadowsinger cocks his head, but Lucien opens his mouth before anyone else can speak. "Should we--does she need ...?"

Another flicker of annoyance rushes through me. Why do they think I am crazy? Why do they think I need coddling, nurturing? How can they not see? I meet hazel eyes as the spymaster takes a step forward and the intensity in them floors me. He pushes my mate aside and approaches me. "She doesn't need anything."

My confusion must flicker across my face because Azriel offers me an encouraging smile. "We are the ones that need..." He trails off, as if he was speaking to himself, before our eyes meet once more. "A seer. The Cauldron made you a seer."