Page 68

My eyes flutter as I repeat, “Answer me,” the siren is heavy in my voice.

She draws in a deep, stuttering breath. “Some of the babies in the royal nursery are the children of the sleeping warriors.”

“The women in the glass caskets?” I ask.

She nods. “They are unlike the other children under our care,” she continues. “They are …peculiar.”

Fae in general were peculiar; I can’t imagine what an oddity among the fae looked like.

“Peculiar how?”

Gaelia begins to openly weep even as she answers, “They are listless, almost catatonic at times. They don’t sleep, they just lay in their cradles, their eyes focused on the ceiling. The only time they do anything at all is when, is when …” She touches the bruises on her chest, “they feed.”

Her fingers curl around the neckline of her blouse, and she pulls down the edge of the material. I lean in to get a better look. Beneath the material, extensive bruising covers her chest. Among all the dark discoloration are strange, curving cuts.

Bite marks.

I rear back at the sight. Now that I’m looking, I see the little puncture marks where their teeth split Gaelia’s flesh.

“And when they feed,” she adds, “they prophesize.”

Prophecy. Even earthhas supernaturals that can prophesize … but children prophesying? Thisispeculiar.

Not to mention the fact that said children aregnawingon humans.

“How old are these children?” I ask.

Gaelia is beginning to rock in her seat, holding her arms close to her. “Some are as old as eight,” her lips tremble over each word. “The youngest is less than three months.”

“And which ones prophesize?”

Her eyes focus on something on the floor. “All of them.”

All of them?

“Even the three month old?” I ask skeptically.

Gaelia nods. “She speaks and feeds like the rest of them. She told me you and the king would come. She said, ‘Bare them no secret, tell them no truths, or pain and terror shall be your bedmates, and death the least of your fears.’” She releases a shaky breath. “I didn’t believe her. I hadn’t even remembered her warning until you mentioned you wanted to ask me some questions.” Her arms tighten around herself. “They all show me so many things, so many horrible things …”

“Is that normal?” I probe. “For a child that young to even be talking?”

More tears. “No, my lady. None of this is normal.” Gaelia’s shaking, which had died down somewhat, begins all over again.

“I don’t understand, what is so terrible about telling me this?” I ask.

She hesitates.

“You’re going to have to tell me, one way or another,” I say. “It might as well be on your own terms.”

She covers her mouth with her hand, her sobs beginning anew. I hear her whispering to herself, “Forgive me. Forgive me.” Her rocking has increased.

“Gaelia.”

Slowly her eyes move to mine, and she drops her hand from her mouth. “He doesn’t want to be found,” she whispers. “The children tell me he is making many plans. That he is wary of our king, the Emperor of the Evening Stars,” she says, her eyes moving to Desmond. “But that he fears no others.”

Des comes over now, placing a hand on my shoulder. Gaelia notices.

“He still needs more time,” she continues, wrapping her arms around herself once more. “He’s not unstoppable yet.”