Page 1 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

Q ueen Sparrow Meadowcroft walked the halls of an unfamiliar castle. She knew she was caught in a dream but was powerless to wake herself.

At first, she’d thought it was Castle Clarion, but quickly realized it wasn’t. These were not the stone walls she knew or the tapestries she recognized. None of the passageways were ones she’d traveled.

She kept walking, hoping something would change. The stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she wore a fine gown, and the weight of a crown pressed down on her head.

Shadows surrounded Ro, hovering just out of reach, moving away when she stepped toward them, slinking closer when she wasn’t looking.

They wanted her crown. She didn’t know how she knew that. She just did. She could hear the shadows as they pursued her, soft, sibilant sounds like snakes slithering through leaves. The shadows mocked her, laughing at her rising distress. At her efforts to escape them.

She walked faster, hoping to find a friendly face, but the farther she went, the more she understood she was alone in this weird palace.

Moonlight gleamed through the windows, illuminating a landscape that seemed barren. There was no village in the distance. No Whistling Sea, no mountain ranges. Just forest and darkness.

Shapes flew past. Not the Wyverns she’d come to know. Ragged, ghostly shapes that looked more like amorphous threats than winged allies.

Her foot passed through a draft of cold that made her jump. The shadows were getting closer. Her breath caught in her throat. She picked up her pace. She had to find her son, JT, or her aunt Violet so she could protect them. Or maybe Gabriel was nearby. Or Uldamar. They might protect her .

She broke into a run, her feet aching as her soles hit the hard stone beneath them, her lungs desperate for more air. Still, the shadows pursued her, closing in, whispering threats in her ears, their icy breath sending shivers down her spine.

A boom of thunder was followed by a crack of lightning. Instinctively, she jumped. Rain poured down, pelting the windows. A door appeared a little farther down the passageway. She ran for it, grabbing the knob, twisting, and pushing through.

She slammed it shut behind her and took a breath.

The room beyond was a vast space, lit by candelabras and the faint trace of moonlight that came through the rain-streaked stained glass windows.

The embers in a large fireplace added some warmth.

As her racing heart calmed, she looked around.

Books filled the room. Shelves and shelves of them.

She’d escaped into a library. A sense of peace came over her.

The shadows remained outside the door, waiting, but for now, she’d found refuge.

She stepped away from the door. Despite the flickering candles and the coals in the hearth that hinted at a living presence, cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust covered everything.

Her perception shifted, and she believed she was in Castle Clarion once again. But this was not any library she’d seen. Had it been kept from her? Why?

She walked the perimeter of the room, trying to read titles. Here and there, she could make out a letter or a word, but the more she concentrated on them, the more illegible the text became. Frustrated, she grabbed a book on the shelf and tugged at it.

It wouldn’t budge. She tried another. Then another. None of the books would come free.

Was this some kind of punishment? A library full of books she couldn’t read? Couldn’t even hold in her hands?

The air chilled, and a shiver went through her. She went back toward the fireplace. As she got closer, a comfy-looking chair appeared with a small table beside it. On the table was a steaming cup of cocoa and a book.

Although part of her felt wary, another part couldn’t imagine a better invitation. Flames danced over logs in the fireplace, no longer just embers. The heat felt so good. She sat in the chair and took a sip of the cocoa. Spiced, just the way she liked it. Slippers warmed her feet.

She picked up the book. Vibrant green cloth bound it, the cover stamped in gold and embossed with a tree whose roots and branches twisted into mirrored forms—light above, shadow below.

The title was in a language she couldn’t read, but as she studied the letters, they rearranged themselves and words appeared. The Red Tome of Caer Wyld .

She had no idea what that was. She traced the pattern of the tree, following a leaf through the branch and into the roots. The image was both beautiful and sad.

She picked a random spot and opened the book. The words were a jumble, making no sense. Until she turned a page and came across a poem.

When light’s devoured and night takes wing,

The bells of ruin soon shall ring.

The crown shall crack, the firelight wane,

The storm shall howl for blood and flame.

A path shall open, sharp as bone,

That leads unto the shadowed throne.

There must the hand of peace be shown,

Or none shall rise, and none atone.

Seek not the sun, nor trust the day.

The Caer Wyld will show the way.

What was the Caer Wyld ? Ro stared at the words, trying to understand them, but the harder she tried, the more the letters swam on the page, melting into one another, drifting and shifting until they were no longer readable.

The sense of loss struck her so deeply, she began to weep. As she did, a force thumped against the library door. The loud thump reverberated through the room, causing the flames in the fireplace to jump.

Clutching the book to her chest, she got up and looked for a place to hide. There was none. The shelves full of books were gone. The room was half the size it had been when she first entered.

The shadows had returned. Her pulse picked up speed. Another loud thump struck the door. Then another. The wood cracked.

She sucked in air.

And woke up gasping.

She sat up in bed. Moonlight streamed through the windows of her chambers. Rain drizzled down outside, nothing like the storm in her dreams. She tried to calm her breathing. Tried to slow her pulse.

Benny lay on the bed not far away. She pulled him closer, hugging him for comfort and to reassure herself that she was awake now. He let out a sleepy meow. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Well, there was plenty to be afraid of. Queen Anyka was proof of that.

But the dream was over. That threat was behind her. Or was it?

Still hugging Benny, she lay back down.

As much as she wanted to go back to sleep and forget what she’d dreamed about, she couldn’t. This was one of those dreams. One born out of her fae magic. One that wasn’t just a dream.

So what did it mean?

Bits and pieces of the poem floated through her mind. When light’s devoured and night takes wing, the bells of ruin soon shall ring.

Was Summerton light and Malveaux night? That seemed the most obvious answer.

Were the bells of ruin the war that was to come?

Seemed plausible. But what about a path shall open, sharp as bone, that leads unto the shadowed throne.

None of that made sense to her. What throne was the poem talking about?

Not the Wyvern, surely. There was nothing shadowy about a race that lived amongst the clouds.

Then who did that throne belong to?

Hard as she tried, she couldn’t come up with anything. Benny snuggled closer, his gentle purring lulling her busy mind.

She fell asleep before she found any answers.