The Lost Queen (Book 1 of The Lost Queen Series)

Chapter Forty-Two

Seraiah found herself standing at the foot of a young woman's bed. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at Ariya. The girl in the bed was a pale imitation of her good friend.

Dark bruises threatened to engulf Ariya's sunken eyes, which were shut tight—whether in sleep or pain, Seraiah wasn't sure. Ariya's once glossy hair was now lank and matted, pieces of it sticking to her sweaty forehead. Even under the heavy blankets, Seraiah could see Ariya had lost weight.

She stepped around to the side of the bed and took a seat at Ariya's side. When she reached for Ariya's hand, her friend's eyes snapped open. Startled, Seraiah pulled her hand back and sprang from the bed.

Could Ariya see her like Sterling had?

No.

No, Ariya's eyes weren't focused on her. They weren't focused on anything at all. Coughs racked her frail body, and she pressed a white handkerchief she'd been gripping to her lips. Seraiah watched helplessly, waiting for the fit to end.

Finally, the coughs subsided, and Ariya pulled the handkerchief away from her mouth. There was no mistaking the bright spot of red that had bloomed on the lily-white linen. Ariya had the fever, and by the looks of things, she only had days left to live.

Abruptly, the scene changed.

Now Seraiah found herself in the market—in Papa's stall, to be exact. Her father sat on a stool at the back. It was the stool where she had sat as a child, and then Sterling after her. As Seraiah approached, she saw deep wrinkles lined Papa's face, and his hair had lost most of its color. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the time since she'd last seen him.

Seraiah glanced around. It seemed to be midday, but there wasn't a single customer in sight. It was quiet. There was a larger number of empty stalls now than the last time she had been here—including the one next to Papa's.

Seraiah stared at the open space, not quite believing it.

Freya's stall was empty. There was no sign of her or her daughters. She didn't want to think about what that might mean.

Seraiah turned back to her father, and the scene dissolved before her eyes.

This time, the vision left her standing in a green field that was vaguely familiar to her. It was the daisies dotting the grass that jogged Seraiah's memory.

This was the field outside the woods. The one she'd traveled through with Kai and Kestrel on their way to Baromund.

But why would the dream bring her here?

Seraiah had her answer a moment later when an icy breeze tore her hair back from her face. She knew that smell—was intimately familiar with it after five years of winter.

Snow was coming.

Not a minute later, the flakes began to fall. The green grass beneath her feet wilted and browned. The daisies dropped their petals, and they too disappeared as a blanket of snow rapidly covered the ground.

It happened so fast.

In the blink of an eye, the lush field before her was a barren wasteland of ice and snow.

Seraiah sank to her knees in the white powder—not even feeling the cold biting at her skin. Her tears froze on her cheeks as she mourned what had once been here.