The Door Before by N. D. Wilson

Author:N. D. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2017-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

NIMIANE HELD THE CAT tight, stroking her blood-sticky fur, feeling the low, angry drumming of her inner purr.

She faced the healed tree, a cedar as mighty as any she had ever seen. A cedar that had swallowed children and had then sent up new branches as thick as galley masts, and had splintered stone beneath Nimiane’s feet with deep, worming roots.

Her men were all around, shifting quietly in the darkness, now that the fire arches had dwindled, waiting for a command from Nimroth’s ancient daughter. Every drop of Nimiane’s blackened blood itched in her veins, hot with anger. It would have burned its way out of a lesser body, but she had mastered the struggle of immortality long ago, when she had imprisoned her raving father and taken his many thrones.

“Queen.” The wizard who spoke was young and vain, still struggling to grow his downy blond beard. She listened to him throw back his cape and bow, but she did not look his way. “If you would allow us to burn the tree, or even set to it with axes, this could be ended quickly. We could fetch you this green man, kill the others, and be done.”

Nimiane extended her hand toward the wizard’s voice and beckoned him. His steps were hesitant as he approached, but no man here would ever defy her. When she felt the warmth of his life beside her, she let her fingertips gently find his face, his lips. And then she wormed a whisper into the young man’s mind.

Fool.

She drew his life into her as easily as breathing. His heat vanished, and then his breath. And last, his terrified thoughts. The man’s body, dry and ashen, collapsed beside her, brittle and rustling like leaves.

He had not been strong. Consuming him had been as satisfying as dipping her tongue in water when she had a thirst large enough for rivers. But it had been calming nonetheless.

Nimiane could have split the tree with one finger. She could have burned it with a word. But she didn’t need to. She knew there were no human lives inside it. There were no souls she could touch with her own. And the only trace of the young green man was on the ground at her feet, where vines lay coiled with trampled grapes.

The children were gone. And they had been by the time Bast had returned to her and she had found her way to the scene of the struggle.

Strangest of all, they were gone without any trace of magic. No spells tainted the air with their acidic taste. No ghostly vine fire had left trails on the tree.

She had waited. She had been patient. And still, she could sense no lives within.

—

HYACINTH WAS DREAMING. SHE was dreaming that she was trapped inside a tree, balled up in the bottom of a hole with Lawrence sweating on top of her, unable to straighten her legs, raise her arms.

She was barely able to breathe.

“Wake up.” Someone was grabbing her shoulder.

Hyacinth jerked, trying to slap the hand away.

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