When I was thirteen years old, Faerie slammed into my entire world and changed it forever.
Fourteen years later, similar scenes of carnage left imprints on my mind that would never fade. I closed the door on the manor I’d called home for the last few months, and on the bodies that nobody had yet returned to remove. A faerie had killed almost the entire mage council and captured the rest. A Summer faerie, judging by the marks I’d found on the bodies. And here I was, about to step into the Summer Court itself in a desperate gambit to save my lover from the hands of a murderous god, all the while hoping they wouldn’t slaughter me on sight for destroying a valuable possession of theirs in the name of thwarting said deity.
I hadn’t been known for making great decisions lately.
I hefted my backpack over my shoulders and adjusted the straps so that it wouldn’t hinder my ability to carry my sword. I’d packed everything I thought I might need for an impromptu visit to Faerie—spare clothes, food, water and even a sleeping bag—as counting on the Sidhe to provide decent hospitality was an even less wise decision than setting foot in their domain in the first place.
Guilt at abandoning my friends in a time of crisis gnawed at me despite my knowledge that there was little I could do to protect them from here. The mage council members were either dead or missing. The necromancers had no leader and were virtually powerless. The half-bloods had scattered, the survivors of Fionn’s latest scheme having been forced to leave their territory, and the last I’d seen of the Chief, he’d fled like a coward in the middle of battle and taken all his allies with him. One reliable leader remained in the whole city: Isabel, my best friend and leader of the largest witch coven in the area. She couldn’t single-handedly hold the entire supernatural community together, not with so many people dead or missing, so it was up to me to rescue the prisoners. And, if possible, talk the Sidhe into sending help. No pressure.
“They took Vance,” I’d told her over the phone while packing. “Fionn must have sent someone after the mages while he was occupied with the cauldron. I left him there, but I can’t guarantee he won’t come back while I’m gone. And if I don’t make it out—”
“You’ll make it back,” said Isabel. “We’ll be fine. We have hiding places if Fionn launches another attack. You concentrate on getting help from the Sidhe and rescuing Vance.”
“Got it.” There was another question nagging at me, however. “I worry about crossing between realms after Fionn already damaged the Ley Line. Have the necromancers reported any issues?”
“Yes, but nothing like the invasion,” said Isabel. “Rick told me that he and the other necromancers can’t cross into Death at all. From what he said, every time someone tries to reach the other side, it’s as though they’re completely blocked by some invisible barrier.”
“Weird.” The last time the realms had collided had messed up the spirit lines so badly that the dead had walked alongside the living, but this sounded like the opposite of the last invasion, if anything. Didn’t mean we were off the hook, though, and I’d never have left Isabel to deal with the fallout if Vance’s life hadn’t been at stake.
Fionn had hit me where it hurt the most. I wouldn’t leave Vance to die in Faerie. Never.
“You’d better go,” Isabel said. “Are you ready?”
“Hell, no, but Vance needs me. I’ll see you when I’m back.” A promise. I’d get Vance away from Fionn, no matter the cost.
Hmm. That’s probably not a good outlook to have if you want to get away from Faerie alive this time.
My nails bit into my palms, and fury rolled through me. My first experience in Faerie as a helpless human imprisoned by a callous Sidhe lord with a liking for torture had stripped away the child I’d been before and left a stranger in her place. Eleven years had passed since I’d escaped, but the scars remained as a constant reminder, and one that had ultimately forged me into someone who wouldn’t hesitate to walk back into that hell to save Vance.
Moreover, I had an awful lot to say to the Sidhe, who’d been at least indirectly responsible for all the faerie-related problems in my life. Two of them waited on the manor’s lawn, accompanied by Quentin, the brownie who served Vance’s family. I’d recently found out that the Coltons weren’t his only family—he had another master, in the Seelie Court, to whom he owed allegiance—and while he claimed not to have passed on our secrets to his second family, I didn’t trust him in the least. Not that I was in a position to be picky. He, and the two faerie knights waiting outside the manor, were my only route into Faerie.
Lord Raivan and his companion, Lord Burdock, sat astride their horses, wearing gold and green in the fashion of the Seelie Court. Like most Sidhe, their eerily stunning looks were smoke and mirrors, their inhumanity hidden behind beautiful masks designed to ensnare mortals. Summer might be known as the land of smiles and harmless mischief compared to the brutality of Winter, but I’d be keeping my sword, Helena, close at hand.
Lord Raivan hissed out a breath when his gaze caught on the iron dagger conspicuously attached to my weapons belt. I ignored him. I’d made it quite clear that I was the one risking my neck by going into a realm which was toxic to mortals. I’d take all the weapons I damn well wanted.
“Ready?” I asked. “Let’s go.”
“This is foolish,” said Lord Raivan. “You should have returned our property to us, human.”
“I told you,” I said, “Summer’s ring is gone, thanks to Fionn. You shouldn’t have taken your eyes off it in the first place.”
“You—”
“She has an audience with Summer,” Quentin said in his gravelly voice. “There’s no ignoring a direct order from the Court.”
Yeah, thanks, Quentin. I just hoped the slippery bastard wasn’t leading me into a trap. “How does this work? I just… follow you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “You have an invitation, so the faerie realm should let you enter without objection.”
“It better.” Under normal circumstances, only the Sidhe were able to travel from the mortal realm to Faerie, but I’d become an exception of sorts due to the magic I’d stolen from an exiled Sidhe lord. That magic came with access to the Grey Vale, a segment of Faerie to which the Sidhe sent their exiles, but permission to enter either of the Courts was rarely granted to a non-fae.
Whatever magical quirks I might possess, I was still a hundred percent human, and even a Sidhe lord’s magic would only go so far in a realm at odds with my very nature. Despite all I’d learned during my three-year captivity in a Sidhe’s castle, the rules that underpinned their realm remained shrouded in mystery.
As had become clear recently, I’d also been oblivious to some glaring secrets concerning the supernatural communities in my own realm. Like the fact that there’d been an alliance only a few decades ago between the Sidhe and the other supernaturals in the form of a council whose existence had subsequently been forgotten after most of those council members had died in the invasion. The only survivors had been Quentin, the Hemlock witches, and Lord Frank Sydney, the necromancer Guardian of Death’s gates. They’d secured me an entry ticket to Faerie, supposedly to attempt to fix whatever had broken in the invasion. As if rescuing the Mage Lords and persuading the Sidhe to offer a helping hand wasn’t enough responsibility to rest on one person’s shoulders.
The two Seelie knights turned on their giant horses as a flash of green light enveloped the lawn. Dazzling brightness blanketed my vision. My hand locked onto Helena’s hilt, the other gripping the iron dagger. A tingling sensation ran up and down my body like I’d stepped too close to the effects of a particularly powerful witch spell. Then, unfamiliar magic overwhelmed me, pressing against every cell of my skin, my body, my organs. Panic shot through my nerves like I’d plummeted fifty feet off a building, but I held still, focusing on the solidity of the sword in my hand, the familiar press of the hilt to my palm.
The pressure lifted and my vision adjusted, the green light dimming but not vanishing outright. We stood in a clearing of knee-deep grass, brighter than I’d ever seen in the mortal realm, and swaying in a breeze at the perfect temperature for a summer afternoon. Bright flowers bloomed in shades of purple and red so intense they burned my retinas. Wide, thick trees spread out enough to expose the perfect blue sky, the bright sun that bore no relation to the one back home. At once I regretted wearing a leather jacket, though its padded sides would offer some protection if something nasty came after me.
The two knights and their horses glowed even brighter here, surrounded by a green halo that reminded me most humans wouldn’t see half of what I did. Carrying a Sidhe’s magic had wrought permanent changes, including the ability to see through most glamour, but that didn’t change the fact that there were some parts of Faerie that no mortal could look at without losing their mind.
“Nice.” I released a breath, my heart racing in my ears. “Pretty. Where are the death traps and the man-eating plants? Do you save those for overly curious tourists?”
Lord Raivan narrowed his eyes down at me. “I would not advise you to speak to all our nobles with such disrespect. Our magic is at its full capacity here.”
“Yeah, I know that.” I’d hoarded information on the Courts during my captivity, learning from an old man named Gerry who’d been imprisoned in Avalin’s castle for much longer than I had. Due to the Grey Vale’s destructive nature, the beasts that survived in its dark corners were chiefly Unseelie rather than Seelie, and I didn’t have quite as much knowledge of Summer as I did of Winter. I did, however, know enough to be aware that no level of politeness would prevent the Sidhe from turning me into a deer if they so desired. “Is this the Court, then?”
“This is one of the places in Summer’s territory closest to the human realm,” said Quentin, from somewhere amid the long grass. “Like your human world, the faerie realm itself is extensive and has many parts, not all of which are inhabitable. We can walk to the Court from here.”
The brownie waded through the grass towards a forest of towering oaks and ashes. Each sprawling tree mirrored its counterpart in the mortal realm, albeit brighter, taller, and somehow more solid, more present. As though the mortal realm’s version was only a pale imitation and not the other way around. If someone tried to take an axe to one of these trees, they’d probably have eaten the would-be woodcutter alive.
The two knights galloped towards the densely packed trees without any fear of collision. The Summer Sidhe held a level of control over nature that was reciprocal, as Summer magic fed on life and fuelled it in turn. At their approach, the trees themselves moved out of the knights’ way like subjects stumbling aside to allow royalty to pass by. Quentin and I hurried after, following the riders down a path dappled with sunlight.
I hadn’t walked a hundred metres before a vine shot out and grabbed my ankle.
Faerie had tried that same trick so many times that I merely rolled my eyes when the vine flipped me upside down, dangling me over the path. Quentin stopped, alarm flickering across his face, but I’d run out of fucks to give long before I’d left the mortal realm.
“What?” I asked the plant. “If you want to try eating me, be my guest. I have iron in my pockets.”
The vine responded by shaking me violently. I gritted my teeth, the blood rushing to my head, and reached for my magic. A faint blue light bloomed at my hands, but nothing as bright as usual. Dammit, it’s still playing hide-and-seek. My magic had been notably less potent since I’d used it to shatter Fionn’s cauldron and prevent him from creating an army of the dead, and being in the Court whose power was diametrically opposed to the source of my talisman’s magic likely didn’t help matters either.
I inched my hand towards one of my daggers. A second vine locked onto my wrist, but I fought the pull, my fingers closing around the hilt and pulling it free. As the iron brushed against the vine, the plant released my wrist with a violent shudder. I twisted the dagger in my hand and drove it into the thick stem that ensnared my ankle.
The vine emitted a sound almost like a faint scream as the iron pierced the surface. I slid free, landing in a forward roll and coming upright at a crouch. “Nice try.”
Lord Raivan, who’d stilled his horse, gave me an appraising look. “Are you certain you’re a pure-blooded human?”
“Yes.” I rose upright, sheathing my weapon. The dagger was one of a pair Vance had given me, each reinforced with iron and marked with glyphs designed to enable me to find its partner if I lost one. Given my previous experience with using non-fae magic in this realm, I doubted the latter would work here, but the iron alone was a deterrent to most of its inhabitants. “Believe it or not, you tend to make adjustments when you spend years being dangled upside-down, thrown out of windows and beaten up by the fae.”
“Then you might survive this trip after all.” Lord Raivan’s horse resumed trotting after his companion. Quentin looked me over as though searching for injuries and then ran after, his stubby little legs struggling to keep up with the large horse’s gallop.
I strode ahead of the brownie, addressing the horse’s rider. “Didn’t want to use your magic to help me out?”
“I thought you had your own magic.” Lord Raivan cast a shrewd look over the back of his horse.
“I do.” Defensiveness crept into my tone. “It’s from Winter, and I figured it’d draw unwelcome attention here in Summer. Iron is generally more effective.”
“Is it?” Lord Raivan turned back to the road ahead. “Your blade… it’s not one I’ve seen before.”
“I’m not here to discuss my talisman.” My shoulders tensed. “Not even with the Seelie King, if he wants to lower himself to speak to me. I’m here to learn how to free my partner and stop an invasion of my realm. Everything else is secondary.”
Admittedly, I wouldn’t have minded learning more of my talisman’s capabilities, but I wouldn’t find that information here. Summer’s Sidhe would be displeased enough to know I carried a blade from Winter without my admitting that the magic it contained was of a different origin. Namely, from one of the very deities the Sidhe had exiled when they’d created the Grey Vale. Given that someone had sent this pair to escort a pair of humans into their home, I was pretty sure they weren’t important enough to have high status in the Summer Court and would know nothing of the events that stretched so far back into the past that even most Sidhe hadn’t been alive at the time.
The trees thinned out as we emerged from the shade into a wilder area of flowers and bramble thickets. A perfumed fragrance hung in the air, making my eyes water and leaving a bitter taste in my throat that I was sure would linger for the next week. Heat baked the back of my neck and left me cooking in my leather jacket, but I didn’t dare remove it. The minor discomfort was nothing on some of the stories I’d heard of humans being cursed to spit flowers whenever they spoke, to grow vines from their ears, to stumble on unwanted hooves.
I’d maintain enough politeness towards my escorts to avoid such a fate, but the sense of being entrapped only intensified when I realised that despite the amount of vegetation, the area was too neat to be called truly wild. Thick trees were lined up carefully, flowers grouped by colour and species, and the sense of order bore little resemblance to the patches of forest that sprang up unpredictably in the mortal world where Summer magic left its traces. The sound of water flowing mingled with birdsong and other animal noises, but I didn’t see a single other living being. Perhaps the wilder fae sensed my iron and kept away.
“Does anyone actually live here?” I whispered to Quentin.
“We are currently in the territory of Lord Raivan,” Quentin said in his low, gravelly voice. “My own master, Lord Torin, lives on the adjacent estate, and you will not be harmed while you are here.”
“Really.”
“I admit to a less than perfect understanding of modern human customs, but you and Vance are living together. In the terms of the agreement between the Colton family and mine, you’re part of his family. That means not a soul within the other family I serve will raise a weapon to you.”
An iron fist clamped over my heart. “That won’t do any good if he’s—” I couldn’t say the words. “Anyway, that doesn’t apply to the other faeries, just your family, right?”
“Correct,” he growled. “If you wish to know the truth, you’ll have to go into the centre of the Court.”
“And you’ll take me there?” My sense of geography wasn’t terrible, but Faerie defied all normal logic, and nobody had offered me a map.
“I will,” he confirmed. “I requested an audience for you. It’s up to them whether they decide to listen.”
“It’s in their interests to, or else Fionn and his pals won’t stop with our realm. All this is in danger, too.” I gestured ahead at a path that diverged into two halves, one which vanished into deeper woodland while the other skirted around a large, pleasant-looking house reminiscent of the mages’ manor. A reminder that, like the mages, the Sidhe families were long-lived and cultivated their wealth over many generations. Potentially infinite ones, given their immortality. Yet despite its display of perfect flowers and evergreen trees, I’d seen proof that nothing, no matter how ancient, was immune to decay. Even the Sidhe, unchanging and unyielding though they might be, would be reduced to dust and ashes if Fionn had his way.
The knights veered down the left-hand path, their horses’ hooves gliding amid the trees. As Quentin and I hurried to catch up, an odd shimmering overlaid my vision and reduced the surrounding forest to a blur of vibrant green light. A tingling sensation racked my body from head to toe, and when my vision restored itself, the trees had gone. In their place, huge leafy plants flanked an elaborately carved gate that appeared to be made entirely of intertwining thorns. I halted, my spine stiffening, as did Quentin.
“This is the Court of Summer,” said the brownie.
My heart gave a shudder. This is it. Beyond the gate, vibrant gardens stretched ahead to a palace so large it defied description. Its gold sheen glittered under the sunlight, bearing no resemblance to the castles I’d seen in the Vale yet triggering the same reflex inside me all the same. A trickle of cold sweat ran down my back.
Welcome to your new home, Avalin’s voice whispered in my ear. I’ve made it comfortable for you.
I clenched my jaw, averted my eyes from the thorns, and waited for the gates to open. Lord Raivan and Lord Burdock rode through, and I kept a hand clenched on my dagger as I trod behind Quentin. Though the two Sidhe continued to ride towards the palace, the brownie halted at a fast-flowing river, near which stood another horse bearing a golden-skinned noble. The male Sidhe was dressed in finery patterned to match the red and purple flowers blooming amid the grass, and his green eyes surveyed me with marked disdain.
“Human.” That single word carried enough contempt to level a building. “You’re the one who wishes to speak to the Seelie Court?”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “I’m Ivy Lane.”
“Lynn?” said the newcomer. “I thought I told you not to disturb the Court unless it’s an emergency.”
“Lane,” I corrected. Who in hell did he think I was? “I’ve been granted an audience with your Court, according to Quentin. Besides, it is an emergency.”
What had Quentin even told the Court about me? If he’d stuck to his agreement to keep the mages’ business confidential, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the Sidhe much that wouldn’t implicate both of us in severe crimes, most of which involved me breaking their property.
“She is correct,” Quentin told him. “You agreed to speak to her.”
“The Court has agreed to speak with one human,” the Sidhe corrected. “She claims to have information on the whereabouts of the Erlking’s missing ring. Is that correct?”
“Good enough.” That fucking ring. Never mind humanity’s near-extinction. In the end, the only thing that had caught the Sidhe’s attention was the reappearance of a valuable talisman they’d carelessly lost a long while ago, and that I’d thrown into an abyss from which there would be no retrieval. I’d been trying to prevent the ring’s destructive magic from setting a rampaging god loose in the city at the time, but the Sidhe didn’t care for such technicalities.
“Very well,” he said. “Lord Kerien is currently taking all petitions from mortals.”
“It’s not a petition, it’s a warning.”
One I hoped they’d take seriously. My most recent act of vandalism had been the result of Fionn’s attempt to use Summer’s ring to wreak havoc in my realm, but the Sidhe had an irritating tendency to slither out of taking responsibility for their notorious criminals. Usually, they dumped them in the Vale. Fionn, being the overly ambitious sort, had wanted more than to rule over part of a dismal corner of Faerie left to ruin, perhaps because he’d once been employed by the Courts to ferry the dead to be reborn into new bodies using the Sidhe’s prized cauldron of resurrection. His attempt to use that magic to create an army of immortal servants had come to an end when I’d shattered said cauldron into pieces using an Invocation. My second act of vandalism, and possibly the most serious of the two, since I was pretty sure the cauldron had also been the main source of the Sidhe’s immortality.
Luckily, nobody in the Courts knew yet. I hadn’t even had time to tell my allies, and I’d keep that secret nestled close to my chest for as long as it took me to see this mission through.
That was the sole advantage I possessed. Pure faeries, Sidhe or not, couldn’t utter a single untruth.
I, however, could lie my arse off if necessary. And I’d happily do so if it got me closer to rescuing Vance.
It’s on, Faerie.