And it was how I could sense my Iron fey. How, by focusing my consciousness outward, I could feel their thoughts and know what they were doing.
I sent my glamour through the castle, invisible tendrils reaching out, searching. I felt Glitch, walking back into the hall, his worry for me carefully concealed. I sensed the guards, standing rigid at their posts, unaware that something was wrong. I caught frantic blips of movement from the gremlins, scurrying about the palace walls, constantly looking for trouble. I kept searching, moving through the walls, searching up and up until…there. On the far eastern tower, hanging sleepily from the rough stones, were the creatures I was looking for.
I sent a gentle pulse through our connection and felt them respond, buzzing excitedly as they woke up. Opening my eyes, I stepped back from the railing, and a moment later two insectlike gliders crawled down the wall and perched on the edge of the balcony, blinking huge, multifaceted eyes at us.
I glanced at Ash. “Ready?”
He nodded. “After you.”
I walked to the edge of the balcony, held my arms out from my sides, and one of the gliders immediately crawled up my back, curling thin jointed legs around my middle. Stepping over the railing, I gripped the insect’s front legs and dove off the tower, feeling a rush of wind snap at my hair. The glider’s wings caught the air currents, swooping upward, and we soared over Mag Tuiredh, its distant lights glimmering far below.
Ash swooped down beside me, his own glider buzzing excitedly at mine, as if they hadn’t seen each other in days rather than seconds. He gave me an encouraging nod, and we turned the gliders in the direction of the wyldwood.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Wishing Tree, as I learned from Ash, was one of those oddities in the Nevernever that sounded too good to be true. And, like the old saying warned, it usually was. The tree stood in one of the deepest regions of the wyldwood and was probably as old as the Nevernever itself. There were stories about humans going on quests to find it, for the legend stated that if you could get past the dragon or giant snake or whatever nasty thing was guarding the tree, you could wish for anything your heart desired.
But of course, as with all things in Faery, a wish never turned out the way the wisher expected. A dead lover might be brought back to life with no memory, or married to a rival. The wealth the wisher asked for might belong to someone else, someone very large, very powerful and very angry. Wishing for someone to fall in love with you almost ensured that they would die soon after, or become so manically obsessed, all you wanted to do was escape them, cursing the day you ever heard about the tree.
“So, why does Grimalkin want to meet us there?” I asked, as we landed our gliders a little way from the edge of the Iron Realm. As the new treaty dictated, no Iron fey could cross the border into the wyldwood without permission from Summer or Winter. As Iron Queen, I could probably have ignored the rule this once, but the peace treaty was still new, and I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I would oblige them for now. The gliders made disappointed clicking sounds when I told them to go home, but eventually went swooping back toward Mag Tuiredh. “I hope he doesn’t expect us to make a wish on the thing,” I continued, as Ash scanned the surroundings, wary and alert as always. “I’ve learned my lesson, thanks. I’d rather go to tea with Mab than make a wish on something called the Wishing Tree in the middle of the Nevernever.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to finally hear you say that.” Ash was still gazing around the clearing, looking solemn apart from the grin in his voice. When I glared at him, he turned, and the smile finally broke through. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that,” he said easily. “Though I would still advise you to be cautious. This is Grimalkin we’re talking about, after all.”
“Yeah.” I sighed as he closed the distance between us, not touching, but always close. “And he won’t tell us anything until he’s good and ready and I’m about to strangle him.”
Ash’s smile faded as he raised his head, tilting it to the side as though listening for something. “Do you hear that?” he asked.
We fell silent. Through the trees, faint at first but growing steadily louder, voices rose into the air—shouts and curses, mixed with the clang of weapons.
“Sounds like a fight,” Ash stated calmly, and I exhaled. Of course it was. This was the Nevernever, where nothing was ever simple.
“Come on,” I muttered, drawing my sword, “we’d better see what’s happening. I swear though, if I catch any more Winter knights this close to the border, Mab is going to get an earful.”
* * *
We headed into the trees, which quickly grew dark and tangled as the Iron Realm faded into the uniform murk of the wyldwood. The sounds of battle grew louder, more consistent, until we finally broke through the trees and stood at the edge of the wyldwood proper. A large chasm ran the length of the perimeter, separating the wyldwood from the Iron Realm, and a bridge spanned the gulf between territories. At one point, the bridge had been made of wood, but the wyldwood kept dragging it down, as if it didn’t want anyone coming or going into the Iron Realm. So finally, I’d spoken to my father, King Oberon, and another bridge had been constructed, this time made of stone and fashioned in place by trolls and rock dwarves. Moss and vines still curled around the heavy posts and railings, but dwarves knew stonework better than anyone, and this bridge wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.
Just as well.
A fight raged in the middle of that bridge—at least, I thought it was a fight. It might’ve been a crazy, twirling dance for all I knew. A hoard of small, dark faeries in wooden masks jabbered and danced around a tall figure in the center of the bridge. Spear points flashed, and I realized the little men were trying to stab the stranger, who was doing a fantastic job of dodging or blocking every strike with his daggers. His hair gleamed a shocking red in the darkness, and my heart leaped to my throat.
“Puck!”
The redheaded faery in the middle of the chaos shot me a quick glance. “Oh, hey, Meghan!” Robin Goodfellow paused a split second to wave before dodging back as a midget stabbed at him. “Small world! And ice-boy’s here, too! What a coincidence, I was just coming to look for you. Hey!” He ducked as a spear flew over his head. “Jeez, take it easy, you guys! I already told you, it was a simple misunderstanding.” The midgets chattered angrily and surged forward, jabbing with their weapons. Puck grimaced. “Uh, ice-boy, a little help?”
Ash instantly drew his arm back and sent a flurry of ice daggers spinning toward the bridge, striking several of the small figures, though not hard enough to kill them. They shrieked and whirled on us, dark eyes flashing, then bounded forward with raised spears.
I tensed, but at the edge of the Iron Realm, they skidded to a halt, gazing up at me with wide eyes. Crowding close, they jabbered to one another in that strange, unfamiliar language before turning to shout something to the few who still swarmed around Puck. They paused, then came forward to babble at one another in low voices, pointing fingers at me, then Puck.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Ash, who was following the strange conversation with a slight frown. He sighed.
“They’re Aluxob,” he said, to my utter confusion. “Mayan nature spirits. They protect the ancient forests of the Maya, but are usually fairly tolerant of outsiders.” He shot a look at Puck. “Unless the trespasser does something to anger or insult them.”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean, ‘ah’?” Puck said, still keeping a wary eye on his former attackers. “I told them before, it was a teensy tiny misunderstanding with an old headdress and an ancient burial ground. How was I supposed to know it was so important?”
“Puck—” I groaned, but one of the small men had crept close, watching us carefully. As I waited, he gave a jerky bow.
“Goddess?” he asked in a clear, high-pitched voice. “You…goddess of place, yes?”
I looked down at the tiny men, keeping a straight face even as I recalled the line from a favorite movie. When someone asks you if you’re a god, you say…yes!
“I am Meghan Chase, Queen of the Iron Realm. What do you want here?”
“Command,” the Alux-whatever went on, pointing back to Puck. “Command this one. Return to us what was stolen. Return, and we go.”
Ash sighed and shook his head. I blinked at the midget, then turned to glare at Puck. “What did you steal?”
“I didn’t steal it,” Puck said, sounding affronted. “I was just borrowing it for a while. I was going to give it back.”
“Puck!”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.” Reaching back, Puck pulled a long feather out of his hair. It shimmered as it caught the light, a rainbow of different colors, shifting gorgeously in the wind. Begrudgingly, he handed it to the nearest little man, who snatched it from his fingers, scowling. “Man, take one feathered serpent’s wingtip and you’re marked for life. It’s not like they don’t shed them every decade or so.”
The Aluxob bared their teeth at Puck, bowed to me and, as quickly as they had come, melted back into the trees. We watched until their small forms had completely disappeared into the tangled shadows, leaving the three of us standing alone at the edge of the wyldwood.
For a few heartbeats, we just stared at each other. The last time I’d seen Puck, I had been normal Meghan Chase, the girl he’d looked after for years at the command of my father, Oberon. That was before I nearly died saving Faery from the false king, took the throne for myself and married Puck’s archrival. Before I became the Iron Queen.
Things were different now. After the final battle, Puck had vanished, first to help Ash in his quest to earn a soul, then disappearing from the Nevernever completely. No one knew where he’d gone, but I suspected he’d wanted to put some distance between us, take some time to think. I’d desperately hoped to see him again soon, if only to let him know how grateful I was. Puck had loved me, but he’d gone with Ash to help him earn a soul so that his archrival could return to the Iron Realm to be with me. Robin Goodfellow, for all his pranks and mischief, was the sweetest, most noble person I’d ever known, and I’d missed him terribly.
“Well.” Puck finally broke the silence, scratching the back of his neck. “This is awkward. And here I thought I would have to rescue you and ice-boy from something again. That’s normally how these little reunions go.” He gave me a sheepish grin and stood uncomfortably next to the bridge, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not sure what to do here, your highness. I’d give you a hug, but that might not be proper, and bowing just seems weird. Think I’ll just stand here and wave. Or, I could give you a salute—”
Shaking my head, I walked up to him, reached out and pulled him into a hug. He hesitated only a second, then returned it tightly.
“Hey, princess,” he murmured as we drew apart, and I smiled at his old, stupid nickname for me. It seemed everything was back to normal between us, or at least on its way. His gaze flickered to Ash, who stood by calmly, watching us both. I spared a glance at my knight, but there was nothing cold or hostile in his expression. He almost appeared happy to see Puck. Almost.