“You will not find her there, human.”
I spun, my heart leaping at the familiar, bored voice. Through the open doors, silhouetted against the night sky, a furry gray cat perched on the balcony, watching us with moonlike golden eyes.
At the sight of the intruder, Beau jerked upright, bristling and showing his teeth. He tensed to lunge, but Ash put a hand on his neck and murmured a quiet word, and Beau calmed instantly, sinking back to the bed. The gray cat yawned, unimpressed, and gave his paw a couple licks.
“Hello, Iron Queen.” Grimalkin sighed, as if this meeting was encroaching on his valuable time. “We meet yet again. Sooner than I had anticipated, but I suppose it is to be expected.” He shook his furry head, contemplating us both. “Why is it that neither of you can manage to stay out of trouble for a single season?”
Ash rose from the mattress, his expression wary and puzzled. “How did you get in here, cat?” he asked, frowning. Grimalkin sniffed.
“I climbed.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
It hit me then, what Ash was saying. “Wait a minute,” I echoed, striding out to the balcony, where the cat regarded me lazily. “How are you able to be here, Grim? You’re not an Iron faery, you still can’t be in Mag Tuiredh without being poisoned, and I’m certain you didn’t take that journey to the End of the World for yourself.” Grimalkin snorted, as if such a thought was highly offensive. “How are you doing this?” I continued, frowning at him. “And if you say ‘I am a cat,’ I swear I will throw you off this balcony.”
Grimalkin sneezed with amusement. “Worry not, human,” he stated, slitting his eyes at me. “I am in no danger. It is all part of the deal I worked out with the former Iron lieutenant.”
“Ironhorse?”
“Mmm, yes.” Grimalkin scrubbed a paw over his ear. “You can say his…hmm…spirit still inhabits the amulet I procured, that as long as it remains intact, I am exempt from the poison of the Iron Realm.” He yawned again, curling his whiskers. “I do not know how long it will last, how much time I have left in the Iron Realm, but the former lieutenant was one of the stronger fey, after all. His last wish was to protect you, even if he could not be there himself.” He sniffed and yawned again, showing a flash of pointed teeth. “Still, I doubt it will last forever, and I certainly do not intend to stay here any longer than I have to. Time is of the essence.” Flicking his tail, he gazed up at me. “Shall we get on with it, then?”
“Then, you know,” Ash said from behind me. “You know about the oracle’s prophecy.”
“You humans are so very adept at stating the obvious.”
“Do you know where she is?” I asked. “Where we’re going?”
Grimalkin blinked at me. “I do,” he purred, holding my gaze. “And I will ask no favor to lead you there. That has already been taken care of. I am to guide the Iron Queen, her knight and one other through the wyldwood, to a place called the Wishing Tree.”
I could tell by the way Ash went motionless that he knew about this place. “What’s the Wishing Tree?” I asked, looking back at him.
“Do you really wish to stand around and discuss it?” Grimalkin said before Ash could reply. “We are wasting time. We must meet one other before the night is out, and if we do not hurry, we will miss our window. Let us go.” He stood, waving his plumed tail. “I will be waiting for you at the southern edge of the wyldwood, past the bridge into the Iron Realm. Do hurry, human.”
And, in true Grimalkin fashion, he vanished.
Ash and I spared only a few minutes to change—me into jeans and a sweater, him into his long black coat—and to privately call Glitch into the room. The First Lieutenant was not happy about me traipsing off into the wyldwood in the middle of the night. I was the Iron Queen; I had responsibilities to my people and my realm. What if I didn’t come back?
“I’ll be back,” I assured him, grabbing my sword from the wall and buckling it around my waist. The curved steel blade settled comfortably against my hip. You could never be too careful in the wyldwood. “Ash will be with me. There’s nothing out there that will keep us from returning. I have to do this, Glitch. I can’t explain it, but I have to go. I’m trusting you to take care of things while we’re gone.”
Glitch looked unconvinced, but bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”
Beau whined and nudged my hand. I knelt to scratch the dog behind the ears. “You be good, too,” I told him. “Take care of Glitch and Razor while we’re gone, okay?”
Beau panted and wagged his tail. I gave him one last pat and rose, the breeze from the open glass doors ruffling my hair.
“Let’s go,” I told Ash, who waited quietly next to the balcony, sword at his side. “I don’t want to be away longer than we have to.”
I walked onto the balcony and put my hands on the railing, ignoring the city spread like a map of stars below. Instead, I closed my eyes, calling up my glamour, the magic of Summer and Iron that swirled through every part of me, tying me to the realm. It was the essence of science, logic and technology, but also nature and warmth and life. It was how I could look at a clock and see every intricate gear that made it turn and function, but also the painstaking attention to detail that fit beauty and function together seamlessly. It was how I could listen to a song and hear the rigid lines and perfectly timed notes that made up the score, carefully woven through the pure emotion of the music itself.
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.”