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  The hillside opened under Dugan’s hand, swinging in like it actually was a door. Bright sunlight and the swirling notes of a panpipe escaped through the opening. We hadn’t even stepped through yet, and I could feel the warm sunshine on my face.

  “All together?” Dugan asked, holding out his hand.

  Was he nervous about entering yet another court? I couldn’t blame him if he was. I definitely was, despite the fact that we’d negotiated our passage already.

  I took his offered hand. It was cool and dry against my gloved fingers, despite the blood he didn’t hide on his palms. It occurred to me I’d never actually touched him before. He might be an ancient Faerie prince, but his hand was just a hand, seeking as much support as it gave. With my other hand, I reached out and locked my fingers with Falin’s gloved hand.

  “Don’t let the king bespell me,” I whispered.

  Then we stepped through the hillside doorway and into the streaming sunlight.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I do’na think ye belong in the summer court,” a deep voice said before my eyes had time to adjust to the bright sunlight.

  I blinked. Normally my eyes liked Faerie, but I couldn’t step into bright sunlight and not expect some time for adjustment. I hoped Falin and Dugan were adjusting faster than my damaged vision because I felt rather vulnerable, promises of safe passage or not. Falin clearly agreed. His fingers tightened around mine and then jerked me lightly sideways. He released me and I felt more than saw him step in front of me. In the shuffle I lost contact with Dugan as well, so I was suddenly alone and blind. That was not cool.

  The voice that had spoken hadn’t sounded particularly threatening, but it also hadn’t sounded very welcoming and it definitely hadn’t sounded like the Summer King. Not that I actually expected the Summer King to be hanging out at the door to his court waiting for us. There were surely guards on his door like winter had stationed at hers. Had the king informed his people we were coming? He hadn’t seemed particularly concerned with expediency. For all I knew he was still lounging in the clearing where we’d spoken to him through the mirror.

  A few more blinks, and my vision finally cleared. I’d expected with the amount of sunlight that we were in a field or maybe on top of a hill of heather. Instead there were earthen walls around us, flowering vines growing down them in thick curtains of green with bright flashes of color. Above us, the ceiling—if there was one—was lost to the bright sunlight. The floor under us was all greenery, but we were definitely in some sort of hall, the structure not that dissimilar from the winter halls, if completely different in decorating choices.

  A small cluster of what could only be guards stood in front of us. In the winter court, the queen’s guards were nearly indistinguishable from each other, their features hidden in magical cloaks and ice armor, but these summer guards could not be more different. A small pixie with armor stitched out of leaves and reinforced with acorns held a doll-sized blowgun in her small hands and hovered just out of reach at the height of Falin’s nose. A fae who appeared to be more boulder than flesh and stood no taller than my knees carried a stone club that he held in two thick hands. A pale, wispy fae with dried leaves in her hair and a paper-thin tunic that reminded me of birch bark brandished no weapons at all, but I had the distinct impression that she could kill with a single touch of her spindly fingers. A satyr with a bow and some form of draconic beast that I wasn’t certain if it was more pet or person rounded out the group of guards.

  Yeah . . . I definitely wasn’t feeling particularly welcomed.

  “We’ve been invited by the Summer King,” I said, since neither of my companions had said it.

  “Have ye now, lass?” the boulder fae said, and his deep gravelly voice was the same as the one that’d spoken when we’d first stepped through the door. “You’d think we’d be informed of something like that.”

  “I believe we are about to be,” the pale, wispy fae said. Her voice was thin and raspy and had the same quality of the wind-through-the-reeds sound very faded ghosts sometimes displayed. It was extra eerie coming from a living throat. She turned, lifting a hand, and a brilliantly colored bird landed on one of her long fingers. It chirped softly, and her head nodded, making the dried leaves in her hair rustle. “They are, in fact, invited guests.”

  The tiny pixie chittered, diving toward the bird. It ruffled its feathers, hopping from one foot to another. It responded with a few short chirps, and the pixie chittered again, gesticulating toward us with her small hands.

  The birch woman, who could clearly understand the language of both the bird and pixie, shook her head. “It is the word of the king.” She looked at us. “Come, I will escort you.”

  She flicked her long fingers and the bird took flight. Then she turned and took a long but unhurried step forward. She made no sound aside from the rustling as she moved, but as I watched her sluggish progress, I realized that every time she put down a bare, slender foot, roots shot down into the ground and broke away when she lifted her foot again.

  The progress we made was slow, and the halls of the summer court seemed as endless as winter’s, only perhaps worse, because there didn’t appear to be any doors in these never-ending halls. More than once I found myself wishing I could urge the birch woman to move faster. Lunabella, while our best lead, was not likely to be the end of our case and time was short. But I doubted she could move any faster, and all the other guards had remained behind aside from the pixie, who flittered in irritated circles around Falin, Dugan, and me. I didn’t think the diminutive fae was inclined to help.

  After what felt like a mile of walking, the birch fae stopped. I frowned. There was nothing around us but more vines and flowers. She reached out one pale hand, and the vines slithered away from her. It wasn’t so much that they revealed a door—I’d been able to see the earthen wall behind them in places before they had started moving—as that they formed a doorway that had not previously been there.

  And this was why I would never be able to navigate around Faerie on my own.

  Falin gave the birch woman the smallest nod before reaching back to offer me his hand. I took it, trying hard to ignore the pixie as she dive-bombed my fingers. I didn’t want to wait around to see what the pixie would do next. She clearly didn’t like me. Or maybe it was my escorts. Either way, her skin had changed from the softly glowing green it had been when she’d been with the other guards, to first yellow, then orange, and now she simmered an angry red.

  I lifted my eyebrow at Falin, tossed a glance backward at Dugan, and when both men nodded, we stepped through the doorway.

  Chapter 9

  I expected the doorway to take us to the wildflowers and pond where the king had been lounging during our conversation.

  It didn’t.

  For a moment I thought we’d somehow stepped back into the Eternal Bloom based on all the tables spread around us, each laden with food and surrounded by fae eating and making merry. Music played gleefully, and I could see dancers off to my left. But unlike the Bloom, which still attempted to resemble a room despite the Faerie sky and living amaranthine tree that functioned as its ceiling, the “room” we’d been led to appeared to have no walls, at least not before the tree line I could see on the edges of the field. There was also no floor, the tables and chairs spread haphazardly in the grass.

  The birch woman hadn’t followed us in, but the pixie had. She chittered at me once more, hovering right before my face. Then she kicked me in the nose.

  “Hey,” I yelped, jerking my hand up to bat her away. I didn’t even come close to touching her as she zipped out of reach, and I rubbed the tip of my nose. She hadn’t done any damage, but the kick had stung.

  She stuck her tongue out at me, and her color changed to a deep crimson. Then she turned and flew away, vanishing among the tables.

  “What was that about?” I asked, resisting the urge
to rub my nose a second time.

  “I have no idea,” Falin said, his eyes scanning the tables of fae. “And both of our guides have now left us, so I guess we are on our own.”

  “I suggest we look for the largest table, if we are looking for the king,” Dugan said, scanning the scene.

  “And if we just want to look for Lunabella?” I had the feeling I already knew the answer. I asked anyway.

  Dugan turned away from the festivities in front of us to shoot me a frown. “I don’t suggest we do that.”

  Right. Well then, I guess we had a king to find.

  Without a guide, we made our way through the field slowly. The revelry for the longest night would start tonight, but it looked like the summer fae were pregaming their celebration quite hard. Or maybe this was common for the court. I had little to base it on. Despite the sun blazing overhead, bonfires had been lit in the field, and fae of all manner danced around them.

  I hadn’t been around many large gatherings of fae. I visited the Bloom occasionally, but most of those fae were independents who lived near mortals. I’d been to the Fall Equinox revelry, but I’d been a little overwhelmed that night and hadn’t been able to pick out who belonged to which court after their initial procession. Looking around, I realized I probably wouldn’t have been able to group the summer fae together anyway. The winter court boasted a wide range of fae, but from what I’d seen, they all dressed very formally in attire that fit some Renaissance or maybe Victorian-era ballroom. There was no unifying element to the wardrobes of the summer fae, except perhaps that there was a considerable amount of flesh on display. Some wore clothes crafted out of leaves and bark. Others appeared to be wearing nothing more than smoke or water vapor. A few wore handspun frocks and simple tunics. Leather and fur also made an appearance on many. And then there were some who were completely naked. It was far more chaotic than the winter court, but the fae also looked happier than at the winter ball I’d been compelled to attend.

  As we wove around the tables and avoided the dancers, our presence, if noted at all, was met with mixed reactions. Some fae smiled widely, lifting goblets or beckoning us to join their dances. Others scowled, sneered, or even fingered weapons. None stopped us, though.

  As Dugan predicted, it was the largest table we needed to find. We spotted it in the center of the field. I expected the king’s table to be set apart somehow. Perhaps on a hill or a throne on a platform. Instead his enormous table was in the very center of the most activity in the field. Dozens of fae sat at the table—more than could possibly be his inner circle of advisors—and more mingled around the edges. Many of the fae at the table were Sleagh Maith, but there were just as many or more who were not. Nymphs and dryads, satyrs and trolls, and many others I couldn’t name off the top of my head gathered at the table.

  The king had added a deerskin vest to his wardrobe since we’d talked to him, but it left as much of his tanned chest bare as it covered. It was nice view, and I might have enjoyed it—after all, it’s always nice to look at a gorgeous body—except a green-skinned nymph balanced on one of his knees, her hands casually caressing the muscular abs visible above the king’s brown trousers. Another fae had her arms around his shoulders, her brilliantly pink hair falling down over one of his arms. Yet another fae was joyfully feeding him grapes, and either she wore only a rainbow-colored cloak and nothing else or she had rainbow wings folded down her back and was naked as the day she was born. The whole scene looked a little too much like the start to a very well-costumed pornographic movie. If this turned into an orgy, I was out of here.

  The king looked at us and smiled broadly in welcome.

  “Planeweaver, make merry with us,” he called out, picking up an enormous leather flagon that spilled over with amber liquid. He lifted it as if in a toast to me, and several other fae at the table lifted their cups as well. Then he drank an enormous gulp from the flagon. His eyes sparkled as he set the drink back on the table. “Unless, of course, you wish to examine the toilets first.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks as several fae shot curious glances in my direction.

  “I’ll pass,” I muttered.

  The king’s smile spread. “Sit.”

  It was a command, regardless of how friendly it was delivered. Three seats were suddenly vacated in front of the king, and I found myself herded into one. Food was set in front of us, followed quickly by an array of drinks in goblets, flutes, and flagons. A few months ago, the feast that was spread in front of us would have astounded and terrified me. The first because there was just so much food. And the second because it was Faerie food. That time was past, and I had become rather accustomed to Faerie feasts. And I didn’t fear them. There was some mortal blood in my heritage, but I had “blooded true” as they said, and was in all discernible aspects fae. I opened my shields enough to scan for any spells on the food, and not finding any, selected a leg of something large and savory. It was delicious, and my acceptance of the food seemed to please the king. I’d skipped lunch, and I wasn’t sure where this investigation would lead us, so I gave myself a moment to eat.

  “So what do you think of my court?” the king asked, watching me eat.

  I had to swallow a rather large bite of food before I could answer. “It is very . . . sunny.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all,” I said, glancing at the fae gathered around the table. Was Lunabella here? I cut my gaze toward Falin. He was eating as well, though a little more gracefully than I had been. Dugan was not eating. I turned back toward the Summer King. “I thought you said you couldn’t pull together festivities on such short notice.”

  He smiled, his green eyes glittering. “Who said this is in any way out of the ordinary for my court?”

  I looked around and shrugged. “They’re having too much fun. If this was your daily dinner routine, it would be more subdued.”

  “We could be that fun-loving.”

  I shook my head. “Even the best party eventually gets tiresome.”

  The king lifted a chestnut-colored eyebrow but finally conceded with a shrug. “We are celebrating the last hours of sunlight before the beginning of the longest night and the official start of winter.”

  “But fall is the dominant season right now. Will it make that big a difference when winter arrives?”

  Beside me, I could all but feel the two men go still, but the king only laughed.

  “We are opposite the wheel of winter. When she is strongest, we are weakest. It is a long season for us. So we make merry in these last few hours of light.” He leaned forward. “But you did not seek my court for a lesson on Faerie.”

  That was true. I glanced at the drinks in front of me, hoping for something to wash down the meal I’d been eating. Of course, nearly half a dozen cups and not one looked like it contained water and all looked alcoholic. Usually that wouldn’t bother me, especially since my fae nature asserted itself and the amount of alcohol it took for me to so much as feel a buzz had significantly increased. But I was in the middle of a case and I was visiting a Faerie court, so I needed all my wits about me. Also, I had to be careful. While mortal alcohol had little effect on me these days, Faerie liquors tended to be much more potent. I grabbed a wooden mug that looked like it contained a pale ale, judging that it would be the least impairing. I took a small sip, found it to be malty but good, and took a slightly larger sip before I looked up at the Summer King again.

  “Where would we find Lunabella?”

  The king flashed me a dazzling smile. “First, you must dance with me.”

  It was not a request. It was a command. I didn’t like it.

  “I don’t dance.”

  “I’m fairly certain I noticed you dancing with the Winter Knight at the Fall Equinox,” the king said. He stood, the movement sending the fae fawning over him scurrying away. “I won’t accept no for an answer. One dance, and then you may spe
ak to anyone you like.”

  “You’ve already promised me that.” Wasn’t that the point of all the bargaining we’d done before we left my office?

  “Of course. My subjects are yours to discourse with.” He leapt over the table. He didn’t vault it. No part of him touched the tabletop and not even a single flute of wine stirred as he cleared the table. He simply jumped as easily as a human might hop a puddle and he soared over the table, the feast, and those of us seated. He landed nimbly behind me, all unnatural grace and strength. Then he held out a hand. “But I am a king, and I would be most displeased if you denied me the simple request of a single dance.”

  He didn’t look like a king. In his deerskin vest, disheveled hair strewn with flowers, and easy smile, he looked like some mischievous youth who was planning pranks. He also looked spoiled and used to getting whatever—and whomever—he wanted. But his people were certainly more comfortable around him than the Winter Queen’s subjects. He was among them, interacting with them. Not set apart and untouchable on an icy throne. That did say something for him and his court. That didn’t mean I wanted to dance with him, though.

  Falin touched my elbow and gave me the barest nod, a warning in his eyes. Apparently, there would be no talking my way out of a dance. I twisted around and rose to my feet, not taking the king’s proffered hand. Not yet, at least.

  “Promise him nothing,” Dugan whispered as I stood. I glanced back at him. His expression was that of bored apathy as he observed the festivities around him, but his whispered words had sounded anything but apathetic. I got the feeling he didn’t like this any more than I did.

  “One dance,” I said, finally taking the king’s hand.

  The skin on his fingers was hot. Too hot for comfort, even through the material of my gloves. A moment of shock registered on his face, and he dropped my hand, his brows furrowing.