One of the werewolves started forward, but the leader shook his head, grabbing the man by the arm. “She’s Consortium,” was all he said, and the five began to back away, hands in the air.

“Get in your car and drive out of here now.” Ysandra gave a little nod to us. “Do as I say.”

“But will you be safe if we go?” We couldn’t just leave her standing there.

She let out a cold, harsh laugh that seemed incongruous with her looks. “Do not let appearances deceive you, Cicely. Trust on instinct rather than what you see.”

Kaylin motioned to the car. “Get in. Do as she says.”

I started to protest, but Ulean swept around me in a spinning vortex.

Do as Kaylin says. Do as the witch says. She is far more than you perceive—I can see her energy now and it is frightening in its power. She could destroy the werewolves’ hearing with a whistle, she could rupture their eardrums with one clap of the hands. She does not need our help.

The intensity of Ulean’s thoughts hit me like a brick. She wasn’t joking. I nodded, backing up to the car, keeping one eye on the werewolves who stood near their trucks, staring at us. Rhiannon and I climbed in as Kaylin turned the ignition.

Ysandra called out something—I couldn’t quite catch what because I was too busy gawking rather than listening to the slipstream—and the werewolves turned, jumped in their trucks, and peeled out of the parking lot.

As we headed in the opposite direction, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ysandra picked up her briefcase and bag like nothing had happened, daintily stepped into her sedan, and within seconds, she’d driven off into the night.

Chapter 7

On the drive home we didn’t talk much. Watching Ysandra bring a pack of werewolves to their knees had been sobering. If that’s the kind of power the Consortium had, I wanted in on it. I didn’t know how much I trusted them, but I’d rather align myself with them than against them.

“We have to tell Lannan we talked to her, but let’s wait till he’s asleep to discuss the werewolves, the task force, and the fact that the Consortium knows all about the war between the vampires and the Indigo Court.”

“Spot on.” Kaylin flicked the turn signal as we eased off the highway, onto the street leading to the warehouse. “Somehow I think even Lannan would go running back to the Crimson Court with that information, as much of a rogue as he is.”

We pulled into the parking lot and he turned off the ignition. We’d made it back to the warehouse without anything worse than a few swerves.

As we swept into the central room, everybody was eating. Everyone except Lannan, who was sitting off to the side, a smirk on his face as he flipped through an issue of Vamp. A slut magazine catering to the bite-me set, the monthly rag featured gaudy pictures of women—and men—dressed in little to no clothing, advertising their services for hire as bloodwhores.

He glanced up at me, his long lashes fluttering against the obsidian gleam of his eyes. Very slowly, he closed the magazine and set it to the side. “So, our illustrious trio returns.” Slipping off the arm of the chair on which he’d been sitting, Lannan sauntered over to me, circling me as I shrugged out of my jacket.

“Cicely, my sweet Cicely. Where have you been?”

I tried to ignore his proximity, but the feel of him behind me set me on edge. Shivering, I tried to ignore the magnetic pull he had on my body.

“We talked to Ysandra. The Consortium has accepted us in on an emergency basis. I signed a contract with her.” I turned to Lannan—I knew he was going to raise a stink about it. And I wasn’t mistaken.

“You seriously believe that will release you from your obligation to the vampires? Geoffrey’s actions do not negate the contract between you and the Crimson Veil. Don’t fancy yourself footloose, my dear Cicely.” He leaned in, his face inches from my own. My wolf ruffled its fur—Grieve wasn’t happy, that was for sure. “And didn’t Geoffrey tell you not to talk to the Consortium?”

I stood my ground. “He warned me about them, yes. But given that I now trust Geoffrey just about as much as I trust Myst, I’m not necessarily concerning myself with what Geoffrey told me.” I flashed him a snarly leer. I wanted to bait him. Just a little. “So, are you going to run back to him and tell him what I’ve done?”

Lannan froze, his gaze narrowing. He looked two seconds short of baring his fangs, but after a moment, he pulled back. “Don’t tempt me, girl. Don’t ever fancy yourself the winner in our little game of wit and will.”

“You’re edging onto shaky ground, Altos.” My father stood, motioning for Grieve to remain silent. “Remember, you stand in the presence of Summer whether Lainule is here or not—I am the King of Rivers and Rushes and I wield no small power. And Cicely is my daughter.”

Lannan paused, his gaze flickering from me to my father. Slowly, still swaggering, he disengaged me and headed toward the door. “I must drink and drink deep, and if no one here is offering their services—” He paused, glancing back at me. I looked away. “I shall return soon. And I’ll see if I can dig up some information on our newly minted vampire, little Leo.”

With that, he was out the door, a blur of motion. I let out a long breath and sank into a chair.

“I still don’t like having him here.” I waved away offers of soup and a sandwich. “We ate.” While they finished dinner, Kaylin, Rhiannon, and I told them what had gone down, including the parts we couldn’t talk about in front of Lannan.

“So the Moon Spinners officially belong to the Consortium, then?” Peyton asked.

“That we do, which means we have to keep records of our ceremonies and meetings.” Rhiannon held up the pamphlet that Ysandra had given us. “Though, considering we’ve been inducted on an emergency basis, I think they’ll understand if we’re a little haphazard to begin with.” She paused. “Do you hear that? A tapping?”

Kaylin squinted, heading toward the door. Chatter and Grieve moved to back him up. The rest of us prepared for the worst. It might just be Lannan—though he was fully capable of opening the heavy door himself—or it might be something far worse.

But when they returned, the men were followed by a couple of the Fae I recognized as Lainule’s personal bodyguards.

“Is there a problem?” Wrath slowly stood, a look of concern crinkling his face.

The guards knelt before him. “Lord of Summer, we entreat you. The Queen has taken ill and needs you. Come quickly, please.” They turned to me. “She asked for you as well.”

Without a word, I shrugged into my jacket and, following my father, headed out into the snow.

The moment we were outside, my father took my hand and, letting the guards lead the way, stepped through a shimmer that appeared in the courtyard. I caught my breath as the world shifted. Ulean was with me, and she laid a calming kiss of warm breeze on my shoulder.

This is no trick. This is how the Fae often travel. Your body should respond quickly, with your parentage.

And she was correct—within seconds, the vertigo vanished and the movement as we walked through the swirling mists felt almost familiar—like something I’d once known about but had forgotten.

And then we were in the realm of Summer, and the chill of the snow fell away, though something felt amiss. As we passed silently through the trees, along a rich path toward a glade up ahead, I noticed that the leaves were beginning to turn color—a rich shade of bronze. And that should not be. The trees were always a vibrant green here.

Wrath stiffened beside me, and he tugged on my hand, moving us faster as we neither walked nor glided but somehow moved forward through the sparkling vapors that rose around us.

The birds were silent, and in my heart, I knew something was horribly wrong. The birds never stopped singing in Summer’s realm. I closed my eyes, praying we weren’t too late to prevent whatever it was that was happening.

Up ahead, a barrow stood. It was not the true barrow of Summer, locked in Myst’s grasp in the Golden Wood, but a makeshift refuge for a queen and her people who had been ousted from their home. We came to the edge, and the mist vanished and we stood there, in the silent gloom of evening. The chill hit me then—just a slight tang, a presage of autumn—and I knew that Lainule was dying.

Wrath still remained silent, leading me into the barrow. The guards guided us to a chamber toward the back of the spacious hall. The smell of pungent earth held sway in the air, slightly sour and biting. There were Cambyra Fae everywhere, the people of Summer—my father’s people, and my own. They stood as one upon our appearance and, as Wrath and I passed, knelt into deep curtsies and bows.

My blood stirred as I looked into their faces, and for once I felt welcome. Praying they did not know I’d been Myst’s daughter previously, I smiled gently, trying not to envision the horror they’d been through when Winter had reached out for their land.

The guards stopped outside a chamber. Wrath motioned for me to attend him and entered through the oak-hewn door. The room was large, though not grand, and a bed—high and only reachable by a two-step footstool—stood against one wall. Silk curtains were draped from each corner of the ceiling above the bed, wrapping around the posts that rose a good eight feet from the floor.

The rest of the room was simple, yet elegant. A large armoire. A dressing table. A bath—looking to be made out of smooth tile—sat cordoned off by its own curtain. I wondered what Lainule’s chamber had looked like back in the Golden Wood—it must have been grand, and beautiful. Heartsick, I bit my lip.

As we approached the bed, there was a slight movement and a tall, graceful woman stepped from behind one of the curtains. She knelt before Wrath, but before he could greet her, she stood and her eyes were filled with sorrow.

“She is unwell. You know what makes her ill.” She sounded resigned, without hope.

Wrath nodded. “She is too far from her heartstone.” The woman glanced at me, but Wrath shook his head. “It is all right. This is my daughter, Cicely Waters. She is half-magic-born, and an owl-shifter like me. She is one of the Cambyra and will be treated as my heir.”

I caught my breath. This was the first time that I’d been introduced to anyone—at least more than a nodding glance—and I hadn’t expected him to announce he was my father.

“Lady Cicely, welcome.” The woman knelt briefly to me, then returned her attention to Wrath. “Your Highness, she must have her heartstone or the Summer will fade.”

“The Queen is the heart of Summer, yes, I know.” Wrath fell silent, then walked over to the bed. Two handmaidens drew back the curtains to show the silent form of Lainule stretched beneath a purple and green comforter, her golden hair spread out on the pillows. Her eyes were open, and she turned to look at us, but I could tell she was weak. I knew she had been fading, but for it to have come on so swiftly must mean that Myst was getting closer to finding her heartstone.

Wrath swiftly climbed the steps leading to the high mattress. He sat carefully on the side, the quilted comforter beneath him shifting ever so slightly. He took Lainule’s left hand in his own, interlacing her fingers with his, and lifted it gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the pale skin.

Tears caught in my throat. As I watched the tableau, I knew they were speaking but without words. And argument or not, their love broke through their recent spat and Wrath leaned down and gathered her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.

“You cannot die. The Heart of Summer cannot die.” He kissed her again, and she murmured something that I chose not to hear—it was for his ears only. After a moment, my father turned. “Lainule wishes to speak to you, daughter.”

I hesitantly crossed the room, holding my breath, trying not to cry. Lainule looked so delicate and fragile in her bed, so unlike the vivacity of summer. The Queen of Rivers and Rushes let out a long sigh, slow, like a breeze through hollow husks, as I approached.

Wrath stood back as I climbed the three wooden steps, hewn in oak, to the side of her bed, and took my place sitting next to her.

“Lainule, can you ever forgive me?” I wasn’t sure what I was asking forgiveness for—perhaps for bucking her will, for choosing my own life over the hope that I might be a weapon against Myst.

But her eyelashes fluttered and she looked up at me, motioning me close. I leaned in, my ear next to her lips.

“The only forgiveness necessary is yours. I should never have agreed to Geoffrey’s plan. It was madness to work with the Crimson Court. I know that now. Child, I am dying.”

And there it was, plain and simple.

“No, you can’t die. We need you. Myst cannot be allowed to rule the land. And…I need you. I don’t know how to be one of your people.” The words flowed out of my mouth, and I wasn’t even sure what I was saying.

She shook her head, just one simple shake. “Your father will teach you. But without my heartstone, I cannot hope to regain my strength. I do not have long before the Summer fades and Winter claims my soul. She is growing dangerously close to my heartstone. I can feel her reaching out her spindly fingers, searching for it.”

“She will not have it.” I sat back, biting my lip. “Tell me where it is and I will get it. But you have to tell me where to find it.”

“The danger is too great—”

“The danger without you is far greater.” I leaned close and looked into her eyes. “I am afraid, but I am more afraid of what will happen should Myst be allowed free rein. You must tell me where to find the heartstone.” I thought I knew where it was, but it was simpler to just ask and make certain.