by Julie Kagawa
Ash stepped forward, very subtly moving in front of me as the knights swept up, horses snorting small geysers from flared nostrils. “Prince Ash,” one knight said formally, bowing in the saddle. “Her majesty the queen has been informed of your return and has sent us to escort you and the half-breed back to the palace.”
I bristled at the term half-breed but Ash didn’t seem terribly fazed by their arrival.
“I don’t need an escort,” he said in a bored voice. “Return to the palace and tell Queen Mab I will arrive shortly. I’m fairly capable of handling the half-breed by myself.”
I cringed at his tone. He was back to being Prince Ash, third son of the Unseelie Court, dangerous, cold and heartless. The knights didn’t seem at all surprised, which somehow made me even more apprehensive. This cold, hostile prince was the Ash they were used to.
“I’m afraid the queen insists, Your Highness,” the first one replied, unapologetic. “By order of Queen Mab, you and the half-breed will come with us to the Winter Court. She is rather impatient for your arrival.”
Ash sighed.
“Very well,” he muttered, not even looking at me as he swung into an empty saddle. Before I could protest, another knight reached down and pulled me up in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”
We rode for several silent hours. The knights did not speak to me, Ash or each other, and the horse’s hooves made no sound as they galloped over the snow. Ash didn’t even look in my direction; his face remained blank and cold throughout the ride.
Completely ignored, I was left to my own thoughts, which were dark and growing more disturbing the farther we went. I missed home. I was terrified of meeting Queen Mab. And Ash had turned into someone cold and unfamiliar. I replayed our last kiss in my mind, clinging to it like a life vest in a raging sea. Had I imagined his feelings for me, misread his intentions? What if everything he’d said was just a ploy, a scheme to get me to Tir Na Nog and the queen?
No, I couldn’t believe that. The emotion on his face that night was real. I had to believe that he cared, I had to believe in him, or I would go crazy.
Night was falling and a huge frozen moon was peeking over the tops of the trees when we came to a vast, icy lake. Jagged ice floes crinkled against one another near the shoreline, and fog writhed along the surface of the water. A long wooden dock stretched out toward the middle of the lake, vanishing into the hanging mist.
As I wondered how close we were to the Winter Court, the knights abruptly steered their horses onto the rickety dock and rode down single file, the dark waters of the lake lapping the posts beneath us. I squinted and peered through the fog, wondering if the Winter Court was on an island in the center.
The mist cleared away for just a moment, and I saw the edge of the dock, dropping away into dark, murky lake water. The horses broke into a trot, then a full gallop, snorting eagerly, as the end of the dock rushed at us with terrifying speed.
I closed my eyes and the horses leaped.
We hit the water with a loud splash and sank quickly into the icy depths. The horse didn’t even try to resurface, and the knight’s grip was firm, so I couldn’t kick away. I held my breath and fought down panic as we dropped deeper and deeper into the frigid waters.
Then, suddenly, we resurfaced, bursting out with the same noisy splash, sending water flying. Gasping, I rubbed my eyes and looked around, confused and disoriented. I didn’t recall the horse swimming back up. Where were we, anyway?
My gaze focused, my breath caught and I forgot about everything else.
A massive underground city loomed before me, lit up with millions of tiny lights, gleaming yellow, blue and green like a blanket of stars. From where we floated in the black waters of the lake, I could see large stone buildings, streets winding upward in a spiral pattern and ice covering everything. The cavern above soared into darkness, farther than I could see, and the twinkling lights made the entire city glow with hazy etherealness.
At the top of a hill, casting its shadow over everything, an enormous, ice-covered palace stood proudly against the black. I shivered, and the knight behind me spoke for the first time.
“Welcome to Tir Na Nog.”
I glanced at Ash and finally caught his gaze. For a moment, the Unseelie prince looked torn, balanced between emotion and duty, his eyes begging forgiveness. But a half second later he turned away, and his face shut into that blank mask once more.
We rode through the snow-laced streets toward the palace, and the denizens of the Unseelie Court watched us pass with glowing, inhuman eyes. We stopped at the palace doors, where a pair of monstrous ogres glared menacingly, drool dripping from their tusks, but let us through without a word.
Even within the palace, the rooms and hallways were coated with frost and translucent, crystal ice in various colors; it was possibly colder inside than it was outside. More Unseelie roamed the corridors: goblins, hags, redcaps, all watching me with hungry, evil grins. But since I was flanked by a group of stone-faced knights and one lethally calm Winter prince, none dared do more than leer at me.
The knights escorted us to a pair of soaring double doors carved with the images of frozen trees. If you looked closely, you could almost see faces peering at you through the branches, but if you blinked or looked away they would be gone. A chill wafted out from between the cracks, colder than I thought possible, even in this palace of ice. It brushed across my skin and tiny needles of cold stabbed into me. I shivered and stepped back.
The knights, I realized, were now standing at attention along the corridor, gazing straight ahead, paying us no attention. As I rubbed my stinging arm, Ash stepped close, not touching me, but close enough to make my heart beat faster. With his back to the knights, he put a hand on the door and paused, as if gathering his resolve.
“This is the throne room,” he murmured in a low voice. “Queen Mab is on the other side. Are you ready?”
I wasn’t, really, but nodded, anyway. “Let’s do this,” I whispered, and Ash pushed open the door.
A blast of that same cold, stinging air hit my face as we went through, nearly taking my breath away. The room beyond was painfully cold; ice columns held up the ceiling, and the floor was slick and frozen. In the center of the room, surrounded by pale, aloof Winter gentry and pet goblins, the queen of the Unseelie Court waited for us.
Queen Mab sat atop her throne of ice, regal, beautiful and terrifying. Her skin was paler than snow, her blue-black hair coiled elegantly atop her head, held in place with icy needles. She wore a cloak of white fur and held a crystal goblet in one delicate, long-fingered hand. Her eyes, black and as depthless as space, rose slowly, capturing me in a piercing stare. Above the furred ruff, bloodred lips curled into a slow smile.
“Meghan Chase,” Queen Mab purred. “Welcome to the Winter Court. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m afraid you could be here a long, long time.”
“I Dare You”
Summer’s Crossing
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter One
AND AS I AM AN HONEST PUCK
Names.
What’s in a name, really? I mean, besides a bunch of letters or sounds strung together to make a word. Does a rose by any other name really smell as sweet? Would the most famous love
story in the world be as poignant if it was called Romeo and Gertrude? Why is what we call ourselves so important?
Heh, sorry, I don’t usually get philosophical. I’ve just been wondering lately. Names are, of course, very important to my kind. Me, I have so many, I can’t even remember them all. None of them are my True Name, of course. No one has ever spoken my real name out loud, not once, despite all the titles and nicknames and myths I’ve collected for myself over the years. No one has ever come close to getting it right.
Curious, are you? Wanna know my True Name? Okay, listen up, I’ve never told anyone before. My True Name is…
Hahahaha! You really thought I would tell you? Really? Oh, I kill me. But, like I said, names are important to us. For one thing, they tie us to this world; they ground us in reality somewhat. If you know your True Name—not everyone in our world finds it—you’re more “real” than if you don’t know who you are. And for a race that has a tendency to fade away if we’re forgotten, that’s kind of a big deal.
My name, one of many, is Robin Goodfellow.
You may have heard of me.
* * *
Once upon a time, I had two close friends. Shocking, I know, given my natural charm, but there are those who just don’t appreciate my brilliance. We weren’t supposed to be friends, the three of us, or even friendly with each other. I was part of the Seelie Court, and they…weren’t. But I’d never been one for following the rules, and who knew Queen Mab’s youngest son could be such a rebel, as well? And Ariella… I’d known Ash a long time before Ariella came into the picture, but I never begrudged her presence. She was the buffer between us; the one who could calm Ash when he slipped too far toward his ruthless Unseelie nature, or advised caution when one of my plans seemed a little…impulsive. Once upon a time, we were inseparable.
Once upon a time, I did something stupid. And lost them both in the process.
Which brings us to…now. Today. Where, once more, it was me and my former best friend, getting ready to head off on another adventure. Just like old times.
Except, he still hadn’t forgiven me for what had happened all those years ago. And he hadn’t really invited me along, either. I sort of…invited myself.
But if I made a habit of waiting for an invitation, I’d never get to go anywhere.
“So,” I said brightly, falling into step behind the brooding prince. “Grimalkin. We’re going to find him, right?”
“Yes.”
“Any idea where he is?”
“No.”
“Any idea where to start looking?”
“No.”
“You do realize that doesn’t constitute much of a plan, right ice-boy?”
He turned to glare at me, which I considered a small triumph. Ash usually ignored my goading. Anytime I could poke through his icy indifference was a victory. Of course, when poking the Winter prince, one had to proceed with caution. There was a fine line between irritation and having icicles hurled at your face.
He glared at me a moment longer, then sighed, raking a hand through his hair—a sure sign that he was frustrated. “Do you have any suggestions, Goodfellow?” he muttered, sounding reluctant to even ask. And for just a moment, I saw how lost he was, how uncertain of the future and what lay ahead. Anyone else wouldn’t have seen it, but I knew Ash. I could always catch those tiny flashes of emotion, no matter how well he hid them. It almost made me feel sorry for him.
Almost.
I grinned disarmingly. “What? Are you actually asking for my opinion, ice-boy?” I taunted, and that doubt vanished, replaced by annoyance. “Well,” I went on, leaning back against a tree trunk, “since you asked, we might want to check if anyone around here owes him a favor.”
“That narrows things down,” Ash said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, but he did have a point. If we started naming everyone that might owe our feline friend a favor, the list would fill several books.
“Well, then.” I crossed my arms. “If you have a better suggestion, Prince, I’d love to hear it.”
Before he could answer, a ripple of glamour shivered through the air. Glitter and streamers of light swirled around us, and a chorus of tiny voices sang out a single note. I winced, knowing there was only one person who thought a normal entrance, like walking through a door, wasn’t good enough for her; she had to announce her presence with sparkle and glitter and St. Peter’s choir.
“Darlings!”
Sometimes, it sucks being right all the time.
“Leanansidhe,” Ash grumbled, sounding about as thrilled as I felt as the Queen of the Exiles stepped out of the glitter and light and smiled down at us. She looked like she was going to a party where the theme was Most Sparkly Evening Gown, or maybe Quickest Way to Blind Someone. She paused a moment, striking a dramatic pose for her sadly unimpressed audience, before waving her hand and dispersing with the fireworks.
“Lea,” I echoed, smirking at her. “This is a shock. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, away from the Between and all?”
“Puck, darling.” Leanansidhe gave me a smile that was about as welcoming as a viper eyeing a mouse. “Why am I not surprised to see you here? It seems I just got rid of you, pet, and here you are again.”
“That’s me.” I raised my chin. “The bad penny that always pops up. But you didn’t answer my question. What do you want, Lea?”
“From you? Nothing, darling.” Leanansidhe turned to Ash, and he stiffened. “Ash, darling,” she purred. “You are a trouper, aren’t you, pet? I was certain, after you made your knightly oath, that you and the girl would go all Romeo and Juliet on me. But you survived the final battle, after all. Bravo, pet, bravo.”
I snorted. “So what am I, chopped liver?”
Leanansidhe shot me an annoyed glance. “No, darling.” She sighed. “But the Winter prince and I have unfinished business, or didn’t he tell you?” She smiled and looked at Ash again. “He owes me a favor—a rather large favor—for helping him out, and I have come to collect.”
A bargain with the Exile Queen? For a second, I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. “Ice-boy.” I shook my head, exasperated. “Really? You made a deal with her? Are you crazy? You, of all people, should know better.”
“It was for Meghan.” Ash’s voice was low, defensive. “I needed her help.” He looked at Leanansidhe, quietly pleading. “Can this not wait?” he asked in a calm voice, and the question surprised me. Ash rarely made deals, but when he did, he was religious about upholding them. It was a point of personal honor, I guessed, to keep his bargains without fail, without complaint, even if he’d managed to get the bad end of one. This was the very first time I’d heard him ask for more time, the first I’d heard him plead for anything.
But he’d find no sympathy with the Exile Queen. I could’ve told him that. “No, darling,” Leanansidhe said briskly. “I’m afraid it cannot. I know you and Goodfellow are about to go tromping off after Grimalkin, and that, I fear, might take a long time. A very long time. Time I do not have. I am calling in this debt now, and you will help me now. Besides, darling—” Leanansidhe sniffed, making a dramatic gesture with a gloved hand “—after you are done with this, I might be able to help. Finding Grimalkin if he does not wish to be found is a near impossible task. I could, at least, point you in the right direction.”
Ash sighed, looking impatient, but there was nothing he could do. Even I couldn’t wiggle my way out of a contract, though if I had to strike a deal, I always left myself some kind
of loophole. You’d get screwed eight ways from Sunday, otherwise. In the courts, the nobles all loved this game, each one trying to pull a fast one on the other, though most of them knew better than to make a deal with me anymore. Especially after the fiasco with Titania and the donkey ears. Being a legend does have its advantages sometimes.
Ash knew his way around the fey courts, too; he’d grown up having to watch his back. I was surprised he’d allowed himself to strike a bargain with Leanansidhe; he should’ve known it would come back to bite him.
As if he sensed what I was thinking, Ash glared at me, proud and defiant, daring me to say something. He did know, I realized. Mr. Cold, Dark and Broody might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Faery always came to collect, he knew the dangers of bargaining with a dangerous, exiled faery queen. But he’d done it anyway, because of her. Because of the girl we were both crazy for, who was now far away, beyond our reach.
Meghan.
“Fine.” Ash faced the Exile Queen again. “Let’s get this over with. What do you need, Leanansidhe?”
Leanansidhe preened. “Just a small request, darling.” She smiled. “A teensy favor, hardly worth mentioning. You’ll be done in no time.”
Which was Faery speak for “huge, ginormous, dangerous ordeal.” I frowned, but Leanansidhe continued without looking in my direction.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost something,” she continued with a heartfelt sigh. “Something I prize most dearly. Something that cannot be replaced. I would like you to get it back.”
“Lost?” I broke in. “Lost how? Lost like you dropped it down the sink, or lost like it walked out the door and ran off into the woods?”