The cell they'd put us in wasn't terrible, as prisons went. Clean stone walls, two wooden benches that could serve as beds, and enough space that Garrick and I weren't sitting on top of each other. There were even small windows near the ceiling that let in moonlight, though the iron bars were thick enough to remind us we weren't going anywhere.

  Garrick's wrists were bound with some kind of crystalline material that shimmered with inner light. When I'd asked what it was, the guard smirked and said it captures any attempt at using cosmic and astral energy by absorbing the energy driving any spell.

  So we were well and truly stuck.

  "You know," Garrick said from his bench, breaking the silence that had settled over us for the past hour, "this reminds me of Prague."

  I looked over at him. "Prague? How does this remind you of Prague?"

  "The basement. Pavel's basement, specifically." Garrick shifted, trying to get comfortable despite the shackles. "Remember? When we were captured and he was slowly draining our blood, and we were pretty sure we were going to die down there?"

  "Oh, that situation." I couldn't help but smile despite our circumstances. "Yeah, I remember thinking 'this is it, this is how I die—locked in a vampire's basement in Prague because I followed a cosmic hero through a portal.'"

  "But you got us out," Garrick said. "You'd planned ahead. That message you sent to Prince Samuel before we got captured—that was brilliant."

  "It was lucky," I corrected. "And I don't have any surprise phone calls to save us this time."

  Garrick was quiet for a moment. "Do you even get cell signal in the Fae Realm?"

  I stared at him. He stared back. And then we both started laughing—the kind of slightly hysterical laughter that comes from being in an impossible situation and having absolutely no control over it.

  "We're going to Nocturne Island," I managed between laughs. "We're going to spend years in a prison that makes this cell look like a luxury resort, and we're joking about cell phone reception."

  "What else can we do?" Garrick said, his laughter fading into something more resigned. "At least we completed the Task. Technically."

  "Technically," I agreed. "We gave them gifts they valued equally. We brought both courts together for a feast. We did everything right, and we're still screwed."

  "Story of our lives," Garrick said.

  We sat in silence after that, and I found myself thinking about Saoirse. About the way she'd looked at me during the feast, the faith in her eyes when I was standing in front of both courts with nothing to offer. About the kiss we'd shared before the guards took us away.

  If I never saw her again. If Nocturne Island was really as bad as it sounded? At least I'd had that. At least I'd known what it felt like to be seen and valued and loved by someone like her.

  The sound of footsteps interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up to see Saoirse herself approaching our cell. She looked terrified. Her eyes were wide, and her hands trembled slightly as she approached the iron bars.

  "How can you be laughing?" she demanded, her voice tight with fear and frustration. "Do you know what you're facing? Do you understand what Nocturne Island is?"

  "We have a general idea," I said, standing and moving toward the bars. Not too close—I didn't want to risk her accidentally touching the iron.

  "No, you don't." Saoirse's voice cracked. "Nocturne Island is where they send people who are never meant to come back. It's shrouded in eternal night, Mac. No sun, no moon, just darkness and creatures from nightmares. Things that make the Warrior Sidhe quiver with fear. Things that—" She stopped, taking a shaky breath. "People don't survive Nocturne Island."

  She reached through the bars carefully, avoiding the iron, and touched my face. Her hand was cold, or maybe I was just warm from panic.

  "I've been trying to talk to Titania and Oberon," she said. "Trying to explain that you didn't steal the Rose and Crown to run away with them. That you were going to present them as gifts, that everything you did was to complete the Task." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Titania empathizes. She understands doing foolish things in the name of love. But she can't ignore Fae Law, Mac. The entire stability of the Fae Realm is built on those laws. If she violated them, even for you, it could cause catastrophe and chaos for everyone."

  "So we're out of options," I said quietly.

  "Not entirely." Saoirse's jaw set with determination. "Your only hope is to get the items back. If the Rose and Crown are returned, if the theft is undone, then maybe—"

  "If Lucien took them, they're as good as gone," Garrick interrupted from his bench. "That man is too clever by half. He's probably already sold them or hidden them somewhere we'll never find them."

  "Then I'll find him," Saoirse said fiercely. "I'll track him down, I'll get those items back, and I'll bring them to the trial tomorrow." She looked at me, and there was such determination in her face that I almost believed it was possible. "I will do everything I can to get you out of this."

  "Time's up," the guard said from down the corridor. "Visitor needs to leave."

  "Wait—" I started, but Saoirse was already pulling back from the bars.

  I grabbed her hand before she could move away completely and kissed it, pressing my lips to her fingers because I couldn't risk getting close enough to the iron bars to kiss her properly.

  "Be careful," I said. "Don't do anything that'll get you in trouble too."

  "I'll find him," she said, and it sounded like a promise. "I will."

  Then the guard was escorting her away, and I was left staring after her, hoping desperately that she could pull off a miracle.

  Dawn came too quickly.

  They escorted us from the cell just as the sun was rising, though we couldn't see it from inside the palace. Garrick's shackles remained on, still neutralizing his powers, and guards surrounded us as we walked through corridors that seemed less beautiful now that we were walking them as prisoners.

  The trial was being held in an outdoor court, which I supposed made sense given how many Fae would want to watch. When we emerged into the open air, I saw both of Oberon's and Titania's courts in attendance.

  The outdoor court was arranged in a semicircle of white stone benches, all facing a raised platform where Titania and Oberon sat on elevated thrones that looked down on a small platform, which Garrick and I were lead to. The morning sun caught Titania's red-gold hair and made Oberon's bronze skin gleam. They looked every inch the powerful rulers they were.

  They also looked sad, which somehow made this worse.

  We were led to the center of the space, and a Fae official I didn't recognize—not the seneschal from before—stepped forward with a scroll.

  "Mac Sullivan, mortal, and Garrick the Gallant, cosmic traveler," the official read in a voice that carried across the assembled courts. "You stand accused of theft of precious royal items, specifically the Rose of Happiness and the Crown of Living Flowers. You are further accused of violation of guest rights and unauthorized entry into the Summer Palace. How do you answer these charges?"

  I looked at Garrick. He looked at me. We'd discussed this in the cell—there was no point in denying what we'd done.

  "Guilty," I said. "With explanation."

  "The court will hear your explanation after testimony," the official said, then turned to the guards who'd spotted me. "You witnessed the accused at the palace entrance?"

  "Yes," the first guard said. "He appeared suddenly, glowing pink, an obvious sign of Blendstep invisibility wearing off. He was acting suspicious and claimed to be testing potions."

  "And you granted him access to the palace previously?" Titania asked.

  "He was a guest, Your Majesty. He'd been invited to dine with you."

  Titania turned to me. "Mac Sullivan, did you enter the palace while invisible?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Did you take the Rose of Happiness from Lord Oberon's chambers?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty, but.."

  "Did you take the Crown of Living Flowers from my garden?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  The crowd murmured, and I saw several Fae shaking their heads.

  "Mac Sullivan," Oberon said, and his voice was heavy. "Why did you not simply ask us for these items? If you wanted to present them as gifts, we might have granted permission."

  "I wanted it to be a surprise, my lord," I said. "I thought—I believed that the surprise would make the gesture more meaningful. That if you saw the Rose and Crown again without warning, the memories would be more powerful."

  "Context does not change the action," Titania said quietly. "Intent does not change the law. You entered our palace without invitation. You took items that were not yours to take. These are violations of guest rights, Mac Sullivan. Serious violations."

  "I understand, Your Majesty."

  "The items have not been returned," the official said. "Without their return, the theft stands as committed."

  Titania and Oberon looked at each other, and something passed between them. Then they both turned back to face us.

  "Mac Sullivan and Garrick the Gallant," Titania began, "for the crimes of theft and violation of guest rights, we find you—"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Pardon me," a voice interrupted from somewhere in the crowd, "but I believe I can help with that situation."

  Every head turned, and there—walking up from the back of the assembled court as if he'd been sitting there all along—was Lucien Leblanc.

  He looked exactly as I remembered: impeccably dressed in that beautifully tailored, very expensive coat, dark hair perfectly styled, and that infuriating smile on his impeccably handsome face. He moved with easy confidence, bowing to both rulers as he approached the platform.

  "Lucien Leblanc," Oberon said, his voice hard. "The thief we've been hunting. Guards—"

  "Please, my lord," Lucien said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I come bearing gifts. Important gifts, I think you'll find." He produced a case from his coat—the protective case I'd been carrying when he'd trapped me. "The Rose of Happiness and the Crown of Living Flowers. Both in perfect condition, I assure you."

  The crowd erupted in surprised murmurs. Titania and Oberon both stood, staring at the case.

  "You stole them," I said, anger flooding through me. "You took them from me—"

  "I borrowed them, mon ami," Lucien corrected, still smiling. "And I apologize for that deception. But you see, it was all part of a grander plan." He turned back to the rulers. "Your Majesties, I took these items from Mac Sullivan not out of malice, but out of necessity. I needed them for what I'm about to do."

  He opened the case, and even from where I stood, I could see that he'd taken care of them. The Rose looked freshly bloomed, its petals perfect. The Crown's flowers and ivy were vibrant, as if they'd been woven yesterday instead of centuries ago.

  "I am but a humble thief," Lucien said, and his voice carried across the court with practiced charm. "But even thieves can appreciate true love when they see it. And Your Majesties—" he looked between Titania and Oberon, "—your love is legendary. It strengthens not just yourselves, but the entire Summer Court. The realm itself is more vibrant, more alive, it thrives when you are together."

  He stepped forward and offered the case to them.

  "I took these items so that I might return them to you now, at this moment, when you need the reminder most. You separated not because your love died, but because you forgot how to nurture it. These—" he gestured to the Rose and Crown, "—these are not just objects. They are promises. They are the physical manifestation of what you swore to each other long ago."

  Titania reached out with trembling hands and took the Rose. She brought it to her face and inhaled, and I saw her eyes widen.

  "It smells like lavendar," she whispered. "And wild honey. And..." She looked at Oberon. "And you. It smells like you did when you first gave this to me."

  Oberon took the Crown, and his expression shifted into something vulnerable. "I'd forgotten," he said quietly. "I'd forgotten what it felt like when you made this. The magic you wove into every strand. The promise you offered me."

  They looked at each other, and the air itself seemed to shift. Then Titania set down the Rose, Oberon set down the Crown, and they came together in the middle of the platform.

  The kiss was not gentle. It was fierce and claiming and full of centuries of passion and frustration and love that had never really gone away. Titania's hands were in Oberon's hair, Oberon's arms were around her waist, and they kissed like they were about to consummate their reunion right there in front of both courts.

  The crowd erupted in cheers. Several Fae started kissing each other, caught up in the moment. The energy was infectious—joyful and primal and completely unrestrained.

  I looked at Garrick, who was grinning despite everything. "Well," he said, "at least someone's having a good day."

  Titania and Oberon finally broke apart, both breathing hard, both looking at each other like they'd just remembered why they'd fallen in love in the first place.

  "You were right," Titania said to Lucien, her voice slightly breathless. "We did forget. We forgot what this felt like."

  "Thank you," Oberon added. "Truly. This gift—returning these items to us—this is worth more than you know."

  "Actually," Lucien said, his smile widening, "there is something you could do for me, if you're feeling generous and it’s worth as much as you say."

  And there it was. The moment we'd been waiting for. Because Lucien never did anything without getting something in return.

  "Name it," Titania said, still holding Oberon's hand.

  "Two things, Your Majesties. First, I would ask that Mac Sullivan and Garrick the Gallant be given credit for completing their Task. After all, it was Mac's plan to use these items as gifts. I simply... facilitated the presentation." He smiled at us, and I felt rage building in my chest. "Their sentences should be commuted. They completed what you asked, even if the method was unorthodox."

  Titania and Oberon looked at each other, then nodded.

  "Agreed," Oberon said. "The Task is complete and the items returned. Their transgressions are—"

  "Second," Lucien interrupted smoothly, "I would ask for forgiveness of all my recent transgressions in the Fae Realm. I know I've caused some trouble during my stay, and I would very much like to leave with a clean slate."

  I audibly grumbled. Again. Again Lucien would be getting off without consequences.

  "All recent transgressions in the Fae Realm," Titania repeated. "That seems reasonable, given what you've done for us. What say you, husband?"

  "I agree," Oberon said. "Let it be proclaimed: Lucien Leblanc's recent transgressions in the Fae Realm are forgiven. He may leave the realm with no charges against him."

  "So witnessed by both rulers of Summer," the official said formally. "So bound by Fae Law."

  The moment the words were spoken, I felt something shift. The air itself seemed to ripple, and I heard a sound like distant chimes. Magic, locking into place. Making the proclamation binding and real.

  And Garrick's shackles suddenly unlocked and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Garrick stared at his freed wrists, cosmic energy already beginning to flicker around his fingers.

  Then came the sound.

  A portal tearing open—not smooth like when Garrick opened Ways, but violent, accompanied by thunder that made several Fae cover their ears. A rip in reality, emanating cold that made frost form on the nearby grass.

  Through the portal stepped a figure in dark armor, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant.

  A Winter Court emissary.

  They were tall—taller than any Fae I'd seen—and covered in armor that looked like it had been forged from black ice. Sharp edges everywhere, frost clinging to every surface, and eyes like the deep winter that promised death to everything warm and living. Their face was pale, almost blue, and when they spoke, their breath came out in visible clouds.

  "How DARE Summer presume to forgive transgressions against Winter?" The voice carried across the court like a blade of ice. "Who is responsible for this insult?"

  The assembled courts had gone silent. Even Titania and Oberon looked shocked.

  "What transgression against Winter?" Oberon demanded, stepping forward. "We forgave crimes committed in our realm—"

  "The Winter Ring," the emissary said, and their voice was colder now. "The Ring of Queen Maleena, stolen by the thief Lucien Leblanc. Winter hired Garrick the Gallant to retrieve it. Instead, he brought the thief here, where he has been causing chaos in your realm. And now you dare to forgive his crimes?"

  Oh no.

  Oh no.

  I looked at Lucien, and he was standing now, smiling wider than ever. He raised his hand, and there on his finger was a ring I hadn't noticed before—white silver with a deep purple crystal that seemed to contain swirling mist.

  "Yes," Lucien said, his voice full of triumph. "I did steal the Winter Ring. But as you just heard, Their Majesties have forgiven all my recent transgressions in the Fae Realm. Which includes crimes I committed before entering the Fae Realm, provided I brought the evidence with me. Which I did." He held up the ring. "Winter has no case against me. No claim. The law has spoken."

  "You—" the emissary started.

  But Lucien touched the crystal with his opposite hand's index finger, stepped forward, and vanished.

  Not disappeared like shimmering and going invisible. Vanished—like he'd been sucked into a pinpoint hole in reality, shrinking and gone in less than a second.

  The court erupted into chaos. Fae were shouting, some were arguing, and the Winter emissary's expression had gone from cold to absolutely murderous.

  "SILENCE," they commanded, and their voice carried such power that every Fae immediately stopped talking.

  The emissary turned to face Titania and Oberon. "Summer has aided a criminal in escaping Winter's justice. This is noted. Recorded. Winter will remember." They turned to look directly at me and Garrick. "While we cannot act directly against Lucien Leblanc at this moment, we can hold accountable those who failed to retrieve our property. Those who made the situation worse."

  "We tried—" I started.

  "You failed," the emissary interrupted. "And failure has consequences." They raised one armored hand, and frost began forming in the air. "A Barghest will be sent to apprehend you both. It will extract payment in blood and flesh for Winter's loss. And before you consider running—know that a Barghest can track its prey anywhere in the Realm of the Fae. There is nowhere you can hide."

  Then they stepped back through the portal, and it sealed behind them with a crack like breaking ice.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Titania and Oberon looked at each other, then at us, and I saw genuine regret in both their faces.

  "We cannot help you," Titania said quietly. "If we interfere with Winter's justice, it could start a war between our courts. The balance is too fragile, the consequences too severe."

  "What do we do?" I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

  "You run," Oberon said bluntly. "You run as fast as you can, and you get out of the Fae Realm before the Barghest reaches you."

  "Garrick," I said, turning to him, "open a portal. Get us out of here."

  "We need to get the Wandering Kitchen, we can’t leave it here," Garrick said, cosmic energy already building around his hands. "And I need a place of power to open a Way. I can't just create portals out of nowhere when I’m outside of our world—I need natural focal points of magical energy."

  "The nearest place of power is a circle of Standing Stones," Oberon said, pointing north. "About five miles through the forest. But Mac Sullivan, Garrick the Gallant—the Barghest will reach you before you get there. They're impossibly fast, tireless, and they exist to hunt."

  He looked at Saoirse, who had been standing frozen in the crowd, and his expression hardened. "Summer cannot aid them. Do you understand? Cannot. Not without declaring ourselves against Winter."

  Saoirse nodded, but I could see her mind working.

  A sound made everyone turn—the thunder of hooves approaching at speed.

  The Golden Stag burst through the crowd, scattering Fae as it galloped directly toward us. It slowed as it reached the platform, snorting and tossing its magnificent head.

  "I," the Stag said in its deep bass voice, "am not of Summer or Winter. I am of the forest, of the wild spaces, and I aid whom I please." It looked at us with those too-intelligent eyes. "I will gladly help the mortal Stagrider and Garrick Snowfriend. Mount up. We have very little time."

  "Thank you," I breathed.

  "Don't thank me yet," the Stag said. "We still need to outrun a Barghest. Now move!"

  We ran—through the courts, past Fae who were still processing what had just happened, toward the guest grounds where the Wandering Kitchen waited. Saoirse ran with us, and I didn't have the heart to tell her to stay behind.

  The Wandering Kitchen was exactly as I'd left it, and I spoke the deactivation word that made the poles collapse and the canvas fold. Within seconds, I had it rolled into its compact form and was strapping it to my pack with shaking hands.

  "Mac."

  I turned, and Saoirse was there, her face pale but determined.

  "I'll find you," she said. "On your next adventure. Wherever you go. I will find you."

  "Saoirse—"

  She kissed me, hard and desperate, and I kissed her back like it might be the last time. When we broke apart, she pressed something into my hand—a small crystal, similar to the communication crystal she'd given me before.

  "Let me know when you're safe," she said. "Please."

  "I will," I promised. "I swear."

  "MAC!" Garrick shouted. "We need to go NOW!"

  I looked toward the southern horizon and saw it—a shape racing toward us across the landscape. It was enormous, black as midnight, running on four legs with a speed that shouldn't be possible. Even from this distance, I could see red eyes and bared teeth.

  The Barghest.

  And it was coming fast.

  I grabbed my pack, Garrick grabbed his supplies, and we both ran toward where the Golden Stag waited. Mounting a stag while wearing a full pack is not graceful, but we managed, Garrick in front and me behind him, holding on to whatever I could grip.

  "Five miles," the Stag said. "Hold on tight, mortals. This is going to be very close."

  I looked back one more time. Saw Saoirse standing there, her hand raised in farewell. I saw the Barghest getting closer, close enough now that I could hear its howl—a sound that made my bones ache and my blood run cold.

  "Go!" I shouted.

  The Golden Stag ran, and the world became a blur of forest and speed and desperate hope that we'd reach the Standing Stones before the Barghest reached us.