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Titania, the Queen of Summer, was nothing like Kelley had expected. Perhaps it was all the Victorian fairy paintings she’d seen over the years, or the fact that Tyff, a Summer Fae, looked like the ultimate sun-kissed California beach babe. But, whatever she may or may not have expected, Kelley found herself staring. The queen’s beauty was utterly exotic. Her flawless complexion was the color of honey and ripe peaches; and her hair, piled high in a cascade on her head, was a rich, dark shade of chocolate, shot through with ruby and bronze highlights. Her regal head was set upon a long, graceful neck, and she wore peacock-hued silks that showed tantalizing flashes of burnished skin when she moved.

With a start Kelley realized that she looked almost exactly like the famous bust of the ancient Egyptian queen Nefertiti. Kelley had only a fleeting moment to make that comparison, though, before Titania turned and her dark gold eyes caught and held Kelley in a stare that felt like standing in a beam of late summer sunlight.

“So
you’re
Kelley,” she said, her voice fluid and fair as birdsong. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you—come sit with me, my dear girl.” She gestured to the chair next to her. “Tyffanwy, love—your Queen is parched. Be a dear?”

Tyff smiled and inclined her head gracefully. Then she shot Kelley a wink and flitted off to fetch her queen refreshment.

“All this unpleasantness last Samhain.” Titania shook her head. “Such a pity. Such drama. I’m so sorry for you that you had to discover your heritage in such an untidy fashion. I hear that you had something to do with thwarting the risen Hunt?”

“I . . . I was just in the right place at . . . uh . . . the right time, I guess,” Kelley stammered.

“I’m sure it was much more than that.” Titania smiled.

Kelley thought fleetingly that maybe hanging out with the Fair Folk might not be so bad after all. Not if there were more Faerie like this. Tyff was right—she did like Titania.

The queen reached out and touched her cheek with real warmth. “You’re too modest,” she said.

“No. Really!” Kelley laughed. “It was kind of just dumb luck that I didn’t wind up getting myself killed!”

“Terrible business.” Titania’s gaze roamed over the bobbing heads of the crowd. “Who was it, one wonders, who dared to wake the Wild Hunt?”

“You don’t know?” Kelley didn’t really feel like badmouthing Auberon just at that moment, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. Her father had been the one to loose the Hunt. He had called the Roan Horse with Mabh’s horn. Turned Sonny into a monster . . . But she knew that Titania and Auberon were frequent paramours—almost husband and wife at times—and for this reason Kelley figured that the queen wasn’t really about to vilify Kelley’s father in front of her. Kelley might have had some choice words about him herself, of course, except that she didn’t know where the king and queen’s relationship stood at this particular moment. And, anyway, Titania rescued her from actually having to say anything of the kind by waving the matter away.

“One hears rumors. Of course, I’m not sure anyone really knows
everything
that happened on that horrible night, my dear,” she mused. “Best not to think about it too long. Madness, really.”

“I’ll say,” Kelley agreed wholeheartedly. “That whole night is pretty much just like a bad dream to me, your highness.”

“Of course. I’m so sorry to have brought it up.” The queen leaned in to her then, like a confidante sharing a secret. “But
do
tell me about the boy,” she whispered, her eyes dancing with fun. “The young hero—the Janus favored of the Unseelie king who hunts Mabh’s creatures for him now.”

“Sonny?”

“That’s the one.” The queen smiled, running her fingertip around the corner of her perfect mouth. “Out of all the changelings Auberon ever took into his Court, I was always a little surprised by that one. Now Aaneel—my sweet Indian boy—was exotic
and
the son of a princess. A very handsome child. I could understand why Auberon would desire him as a page.”

Kelley blinked in surprise. She kept forgetting that Shakespeare had actually based at least some of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
on reality.

“But the young Irish boy always seemed so . . . normal to me.” Titania’s laugh was like water falling on silver chimes. “Common, even.”

“He is not!” Kelley protested.

Titania raised a startled eyebrow at her, and Kelley had to restrain herself from leaping rabidly to Sonny’s defense.
Common?
Was Titania even thinking about the same person as she was? she wanted to ask. But the Summer Queen was entitled to her opinion, and this
was
her place. Kelley didn’t want to be rude. She also didn’t want to get caught up in any sort of Faerie head games. Even though Tyff vouched for Titania, Kelley knew that messing with people’s minds was a sort of national pastime among the Fair Folk. So she demurred, saying: “I mean—he’s a Janus. They’re not exactly common, are they? He’s very strong, actually. And smart.”

“I see.” The queen tilted her head.

“And stubborn . . .”
And beautiful and funny and infuriating and a phenomenal kisser and
—Titania was staring closely at her, so Kelley shut up and tried to stop thinking about Sonny before she blushed crimson.

“Well, perhaps I’ve missed something in the boy.” The queen waved a hand dismissively. “You seem to hold him in some sort of regard.”

“Oh, well, I—”

“And naturally I respect the opinions of so bright a girl.” Titania smiled her extraordinary smile. “And so talented, too. I attended your performance on closing night, you know. Lovely. I think you captured my essence brilliantly!”

And then Kelley
did
feel her cheeks reddening. The thought of the
actual
Titania sitting in the audience watching her pretend to be the Queen of Faerie!
Oh gawd . . .

“But you must excuse me; I should attend to my other guests as well.” Titania stood and looked down on Kelley, her golden gaze like a sunbeam. “Be merry and at peace in my house, child of Auberon, daughter of Mabh.”

Kelley watched Titania disappear into the throng and was surprised to see a figure she recognized standing at the edge of the crowd. “Maddox!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet and waving him over, relieved to find a familiar
human
face. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Hullo, Kelley,” he greeted her. “Some party, huh?”

“I thought you Janus types didn’t mix with the Lost Ones,” she said, and then immediately regretted the jibe when Maddox’s expression went stiff and awkward.

But Maddox recovered his composure almost immediately. “Well . . .” He waved a hand. “You know. We’re not all horribly stuffed up like Godwyn.”

“You mean ‘stuck up’?” Kelley grinned.

“Yeah. That.” He nodded, smiling, in his disarming fashion. “I’ve even got a few friends who are Lost Ones. Y’know?”

Right. Like Chloe.

“Hellooo there . . .” Tyff suddenly appeared out of nowhere, putting down a tray of champagne flutes and artfully elbowing Kelley out of the way as she extended her hand toward Maddox. “Kelley never told me she knew
real
men! How naughty of her.”

In the glow of the whirling lights, Maddox blushed almost purple as Tyff’s gaze raked over him. Kelley stifled a laugh.

“Care to dance, handsome?” Not like Tyff was presenting him with options. She already had him halfway to the dance floor.

“Uhh—shouldn’t we keep Kelley company?” Maddox protested loudly enough to be heard.

“Sure!” Tyff yelled over the thundering backbeat. “C’mon, Kell! Come dance!”

“No, no! You go ahead, guys—I’ll just stay here . . . until I can acclimatize myself to this place.” Kelley cast a wary eye at the writhing mass of beautiful bodies. “Don’t worry about me—go have fun. Seriously.”

Tyff sighed and shook her head in frustration but, after a second, relented and gave Kelley a smile. She swung her hair over her shoulder and tightened her grip on Maddox. Together they disappeared into the gyrating crowd.

Kelley watched them go, a tiny sliver of envy working its way into her heart. She wished she could be that carefree. The song ended, and she heard Tyff’s silvery laugh float over the heads of her fellow Fae and all the pretty, oblivious mortals. Another song started—this one more melodic. Not a slow dance, but not a frenetic one, either. Kelley found herself swaying slightly to the beat.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Might I have this dance?”

Kelley turned, a polite refusal on her lips that died when she saw who it was.

“Fennrys?” she asked, surprised. “Okay—Maddox I can kind of understand, but what on earth are
you
doing here?”

“Slumming,” the Fennrys Wolf said archly, casting a bleak eye around at the River’s shimmering patrons.

Kelley crossed her arms and looked up at him. “You guys aren’t here on some kind of stupid babysitting assignment or anything, are you? Because if that’s what this is—”

“Nah,” Fennrys said, glancing down. “Not really my style. Besides, I’ve seen you fight. You can take care of yourself.” He smiled, an expression composed of a crooked twist of his mouth and a glint of mischief in his eyes. “So, how ’bout that dance?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Just plucked the glass from Kelley’s hand and put it on the high table beside her. Then he took her by the wrist and pulled her out onto the floor. Even if she’d resisted, Kelley knew that she didn’t stand much of a chance of successfully defying the Wolf’s wiry strength. And then, she realized that she didn’t want to resist. Tyff was right. Maybe she had been kind of a wet noodle lately. Maybe she’d been putting so much energy into waiting for Sonny to come back, she’d stopped having fun. And . . . Sonny would
want
her to have fun. Wouldn’t he?

So she danced.

It was fun.

S
onny slid off Lucky’s back and gazed around sadly at the devastated grove of elm trees. Smoke-blackened stumps stood like rotting teeth, and the bodies of half a dozen dryads were strewn about, crushing the bluebells beneath them where they lay. The Hunt had been busy.

And he had come too late.

He knelt and lifted one of the dead wood nymphs in his arms and carried her to a sheltered spot beneath a lonely tree that had survived the Hunt’s rampage. When he stood, anger had washed away his sorrow. As if in response to his fury, a wind—wild and tearing—whipped through the clearing and a huge, black warhorse plummeted from the sky like a meteorite, landing with ground-shaking impact and almost crushing Sonny where he stood.

Mabh, Queen of Air and Darkness, slid from the saddle onto the ground, her dark robes swirling about her like ink stirred into water.

Sonny clenched his fist against a sudden feeling of dread. He had not expected the Faerie queen to come after him herself. Perhaps she was feeling anxious now that only three of the Wild Hunters stood between her and a continuation of her imprisonment. But if she was, she gave no outward indication. The queen regarded the fallen bodies of lesser fae remotely.

“What a mess,” she said, as if the place just needed a good sweeping up.

“The Wild Hunt’s handiwork, lady,” Sonny said.

“Naughty things. You’d think they’d nothing better to do.” The disdain was heavy in Mabh’s voice. She turned and regarded Sonny flatly. “Rather like you.”

“I’m only doing my job,” Sonny answered stiffly.

“Spoken like a true lackey, slave of Auberon.”

The Queen’s midnight charger, sensing the foulness of his mistress’s mood, snorted and pawed the ground with a hoof the size of a serving platter, and Sonny heard an anxious whinny from Lucky.

“Think what you like, Mabh.” Sonny bent and lifted another dryad, setting her body down beside that of her sister. “But someone has to clean up in the wake of the chaos you seem so fond of conjuring.”

Mabh uttered a little laugh and, after a moment, seemed to let go of her anger. “You do know that it was not I who released the Wild Hunt from their slumber during the Nine Night.”

“I know that, lady,” Sonny answered, his voice carefully neutral.
And that is something that I will make Auberon pay for one day. . . .

“Yet still you do your cold king’s bidding,” she mused.

“The Wild Hunt are too dangerous to be left free.” Sonny sighed, too tired to play games with the Faerie monarch. “And, forgive me for saying so, but so are you.”

“Well, it’s nice to be appreciated, at least.” Mabh laughed again, but it was a sound that was tinged with sadness.

That surprised Sonny.

“Oh, leave off.” She waved him away as he moved toward the next dryad on the ground. The queen turned from him and grew very still for a moment. Lifting her palms to the sky, she closed her eyes.

Sonny closed his too, against the brightness that swept over them. When he could open them again, what he saw surprised him even more. The bodies of the dryads were gone. In the middle of the little clearing, a gentle swell of earth rose, crowned with six bright-leafed elm saplings. A new freshwater spring bubbled up at the foot of the burial mound, emptying into a tranquil pool that reflected the sky.

“A peace offering,” said the queen. “Let there be truce between us. For the moment, at least.”

Sonny hesitated and then nodded agreement.
What choice do I really have?
he thought.

Mabh’s presence filled the tiny grove with a heady perfume. Ripe, sweet, and spicy like apples ready for harvest. She was intoxicatingly beautiful, even among the Fair Folk. But her beauty could not quell or even compensate for the aura of chaos and danger that accompanied her. A conversation with Mabh was like playing tag with a grizzly bear.

“Come, sit with me and be civil.” The Autumn Queen spun away, crooking one long finger over her shoulder, beckoning Sonny to follow her. At the edge of the glassy pool, she folded gracefully down to sit upon the bank. Reluctantly Sonny followed, sitting far enough away that he was almost directly opposite the little pond from her. He would not look directly into her eyes. He had made that mistake once before and was not eager to repeat it.

“I came here to find you,” Mabh said. “To remind you that you did me a great favor once. I told you that I would not forget.”

Sonny grimaced at the memory. “I wish you would. I made a mistake.”

“I honor my debts, changeling.” Her voice turned on its edge. “You’d be wise to let me.”

“I meant no offense, lady,” Sonny said, his tone sincere.

“Dear creature.” The queen stared flatly at him for a long moment. Then the sparkle returned to her eyes and she laughed—a sound like wind chimes tinkling. “You’d be dead if you did. I say it plainly.”

As plainly as the Fae ever say anything,
Sonny thought.

She seemed to read his mind. “I do not double-deal as some do,” Mabh said, her green, glittering gaze still flashing with merriment.

“Neither do you play entirely fair, lady,” Sonny said, deciding to speak his mind with her. It was quite apparent that as hard as he tried to keep his thoughts quiet, they showed in his face. So he might as well be as up front as Mabh claimed she herself was being.

“You wound me,” she said, pouting playfully.

“I’m supposed to be
hunting
you,” he said, exasperation coloring his words.

“And here I am. Right within arm’s reach. Wasn’t that easy?”

“It would be, if there were anything I could do about it. Which, because the Wild Hunt still rides, there is
not
. As you well know.”

So much of Mabh’s dark, potent magick was tied up in the original spell that had created the Wild Hunt that it would prove useless to try to shackle the Autumn Queen again as long as any of the hunters remained on the loose. Sonny was well aware that, until he finished dealing with
them,
Mabh was essentially untouchable.

“A happy consequence, don’t you think?” Mabh asked, trailing her long perfect nails over the surface of the water, gazing at her own reflection in the rippling surface. When he didn’t answer, she continued, pleasantly conversational. “You were a deal more handsome the last time we met, Janus. Not quite so . . . scruffy. My daughter will be disappointed. You do remember my daughter, do you not?” She laughed at the expression on his face. “Not to worry. I’m sure she remembers you—at least, I think she does. I do try to keep in touch with the dear thing and, well, frankly, she hasn’t really mentioned you in a few months. Young love. Such a fickle wind, don’t you agree? Perhaps you should have thought twice before leaving her all alone in the mortal realm. Just like her father did before you, poor girl.”

“Lady.” Sonny ground his teeth together in an effort to stay civil to the Faerie queen. “You mock me—it is an ungentle thing for a queen to do.”

“Touché, Sonny Flannery.” Mabh smiled. The flickering nimbus of her wings shed dark, sparkling points of light that danced on the surface of the spring pool. “Such a fierce young thing you are. . . . Think about my offer. Under altered circumstances, I could find a use for such a one as you in my Court.”

“You’ll pardon me, lady, if I seem a bit weary of being used these days.”

Mabh sighed. “Fierce, but humorless. All those years living under Auberon’s chilly blue thumb have done you a disservice. I sometimes don’t know what my daughter sees in you.”

Kelley
. . . Sonny ached at the thought of her.

Mabh gazed at him, a knowing glint in her eye. “If she still sees anything at all.”

Sonny glared over the queen’s shoulder, refusing to rise to her bait.

“And what about you, Sonny Flannery? Sent away from Court, so deep into this shadow-bound country, so very far away from the mortal realm and your ladylove. Why, you’ve become a virtual hermit, Sonny. A warrior monk. I wonder if anyone even remembers that you’re out here, doing the good king’s work. Or why.”

“
I
remember.”

“Do you think
she
still does?” Mabh asked softly. “Was this pointless quest worth leaving Kelley?”

“Don’t speak her name!” Sonny was on his feet. He wasn’t even aware of having stood, but suddenly he towered over the Faerie Queen.

“I will speak her name if I damn well please, fleshling,” Mabh hissed up at him, her green eyes sparking like lightning. “You’re not the only one who cares for her, and you’re most
certainly
not the only one who’s lost her!”

“I haven’t lost her.” He averted his face so that she wouldn’t see the doubt in his eyes. Doubt that had not been there a moment ago. The thought of losing Kelley was unbearable to him. “She waits for me. She
has
to—”

“Perhaps.” Mabh shrugged. “Perhaps not.” She turned back to the little spring pool and drew a circle on the silvery surface.

Sonny remained standing, uncertain.
I should leave,
he thought.

“Oh, come now,” Mabh murmured sweetly, “let us be friends.” The water within the circle she traced grew dark, and Sonny could see shadows and shapes flickering in the depths. “Wouldn’t you like to see what our darling girl is up to?”

In spite of himself, Sonny knelt back down on the grass and glanced into the Faerie queen’s improvised scrying pool. He had no wish to spy on Kelley. Still, he found he could not look away when he saw glimpses of her soaring over the Central Park Lake on dark, glimmering wings, an expression of fierce elation lighting up her face. When the scene shifted, morphing into chaotic flashes of what looked like some kind of fight, Sonny leaned forward in alarm, straining to make sense of the jumbled images. Suddenly they cleared, and he saw Kelley, a mad wind whipping her hair in a fiery cloud about her head and frothing the surface of the waters that sloshed about her ankles. He saw the flaring darklight of her wings and then saw the howling tornadoes of Mabh’s Storm Hags descend upon the scene. The wild, dangerous look on Kelley’s face made her look so much like her mother that it gave Sonny a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. But not nearly as much as the last, lingering image that flared up in the water—the image of Kelley throwing her arms around another man.
Fennrys.

Kneeling beside him, Mabh peered intently into the water, a wicked little grin curling her lips. “Ooh!” she exclaimed. “See there! How delightful.”

Sonny felt as though he’d been sucker-punched.

“She seems like such a romantic little thing. Very susceptible to knights in shining armor. Believe me—I
know
the type.”

The images in the pond faded, and the queen turned back to Sonny. Tilting her head delicately on her long neck, she regarded him with a languid head-to-toe glance as he struggled to compose himself.

Her laugh was low and throaty. “Of course . . .
you,
brave boy, are looking rather more tarnished than shiny at the moment.”

Sonny shivered, avoiding meeting her eyes directly as Mabh’s gaze slid over his chest and up to his face.

Suddenly the queen rose and, gathering her cloak around her, swept regally toward her waiting charger. Mabh mounted her enormous horse with unaided grace and stared down at Sonny.

Sonny stood, stiffly. His hands were clenched into fists that he could not seem to loosen. He barely heard Mabh as she spoke: “Think about what I have said. I
do
owe you a favor, Sonny Flannery. And the favor of a Faerie queen is not something to be squandered.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, lady,” Sonny mumbled, turning away from Mabh’s green-eyed stare, so like her daughter’s.

“While you’re at it, run a comb over your head. Maybe shave once in a while. Boys can be such grubby things, left to their own devices. I shudder to think what Kelley would say if she could see you now.” Her horse pawed at the air, but Mabh hauled effortlessly on the reins, checking the great beast. She looked down at Sonny, the sculpted planes of her face lit by the midnight glow of her shadowy wings. “Love is not nearly as blind as you’d think, Sonny Flannery. Nor as patient.”

His heart hurting, Sonny stood in the middle of the glade, watching as the Queen of Air and Darkness climbed into the sky on the back of her storm-cloud horse.

Then she was gone. Except for a breath of her voice on the wind.

“Joy to you,” it whispered in mocking tones. “And good hunting.”