Tania stared at Edric. Unable to draw breath. Stunned beyond thought.

“Captain Chanticleer of Weir!” Rathina spat, spinning to aim the iron sword at Edric. “I should have known it was the stink of Dark Arts that fouled the air!”

Edric turned to her. “Greetings, my lady Rathina,” he said smoothly. “Wouldst thou kill me? That were scant courtesy from a long-awaited guest. I fear our hosts would take it amiss.”

Rathina hissed, her expression venomous. “It was you I sensed out on the ocean—the peril that haunted us. You from the start!”

“I am not your enemy, my lady,” Edric said, his voice firm and clear. “Put down your sword; none here wish you harm.”

“Yeah, right!” came Connor’s voice. “You chased us all the way from Weir just to say hi, I suppose?”

Edric’s eyes turned to him. “Still with us, Connor?” he said. “I’d have thought you long gone, your tail between your legs and whimpering for home.”

Connor’s voice was clipped but steady. “Yup, still here,” he replied lightly, but there was a cold glint in his eyes.

It took Tania every shred of self-control to find the strength to hold Edric’s eyes and to speak to him. Even then such a void of misery ached inside her that she could hardly bear to look at him.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was strained. “How did you avoid getting caught by the Gildensleep?”

The noise from the banqueting room had lessened, and Tania was aware that many eyes were fixed on them—not least the lord and lady, staring from one to the other in silent consternation.

“Such questions will be answered to your satisfaction, Tania,” Edric said. “But for now may we not defer to the kindness of our good hosts and join the banquet? We will have ample time to speak together over the course of the evening.”

“Stop it!” Tania shouted, her whole body contracting in a spasm of hurt and denial. “Stop talking like that!” She could feel her face burning. “Why are you talking to me like that?”

It was more than she could stand. He had never used that Faerie formality with her before—they had always spoken to one another in normal English. It had been one of the bonds that held them together—the way they could step away from all the stiff procedure and ceremony of Faerie and just be themselves.

Themselves? And what did that mean?

Herself: a half-Faerie, half-Mortal split to the heart by the contradictions of her two lives. And Edric? Who was he now? Not the boy she had met in school, that was certain. Evan Thomas was long gone and in his place was this Captain of Weir—who still looked like the person she loved but who stood aloof from her and spoke like a polite stranger.

A flash of concern came into his face and he stepped toward her, his hands lifting as though to embrace her.

“Stand back!” growled Rathina, the blade hovering at his breastbone.

“Don’t be so stupid!” Edric said fiercely. “Do you think I’d hurt her? Ever?”

His eyes were intent on Tania’s. “I will explain,” he whispered. “Trust me—please.”

She took a long shuddering breath. “Put the sword away, Rathina,” she said.

Reluctantly, her eyes glowing like embers, Rathina let the point of the sword droop. “Harm her and you die,” she said to Edric. “There will be no further warning.” She slid the sword into her waistband. “Well, now,” she said, hands on hips. “Who shall untangle the knots of this sinister imbroglio?”

“I do not understand,” Lord Cillian broke in, stepping forward. “Captain Chanticleer—you led us to believe that these good people were friends of yours. Indeed, those were your very words when you and your companion came here: that you were expecting three great friends to arrive imminently from the far northern fiefdoms of Alba!”

So, Edric has not told them where we really come from. . . .

Lord Cillian’s forehead contracted in a frown. “And here you are in conflict! Have you played me false, sir?”

“I have not, my lord,” said Edric. “Hot blood, high hearts, and misunderstood motives are at the root of our discord.”

Connor turned to the lord. “I thought you said only good people could get across the lake,” he demanded. “If that’s true how did he get here?” He glared at Edric. “What did you do—use some of that Dark Arts stuff to sneak your way through?”

“Stop it!” snapped Tania, feeling protective of Edric under Connor’s attack. She turned her eyes to him. “Who are you here with, Edric? Lord Cillian mentioned a companion.”

Edric hesitated and Tania could see the unease in his eyes.

“Who is it?” she asked again.

“Hollin,” Edric said, avoiding her gaze. “But he’s under my command, and he won’t be a problem, I promise.”

Hollin the Healer! The very thought of that man made Tania feel sick to her stomach. The last time she had encountered him he had tried to have her thrown to her death from a high window of Veraglad Palace. Only the intervention of the earl marshall had saved her life, and still Hollin had spat his fury at her: “The half-thing must be destroyed ere it taint us all!”

Tania was the half-thing that needed destroying. But it wasn’t his hatred that chilled her heart; it was the fact that his loathing and his invective were fueled by a deep terror of her. Hollin truly believed that she was an evil thing that needed to be annihilated.

And he was here? And Edric was asking her to believe that he had control over the fanatical healer?

“He will be no problem, forsooth?” cried Rathina. “Nay, not with his head severed from his neck he will not!”

“No violence, on your mercy!” cried Lord Cillian.

Then a new voice sounded, and Hollin stepped suddenly into view from the banqueting hall and stood at Edric’s side.

Tania stared at him. A large man of middle years, tall and broad-shouldered, he was dressed as she remembered: in a plain yellow habit with a rope belt. A thin white circlet banded his tawny hair, a sapphire stone shining in the center of his forehead. But in his green eyes there was none of the madness that she had seen when last she had confronted him.

“If my death is the only proof of my repentance, then kill me now, my lady,” said the healer, taking a step forward then dropping to one knee, his head bowed. “For know you I come on my lord’s bidding and mean no evil to you nor to your companions.”

“This is bull!” Connor snapped, looking at Tania. “We can’t trust him—he tried to kill you!”

Rathina’s hand was on her sword hilt again. “Say the word, sister,” she growled. “One clean sweep and the world will be cleansed of this canker.”

But as much as Tania feared and mistrusted the man, she was not prepared to have him killed like that.

“Why are you here?” she asked, lifting her gaze from Hollin and looking at Edric. “Why have you followed us?”

For a long moment Edric looked into her eyes without speaking, then: “To save you,” he said. “I’m here to save you, Tania.”

The banqueting hall of Fendrey Holm was ablaze with the light of a thousand candles and vibrant with voices. Musicians set on a low dais in one corner of the room vied to be heard over the hubbub, the measured tones of harpsichord, viol, and lute forming counterpoint to the sweet singing of a trio of boys in white robes.

Three long tables were set near the tapestry-covered walls, leaving a wide-open space for dancing. Even in her distracted and uneasy state Tania couldn’t help but be amazed at the extravagant display. The tables were decked out with crystal candelabrum, their flittering light glinting down onto the elegant white tableware and onto knives, forks, and spoons of exquisitely carved and decorated crystal, as blue as a summer sky. Down the center of the room there ran an enclosed stream of clear water with banks of stones and moss picked out with reeds and water lilies—and in the water swam shoals of small shining goldfish.

The food was sumptuous and plentiful, filling the long hall with a multitude of rich aromas, both savory and sweet. Servants in white moved discreetly among the guests, removing empty dishes and replacing them with fresh courses: from oysters and mussels and cray-fish in bowls of crushed ice to roasted chicken and beef on the bone and other steaming meats to creamy yellow bread and platters of salmon and trout and perch. And there were bowls of salad and of flowers, the perfumes of primrose and marigold mixing with the aromas of sage and rosemary and chives.

For those who had had enough of savory food, there were great flagons filled with strawberries and tureens of baked damsons and plums and gooseberries sprinkled with sugar and nutmeg and cinnamon, served with ewers of fresh white cream.

People would come and go from the tables, making their way to the center of the room to join in the stately and lively dances. Tania was almost giddy from the whirl of brightly colored dresses and tunics.

But she felt alone and detached—as though she was watching it all from some cold and secluded place, her nose pressed against the glass. Even having Rathina on her right and Connor to her left did not anchor her, and her mind drifted in a sick haze.

She’d been given little choice but to join the banquet. What else could she do? Let Rathina loose on Hollin, spill his blood on the tiled floor? And as for Edric—Tania’s emotions were so tangled by this meeting with him that she was beyond thought. She and Connor and Rathina had been led to seats at the table and food had been placed in front of them.

The Festival of Danu Danann had continued.

Tania ate virtually nothing—two small mouthfuls and her stomach had contracted like knotted rope. She had one aim in mind—one purpose in enduring all this—and that was to find a way to speak quietly with Lord Cillian or Lady Derval and tell her true reason for being here—and then to ask them for help in getting to Erin. Once she had that information, they would retrieve their horses and ride away from here— from Edric and the healer, from all of this deadly confusion.

She looked around the huge room. There was Edric seated at the middle table—only occasionally visible to her through the rainbow swirl of dancers— speaking with Hollin and with the lord and lady. Looking so . . . so casual—so natural. Why wasn’t his stomach in knots? Why wasn’t he ill with the pain of lost love the way she was?

Love never dies in Faerie?

Big joke!

“You’re not eating.”

Tania turned to look at Connor seated at her side. “I’m not hungry.”

“You will be,” he said. “It’s best to get something in your stomach while you have the chance. You might be glad of it in a few days’ time.”

She smiled without humor. “Nice impersonation of my mother, Connor.”

“Which one? Queen Titania or Mary Palmer?”

She winced at this.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his face remorseful. “That was harsh. I take it back, okay?”

She nodded.

Demons and angels fought for control in her mind. What would you give to go back a few months and make some different choices? Remember the first time Gabriel Drake appeared to you—in the hospital after the boat crash? Knowing what you know now would you still follow him? Would you still take his hand and let yourself be pulled into Faerie?

“Tania? Will you dance with me?”

A hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts. She twisted in her chair, staring up into Edric’s face, noting that the formality had gone from his speech.

“You want us to dance?” She didn’t even try to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

He held out a hand. “Please.” His eyes pleaded even more than his voice. “They’re playing a saraband.”

They had danced the saraband together on the eve of the Hand-Fasting Ceremony of Cordelia and Bryn.

In the Royal Palace of Faerie two young lovers twirling deliriously together—twenty million years ago on the other side of the world! Tania thought.

She could feel Connor’s eyes on her, and at her other side Rathina was watching her attentively over the rim of a crystal goblet.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Tania asked, keeping her voice neutral now. Playing it ice-cold. But she felt light-headed all the same—as if the festivities were getting into her brain.

“Yes. I’m quite sure.” He drew back her chair and took her hand. She found herself standing and walking to the far end of the table, hand-in-hand with Edric. She glanced at him, tall and handsome at her side.

“Where’s the necklace I gave you?” he murmured.

“I . . . lost it. . . .”

“That’s a shame.”

She blinked, trying to focus her mind. “I threw it away.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you messing with my mind?” she asked, the candlelight dazzling her.

“What do you mean?”

“I was planning on saying no to dancing with you.”

“I’m glad you said yes.” He led her to the outer edge of the dance floor, the joyful dancers swinging past them like figures on a magical carousel.

“I didn’t . . . say . . . yes. . . .” Dreamy now and vague . . .

His lips came close to her ear. “Don’t overthink it— enjoy,” he said. They were among the dancers, hands clasped, whirling to the triple meter of the music, her eyes on his face and his eyes looking deep into her as though nothing else existed but the dance and the flashing candles and silvery light of his enchanting gaze.

“Are you happy, Tania?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

She was alone with Edric on a wide veranda of white marble. Beyond the carved balustrade the land stepped down in terraces of fir and holly to the water’s edge. There was the smell of pine, fresh and intoxicating. The still, black water reflected the sky so that both above and below, the world was sewn with twinkling diamonds. Faint music played from far away, floating on the air.

“I’m glad,” Edric murmured as they leaned on the cool, white rail, their arms touching, her head tilted slightly to rest on his shoulder.

It was curious—she couldn’t quite remember how they had got here. She remembered dancing and laughter and music, the thrill of being in Edric’s arms, the wonder of his shining eyes. But then it all became a blur. A nice blur—warm and soft and comforting.

Although . . .

“Edric . . . where are we . . . ?”

“Does it matter?” he whispered, and she could feel his lips touching her hair. “We’re together again; that’s all that matters.”

“Again?” As she spoke, a cautionary voice called out from the peaceful daze of her mind. A voice telling her that this was not real, that their love and their happiness were broken and ruined.

She pulled away from him and looked into his silvery eyes. “This is all wrong,” she said, the words melting and falling apart in her mouth, the white bliss stirring in her mind, becoming threaded with gray. . . . “This isn’t . . . true. . . . None of it is!”

Edric’s hands came up to cradle her cheeks. There was sadness in his face now and loss in his voice. “I should have known . . .” He groaned, the silver light flickering and fading in his eyes. “I should have known this wouldn’t work.”

And then the sheen was gone from his eyes and they were brown again. Tania’s head was suddenly clear.

She pulled away from him. “What did you do to me?” she spat. “What was that?”

Edric moved toward her. “I wanted you to be happy; that was all. Nothing bad . . . I promise . . . nothing bad. . . .”

It all clicked into place. The dizziness, the euphoria, the sense of peace: they had all been a trick, a mind game that Edric had played on her.

She lashed out, her hand striking hard across his cheek, snapping his head sideways. “How dare you!” she cried. “How dare you do that to me!”

He was trembling now, a red stain burning on the side of his face. “I couldn’t bear how unhappy you were,” he said. “I wanted to do something good for you . . . something to make you feel better.”

She was livid, almost too angry to speak. “You wanted to make me feel better by . . .” She choked, unable to think of the words to express the depth of her revulsion. “You used the Dark Arts on me, Edric? How could you do that?”

“Because I love you and I can’t stand our being like this!” he cried. “It’s too hard, Tania; it’s killing me.” He leaned heavily on the balustrade, as though his legs were failing under him.

Tania took long, slow breaths, trying to calm herself down.

“The worst thing you could have done . . .” she began hesitantly. “Absolutely the very worst thing you could ever do to me is to try and control my mind like that.” She looked into his defeated face. “That’s what Gabriel Drake did, Edric! Don’t you get that? He got inside my head with the Dark Arts and he manipulated me and he tried to kill me with it!” She swallowed, her throat parched and aching. But she needed to finish. “No matter what motives you had, no matter what you were trying to do—you have no right to violate my mind like that.” She stared at him. “Do you not get that? Do you not get how horrible that is?”

He nodded slowly, his head hanging. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“You promised me you’d stop using the Dark Arts, Edric,” she said harshly. “So, what happened to that?”

“I needed to use them to find you,” he said quietly. “There was no other way.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why did you need to find me?”

He lifted his head, and she could see tears in his eyes. “Because I can save you, Tania,” he said. “I can save you, and then we can be together again.”

She frowned. “You said that before—that thing about saving me. Save me from what?”

He stood up straight, running his arm across his face, breathing hard. “From yourself, Tania!”