Tania and Jade were walking the battlements under a clear blue sky. From their vantage point they could see out past the gardens and parklands to the rolling purple downs and the green eaves of Esgarth Forest stretching away into the hazy north.

“I wish I could take you on the grand tour of Faerie,” Tania said to her friend. “You wouldn’t believe what’s out there. Fields of poppies that change color with the breeze. A castle that looks like it’s made of seashells. Oh, and Crystalhenge—that’s a ring of blue crystals twenty feet high and so beautiful you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe next time,” Jade said. “When things have settled down a little.” She glanced at Tania. “Once Edric has sweet-talked Lord Ostrich of Weirdo out of being such a dope!”

Tania had to laugh. “Lord Aldritch of Weir.”

“Whatever,” Jade said. She gazed out over the battlements. “Looks like there are plenty of people responding to the party invites.”

The roads to the north and west were busy with traffic: some came with laden wagons and carts; others rode upon horses, still more on foot.

Tents and pavilions were being erected in the parks and on the downs, their banners floating in the wind. Knights had set up camp on Salisoc Heath—only a few so far, the first of the army that Oberon was mustering to defend Faerie from any potential assault from Weir.

Is Edric there yet? I wonder. He said it would take only half a day to get to Weir. No, he won’t have arrived yet, not till later this afternoon. I wish he didn’t have to be so . . . noble. I wish he’d just said, “Me—go to Weir? You have to be kidding! Find some other sucker this time.” But of course he had to go. I just hope Aldritch listens to him. I hope he can make everything all right again. I hope Aldritch stops hating me.

“Did Rathina show you the bedchambers?” Tania asked.

“She did,” said Jade. “All totally amazing. In fact, I’m going to have to come up with some new words to describe this place—‘amazing’ isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m thinking: Faerie-tastic!”

Tania smiled; Jade could always drag her out of her dark moods. “Do you have a favorite room?” she asked.

“I think maybe Cordelia’s,” said Jade. “I love the way the animals just come walking out of the wallpaper. And the birds—flying out of the walls and back in again. There was even a stag, a full-grown stag with the antlers and all. We were standing there, Rathina and me—and he just kind of turned up and strolled past. He was, like, huge!”

Ah! So the rooms are still full of magic even after their owners have gone. That’s nice.

“That’s because Cordelia’s room is somehow in the forest and in the Palace at the same time,” Tania said. “And what about Zara’s room? Isn’t that amazing the way the sea is always moving?”

Jade frowned. “Rathina didn’t take me there—she said there was nothing in Zara’s room now that she’s dead.”

“Oh. But Cordelia’s room is still magical? That’s odd.”

“Maybe it’s like a battery,” Jade suggested. “You know, gradually running out of juice. The magic doesn’t just go away—maybe it fades over time.”

Tania nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”

They saw a warden approaching them along the battlements.

He bowed to Tania. “My lady,” he said. “The King requests your presence in the Privy Chamber at your very earliest convenience.”

Tania turned to Jade. “I’d better go,” she said. “I think I know what this is.”

“No problem. I’ll go find Rathina or someone else to chat to.”

Tania followed the warden along the battlements—assuming that she would now learn what her part in the festival of the Pure Eclipse was to be.

* * *

Oberon and Titania were waiting for Tania in the Privy Chamber, along with Sancha and Eden, Earl Valentyne and Raphael Cariotis, all of them seated at the marble table with many scrolls and documents and books open in front of them.

“I know how hard it is for you, my daughter, that Master Chanticleer was needed for the mission in the north,” said Oberon. “But we each have our part to play in the coming events.”

“And yours is no less important than his, Tania,” added the Queen. “In fact, from what we have learned this day, your role may be in many ways the most vital—for the people of the Mortal World and of Faerie.”

“Why?” Tania asked. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Hold back the flood tides of the two realms,” said Eden. “Keep the two worlds apart when the eclipse comes. Come, sit and we shall tell you all that we have learned—and how you are to be the bulwark between Faerie and the World of Mortals.”

Startled by her sister’s words, Tania sat down.

Master Raphael began to explain. “We have had to piece together the events of the Pure Eclipse from hints and guesses and scraps. Earl Valentyne sent his mind into the Helan Archaia—to the vast Hall of Archives in Caer Regnar Naal—and has gleaned therefrom certain information that may help us to prevent the two realms from bleeding one into another.”

“No power in this world can halt the progress of the Great Eclipse,” said Valentyne, his voice like old branches creaking in the wind. “But in ancient documents I found a certain text that spoke of the half-child who in times to come will have the power to walk between the worlds—a half-Faerie and half-human who alone of all living beings will be able to straddle the realms.”

“Me, you mean?” said Tania breathlessly.

“You indeed, sister,” said Sancha. “It can surely be no other.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You must stand between the two worlds while the moon covers the sun and hold them apart by the power that resides in you,” said the King.

“It’s your especial gift that will allow you to do this,” said the Queen. “That is why you are the only one who can perform the ritual when the time comes.”

Tania’s mouth was suddenly dry. “But how?”

“Upon the northern downs there is a cave,” said Master Raphael. “The cave leads to an underground chamber where flows the dark subterranean River Elfleet. Upon the morning of the Pure Eclipse you must follow the river to the Cavern of Heartsdelving.”

Tania knew of the cave and the black river—she had even been in the cavern once, long ago. Heartsdelving was one of the greatest centers of power in all the realm. Even more potent than Crystalhenge. In Heartsdelving there was a lake, and in that lake there was an island, and upon that island there was a stalagmite—a great pillar of stone called the Quellstone Spire. Enormous power flowed through that finger of stone.

Eden spoke. “At the moment of the Pure Eclipse, Tania, you must touch the Quellstone, for then your gift will be magnified a thousandfold.”

Raphael continued. “It will give you the strength to use your mind to hold back the flood of Faerie into the Mortal Realm and of the Mortal Realm into Faerie.”

I’m supposed to do this with my mind?

“It will take great power of will, my daughter,” said the King. “But the threat will not last long. The peril exists only while the moon covers the sun—and the truth is that none but you can do this thing.”

“And if I fail?” Tania asked. She tried to recall what she had read over the man’s shoulder in the park while she had been waiting for Connor. . . . The longest solar eclipse of this century, lasting 6 minutes and 45 seconds . . . She had to use the power of her mind to hold two worlds apart for nearly seven minutes.

“If you love the Mortal World and the realm of Faerie, pray to the good spirits that you do not fail,” said Sancha. “Because if the two worlds merge, even for so brief a time, much that you know of both realms could be changed forever.”

Tania looked at the King in alarm. “Can’t you stop that happening?” she asked. “You’re so much more powerful than I am.”

The King smiled sadly. “And yet, of us all, only you belong to both worlds, Tania. The power I wield holds sway only within the realm of Faerie. This task is yours—it is yours alone.”

Tania was aware that all eyes were on her now. She hesitated, torn by self-doubt, overwhelmed by the task they had set for her.

“Will you at least try?” murmured the Queen.

Tania straightened her back, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair.

“I will,” she said. “If someone will guide me there and show me what to do.”

“Have no fear,” said Master Raphael. “I will be at your side throughout the ritual.” He smiled and his eyes gleamed. “Indeed, I will not leave you, my lady, not until the Pure Eclipse is past and done and the fate of the two worlds is sealed for all time.”

That night the Great Hall became the venue for a magnificent feast. Tables had been set up along the walls, laden with food and drink of all kinds. Musicians played in the gallery, their melodies a constant backdrop to conversation and laughter. The aroma of roasted meats vied with the yeasty scent of new-baked bread and with the smells of cooked herbs and spicy sauces.

All the greatest of Faerie were there: lords and ladies in their finest clothes, knights clad in the livery of many earldoms, their clothes blazoned with the heraldic charges of their homeland. The red dragon for Mynwy Clun, the white star of Anvis. The oak of Gaidheal and the sea horse of Talebolion. And from some distant corner of the realm there was a group of dour knights who wore dark red cloaks that showed no heraldry at all.

“They hail from Gralach Hern,” Rathina confided to Tania, watching the curious, self-contained group as they sat eating together at the far end of one table. “’Tis a principality on the north coast of Prydein.”

“They came all the way from there?” Tania said in surprise. She had traveled to the far ends of Prydein—and it had taken her many days. “How did they get here so quickly?”

“Master Raphael sent word to them some time ago,” Rathina said. “Or so ’tis said.”

Tania gave her a puzzled look. “When could he have done that?” she asked. “All of Faerie was under the Gildensleep shield until Lear came—and after that . . . When would Raphael have had time to send . . . ?”

“Fie, Tania! You’d gnaw entire mountains to nubs with your endless questions!” Rathina laughed. “They are here and they will give us good aid if war comes. What more do you need to know?”

“Nothing more, I suppose. . . .” Tania looked at the men again. Something about them still bothered her.

Minstrels began to play a lively dance.

“This is my chance,” murmured Jade, sitting at Tania’s side and watching Titus like a hawk. Tania hadn’t managed to get her friend a seat next to Titus, but they were at the same table, just a few places apart. A brief conversation Tania had with Titus had revealed that Corin had been sent to the family home of Caer Ravensare to ensure that all was well there and to call the men of that lovely flower-decked palace to arms. Jade raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are there any rules here about girls asking guys to dance?”

“None that I know of,” said Tania.

“Okay.” Jade stood up as people began to fill the dance floor between the tables. “Wish me luck. Here goes nothing!”

Tania watched as Jade went to where Titus was sitting. She leaned over him, whispering close. He smiled and stood up, leading her onto the dance floor.

“I wish Edric was here,” Tania said under her breath as Jade and Titus joined in the dance.

“He has sterner deeds to attempt,” said Rathina. “Have no fear—you’ll see your beloved captain again before too long.”

Tania tried a weak smile. “But all the time he’s gone, it feels like he’s taken part of me away with him.” She sighed. “Even in a room full of people, I still feel alone, somehow. . . . ”

Rathina gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Alone?” she murmured. “Yes, I can see how you might feel that.” Her eyes darkened. “But imagine, sweet sister, how you would feel if the stallion of the darkling moon galloped over your heart with his brazen hooves. . . . Imagine that!” A slow smile spread across Rathina’s face. “Or maybe it is that you shall not need to imagine it, Tania—can you not hear it? The horse of the night, galloping ever closer.” Her eyes burned. “Ever closer . . .”

Tania stared at her in growing alarm. “Rathina?”

Then her sister laughed and tossed her hair. “You were always the most easy child to put the goblin fright into, Tania!” she said. She stood up. “Come, let us find worthy lords to dance with—the night is fine and the stars do shine and there’s a scent on the air as old as time.”

The Feast lasted late into the night. Tania even managed to stop fretting over Edric for part of the time as she danced with various lords of Faerie. But in the deep of night she and Jade finally wound their way wearily to her bedchamber and flung themselves into bed.

“So? How did it go with Titus?” Tania asked sleepily. “Are the two of you engaged?”

“It was nice,” Jade said, unusually subdued. “I could fall for him big time, but . . .”

Tania turned her head on the pillow to look at her friend. Jade’s face was blurred with moonlight. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

“But . . . ?”

“He’s totally into someone else, is my opinion,” Jade said. “I pulled out all the stops, you know? And he was really sweet and considerate and all that—but I got the distinct impression he wished he was with someone else. And when we danced, he was always half looking over my shoulder.”

“At who?” Tania asked, intrigued by this.

“Do I look like I have eyes in the back of my head?” said Jade. “And there was something else. . . .”

“What?”

“Every now and then he’d stop and he’d say. ‘Can you hear that?’ and I’d say, ‘What?’ and he’d say, ‘Do you not hear it—the distant sound of hooves?’ and I’d be like, ‘Hooves? What hooves?’” Jade made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Hooves!” she said. “Y’know, Tania, I think there’s something kind of wacky about some of these people.”

Tania felt as if a black abyss was yawning at her back. “Did he say anything else about the hooves?” she asked.

“Just that they were getting louder all the time,” said Jade. “Listen, girl—I’m wiped out. Let’s get some sleep.”

Jade turned over so that she was facing away from Tania. Within seconds her breathing had deepened with sleep.

Hooves? Titus could hear hooves?

What was going on? First Sancha and then Rathina had talked of a dark horse . . . and now Titus was hearing approaching hooves.

What was coming?