NO WAIF OUT

MERLIN’S WAIF™

BOOK FOUR

RENÉE JAGGÉR

MICHAEL ANDERLE

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Version 1.00, May 2025

ebook ISBN: 979-8-89354-475-6

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THE NO WAIF OUT TEAM

Thanks to the JIT Readers

Christopher Gilliard

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Diane L. Smith

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Dorothy Lloyd

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Editor

The SkyFyre Editing Team

CHAPTER ONE

“What do you mean Alecto wasn’t working alone?” Merritt Vale blurted.

The Eternity Queen didn’t like the idea, either. She was ethereally stunning, not only because of the gossamer silver-blue gown she’d chosen for the wedding but also because the translucent wings spreading from her shoulders glowed almost as brightly as her moonlight skin. Silver sparks danced between her fingers. Something dangerous in her eye reminded Merritt that Queen Julia Pendragon had defeated dragons, dark mages, and the Wild Hunt.

“She had the Boilbloods, right?” Merritt added. “We caught them all. Didn’t we?”

“We believe so, but I’m not talking about the Boilbloods.” Queen Julia stroked her daughter’s hair; the toddler princess snoozed in her lap, unaffected when the sparks trickled between the dark strands. “Our dark magic sensors have picked up another surge on North Brother Island. Something powerful is on the move. Its magic signature isn’t dissimilar to Alecto’s.”

Merritt clenched her fists. “There’s another Fury?”

“It would seem that way.” Queen Julia rose, cradling the toddler. “You and I need to go check it out.”

Merritt’s stomach swooped. “You want me to come with you, Your Majesty? Why me?”

“Because I made her promise she wouldn’t go alone.” The king smiled.

Merritt reflected again that he had a nice smile; kind and almost ordinary. The Aether Elf scooped his daughter from Queen Julia’s hands with a practiced motion and cuddled her against his chest. Around them, the party had reached its sleepy last phase. Satiated guests half-dozed at the tables scattered around the main street of Little Avalon. The white tablecloths and powder blue napkins the bride had agonized over now bore wrinkles and stains from a good time.

“Yes.” Queen Julia ran her finger over the sleepy toddler’s cheek. “King Taylor believes that I need a bodyguard.” She laughed.

“Hey, it never hurts to have backup.” King Taylor kissed his wife’s forehead. “Be safe out there.”

Merritt wanted to ask why the queen didn’t take Val or someone else from the official team, but the scene answered her question. The bride and groom danced slowly beneath the fairy lights zigzagging the street, locked in a happy daze. Nearby, Tess and Tetra argued between drunken giggles. Val and Niall, on the other hand, were completely sober. Val couldn’t stop staring at the new engagement ring on her finger, and Niall couldn’t stop staring at Val.

“I’ll be back soon, T, but don’t wait here in Little Avalon for me,” Queen Julia instructed. “It’s well past Lilli’s bedtime. I’d rather face a dozen dark mages than her wrath if she’s sleep-deprived tomorrow.”

“True. I’ll take her home and see you there soon, honey.” King Taylor kissed her again. “Enjoy saving the world. I love you.”

Queen Julia placed a lingering hand on his cheek. “I love you.”

Neither moved for a few moments, and Merritt realized that the stability of their kingdom—one that spanned dimensions and centuries—hung like a suspension bridge between the pillars of this marriage. Not even Brooklyn Bridge could match this strength.

“Okay!” Queen Julia spun around and clapped her hands. “Ready, Merritt?”

“Are we taking Genevieve?” Merritt asked.

Queen Julia throatily chuckled. “Of course we are.”

“I’ll have to ask Val for the keys and to open the garage, then.”

The guttural rumble of a V8 Cobrajet made a liar out of Merritt. A mighty 1971 Mach 1 Mustang rolled toward them from the other side of the street, the streetlights’ glow sliding like lightning over her black-and-pewter paintwork.

“Gennie?” Merritt spluttered. “How did you get here?”

The Mustang stopped a few inches short of Queen Julia, who petted the hood.

“I’ve long since stopped asking questions about Genevieve.” King Taylor adjusted his grip on the princess. “She does what she wants. Natural laws don’t apply. Even supernatural laws are sketchy.”

Genevieve revved her engine and butted her hood against Queen Julia’s legs.

“Okay, okay.” The queen laughed. “Let’s go.”

Merritt glanced around for Akila and spotted her pet sleeping under the table where Tess and Tetra sat. She crossed her fingers that the echinemon would behave herself in her absence, then hopped into the passenger seat.

Queen Julia gripped the wheel with easy familiarity and made a U-turn. Genevieve puttered sedately out of Little Avalon. “I hope we don’t end up with a fight on our hands. I’m really not dressed for it.”

“You brought your sword,” Merritt pointed out.

Queen Julia had tossed Excalibur on the backseat. She glanced at it, grinning. “I don’t go anywhere unarmed. You never know when darkness will be waiting.”

“I left my bow in the apartment.”

“From what Val tells me, you’re still well-armed.”

Merritt blinked. “You, um, know about my male form?”

“The gigantic tree-man who smashed Alecto’s skull to pieces? Yeah, I know, and he’s awesome.” Queen Julia smirked. “Gennie, what do you think? Bridge or tunnel?”

Genevieve’s engine revved.

“Bridge it is. How long does it take to get from Brooklyn to the South Bronx?” Queen Julia mused. “About, what, thirty-five minutes with traffic as it is now? I reckon we can make it twenty.”

The Mustang shot forward, slamming Merritt against her seat and sending her scrambling for the seat belt. She clung to the oh-shit handle as Genevieve careened onto the interstate, and her engine’s roar became a screech of fury. Queen Julia’s reckless laughter intertwined with the thunder of three hundred and seventy-five irate warhorses as Genevieve dodged the late-night traffic, leaving car after car in the hypothetical dust.

“Yeah!” Queen Julia cheered. “It’s been too long, big girl.” She slapped Genevieve’s dash. “Go, go, go!”

Genevieve found a hidden reserve of speed and accelerated. Merritt tried not to look as cars and trucks loomed ahead, only for the Mustang to dodge them at the last moment by mere inches.

“I can see you’ve taken a few rides in Gennie,” the queen observed. “You’re less green than people usually are their first time.”

“She’s growing on me.” Merritt averted her eyes from the road. “You know your realm well, Your Majesty.”

Queen Julia laughed. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you knew how long it would take to get to the Bronx.”

“Of course I do.” The queen looked away. Genevieve was driving herself. “I grew up in this city.”

Merritt blinked at the glowing fae. “Um, what?”

“You didn’t know? You’ve missed out on a lot. You were still in Lichenvale when the great scandal of the ‘human’ in the Para-Military Agency was all over the news.” Queen Julia grimaced. “That was a big thing, let me tell you.”

“Human?” Merritt stared. “You were a changeling?”

“I was. I grew up in West Brighton, Staten Island, as a human girl who never felt right in this world. I only found out I was a fae after I’d stumbled into the paranormal world by Merlin’s design, though he didn’t admit it until years later. I worked as a recruiter for the OPMA.” Queen Julia’s eyes got misty. “Those were good times. These are better, but those were good, too.”

“I didn’t know that, Your Majesty. No wonder Tess speaks so highly of you. It hasn’t been easy for her as a changeling.” Merritt paused. “How did you get used to living in a different world?”

“That is a loaded question.”

Merritt shrugged. “I’m still learning.”

“We’re all still learning, Merritt. Truth be told, I didn’t find it very difficult. I fumbled around while I was finding my feet, but I loved my new world. I threw myself into making it a better place. That was what made it mine.”

Merritt smiled. “I can relate to that.”

“I know you can. That’s why Little Avalon benefits so much from your presence. It’s become your world now, hasn’t it?”

“I guess.” Merritt touched the heavy amulet she wore on a chain around her neck. “I never belonged anywhere I was placed, and I can’t remember Lichenvale. Little Avalon is the only world I have.”

“Your memories will come back. There are a lot of cruel and powerful things about dark magic, but you can rely on two truths.” Queen Julia grinned. “Dark magic is weaker and doesn’t last forever.”

As the queen predicted, they arrived at the abandoned warehouse on the East River in twenty minutes. It would have been pitch-dark when they exited Genevieve except for the queen’s glow, which reflected off the black river as they stood on the pier’s edge. North Brother Island was a dark hulk against the skyline.

“I hear there’s a spooky-ass tunnel under the river to get to the island.” Queen Julia unfurled her wings. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood.”

Merritt tried and failed not to stare. The queen’s butterfly-shaped wings were translucent, but the way the light fell on them suggested that they were hard, and their edges looked razor-sharp.

“Let’s fly.” The queen sprang into the air.

Merritt leaped after her and transformed in midair. Feathers burst from her skin, her body shrank, and her bones hollowed as she pursued the queen as a snowy owl.

“Cool trick,” Queen Julia called as Merritt soared up beside her.

“Thank you!”

“I can’t shapeshift. Only Merlin mastered that. Looks uncomfortable.”

They reached the island in moments and flew a broad arc around the abandoned place. The woods covered everything except the ruined buildings, which stood as memorials to the forgotten days of civilization.

Merritt’s feathers ruffled as the scent of dark magic, an acrid stench like blood and urine, reached her. “There! By the morgue. That’s where the smell is strongest. It’s not Alecto’s residue, either. It’s fresh.”

“I sense it, too. Fresh, but not fresh enough that whatever-it-is is still here.” Queen Julia dove toward the buildings.

Merritt followed, and they landed outside the morgue. Merritt transformed into human form when her feet hit the ground. The abandoned building loomed over them, the smokestack of the coal house beside it black against the few visible stars.

“Wow, this place is disturbing,” Queen Julia muttered. She raised a fist and silver fire engulfed it, flickering like torchlight. “The crime tape’s gone, so the OPMA has cleared the scene. Let’s see what we find.”

“Alecto’s lair was in there.” Merritt pointed at the morgue.

“Of course it was. Why would it not be in the creepy-ass morgue?” Queen Julia grumbled. “This is like that time we went under the library in Avalon Town to look for a shit-scary book about the Wild Hunt.”

The queen advanced. Merritt stayed beside her as they entered the morgue, which gave the impression that the decades-ago humans had left in a hurry. Carts, gurneys, and random equipment still littered the floors.

A woody creak made Merritt jump. She spun as a creeper spilled down the wall nearest her, growing inches in seconds. It sprouted buds and bloomed in the gloom. “That wasn’t me,” Merritt squeaked.

“It was me. This place needs sprucing up.”

More plants poured down the walls and crept through the cracks in the floor. Grass spread over the broken concrete and daisies curled between Merritt’s feet, their petals bright and delicate. “You have nature magic too?”

“I’m Luna’s heir. I have all the magic.” The queen smirked. “You said Alecto’s lair was in here?”

The dusty hall transformed as Merritt led the queen to the morgue’s center. More grass and flowers sprouted in the moonlight. Trees thrust their branches through the windows, disturbing sleepy squirrels that chattered in disgust. A carpet of snowdrops bloomed at Merritt’s feet.

Val had thought this place was creepy too, but Merritt was awed by its new beauty. Queen Julia found nothing to fear in darkness. She knew it couldn’t touch her.

“Here, Your Majesty.” Merritt had almost forgotten what they’d come here to do. “This door leads to the lair. Careful. There’s a drop.”

“Um, Merritt?” Queen Julia pointed at her wings. “I’m okay with a drop.”

Merritt giggled. The queen joined in.

“I’ll switch this off for now.” Queen Julia wriggled her fingers at the plants, and they stopped growing. “Don’t want to disturb any evidence.”

Merritt pushed the door open and stepped back, wrinkling her nose. “Gross!”

“Ugh. I agree.” The queen rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. “There’s intense darkness here.”

“It’s worse than when we fought Alecto.”

“Worse?” The queen raised an eyebrow. “That’s not good.” She paused. “Qtana’s on my telechip. She’s not picking up any magical signatures except ours, but keep your head on a swivel just in case.”

Merritt took owl form.

“I didn’t mean literally.”

Merritt hooted her laughter as she swooped to the bottom of the lair. She landed in human form, almost breaking a heel, and gagged on the reek of dark magic. The OPMA had cleared the debris from the battle: the remnants of the dark artifacts Alecto had been using to weave a sinister spell over the city, the ramshackle furniture full of notes, ledgers, and scribbled runes, and the corpse of the Fury. They hadn’t been able to rid the floor of the black stains where Merritt had smashed out Alecto’s brains.

Merritt resisted the urge to whisper in the vast space. “What do you know about Furies, Your Majesty?”

“Not much.” Queen Julia shrugged. “According to Merlin, no one does. They date back to pre-Arthurian times and fought on Mordred’s side during the First Pendragon War. History doesn’t mention them after Mordred’s first fall, but I don’t know if they died in battle. There are rumors about them being involved in King Arthur’s court before the war, though.”

“How could they be on Mordred’s side, then?”

“Mordred was a Knight of the Round Table, but he was a traitor. Maybe they were, too.” Queen Julia turned to her. “We need your nose. Val tells me it’s good at sniffing out dark magic.”

Merritt shrank into fox form, and her fingers lengthened into forelegs, nails curling into claws. She lowered her rubbery nose to the dirt. The reek made her coat bristle. “There’s something over here.”

Queen Julia followed Merritt as she trotted across the cavern. The fox paused, nose twitching, beside a lump of charred wood that stank of darkness.

Merritt used a front paw to turn it over. “I don’t know what it is, but it smells awful.”

The queen crouched beside her. “Mmm. Looks like a spent torch, but there’s a symbol on it.” She held up a clenched fist that shed pale moonlight and saw a brand, its sinuous lines serpentine. “Qtana’s checking the symbol. She can see through my eyes when I’m wearing my telechip.”

“Liam would love for us to have chips like that.”

“He’s working on an affordable version. Even Little Avalon’s coffers don’t stretch far enough for Val to get one yet. Qtana says it’s an ancient symbol associated with the Furies.”

Merritt’s tail fluffed. “So, there was a Fury here. This torch smells much fresher than Alecto’s blood.”

“Seems that way. Can you find anything else?”

Merritt quartered the space, running back and forth with her nose to the ground like a bloodhound’s.

Queen Julia poked a wall, discovered a loose brick, and pried something out. “Shit!” The queen stepped back as she flipped the pages. “Check this out, Merritt.” She held out the tattered book. Its black cover was worn and faded.

Merritt came over, her trot turning into a jog as she resumed human form. “Is it a notebook?”

“Alecto’s journal.” Queen Julia flicked through it. “Badly damaged.”

Merritt leaned close. The pages weren’t burned or faded. Scribbles covered them. The old script beneath seemed sane and measured, but the freshest scrawls were wild splashes of ink.

“Why would she write like that?” Merritt wondered.

“Because dark magic kills, steals, and destroys. In this case, it stole Alecto’s sanity.” Queen Julia grimaced at the sight of more chaotic writing and pointless emblems. “I’ll get this to Qtana. Her department might be able to recover parts of it.”

“Wait!” Merritt slammed her hand on the book. “Look at that.”

There was a sketch in the middle of the page, the messy scribbles surrounding it like a besieging army. The image made Merritt’s chest tighten.

“What is that? It looks familiar.”

Merritt held up her amulet. “I’m wearing it.”

The queen’s bright eyes darted from the book to the amulet and back. “This looks just like your amulet, Merritt. Where did it come from?”

Merritt gulped. “The OPMA found it with me in Lichenvale. Everyone tells me it’s Leshbolg.”

Queen Julia blinked.

“Why did a Fury have a sketch of my amulet?” Merritt strained to get the words out.

The queen opened her mouth and then froze. She stuffed the book into her bra and turned, silver fire rippling over her hands.

Merritt tensed. “What is it?”

“Qtana’s picking up a surge of dark magic.” The queen drew Excalibur and moonfire swallowed the broadsword’s blade, racing in flickering flames down its twin edges. The runes near the hilt glowed with power. Merritt trembled, not at the oncoming dark magic but in awe of the sword’s light.

“Is it a Fury?” Merritt asked.

The silver flames rushed over the queen’s body as well, invading the chinks in her armor. It edged her wings and roared when she moved. She laughed. “I really hope so.”

The hiss in the shadows was not wings; it was scales slithering on earth. Hundreds of snakes slithered into the queen’s glow, tongues flicking and skins shining in the moonlight. Elaborate patterns decorated their scales: the bright stripes of garter snakes, the white lines of timber rattlers, the brilliant red of milk snakes, and the mesmerizing blotches of the copperhead.

“Hi, snakies,” the queen chirped.

“Something’s wrong.” Merritt clenched her fists. “Something’s controlling them.”

Shadows dripped from the snakes’ eyes like black fire. They moved across the cavern floor with a terrible, single-minded synchronization, slithering in tidy ranks that didn’t belong in nature.

“Yep.” Queen Julia raised her blade. “It’s dark magic, but no worries. I can stop them.”

“I hate fighting innocent animals.”

“We don’t need to fight them.” The queen smirked. “I can blow the dark magic out of their⁠—”

Her words ended in a strangled gasp as the black rat snake tumbled from above. The eight-foot monstrosity landed on the queen’s shoulders with a thump, and she dropped to her knees. Muscular coils wound around her neck. She raised Excalibur as the snake bared its fangs.

“No!” Merritt’s yell started as a shriek and ended up sounding like a storm wind in dense woods as she took male form. Being ten feet tall, he towered over the kneeling queen. A copperhead struck at his feet, but its fangs couldn’t penetrate his bark-like skin.

He had transformed an instant too late; a snake had sunk its fangs into the queen’s wrist. She couldn’t scream, only make a strangled gasp as Excalibur tumbled from her hands. Scarlet streaks dribbled down her arm as she bled.

“Get off her!” Merritt thundered.

The floor was a carpet of serpents. A timber rattler lunged at the queen, and Merritt’s foot came down on it with such force that it splattered like a squashed grape. His roar shook the cavern as he seized the rat snake. Its coils writhed, and the queen’s face turned purple as it tried to resist him. Merritt seized its head and tail and pulled. The snake tore in half in an explosion of blood and guts, and he flung the pieces aside.

Queen Julia seized her sword and slashed. Its blade missed the striking heads of nearby serpents by feet, but silver light shot from Excalibur’s tip and mowed the snakes down. They tumbled over, pale bellies flashing. When they righted themselves, they streaked off, terrified.

The queen swung her blade a second time, and the light bowled over a wide swath of snakes.

The ominous shhhhhh of a timber rattler made Merritt whirl. It struck at the queen from the darkness, but Merritt squashed it against a wall like a mosquito.

“Good save! Thanks!” Queen Julia spun. “Okay, I’m bored with this.” She raised Excalibur in front of her as if in salute and bowed her head.

Merritt wanted to yell at her to do something. Hundreds of snakes still swarmed across the floor. He stomped on two and slapped a third out of the air as it lunged toward the queen’s face. If she didn’t get back into the fight⁠—

Moonlight burst from either Excalibur’s pommel or the queen’s heart; Merritt couldn’t tell which. Its dull boom suggested an explosion, but it felt like warm bathwater when it passed over Merritt. Yet its power flung the snakes back, all flashing scales and flying bodies. They hit the ground with meaty thumps and slithered off, dazed but free of the darkness.

“Cool. That’s done.” The queen sheathed the sword. “Qtana’s picking up the Fury’s magic signature. She’s fleeing the island. Let’s get her!”

A blast of wind and fire propelled her through the hall too fast for Merritt to keep up. He lunged after her, but the buzz of the queen’s wings told him that she’d darted outside. To save time, Merritt slammed into the wall. The bricks crumbled to dust at the impact.

He charged into the woods, pursuing the bright speck that was Queen Julia overhead. The trees slipped aside with creaking roots and rustling leaves. His feet thudded on earth and asphalt as he crossed a long-forgotten street. Small creatures stepped aside but did not flee at his passage. A flock of birds burst from their tree as he disturbed it, then escorted him as he ran, their tiny wings touching his face like kisses.

Merritt burst out of the woods at the island’s edge but stopped short of the rotten docks.

The queen hovered overhead, sword in hand. “There! See it?” The wings of a dark silhouette blocked the dawn breaking over the city.

“Let’s get her!” Merritt roared.

The silhouette’s wings flapped, and it vanished in a black streak across the sky.

The queen huffed. “She’s gone. Qtana will keep tracking her. We’ll find her eventually.”

“At least now we know there are two Furies,” Merritt rumbled.

“There is one more.” Queen Julia sighed. “I hate it when bad things come in threes.”

CHAPTER TWO

Merritt reached Little Avalon in a flurry of hawk wings as the first sunlight spilled down the street. Wedding debris still littered the area: wilted flower petals, stained ribbons drooped from the streetlights and tree trunks, and stacks of extra tables and chairs outside the bar.

At this hour on a Sunday morning, nothing stirred except three figures by the Second Fist. Its doors were closed, but Tess Mendoza and Damian Radu still wore their party clothes.

Damian’s bowtie flapped loose around his neck as the vampire tugged on Akila’s lead. “Come on, girl. Time to go to bed.”

The echinemon exposed her teeth and crunched her lithe, mongoose-like body into a ball. Although she was only the size of a Labrador, her stubby claws found the cracks in the sidewalk and dug in, making her an immovable weight.

“Maybe if I push from behind, we’ll get her moving,” Tess suggested. The Lunar Fae moved around to Akila’s back end.

Akila swished her long tail, her lips curling farther back from her teeth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Damian warned.

Merritt swooped to the sidewalk and landed on human feet. Damian jumped so hard that he dropped Akila’s lead, and the echinemon wheeled around with a joyous yip. She bounded to Merritt and reared to lick Merritt’s face.

“Easy, girl.” Merritt flung her arms around the echinemon and hugged her hard. “Have you been giving Tess and Damian a hard time?”

“Of course she has,” Damian grumbled. “When does she ever not?”

“There you are, Merritt.” Tess stifled a yawn.

“I’m sorry to have abandoned you. Have you been wrestling with her for long?” Merritt asked.

“A few minutes. The last guests only left when dawn broke.” Damian gave a rare smile, baring his fangs. “It was a great party.”

“No wonder you’re in an unusually good mood.” Merritt grabbed Akila’s lead. “I bet you’re exhausted.”

“Bushed.” Tess couldn’t hold back the next yawn.

“Let’s go home.” Merritt stepped forward. “Thanks for looking after Akila for me.”

“King Taylor told us the queen needed you, so it’s not like we could neglect our royal duties.” Damian shoved his hands in his pockets and matched Merritt’s steps.

Tess followed. “Yeah, we were glad to hear you were off helping the queen. I thought you’d sneaked away to train your male form without me.”

Her words pierced Merritt’s heart like a dagger. She turned to the fae, clutching Akila’s lead. “Tess...”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tess laughed and slung an arm around Merritt’s shoulders. “I’m teasing you.”

The knot in Merritt’s chest loosened. She cracked a grin as they continued down the sidewalk toward their apartment building.

“That was cruel,” Damian observed. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Tess.”

“I had to mess with her.” Tess picked flower petals out of Merritt’s hair. “You look exhausted, Merri.”

“We had a fight at the island. A bunch of snakes attacked us under mind control, and I had to take male form.” Merritt flexed her stiff neck. “I need a cheeseburger and a long nap.”

“A cheeseburger and...” Tess blinked. “Oh! That’s why you’re vegetarian most of the time, except for odd occasions when you eat a whole block of lunchmeat in one go.”

“I need the protein when I’ve been male.”

“I’ll keep hamburger in the freezer, then.” Tess grinned.

Merritt leaned against her. “Thanks for being cool about this. I’m still sorry for keeping secrets from you.”

“It’s over now. Unless you can turn into a pile of leaves or something else you haven’t told me about.”

Merritt frowned. “I could try.”

“Don’t!” Tess and Damian chorused.

“What did the queen want you for?” Tess added. “You went back to the island?”

“I did. The OPMA picked up a dark magic surge.” Merritt grimaced. “Another Fury was there. Alecto wasn’t alone.”

Tess stopped dead. “Another Fury?”

“We thought she’d left when we got there, but then the snakes attacked us. She flew away before we fought them off.”

“Shit,” Damian muttered.

They reached their apartment building, which was elegant and understated, with cream walls and beautiful wrought-iron fixtures, courtesy of the duchess’ forge.

Merritt led them across the lobby and up the first of three flights of stairs. “Do you know anything about Furies, Tess?”

“They were at King Arthur’s court during the Golden Age but took Mordred’s side in the war.” Tess shook her head. “That’s all I know. They’re shadowy figures. We lost a great deal of history during the First Pendragon War.”

I lost all my history during the Third. Merritt touched the amulet on her chest and stifled a surge of disgust.

“What’s up, Merritt?” Damian interjected. “You have that look in your eye again.”

“What look in my eye?”

“The one where you’re hiding something from us,” Tess grumbled.

Merritt blushed. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“It’s fine. Spit it out.” Damian unlocked their front door and opened it.

Merritt plodded into the kitchen and flopped into a chair, exhausted. “We found Alecto’s journal in the morgue. The queen took it to the NYHQ for analysis, but there was something in there we didn’t expect.”

Tess poked around in the fridge. “What?”

Merritt’s chest tightened, making it hard to squeeze out the words. She unclipped Akila’s lead, but the echinemon stayed close. “A sketch of my amulet.”

Damian turned on the coffee machine. “The Leshbolg amulet?”

“This one.” Merritt raised the chain over her head and placed the amulet on the table.

Tess pulled out a package of hot dogs and tore it open. “Merlin’s wings. Why would a Fury have a sketch of your amulet in her journal?”

Merritt gratefully accepted a hot dog. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

“Maybe she wants to exploit its magic.” Damian pulled up a chair.

Akila whined and pressed her rubbery nose against Merritt’s thigh.

“Or maybe,” Merritt murmured, “the Leshbolgs and the Furies were allies.”

“That’s bullshit,” Damian snapped. “Why would they be?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Merritt dug her fingers into Akila’s silver fur. “We don’t know anything about the Leshbolgs.”

“Except that dark magic destroyed them,” Damian pointed out.

“Dark magic destroyed a lot of dark mages,” Merritt retorted. “Maybe they were part of Mordred’s cult and did something to piss him off. Then he massacred them.”

“We don’t know that, and it’s doubtful.” Tess waved the hot dog package, tempting Merritt to take another.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re here.” Tess gestured at her. “You’re not a creature of dark magic. Why would the rest of the Leshbolgs be?”

The words and the hot dog made Merritt feel marginally better. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I don’t know much about the Leshbolgs, but they weren’t dark mages, Merritt. Don’t let your mind go there,” Damian told her.

Tess touched her arm. “I understand. Trust me. I know it feels like free-falling not to know your heritage.”

Merritt raised her head, remembering that Tess had never found her biological parents.

“In the end, we all have to decide who we are,” Tess quietly added, “regardless of the family we do or don’t know.”

“I know my family.” Merritt grabbed Tess’ hand. “They’re right here.”

Tess’ eyes filled with tears.

“This got sappy fast,” Damian grouched. “Who wants coffee?”

The dough was light under Merritt’s fingers, almost silken. She rolled it across the stainless steel table in a practiced motion, one dough ball in each hand.

“You make it look easy.” Owen stood on the table, six inches tall. He rubbed oil around the inside of a bowl.

Merritt smiled at the brownie. “Trust me, it didn’t feel easy when I took my first lessons with Agnes. She’s a miracle worker.”

“I’d love to be able to do what you do someday.”

“You’re getting there.” Merritt shaped the dough into a ball again. “Hey, would you like to carve the runes on the croissants before they go into the oven?”

Owen froze. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean I wanted to take on more responsibility.”

Merritt laughed. “Owen, if you want to get better at something and do more of it, that means more responsibility by default.”

The brownie flushed. “I...I don’t want to screw it up.”

“So what if you do?” Merritt dumped the dough ball into the bowl. “I’m right here to fix it.”

Owen covered the bowl with plastic wrap. “I could try.”

“You could.” Merritt checked the laminated dough she’d rolled out. “These are ready to fill and shape.”

Owen disappeared, re-materialized by a cabinet, and retrieved a massive shaker full of chocolate chips. Merritt held out a hand, and Owen appeared on the table again to give her the shaker.

“As bakery assistants go, you’re impossible to beat.” She shook the chips over the dough.

Owen gave a little bow. “Thank you.”

“How’s our stock of good luck and good mood croissants?” Merritt asked. “If I remember correctly, we have plenty of both.”

Owen checked the list. “There’s a batch of good luck in the oven now, and we have plenty of good mood. Maybe we should make this batch anti-stress. It’s Monday. People are stressed.”

“That’s true.” Merritt set the shaker aside and expertly rolled the dough into croissant shapes. “You could experiment with these. Whatever you want.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “You want me to try cutting runes right now?”

“There’s no time like the present.” Merritt opened a drawer and retrieved a sharp knife. “Here. It’s all yours.” She slid it across the table.

Owen stared at it like it might bite him.

“Don’t look at it like that. You know the good luck rune better than anyone.” Merritt pointed at a poster on the wall. “You can copy it from there, too. Go ahead and cut it.”

“What if I accidentally cut a bad luck rune?”

“Then I’ll fix it.” Merritt waved a hand. “You’re overthinking again. Go for it!”

She turned away and started a batch of batter for chocolate and lavender muffins, purposely letting Owen work alone. After she poured the batter into the industrial muffin tray, she returned to the brownie.

“Hey, you’ve already done four!” Merritt leaned over to inspect the croissants. “This is excellent, Owen.”

“It is?” His eyes lit up.

“Yeah, these are perfect. Remember to add the powdered shamrock topping, or the good luck won’t stick.” Merritt peered at the most recent croissant. “What’s this rune? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an ancient brownie rune.” Owen hesitated. “I saw that you’d put it aside.”

“I was going to bake that one for us to share.” Merritt giggled. “I screwed up the folding. I like that you’re experimenting with it. What rune did you use?”

Owen sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, um, it’s a prank rune.”

Merritt raised her head. “What does it do?”

Owen grimaced. “It’s juvenile. I shouldn’t have—” He stepped forward as if to erase the rune.

Merritt guarded it with one hand. “Tell me what it does.”

Owen cleared his throat. “It turns your hair purple for about ninety seconds. Long enough that most paras panic.”

“Turns your hair purple?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t⁠—”

Merritt guffawed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“That’s hilarious!” Merritt beamed. “How did the brownies come up with that?”

A shy smile bloomed on Owen’s face. “My people have a long history of doing household chores in exchange for small favors like a bowl of milk, but we’re not kind if homeowners mistreat us. Pranks and bad luck are as much a part of brownie magic as teleportation.”

“Amazing. I love it.” Merritt waved a hand at the croissants. “Do all of them with the purple hair prank.”

“What? All of them? Why?”

“Because they’ll sell like hot magic croissants, that’s why! People will love them.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I’ll tell Kalyna that we’re adding a new product starting today.”

The next half-hour was a feverish bustle of activity as the clock ticked nearer to opening time. Merritt pulled muffins, croissants, cookies, Danish pastries, and brownies—the edible kind—out of the oven and filled the baskets by the window with them. She added fillings to the savory bagels and sprinkled toppings on the freshly enchanted confections that helped them hold their magic: powdered selenite, crushed lavender, and sea salt for wards of minor protection.

“I clearly marked the purple hair ones.” Owen appeared by her elbow at the counter, carrying a pile of croissants in paper bags. “What do you think?”

Merritt blinked. A bright purple sticker sealed each bag with the Chaplin’s Kitchen logo and the word PRANK printed on it. “How did you...”

“I’m a brownie. Logistics are my thing.”

Merritt grinned, loving his newfound confidence. “Ain’t that the truth.” She held out a fist.

Owen bumped it. “It’s seven-thirty. Time to open the window.”

Merritt folded the blinds back. As usual, there was a line winding through the beautiful back garden. The sight made Merritt’s heart swell with joy, causing the nearby plants to unfurl new flowers.

Owen stood by the coffee machine, ready to play barista out of the humans’ sight. Even the Veil, which concealed most paranormal aspects from human eyes, couldn’t hide the fact that he was six inches tall.

The Duchess of Little Avalon was the first person to step up to the window. Val Stonehold wore her favorite electric blue wig today. As usual, her dagger rested on her hip, and her robust frame rippled with muscle as she approached Merritt. “Morning!”

Merritt giggled. “Has it sunk in yet?”

Val held out a hand and wriggled her left ring finger. “It’s starting to. I can’t believe I get to marry this creature.”

Her fiancé wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Niall Wynthorn’s willowy frame was taller than Val’s, but everything about him suggested softness: his short sandy hair, the freckles on his nose, and limpid dark eyes.

“Congratulations. Again.” Merritt beamed. “What can I get you guys?”

“The usual,” Niall told her.

“Owen, you know what to do,” Merritt called.

Owen gave her a thumbs-up. He’d already started Val’s black coffee.

“We’re here for more than good coffee and the best bagels in any dimension, though.” Val folded her arms. “We were hoping to get here before the line formed to talk to you, but your work is even more popular than I thought.”

“I can stop by your house after work,” Merritt suggested. “You’ll likely be in the smithy. I’ll bring lunch.”

“I’ll be on my way to Avalon in the next twenty minutes. I have to attend an Iron Dwarven conference for the next week. All the nobility from my species must be there, so I’ll make it quick.” Val paused.

Niall’s arm tightened around her. “We want to ask you if you’d be our event planner for the wedding.”

Merritt jumped up with an ear-splitting squeal that made Owen yelp and raised eyebrows in the queue. “Yes!” she gushed. “Yes, of course!”

“Wow.” Niall raised his eyebrows. “You’d swear you were the one getting married.”

“I loved planning Liam and Qenzi’s wedding.” Merritt grabbed a prosciutto and cream cheese bagel with tongs, almost squashing it in her excitement. “I would be honored to help with yours.”

“You had little warning for their wedding and did an amazing job. We’d love for you to do the same for ours,” Val told her.

“Thanks, Merritt,” Niall added.

Merritt handed Val’s bagel and black coffee through the window. “Have you guys considered a date or venue yet?”

“We’re busy people. We want a few months to plan the wedding.” Val took the cup and bag.

“But we don’t want to wait too long,” Niall added. “Do we, honey?”

Val shrugged. “No rush.”

“How about the venue?” Merritt offered Niall a mint and blueberry muffin.

“Somewhere woodsy, probably in Avalon,” Niall responded as Val said, “Underground, for sure.”

“Underground?” Niall raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, babe. I’m a dwarf,” Val pointed out.

“Yes, but how will we get flowers to bloom underground for the décor?” Niall asked.

Val scoffed. “Flowers don’t make a good handfasting.”

Niall gave Merritt a strained smile. “We still need to iron out the details. No pun intended.”

“It’s early days. No need to decide on anything yet.” Merritt handed him his latte.

She watched them go, chewing her bottom lip.

“Might not be as easy as Liam and Qenzi’s wedding,” Owen muttered.

Merritt smiled. “Maybe not, but it’ll be worth it.”

She turned to her next customer, Councilor Arion Woodskin, who jumped back with a yelp.

“Merlin’s beard!” he squawked. “What happened to your hair?”

Merritt grabbed a lock from her messy bun. It should have been scarlet, but it glowed neon-purple. “It’s working!”

Owen groaned. “I told you not to taste them.”

“Want a prank croissant?” Merritt waved one at the councilor. “Turns the target’s hair purple for two minutes.”

“It’s already fading.” Arion blinked. “I represent my species at the high council, Merritt. I’m a very important elf.”

Merritt lowered the croissant. “Oh. Sorry.”

Arion laughed. “I need stress relief. Give me half a dozen.”

The dome sparkled among the greenery in Esmerelda Park. Its glass walls glittered like jewels or fallen stars in the sunlight. Its concrete and bronze framework joined at the apex to form a statue of Queen Julia. Her body was bronze, and her wings were the same crystalline glass as the walls. The massive panes caught the light in flashes of rainbow brilliance. Runes as tall as Merritt glowed blue in each pillar, sealing the magic within.

“Wow,” Tess managed.

Akila bounded across the grassy park, chasing butterflies. They stood a few hundred feet from the entrance gate on the other side of several large vegetable patches that fed hungry families in Little Avalon. A lawn surrounded the dome, currently home to the accouterments of construction: heavy machinery, tents functioning as offices, dwarves in yellow safety hats, and several porta-potties.

“It’s almost done.” Merritt beamed. “Ronnie’s team put the statue on top yesterday afternoon. Now they’re installing the doors and polishing the floor.”

“It’s marble, right?” Tess asked. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Alternating blocks of pink and white marble. All that’s left is to lay the runes on the door and add them to all the potential chinks in the armor—the cracks between marble blocks, the glass edges, and the doorway. Then no magic will be able to get in or out.”

“Any paranormal can use their power here without hurting anyone.” Tess smiled. “This is priceless, Merritt. I remember how difficult it was to control my powers when I first discovered I was a Lunar Fae. I could let loose in the lists at Tintagel, thank Luna. I’m not sure how I would have coped without that.”

“No young para in Little Avalon will ever have to worry about hurting someone when they train their magic.” Merritt couldn’t stop smiling. “We’ll open it to the public next week.”

Tess nudged her. “You’ll have the perfect place to train your male form, too.”

Merritt’s cheeks got hot. “N-no. It’s okay. I’ll train in my clearing where no one can see me.”

Tess cocked her head. “Why? Your male form isn’t a secret anymore.”

“No, but most paras in Little Avalon haven’t seen him yet.”

“Why shouldn’t they? He’s magnificent! They’ll love him.”

Merritt shifted her weight. “I’m not so sure. He can be intimidating. Many paras will never have seen anything like him.”

Tess regarded her contemplatively. “You’re still worried about rejection.”

Merritt cleared her throat.

“I understand why.” Tess touched her shoulder.

“People in Fernwood Deep and Wolf Glen looked at me with suspicion even in this form.” Merritt gestured at her body. “It’s different here in Little Avalon, but I get butterflies when I think about revealing my male form.”

“You’ll do it when you’re ready.”

Merritt’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She plucked it out. “It’s Val. That’s odd.”

“She’s supposed to be in the Iron Hills,” Tess observed.

Merritt answered the call. “Hey, Val. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s peachy. The conference started with a fascinating presentation about the future of ancient runic deployment in the adaptation of modern metalsmithing,” Val gushed. “This is great, but I’m walking to my next meeting right now, so I need you to pay attention.”

“Paying attention. How can I help?”

“I nominated you as my representative for a meeting at the Eternal Palace.”

Merritt grabbed Tess’ arm for support. “Come again?”

“Listen, there’s no time for spluttering or arguing. I have to be in the Iron Hills, but the meeting at the Eternal Palace can’t wait. It’s about Ylva.”

Merritt gulped. The valkyrie was the leader of an assassin group Merritt had helped Val’s team arrest a few days ago. “I’ve never been to the palace!”

“Congratulations. This will be your first trip. You know Ylva better than the rest of us. You’ve witnessed what she’s done. If the queen wants one of us to go to the palace and talk about her, you’re more qualified than I am.”

Merritt didn’t feel qualified to do anything other than melt into a puddle of horror. “O-okay.”

“Don’t stutter. You’re the Guardian of Little Avalon, which makes you my second-in-command. You can do this.”

Merritt squared her shoulders. “Okay.”

“Oh, and take Tess with you.”

Merritt exhaled. “Fantastic.”

“Thanks. I’m at my next meeting now. Bye.” Val hung up.

Merritt lowered the phone. “Um, how would you feel about going to the Eternal Palace with me?”

Tess beamed. “I would love to. I’ve been there often with the High Magic Division as we work to uncover more Lunar Fae history and defend our people’s needs.”

“Great. I have to represent Val at a meeting about Ylva.” Merritt’s phone chirped, and she glanced at the screen. “Um, this afternoon.”

“Lucky for you, my day is wide open.” Tess spread her arms.

“I’ll check the subway schedule,” Merritt suggested.

“Leave that to me. You bring the snacks,” Tess added hopefully.

Merritt smiled. That was fine by her.

Avalonian public transport had similarities to the subway system in New York City. The ponderous orc sitting beside Merritt had his chin on his chest, and the smell of stale alcohol rolled between his tusks with every snore. Across from her, a werewolf mom sat with three pups in her lap and occasionally snapped at the other four, who raced up and down the car in wolf form, biting and snarling. The faun sitting next to Tess on Merritt’s left was naked except for his glasses, albeit strategically covered in curly goat hair.

The train clattered to a halt at long last, and to Merritt’s relief, no one else got off at their stop except the faun. He hurried off without a backward glance.

Tess led her onto the platform. “Here we are.” She pointed. “The Eternal Palace. Take your time. Soak it in.”

Merritt’s jaw dropped.

The palace rose from the hill like a mountain. The battlemented wall enclosing it ascended from a cool, clear moat that shimmered in the sun. Beyond the wall were dozens of round towers with arrow slits and embrasures and pointed towers with multiple windows. All bore gargoyles, gleaming finials of gold and silver, domes of shining glass, and snapping banners in every color hanging from their peaks.

“Wow,” Merritt managed.

“This has been the seat of the Eternity Throne for thousands of years.” Moonlight surged beneath Tess’ skin as she led Merritt off the platform and along the verge next to the road to the gates. “It was Camelot, but Arthur and Merlin moved it to Avalon during its creation. Mordred razed it to the ground during the First Pendragon War. Afterward, the Seven Families rebuilt it and named it the Eternal Palace.”

“It’s incredible.” Merritt gulped.

Tess grinned. “Intimidated?”

“A little!”

“It’s okay. I get it. I barely knew Avalon existed the first time I came here to meet the High Magic Division and get a placement at Tintagel. The people are cool.”

Merritt didn’t believe “cool” was the appropriate adjective to describe the most important paranormals alive, but she kept that to herself.

“You see that none of the towers match? That’s a reflection of the many species who came together to build the palace.” Tess’ eyes shone with passion for the subject. “Though Sylthana Elves ruled from the Eternity Throne during most of the interwar period, the growing council had a say in the changes to the palace. That’s why it’s so diverse and beautiful.”

As they neared the gate, Merritt spotted dozens of niches in the thick pillars on either side. Griffins lay in every niche, their talons dangling over the edge. Sharp amber eyes studied Merritt and Tess as they approached the entryway. Merritt stuck close to the Lunar Fae. She’d seen a griffin swoop down, snatch a massive stag in its talons, and fly off to its nest in Fernwood Deep.

“Security’s changed since the war,” Tess observed. “When I first came here, that moat held molten lava, not water, and a glawackus used to check every visitor. These days, if the griffins know you, you can walk in.”

“I guess there are fewer threats now since the war’s been over for a few years.”

“For sure. Not even Niamh or the Bluefire Army would dare to attack this place.” Tess laughed. “These defenses would annihilate them in seconds.”

Tess waved at the griffins. They didn’t stir, but their eyes never left Tess and Merritt as they entered the grounds.

The courtyard had charming cobblestones and white rosebushes around its edge. Ornate wrought-iron signs pointed to the many gates, saying things like Council Hall, Throne Room, Dungeons, Menagerie, Restaurant, and Botanical Gardens.

“Botanical gardens?” Merritt leaned in that direction.

“Someday.” Tess grabbed her arm. “We’ll be late if we stop there now.”

“We have a few minutes.”

“You don’t understand. I’m not a plant person, and I can’t drag myself away in less than a few hours.”

Merritt longed to see the plants, but she peeled her gaze away from the sign and followed Tess through a maze of courtyards, following the signs for Council Hall. They reached an arched door with two griffin guards, who stepped in front of the door.

Tess curtsied. “Teresa Mendoza. Her Majesty expects me and Merritt Vale, Guardian of Little Avalon. We represent Duchess Eiravel.”

The first griffin sniffed Merritt’s face with a leonine snout. His mane nearly brushed her skin, surrounding her with a musky, animal smell. He was the size of a horse, and the talons inches from her feet were sharp and cruelly curved. “You may enter.”

Merritt scurried past him into a hall. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls between pedestals holding statuettes and artifacts.

“That one depicts the battle where Queen Julia fought Nimue.” Tess pointed at a photorealistic oil painting showing the queen wreathed in silver fire as she fought a dark fae who shot black lightning. “That was when the High Magic Division came out of hiding after the interwar period.”

“Hiding?” Merritt asked.

“Most Lunar Fae went to ground after the Second Pendragon War. We were kingless and disgraced. Things improved a little when Queen Esmerelda, Julia’s mother, took the throne, but the real revival came after the war ended.”

“Revival,” Merritt murmured. “Your people returned to full strength.”

Tess’ smile faded. “I bet you wish the same could happen for yours.”

Merritt swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I do, but we all know that can’t happen. I’m the last Leshbolg.”

CHAPTER THREE

Tess touched her shoulder. “Miracles happen. We won’t give up yet.”

Merritt wrung out a smile. “Thanks. I’m glad it happened for your people, Tess. The world has benefited from the Lunar Fae’s return. I wouldn’t be here if not for you guys.”

“All species benefit from each other. We make each other stronger.” Tess paused. “Oh, wow! Val made it to the main hall. It’s about time. She did save the world.”

They stopped to admire a tapestry hanging in pride of place. It depicted a gigantic armored figure holding a scythe that glowed with red magic. A fallen monster lay at her feet. Decapitation of Kronos, the heavy Gothic letters at the bottom read.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married.” Tess smiled. “She deserves every drop of happiness Niall can give her, and that’s plenty.”

“I agree. Hey, we need to plan a bridal shower for her as soon as we have a wedding date.”

“Val? A bridal shower?” Tess rubbed her chin. “I don’t think pink décor and card games are her vibe.”

“So we won’t do it like that,” Merritt enthused. “We plan something she’ll enjoy that caters to her taste. We could toss cabers instead of guessing the dress.”

“Cabers?” Tess laughed. “I love it.”

“We’re getting sidetracked.” Merritt checked her phone. “Do you know where council chamber three is?”

“Right over here.”

Tess led her down the hall to an open door. The room beyond wasn’t large, but its floor to ceiling window overlooked a lush garden with a colossal tree shading a pleasant lawn. A silver dragon lay on the lawn, eyes closed, tiny wisps of smoke escaping its nostrils as it snored.

Merritt dragged her eyes away from the greenery and took in the chamber. A crystal chandelier shed glittering light on a sturdy rectangular table. Velvet-upholstered chairs contained two paranormals. One was the queen, who waved at Merritt.

Merritt didn’t recognize the other paranormal, who sat with arms folded at the table’s end, facing the queen. She was a valkyrie like Ylva, wearing blue linen clothing trimmed with fur and decorated with darker blue patterns with geometric lines and jagged edges. Blue war paint streaked her face, and she wore her thick blonde hair in tight braids. Her feathered wings rustled as Merritt and Tess approached.

“Your Majesty.” Merritt bowed.

“Good morning, Guardian Vale. I’m pleased that Duchess Eiravel sent you in her place.” The queen inclined her head. “Please be seated.”

Tess and Merritt took their places at the table.

“This is Gunhilde Jarnhjarta, the valkyrie councilor,” the queen continued. “She asked to meet with representatives from Little Avalon.”

“I did not.” Gunhilde’s voice was harsh and guttural, the consonants sharp. “I requested an audience with the duchess.”

Merritt summoned her courage. “The duchess is unavailable, so she sent me as her representative. Whatever you would have said to her, you can say to me.”

Tess gave Merritt a silent round of applause under the table where no one else could see.

Gunhilde scowled. “Very well.”

“We are meeting regarding the fate of Ylva Blodamaekir, the valkyrie leader of the Boilbloods.” Queen Julia raised an imperious arm. “Let the prisoner come forward.”

A second door opened and two griffins advanced, flanking Ylva, who walked between them with her hands bound in magic-nulling cuffs. Chains bound her wings to her body. She wore a prisoner’s white jumpsuit, but her eyes flashed fire.

Merritt smiled at her. Ylva’s scowl deepened.

“Thanks to Duchess Eiravel and her team, the entire Boilblood group was arrested and detained by the OPMA, Ylva among them. She has been in the dungeon here since then.” Queen Julia steepled her fingers. “I promised her leniency in light of her actions since she honorably surrendered herself and her entire group.”

“Honorable surrender!” Gunhilde sneered.

Ylva hung her head, staring at the floor.

The queen raised her head. “Would you have preferred a massacre on the streets of the South Bronx, Councilor?”

Gunhilde hesitated.

“I promised Ylva a sentence of vassalship instead of imprisonment or banishment to the prison realm, which is what her crimes would ordinarily warrant,” Queen Julia added.

Merritt nodded. She had been there. Ylva shifted her weight and raised her head, hope flickering in her eyes, but she said nothing.

“On behalf of my species, Your Majesty, I have no choice but to confront you about your promise.” Gunhilde’s wings ruffled. “Ylva Blodamaekir might be a prisoner of the Eternity Throne, but she is a valkyrie and thus belongs to Valhalla. We will prosecute her as we see fit.”

“What do you propose, Councilor?”

Gunhilde squared her shoulders. “The valkyries demand that Blodamaekir be released into our custody for judgment according to our ancient laws.”

“Judgment.” The queen folded her arms. “Execution, in other words.”

“Blodamaekir is a murderer. According to valkyrie law, we shall split her in half with an ax, take her heart from her chest, and burn her body on the North Sea.”

The color drained from Ylva’s face. Merritt blinked at the gory description, even though she’d researched valkyrie customs and had known it was coming. It didn’t seem to surprise the queen, either.

“Your people have a right to their culture and justice system. I don’t dispute that. But Ylva is the Eternity Throne’s prisoner, not the valkyries’.” Queen Julia spread her hands. “To be blunt, you weren’t there. Guardian Vale was. I would like to hear her perspective on the character and fate of Ylva Blodamaekir.”

Merritt quailed when Gunhilde turned her sharp eyes on her. She imagined Ylva as she’d seen her in Little Avalon, a dying friend cradled in her arms and her eyes desperate. That same desperation flickered in her eyes now. That gave Merritt the courage she needed.

“I’m here to advocate on Ylva’s behalf.” Merritt’s confident words rang through the room. “I’m not only the person who captured Ylva. I was almost her victim. I’ve seen firsthand how dangerous she is, but I still believe that vassalship is the right sentence for her.”

Ylva’s shoulders tightened.

“Why?” Gunhilde demanded.

“Ylva is dangerous, but she’s a self-sacrificing leader who adheres to a code of honor. She would do anything for her people, and inspires the same loyalty in them.” She shrugged. “Ylva gave in to Alecto’s temptation and allowed her formerly honorable group to become murderers-for-hire. She wounded me, but when one of her people was in danger, she risked everything to bring him to Little Avalon and seek help.

“She was honest with us and made good on her promise to surrender peacefully to the OPMA. Ylva has made many mistakes, but her recent choices show a change in her. Killing her would be like crushing a flower as it blooms—a waste of great potential and, above all, unjust.”

She met Ylva’s eyes across the chamber. The tears in them startled her, and Ylva quickly blinked them back.

“Do you question valkyrie justice?” Gunhilde’s eyes flashed.

Queen Julia raised her palms. “We do not, Councilor. All species are entitled to enact their laws⁠—”

“Then give me Blodamaekir that I may take her back to Valhalla to face the justice of her people.”

Queen Julia’s eyes narrowed. “What about everything Guardian Vale told you? Do her repentance and submission mean nothing?”

Ylva gulped, her larynx bobbing.

“It does not erase her transgressions. She will die for them,” Gunhilde growled.

“I see.” Queen Julia sat back. “The valkyries and the Lunar Fae have a very different understanding of grace.”

“Grace has no place in the law. I have no time for this, either. I have come to fetch Blodamaekir. I will return to Valhalla with her.”

Silver sparks jumped between the queen’s fingers, and tiny flames awakened on her nail beds. “Tread carefully, Councilor. I have heard you out as a courtesy, but I am your queen.”

“Your Majesty—” Merritt began.

Gunhilde bared her teeth, their tips sharpened like Ylva’s. “Blodamaekir was born a valkyrie, so we will judge her under valkyrie law. We have that right.”

“Except when it directly contradicts Eternity Law.” Queen Julia raised her chin. “My word is that law, and I gave Ylva my word that I would not have her executed.”

Ylva’s head turned left and right as she followed the argument, but she said nothing, though her fingers flexed restlessly.

Gunhilde’s hands curled into fists on the table. “Then you threaten the fabric that holds the valkyries together. If you will not honor our laws, how can we honor you as our ruler?”

“Your Majesty!” Merritt barked.

Queen Julia rounded on her. “Yes?”

“There’s another way.” Merritt ignored the thorns sprouting from the table near her. They continued to grow as she spoke. “We can resolve this under valkyrie law without executing Ylva and breaking the Throne’s promise to her.”

Ylva’s eyes widened.

The sparks ebbing from the queen’s fingers. “Tell us your idea.”

“Blodamaekir must die,” Gunhilde snarled.

“Under valkyrie law, dishonorable killing marks one for death. It taints one’s very existence as a valkyrie, transforming them into something different and lesser. In the eyes of all valkyries, Ylva is no longer one of them. She’s blodmerktr, blood-marked. She has dishonorable blood on her hands. Correct me if I’m wrong, Councilor.”

Ylva’s cheeks were pink.

Gunhilde’s mouth hung open. “How do you know valkyrie customs?”

Tess and the queen stared at the Leshbolg.

Merritt cleared her throat. “I anticipated that Ylva might return to Little Avalon under vassalship, so I did a little light reading. Am I wrong?”

Gunhilde’s fists relaxed. “No. You are correct.”

“The valkyries divide all creatures into two categories: Hunters and Hunted. All valkyries treat the Hunters with great respect, including eagles, wolves, bears, orcas, bobcats, and valkyries themselves. They can only kill Hunters in open battle. Valkyries can kill the Hunted in cold blood, like moose, whales, and mountain goats.” Merritt paused. “As well as the blodmerktr. They are categorized as Hunted.”

Ylva bowed her head in shame.

Gunhilde gave a swift bark of laughter. “Your research did not lead you astray, Guardian Vale. This is precisely why we will execute the blodmerktr in cold blood. They are no longer Hunter. Their dishonor has made them Hunted.”

“Then I’m right in saying there’s one way for a valkyrie to avoid execution.” Merritt inclined her head. “She must go from Hunted to Hunter. She must restore her status as a valkyrie.”

“Indeed.” Gunhilde’s eyes narrowed. “Yet that is impossible.”

“Very difficult and probably unlikely, but not impossible. There’s a difference.” Merritt smirked. “I should know.”

Queen Julia leaned forward. “Tell us what you’re thinking.”

“The blodmerktr has a right to trial by quest,” Merritt declared.

Ylva tensed as Merritt spoke.

“In this trial,” Merritt continued, “the Hunted can attempt to prove that they are a true valkyrie by doing the one thing that will make them a Hunter again. They must kill the greatest Hunter.”

Ylva grimaced.

“Who is that?” Queen Julia asked.

Gunhilde answered. “The White Roc of Islandseyja.”

Ylva gulped hard.

“Trust me,” Merritt mouthed.

“Excuse me? Am I missing something?” Queen Julia raised an eyebrow. “Kill a rock? Rocks are dead. Usually.”

“Roc without a K, Your Majesty,” Merritt told her. “A giant bird.”

“Ah.” The queen sat back. “That makes more sense.”

Gunhilde sneered. “This Hunted could never achieve that. No valkyrie has ever succeeded in killing the White Roc. It is the greatest beast of the North. Even the valkyries dare not fly near its island for fear it will pluck them from the sky.”

“But if she did,” Merritt insisted, “it would make her a Hunter again. It would make her a valkyrie and absolve her from all her crimes.”

Queen Julia grinned like a jack-o'-lantern. Gunhilde’s glare simmered from the queen to Ylva to Merritt.

The councilor sighed. “Yes. If Ylva Blodamaekir brings the head of the White Roc to Valhalla, she will again be a valkyrie under our law.”

“You would accept her as one of you, then,” Merritt repeated.

Gunhilde ground out the words between clenched teeth. “We would.”

“Let me be clear.” Queen Julia leaned forward. “This does nothing to absolve her from her crimes under Eternity Law. The sentence of vassalship stands.”

“Indeed. But in this absurd hypothetical scenario where this dishonorable Blodamaekir performs the feat, no valkyrie will have any claim on her life.” Gunhilde shook her head. “This conversation is foolishness. Trial by quest is an almost-forgotten tradition. Too many valkyries died in pursuit of the White Roc.”

“I’ll do it.” Every head in the room turned to Ylva. Despite the chains, the valkyrie held her head high. “I invoke my right to trial by quest.”

Gunhilde sneered. “You go to your death.”

“Better a fighting death than to kneel before an executioner,” Ylva snapped. “But I plan for more than an honorable death, Jarnhjarta. I will bring back the head of the White Roc and prove I am as much a valkyrie as any of you.”

Gunhilde glared.

“Do you deny me my right under valkyrie law?” Ylva demanded.

Gunhilde snorted. “Do not bleat valkyrie law to me, Hunted. I accept your trial by quest, but you have not heard the conditions. You may carry no weapons other than what an honorable valkyrie would—blades of steel. You may use no magic other than your own. Finally, only one paranormal may accompany you on your quest.”

“One companion?” Ylva hesitated. “None will come with me. I will fight alone.”

“You will die, then.”

“She won’t.” Merritt stood, pushing her chair back with a squeal. “I’ll go with her.”

Queen Julia’s grin widened.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Excellency.” Tess stood and bowed to Queen Julia and Gunhilde in turn. “I request a brief recess.”

“What do we… Ow!” Merritt stared at Tess.

Tess seized her by the ear and towed her out of the chamber. She slammed the door behind them. “Merritt, what in Merlin’s name are you thinking?”

“Let go of my ear!”

“Fine.” Tess released her. “My question stands. Valhalla is in the far north of Avalon. You’d be in an isolated community of among the most dangerous paranormals in the world, and your only friend would be her!” She gestured furiously at the chamber. “She tried to kill you, remember?”

“Most of that was a misunderstanding,” Merritt pointed out.

Tess huffed. “I don’t care. It’s too dangerous. Can you imagine how tempting it would be to kill you and escape? She’d be free, Merritt.”

Merritt smiled. “Do you really think Her Majesty would let Ylva return to Valhalla without placing her under vassalship first?”

Tess stopped short.

“Whoever is her liege will tell her not to hurt me. Besides, I can take care of myself, remember?”

Tess sighed. “I don’t like it, but you have a point. I know that look in your eye. There’s no stopping you now.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“You need to be careful, that’s all,” Tess added. “Val will have my guts for garters if anything happens to you.”

They returned to the chamber, where an extremely awkward silence presided.

“Apologies for the delay, Your Majesty, Your Excellency.” Merritt bowed to the queen and Gunhilde in turn. “I confirm that I will accompany Ylva to Islandseyja.”

“Very well. Then it is decided.” Queen Julia’s tone left no room for debate. “Ylva will receive vassalship this night. The moon is right for it. She will become my vassal.”

Ylva’s eyes widened.

“Yours, Your Majesty?” Merritt asked.

“Indeed. Call it an experiment. We’ll see how it goes.” The queen folded her arms. “After that, Guardian Vale will take her to Valhalla for her trial by quest. Councilor Jarnhjarta, given your people’s honor, I know that no harm will come to Merritt at valkyrie hands.”

“You are correct,” Gunhilde conceded. “No valkyrie will harm her, but I cannot speak for the worthless Hunted.”

Ylva flinched.

“The Throne will arrange transport to Valhalla for you both.” Queen Julia rose. “This meeting is adjourned.”

The griffins bundled Ylva away, and Merritt and Tess stood back for the queen and the councilor to exit. They followed more slowly, Tess chewing her lip in worry.

“I’ll be fine, Tess,” Merritt told her.

“You’d better be.” Tess sighed.

Someone stepped out of the darkness beside a life-sized statue of Lancelot. Merritt jumped, then stumbled back in awe. It was Merlin. Tess halted and bowed. Merlin’s folded wings shed silver light, leaving him backlit and splendid in blue-and-silver robes. A thick white beard curled down his chest from sharp cheekbones.

“S-sir,” Merritt squeaked.

“No need to look petrified, Merritt.” Merlin inclined his head. “I merely wanted to ask how you are.”

Merritt gulped. “Thriving.” She paused. “Thank you for placing me in Little Avalon, sir. It’s my home now.”

“She’s part of its essence,” Tess chipped in, much less fazed.

“Good.” Merlin tilted his head. “I notice you’re not wearing your amulet as you did at the wedding.”

Merritt touched the space on her chest where the amulet had hung.

“I hope it’s not because of what you and Julie found in Alecto’s lair,” Merlin added.

Merritt lowered her head, allowing her curls to fall over her face. “The amulet is powerful, but if the Furies are interested in it, maybe it holds the wrong kind of power.”

“We don’t know that.” Merlin laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t stop believing in your people, Merritt. They must have fought the darkness.”

Merritt looked up. “How can you know that, sir?”

Merlin smiled. “From personal experience with the only Leshbolg I know.”

The enormous dog’s risen hackles made him appear twice his normal size. Red magic sent sparks through his coat and sizzled behind his eyes as he raised his tail and bared his teeth in a challenge.

Akila’s long tail lashed her haunches, and her hair stood like a rampart down her back. Her long, lithe frame was low to the ground on stout legs, and she curled her lips back from sharp fangs in a face that was part bear, part cat.

Shadow dropped into a bow.

Akila yipped and sprang at him, agile and elastic. She landed between his front paws and snapped at his throat. Shadow slapped her ribs with a paw, sending her tumbling, and pounced on her. Akila squirmed out from under him and shot between his back legs with a parting nip to his tail.

Shadow yelped in indignation.

“Hey!” Merritt lowered her bow. “You guys, I’m trying to practice.”

Shadow stopped, tail wagging. Merritt good girl! Merritt shoot well. His husky voice resounded through her mind.

Akila gnawed on Shadow’s front leg. He jerked his paw aside and chewed on her little round ears.

Merritt gave up on trying to get them to stop playing and drew her bow again. The supple yew flexed, the fletching of a new arrow tickling the fingertips of her right hand. Despite the black night surrounding this part of Esmerelda Park, a yellow-green glow illuminated the clearing like daylight, thanks to the hundreds of lightning bugs hovering among the branches. She took careful aim at a target across the clearing.

Thanks, guys, Merritt thought.

Hundreds of tiny wings hummed in response.

Merritt drew the string a smidgen tighter and exhaled. She released, and the arrow pierced the center of the target with a heavy crunch.

Merritt lowered the bow, grinning, and Shadow slammed into the back of her knees. She flung the bow clear as she fell face-first on the soft grass.

Sorry! Shadow yelped, trying to fend Akila off as she nipped at his paws.

Merritt laughed. Give me a little space, you two. I’m trying to get ready to fight the White Roc tomorrow.

She got up and raised the bow, trying to imagine what skills she would require to fight an eagle the size of a house. After a moment’s deliberation, Merritt slung the bow over her shoulder and stepped back, eyeing the trees.

She couldn’t beat the White Roc with strength, but she was sure it couldn’t equal her agility or speed. She backed away a few more steps, then sprinted forward. In mid-sprint, her limbs shortened and a fluffy tail sprouted; she ran the last foot as a red squirrel. Her powerful hind legs launched her onto the tree’s trunk, and her claws found easy purchase on the bark as she raced up. When the branches curved above her, her fur became feathers, and she whirred between them as a sparrow.

Her avian eyes quickly found the target. She flipped and landed on the branch’s tip as a human. Her weight bowed the branch, but she raised the bow, which had returned with her human form, nocked an arrow, and loosed it in the half-second it took for the branch to buckle beneath her.

The arrow thudded into the target as she transformed and fluttered to the ground. Her human feet hit the grass, and she loosed a second arrow as she dropped to her knees.

The arrow struck the target beside its fellow, barbed heads touching. The shafts twanged against one another.

Good girl, Merritt!

Akila chirped with pleasure.

Breathless, Merritt rose and unstrung the bow. Thanks, guys. She stashed it in the quiver. I spent a lot of time training my male form tonight. I better sleep for an hour before we meet Ylva at the NYHQ.

The beasts followed her across the park, passing the magic-nulling dome. Merritt hadn’t revealed the dome’s name yet. That would come during its public unveiling after she returned from killing the White Roc. She hoped it wouldn’t take long. Moving public events was a big pain.

Merritt smiled, thinking about the name. The Mendoza Dome. Tess had inspired her to build it, and she often went unsung in Little Avalon.

When they left the park, the streets were quiet. The nocturnal paras were at work at four. An owl sitting in the branches of one of the pin oaks lining the street turned its head to follow them as they passed.

Merritt bye! Shadow licked her hand. Akila bye! He bounded off to Lillie House as Merritt and Akila went home.

Merritt was ready for a hot shower and a nap when she clumped up the steps to her apartment. She pushed the front door open, muffling a yawn, and almost collided with Damian.

“Oh, hey, Damian.” Merritt ushered Akila in.

The vampire crossed his arms. “Don’t ‘Oh, hey, Damian’ me.”

“Oh, hey, Damian.”

“Stop teasing!” Damian threw up his hands. “This is serious.”

Merritt wandered to the fridge as Akila curled up in her fluffy bed in the corner. “What’s serious?”

“Merritt, for Merlin’s sake!” Damian’s grimace bared his fangs. “What were you thinking? You’re going to Valhalla to fight the White Roc with the bitch who tried to kill you.”

“She wasn’t trying to kill me. She was trying to talk to me. I just thought she was trying to kill me.” Merritt poked around in the fridge and found a carton of hard-boiled eggs. “That was why we fought.”

“Sure, she wasn’t trying to kill you. That was why I found you lying on a parking garage floor, concussed and bleeding with the valkyrie standing over you with her katanas in her hands.”

“Aww, Damian. It scared you.” Merritt touched his arm.

He jerked back. “You’re being stupid, Merritt.”

“Encouraging. Thanks.”

“It’s true!” Damian waved his arms. “What are you thinking? You could get killed!”

Merritt sat at the table, popped the carton open, and peeled one egg. “Your overprotectiveness is getting old.”

“I had to save your ass from Ylva before. Now you’re going to a whole country full of those people to fight a monster!”

Merritt gaped.

Damian’s shoulders sagged. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have used that word. I know it’s inappropriate, but I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“I’m the Guardian of Little Avalon, so I do whatever I have to do for people who need my help.” Merritt shoved the peeled egg into her mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

Damian ran a hand over his face. “I still think you’re being reckless and stupid.”

“Do you still have your sting operation this morning?” Merritt asked with her mouth full.

Damian scowled. “Yes. Seems my target is diurnal. I tried to sleep, but it’s not working. I have to leave in a couple of hours.”

“Cool.” Merritt swallowed. “Can I get a ride to the NYHQ with you?”

Damian stared at her. “You’re insufferable.”

“Is that a yes?”

The vampire sighed. “Of course I’ll give you a ride.”

Merritt beamed. “Thanks, man.” She pecked him on the cheek, picked up the egg carton, and went to her room with Akila at her heels.

CHAPTER FOUR

The New York Headquarters of the Official Para-Military Agency was a perfectly ordinary building. Its squat five stories were dull red bricks. A brass sign over the double doors declared its name, and the campus had well-maintained lawns and manicured shrubbery.

It was far from ordinary, however. Paras hurried across the grounds, lounged on the lawn, and popped in and out of the building, wearing uniforms of several colors. Orcs, werewolves, trolls, dwarves, vampires, elves, fae, and dragons in human form passed Damian and Merritt as they approached the entrance.

She stayed close to Damian, feeling out of place in the clothes in which she’d arrived from Wolf Glen; fur-lined leggings, deerskin boots, and a T-shirt. The shirt was new, but she carried the Mavka tunic, which had a wolfskin hood and lining.

A passing orc slowed, eyes widening as she looked at Damian. “Agent Radu, sir?” She blinked. “Is that you?”

Damian stopped. “How may I help you...” He squinted at the name on the orc’s navy uniform. “Recruit Costello?”

The orc raised a hand to her mouth. “S-sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”

Damian huffed. “No more than it is to meet anyone here.”

The orc flushed and hurried off.

“Wow.” Merritt raised her eyebrows. “You’re more important than you let on.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m no hero. You see that para coming out of the building?”

Merritt squinted. The woman’s black hair and large amber eyes suggested Woodland Fae, but her round nose was human.

“That’s Agent in Charge Elspeth Feathertouch. She leads the OPMA’s intelligence division, even though she only joined a few years ago.” Damian’s tone grew hushed. “She’s the one who located Mordred in the Deep and brought that information to Queen Julia, allowing her to destroy him.”

“Wow.”

“It’s an honor to work with her.” Damian blinked. “You’re going to be late. This way.” He hustled her into the military wing, where phones rang and navy-uniformed paras bustled in every direction.

“The portal room is down this hall.” Damian pointed. “Don’t get killed, okay?”

“I’ll be home for dinner.” Merritt patted his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”

His exasperated sigh followed her into a large wood-paneled room. Dozens of portals circled it: round doorways into many continents and dimensions, their edges sizzling with magic.

“There you are, Merritt.” Queen Julia waited in the room’s center. “Right on time.”

Ylva stood beside her, head low. Her fur coat that didn’t fit well over the white jumpsuit. Slits in the back allowed her wings freedom, but they drooped.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Merritt greeted. “Hi, Ylva.”

The valkyrie shot her a sullen look. She wore no cuffs, Merritt realized.

“We completed the vassalship last night,” the queen explained. “Ylva is now bound to me and must obey my commands.”

Ylva’s lip curled.

“The previous prisoners we placed under vassalship have lived with their lieges, who help them to reintegrate with society. This time, I’m trying something different.” Queen Julia grinned. “I’ve given Ylva only one command: obey all Eternity Law.”

Merritt stopped. “That...might be genius, Your Majesty.”

“It remains to be seen. Eternity Law isn’t restrictive. Any para can live a fruitful, fun, and peaceful life without breaking it.” Queen Julia inclined her head. “Ylva will live in Little Avalon when this is over, Merritt. As its Guardian, I’m counting on you to make that arrangement work. If anything goes wrong, you’ll tell me.”

The look Ylva gave Merritt was hooded.

“It will be my honor, Your Majesty,” Merritt assured the queen.

“Good.” The queen checked her phone. “The dimensional fluctuations are steady today. It’s dawn in Valhalla. Gunhilde and Queen Tove are waiting for you. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Merritt pulled on her tunic and adjusted the quiver’s strap over her shoulder. She flipped the wolfskin hood over her head. “Ready, Ylva?”

Ylva nodded.

“Let’s do this.” Merritt strode toward the portal with a sign reading Valhalla.

“Don’t get killed, Merritt. You’re too useful for that.” Queen Julia touched Ylva’s arm as she passed. “Ylva?”

The valkyrie flinched away.

Queen Julia smiled. “Good luck. I hope your people accept you.”

Ylva marched toward the portal.

Merritt braced herself for the portal sickness. The debilitating nausea and dizziness had faded over the past few months to an uncomfortable twinge in her stomach and a moment’s blurred vision. A frigid coastal breeze caressed Merritt’s cheek. Snow crunched beneath her boots.

They had reached Valhalla.

Merritt and Ylva stood on a hill covered in snow, looking down at the city sprawled at the ocean’s edge. The sea and sky were both gray, with white-capped waves rushing to the rocky coastline as a restless wind whipped up froth on the water. Low rectangular houses with sturdy log walls and sod-covered roofs hunkered in a series of arcs running down to the beach. Wood smoke mingled with the fog, seeping from gaps in the longhouses’ roofs. They had no chimneys, doors, or windows except the trapdoors on every roof.

Wooden docks stretched out into the sea. Safely beyond the rocky shoreline, rows of longships were tied to the barnacle-encrusted piers. Their furled sails made their masts look tall and slender. Each had a colorful figurehead: proud women, snarling lions, wide-beaked eagles, wolves with snouts held high, and open-mouthed dragons. The shields that hung down the length of each ship bore the emblem that matched its figurehead.

Wings filled the sky. Merritt squinted at what she thought were hundreds of seabirds, but the wings were too wide for an albatross. When one flock dipped low, Merritt realized they were valkyries, snow dusting their feathers as they soared toward the main street. They landed on their feet, folded their wings, and strode down the street, chatting.

She turned to Ylva. “Welcome back to Valhalla.”

Ylva sighed. “It’s precisely as I remember it, even after so many years.” Her eyes were distant and wistful.

“’So many years?’”

“I last saw Valhalla when I was a child.” Ylva’s wings stirred. “I don’t wish to speak of it. We are here to kill the White Roc.”

She marched forward, chin high and shoulders back. Merritt jogged beside her, wishing she’d gotten Ylva more appropriate clothes. Then again, given her wingless companion, Ylva stood out anyway. There were valkyries everywhere Merritt looked. They worked on the ships, tying knots, and hauling in nets while singing shanties that sounded like war chants. Others walked the city walls, which were tree trunks with sharpened points. They carried short swords and shields but wore no armor except bearskin cloaks and breastplates of toughened leather.

A rush of wings made Merritt slow as they approached the gates. Six valkyries swooped overhead, filling the sky with pale feathers. These carried spears and wore red war paint on their faces in the shapes of claw marks and paw prints.

“A hunting party,” Ylva muttered. “That much I remember.”

“Amazing.”

Ylva grunted.

Two tall guards watched intently from the gate as Merritt and Ylva approached, but they didn’t stop them. The valkyrie councilor had clearly given instructions to let them pass.

Heads turned as they proceeded down the main street. Valkyrie fledglings hopped on a playground with monkey bars and climbing frames fifteen feet tall. Their mothers sat on nearby rooftops, chatting as they shared cups of something that steamed in the cold air. Salt crunched under Merritt’s feet, making the stone streets less slippery.

Someone shouted in Valkyrese. Ylva grabbed Merritt’s arm and towed her out of the street.

“What’s happening?” Merritt yelped.

“She’s saying, ‘Make way, make way,’” Ylva translated.

The ground shuddered. Thundering hooves echoed through the city, and a pack of wolves galloped into views. Horses, too: heavy beasts with thick gray fur. The wolves were taller than the horses. War paint streaked their coats, and wolves and horses ran side by side, ridden by valkyries with spears and shields. Their riders didn’t look left or right as they pounded past.

“Wow,” Merritt managed. “I guess what they say about the giant wolves of the north is true.”

“Magnificent beasts,” Ylva murmured.

“You can say that again. Hey, I smell food.”

The street terminated at a market square by the docks. Vendors stood behind their tables, selling delicious-smelling vegetable stews, marbled chunks of whale meat, crackling skin thick with spices, dried fish, and the pelts of bears and seals.

Ylva licked her lips. “I remember the taste of that fish she’s frying.” She pointed at an elderly valkyrie who expertly worked her pan over an open fire. “It’s...it’s wonderful.”

“We’ll get some after we kill the White Roc.”

They paused as a giggling toddler scampered past, her little arms outstretched. Her tiny wings had yellow down instead of feathers.

“Your confidence is unwarranted,” Ylva muttered. “The White Roc is all but invincible.”

“This is your only chance to gain acceptance from your people.”

“No, Merritt. It’s my only chance to survive,” Ylva snapped. “If I do not do this, these valkyries will execute me.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You think you can stop them?”

Merritt eyed the people in the square. They seemed ordinary, carrying shopping baskets and shouting at their children, but when their eyes landed on Ylva, they changed. She realized that they all carried weapons, mostly daggers and short swords. They all had war in their eyes.

“Let’s stick to Plan A,” Merritt suggested.

Ylva pointed. “The councilor awaits.”

“Have you ever considered talking like a normal person?”

Ylva sneered.

Merritt followed her to where Gunhilde waited, tall and splendid in an embroidered tunic with the emblem of a rampant lynx. She carried a short sword and had slung a shield on her back. Her wings were folded over it, and the war paint below her eyes and on her chin made her look like she’d bled blue.

“Guardian Vale,” Gunhilde greeted.

Merritt bowed. “Good morning, Councilor.”

Gunhilde didn’t address or look at Ylva. “You are free to step away from this quest, Guardian. It is not your duty to accompany this Hunted to Islandseyja. The danger is real, and I have no quarrel with Little Avalon. I see no point in risking your life…and war between Valhalla and your home.”

“There won’t be a war,” Merritt told her. “My duchess knows I chose to come here. My life is my own.”

“Very well.” Gunhilde sighed. “Go with the Hunted if you must, but your blood is on your own head.”

“Where are we going?” Merritt asked.

Gunhilde pointed. In the far, foggy distance, a blue peak rose from the gray sea. “Islandseyja, the Island of Ice. The White Roc lives at the top of the mountain.”

“Great.”

“You carry no magic other than your own?” Gunhilde asked.

Merritt touched her quiver. “A bow and arrows, my ability to shapeshift, and my power over plants. That’s all.”

“You honor your species. What of you, Hunted?” Gunhilde demanded.

Ylva drew her katanas. They were beautiful, lithe, and deadly, tapering to vicious points. Their blades held an edge that could slice the sunlight. “I bear only my blades.”

Gunhilde sneered. “They qualify as steel, I suppose, but those are not the weapons of a valkyrie.” She touched her short sword. “They are the weapons of an assassin or of the Hunted. May the White Roc feast on your bones.”

Merritt bit back a sarcastic response. “We’ll bring back its head, Councilor.” She turned toward the island, transforming as she moved, to swoop across the waves as a snowy owl. The rush of air on her feathers told her Ylva was behind her. Merritt flew low, enjoying her reflection in the gray surface. Spray splattered her feathers as a fishy thing with far too many teeth broke the surface and snapped in her direction, missing her by inches.

Merritt fluttered several feet higher, joining Ylva as she effortlessly soared on her massive wings. “That thing was scary.”

Ylva rolled her eyes. “Stay away from the water. None know what lurks in the North Sea.” She adjusted her grip on the katanas. “But they all fear the White Roc. Legend says it catches orcas and takes their carcasses to its nest.”

“We’ll employ our agility to kill it. It’s stronger, but we’re faster. If we dodge its wings, beak, and talons...”

“You have a point.”

“I will turn into a shrew and hide in its feathers if I have to, then distract it. Then you can kill it.”

Ylva nodded. “Indeed.”

A wild cry caught Merritt’s attention. She swooped upward to join a huge bird wheeling high above the water. The albatross’ twelve-foot wings barely stirred as it commanded the breeze, studying Merritt with near-black eyes.

She hooted. The albatross had never seen anything like her. Merritt flew nearer, studying his face and wings. She slowly lengthened her beak and increased her wingspan, adjusting her feathers’ shape for distance rather than silence. Her legs lengthened, and webbing formed between her toes.

The albatross gave a disgruntled squawk and flew away.

Merritt dipped to rejoin Ylva. “What do you think?”

“Merlin’s warty posterior!” Ylva fluttered, losing balance. “Where did you come from?”

“It’s me. You know I shapeshift.”

“I—” Ylva shook her head. “Your beak is the wrong color.”

Merritt lightened it. “Better?”

Ylva blinked. “Yes. I would never have guessed you were not an albatross.”

“These wings are great.” Merritt stretched them. “I can see myself flying across an entire ocean with them.”

“We don’t need to.” Ylva pointed a katana. “We are here.”

Islandseyja was no bigger than one block in Little Avalon. Obsidian and blue ice glittered on the mountain’s slopes, which ascended to a jagged peak with something dark and round at the apex—the White Roc’s nest, Merritt guessed. At the mountain’s foot, the flat island was covered with white snow except for the splatter of scarlet near the shore.

“Is that a blood trail?” Merritt wondered.

“It is. Make no sound.”

The hiss of the wind over their wings underscored the silence as they followed the red trail around the island. When Merritt spotted their quarry, her heart thumped on the back of her tongue. The White Roc perched near the shoreline, its beak and talons covered in blood. It was tearing ribbons of flesh off a limp polar bear and gulping them down with loud clacks of its enormous beak. The huge bear looked like a rat in the roc’s claws.

Ylva emitted a tiny, strangled sound. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the katanas, and a muscle jumped on her cheek as her jaw clenched.

They flew in a silent circle around the roc as it ripped off a leg and choked it down. The wind ruffled its feathers, which seemed paler than the surrounding snow. The stout limbs and curved beak were gray-black, and its eyes were amber.

“It’s a beautiful creature.” Merritt suppressed a pang of sorrow. The valkyries’ description had led her to expect a vicious monster, but this was one of Luna’s beautiful creatures, and it had done them no harm. They had come to its land to attack it.

Ylva hovered above the shore. “It must die.”

“Ylva, wait.” Unable to hover, Merritt flew around her. “We should talk about this. We⁠—”

The White Roc’s scream split the sky as it sped toward them, wings thundering and its bloodstained beak wide. Merritt wheeled away with a squawk of alarm as the roc’s talons snatched nothing inches from her. Its wings made the air turbulent, and feathers flew off her body as she struggled in the draft. The roc’s beak chomped a breath from her wing.

Merritt swerved and plummeted, then pulled out of her desperate dive yards from the snow. The air down here was less turbulent. She twisted her head, searching for Ylva. The valkyrie was a tiny shape with frantic wings as she strove to escape the roc, which was many times her size. Its beak snapped inches from Ylva’s feet.

Merritt sped toward a ledge on the mountain. She transformed, slipped on the damp rock, and had to grab the ledge with her hands to keep herself from falling. Her heart thudded in her neck and wrists as she fumbled the bow and an arrow out of the quiver.

Ylva swerved and the roc screeched, wings flailing as it struggled to turn with her. Its talons clutched the air yards from her. Merritt drew and aimed at the roc’s chest but hesitated. She redirected the arrow at its right wing and released.

The roc chased Ylva, but Merritt’s power over plants gripped the arrow. She made a slicing motion with her free hand, and the arrow changed course to plunge into the pink underside of the roc’s wing.

It threw its head back and screamed. Merritt leaped off the ledge, spread albatross wings, and soared to join Ylva as she faced the roc, who writhed and flapped, shedding feathers as it tried to bite the arrow out of its wing. “Ylva, we have to go.”

“No. I must do this.” Ylva gripped the katanas.

“This is madness. I thought this beast was a monster, but it’s an innocent animal. Killing it won’t restore your honor!”

“It will in the eyes of the valkyries.”

“Ylva, stop!”

The valkyrie charged. Merritt flew after her, squawking. The woman raised her deadly katanas and swooped at the roc’s head. The bird swerved aside and swung its wounded wing into Ylva’s chest, knocking her into a tumble, then stretched its talons out.

“Hey!” Merritt yelled. “Hey, over here!”

She slammed her wings into the back of the roc’s head, but it barely noticed. It swiped at Ylva’s tumbling form as the valkyrie strove to regain her balance.

Merritt transformed and landed on the roc’s back as an arctic fox, her paws scrabbling amid the feathers. She sank her teeth into the roc’s neck.

Hot blood filled her mouth. The roc reared, twisting its neck to find her. She ran over its back, inflicting bites on every scrap of exposed flesh she encountered. The roc’s muscles churned as it struggled to find her. As she sprinted toward its tail feathers, the beast spotted her; its amber eye was the size of her fox body. It opened its beak, and Merritt launched into the air with a grunt of effort.

She wheeled away in albatross form, expecting the roc to pursue, but the clang of blade on beak made her swoop back. Ylva was too close. She swung the katanas again, and the roc snapped at her, deflecting the blades with its beak. They scored on the dark surface. The roc’s churning wings buffeted Ylva, making her clothes whip around her slender body as it clawed at her legs. She yanked them up, and they barely missed.

“Ylva!” Merritt landed on the mountainside and took human form. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yelled “Ylva!” again.

The valkyrie swung the katanas at the roc’s throat, but it jerked its head back and swiped with its talons. Ylva fluttered back, but the roc’s deadly claw sliced the front of her coat. It fluttered in the wind from the enormous bird’s wings.

“Shit!” Merritt drew her bow. She didn’t want to kill this beast, but she wouldn’t let Ylva die.

The roc slashed at Ylva with its other foot. When she blocked the blow with the katanas, it lunged at her beak-first to decapitate her.

Merritt took aim. “I’m sorry.” She released the arrow. Aim true, the projectile slammed into the feathers on the roc’s chest.

The beast screamed in pain as scarlet blood covered its white breast feathers. Wheeling around, it swung its left wing into Ylva, knocking her sideways, then dove toward Merritt before she spotted where the valkyrie had gone.

Merritt stuffed the bow into the quiver, but the creature was upon her before she could transform. Its talons slammed into the cliff above and below her, and rock and ice crumbled and pinned her limbs to her body. She didn’t have the breath to scream. A talon thudded into the back of her head, and her vision turned dark and spotty.

“Merritt!” Ylva’s scream was distant.

Merritt vaguely thought, I should transform, but her limbs seemed to be a thousand miles away. The roc’s claws closed around her, crushing her. She couldn’t breathe, so her head spun as the beast flew toward the sea.

“Merritt!”

Thunder rolled. The roc’s grip on Merritt eased enough for her to draw a quick breath of the freezing air. Ylva swooped in front of the roc, katanas to the side, and threw her wings wide. Thunder growled again from within her.

The roc hesitated, and Ylva brought her wings together.

Lightning struck before Merritt heard the thunderclap. Then she was falling, the roc’s talons limply draped over her and its wings streaming behind as they tumbled. Merritt admired the way the feathers vibrated.

“Merritt, change!” Ylva screamed.

Change? What does she mean?

The water rushed up to meet them. Merritt pushed at the talons surrounding her but could not dislodge them, so she took the only form she could think of. Her limbs shrank and widened, and black and white skin grew over her body. Her lungs changed, and she inhaled through a blowhole on top of her head. The breath swelled her body just before the roc hit the water in an explosion of white spray.

Merritt plunged into the frozen sea but barely felt the cold through her blubber. She dove between the roc’s talons and swam down with powerful strokes of her tail. There was nothing breathless about being underwater. The air in her lungs would sustain her for hours.

Her head cleared as she swam deeper. Her clicks and whistles became echolocation that told her the roc was trying to reach the surface. She didn’t have to look; the sounds clearly depicted the roc’s scramble for the air.

It was tempting to stay down here, where juicy seals darted and played. There was so much to see. Instead, Merritt tipped her orca nose toward the surface and swam hard, bubbles streaming over her skin as she hurtled up. She broke the surface in an arc of sparkling bubbles and flicked her tail, showing off her strength.

“Merritt!” Ylva bellowed.

Merritt clicked and squealed in greeting, then plunged into the water again. She shot through the water like a torpedo and emerged at the water’s edge, then jumped again, soaring over the snow.

She landed as a human, stumbling when her boots hit the snow, and looked for Ylva.

The valkyrie was stalking across the snow, katanas drawn, wings wide, focused on her target.

The roc lay half in and half out of the water. Its talons and tail stirred in the small waves rippling to the rocky shore. Its limp wings sprawled on either side of it, and its eyes were glazed and stunned.

Merritt stepped forward. “Ylva, please.”

The valkyrie raised the katanas over the roc’s neck, and nausea rolled through Merritt. She broke into a jog. “Ylva⁠—”

The roc raised its head. Ylva tensed, but the giant eagle wobbled with weakness as it looked at the nest on the mountaintop. It opened its beak and emitted a sound far softer than an eagle’s screech that rose and fell like music.

Merritt stopped, clasping a hand to her chest.

Ylva turned to her, katanas at the ready. “You. You speak to animals.” Her face twisted. “What is it saying?”

Merritt had to clear the lump in her throat before she could speak. “He’s singing about his loneliness.”

Ylva’s hands trembled on the katanas.

Merritt edged nearer. “He’s singing about his lost mate. She had just laid eggs, and they dreamed about having a family, but she fell sick and died. In his grief, he abandoned the nest, and the eggs got cold and perished.”

The roc sang on, his voice full of sorrow and regret.

“He has been alone for centuries, hoping to find friendship, but all who come here are either prey or seeking to kill him.”

Ylva turned to the roc.

“Please, Ylva,” Merritt whispered. “Please don’t… No!”

Ylva raised the katanas. Merritt lunged forward as the valkyrie screamed a war cry. Ylva flung the katanas away with all her might. Their blades spun in matching arcs as they soared over the sea and plummeted into the water with a splash.

Ylva gasped, fists clenched by her sides. The roc fell silent and stared at her.

The valkyrie screamed again in anguish and rage, then fell to her knees, hands pressed into the snow.

“This is not who I am anymore.” She ground the words out between clenched teeth.

The roc rolled out of the water and sprawled beside Ylva, breathing hard. Merritt froze in shock.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” She bowed her head. “This is something Alecto would do, and she is no longer in command of my life.”

The roc raised his head and got onto his feet to tower over Ylva, half-sitting, half-standing, blotting out the sun. She stayed on her knees.

Merritt pulled her bow out with trembling hands. She didn’t want to shoot the magnificent creature.

The roc made a low sound, almost a purr, that shook the ground, then lowered its massive head and touched its beak to Ylva’s hair. Her shoulders sagged in fright, but the roc closed its eyes and pressed its head against her with astonishing gentleness.

Merritt lowered the bow.

No one moved for breathless seconds. Then Ylva raised her hand and caressed the savage curve of the roc’s beak. The valkyrie’s shoulders shook as she sobbed. The mighty bird settled before her, crooning, and allowed her to bury her face in his soft feathers.

After a moment, Ylva drew back, dragging her forearm across her face. She stood up, squared her shoulders, and took a shaky breath. The roc straightened and shook his wings, buffeting Merritt with turbulent air. He raised a wing and contentedly preened his feathers so they would dry.

Merritt put the bow away, edged up to Ylva, and laid a hand on the valkyrie’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

Ylva shook her off. “My honor isn’t worth taking his life.” She scowled at Merritt. “Do not speak of my weakness in Little Avalon, Leshbolg.”

Merritt smiled. “I see no weakness here.”

Ylva stared at her.

“We need to decide what we do next,” Merritt added. “We can’t go back to Valhalla. They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll hunt me anyway.” Ylva’s lips pursed. “They will wage war on the Eternity Throne if the queen tries to defend me.”

“They won’t stand a chance.”

“I know. It could be the end of my people.”

The roc straightened. Merritt yelped and shielded her face when he beat his enormous wings, producing a cloud of smoke and snow and nearly knocking her and Ylva to the ground. He lifted his head and shrieked, the wild cry raising goosebumps on Merritt’s skin.

Then he settled to the ground and extended a wing toward Merritt and Ylva. The tip touched the ground at Ylva’s feet.

“Wh-what is he doing?” Ylva stammered.

Merritt grinned. “He’s inviting you to ride.”

“Ride?” Ylva croaked. She brushed flight feathers as long as she was tall. “The legends speak of valkyries who fought from rocs’ backs. I thought they were just stories.”

“They weren’t. He remembers those days.”

Ylva’s breath hitched, and she stepped away. “No! No. I will not place him in more danger.”

Merritt grinned. “I have an idea.”

Ylva stared at her.

“A crazy one.”

Despite her red eyes, the valkyrie cracked a smile. “In my experience, those are the best kind.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The White Roc skimmed through the sky, creating a shadow on the sea big enough to swallow whales. Air sang between his feathers, and seeing the snowy coastline with Mistwood North far beyond and the misty Shoulders in the northern distance made Merritt’s heart soar as high as the giant eagle flew. Behind and beside them stretched the North Sea, rippling silver. Icebergs and small islands speckled its surface.

Merritt sat cross-legged on the roc’s broad shoulders. Muscles flexed beneath her as he beat his wings, but she had plenty of space to recline on the soft feathers.

Ylva raised her hand to the empty sheaths on her back and frowned, uncomfortable without her weapons.

“You were right,” Merritt called over the howling wind.

“About what?”

“Those katanas didn’t suit you.”

Ylva grunted. “They were useful, not to mention expensive. Even if merfolk find them, they’ll be useless to those airheads.”

“That’s now in your past.”

Ylva’s jaw tightened. “I hope that’s true.”

The clang of a bell seized Merritt’s attention. She scrambled to the base of the roc’s neck, hanging onto his feathers, and peered down at Valhalla. The roc circled the city, his shadow engulfing its houses and streets. Children screamed and fluttered. Their mothers shielded them with their wings as they raced for cover.

“You’ll have to use that smooth tongue, Leshbolg,” Ylva muttered.

A battle cry rose from the largest building in the city: a mead hall with shields and banners hanging from its low roof. The trapdoors sprang open, and dozens of valkyries soared into the air, war paint bright on their faces and shields held aloft. Their thundering wings carried them toward the roc, swords flashing.

“That’s my cue.” Merritt ran nimbly up the roc’s neck and stopped on its head. He hovered, wings thudding, as the valkyrie army approached.

Merritt stretched out her hands. “Stop!”

The valkyries kept coming.

Merritt filled her chest with air. “Stop in the name of the Eternity Queen!”

Queen Julia’s title halted the foremost valkyries. Swords still raised, they studied Merritt over their shields with glittering eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gunhilde flew between the roc and the army. “Why do you bring this destructive abomination to Valhalla? Do you wish to get us all killed?”

“We come in peace, Your Excellency.” Merritt bowed. “We will not harm anyone in Valhalla.”

“You cannot presume to control that beast.”

“You’re quite right; we can’t.” Merritt laughed. “But his good will doesn’t depend on our domination. He won’t hurt anyone unless you attack him.” She paused. “If you do, Your Excellency, he will destroy your city.”

The roc chirped and clacked his beak.

The color drained from the councilor’s face. She gestured at the other valkyries, who lowered their weapons.

“Your people are in no danger,” Merritt continued. “You have nothing to fear from us. We wish only to speak to the queen and complete Ylva’s quest.”

“Complete the quest!” Gunhilde scoffed.

Merritt gave her a sharp smile. “We must speak to the queen.”

Gunhilde’s eyes narrowed as though she wanted to refuse, but she dared not piss off a girl standing on the head of an eagle bigger than a house. She gestured at the valkyries again, and they swooped down to perch on the roofs surrounding the courtyard in front of the mead hall.

The roc landed, talons clicking on the icy ground. Merritt slithered down his neck and landed with a grunt. Ylva gracefully dismounted with a flutter of her wings.

Keeping one eye on the roc, Gunhilde growled, “If you think this will restore you⁠—”

“Silence, Gunhilde.” Another valkyrie exited the mead hall. “Allow the Hunted to speak.”

No one had to tell Merritt the newcomer was the queen of the valkyries. Her chain mail cloak jingled as it dragged over the salted ground behind her. The white fur trim on her armor suggested it was polar bear leather, and her hair was a mass of intricate braids with iron and lapis lazuli beads spilling beyond her hips. She carried a battleax with runes decorating its shaft. Her folded wings had gray flecks between the feathers, but the lines on her face made her formidable, not fragile.

“I am Tove, Queen of Valhalla,” she announced. “I wish to hear why you have brought the White Roc to my city.”

Merritt stepped back and gave Ylva an encouraging nod.

The disgraced valkyrie’s hands trembled as she stood in front of the roc. “I fulfilled my quest, Your Majesty. I ask for my official acceptance as a Hunter. As a true valkyrie.”

“You completed nothing!” Gunhilde thundered. “You did not kill the White Roc!”

“That wasn’t the quest,” Merritt intervened.

Everyone stared at her. Valkyries had gathered around the courtyard’s edges and on the rooftops, and Merritt felt the pressure of their communal gaze.

“Of course it was the quest!” Gunhilde bellowed.

“No, it wasn’t.” Merritt spread her hands. “Your words were, ‘If Ylva Blodamaekir brings the head of the White Roc to Valhalla, she will again be a valkyrie under our law.’”

The last vestiges of color drained from Gunhilde’s face, and tendons stood out on her neck.

“Well, here it is.” Merritt waved a hand at the giant bird. “The head of the White Roc. You didn’t say Ylva had to detach it from his body.”

“This is nonsense!” Gunhilde threw her hands up. “She did not kill the White Roc!”

“She brought you his head.” Merritt shrugged. “She brought the rest of him, too.”

“Your Majesty!” Gunhilde wheeled around. “Tell these fools that they are trying to circumvent valkyrie law!”

Queen Tove glared from Merritt to Ylva, then stared at the White Roc for several seconds. No one dared make a sound.

The wrinkles around Tove’s eyes deepened. Her lips twitched, then produced a broad smile. The queen threw her head back, clutched her belly, and laughed. Her cackle echoed across the courtyard.

Gunhilde’s jaw dropped. Other valkyries nudged each other and giggled as Tove guffawed.

“Merlin’s plantar’s warts!” Tove wiped tears from her eyes. “This is magnificent.”

“Your Majesty!” Gunhilde protested.

“Enough of that, Gunhilde.” Tove gestured sharply, silencing the councilor. “It is as Guardian Vale says. They fulfilled the quest you gave them.”

Gunhilde spluttered incoherently.

“Ylva Blodamaekir, killing the White Roc would have been easy compared to befriending the beast.” Tove’s eyes sparkled. “In bringing the roc back alive, you have proven that you are no Hunted. Hunters do not kill in cold blood. By sparing the roc’s life, you proved yourself a true Hunter.”

Ylva froze.

Tove raised her arms, commanding the crowd’s attention. “Hear me, valkyries! Hear me, all who reside in Valhalla! Ylva Blodamaekir is a valkyrie. All will respect her rights!”

Gunhilde gritted her teeth, but she couldn’t speak against her queen. She had to settle for directing a venomous glare at Ylva.

“Where are your blades, valkyrie?” Tove asked.

Ylva struggled to hide a smile. “I cast them away. They were not the weapons of a valkyrie but the weapons of an assassin.”

“I agree, but no valkyrie should go unarmed.” Tove turned. “Shieldmaiden! Bring out the Blade of the White Roc.”

A young valkyrie scurried into the mead hall and returned a few moments later carrying a sword and a shield. Merritt clasped her hands over her mouth, muffling an exclamation of delight, as Tove accepted them from the shieldmaiden and turned to Ylva.

“An ancient valkyrie prophecy says we carved the hilt of this blade from the bones of a White Roc. It has awaited the return of the roc riders ever since. You will not find its equal in lightness and balance.” Tove held out the short sword. “This is yours now, Ylva. Accept also a shield of Valhalla so that all will know you are a true valkyrie.”

Ylva accepted the sword and held it up in salute. The runes that covered its ornate hilt and the flat of its blade flashed and crackled. She accepted the shield, too: it was round and made of wood, with iron binding its edge, and it bore the rearing horse of Valhalla.

Ylva’s lower lip trembled. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Gunhilde was practically foaming at the mouth.

“You have a home among us now, Ylva Blodamaekir,” Tove added.

Ylva’s gaze wandered to the mead hall and the crowd on the rooftops, where curious children perched in their mothers’ laps. Her body relaxed, but she dragged her attention away from them.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but the Eternity Queen instructed me to go to Little Avalon. She tells me I will learn how to be a member of a normal society there.”

“I do not question the queen, nor will I compel you.” Tove inclined her head. “But you are always welcome here.”

“She is?” Gunhilde spluttered.

“She is the first roc rider in a thousand years, Gunhilde,” Tove snapped. “She is a valkyrie, and this is her home.”

The councilor shut her mouth.

“May your blade cleave all before you, Ylva Blodamaekir.” Tove turned to Merritt and inclined her head. “May the wind be at your back, Guardian Vale.”

Merritt bowed.

The queen stalked back to the mead hall, Gunhilde scurrying in her wake.

Merritt clapped Ylva on the shoulder. “You did it!”

“It seems I did.” Ylva tilted the shield, admiring it, then raised her dark eyes to Merritt’s. “I could not have done it alone. You have once again done me a tremendous service, Merritt Vale.”

“You’re wordy. ‘Thanks, Merritt,’ would have sufficed.”

A smile tugged Ylva’s lips. “Thanks, Merritt.”

“Let’s go home. I have a ton of shit to do for the Mendoza Dome’s opening.”

“Home.” Ylva cleared her throat. “Indeed.” She extended a hand to the White Roc, who pressed his beak against her fingers.

The bird gave a sorrowful chirp.

“I’m sorry.” Ylva caressed his beak. “But I’ll be back. I’ll visit you.”

“I’ll help you do that,” Merritt added.

“I know you will.” Ylva leaned her head against the roc’s beak. “I might not always be with you, but you’ll have a friend now.”

The roc turned one amber eye to gaze at her. Then he stepped back and opened his wings, eliciting screams from the rooftops and a flurry of steel as the valkyries drew their swords. The roc ignored them. He gave a wild scream and launched into the air. His wings generated enough wind to make Merritt stumble, and he soared across the rooftops, then vanished over the sea.

Ylva stared after him.

“Let’s go home, Ylva,” Merritt repeated.

Ylva sighed. “Yes. Let’s go home.”

The sword and shield proved logistically challenging. Though no one in the NYHQ batted an eye at the sight of a six-foot-tall winged woman carrying weapons, the nearest subway station was less forgiving.

The security guy at the entrance folded his arms. “No knives in the subway.”

“It’s not a knife,” Merritt pointed out. “It’s a sword.”

“No swords on the subway, then.”

Merritt sighed. “What if it’s sheathed?”

“It’s still a knife.”

“Sword,” Ylva corrected.

The security guy’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to carry a blade that size in this city.”

Ylva hid it behind her back.

“It’s, uh, it’s a prop!” Merritt raised a finger, delighted by her ingenious lie. “It’s a costume piece. For theater.”

“Go away, or I’ll call the cops.”

“Okay.” Merritt grabbed Ylva’s arm. “Bye!”

She dragged the valkyrie down the block, eliciting worried glances from passing humans.

“I shall go back and decapitate him,” Ylva declared. “We have every right to return to Little Avalon by way of his magic tunnel.”

“Ylva, no decapitating.” Merritt pulled out her phone. “We’ll call an Uber. It’ll be fine.”

“What is this ‘Uber’ you speak of?”

“A car.” Merritt grimaced. “Haven’t you ever taken an Uber? You’ve lived in this city for centuries.”

“I have had no need.” Ylva pointedly spread her wings.

“Oh. Right. We can’t fly back across the city in broad daylight, though. The humans will freak out.” Merritt steered her to a bench. “Try to be inconspicuous.”

Ylva sighed. “This was easier with the concealments Alecto gave us, but I cast those amulets into the sea when I saw what happened to Thomas.”

“You don’t have concealment magic anymore?”

“Not all of it. We had concealment before Alecto, but that magic is like the katanas. It is not who I am now.”

Merritt smiled. “I’m proud of you, Ylva.”

Ylva grunted, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

To Merritt’s relief, the Uber showed up a few minutes later. The surrounding humans were getting restless. She slid into the backseat first and talked fast as Ylva joined her.

“It’s only a costume. It’s not—” she began.

“Lady, I’ve had far worse back there,” the driver told her. “Unless you plan to use that thing to cut my head off, I couldn’t care less.”

Ylva carefully laid the sword on the floor. “No decapitating.”

“Fine.” The driver put the car in drive and pulled away.

Ylva gazed at the cars speeding by as they turned onto the interstate. “I always wondered what it was like inside one of these.”

The driver raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. Merritt planted her elbow in Ylva’s ribs, and the valkyrie fell silent.

Merritt dialed a number and clamped the phone to her ear. “Hey, Lee.”

“What’s up, Merritt?” Liam Miller answered with newlywed cheerfulness. “Glad you didn’t get eaten by a giant eagle or anything.”

“It’s a cool story, but I’ll tell you later. I’m on my way to Little Avalon with Ylva. The queen wants her to stay here, as we guessed she would.”

“Cool. You’re looking for an apartment for her?”

“Yeah. Is there any room in Stonehold One?”

“The same building as you? Hold on. Let me check.” Liam typed in the background. “That werewolf family is moving out tomorrow. They’ve built a nice home in the pocket dimension next to Esmerelda Park. The apartment is one floor down from yours.”

“That’s perfect.”

“There’s a snag, though. We scheduled a dwarven couple to move in after the Weres are out.”

Merritt bit her lip. “Wait, that’s on the second floor. Why do we have dwarves above ground? They usually hate it.”

“It was the only apartment we had open. Hold on a second.” Liam’s typing intensified. “Okay, there is one possibility. We have two elves sharing the basement in Stonehold Six. They’re fresh off the boat from Avalon, so they might make better roommates for Ylva. More empathetic.”

“Let’s move the elves into Stonehold One with Ylva,” Merritt suggested, “and the dwarves into the basement.”

“We have to assure the elves they’ll be safe with Ylva.”

“They’ll be safe.” Merritt glanced at the valkyrie. “She’s under vassalship to the queen. She can’t break Eternity Law.”

“Fantastic. Okay, let me call the elves. I’ll get back to you.”

Merritt hung up and immediately placed another call.

“Merritt! Hi! I’m so glad you’re not dead,” Owen gushed. “Wait, this is Merritt, right? It’s not a valkyrie who ate Merritt and found her phone?”

“Valkyries don’t eat people, Owen. I’m fine.”

“Thank Merlin for that. Where are you?”

“On my way home. Do you know if your uncle with the moving business is available today?”

Owen paused. “He mentioned he was having a quiet week.”

“Not anymore. I need him to move a werewolf family in the next...” Merritt lowered her phone to check the time. “Twenty minutes or so. Think he can handle that?”

Owen scoffed. “I’m insulted. He has a team of brownies. Of course he can handle that.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details. Liam’s calling me.” Merritt switched calls. “Hey, Lee. What did the elves say?”

“They’re delighted to move out of the basement,” Liam told her. “They want to get into Stonehold One right away, even if it means sharing with a homicidal valkyrie.”

“I’m not—” Ylva stopped. “All right, maybe I am.”

Merritt giggled. “Owen’s uncle can move them all right now. We’ll see you in a bit.”

The brownies were true to their word. The Uber dropped Ylva and Merritt outside their apartment building, and when they entered the courtyard, the brownies were pushing a last box through a portal in the wall.

“That’s it, Guardian Vale.” Owen’s uncle, a stout brownie with a thick yellow beard, slapped his hands clean. “Mom and Dad Werewolf and their twelve kids are safely in their new home. We’ll be helping them unpack if you need us.”

“You brownies are unmatched.” Merritt grinned. “Were they happy to move?”

“Are you kidding? They were over the moon!” The brownie stepped through the portal. “Couldn’t wait to get into their new home,” he shouted across the interdimensional static. “See ya.”

The portal snapped shut.

Ylva had been silent on the Uber ride, but she spoke up as Merritt led her into the lobby. “This is where you live?”

“It’s where you live now, too.”

A joyful yip came from above as they climbed the stairs. “Brace yourself,” Merritt warned.

Akila barreled down the stairs, her tail making happy windmills. She pounced on Merritt, claws slamming into her shoulders, and frantically licked her face with her soft tongue.

“Hey!” Merritt giggled, wrapping her arms around Akila. “Good girl.”

“You’re alive, then.” Damian clumped downstairs.

“You’re home?” Merritt asked.

“Time fluctuates between Earth and Avalon, remember? You’ve been gone for two days,” Damian snapped. “I spent them looking after this ungrateful beast.”

Akila dropped to all fours and rubbed against Merritt’s legs, arching her back like a cat.

“Thanks, Damian.” Merritt stroked Akila’s fur. “You’re too kind.”

“Kind? Kind? Do you think it was my choice to echinemon-sit for two days?” Damian growled.

“He’s being a drama queen.” Tess pushed past him and hugged Merritt. “We’re very glad you’re okay.”

“Hey! Party on the stairs! My favorite.” Tetra Dupont marched upstairs with a buzz of her wasp-like wings. “Who are we pushing down them?”

“No one!” Merritt, Tess, and Damian chorused.

“Why are we chilling on the stairs, then? That’s weird.” Tetra carried a tin can filled with nails. She grabbed a few, shoved them into her mouth, and crunched them.

Ylva stared in horror.

“It’s okay. You’ll get used to her,” Merritt assured her.

Tetra burped iron filings.

“Eventually,” Merritt added.

A handsome Sylthana Elf climbed the stairs behind Tetra and extended a hand when he reached Ylva. “Hello. I don’t believe anyone has introduced themselves. I am Antin, Tetra’s boyfriend.”

“I chew on his ears sometimes,” Tetra announced.

“No one needed to know that, Tetra,” Tess protested.

“You guys, let’s not do this on the stairs,” Merritt insisted. “I’m trying to get Ylva to her apartment.”

The merry crew climbed to the second floor and entered the apartment, which the brownies had thoroughly cleaned. Its layout was identical to Merritt’s, with the kitchen at the entrance and a hall leading to bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms beyond. Like all the Stonehold apartments, it was fully furnished.

“You’ll share the kitchen with a couple of elves,” Merritt explained as Ylva carefully laid her sword and shield on the kitchen table. “Do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to gut and spit a hare over a campfire.”

“You’ll need a crash course in that, then.”

“Says who?” Tetra shrugged. “I still don’t cook.” She ate more nails.

“Tetra, you’re not helping.” Tess pushed her aside. “We’re all here to help you, Ylva. Anything you need, knock on our door upstairs.”

“No, don’t.” Damian folded his arms.

“Shhh, you.” Merritt elbowed him.

Ylva wandered around the kitchen, trailing her fingertips over the shiny appliances. Akila followed her, sniffing her wings with great interest.

“Your echinemon is a pest,” Damian complained. “She howled at the front door half the night, wanting to go outside and look for you.”

“She howled at the door for twenty minutes,” Tess corrected. “Then I let her crawl into bed with me, and she was fine.”

Damian huffed. “As if it weren’t bad enough to have a murderer downstairs.”

“Damian!” Merritt protested.

“You’ll get used to it.” Tetra shrugged. “I hired her people, and I live next door.”

“I was once a murderer too,” Antin chimed in.

Ylva stared at them. “What?”

“You remember me hiring that Starlight Fae to kill my sister?” Tetra shrugged. “Val killed his ass.”

“Yes. Theodore. He died an honorable death.” Ylva frowned. “But you, elf. What do you mean?”

“I was a lieutenant in the Bluefire Army that rebelled against the Eternity Throne. I killed many people,” Antin told her.

“Yet you walk free in Little Avalon.”

“What can I say?” Antin smiled. “This is the home of second chances. You are welcome here, Ylva. You will find the people here more forgiving than you could ever have hoped for.”

“Let me show you around the apartment.” Merritt led Ylva down the hall and pushed open the first door on the left. “This is your room with its bathroom. It’s soundproof, so you don’t have to worry about disturbing your roomies.” She retrieved the TV remote and waved it. “This controls that screen over there. You can use it to watch news and stuff.”

“I have observed many targets looking at these ‘televisions.’ I know what they are,” Ylva grumbled.

“Cool.” Merritt tossed the remote on the bed. “Little Avalon has an account for people who need a little help to get on their feet. I’ll take you shopping for clothes and food this afternoon.”

Ylva rubbed her neck as they returned to the kitchen. “I truly don’t know how to use stoves.”

“You can start with the microwave,” Merritt suggested.

Ylva’s cheeks reddened. “I, ah, don’t know how to use that either.”

Merritt giggled.

“None of that.” Damian wagged a finger at her. “Dare I remind you about the incident with the fridge when you first got here?”

“Oh, shut up,” Merritt amiably ordered. “I was hot, okay?”

“Still are.” Tetra slapped her ass.

Ylva eyed it.

Tess grabbed the valkyrie’s arm. “We do not slap asses.”

“When it comes to functioning in society, an excellent rule of thumb is not to do anything Tetra does,” Merritt added.

Ylva tugged her arm away. “Noted.”

Antin put an arm around Tetra’s shoulders. “Except be ferociously loyal to your friends and always ready to help someone in need. In that, let Tetra be your role model.” He kissed her head.

Tetra melted against him, grinning.

“I’ll teach you how to use the microwave,” Tess offered.

“I will give you a tour of Little Avalon,” Tetra added.

Ylva looked from one face to the next, flabbergasted. “But...why?”

“Same reason why you brought Thomas here for healing even though you knew it could cost you your freedom.” Merritt smiled. “You’re in Little Avalon now. That makes you family.”

Ylva said nothing, her eyes wary.

Antin stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know it seems impossible, but it is not. I thought it was too good to be true when I came here. I thought it was a trick or a trap or that they would give up on me when they realized the extent of my mistakes, but they did not, Ylva. They became my family. They rallied around me and gave me a new life.” He squeezed her shoulder. “They will do the same for you.”

Ylva remained silent, but she raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes alight. For the first time, Merritt saw true hope in them.

CHAPTER SIX

The mixer churned on the countertop, swirling dark streaks through the buttercream. Merritt leaned over it, watching in fascination as the streaks softened and blended until the frosting was a uniform shade of bright blue. She switched off the mixer, unclipped the beater, and licked the frosting off it as she carried the bowl to the kitchen table.

Akila slept in her fluffy bed, nose resting on her tail to form a perfect circle. She’d spent three hours running around Esmerelda Park that afternoon while Merritt supervised the first few sessions in the Mendoza Dome, and it showed. Normally, Akila would not stay in her bed for long.

“Thanks for the peace and quiet, little girl.” Merritt sat and surveyed the pound cake with cookies-and-cream filling on the icing turntable. She’d already applied a layer of white buttercream. She frowned. The tutorial she’d watched online made it look easy to smooth the frosting, but Merritt’s still showed knife marks.

Damian shuffled into the kitchen with a bad case of bedhead. His dark hair stood up like a peacock’s tail at the back.

“Evenin’,” he mumbled, the syllables swallowed in a yawn.

“Hey. Sleep well?” Merritt asked.

The nocturnal vampire stumbled to the coffee machine. “Still getting my rhythm back after that stupid daytime sting.”

“Can’t relate.” Merritt dipped the knife in a cup of boiling water and ran it over the buttercream. “This is still too rough. I can’t get it right.”

“What are you making?” Damian asked.

“It’s not for you.”

Damian pouted.

“I made cupcakes for you. I’ll ice them later, though. They’re still cooling.” Merritt waved the knife. “This is supposed to be for Val, but it’s my first time icing a cake with anything other than ganache or a glaze, and I’m not doing it right.”

Damian rubbed his eyes. “Looks fine to me. What’s the blue for?”

“Piping.” Merritt gestured at the brand-new piping bags lying on the table beside her. “Which point do you think would look cutest?” She held up two of them.

“They look identical to me.”

“You’re no good.” Merritt selected one and set it aside.

Damian poured two cups of coffee. “What made you decide to try a fancy cake?”

“Liam and Qenzi’s cake at the wedding. Those blue buttercream roses were phenomenal.” Merritt cut off the corner of a piping bag and slipped the coupler inside, then screwed on the tip. “I’ve gotten comfortable with making pastries. Sure, the emerald pastry was a challenge, but most of the time, they are easy now. I’m ready to try something new.”

“Only a few months into pastries and you’re already bored with them. That’s how you know you’re talented.”

“Was that a backhanded compliment or a veiled one?” Merritt asked, accepting a coffee cup from him.

“Both.” Damian sat opposite her. “Well, go on. Put the blue stuff on the cake.”

Merritt filled the piping bag with the blue frosting. “Having an audience isn’t making me nervous at all.”

“It’s fun to watch.” Damian shrugged.

“Two compliments in one evening? Careful, Damian. You might run out.”

The vampire rolled his eyes.

Merritt leaned over the cake and carefully squeezed the piping bag. Delicate blue ruffles spilled out from the piping tip, and Merritt slowly moved the bag over the cake as though drawing. She lifted the bag at the end of the curve and accidentally dripped blue icing on the side. “Shit!”

“‘Welcome,’” Damian read. “In cursive, too. Nice.”

Merritt used the tip of a blunt knife to lift the stray icing off, but it left a stain. “Crap.”

The front door swung open. Akila lifted her head and chirped a greeting as Tess swept inside, laden with a laptop bag, a briefcase, and a small wooden chest with a gold padlock on the front.

“Hello, everybody. Mind if I put this here?” Tess slammed the chest down on the table, which made the turntable wobble. “Oh, shit, sorry. This thing is heavier than it looks.”

“What’s in it?” Merritt asked.

“A bunch of weird crap we found at an archaeological site near Misvyn. We’re hoping it might establish more connections between Sylthana Elves and Lunar Fae, but I have to take it to the Royal University for the Sylthana history professor to look at.” Tess wiped her forehead.

“Good day out with the High Magic Division?” Damian guessed.

“Always is. Oooh, what are you making?” Tess asked.

Merritt groaned. “Mistakes, mostly.”

“She’s icing a cake. There are cupcakes for us,” Damian informed her.

“Your first time, huh?” Tess dumped the laptop bag and briefcase on the nearest counter. “I don’t see any mistakes. It looks fine to me.”

“There’s a blue spot there.” Merritt pointed.

“Oh, I see. Put a flower on it,” Tess suggested.

Merritt paused. “I was going to try flowers. That’s a good idea.” She propped her phone against a bag of powdered sugar and started the buttercream rose tutorial she’d watched earlier.

Tess and Damian argued about whose turn it was to clean the fridge while Merritt focused on the tutorial. After changing the piping tip to a flatter one, she stuck a piece of parchment paper on a flower nail, which was a flat plastic disc with a handle, and picked out the right piping tip.

The first time she tried squeezing the frosting onto the parchment paper, it smudged. Merritt hissed in annoyance, threw it away, and tried again.

“You can do it,” Tess encouraged.

“Shhh. She’s wearing her concentrating face. You’re not helping,” Damian chided.

“I’m only—” Tess began.

Damian prodded her. “Shhh!”

Merritt tucked her tongue between her teeth, concentrated, and carefully piped the center of the buttercream rose by turning the flower nail as she squeezed the piping bag.

“That looks good,” Tess whispered.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Whispering doesn’t help.”

“Okay, time for the petals.” Merritt realized she was sweating.

Tess and Damian silently watched as she piped overlapping petals on the outside of the flower. In the third row, she arched each petal to make the rose look like it was unfurling.

Her arms were strong from kneading, and this was delicate work. She had to stop and shake out her hands before she could pipe the final row, tilting the tip as she worked so the petals unfolded like a real rose.

“What do we think?” she asked, holding up the flower nail.

“I think it’s magical,” Tess declared.

Merritt laughed. “There’s no magic here. I’ll get better with practice.” She used scissors to pry the rose off the flower nail and applied it to the stained spot on the cake. “Now to do half a dozen more.”

“That sounds like a ton of work.” Damian downed his coffee. “I’m hitting the shower.”

“I’m making dinner. Mushroom pasta, Merritt?” Tess suggested.

“Sounds great, but I’ll eat when I get back. I want to take this to Val’s house before it gets too late. I’m sure she wants to go to bed early after a week in the Hills.” Merritt changed the piping tip and returned to the words on the top of the cake.

Tess poured dry pasta into a pot of boiling water several minutes later. “How’s Ylva today?”

“Much better since you helped her buy those microwaveable meals. Cooking is still beyond her, but I put a sticky note on the microwave with instructions for the buttons.” Merritt finished the lowercase l of Val. “She’s figuring it out. It’s a lot.”

“I can’t believe she lived her whole life in hiding. It must be weird, living in New York City but never learning how to use a microwave.”

“I’m not worried about her learning basic life skills.” Merritt cut a new piece of parchment paper for the flower nail. “I’m worried that she’ll be lonely.”

Tess turned down the heat. “That’s up to her.”

Merritt propped her elbows on the table and piped another rose. “Yeah, it is. At least she hasn’t caused any trouble.”

“So far,” Tess grumbled.

Merritt raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Tess rubbed her neck. “It’s not our first time giving somebody a second chance in Little Avalon. I can’t stop thinking about how beaten up you were when Damian rescued you from that parking garage, which was her doing. I didn’t know you had the male form then. I thought she’d thrown you around like you are now. You seem…well, more fragile in this form.”

“I don’t blame you.” Merritt smiled. “But you’ll forgive her.”

“I will?”

“Of course you will. You’re Tess Mendoza.” Merritt added the rose to the cake. “You have the purest heart I know.”

Tess placed a lid on the pot. “You have a way of bringing that out in people.”

By the time Tess had made the creamy mushroom sauce for the pasta, Merritt had trailed roses down one side in two shades of blue. She slowly spun the turntable, internally wincing at the knife marks and the crooked petals on several roses.

“Don’t look at it like that.” Tess turned the burner off. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s technically flawed, but it’s okay for a first attempt.” Merritt carefully transferred the cake on its cardboard cake circle from the turntable to a stand. “Val will love it, though.” She touched up the bottom where the movement had disturbed the frosting.

Tess snorted. “That’s the truth. If there’s sugar in it, you can bet she will.”

“See you later.” Merritt lifted the cake stand and smooched to Akila, who scrambled out of her bed and flung herself against the door.

“Akila! Stop it.” Merritt clutched the cake stand, desperate not to drop anything. “Get out of the way so I can open the door!”

Akila bared her teeth and scratched the door, adding to the claw marks already there.

“Akila, shoo.” Merritt gently shoved her out of the way with her calf and swung the door open. Akila barreled past her, bumping into her legs, and thundered down the stairs like a stampede of wild bonnacons.

“You have terrible manners,” Merritt yelled after her.

Akila yipped from the entry hall.

Merritt silently apologized to the neighbors since the echinemon continued to yip until she reached her and let her into the street. She normally leashed Akila if they stepped outside, but this time, she just spoke the magic words. “Let’s go see Shadow!”

Akila chirped in delight and bolted down the sidewalk, making a beeline for the house next door. Shadow stood by the open garage door, tail wagging. He dropped into a play bow as Akila reached him. The echinemon collided with him at full speed, and they tumbled over each other, growling and snapping.

Merritt avoided the happy whirlwind of fur and strode across the garage. Genevieve wagged her back wiper in recognition. Punk rock thudded from Tetra’s apartment above the garage but couldn’t drown out the voices ringing through the open back door. Val and Niall were home.

She knocked on the doorframe and edged into the living room. “Hey! It’s me.”

“I don’t think a single Were on the planet has ever had a handfasting.” Niall’s tone was hard and tight. “Why would you think that’s what I want?”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Val demanded. “I’m an Iron Dwarf, Niall. That’s what we do.”

“All I’m saying is that wrapping our hands together with living iron isn’t something I can be a part of. I don’t have that magic!”

“I can do it for both of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

Merritt followed the argument into the kitchen. Val and Niall faced each other across the table. Val’s folded arms bulged from her sleeveless gym shirt. Niall wore fluffy bunny slippers and a robe with a red-and-white heart pattern.

“I want to be a part of whatever we do too,” he protested. “I know you value Iron Dwarven traditions, but I’m not an Iron Dwarf.”

“Hey.” Merritt stepped forward. “I brought cake.”

The tension instantly dissipated. Niall pulled out a chair and Val whipped around, beaming. “Cake!”

“Hi, Merritt.” Niall sat, looking exhausted.

“Ooh, it’s beautiful.” Val took the cake. “It says ‘Welcome home, Val.’ Look, honey.”

Niall obediently looked. “That’s gorgeous! I haven’t seen you make anything like that before.”

“It’s my first try. That’s why the roses are wonky.” Merritt found a knife in a nearby drawer. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, it’s okay.” Val set the cake on the table. “We needed interrupting.”

“We did.” Niall extended a hand.

Val sat beside him and interlaced her fingers with his. “We were being ridiculous.”

“We both have strong opinions, that’s all. We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will agree on something.”

The atmosphere got tense again. “You will. I’ll help.” Merritt cut the cake. “Tell me what you think of the filling.”

The tension left Val’s shoulders when she tasted the cake, which made her groan in ecstasy.

“Cookies and cream?” Niall guessed. He had filling on his upper lip.

“That’s right. Is it good?” Merritt asked.

“It’s perfection,” Val moaned.

Merritt laughed. “You’re very rewarding to bake for, Val.”

“You could have used more, but the flavors are incredible.” Niall waved his fork. “I love it.”

“Constructive criticism. Always helpful. Thank you.” Merritt pointed at the roses. “What about those?”

“They’re perfect,” Val declared.

“I mean, they’re great for your first try. Like you said, they’re a bit lopsided, but I love how you arranged the colors,” Niall told her. “You have an artistic eye, as always.”

“Who are you, Paul Hollywood?” Val inquired.

Merritt tried not to laugh at the mental image of Duchess Eiravel Stonehold, the heroine of the realm, watching The Great British Bake-Off.

“I’ve watched enough of that show that I basically am, yes,” Niall teased.

“Oh, shut up.” Val giggled. “Merritt, the cake is great. You should get Agnes to teach you more.”

“Agnes is a pastry chef. I don’t think cake decorating is her forte,” Merritt admitted, “but I’ll ask her. Maybe she has connections so I can get icing lessons.”

“Good idea.” Niall tasted a buttercream rose.

“Any news on the investigation into the second Fury?” Merritt asked.

Val scowled. “Unfortunately, no. It’s still the same situation as last week. Every time Liam or the OPMA picks up a dark magic surge in the city, they dispatch a Special Forces team, and every time, the team gets there a moment too late. She doesn’t stay in one place long enough for us to catch her.”

“Where do these dark magic surges happen?” Merritt wiped crumbs off the table.

“We’ve detected them in every borough. Liam’s trying to establish a pattern, but so far, no luck.” Val hesitated. “They found something at a surge site today, though. Something you might want to see.”

Her tone made Merritt’s stomach drop. “What is it?”

Val scooped her phone from the table’s corner and swiped on it. “Here.”

Merritt took the device and stared at the screen. The photo showed a tattered scrap of paper, its curled edges half-burned. The sketch it bore was still identifiable. Her heart stuttered. “It’s another picture of my amulet.”

“They found it in a heap of stuff the Fury tried to destroy with balefire. They’re still working on identifying the other things, but it looked like a bunch of old books,” Val explained. “Seems the Fury is researching something.”

“Not ‘something.’” Merritt returned the phone. “My amulet.”

“We don’t know why she wants it. Maybe it’s a Leshbolg weapon we could use against her,” Niall suggested.

Merritt hugged herself. “Maybe, but we don’t know. We don’t know anything about the stupid thing.”

“Hey, take it easy.” Val touched her arm. “You’ve been trying. We’ll figure it out.”

“That’s the problem. I have been trying, but no one can tell me anything about the amulet.”

Val bit the inside of her lip, thinking. “Have you tried the Royal University?”

Merritt frowned. “The one on Staten Island? Do you think someone there will know what it is?”

“Professor Eldrim Frostquill teaches dwarven history there, but he knows everything about everything.” Val shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. Maybe you could swing by tomorrow.”

Merritt brightened. “Thanks, Val. I have a lesson with Agnes after work, but I’ll see the professor as soon as possible.”

“You do that. Take the amulet with you.” Val’s eyes narrowed. “The more we know about stopping this Fury, the sooner we can get her out of my city.”

Merritt had to concentrate to keep her arms from shaking with fatigue. She squinted with tired eyes as she dipped a custard-filled pastry puff into the lukewarm caramel in the pot by her elbow. Biting her tongue to focus, Merritt cautiously edged the puff into place on top of the tower on Agnes' kitchen table.

“Almost there, kid,” Agnes encouraged. She sat at the table’s head, sore hands wrapped around a mug of hot cappuccino. “Almost there.”

“Last one.” Merritt reached for the final pastry puff, holding it gently to avoid collapsing the fragile choux. Crickets chirped outside, and Agnes had drawn the room’s curtains, but the overhead light shimmered on the caramel as Merritt lifted the last puff onto the apex of the construction paper cone she’d built. The tower of puffs completely covered the cone, making it look like she’d built the whole thing with pastries.

“Last step,” Agnes instructed. “Warm your caramel a bit more first, then grab a fork.”

Merritt popped the pot back on the stove for a few moments while she pawed through the drawers for a fork.

“The key is to get the caramel as thin as possible. Then quickly swirl it over the whole thing, or you’ll end up with blobs instead of a crunchy web.” Agnes leaned forward, gripping the mug. “Go on. Give it your best shot.”

Merritt held her breath as she dragged the fork through the hot caramel and moved it quickly over the tower, sending delicate strands of the sticky substance over the puffs. After she’d repeated that a few times, the caramel glistened all over the tower, holding it together in a fine pattern.

She stepped back. “How’s that?”

Agnes’ eyes gleamed. The Copper Dwarf slid off her chair, using its steps to get down, and peered up at the tower. “It’s glorious. You did it, kid.” Her gnarled hand gripped Merritt’s arm. “You made your first successful croquembouche.”

Merritt grinned. “Look at it! It’s awesome.”

“It sure is. Took you long enough.”

Merritt glanced at the kitchen clock. “Six hours.”

“That’s how long it takes. Not many people have it in them to make one of these.” Agnes beamed. “Well done, kid. Well done.”

Those were words Agnes did not speak often, and they made Merritt stand taller.

“Take pictures of it and make me another cappuccino,” Agnes ordered. “This one’s gone cold.”

“Another cappuccino? It’s eight PM.”

“Do as I tell you,” Agnes grumbled, climbing back into her chair.

Merritt put the kettle on and opened one of the instant cappuccino packets Agnes kept around the kitchen. “I’m so proud.”

“For once, you have a right to be. That thing is a triumph. A crowning achievement.”

“No, not of the croquembouche. That too. I’m also proud of Akila. Look at her. She’s being fantastic.”

Akila was curled up like a big silver shrimp on a blanket by the oven, enjoying its warmth. The echinemon looked innocent, the tip of her tongue protruding between her bewhiskered lips.

“Fantastic? Looks fast asleep to me,” Agnes grumbled.

“She’s being the best girl. Thanks for letting me bring her along. I feel so sorry for her when she’s cooped up in the apartment.” Merritt fixed two cappuccinos after the water boiled. She’d need the caffeine to stay awake on the subway.

“Doesn’t seem any less cooped up in my kitchen than she would be at home, but whatever floats your boat.” Agnes took a mug. “Thank you. Are we going to taste your croquembouche or just stare at it like a pair of idiots?”

“It was so much work to assemble.” Merritt laughed. “It seems like sacrilege to break it down.”

“Nonsense, stupid girl. Letting a magnificent piece of pastry get stale would be sacrilege. Take a picture, then give me one of those puffs.”

Merritt took a dozen pictures from various angles and posted three on her socials with many excited emojis and a Taylor Swift song lyric for the caption before she finally served the impatient dwarf a couple of puffs from the top of the tower. As sad as it was to take pieces off the magnificent edifice, Merritt wasn’t sorry. The pastry and caramel crunched delightfully in her mouth, then flooded her tongue with creamy custard.

“Merlin’s glorious curly back hair,” she groaned. “This is amazing.”

“Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.” Agnes held out her plate. “Grab me another couple of puffs, would you?”

“Sure.” Merritt reached up.

Agnes was uncharacteristically quiet as she munched and stared into her coffee.

“You okay?” Merritt asked.

“Yes, well.” Agnes cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to say this.”

Merritt winced. “Are they that bad?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that this is an excellent croquembouche. It’s just...” Agnes paused. “You’ve come a long way, kid. You’ve stayed dedicated, paid attention in our lessons, and worked hard at home. This thing?” She gestured at the caramel-covered tower. “This is one of the most difficult pastry desserts you can make, and you did a wonderful job.”

“I have an amazing teacher.” Merritt smiled.

Agnes huffed. “A teacher who doesn’t know what to show you next.”

“You still have plenty of work to do with refining my technique. No pastry chef is born in three months, no matter how talented.”

“No, but I think you’ll be looking for a new challenge.”

Merritt grinned. “I’ve already found one.” She pulled out her phone and showed Agnes the picture of Val’s welcome home cake. “First attempt, but this is what I want to do next.”

Agnes raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Looks like a middle-schooler piped those roses.”

“I know, I know.” Merritt laughed. “It was my first try, okay? Could you teach me more?”

“Hmph. No.” Agnes snorted. “I’m a pastry chef, not a novelty cake baker.”

“I presumed that was the case. No worries.” Merritt stowed her phone. “I’ll find somebody.”

“Actually...” Agnes rubbed her clean-shaven chin. “I know someone who could help you.”

“Who?”

“An old, uh…” Agnes cleared her throat. “An old friend.”

“Old friend?”

“Yes, an old friend. I once had friends.” Agnes rolled her eyes. “He’s a master cake decorator, or was in his day. Where’s my tablet?”

Merritt found it on the counter where Agnes had left it ten minutes ago. “Here it is.”

“Thanks.” Agnes poked around on the screen. “Here we are. Look at these.”

Merritt leaned over her shoulder and gasped as the dwarf swiped through videos on the paranet. A dragon grinned beside a birthday cake shaped like a rocket ship, real flames roaring from the exhausts at the bottom.

Two elves in wedding clothes cut a tiered white cake with beautiful buttercream patterns and roses etched on every tier, only for dozens of butterflies to burst from the cake’s interior and swoop over the heads of the awestruck guests.

The next video depicted a triple chocolate cake shaped like a castle with a continuous ganache fountain pouring from the round towers to fill the moat around its edges with molten chocolate.

“Merlin’s wings.” Merritt gaped. “These are amazing.”

“Marcurio’s always been good at this sort of thing.” Agnes peered at the videos through her reading glasses. “He’s an old fool. Not real good at baking. Not like a pastry chef. But if you want somebody to teach you this shit, he’s the one.”

“Would you ask him if he’ll teach me?” Merritt asked.

Agnes scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re old friends?”

“Oh, no. I’m not talking to him,” Agnes grouched. “You’ll be better off messaging him through his Parabook page.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Send him a message.”

Merritt shrugged. “Okay.” Maybe Marcurio would tell her the story. She opened Parabook and searched for Marcurio Fauntleroy, which Agnes had to spell for her. The face on the profile pic seemed familiar, but Merritt couldn’t place him as she typed a message.

“Look at that,” Agnes grumbled. “One of those wall lizards is on the counter again. Must be after the heat of the oven. They usually stay outside.”

Merritt froze. “Did you say ‘lizard?’”

“Yes, I did. Why the horror?”

Merritt spun and spotted the lizard clinging to the backsplash above the kitchen counter on the other side of the room.

“Easy, Akila,” she rasped. It was too late. Akila’s low growl rumbled through the kitchen as she rose from the blanket. Her hackles stood up, and her blue eyes were like two coals of Sylthana fire.

“What’s up with her?”

Akila crouched, eyes fixed on the oblivious lizard. The croquembouche towered between them.

The echinemon gathered herself.

“Akila, no!” Merritt lunged. She reached for the echinemon’s pink collar, but her fingers swiped through her stiff hackles instead. Akila clambered over the kitchen table with a roar of fury.

“Nooooooo!” Agnes shrieked.

Akila’s shoulder slammed into the croquembouche.

“Noooooo!” Merritt wailed.

It happened in slow motion, a graceful dance of shattering china and tumbling pastry puffs. The cake stand tilted. The topmost puffs fell, ribbons of caramel trailing from them. They bounced across the table and burst, splattering pastry cream like brains across the wood. Merritt stretched out her arms to catch some, but it was hopeless.

The stand rolled off the table and shattered on the floor, ruining the remaining puffs. Akila landed on the kitchen counter, roared, and scratched the walls as the lizard whisked beneath a curtain and vanished.

“My croquembouche!” Merritt moaned.

Akila snarled and chewed the windowsill. Merritt thrust her hands into her hair, trying not to be dramatic, but genuine dismay stung her. It had been so beautiful. Now it was just china shards and custard and squashed pastry on the kitchen floor. A mess, not a work of art.

“Get down!” Agnes thundered.

Her yell must once have rallied countless line chefs into order. Akila instantly dropped to the floor, tail between her legs.

“Oh, Akila, what did you do?” Merritt stared at the former croquembouche.

“Look at this mess!” Agness hopped off her chair and marched over to Merritt. “Ruined!”

“It was so pretty.” Merritt fought the absurd lump in her throat.

“Pretty? Pretty? It was magnificent. It took you most of the day to make!” Agnes waved her arms.

Merritt swallowed. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up.” She stumbled to the broom closet.

Akila inched nearer and tried to lick the cream off the floor.

“Go away!” Agnes bellowed.

Akila slunk to her blanket, ears back.

“It’s okay, girl.” Merritt rubbed her eyes.

“It’s not okay.” Agnes planted her hands on her hips. “Look at you. You’re heartbroken.”

“It was an accident.”

“Maybe, but don’t bring that animal here again.”

Akila’s ears still drooped an hour later when Merritt scrubbed the last bits of sticky caramel off the floor. She whimpered as Merritt led her out of Agnes’ house and headed toward the subway station in the dark.

“It’s okay, little girl.” Merritt rubbed her head. “You didn’t mean to destroy it.”

Akila whined and butted her nose into Merritt’s palm.

“You’re doing your best. I know.” Merritt sighed. “We need to figure out how to get you over this thing with lizards, though.”

Akila yipped and waved her long tail.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Merritt grumbled, but she couldn’t help smiling as the playful echinemon chased moths and lightning bugs as far as her leash allowed all the way to the station.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Merritt straightened the quiver’s strap on her shoulder. She kept a firm grip on Akila’s leash with her free hand as she strode toward Esmerelda Park, arrows rattling. “You need to burn off all the energy you’ve got tonight. I’m not taking you to the Royal University to talk to Professor Frostquill.”

Akila whined.

“No, I’m not. That seems like a recipe for disaster after what happened earlier.”

Akila growled.

“It’s not up for debate. If you run through a history professor’s office like you… Merlin’s cotton socks!” Merritt jumped. Several tree roots surged through the sidewalk and curled around her feet, sprouting thorns.

“Sorry.” Ylva spoke from the shadows between two apartment buildings. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Merritt put a hand on her chest, heart thundering. “Maybe try not lurking in the shadows with a sword in your hand, then.”

Ylva sheepishly dropped the short sword into its scabbard with a hiss of metal. “I don’t know where else to, uh…” She paused. “To train my skills.” Embarrassment glowed pink on her cheeks.

Merritt smiled. “Feels awkward? Like it’s not really yours?”

“How did you know?”

“My Leshbolg powers feel the same sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a Leshbolg.” Merritt spread her hands. “You might not be comfortable with the sword and shield, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a valkyrie.”

Ylva’s eyes narrowed. “You read minds too?”

“No. Just empathize. Come with me.” Merritt continued walking. “I’ll show you somewhere you can train without giving innocent passersby heart attacks.”

The valkyrie followed as Merritt strode down Pendragon Street and took Chester Way into the pocket dimension that held much of Esmerelda Park. The human-repellent ward tickled her skin as they passed through it.

Ylva stayed close as they crunched across the gravel parking lot. “This is the place where you summoned me when you thought you could trap a Boilblood.”

“Silly of us.”

“Infinitely. Is this the duchess’ land?”

Merritt rubbed her chin. “Technically, yes, but it’s public property.”

Ylva stared at her.

“Anyone can come here whenever they like,” Merritt explained.

“Truly?” Ylva blinked as they walked past the vegetable patches, where still-green tomatoes swelled on their stalks and potatoes bulged under the dark soil. “What about all this food?”

“It’s for families who need a little support. The grocery baskets we deliver to your house? Most of that produce comes from this park and garden.”

“Anyone could come in and take what they want.”

“That’s the point.” Merritt smiled. “Anyone could. An elf monitors what our residents need and deals with anybody who takes advantage, but for the most part, it works well.”

“What of the rest of this place?” Ylva gestured at the rolling hills topped with Avalonian stars.

“Anyone can come here and enjoy it whenever they want. That’s how parks work.”

“Fascinating.”

“You’ve seen dozens of parks in your life. How come you don’t know that?”

Ylva gazed at the tall trees that swallowed the path as they passed the first hill. “I have sneaked into dozens of parks to observe or dispatch my targets. How was I to know what they were for? I was never a part of society. I only watched from the sidelines.”

Merritt nudged her. “You’re part of it now.”

Ylva didn’t smile. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“Not yet, but you’ll get there.” Merritt pushed through the bushes. “This way.”

“I know. I fought you here, remember?” Ylva grunted as they shoved through the thick undergrowth. “I nearly killed your vampire friend.”

“Damian’s not over it, but I am. To be fair, we attacked you.” Merritt paused at the clearing’s edge and closed her eyes, enjoying the moonlight, the smell of crushed grass, and the magic coursing through the trees and throbbing in every blade of grass. She wanted to fall down and roll on its richness, but she knelt and put her hands on the ground instead.

“You draw your magic from plants,” Ylva observed. “Was that why you could not turn into the tree-man at Islandseyja?”

“Exactly. I was amazed that I could still shapeshift. My powers are growing.” Is that a good thing? Merritt wondered. Are my powers tied to the amulet the Furies want? Is there darkness in them? She pushed the idea away. It was crazy. Right?

Akila yipped and lunged to the end of her leash. Merritt unclipped it, allowing the echinemon to charge across the clearing to meet Shadow. They slammed into each other, and Shadow fell to the ground, jaws wide, deadly teeth far apart as Akila gnawed on his neck and clawed his belly.

“They’ll do that all night.” Merritt stood. “I’m practicing my male form tonight. We can spar if you like.”

“Spar!” Ylva snorted. “I am as weak as a newborn with this blade. You would crush me. I must go through drills first.”

“Drills?”

“We did them on the island with our katanas. I’ll figure something out with the short sword.”

“Have you looked on the paranet?” Merritt asked. “There are video tutorials for basically anything except necromancy. The mods obviously remove that evil shit.”

Ylva rolled her eyes. “As if one could learn to wield a blade from a screen.”

Merritt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She moved away from the clearing’s edge, making room for her male form. Before she could change, something stirred the plant magic that surrounded her. Leaves trembled and grass straightened in the presence of tremendous power.

“So this is where my dog goes every night,” someone rumbled from the shadows.

Merritt whipped around. “Val!”

Shadow abandoned Akila and raced to his owner’s side, panting with joy. He jumped up on Val, making even her mighty frame rock back, and covered her face with slobbery kisses.

Val laughed. “Shadow! Down, dude. I saw you half an hour ago.”

Shadow plopped to the ground and rolled over for tummy rubs.

Ylva sheathed her short sword and bowed. “Your Excellency, I-I can explain.”

“What’s to explain?” Val scratched Shadow’s belly with the sole of her hobnailed boot. “Looks to me like you two are out here training where no one can see you.”

Merritt’s face was on fire. “Val, um, it’s⁠—”

“It’s a crime.”

Merritt’s stomach dropped. “It is?”

“Not you.” Val waved a hand. “Her.”

Ylva gulped. “Your Excellency, I’ll make it right.”

“You certainly will, valkyrie. No one in the world should hold a shield like that.” Val stomped toward Ylva, who cringed until the duchess grabbed her shield’s edge and shifted her fingers, correcting her grip. “You’re trying to hold that short sword like a katana, too. It’s a crime against the smith who forged that lovely blade.”

“Wh-what?” Ylva managed.

“Draw your sword.” Val nodded at it. “I’ll help you train.”

Ylva slowly obeyed. “Why would you do that?”

Val laughed. “You’re a badass warrior, Ylva. With dark magic surges in the city, we need as many of those as we can get…if you’re willing to fight at my side.”

Ylva’s eyes gleamed. “It would be my honor, Your Excellency.”

“It’s ‘Your Grace’ since you technically work for me. ‘Val’ is fine. I only make the bigwigs use the fancy titles. Hold up your blade, girl. No, not like that. Elbow down.”

Merritt left them to it and took her male form. He lumbered across the clearing, his movements almost weightless for someone so massive. He extended an arm, waking the latent magic of the tree roots below the ground.

One burst from the soil a few yards away and swelled into a trunk a couple of inches in diameter. Merritt plucked it out of the ground in a spray of splinters, then wielded it like a quarterstaff against a straw dummy Damian had set up. The dummy exploded in a shower of stems and sackcloth.

“Merlin’s beard, Merritt. No wonder you always seem so patient and sunny,” Val called. “You vent your rage out here every evening.”

Merritt turned to her, his bark-like lips curling into a grin. “Like my new trick?”

“It’s badass, I’ll grant you, but what about your bow? I bet you could shoot arrows the size of broadswords in that form.”

“I can’t hold my bow in this form,” Merritt rumbled. “I tried once and nearly snapped it in half.”

Behind Val, Ylva ran through a series of guards and strikes. Her wings fluttered for balance as she held the shield up to her nose and swung the short sword. Each strike was more graceful and effortless than the last.

“Watch your footwork, Ylva,” Val ordered. “Man, if I had a dollar for every time Diego’s said that to me in the MMA ring, I’d be a rich woman.”

“You are a rich woman,” Merritt pointed out.

Val waved a hand. “Whatever. You know what you need, Merritt?”

“What?”

Val grinned. “A bow that shifts shape when you do.”

“Shadow said the same thing,” Merritt confessed.

Val scowled. “Shadow doesn’t say anything except to me. Let me see your bow again.”

Merritt shrank to female form and handed the bow to Val.

The duchess ran her palms over the supple yew and whistled. “I gotta hand it to your bowyer. He knows what he’s doing. You said it was a Mavka kid in Wolf Glen?”

“Fedir.” Merritt smiled fondly. “I miss him. He’s cool.”

“He should be making bows for the Eternity Throne with this talent.” Val paused. “Listen, I can make this bow shift into something strong enough for you to wield in your male form, but I get it if you don’t want to alter what Fedir made.”

“Fedir made this bow to help me be safe and do what I need to do. Your adjustments will help me achieve that.” Merritt inclined her head. “Go right ahead, Val. Whatever you want to do. I trust you.”

Val grinned. “You won’t regret it.”

Ylva swung the sword and accidentally hit the shield with a clang.

Val turned back to her student. “Merlin’s saggy ass cheeks, Ylva! Take it easy!”

Merritt turned away and resumed the male form. He scooped the quarterstaff off the ground and looked for another dummy to destroy.

The subway disgorged Merritt on a Staten Island road lined with oak trees. Merritt gaped at them as she joined the crowd of young paras flowing down the street. They were ordinary red oaks, their leaves verdantly green despite their name, but she felt the magic in them.

Even though the street led between walled mansions that appeared human-owned, magic was thick in the air. The young students marching down the sidewalk carried backpacks and wore earphones but trusted the Veil to disguise their appearances. Tattoos shone on the bald scalps of orcs. Trolls wore decorative rings on their tusks. A gaggle of Sylthana Elves passed Merritt, their loose hair drifting down to their heels.

Their energy and magic made the air sizzle. Merritt breathed it in as she blended with the crowd, grinning.

They all reached a wrought-iron gate in front of a beautiful campus, all green lawns and stately buildings, but something seemed off. The air shimmered like a mirage, and powerful magic tickled Merritt’s skin.

Staten Island Private University, the lettering over the arch read. When Merritt stepped through the warded gates, the world blurred for an instant, and then she saw the campus in its true glory. The lettering now said Royal University of the Eternity Throne.

The buildings enclosed the campus’ expansive lawns in a U-shape, with a domed observatory at the center. She gaped at the buildings, fascinated. Pillars and battlements made them grandiose, but it was their decorative finishes that really caught Merritt’s attention, with gilded finials glittering on the rooftops, porticos jutting between the pillars, and gargoyles encrusting the roofs. One winked at Merritt when he caught her staring. She blushed and looked away.

The students streamed across the campus. Merritt had no idea where to find Eldrim Frostquill’s office, so she joined a likely looking group of dwarves. They passed knots of college kids hanging out on the lawn, including a group of trolls gathered around a device that sizzled and glowed blue, three werewolves lounging in the shade, heads pillowed on the others’ furry bodies, and two elves sparring with spears and shields to yells of protest from a passing professor.

“Confine all sparring to the lists, please!” the orc scolded.

Merritt stuck with the dwarves, who turned left and headed through an arch. The university grounds stretched farther; the property was bigger than it appeared. Sandy lists stood on Merritt’s left, a hippodrome towered ahead, and the twenty-foot-tall goalposts for pegasus polo loomed over a field on her right.

The dwarves went toward the hippodrome. Merritt was certain that was the wrong way. She doubted she’d find a history professor in an arena.

“Hey, you. You lost?” someone called.

Merritt gushed, “This place is amazing!”

A young elf leaning against the arch laughed. His mohawk showed off his pointy ears, and a ring sparkled on his lip as he spoke. “You’re new here, right? The charm wears off after you’ve taken finals a couple of times.”

“I’m not studying here,” Merritt admitted. More’s the pity. “I’m here to see a professor.”

“Which one? I can help you.” The elf straightened, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. “I have a few minutes before my next class.”

“That’s kind of you.” Merritt extended a hand. “I’m Merritt.”

“Wait, Merritt Vale?” The elf’s eyebrows shot up. “Guardian of Little Avalon?”

“Uh, yes.” Merritt shifted her weight. “How did you know?”

“Girl, do you read the news?”

“I watch the human news on TV,” Merritt admitted. She liked checking for crime hotspots, although things had been quiet since she’d killed the leader of a gang in Brooklyn Bridge Park.

“You’ve been all over the New York Paranormal since you helped Duchess Eiravel defeat Alecto.” The elf’s eyes shone. “Did you hear I met her in the flesh? The duchess, I mean. Dante was my roomie before he dropped out to run the Second Fist.”

“Dante’s the best. You must be Alex.” Merritt gripped his hand.

“That’s me.” The elf shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. So, which professor are you looking for?”

“Eldrim Frostquill. The dwarven history professor.”

“Nutty Frosty? Sorry. We can’t call him that since his big break with Mount Adalbern. Still, it suits him. He’s this way.” Alex strode off.

Merritt followed him down a covered walkway between the pillars of the main building. Alex waved at several other students and ducked behind a pillar when a stout orc strode past, scowling.

“Sorry,” he hissed. “She has it in for me.”

The orc stopped and sniffed the air. “Alexander!”

“Crap.” Alex came out from behind the pillar. “Yes, Prof?”

“I’m still waiting for that assignment. You’re supposed to be working on it, not gallivanting around with celebrities.”

“Celebrities?” Merritt wondered.

Alex wrung his hands. “Yes, Prof! It’ll be on your desk tonight like I promised.”

“It better be.” The orc marched off.

Alex continued down the walkway. “I haven’t started yet. It’s about the thaumareductive effect of obsidian-based wiring in para/human devices.”

“The what of the what in what?” Merritt asked.

Alex groaned. “Exactly. This way.”

The two stone dragons that guarded the steps turned their heads to watch as Merritt and Alex passed, but the elf didn’t seem to notice. Merritt resisted the urge to pet the dragons and followed him across a grand lobby and up a flight of stairs. They passed several smaller offices before entering a long hall with larger offices.

“Here we are.” Alex stopped by a door whose plaque designated it as Professor Frostquill’s office. “Nutty Frosty moved into this space a couple of months ago. He used to be the butt of everyone’s jokes, but since Mount Adalbern, he’s one of our most famous professors.”

“I’ve heard Val talk about what they found inside the mountain—a lost dwarven city.”

“It’s the greatest dwarven discovery of our time,” Alex agreed. “I’m not coming in. I don’t have the energy for old Nutty Frosty today. I should be sketching diagrams of those stupid obsidian wiring configurations.”

“Thanks for the help, Alex.”

“Tell Dante I said hi.” Alex waved and jogged off, mohawk bobbing.

There was a splintering crash on the other side of the door.

Merritt knocked. “Um, Professor Frostquill?”

A second crash resounded within. “Oh, dear.”

“Professor Frostquill, sir? It’s Merritt Vale. We talked via email?”

“Do come in, whoever you are,” the professor called. “I need a hand.”

Merritt cautiously pushed the door open, almost knocking over a teetering pile of papers. Two stockinged legs ending in curly-toed shoes protruded from behind a large desk.

“Merlin’s beard!” Merritt hurried over. “Are you okay?”

The dwarf on the other side sprawled in his chair, which had steps to accommodate his height. Books, papers, artifacts, lumps of rock, and crumpled scrolls littered the floor around him and partially covered his body.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he grumbled, “but take this.” He held out a chunk of black rock with streaks of scarlet crystal.

“Sure.” Merritt expected it to be heavy, but it weighed less than a brick.

“Don’t drop it,” Professor Frostquill warned. “It will explode and kill everyone in the building.”

“Shit! Okay.” Merritt clutched it tightly.

The professor struggled out from under the heap of academic debris and righted his chair. Breathing heavily, he straightened the half-moon glasses on his nose and smoothed the curly white beard that fell to his belly button.

“Thank you very much, young lady.” He placed the rock on an intact pile of papers like a paperweight. “Please have a seat.”

It took Merritt a moment to find one. The office was so cluttered that she didn’t see the chair until she lifted a stack of books. Heaps of paper, bits of metal, pieces of rock bearing strange runes and mysterious inscriptions, and rusty old weapons lay everywhere. Merritt wondered why the professor didn’t have any closets or shelves. Perhaps it was because the walls held more scrolls, papers, maps, and pictures, with thumbtacks connecting different-colored threads all over them. The window overlooking the campus was a welcome break in the chaos. Through it, several paras swooped around on pegasi and sparred in the lists.

“You have a lot going on.” Merritt sat.

“Especially since Val discovered the hidden city in Mount Adalbern.” Professor Frostquill beamed. “We’re recovering history lost to the war and remastering magic that generations of dwarves forgot. Val has opened up the history and legacy of her people in ways that I never dreamed of.”

“Val has a way of exceeding one’s wildest dreams.” Merritt smiled.

The professor laughed. “Truer words were never spoken, Guardian Vale. I understand you have something you’d like me to look at.”

“Yes.” Merritt’s gut knotted. “I...I’m hoping you can give me answers, even if I don’t like them.”

She retrieved the amulet from her backpack. Power hummed within, making her skin tingle. A shiver scampered down her spine, either excitement or disgust. Perhaps both.

“Mmm.” The professor leaned forward. “Fascinating.”

The amulet was the size of a dollar coin and shaped like a tree knot. Professor Frostquill produced a loupe from the chaos behind his desk, put it in one eye, and inspected the amulet through it.

“Incredible. I see no inscriptions or runes, only this wonderful bark-like texture. It looks like wood but it feels like metal.” The professor raised his head. “Where did you say it came from?”

“Lichenvale, like me. It was the only thing that survived Mordred’s attack.”

“The only thing apart from you.” The professor tilted his head. “Miss Vale, words cannot convey my sympathy for your loss.”

Merritt’s throat tightened. “My people are gone, but the amulet’s still here. I want to know what it does and why.”

“Of course. Have any other experts examined it?”

“I took it to Titus Dorian, and Merlin saw it when he rescued me, but neither knows much about it. They tell me it’s Leshbolg-made and powerful.” Merritt sighed. “I already knew that.”

“Perhaps I can enlighten you further.” Professor Frostquill stood. “Let me find my testing box. It is around here somewhere.” He pawed through the papers and books, restacking them willy-nilly. “Aha! Here it is.”

He tossed a piece of goblin skull aside and extracted a heavy foot-long cast iron rectangle with glass windows on two sides. He triumphantly carried it to the desk and dumped it in front of Merritt, scratching the desk’s wood surface.

“Here we are.” He pressed buttons on the top. “Fantastic new thaumatech, this. Qtana developed it. It tells you about the properties of anything you put inside.”

“How does it do that?”

“By blowing them up, mostly.”

Merritt snatched the amulet back. “Professor, this is the only relic I have from my people.”

“Don’t fret, it won’t be damaged.” Professor Frostquill cheerfully grabbed the amulet and tossed it into the tester. “Here we go!” He slammed the top shut.

“Wait!”

The professor pressed a series of buttons on the top, and the tester hissed and sizzled. Magic of different colors arced within like lightning, bouncing around the amulet. When the green magic touched the amulet, it intensified and reflected, filling the tester with bright light.

“Yes, yes,” Professor Frostquill muttered. “Fascinating. Very interesting.”

“What is?” Merritt asked.

“You might want to cover your ears.” Professor Frostquill stuffed his fingers into his.

“What?” Merritt blinked.

“Ears!” the professor yelled.

The green glow brightened until it seared Merritt’s eyes. She clapped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut with not a moment to spare. The dull boom shook everything in the office and made Merritt’s chair shudder as papers spilled to the floor and books tumbled over.

“Aha!” Professor Frostquill barked.

Merritt opened her eyes, blinking as her vision returned. She half-expected to see a heap of ash in the tester, but the amulet lay within, smoking but undamaged.

Professor Frostquill peered at the screen on top of the tester. “Exactly as I thought.”

“What is?”

“The properties are unlike any other metal I’ve seen.” Professor Frostquill beamed.

Merritt sagged in the chair. “It remains an unknown, then.”

“Not necessarily.” The professor glanced at the screen again. “Thaumic heat, density, melting point, and magic absorption all tell me what this amulet is made of. These numbers seem familiar. I’m sure I saw them in a book somewhere.” He stroked his beard, gazing around the office.

Merritt had reservations. There were hundreds of books in the office.

“Ah! I know.” Professor Frostquill snapped his fingers. “It was Botanical Species of Mistwood North.”

“Botanical?” Merritt echoed.

“It’s about this big.” Professor Frostquill held his hands a few inches apart. “Hardcover, green binding, gold letters. Help me find it.”

He dove into the chaos, throwing books over his shoulder as he muttered about alphabetical organization. Merritt joined him. The number of green and gold hardcovers in the office astounded her, but she eventually fished one out from under a bowl of cookies and keychains. “Botanical Species of Mistwood North. Found it!”

“Excellent, excellent.” The professor all but snatched it from her. “Let me see... Aha. They have an index by thaumic density.” He ran his finger down the page. “Here it is. I now know what your amulet is made of, Guardian Vale.”

Merritt’s heart skipped. “What?”

Professor Frostquill swept books and papers from his desk with a careless swipe of his arm and placed the open book on the desk. The hand-drawn image within depicted a magnificent willow-like tree, its branches dangling over running water. Enormous blue flowers dotted its branches.

“The Lichenvale steelwillow,” Professor Frostquill announced. “Its wood turns into a steel-like metal when cut. Many opportunistic adventurers attempted to get into Lichenvale to cut branches from the tree since it was cheaper than mining and making steel, but the Leshbolgs were intensely protective of them.”

“Makes sense. That’s why there are so many stories about the dangerous and savage Leshbolgs.”

“Precisely, Guardian Vale. They were protecting their trees. As a result, we have very little information about the steelwillow, although one researcher brought back a single twig to study. That’s why we have its thaumic density…which is very high, by the way.”

“What does that mean?”

“Steelwillow can hold large amounts of magic.” The professor nodded at the tester. “That’s why your amulet contains so much power.”

Merritt ran a hand over her hair. “Power that interests the Furies.”

“Yes. The discovery of the sketches at the Fury sites has been the subject of much debate here.”

“Why would the Furies be interested in an amulet from Lichenvale, Professor?”

Professor Frostquill spread his hands. “I can’t tell you without knowing more about the amulet.”

Merritt bit her lip. “You don’t know what it does or what it’s for?”

Professor Frostquill shook his head. “There’s no way to discover that while the amulet is inactive.”

“Inactive?”

“All magic artifacts are, by default, at rest. They have no life of their own. Though magic fills them, they must awaken. Most have triggers to activate their power, such as the presence of a specific paranormal species.”

The words were a kick to Merritt’s gut. “I’m the last Leshbolg, but the amulet hasn’t activated in my presence.”

Professor Frostquill smiled. “You just don’t know how to activate it. We can all sense magic, and your intuition told you the amulet has power. We will only know what that power is after it’s activated.”

Merritt put her elbows on the desk. “How can I learn to activate the amulet, Professor? There are no other Leshbolgs left to teach me.”

“There are other ways of activating amulets. One example would be to return the amulet to the place where it was made or take it to its source. That commonly works.”

“Its power source?”

“Or the source of its materials.” Professor Frostquill opened the tester and took the cooling amulet out with tongs. “If this was near a living steelwillow, it would likely activate.”

Merritt swallowed. “You...you mean I should take it to Lichenvale.”

“Precisely.” Professor Frostquill sighed. “It would likely activate there, so you could find out what its power does.”

Lichenvale. Merritt’s few blurred memories whisked through her mind: baking bellyfill with an army of laughing female Leshbolgs, gazing at a magnificent tree with a dense green canopy, feasting with her people, running through the woods with a group of male Leshbolgs, and the last, most vivid one: her mother’s frightened face as she pulled a curtain over Merritt while a mass of dark beings poured into Lichenvale as the Leshbolg army raced to meet it.

That was all she could remember from before Merlin rescued her. It was all anyone knew of Lichenvale before its destruction.

“Guardian Vale?” Professor Frostquill asked. “Are you all right?”

An iron band constricted Merritt’s chest. She stumbled out of the chair. “Fine. I’m fine.” She snatched up the amulet. “Thank you for your time, Professor.”

Before he could respond, she was out of his office and hurrying away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Merritt returned to Little Avalon long enough to fetch Akila from the apartment. Damian was home and asleep. He’d given the echinemon a toy stuffed with peanut butter that had kept her from destroying more than a single towel and the TV remote—a new record.

“We’re going out for a minute, girl.” Merritt snapped Akila’s leash on and headed for the door. “I...I don’t want to do this alone.”

Akila seemed to sense the terrible weight that crushed Merritt’s ribs. She sat silently on her person’s lap during the long, stuffy subway ride from Bay Ridge to the Financial District, navigating the streets and stations with an uncharacteristic calm.

When they reached the only grassy, open space in the heart of the Financial District, Akila walked by Merritt’s side on a loose leash. The echinemon whined when she saw the lawns and well-tended trees and the sound of running water reached them.

“No, girl,” Merritt whispered. “This isn’t a park for playing in.”

Few people were here at this time on a weekday, only someone mowing the grass and an old man standing by one of the pools with a bowed head. Merritt gave them both plenty of space. She walked up to the other pool and gazed into the water rushing down its granite walls, reflecting the sunny sky.

The names etched on the pool’s edges caught Merritt’s eye. She read several, heart swelling.

DIARELIA JOVANAH MENA. MARIA A. BEHR. RYAN KOHART. BRIAN THOMAS.

Tess had told her that these were the names of people who died in an appalling attack that killed thousands of innocents as they went about their day. Merritt’s eyes burned with tears. The same thing had happened to the Leshbolgs, but there was nothing like this in Lichenvale. Generations of people would come by here and read the names of those who died on 9/11, but no one remembered a single Leshbolg’s name. “I don’t remember them, Akila.” She bowed her head, struggling with her tears. “No one remembers them.”

Akila whimpered and pressed her body against Merritt’s knees.

Merritt needed to feel grass. She led Akila to the nearest tree and sat down with her head in her hands. Akila pushed her nose under Merritt’s elbows and nudged them away, forcing her to wrap her arms around the echinemon’s neck.

Sobs shook her. Akila scrambled into her lap and licked her face, whining softly.

“I don’t know what it’s like there, Akila.” Merritt wept between words. “I don’t know what it used to be, and I don’t know how it is now. I’ve lost it all. It must be a ruin, but I don’t know how to mourn what it used to be like because I don’t...I don’t remember it.”

Akila leaned her weight against Merritt’s chest. Merritt hugged her and buried her face in the coarse hair. The pressure allowed her to take deep breaths, and the sobs faded.

“You’re a good girl, Akila.”

The echinemon arched closer.

Merritt ran her hands over Akila’s hair, enjoying the feel of the spiky outer coat and the downy layer beneath. It brought her back to this moment and made it easier to breathe. “Such a good girl.”

She wiped her eyes with one hand, still petting the echinemon with the other. Akila rested her head on Merritt’s knee and lay quietly. Merritt leaned her head against the tree and gazed at the dappled sunlight trickling through the chinks between the leaves.

I need to remember. Help me remember.

The tree’s magic hummed in its sap, awakening by Merritt’s touch. The sunlight in the leaves... It reminded her of something. She closed her eyes, willing the memory to come to her, and slowly, it did.

Lichenvale.

Leshbolgs. Dozens of them surrounded Merritt in female form, wearing dresses of woven grass and leaves alight with living white flowers. They all cupped their hands in front of them. The rush of water filled her ears.

They stood beneath a giant tree, its branches dangling over the river. Merritt gazed up at its branches. The tree felt familiar; its size awed her, higher than a redwood or the mighty dryads of Fernwood Deep. Its magic sizzled on her skin.

A Leshbolg stepped forward. Merritt craned her neck to see. This one had gray hair with tendrils that curled like Spanish moss. She knelt, and a gentle hand pressed against Merritt’s back, propelling her a step forward so she could see where the Leshbolg knelt.

She bowed her head over a bier made of woven vines that still bloomed purple. A body lay on the bier, hands folded over her chest. The Leshbolg who lay there was much older than the gray-haired one. Though her body was frozen in death, Merritt saw age and pain written in the creases of her face and the skeletal arms folded on her chest.

Merritt felt more fascination than sorrow. She couldn’t recall the late Leshbolg’s name, but then she hadn’t known her well.

The gray-haired Leshbolg spoke in a language more familiar than English.

“Living Waters receive you.” She extended her arms, and the vines grew and wrapped around the body, enclosing it like a cocoon. “Living Waters take you, and may Living Waters guide you safely home.”

The other Leshbolgs repeated the words, including Merritt.

“Goodbye.” The gray-haired Leshbolg extended her cupped hands, and a plant sprouted from them with round, flat leaves. It budded, then blossomed into a pure white waterlily, which she gently placed on the cocoon.

One by one, the other Leshbolgs did the same. Merritt tucked her flower into a spot by the late Leshbolg’s shoulder. When they had all given their waterlilies to the dead, the body was hidden.

They stepped back as the gray-haired Leshbolg raised her arms, summoning her plant power. More vines sprouted from the cocoon and walked it from the bier to the river’s edge like tentacles. They gently lowered the deceased into the water, and the current swept the cocoon away. As it drifted down the river, the vines disintegrated, but there was no body. Hundreds of white waterlilies floated down the river in a beautiful carpet.

The gray-haired Leshbolg rose and quietly sang. The song was wordless and had an ancient feel, perhaps older than their language. With pure and piping voices, the other Leshbolgs joined in. Merritt closed her eyes and sang along, knowing the rises and ripples of the song.

Its last notes reverberated beneath the branches of the mighty tree. Merritt opened her eyes when someone touched her shoulder.

“Manniref, my love.” It was her mother.

Merritt turned, but the memory faded before she saw her mother’s face. Her eyes fluttered open. She was back in the present, her hands buried in Akila’s coat. She’d clenched her fists in the long hair, but the echinemon didn’t protest.

A laugh lifted her chest although tears trickled down her cheeks. “I remember them, Akila. I remember them!”

She released the echinemon’s coat and wiped her eyes. Akila rested her head on Merritt’s chest and licked her chin.

“They were beautiful.” Merritt forced the words out through her tears. “They were magnificent. The whole world should know about them and how much I loved them.”

She pulled the amulet out of her pocket. Remembering its sketch in Alecto’s journal made her belly twist, but she closed her fingers over it. “Whatever this thing is and whatever Lichenvale looks like now, my people were beautiful. I will do whatever it takes to honor and remember them.”

Akila leaned closer.

Merritt tucked the amulet away and wrapped an arm around Akila. “If that means going to Lichenvale, so be it.”

Merritt’s phone rang a few minutes from Bay Ridge Station. The caller ID showed an unknown number.

Merritt took the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this the emergency number for Guardian Vale?” someone nervously asked. Merritt didn’t recognize their voice.

“That’s me. How can I help you?”

“Um, where are you?”

“Ten minutes from Little Avalon.” Merritt straightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you make it five?”

Merritt did. In fox form, she sprinted onto Lillie Street five minutes later, Akila bounding by her side.

Chaos reigned. Stores had their doors closed. The Second Fist’s tables were upturned and scattered in the street. A gaggle of school kids ran past, screaming and clinging to one another’s hands.

Merritt stood in human form. “What’s happening?”

The kids bolted into the nearest building and slammed the door.

Something huge and white lay on the ground a few yards away. Merritt jogged to it and picked up a feather as long as her arm, its tip pointed like an eagle’s wing feather.

“Oh, shit!”

Somebody screamed behind the row of houses—in Pendragon Street, Merritt guessed. “Akila, this way!” She raced up the sidewalk and around the gas station, dodging the charging ports for magic crystal-powered vehicles. An eagle’s screech shook the ground as she bolted around the corner and almost collided with a fleeing orc.

“Guardian Vale!” he yelped. “Thank Luna you’re here! Look!”

He spun and pointed at the White Roc.

“Merlin’s puckered asshole,” Merritt groaned.

The mighty bird’s talons had churned up the asphalt like plowed earth. His outstretched wings eclipsed the street as he screeched again, shaking the ground when he stomped his feet. Panicking paranormals fled to the houses, screaming, and they weren’t alone. Isabella Sanchez stood outside her hair salon, open-mouthed and staring.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Merritt hissed, running toward the roc.

A Woodland Fae was pinned against her yard’s wall, clutching a toddler to her chest. The toddler wailed as the White Roc swung to face them and clacked his beak.

“Whoa! Whoa! Stop!” Ylva ran between the bird and the fae, arms outstretched. “Stop!”

The roc stepped back, squawking, and crushed a parked sedan with one foot. The man sitting in it scrambled out and sprinted away as the car buckled like a tin can.

“You have to stop! Don’t move!” Ylva waved her arms.

The waving confused the roc more. He swung his head left and right, looking for somewhere to flee.

Visions of the White Roc flying over New York City made Merritt’s stomach clench. She jogged toward Ylva, phone in hand.

“It’s okay, everybody!” She held up her hands. “It’s okay. He’s not here to hurt you. Stay calm, and he will settle down. Stay calm!”

Her words rang around the street. Fleeing paras slowed and turned to her. The roc stopped moving and folded his wings.

“Come this way.” Merritt beckoned at the terrified fae mother. “Get away from there.”

The fae edged toward Merritt.

“Begone, foul beast!” The cry came from an elderly werewolf. He shuffled across the street from his house, walking stick raised.

“Sir, no!” Merritt yelled.

The werewolf smacked the roc’s foot with his stick. The bird shrieked and flung his wings open, generating a gust of air that knocked the werewolf flat on his ass. The roc swung around, foot descending toward the fae and her child.

Merritt’s magic surged, male form at the ready, but hesitated. Everyone will see me.

Ylva moved faster than Merritt’s thoughts. The valkyrie flung her arms around the fae and darted out from beneath the roc’s talons with a flutter of her wings, carrying the fae and her child to safety.

“It’s okay!” Merritt ran to the fallen werewolf’s side, putting herself between the foolish citizen and the roc. “It’s okay, boy! Easy. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The roc’s amber eyes locked on her.

“I know you came here to find Ylva,” Merritt called. “You couldn’t bear to be alone on Islandseyja for another minute, could you? You needed your only friend.”

The roc’s wings sagged. He lowered his head and emitted a rumbling purr that made the street tremble.

“It’s okay.” Merritt held out a hand. “She’s right here. You can calm down.”

She beckoned Ylva over. The valkyrie left the fae and her child and approached, extending a hand toward the roc. “I’m here.”

The roc lowered his head and pressed his beak against her palm.

“Begone,” the werewolf quavered, struggling to his feet with the stick in hand. “Foul beast!”

“Sir, sit your ass down before you hurt yourself,” Merritt snapped.

The werewolf blinked at her, but to her relief, he shut up and wandered off.

Merritt dialed a three-digit number and raised the phone to her ear.

“Human Exposure Hotline. Where is your emergency?”

“Pendragon Street, Little Avalon. We’re dealing with multiple exposures to a Veil-resistant paranormal sighting. Merritt Vale here, Guardian of Little Avalon. I can contain the affected humans for a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Guardian Vale. I’ll dispatch a team to your location immediately. Do you require armed assistance?”

“No, no. There are no threats here.”

“No threats?” Ylva hissed.

Merritt hung up. “No. If we manage him carefully, he won’t hurt anyone.” She turned. “You! Rory! You there!”

“Yes, ma’am!” A youngster in a school uniform smartly saluted.

“Run to Jackson Roott’s grocery store and grab me the biggest chunk of meat he has. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Rory sprinted away.

“Can I help, Merritt?” Leonie Bruges hovered by her gate, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.

“Yes, Leonie. You have a way with humans, judging by how often your boyfriend’s car is outside your house in the evenings.” Merritt smirked. “Can you keep the humans together and calm them until the team gets here?”

“I’m on it.” Leonie hurried across the street to Isabella. “Bella, it’s okay. This will all be over soon.”

“What is that?” Isabella quavered.

“What’s your plan, Merritt?” Ylva rubbed the soft skin beneath the roc’s eyes. He leaned into her touch.

“Keep him calm. We’ll lure him off the street.” Merritt looked around. “Where’s Rory with that meat?”

The young werewolf returned a few moments later, triumphantly carrying a haunch of wild boar imported from the Resurrected Woods. It dripped blood on the street as he held it aloft. “I found something, Merritt!”

The roc raised his head, pupils dilating.

Merritt grabbed the haunch. “Ylva, catch!” She flung it toward the valkyrie, and the roc’s head swung to follow it.

Ylva jumped and fluttered to catch it. “Here, boy!” Ylva called, waving the meat. “This way!”

The roc chirped and lumbered after her, his footsteps shaking the ground.

“Good boy!” Ylva cried.

Merritt slapped Rory on the back. “Thank you! Help Leonie with the humans. Quickly.”

The werewolf scampered off, and Merritt ran ahead of the roc, waving her arms. “Make way! Make way! Coming through!”

Paranormals scattered as the roc plodded to Chester Way, his beak snapping at the meat Ylva held just out of reach. Merritt held her breath as the roc moved between the buildings and toward the park. Para families retreated as Ylva led the roc between the vegetable patches.

“It’s okay, everyone!” Merritt announced. “He won’t hurt you. You’re fine.”

“Where am I going, Merritt?” Ylva hissed.

“Get him to the hill on the far side. I’ll arrange a ward to keep him there, but he should be happy there for now.”

Ylva swooped away. The roc sprang off the ground and followed her, his wingbeats churning the treetops. They soared across the park to safety.

“Phew.” Merritt jogged back down Chester Way to Pendragon Street.

Councilor Arion Woodskin was stacking cones around the churned asphalt where the roc had landed. “The response team’s here, Merritt.” He pointed at a portal a few yards away.

“That was quick.” Merritt turned to the knot of humans on the sidewalk. Not many lived in Little Avalon, but some frequented the businesses here, and half a dozen demanded answers from Leonie and Rory as the paras tried to calm them.

“What was that thing?” Isabella squealed. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“What happened to your teeth?” Hank demanded of Leonie. The vampire shut her mouth with a snap.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Rory soothed.

“What do you mean? A bird the size of a house landed on the street outside my salon!” Isabella waved her arms. “Why is everyone acting like it’s normal?”

A pair of trolls clambered through the portal, which did not help the humans’ state of mind.

“Where did they come from?” Hank screamed. “Why are they green?”

“People!” Merritt held out her hands. “Take it easy. I know this is terrifying, but everything will be fine.”

“Merritt, what’s happening?” Isabella grabbed her hands.

“You’ve been exposed to something dangerous, but you’ll be fine. Everything will be back to normal in a second.” Merritt squeezed her fingers. “Qenzi, thank Merlin you’re here.”

One of the trolls swiped her chestnut hair out of her face, her new wedding ring flashing in the sun. Her companion carried a magic staff with a diamond the size of Merritt’s fist on the tip.

“Hey, everybody! How’s it going? Beautiful day.” Qenzi chirped. “Qayla, boot up the staff. We have work to do.”

Isabella’s jaw dropped. “Kenzie? What happened to your skin?”

“Nothing, Bella. Nothing at all.” Qenzi sighed. “I am living the dream. I get to protect humans and paras.”

“Paras? What are you talking about?”

Merritt squeezed Isabella’s hands again. “Hey, Bella, look at me. You’re okay.” Isabella’s racing breaths slowed as she met Merritt’s eyes.

“One second, everybody.” Qenzi turned to her assistant. “Qayla, activate the runes.”

Qayla fiddled with the staff, and white light throbbed in the diamond’s heart.

“Okay, everyone. If you would all face that way, please.” Qenzi pointed to the wall.

“I’m not turning my back on you!” Hank yelped.

“Oh, my goodness!” Qayla shrieked, pointing. “What is that?”

The humans whipped around as one. Qenzi seized the staff and waved it over them.

The magic within shattered the diamond. Its pieces rained to the ground, clinking like glass, as a magical shockwave ran through the humans. They stumbled, grunting with surprise, and Merritt grabbed Hank’s arm to keep him from falling. The diamond’s magic passed harmlessly through her skin, leaving a mild tingle behind.

Isabella raised a hand to her head. “What...what happened?”

“Everything’s okay,” Qenzi spoke calmly. “There was an accident. You’ve all had a nasty shock.”

Hank pressed his hand to his chest. “I feel so strange.”

Qenzi turned to Merritt. “Somebody needs to watch them for a little while. They’ll bounce back in half an hour without knowing any of this ever happened, but in the meantime, they are pathologically suggestible.”

“I will help,” Leonie chipped in. “After what Merritt did for me, I’ll happily take this off her hands. I’ll watch them.”

“That’s great, Leonie. Thank you.”

Leonie turned to the humans. “This way, everyone! We all need is a nice cup of tea. Then you’ll feel better.”

The humans obediently trooped across the street to Leonie’s house.

“Poor things.” Merritt sighed.

“Don’t feel sorry for them.” Qenzi leaned on the staff as Qayla swept up the broken diamond bits. “Feel sorry for Little Avalon’s coffers. This cost Val hundreds of thousands.”

Merritt flinched. “Wow.”

“It’s why we try to avoid mind-wiping humans. The process doesn’t hurt them and keeps the human and paranormal worlds safer, but it burns through diamonds like you wouldn’t believe.”

Merritt smiled. “You seem cheerful today.”

“Cheerful?” Qenzi giggled. “I’m euphoric. Why wouldn’t I be?” She wiggled her ring finger. “I’m living the dream. Thanks for that.”

“Qenz, I helped with the wedding. The marriage is all you and Liam.”

Qenzi glowed. “If I’d known how amazing marriage is, I wouldn’t have wasted one drop of worry on the wedding.”

The troll turned away to help Qayla clean up the expensive debris.

“Merritt?”

She turned. Ylva stood behind her, wringing her hands. “Where’s the roc?”

“He’s building a nest on the big hill at the back of the park. He seems happy there.” Ylva cleared her throat. “I told him that he had to stay there. I think he understands.”

“Good.” Merritt ran a hand over her hair. “This is a mess.”

Ylva bit her lip. “I’m truly sorry, Merritt.”

Merritt touched her arm. “Don’t apologize. You helped keep everyone safe today. None of this is your fault.”

The roar of a V8 Cobrajet ended in a screech of tires. Genevieve halted nearby, her wheels barely stopping before Val jumped out of the driver’s seat. “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?”

Ylva’s whole body flinched.

Merritt hurried to meet Val. “There was a situation, but everything’s under control. I might have cost you a lot of money, though.” She grimaced.

“Merlin’s torsioned testicle.” Val stared at the cones surrounding the ruined street. “Tell me you didn’t have to call the human exposure team.”

“I did. Sorry. The White Roc came to Little Avalon looking for Ylva, but she made sure he didn’t hurt anyone. We shepherded him to Esmerelda Park and had the humans mind-wiped. They’re all having tea with Leonie now.”

Val pinched the bridge of her nose. “The White Roc? How in Merlin’s name did he get here?”

Merritt turned to Ylva. “I have no idea. Do you?”

“I tried to get him to explain, but we don’t understand one another well yet. He said he could smell me. I don’t know how he got through the dimensional wall,” Ylva admitted. “It’s safe to say he has powers we don’t know about.”

“Now he’s living in my park?” Val snapped. “Fantastic.”

“It’s okay, Val.” Merritt spread her hands placatingly. “Liam and I will build him a runic boundary so that he doesn’t feel caged but can’t get out of his area in the park.”

“Yeah? That thing went through the walls between the worlds, Merritt.” Val planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not convinced that runes will hold him.”

“I’ll make sure they do.” Ylva raised her chin. “I take responsibility for him. I bonded with him, so I caused him to come here and create all this trouble.” She bit her lip. “I have no work yet, but I will keep trying. When I do find some, I’ll pay you back for the expense of the mind wipes.”

Val’s mouth relaxed. “Honorable as ever, Ylva, but unless you inherit a couple of million Avalonian dollars, you’d be in debt for decades. It’s okay. I’m the Duchess of Little Avalon and have a human exposure fund set aside for shit like this. Honestly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. It’s a risk we knew about when we established a paranormal community in a human neighborhood.”

Ylva’s shoulders loosened. “You won’t harm the White Roc?”

“Why would I? He’s not a monster. I trust you two to figure something out to keep this from happening again.” Val slapped Merritt on the back. “Good job, Guardian. I can’t believe you got the frantic phone call for once, not me. Thank you for handling this so well.”

Merritt smiled. “I’m the Guardian of Little Avalon. It’s my job.”

“I don’t think you realize what your role means to me.” Val laid a hand on Merritt’s shoulder, engulfing it. “I’ve spent the day bodyguarding a visiting monarch from Avalon. If it wasn’t for you, I would have had to sort out this shit when I got home. Instead, I get to go home, take a shower, and have dinner with my fiancé. Simple things that weren’t my reality until you came along.”

“I’m happy I can help.” Merritt hesitated. “Um, speaking of all the stuff you have to do...”

Val lowered her hand. “What do you need?”

“I have to go to Lichenvale.” Merritt rubbed her neck. “It’s about researching my amulet. Could you come?”

Val bit her lip. “Sorry, Merritt. That is vitally important, but I promised Niall that we’d spend the weekend looking at wedding venues. That might seem trivial in the grand scheme of things...”

“Your soon-to-be marriage isn’t trivial,” Merritt stated. “You made a promise to the person you love. Also, you’re not the only person in the world who can come with me to Lichenvale. I’ll ask somebody else. Maybe Tess.”

“Tess and Tetra both have contracts, but I have a great idea.” Val smirked. “He’ll be perfect for the job, but he probably won’t like it.”

Merritt laughed. “When does he ever?”

The house smelled of bacon and eggs despite the late hour when Merritt entered the kitchen. Akila immediately whined with hunger and pulled on her leash. The smell made Merritt’s stomach turn since she hadn’t taken male form that day, not even when the roc endangered the people of Little Avalon.

Her gut clenched at the idea. What is wrong with me? Then again, how would they have reacted if they’d seen him? Would they have looked at him with the same horror with which they regarded the roc?

She shook off the thought and unclipped Akila’s leash. Damian stood by the stove, flipping bacon in the pan. He looked up as Merritt ambled over.

“Oh, you’re home.” Damian lit the burner beneath the kettle. “Bet you want hot chocolate.”

Merritt leaned on the counter and gave him an ingratiating smile. “Heyyyyy, Damian.”

The vampire huffed. “What do you want?”

“Are you busy this weekend?”

“Of course I’m busy this weekend. Contrary to popular belief, I have a life.” Damian gestured with the spatula. “I have shit to do. Also social plans.”

Merritt batted her eyelashes.

“What do you want?” Damian demanded.

Merritt explained the Lichenvale situation. “Tess, Tetra, and Val are all busy. I guess I could go on my own⁠—”

“No.” Damian jabbed the spatula at her, lightly spotting her favorite blouse with bacon fat. “You will not go on your own. It’s Mistwood North. Something that wants to eat you will be around every corner.”

“I can handle myself.”

“So you keep saying. Then I have to scrape you out of parking garages, half-dead.” There was a quiver in his voice on the last word.

Merritt rolled her eyes. “That was one time. I grew up in Mistwood North. My powers are stronger there.”

“First you talked me into it, now you’re trying to talk me out of it. Don’t think I’m oblivious to whatever reverse psychology bullshit you’re trying to pull.” Damian tossed the bacon onto a plate.

Merritt gave her most endearing smile. “Soooo, you’ll come, then? Saturday?”

Damian dumped the plate on the table and stared at her. “Of course, I’ll come.”

“Aww, D, you’re the best,” Merritt cooed.

“Go away.”

Merritt pecked him on the cheek, making him growl in annoyance. Then she made them each a giant mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

CHAPTER NINE

Merritt knocked on the open back door at Lillie House. “Hey! It’s me!”

Loud voices reached her from the kitchen. Merritt stifled a sigh as Akila and Shadow tumbled around the garage, gnawing on each other’s limbs. Genevieve honked in protest when the creatures almost collided with her. “They’re arguing again.”

She marched across the living room. Val and Niall were in the kitchen. Val wore a robe and a headband.

Niall was still in scrubs from the clinic. “Can I have a beer before you tell me that the venues I suggested aren’t worth our time?”

“That was not what I said, Niall.” Val folded her arms. “I’m not getting married in a tree, that’s all.”

“Hey, guys,” Merritt attempted.

“We won’t be in the tree. The chapel is in the branches.” Niall furiously gestured.

“You want to get married in a treehouse?” Val snorted.

“You want to get married in a mine! Where’s the romance in that, honey?”

“Guys!” Merritt yelled.

They jumped. “Oh, it’s you.” Val scowled. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure, but first, let me throw my two cents in,” Merritt suggested.

Niall sighed. “We already have too many cooks spoiling this broth, Merri.”

“Not about the wedding venue.” Merritt shook her head. “We need to leave that for tomorrow and spend the evening unwinding.”

Val raised her head. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something fun that helps us all remember how much we love each other.” Merritt smiled. “You both adore one another. Niall, she refused to go to Lichenvale with me because she’s prioritizing you. You know that, right?”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Babe, you didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did.” Val crossed the kitchen and fell into Niall’s lap, arms around his neck. “You’re my world.”

“Aw.” Niall cuddled her.

Merritt beamed. “We need a little more of this in the wedding planning. We’re all going out tonight, okay?”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Val leaned against Niall. “Where are we going?”

Merritt thought. “How about somewhere other than the Second Fist? Much as I love it, we could all use a change of scenery.”

“I know the perfect place.” Val grinned. “Have you ever been to the original Iron Fist in Williamsburg?”

“Not yet, but everyone tells me it’s incredible.” Merritt inclined her head.

Val’s grin widened. “‘Incredible’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Liam and Qenzi hyped the Iron Fist during the twenty-minute drive to Williamsburg, but they weren’t wrong.

The little bar hunkered in the corner of a blocky building on Continental Army Plaza, where George Washington perched on a distressed copper horse. Liam miraculously found a parking spot in front. He and Qenzi strolled to the bar hand in hand. Merritt and Ylva followed.

“I have never been to a bar full of humans to drink with them,” Ylva whispered.

“It’s okay.” Merritt patted her arm. “I’ll make sure you’re fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Here we are!” Liam swung the door open. “Welcome to the Iron Fist.”

Dwarven music played, all pipes and drums, as Merritt crammed herself into a tiny space packed with paranormals. It smelled of pretzels, good beer, and whisky. Tapestries covered in dwarven knotwork and old shields hung on the walls. Humans clustered around the tables along one wall, but Val and Niall got everyone seats at the bar.

“Hey, here they are!” Val straightened, waving a beer. “Come in, come in, everybody!”

Tess and Tetra sat near her and greeted Merritt and the others with raised glasses.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Ylva whimpered.

“Nonsense.” Merritt grabbed her arm and towed her to the bar. “Hey, Val.”

Val eyed Ylva. “Out for a night on the town, huh?”

Ylva shifted her weight. “Um, yes.”

“Her first,” Merritt added.

Val glared at the valkyrie for a moment. Then she grinned. “Enzo, bring this woman a beer. We’re going to show her what New York nightlife is all about!”

The orc behind the bar had a friendly smile and a family resemblance to Dante. “What’s your poison, valkyrie? IPA? Pilsner?”

“I haven’t drunk anything in years,” Ylva admitted. “Only took the odd sip to blend in when I was, um, undercover.”

Tetra leaned on the bar. “She means trying to assassinate someone.”

“Tetra, shut up.” Tess shoved Tetra’s face down on the wood. “We’ve only been here half an hour, and you’ve already had too much faerie wine.”

“No such thing,” Tetra mumbled.

“Here.” Enzo slid a glass of dark liquid across the bar, flecks of scarlet sparkling in its depths. “This is Iron IPA. Best thing Anvil Brewery makes.”

Merritt slid in between Val and Ylva. Tetra slid onto the stool on Ylva’s other side, clutching a shot glass of something that hissed and smelled like acid.

“This is the good stuff.” She held out the shot glass.

Ylva eyed it. “What is it?”

“Faerie wine. A blend of faerie dust and the purest alcohol Avalon produces. Try it.”

Merritt grabbed Tetra’s arm. “Do not, under any circumstances, drink the faerie wine,” she instructed Ylva. “Tetra, we’re trying to show this girl a good time, not kill her.”

Tetra knocked the shot back and smacked her lips as acid sizzled on them. “I can do that, too. Try the beer.”

The valkyrie warily raised the glass to her lips. Her eyes widened as she sipped.

“Good, right?” Merritt grinned.

Ylva lowered the glass. “Good? It’s fantastic!”

“Hear, hear!” Val raised her beer in a toast. The whole bar cheered.

Ylva slammed the empty glass on the bar. “I like this! More!”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast,” Merritt protested. “It’s not soda.”

“That’s exactly how fast you’re supposed to drink it.” Tetra giggled. “Have another!”

Enzo slid a fresh glass across the bar. Before Merritt could protest, Ylva downed that one, too.

“Oh, crap,” Merritt muttered.

“It’s all good.” Liam gestured with his non-alcoholic beer. “You have a designated driver.”

Ylva tugged out the hair tie that held her dark mane in a braid and shook her head to release the glossy strands.

“You go, Ylva!” Isabella cheered. She sat with Liam and another human friend, Jess, looking none the worse for her adventure yesterday.

“Another!” Ylva shouted.

“Anything for you, Merritt?” Enzo asked, bringing a third IPA for the valkyrie.

“I’ll have the pilsner. Thanks, Enzo.”

Merritt’s glass arrived a moment later, and she sipped cautiously.

Ylva half-emptied her glass and stumbled off the stool, cross-eyed.

“Wow.” Tetra chuckled. “She’s almost as much of a lightweight as you, Merritt.”

“She downed three beers in ten minutes. We shouldn’t judge,” Merritt pointed out.

“I love this music!” Ylva blared. “We should dance!”

“We should definitely do that.” Tetra bounced off her stool. “Drop it like a valkyrie, Ylva!”

“I don’t know what that means,” Ylva bellowed.

Merritt joined her. The Iron Fist had no dance floor, but the strip between the bar and tables would do. Tetra waved her hands above her head and swung her hips in a worrying and uncoordinated fashion.

“Are you having a seizure?” Ylva yelled.

“I’m dancing, dumbass!” Tetra gyrated with great enthusiasm and minimal rhythm.

Merritt slurped her beer and tapped her foot to the beat as Ylva swayed.

“Do you know the Macarena?” Tetra flung an arm around Ylva’s neck.

Ylva hiccupped. “I killed a man who grew macadamias.”

“Close enough.” Tetra belched. “I’ll show you.”

“No, no, no.” Merritt drained her glass and nearly dropped it. “We should do a valkyrie dance.”

Tetra giggled. “Yeah, show us how you do it!”

“I don’t know.” Ylva shrugged. “I was a kid when they took me.”

Merritt closed her eyes. Someone pressed a new glass into her hand, so cold that condensation trickled between her fingers.

“I can show you some faerie dances, but we need moonlit hilltops and twenty or thirty people,” Tetra told Ylva.

“What were you doing just now? Wasn’t that a faerie dance?”

“No, that was human.”

Ylva giggled. “It didn’t look human.”

Someone turned up the music. It thumped in Merritt’s blood, and she swayed, feeling it course through her blood and thunder in her heartbeat. Memory that ran deeper than her brain awakened in her limbs. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, one hand upraised, her body loose and willowy in its motions.

“What are you doing, Merritt?” Tetra demanded.

Merritt opened her eyes. “I’m dancing.”

Ylva and Tetra stared. Merritt’s feet remembered the steps. They carried her sideways and back, then in a smoothly balanced turn.

Tetra shrugged. “Weird, but cool!” She stepped up beside Merritt and copied the movements.

Ylva giggled, emptied her glass, and planted it on the tray of a passing server. She joined in. Annoyed humans huffed and bumped into them as they swayed and spun in the cramped space, but Merritt couldn’t stop her limbs. They danced of their own accord. They knew the rhythm even if her mind didn’t.

The song ended. Merritt wobbled, and Tetra grabbed her arm. “You good?”

“I’m good.” Merritt blinked.

“What was that?” Tetra asked, steering Merritt toward the bar.

Merritt stared at the faerie. “It was a Leshbolg dance.” She laughed. “I remembered it, Tetra. It was Leshbolg!”

Ylva sniffled.

“Ylva? What’s wrong?” Merritt asked.

Fat tears rolled down the valkyrie’s cheeks. “It’s all so beautiful. You remember your lost past, and I’m revising my future. It’s all so…so… I don’t have the words.” She buried her face in her hands and noisily wept.

Everyone stared, speechless.

“Well, who’d have thought it?” Tetra chortled. “The valkyrie’s an emotional drunk.”

They returned to the bar. Tetra put an arm around Ylva’s shoulders as the valkyrie sobbed into a new beer. Merritt nursed her drink. The buzz she’d felt earlier wasn’t all alcohol. It faded as she sat by the bar, trying to remember the movements her body had made.

A heavy hand descended on her shoulder, making her jump.

“Merritt, I have an amazing idea,” Val announced.

Niall leaned forward. “What is it?”

Val beamed at him. “I want Merritt to make our wedding cake.”

“What?” Merritt squawked.

Niall raised a hand to his mouth. “Oh, honey, that’s an incredible idea!”

Merritt raised her hand. “Wait, wait! I’ve barely started learning how to⁠—”

“Babe.” Val grabbed his arm. “Did we finally agree on something about this wedding?”

Niall laughed. “We did.”

“Then it’s official.” Val turned to Merritt. “You’re making the cake.”

“Guys, I’m no good at it yet,” Merritt protested.

“It’ll be fine. By the time we have the wedding organized, you’ll be a pro.” Val slapped Merritt’s back so hard she nearly face planted in her beer.

Ylva snored as Liam drove back to Little Avalon, with Genevieve close behind. The valkyrie drooled on Merritt’s shoulder, her breath reeking, limp wings sprawled over the backseat.

“Ylva, get off,” Merritt complained, poking her.

Ylva snored louder. She was still asleep when they got home, and getting her up the stairs and into her bed was a feat, especially with Tetra’s and Tess’ drunken assistance. Merritt finally took the shoulders, and Liam got the feet. Merritt accidentally stood on Ylva’s wings twice before they bundled her into bed, rolled her onto her side, and propped her that way with pillows.

Liam was sweating. “She’ll be fine here.”

Tetra fell face-down on the bed and snored.

“You were no help.” Tess grabbed her arm and dragged her upright. “Why didn’t you use your levitititating dust?”

“Hehehe.” Tetra giggled. “Tit.”

“Merlin’s wings, you both suck. Let’s get out of here and leave her to sleep it off in peace. I hope Kenna has a full stock of Fernwood dew at the potions store.” Liam shepherded them outside.

Genevieve arrived as they stumbled out of the apartment building. She stopped in the garage, and Shadow’s happy barking resounded down the street as he welcomed his people home.

“Oh, wait. I live in that building, too.” Tess giggled. “You coming, Merritt?”

“I should fetch Akila from Amber and Aurelio’s. They can’t echinemon-sit all night.”

“Merritt!” Val leaned on Genevieve’s roof. “I need you over here for a minute! It’s important.”

“Night, Merritt. I’m escorting my sleepy wife to bed.” Liam smiled. “Good luck with your Lichenvale trip tomorrow. If you need anything, call me.”

“Thanks, Lee.” Merritt left him to deal with Qenzi and ambled next door. She followed a trail of open doors to the dining room. Shadow stood at the entrance to the smithy, wagging his tail.

Mom down there, he told her. Mom happy!

She’s drunk, buddy. Merritt rumpled his ears.

She descended the steps into the smithy and found Val standing by her workbench, grinning from ear to ear.

“Behold,” the duchess announced, extending an arm.

Fedir’s bow lay on the bench, apparently untouched. The elven runes still decorated the rich red and gold grain of the yew, and the bowstring pulled it into the elegant shape Merritt loved.

“Um, my bow?” Merritt raised her eyebrows.

“Exactly, but I fixed it.” Val giggled. “Go on. Pick it up.”

Merritt lifted it. Its weight was different, but she couldn’t spot anything new when she turned it over.

“Are you sure you worked on this, Val?” Merritt asked bluntly. “You’re pretty drunk.”

“I spent all night on it, bitch.” Val waved a hand. “Go on, take your male form. Oh, wait. One more thing.” She fumbled in a drawer and pulled out a blunt, pen-sized instrument with a selenite ball at the end. “Gotta put a rune on your soul. This one on the bow’s fine with you?”

Merritt’s heart skipped. “I’d love to have that as my rune.”

“Cool.” Val stumbled over and touched the rune cutter to Merritt’s chest where her dress’ neckline exposed her skin. Despite her boozy breath, Val’s hand was steady as she gently moved the selenite over Merritt’s skin. She felt no pain, only a pleasant warmth as the rune seated itself.

“Okay!” Val tossed the cutter back in the drawer. “Take your male form! It’ll work.”

Merritt wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen, but she stepped into the smithy’s center, where the roof would accommodate the male form’s height and transformed.

So did the bow.

Iron clanked within the bow as its wood shuddered. The grip expanded and swelled in Merritt’s enormous fist, filling his fingers. The bow’s arms unfolded, metal flashing, and became iron limbs. Cams grew from their ends and stretched into multiple bowstrings. A stabilizer sprouted above the grip, and a bowsight quietly clicked as it opened out from the riser.

Merritt’s jaw dropped. The gleaming yew was now a decorative inlay on the six-foot-long compound bow. State-of-the-art metals and glowing dwarven runes strengthened the whole shaft. He touched the bowstring, careful not to dry-fire it, and gently tested its tensile strength. It flexed at his touch, but he doubted most paranormals could move it an inch.

“So?” Val beamed. “What do you think?”

“Merlin’s beard, Val,” Merritt rumbled. “It shifts shape with me.”

“It’ll shift back when you take human form. Shifting back is quicker, which is a good thing because that bow weighs more than you do when you’re a girl. That was a complicated bit of magic to make it work, but it does.” Val looked around. “Oh, here’s a new quiver, too. I got it from the Frost Giants in Switzerland.”

She flung her arms around a quiver leaning against the wall and grunted with effort as she carried it over to Merritt, who grasped the broad leather strap and hooked it over his shoulder. The arrows within were the size of spears. Roc feathers fletched their ends.

“Good thing we have a roc to get feathers from now,” Val observed. “Don’t fire that thing in here, please. Your bow can punch one of those arrows through walls. You’ll knock down half the block.”

“Val, this is amazing.” Merritt lowered the bow. “Thank you.”

“The quiver will transform with you when you take your human form,” Val told him. “Then you’ll have regular-sized arrows to fire with the original bow.”

A lump gathered in Merritt’s throat. He hadn’t known that was possible in this form. “When did you have time for this?” He turned the bow left and right, admiring it in the red glow of the forge. “It is some of your best work, Val. You’re always busy. You...you must have spent hours and hours on this.”

He looked around. “Val?”

The duchess sprawled over the workbench open-mouthed, producing happy, boozy snores.

It was a testament to the OPMA’s diversity that Akila drew not a single curious glance as Merritt and Damian marched through the military wing’s halls toward the portal room. The echinemon tugged at her leash, lunging this way and that as she chased interesting new smells.

Merritt shortened the leash. “Easy, Akila.”

“I’m still not convinced she should come,” Damian grumbled.

“You’re the one who’s worried about safety. She saved my life, remember?”

Damian huffed. “I suppose that counts in her favor.”

“You suppose?”

They entered the portal room and Merritt slowed, looking at the dozens of portals. Damian strode across the room to one marked Mistwood North Garrison as though he’d known where it was.

Merritt jogged to catch up, using her free hand to flip her Mavka Elf hood over her head. “It’s a good day for another snowy escapade.”

“I haven’t forgiven you for the last one yet, so try not to piss me off.” Damian paused by the portal, and Akila rammed her nose into his ass, making him yelp.

“Um, we’re trying,” Merritt offered.

Damian snorted. “Sure you are. Okay, don’t be intimidated if the people we see are all armed to the teeth. This is one of the OPMA’s most remote garrisons, which means that if the shit hits the fan in Mistwood North, they have to wait longer than most places for reinforcements.”

“But there’s a portal right here.”

“Yes, a portal big enough for two or three paras to cross simultaneously. Do you know how long an army takes to get through one of these? Ask anyone who had to hold the line at New Camelot or Fernwood Deep.”

“That makes sense. It’s okay, though. I’ve been to the garrison.”

“You have?”

“It’s Wolf Glen’s nearest point of contact with the outside world. Not that the Mavka have much contact, but since Tetra mediated their conflict with the Ajatar Elves over the Girdle of Hippolyta, they occasionally go to the OPMA garrison if they need help. I often volunteered to be the messenger.”

“You’ll know the way to Wolf Glen well then,” Damian observed. “Good.”

Merritt shifted her weight. “I don’t get why we have to go to Wolf Glen before Lichenvale. They, um, don’t always welcome outsiders.”

“You’re not an outsider. You lived there for nearly a year.”

“Until they kicked me out. Let’s just skip it.”

Damian met her eyes. “You insisted we stop there so you could greet your friend.”

Merritt touched Fedir’s bow. It had shrunk to its original form as Val promised.

“Like you said, the Mavka don’t have much contact with the outside world. This is a prime opportunity for us to check in with them,” Damian added.

“I can’t believe you’re talking me into this,” Merritt mumbled.

“Contrary to popular belief, I believe in a peaceful and united world.”

“You’re right. We should go to Wolf Glen.” Merritt squared her shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

Damian’s fingers brushed her shoulder as they approached the portal. “I know this will be a hard day for you, but you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Merritt smiled at him. “I know.”

They stepped through the portal, and Damian grabbed her arm like he expected the wave of portal sickness that washed over her. The firm grip helped her adjust faster. She experienced only a few seconds of spinning nausea before her vision cleared and her boots crunched on salted cobblestones. Battlemented walls rose around them, and round towers jutted against the gray sky on either side. It wasn’t snowing yet, but the leaden clouds promised it would soon.

Damian released her arm. “Agent Damian Radu.” He flipped open a leather-covered ID. “This is Guardian Merritt Vale. We’re on a sanctioned mission to Lichenvale.”

The two navy-clad fae guarding the entrance both saluted. Akila tried to sniff the crotch of one. Merritt had to haul her back.

“We’re expecting you, sir and ma’am,” one told them. “Please come with me. We’ve provided the transport you requested.”

Merritt stuck by Damian’s side as they crossed the inner ward. Soldiers marched along the battlements, their rifles and bows ready in their hands. The iron portcullis glowed with runes. “Security’s tighter than the last time I was here.”

“Yes, ma’am. Alecto’s appearance has us all a little jumpy.”

“Alecto’s dead,” Merritt pointed out. “I killed her.”

The fae eyed Merritt’s petite body. “Yes, ma’am, but like they say, there’s never only one Fury.”

“True that.”

“Here you are.” The fae paused by a row of machines parked against the wall. “The LRTVs you requested.”

“LRTVs?” Merritt echoed.

“Levitating Rapid Transit Vehicles.” Damian rubbed his hands. “Nothing crosses snow like these babies.”

Merritt was offended on behalf of the elk she’d ridden in Wolf Glen, but she had to admit that the machines looked fast. Their shape suggested an ATV or a snowmobile, but they had neither wheels nor skis but rested on metal stands. Damian swung back his trench coat to mount the nearest one and touched the start button below the handlebars.

Instead of growling to life, it hummed with magic. Blue light seeped through the cracks and crackled over its belly. The LRTV rose from its stand and hovered a few feet off the ground.

“Levitating is pretty cool,” Merritt conceded.

Akila sniffed the nearest one, tail twitching.

“The supplies for the Mavka, sir.” Another guard marched up with a black plastic crate, which he secured to the back of Damian’s LRTV.

“Grab yours, and let’s get going.” Damian backed away.

Merritt released Akila and stuffed the leash in her pocket. She had to perform a humiliating hop to get on the LRTV, but its leather seat was surprisingly comfortable. She closed her hands around the handlebars. “Like this?”

“Yep. They’re pretty intuitive. Use the handlebars to turn left or right. Squeeze the left handle to go faster and the right one to go slower or back up,” Damian instructed.

Merritt started the vehicle and gripped the right handle. The LRTV vibrated as it rose, but the motion was so smooth that she barely noticed it had lifted off its stand. It slowly hovered backward. “Awesome.”

Damian turned his LRTV toward the portcullis. “Open the gate, soldier. We’ll be back.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier touched her ear to use her telepathic chip.

The portcullis rose with a clank. Merritt squeezed the left handle, and her LRTV followed Damian’s out of the garrison. Akila led the way and plunged into the snow, disappearing into a snowdrift. Squeals of delight marked her passage as she tunneled beneath the snow.

“Think she can keep up?” Damian asked.

Merritt laughed. “That’s a silly question.”

Damian inclined his head. “You know the way to Wolf Glen. Where do we go?”

Merritt scanned the woods. Mistwood North was bigger than the other forests in Avalon, Fernwood Deep and the Resurrected Woods. Her vantage point on the hill that held the garrison showed her snow-dusted pine trees as far as she could see in every direction, filled with creatures and cultures so mysterious that the Eternity Throne didn’t know they existed.

Delight rushed through her. This is my home. The tide of elation lifted her heart. “This way!” she cried, turning the LRTV’s left handle.

“Careful…” Damian’s yell receded into the distance.

The LRTV shot forward far faster than Merritt had expected. She gasped and clung to the handles, which made it go even faster, leaving a streak of blue light in its wake. Merritt turned the handlebar to try to get the LRTV onto the deer trail that led to Wolf Glen, but its speed made it unwieldy, and a gigantic pine tree rushed to meet her.

Akila’s furry body slammed into Merritt’s left thigh, knocking the LRTV off course. It dipped, wobbled, and flipped onto its side. Merritt lost her grip, and the vehicle stopped dead. She landed face-first in a snowdrift.

“Merritt! Oh, shit. Merritt!”

Merritt tried to assure him that she was okay, but her mouth was full of snow. Akila’s teeth closed around her ankle, and the echinemon dragged her out of the snowdrift.

Damian crouched beside her. “Merritt!”

Merritt spat out snow, giggling hysterically. Damian flipped her onto her back and put his hands on her shoulders. The horror on his face swiftly turned to annoyance.

“That was amazing!” Merritt couldn’t stop giggling. “Let’s do that again!”

“Merlin’s puckered asshole.” Damian stood. “I wish you’d never been born.”

“Sure you do.” Merritt bounced up. “Where’s my machine?”

“You should walk to Wolf Glen.”

“Nonsense.” Merritt hauled the LRTV out of the snowbank. “This is so much fun.”

Damian remounted his vehicle. “Okay, but if you crash into a deer and kill it, you’ll feel bad.”

“Relax, Damian. I’ll be careful this time. I’m aware that Akila saved my ass. Didn’t you, clever girl?” Merritt cooed at the echinemon.

Akila twitched her tail. Snow covered every inch of her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Eternity Throne’s delegation to Wolf Glen,” Damian muttered.

Merritt scrambled onto her LRTV and gently pressed the left handle. It smoothly moved forward, and at this pace, steering was easy. She aimed it down the trail toward Wolf Glen.

The snow was packed hard from the passage of deer, elk, and moose, so Akila ran effortlessly behind Merritt’s LRTV as it hummed down the trail. The vehicle’s silence and openness made it possible to enjoy every familiar sight and sound in the woods from the chirp of a robin fluttering between the trees to the soft caress of the wind on her face to the thrum of magic in the pine trees’ sap. Copper flashed among the undergrowth as a red fox vanished into the woods.

“Beautiful here, isn’t it?” Merritt murmured.

“It has its appeal. Cold, though,” Damian observed.

“You okay back there?” Merritt glanced back. “Warm enough?”

“Merritt, I’m a vampire. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah.” Merritt giggled. “Ever met a Mavka Elf?”

“No, I haven’t. Not many paras have.”

“They’re hunter-gatherers with great respect for the woods. Don’t hurt their elk since they’re not only beasts of burden but companions and revered friends. Don’t mention the Ajatar, who’ve been their enemies for centuries. Wolves are sacred to the Mavka, too, although they hunt them for their pelts and as a rite of passage.”

“How do I address their leader?”

“‘Chief.’ Unless things have changed in the last few months, it’s Chief Myleksa. She’s stern, but she’s not a bad person.”

“She’s the one who booted you out of Wolf Glen.”

“Yeah, but I respect her. She did what she had to for her people. Besides, if she hadn’t, I would never have come to Little Avalon and met wonderful, sweet people like you.” Merritt smirked.

“You’re so funny.”

“Thank you!”

The trail crossed a frozen river. Their LRTVs navigated it without disturbing the ice. Akila leaped from rock to rock beside them. The trail widened on the other side of the river, and Damian drew level with Merritt as they sped through the woods, trees flitting by on either side.

When Merritt heard the burble of the stream to her left, she squeezed the LRTV’s right handle to stop it.

“It’s best if we ditch these here.” She wiped snow off her freezing face. “The Mavka aren’t used to technology. It might be disruptive.”

“Agreed. Let’s keep our phones with us but put them on silent,” Damian suggested.

Merritt fiddled with her phone’s settings and tucked it into her tunic. Akila panted, her tongue a startling pink against their white and gray surroundings. Damian unloaded the plastic crate from the LRTV and hefted it with both hands.

“Let me do the talking when we get there.” Merritt tucked her hands into her fur-lined pockets.

“I’m an OPMA special agent, Merritt. I’ve got this.”

“Trust me, okay? I know these people.” Merritt whistled to Akila. “Follow me, girl. No chasing the elk.”

Akila bounded ahead, churning up flurries of snow as Merritt and Damian trudged down the trail. When they rounded a massive dryad, its branches gray and dormant, Wolf Glen lay in the clearing ahead. A half-moon of woods wrapped around the village like protective arms and the stream twisted to run across its façade. The low bridge over the stream consisted of rough-hewn logs lashed together.

“Here we are,” Merritt declared. “My home before Little Avalon, for a given value of ‘home.’”

CHAPTER TEN

Damian’s fists clenched, his breath steaming. “These are the people who kicked you out.”

“They had good reasons, Mister Protective. Don’t make it weird.” Merritt mock punched his arm.

Elk grazed on bundles of hay in the paddocks with woven thorn and branch fences that surrounded the village. The cozy log homes clustered around a longhouse in the center, the pale skull of a huge elk dominating its entrance. Mavka Elves wandered through the spaces in between, carrying firewood, skinning deer, and shaping stones as arrowheads and daggers. They wore wolfskin-lined tunics and deerskin boots like Merritt’s, but that was where the similarity ended. The tall people had long white hair, which they wore in braids behind their pointed ears.

One sat alone near the bridge, doodling on a precious parchment with a piece of charcoal. He wore large round glasses with shocking orange rims.

“Those glasses don’t fit in,” Damian remarked.

“His mother took him to the clinic at the garrison we came from because she thought he was blind and wouldn’t survive in the woods. Turns out his vision is crappy, but he’s fine with glasses. No one approves.” Merritt smiled. “That’s Fedir. He is the only friend I had here.”

“Fedir? The one who made your bow?”

“That’s the one.” Merritt’s steps quickened. “Hey, Fedir!”

The young elf’s head snapped up and swiveled to her. Color flooded his wan face as he scrambled to his feet, abandoning his drawing. “Manniref!”

“’Manniref?’” Damian raised an eyebrow.

Merritt held out her arms. Fedir sprinted across the bridge, his bow legs churning, and slammed into her. He flung his slender arms around her and hugged her.

The emotion that rose in Merritt’s throat when she embraced him surprised her. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Oh, Manniref, I’m so g-g-g-glad you came b-b-back!” Fedir released her and grinned. “You’re still carrying your bow!”

“It’s saved more than a few lives.” Merritt smiled.

“I love your new hair. The red suits you. So do the eyes.”

“Thanks. The new glasses are cute.”

“Mother hates the orange, and the chief almost had me exiled b-b-because of it, but Father talked her down.” Fedir tilted his head, a veil of white hair shrouding his shoulder. “You look different, Manniref, but in a g-g-g-good way.”

“My new home has been wonderful for me. I belong there. It’s amazing.” Merritt stepped back. “This is my friend Damian.”

Before she could prompt him, Damian folded his hands in the Mavka greeting and bowed. “Good hunting to you, Fedir. It’s my honor to meet you.”

“G-good hunting.” Fedir beamed. “I’m very happy Manniref has a friend in her new home. Seems like you’re thriving.”

“I am, finally.” Merritt grasped his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, though.”

Fedir’s face fell. “Me too. Things aren’t the same here without you.”

Boots rang on the bridge, and Fedir whipped around. A cold pang ran through Merritt’s belly. She gripped Akila’s collar in a shaking hand as the chief of the Mavka Elves marched toward them.

Chief Myleksa would have been intimidating even if she wasn’t so tall. She was a vision in ice: cold, sharp, and breathtakingly beautiful. Her blue eyes scorched Merritt’s soul. Her long black wolfskin cloak didn’t hide the swaying white braids that reached her heels. She carried a stone knife on her hip, its gray surface shot through with blue quartz. “Manniref!”

A crowd of Mavka Elves gathered by the bridge, not daring to cross. Several pointed and gasped when they saw Merritt and Damian.

The vampire stepped closer to her. Merritt held her ground as Akila’s hackles rose.

“Why have you returned?” Myleksa demanded. “I sent you away months ago.”

Merritt met the chief’s eyes. “I’m here as a friend, Myleksa. I’ve brought gifts from the Eternity Throne.”

Damian held out the crate. “We know the Mavka are self-sufficient. These are gestures of goodwill, not supplies for the needy. We brought gemstones, paper, and a new medicine that might help your older elk with their joints.”

Myleksa’s glittering eyes held Merritt’s. “Take the gift, Fedir.”

“Yes, Chief.” The young elf hurried to grab the crate.

Myleksa didn’t look away. Neither did Merritt. Myleksa’s stare amounted to dick-measuring, and it shocked her. Myleksa was treating her as a potential equal.

“You’ve grown, Manniref,” the chief murmured.

Merritt smiled. “My name is Merritt Vale now. I am the Guardian of Little Avalon.”

“Guardian?” Myleksa blinked. “You have a title?”

“As I told Fedir, I belong in my new home.”

Myleksa stared at her coldly for another second. Then a smile blossomed on the chief’s face, and she slapped Merritt on the shoulder. “It is good to see you strong and victorious, Merritt Vale. You are welcome in Wolf Glen.”

“Thank you, Chief, but I only came to bring these gifts and say hello to Fedir. I’m on a quest to Lichenvale to learn more about my lost people.”

“Very well.” Myleksa inclined her head. “Then you may⁠—”

“No. You must stay a while.” The cry came from within the village.

Merritt’s jaw dropped when an elf shoved her way to the front of the crowd.

Yulietta’s chin jutted out as she marched to the front of the group. “Manniref.” Tears glittered in her eyes. She strode across the bridge and held out her hands. “We didn’t part well, but I’ve missed you every moment of the months you’ve been away.”

“You have?” Merritt managed.

“I was too hard on you when you lived here. I thought I could bully you into being happy with us. With me.” Yulietta blinked rapidly. “You know why the chief placed you with me, right?”

Merritt bit her lip. “Because you had no children of your own.”

“What no one told you is that I cannot have children of my own.” Yulietta’s tone softened. “I didn’t show it well, but I love you, Merritt.”

The lump in Merritt’s throat swelled. Why had she not seen how much these elves cared about her? She took Yulietta’s hands. “You were better to me than my other foster parents. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“We didn’t treat you like one of us, and we should have.” Yulietta’s jaw clenched. “Chief Myleksa, if Merritt were one of our hunters returning from an expedition in triumph and with gifts, we would hold a feast. That is what she deserves.”

“It’s fine. Really. I have somewhere to be,” Merritt protested.

The chief inclined her head. “Yulietta is right. We were unfair to you, Merritt Vale. Petro and Yevgen came clean about the stories Neven told and what he did to sabotage you. We owe you this honor.”

Merritt glanced at Damian, who nodded to say, “Go ahead.”

“Stay with us for a night,” Myleksa commanded. “Let us honor you with a feast.”

“Feast! Feast! Feast!” Several children started the chant, and the entire village joined in.

“Okay, okay.” Merritt grinned. “Who am I to stand in the way of a feast?”

Yulietta squeezed her hands, and Fedir cheered. Myleksa led the way, and Merritt walked back into Wolf Glen. The village welcomed her with open arms.

The longhouse was lit by the flames from the firepit that ran down its center. Elves sat cross-legged on the furs piled around the fire, holding bowls of venison stew so hearty that Merritt felt faintly sick after devouring a bowl. The sweet vegetables floating amid floury potatoes in the savory sauce, accompanied by large chunks of chewy meat, were irresistible.

“I want more, but I also kind of want to throw up,” she confided to Damian.

The vampire sank his fangs into a potato. “Same,” he told her with his mouth full.

“That’s how you know you’re enjoying the food.” Yulietta patted Merritt’s knee.

Fedir sat beside her. “You made sure they sent paper, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Merritt mopped the dregs of the stew from the bowl with a piece of bread.

Fedir grinned. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“More wine?” Damian asked. Someone had handed him a stone jug of the stuff, which he sloshed into his wooden cup with abandon.

“Please.” Merritt held her cup out.

The wine was both sharp and sweet, and it sent an instant buzz through her blood. She made a mental note to buy a barrel for Tetra on the way back from Lichenvale.

Lichenvale. Her belly knotted at the thought of tomorrow’s journey, and the amulet’s weight dragged her pocket down like it was a bowling ball.

“Tell me, Merritt Vale.” Myleksa leaned forward, facing the Leshbolg over the shimmering heat from the coals. “As Guardian of Little Avalon, is it your task to confront threats to this duchy you’ve told us about?”

“Partially. Val mostly handles external trouble. I deal with internal issues like managing new projects, smoothing out conflicts between residents, and helping newcomers integrate into our community.”

“Smoothing out conflicts.” Myleksa sat back. “You have become a diplomat?”

Merritt didn’t know how to answer, but Damian did. “Yes, she has,” he told the chief. “Merritt is excellent at conflict resolution. I’ve seen her unite and make peace between paras I expected to kill each other. She has a way of getting to the root of conflicts instead of simply addressing the cause.”

“She does, does she?” Myleksa rubbed her chin. “In that case, I need your help.”

Merritt blinked. “You need my help?”

“Indeed.” Myleksa sipped her wine. “I sent you out of this village, Merritt, but I can see what your vampire friend means about you and conflict. Even here, you were capable of making friends with most. Do you remember when the physician at the garrison prescribed Fedir’s eyeglasses?”

Fedir self-consciously touched his spectacles. Several elves scowled at him.

“You persuaded us that it was good and necessary, though such things were unheard of in Wolf Glen.” Myleksa paused. “We need your abilities now. The Ajatar are at our throats, and I fear it will erupt into war unless we find a resolution quickly.”

Merritt glanced at Fedir, who stared fixedly into his stew. His father had fallen to an Ajatar arrow, as had so many of the Mavka.

“Too many elves have already died fighting the Ajatar,” Merritt observed.

“Indeed, but we will not capitulate. Wolf Glen is ours.” Myleksa slammed a clenched fist on the table.

“What caused this latest conflict?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know.” Myleksa sighed. “We were at peace until a few weeks ago when an Ajatar raiding party attacked several of our hunters in the woods. They were bold and capable warriors.” She paused. “They killed Neven.”

Merritt sat back. “Myleksa, I’m so sorry.”

The chief averted her eyes. “Why would you be? He caused your exile.”

“I didn’t control my powers. I caused my own exile. Neven was an asshat, we all know that, but he was your son.”

A muscle jumped in Myleksa’s jaw as she struggled for control. “Indeed he was, and he died the hero I never expected him to be, defending his hunting party. We led a raid on their village the next day. I fought the chief’s daughter and slaughtered her before her mother’s eyes.”

Merritt’s stomach dropped. “Did they retaliate?”

The fire left Myleksa’s eyes. “They did. So will we. The last time this happened, it went on for centuries, and dozens of Mavka Elves died. We are not many, Merritt, and this trouble with the Ajatar has already thinned our ranks. I fear it might end us.”

“You’ve both suffered terrible losses, but the Ajatar aren’t evil or dark mages. Fighting them is hurting both of you.”

Myleksa inclined her head. “Your ability to see the bigger picture might bring peace between us once more. The Ajatar called a council tomorrow morning at the Stone Ring. It will become a bloodbath, as these councils always do, unless we have an objective mediator. Like you.”

Merritt finished her wine. “Sounds great. I’ll be there.”

Damian sprayed wine across the table. “Excuse me?”

“Did you expect me to say no?”

“Did you hear the part about the bloodbath?”

“It won’t happen if I’m there. That’s the point.”

“You don’t know that!”

Merritt patted his knee. “Try to stop me, D.”

Damian groaned. “I have, repeatedly. That’s why I know it never works.”

Myleksa raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to discuss this with your companion, Merritt?”

“I don’t. He’s on board.” Merritt grinned. “We’ll attend the council tomorrow. I look forward to it!”

“I categorically do not,” Damian growled into his cup and drained it.

It had been a while since Merritt’s last ride on an elk, but her muscles hadn’t forgotten how to balance on the creature’s broad back. His antlers spread before her, their elegant shape mimicking the bare tree branches surrounding them as they rode in single file toward the Stone Ring. Despite the snow, the elk moved gracefully. Merritt barely rocked on his back as he walked.

She petted the deliciously thick fur on his neck, but seized a fistful when the elk started and jumped sideways. Akila burst onto the trail from a snowdrift, and the elk shook herself violently, showering everything with powdery snow.

“Shit!” Damian growled.

Merritt glanced back. The vampire clung white-knuckled to the saddle of the sedate old cow elk he rode. “You good back there?”

“Fine,” Damian managed. “I preferred the LRTV.”

“The Ajatar are primitive,” Merritt scolded. “We’re not supposed to reveal tech like that to them.”

“I know, but it doesn’t spook at random noises. That’s all I’m saying.”

Several other elves were in Myleksa’s retinue, armed experienced hunters. Yulietta rode among them, smiling more than Merritt ever remembered her doing.

“Behold,” Myleksa announced. “The Stone Circle.”

The chief rode her magnificent bull elk into the meeting place. Merritt followed. She’d never been allowed to join elven meetings at the Stone Circle, but she’d heard stories of its strong magic and mysterious architecture. Its power hummed over her skin, raising goosebumps, as the elk stepped between the jagged uncut stones that stood like a crown on the hilltop. Morning sunlight filled the empty space at the center, and the dark woods crowded close to the stones.

Akila got the zoomies and raced in wild figure eights around the open space, tail low, yipping with excitement.

Myleksa stroked her elk’s neck. Her retinue spread out on their side of the circle, hands near their weapons. Hawk feathers decorated their hair, signaling their readiness for war.

“Keep them calm, Myleksa,” Merritt muttered. “They won’t listen to me.”

“This time, the Mavka will not strike first. I will make sure of that.”

Merritt shortened the leather reins as her elk’s head shot up. The Ajatar were coming. Akila sensed them, too. She bounded to Merritt’s side and stood at her elk’s feet, hackles rising. “Easy, girl,” Merritt whispered.

A moose burst from the undergrowth, his splendid antlers snapping branches. His rider jerked his red rope reins, making him rear with a bellow of protest. He pawed the air with cloven hooves the size of dinner plates. When he thudded to the ground, steam jetted from his nostrils. His rider’s black eyes glittered between dark circles of war paint. She brandished a club made from a moose femur and bellowed, “The Ajatar have arrived!”

Merritt recognized her as the bogeyman in every Mavka child’s nightmares, Chief Aada.

More moose galloped into the circle, their riders whooping and yammering. They wore their brown hair short and spiky, proudly displaying the tattoos decorating the backs of their necks. Each waved a bone club with a leather-wrapped grip. Their moose bore woven saddle pads, bright and incongruous against the snow.

Myleksa’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t,” Merritt warned. “They’re just posturing. They’ll attack if you do.”

The elf’s hand strayed toward her dagger.

“Myleksa, are you really interested in peace?” Merritt snapped. “If not, I’m leaving.”

The chief exhaled and dropped her hand to her elk’s reins.

The Ajatar settled after a few moments’ display. Their leader on the bull moose rode to the front of the group, club still in her hand. “We agreed to this council as a courtesy, Mavka filth,” Chief Aada shouted.

Myleksa bared her teeth but kept her hands on the reins.

“You have one last opportunity to return what you took from us before we raze Wolf Glen to the ground!” Aada brandished her club as the rest of her group cheered and howled. Their moose tossed their antlers and pawed the ground.

“We took nothing from you!” Myleksa barked. “We are not thieves. Mavka honor is untainted and untouchable.”

“Lies!” Aada thundered. “You are butchers! You killed my daughter!”

“You killed my son!”

“I will kill the sons and daughters of every Mavka for what you did!”

“No, you won’t.” Merritt’s words rang across the clearing. She nudged her elk forward and rode into the center, breaking the chiefs’ line of sight. “If that was your plan, you would not have called this council. You want to talk. You can’t afford another drawn-out war with the Mavka. The last one nearly destroyed both your species.”

Aada’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“I am Merritt Vale, a guardian in a distant land.”

“Ha!” Aada snorted. “You Mavka speak of your honor, but you sully yourselves by seeking allegiance with other peoples!”

“I am no ally of the Mavka.” Merritt raised her chin. “I am an advocate for peace. I am not aligned with either of you but with the truth.”

Aada sneered. “Then you shall fight with us against these Mavka. They grievously wronged us.”

“I will fight no one, but I will listen. Tell us exactly what happened. There has to be a solution that doesn’t involve killing each other.”

Aada scoffed. “She knows what she did.” A whooping war cry rose from the other Ajatar.

Merritt turned her elk sideways to both groups. “Chief Myleksa, are you aware of any alleged trespass against the Ajatar?”

“I am not!” Myleksa tossed her braids. “I have stayed away from them. I have no desire for more bloodshed, but make no mistake. If you touch another hair on the head of one of my elves⁠—”

Merritt interrupted. “She is unaware of wronging you, Chief Aada.”

The Ajatar all laughed, the sound ringing in the circle like hyenas’ cackles.

“If you have no interest in civil discussion, this council is pointless.” Merritt wheeled her elk around. “Good luck with the battle, everyone.”

“Wait,” Aada barked.

Merritt halted the elk.

“Wait.” The Ajatar gritted her teeth. “You must know what you did, Myleksa. It was at your hand that the moose died.”

“What moose? I’ve killed hundreds of moose,” Myleksa snapped. “They feed my village for weeks.”

Aada sneered. “This was no ordinary moose. You knew that.”

Merritt backed her elk up so Myleksa and Aada could face each other.

Aada lowered the club. “You must know. You killed him and put his pelt on the floor in your longhouse as a trophy.” Her voice cracked.

Myleksa blinked. “Surely you do not speak of the spotted moose?”

The Ajatar tipped their heads up and howled like wolves, but the sound held none of the fury it had earlier. This was a mournful song that chilled Merritt’s bones.

“Of what else do I speak? The Spotted Moose brings fortune and favor to all creatures in Mistwood North,” Aada hissed. “He blesses the forest as he walks through it on holy hooves. You butchered him like a common deer, fed his meat to your children, and threw his pelt on your floor to warm your feet.”

The Ajatar howled again.

Myleksa waved an arm. “How was I to know that your people treasure the Spotted Moose? Its coat stood out against the others, so it was the easiest shot in the herd! I killed it to feed my people, not to offend yours!”

“You did more than offend the Ajatar; you desecrated what we hold dear. You will pay for your crimes!”

“Enough!” Merritt snapped.

Aada’s face was a stone mask, but she held her restless moose back when he wanted to charge.

“I will speak with Myleksa alone.” Merritt wheeled her elk around and grabbed the chief’s bridle, towing her out of the Stone Circle and onto the trail.

“Where are we going? I will not turn my back on this fight!” Myleksa protested.

“Shhh!” Merritt stopped both elk. “Myleksa, do you know what this means?”

“It means those accursed Ajatar killed Neven because of a moose whose coat they like.”

“You’re aware that it goes deeper than that.” Merritt raised an eyebrow. “Or did you forget that you exiled me because I screwed up one of your traditions?”

“The Wolf Hunt is different.”

“It’s no more important to you than the Spotted Moose is to them. You can easily make this right without placing any more of your people in more danger.”

“How?” Myleksa snapped.

Merritt squared her shoulders. “Send a warrior to fetch that moose pelt and give it back to Aada with an apology.”

“An apology? I have nothing to apologize for.”

“You didn’t know what the moose meant to them, but you killed it.”

“It was just a moose!”

“Not to the Ajatar.”

“I’m not an Ajatar.”

“No,” Merritt snapped, “and as long as you think like that and keep seeing the Ajatar as ‘other,’ this cycle will continue. Your son and Aada’s daughter and dozens of other sons and daughters butchered over misunderstandings that a simple apology could resolve. Which one is more important to you, your pride or your people’s lives?”

Myleksa gaped as though she hadn’t thought Merritt was capable of using that tone.

Merritt lowered her voice. “How many more Nevens need to die?”

Myleksa’s larynx bobbed as she gulped.

“This can be a new era for the Mavka and the Ajatar. The end of the bloodshed.”

Myleksa’s shoulders tightened. Merritt had never noticed the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes before. Perhaps they’d always been there, or perhaps they’d appeared in the weeks since Neven’s death.

“Myleksa—” she began.

Myleksa seized her elk’s reins and wheeled the beast around. It snorted in surprise as she booted it back into the circle’s center.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Merritt rode after her.

The Mavka chief didn’t reach for her weapon, though Aada raised hers in anticipation of the fight.

“I killed the Spotted Moose.” Myleksa tossed her head, braids writhing over her elk’s haunches. “It is true.”

“Destroy her! Slit her throat!” one of the Ajatar screamed.

Aada gestured sharply, and her people fell silent.

“I was not aware that the Spotted Moose has profound meaning to the Ajatar. It would be as though the Ajatar killed a mother wolf with suckling cubs. A terrible crime,” Myleksa went on. “I wronged your people without knowing it.”

Go on, Merritt urged. Don’t stop now.

There was a long silence that stretched like a taut bowstring.

Myleksa broke it. “I humbly apologize for my crime against your people.”

Aada blinked. Merritt suddenly found it easier to breathe.

“I cannot bring back the Spotted Moose, but Mavka feet will no longer trample his remains.” Myleksa bowed her head. “I will return the pelt to your people for burial in accordance with your customs.”

Aada stared at Myleksa for another instant, then swung the club into its sheath on her back. “The Ajatar accept your apology. May no more blood be shed between our tribes.”

“No more blood,” Myleksa echoed.

The Ajatar threw their heads back and howled again, this time in celebration. With one voice, the Mavka did the same.

“Merlin’s wings.” Damian gaped. “Well done, Merritt. I didn’t think Myleksa would listen to you.”

Yulietta pushed her elk between them. “Myleksa would not have listened to Manniref.” Her smile lit her eyes. “But Merritt Vale, Guardian of Little Avalon, has won our respect.”

Akila lay across the front of the LRTV, her chin resting on Merritt’s knee. The echinemon slept blissfully as the LRTV hummed through the woods, following Damian’s flapping trench coat as he drove ahead.

“We’re getting there,” he called over his shoulder.

Merritt’s ass ached from perching on the machine. The noonday sun shone through the trees in the rare moments it emerged from behind fat gray clouds that promised more snow later. Her wolfskin hood tickled her face as the landscape rolled on around them, endless snow, endless trees, with the occasional flurry in the bushes or strangely shaped footprints pointing to the presence of hidden magic.

“How much farther?”

Damian checked the phone mount on the front of the LRTV. “Another twenty minutes if this thing is correct, which it might not be. The signal isn’t great in Mistwood North. Are you feeling anything yet? Any Leshbolg magic?”

“None.”

“It’s okay. You will soon.”

Merritt wasn’t as sure. Her senses were acute. Why hadn’t she picked up on anything yet?

A few moments later, Damian slowed. “There! Right there!”

Merritt felt a faint prickle of magic through her palms before she spotted it. A splash of green showed through the snow: a single birch tree with brilliant summer foliage. The leaves were vibrant compared to the dark pine trees surrounding it.

“That’s Leshbolg magic, isn’t it?” Damian eagerly asked.

Merritt drove her LRTV up to the tree and extended a hand. Its leaves emitted only the faintest crackle of power. “I think so, but it’s muted. It feels dull and weak.”

“It’s okay. You’ll feel more when we get into Lichenvale.”

Merritt’s heart fluttered with hope.

More bits of green showed up along the trail as they rode. A single morning glory bloomed purple, its green tendrils wrapped around a dead pine tree half-buried in snow. Between two ice-covered boulders, a patch of snowdrops opened their shy eyes. At the edge of a frozen stream, a strip of green grass grew. The deer lying contentedly in the grass watched them go with fearless eyes.

But these occasional bursts of life were few and far between.

Finally, the navigation app led them up a hill and into a stand of pine trees so dense that only a sprinkling of snow reached the damp leaf litter beneath their boughs. Damian halted his LRTV and dismounted.

“Here we are.” He grinned. “Lichenvale.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Merritt stopped the vehicle, and Akila awoke. The echinemon jumped off and sniffed the brown pine needles as Merritt stumbled off the LRTV and to the copse’s edge.

Her heart felt like a block of ice. “Are you sure this is it?”

“Why?” Damian’s face fell. “Isn’t it how you remember?”

A noose tightened around Merritt’s throat. “No.”

The ground sloped away at the edge of the trees, stretching down the flanks of the river valley that ran like a great tear through the silent woods. Only a faint murmur came from the river at the bottom as it flowed beneath the thick layer of ice that covered it. The rest of the valley was almost featureless, buried so deeply in the snow that only a few green branches protruded from the thick, cold blanket.

Merritt saw no signs that anyone had ever lived here. Merlin had told her that Lichenvale was in ruins after the massacre, but she hadn’t expected this.

She didn’t realize there were tears on her cheeks until Damian touched her shoulder.

“It used to be green.” The words would barely come through her clenched throat. “I don’t remember much but I remember it was…it was green. It was alive, Damian.”

“Do you recognize any landmarks?” Damian asked.

“What landmarks? All I see is snow.” Merritt dragged the back of her hand over her eyes. “Wait! There, by the bend in the river. Is that a tree?”

Damian squinted. “It’s a huge-ass tree.”

Pressure crushed Merritt’s chest. “I saw that tree in a memory.”

“Let’s check it out.” Damian remounted his LRTV. “Let Akila ride with you. These snowdrifts could be a dozen feet deep.”

The LRTVs effortlessly skimmed over the snow. Only the tracks of tiny animals like voles and rabbits marred the surface. Merritt’s heart thudded as they neared the tree she’d glimpsed on the riverbend. It had to be the tree from her memories. Its branches suggested it was a willow. The trunk was broader than Merritt’s apartment, and its branches were encased in a layer of sparkling ice.

She halted her LRTV below its mighty crown, and the memory sent a bolt of lightning to her heart.

Everything was green and alive. Thick grass covered the riverbank. Bulrushes, fragrant reeds, and enormous lily pads graced the slow-moving river, supporting tiny birds and chirping frogs. The tree was alive with birds, squirrels, and winged hedgehogs that fluttered from one branch to the next, sampling nectar from its fist-sized flowers.

On a branch, Merritt lay on her belly with her hands propped under her chin, watching one of the fluttering hedgehogs. The wings protruding between its spines were dragonfly-delicate, and it clutched the petals of a nearby flower with tiny pink paws as it dipped its nose within.

Humminghog. The name came back to her, then another name: the Tree of Living Waters.

Merritt tipped her head back to gaze at the dappled sunlight filtering between the tree’s green branches. It was warm and wonderful on her skin.

A giggle floated to her from between the branches. She saw a second Leshbolg, a girl with curly moss for hair and skin as pale as starlight.

“Catch me if you can, Manniref!” she called.

Merritt giggled and swung off her branch. “I’m coming to get you!”

“No, you’re not.” This was a lower voice. A bark-skinned giant unfurled from beside the tree’s trunk. The male Leshbolg grinned, displaying stone teeth, and grabbed Merritt by the arm.

She squealed, laughed, and tried to escape. The male’s chuckles filled her world as she wriggled free and leaped to the next branch, carefree.

The memory faded. Merritt was huddled on her LRTV in the blowing snow, staring at a tree shrouded in ice.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to hold back tears, but didn’t succeed. They spilled over before she could stop them, and ugly sobs tore through her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Oh, Merritt.” Damian steered his LRTV close to her. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Damian,” Merritt choked out. “How can it ever be okay?”

Akila whined in her lap and licked Merritt’s cheeks. Damian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He was cold and bony, but Merritt appreciated the thought.

He rubbed her arm. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s not okay. Mordred massacred your people. I’m so sorry.”

Merritt gulped.

Damian’s arm tightened around her. “Don’t hold it in. It won’t do you any good.”

“That’s surprisingly emotionally intelligent of you,” Merritt croaked.

Damian huffed. “I can be nice.”

Merritt giggled, and the giggle turned into more sobs. Damian said nothing until the sobs stopped and she dragged her sleeves over her eyes to dry them.

“Should’ve brought tissues,” he observed.

Merritt sniffed loudly.

“Disgusting,” he commented.

“You’re no help.” Merritt punched his chest, then wrapped her arms around Akila and hugged the echinemon close.

Damian let go of her. “You remembered something, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I...” Merritt inhaled, composing herself. “I remembered my siblings.”

“Siblings?”

“I didn’t know I had any. One was in female form, the other in male form. I don’t remember their names, but I remember that I loved them.”

Damian’s face twisted. “I’m sorry, Merritt.”

“They’re gone now. Everyone’s gone.”

The wind howled between the frozen branches of the tremendous willow.

“I remember the tree’s name, too.” Merritt extended a hand and gently touched the nearest branch, feeling only slippery ice. “It’s called the Tree of Living Waters. It was important to my people, but I don’t remember why.”

“You’re making great progress.”

“Thanks.” Merritt rubbed her nose. “I almost wish I wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because when I remember what this place used to be, it seems even deader now.” Merritt trailed her fingers through the snow. “I thought this place would still be magical, but it’s nothing like it used to be. My people made it magical, Damian.” She wrestled with her voice. “And they’re gone.”

“Hey, they’re not all gone.” Damian offered a smile. “You’re here. There’s finally a Leshbolg in Lichenvale again.”

“That’s true, but I can’t make it magical again.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ve seen what you can do in Little Avalon. I wouldn’t underestimate you.”

Merritt squeezed Akila tighter. The echinemon didn’t protest. “I guess we should focus.” She let go of Akila and fished in her pocket for the amulet. “We’re here to figure out what the Furies want with this.”

When she extended it toward the Tree of Living Waters, it buzzed in her hand. The vibration was so slight she barely felt it, but feeble green light flushed beneath the gnarled wood.

Merritt gasped and snatched it back. “Did you see that?”

Damian leaned closer. “Is it activating?”

“It might be.” Merritt’s hand shook as she again held the amulet out toward the tree—the steelwillow tree. It thrummed again. The green light was brighter this time, the same color as the magic that oozed from Merritt’s skin.

Akila’s rumbling growl made Merritt jump. The echinemon squirmed around on the LRTV’s seat and snapped her teeth.

“What do you see, girl?” Merritt gripped her collar.

Akila snarled and lunged at the amulet. Gasping, Merritt held it above her head, well out of the echinemon’s reach. Akila squirmed, her nose trained on the amulet, and exposed her sharp fangs.

“What in Merlin’s name is wrong with you?” Merritt demanded.

Akila’s tail twitched, and her blue eyes didn’t leave the amulet. She coiled her body and tried to pounce.

Merritt held her back with a hand on her collar. “Akila, no! Stop it!”

The echinemon flattened her ears.

“Maybe you should take it closer to the tree,” Damian suggested. “See what it does.”

“Yeah. Here, take it before Akila tries to grab it. I’ll get it from you in bird form.” Merritt handed him the amulet. “Akila, stay here.”

The echinemon whined.

“I’ll watch her. You go.”

Merritt shrank and spread her wings. As a hawk, she leaped off the LRTV, her talons scratching the seat. She scooped the amulet out of Damian’s hand with her claws and soared toward the Tree of Living Waters’ frozen branches.

The amulet throbbed, its vibrations strong and fast enough that she had to clench it hard. Its faint pulses of light became flashes that spun and sparkled on the ice and snow surrounding her. Merritt flew around the tree’s highest branches, but she already knew where to go.

Her senses led her toward the last fork before the trunk separated into the thin branches of the canopy. Merritt remembered abundant life in these branches, but there were no squirrels or humminghogs here now, only silence and snow. The white powder trickled off the branch nearest the fork as Merritt landed, clutching the amulet with one foot.

“Merritt?” Damian yelled. “You good up there?”

Merritt ignored him. The amulet trembled in her grip. She was looking at the place it belonged.

The hollow in the trunk was a perfect hole where the amulet would fit. The tree’s grain swirled around the opening. No, Merritt realized. It’s not grain. She stepped closer.

They were runes.

Merritt broke the ice around the hole with her beak to reveal the runes. Though they were unfamiliar, her brain processed them like words in a book.

To unlock the Rift, emplace the key

And ready for the consequences be.

Merritt’s feathers ruffled. Consequences.

The amulet sang between her talons, desperate to return to its place and open the Rift, whatever that was. Merritt backed away. This was what the Furies wanted it for.

Or maybe what they wanted to prevent.

Unease shivered her skin, raising the feathers on the back of her neck. She tensed and opened her wings. A new scent made her stomach churn. It was bitter and acrid—the reek of dark magic.

Furies? Merritt twisted her neck, scanning the sky, but saw nothing and no one. The smell came from the hole in the trunk she’d uncovered with her beak.

Merritt moved nearer and spotted a dark streak in the bark. She followed it up to the canopy, where the darkness spread like veins across the trunk and covered the branches, shriveling the leaves and turning them black with corruption.

A shudder rocked Merritt’s bones. She shrieked an alarm, sprang off the branch, and flew away from the tree as fast as her wings could carry her.

Akila’s growls and yips reached her as she soared toward Damian. He held out his wrist, and she perched, breathless. The amulet dropped from her talons into his free hand.

“What did you find?”

Merritt stared up at the steelwillow, thinking about the black streaks killing the tree her people considered essential to their culture. “Nothing good.”

Akila snored in her fluffy bed in the corner in Merritt’s kitchen. The quiet sound blended with the hum of the mixer as it blended butter and cream cheese.

Merritt tried to focus on the frosting as she used a spatula to scrape the bowl’s sides, making sure it mixed evenly. Although they’d gotten home the day before, she still felt like she was in Lichenvale, perched on a branch, staring at the corruption in the Tree of Living Waters.

Her hands trembled as she switched the mixer off and added powdered sugar and vanilla extract to the frosting.

Get it together, Merritt. She shook her head to clear it. You have shit to do. You can’t stress about this right now.

The scent of cupcakes brought her back to her cozy kitchen with Akila asleep in the corner and baked goods all over the table. Merritt’s chest loosened as she filled a piping bag with the cream cheese frosting and sat down, smiling at the cooled red velvet cupcakes arrayed before her. They’d come out perfectly, each bearing a rune for good luck.

Merritt piped thick white frosting onto each cupcake, finishing with a cute flourish on the top. The rune flashed beneath the frosting as she used a shaker to add powdered shamrock to the first one. Humans would only see sparkly green decorations. Paranormals would know that they solidified the good luck charm on every cupcake.

“Perfect.” She beamed at the cupcakes.

Her phone buzzed as she added shamrock to the other cupcakes. She raised it to her ear. “Principal Chancellor, how are you?”

“All the better for hearing your calm voice, Merritt.” The principal of Little Avalon Academy groaned. “Tell me everything is under control for the fundraiser, please. My teachers are all panicking.”

Merritt laughed. “No need to panic.”

“Maya, who teaches Avalonian History, tells me the printer broke, so no more flyers.”

“Qenzi fixed their printer, and they’ve made two hundred flyers already. I’ll bring them to you this afternoon. Also, tell Tabitha from Home Economics that I sent her stand’s design to a few paras I know, and they suggested the changes she was worried about. I’ll email her a summary.”

Principal Chancellor exhaled. “Thank you. I knew you’d have it all in hand.”

A knock on the door made Akila raise her head. Her tail twitched with excitement. The door opened, and Shadow bounded into the kitchen, sending several chairs flying as he charged over to his friend.

Val shouldered through the doorway and grimaced when she saw that Merritt was on the phone. “Sorry,” she mouthed. “Shadow! Living room!”

Shadow and Akila barreled down the hall, baying and snarling in play.

Merritt cupped a hand around the phone to mute the chaos. “Anything else, sir?”

“The pegasus polo teacher is at odds with the Were combat guy. Apparently, he doesn’t like the idea of having predators sparring next to his stable. He says it’ll spook the pegasi.”

“I see his point.” Merritt handed Val a cupcake and waved her into a chair. “The Were combat presentation is key to improving diversity at the academy, though. Maybe we could move it to the other side of the campus by the gate?”

“That is a good idea, regardless of the pegasi. It’ll draw more paras to the other stands. Good thinking, Merritt. I’ll talk to him.”

“Great. Let me know if you need anything else.” Merritt hung up.

Val had cream cheese frosting on her upper lip. “You’re organizing the fundraiser at the academy?”

“Yep.” Merritt selected a croissant from the cooling rack, plated it, and slid the plate across the table to Val. “Leave space for this.”

“Of course you are. You organize everything. Also, I could never be too full to try whatever new thing you bake.”

Merritt grinned. “You’re so good for my confidence, Val.”

“This is the most incredible red velvet cupcake I have ever eaten.”

“Case in point. How can I help you? Or did the smell of my baking lure you here?”

Val paused in mid-bite. “So what if it did? I’m the duchess. I do what I want.”

“I needed a taste tester anyway.” Merritt turned as the oven timer dinged. “Ah, there are the quadruple chocolate cupcakes.”

“The what chocolate cupcakes?”

“They’re as chocolate-y as a cupcake can be.” Merritt pulled on the oven mitts.

Val devoured the last bite of cupcake. “What did you guys find in Lichenvale?”

Merritt’s shoulders sagged. She explained the dark magic in the tree as she took the cupcakes out and arrayed them on a cooling rack. “I don’t remember dark magic in Lichenvale before Mordred’s attack, but maybe...”

“Don’t go there, Merritt.” Val reached for the croissant. “Lichenvale suffered one of the worst dark magic attacks in paranormal history. It’s no surprise that corruption lingers there. The OPMA is still cleaning up half the Deep after Mordred’s occupation, and that was years ago.”

“Maybe.” Merritt put the kettle on the stove and fashioned a double boiler from a small pot and a metal bowl. “Do you know anything about a rift?”

“Can’t say it rings any bells,” Val answered with her mouth full.

“For me, either, but that doesn’t mean anything, considering my lack of memory. I emailed a report to Titus, Merlin, and Professor Frostquill. Maybe they can help.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s those three old farts.” Val held up the croissant, gazing at it with awe. “Merlin’s beard, what’s in this thing?”

“Caramel and banana filling. Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Val shoved the rest into her mouth. “It’sh amashing!”

Merritt laughed. “Good. It also has a good mood charm.”

“Fantastic.” Val groaned. “I could use it.”

Merritt broke a chocolate bar into the metal bowl. “You look tired.” The duchess had puffy half-moons under her eyes and a frown line between her brows.

“I am tired.” Val ran a hand through her blue hair. “We weren’t, uh, sober when we asked you, but are you still up for making our wedding cake?”

Merritt wanted to say no, but the desperation in Val’s eyes stopped her.

“I’d do anything for you guys. You know that.” She filled the pot with boiling water and placed the bowl on top. “I’m more than happy to do it as long as you’re aware that there are far more experienced bakers than me out there.”

“You’re Merritt. You’re the best baker who ever lived,” Val announced with conviction.

Merritt giggled. “Thanks for that.”

“You’ll do a great job.” Val paused. “More importantly, Niall thinks so too. You’re still the only thing we’ve agreed on.”

“Still having trouble picking a venue?” Merritt stirred the chocolate in the bowl to melt it.

Val groaned. “The venue shopping did not go well.”

“I’m sorry, Val.”

“It’s okay. It’s getting to me because we’ve seldom fought like this. It feels like we’ve lost our ability to see eye to eye.”

Merritt scooted another saucepan onto the stove and poured cream into it. “I’m sure that’s not the case. You and Niall are great together.”

“I adore him, and I can’t wait to marry him.” Val threw her hands up. “If only the wedding was less complicated.”

“Why not elope? The public expects a big, fancy wedding, but that doesn’t mean you have to have one.”

“We talked about it but can’t agree on where we’d do it and which handful of people we’d invite.” Val buried her face in her hands. “We can’t agree on anything, except that we want you to make the cake.”

“I’ll do that.” Merritt swirled the cream around as it heated. “It’ll be beautiful, too. I have a lesson with Agnes this afternoon. She referred me to somebody who could teach me how to decorate cakes, but he hasn’t gotten back to me after I messaged him. I’ll ask her if she can help me get in touch.”

Val lowered her hands. “Thanks, Merritt. That’d be great. We’ve started a Pinterest board with cake ideas. It seems to be what you do when you’re planning to get married.”

“Share it with me. I’ll practice everything I can.” Merritt poured the cream over the melting chocolate and cautiously combined the two into thick ganache. She poured the hot ganache over the chocolate cupcakes.

Val smacked her lips. “Merlin’s glorious patterned robes.”

“They’re chocolate cupcakes covered in chocolate ganache with chocolate chips and a molten chocolate center.” Merritt held up a finger each time she said the word “chocolate.” “That’s how you make a quadruple chocolate cupcake.”

Val extended her hands. “Give.”

“Careful, they’re hot.” Merritt gave her one.

Val shoved the whole thing into her mouth with joyful abandon.

Merritt grimaced at her phone. She trailed her free hand over the petals of the stunning hydrangea beside the path to Agnes’ front door. This yard had formerly looked neglected and drab compared to the neighboring homes. Now, it was an enviable explosion of life and color, with a profusion of rosebushes, a huge patch of bright daffodils, and a hydrangea threatening to engulf them all.

Merritt paused to touch the lavender bush and a rose, stimulating them to grow and compete with the hydrangea. They each produced new flowers.

She returned her attention to the phone and sighed. Damian was not happy with Akila.

DAMIAN

Your echinemon’s howling the place down again.

Merritt typed a quick response.

MERRITT

Did you give her the peanut butter toy?

DAMIAN

I’ll try that, but she’s mad that you left her.

MERRITT

Thanks. That makes me feel better.

DAMIAN

You know what would make me feel better? Not getting woken up at the ungodly hour of four in the afternoon to give peanut butter to somebody’s annoying pet.

MERRITT

Sorry crying face

DAMIAN

Don’t make that face at me. I’m giving her the thing. Enjoy your cake lesson.

“Are you coming in, or would you prefer to stand there and stare at your phone all day?” Agnes demanded.

“Sorry.” Merritt dropped it into her pocket. “I’m coming.” She jogged up the steps to the front door.

The dwarf held it open for her. “I’m glad you didn’t bring that creature today.”

“Not after the chaos she caused last time.” Merritt sighed. “She can be a lot of trouble, but I love her.”

“Pets and children. Never could understand why people had either.”

Merritt smirked. “What about baking mentees?”

“Pain in the ass.” Agnes snorted. “Don’t know why I do it.” She stumped down the hall. Merritt giggled at the back of her head and followed her.

“What are we making today?” she asked.

“You tell me. Another croquembouche since your beast ruined the last one?”

Merritt rubbed her chin. “It’s a lot of work, but I did freeze plenty of puffs last time, so that would cut down on the time quite a bit. First, though, I need to ask for your help with Marcurio Fauntleroy.”

Agnes’ shoulders stiffened. “What about him?”

“Well, I sent him a message a week ago, but he hasn’t responded. You know him well enough to give him a call on my behalf.”

“What makes you think I know him?” Agnes snapped. “I never said that.”

“You said you were old friends.”

“I knew him.” Agnes folded her arms. “I doubt he’d pick up the phone if I called him now.”

Merritt raised her eyebrows. “There’s history, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Okay, okay.” Merritt laughed. “If you have his phone number, I’ll call.”

“What makes you think he’ll answer you? His phone rings off the hook half the time.”

“Phones don’t have hooks.”

“They used to, smartass.” Agnes snorted. “His adoring fans are forever trying to get through to him.”

“’Adoring fans?’” Merritt asked.

“Didn’t you see them on his Parabook page?”

Merritt shook her head. “His page is set to private. I couldn’t even see his profile picture.”

“You landed on his personal profile. No wonder he didn’t answer you.” Agnes huffed. “The only way you’ll get the help you need is if you go knock on his door.”

“Where’s that?”

Agnes squared her shoulders. She stopped in the middle of the hall, turned on her heel, and marched back toward the front door. “It’s thirty minutes away.” She grabbed a hat from the hook by the door and jammed it onto her head.

Merritt brushed dust off its crown. “Lead the way.”

Agnes swung the door open in a jerky motion. She hadn’t left her house in years before Liam and Qenzi’s wedding, so it had been a milestone for her to come to Little Avalon. Merritt had no idea what had motivated her sudden resolve to go out, but she wouldn’t screw it up. She hung back as Agnes gazed into the garden and inhaled. Then the dwarf marched forward.

Merritt followed her to the street. A block from the subway, Agnes pulled out her metro card and held it in front of her like a shield.

“Where are we going?” Merritt asked.

“Forest Hills.”

“Forest Hills?” Merritt raised her eyebrows. “Fancy.”

“That’s Marcurio for you. Stop yapping. I need to focus.”

She hesitated at the subway entrance. Merritt thought she would turn around and go home, but Agnes marched down the steps and onto the platform without looking back.

Merritt enjoyed the striking multiple-story homes on either side of the street as she and Agnes strolled past them. They were similar to Agnes’ large house in Astoria, with pretty front yards and huge trees lining the road. Nice cars stood in the driveways or rolled past.

“This neighborhood is pretty,” Merritt observed.

Agnes barked a laugh. “Wait ‘til you see Marcurio’s place.” She turned down a side street without consulting her phone for navigation. “Here we are.”

Merritt blinked. “Looks like all the other houses, except for the paint job.” The home was pastel pink with a purple roof. Peonies bloomed in the borders around the front lawn.

Agnes snorted. “Yeah, until you pass through the concealment spell.”

The air rippled as she stepped onto the front lawn, and purple light traced her outline as she broke through the spell.

Merritt followed, her vision blurring as the spell washed over her like she’d plunged into lukewarm water. When it cleared, she gazed at a towering mansion.

The concealment spell hid an expansive estate. The patch was now a sprawling lawn, with fountains, flowerbeds, and manicured topiaries. The mansion was pinker and more purple than the house, and everything looked like cake.

“Merlin’s wings, this is awesome!” Merritt giggled.

Agnes groaned. “It’s too much.”

Maybe it was, but in the best way. The fountains were shaped like tiered cakes, water splashing down over every layer like ganache. The manicured trees were cupcake-shaped. Stepping stones in the shape of cake slices led across the lawn to the front door, and the mansion looked like a wedding cake—three round stories with a statue of a faun wielding a piping bag on the top. The statue was solid gold. Everything else was brilliantly colorful. Each window frame and door was a different color, from royal blue and emerald green to vermilion and crimson.

“I love it.” Merritt strode toward the front door.

“It’s far too much,” Agnes muttered. “It’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe, but I respect the commitment.” Merritt chuckled.

They climbed the steps—each one a different color—to the front door, where a cake-shaped solid brass door knocker hung. Merritt raised it and allowed it to drop once.

“Good luck, kid,” Agnes rasped. “He’s not easily impressed.”

“Oh, no! Whatever shall I do? I’ve never met anyone like that before.” Merritt pressed a dramatic hand to her forehead.

“Shut up,” Agnes grumbled.

The door swung open, revealing a vampire in a bright purple top hat and tails.

“Mr. Fauntleroy, sir.” Merritt bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I’m not Mr. Fauntleroy. Do you think he has the time to answer his door?” the vampire demanded. “He doesn’t see visitors. Leave before I call the OPMA.”

Merritt blinked. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’d like to speak to Mr. Fauntleroy, that’s all.”

“You and seven million other followers. How did you get this address? You need to leave,” the vampire ordered.

Agnes stepped forward. “Cut the crap, kid. Tell Marcurio that Agnes Ingot is here to see him.”

The vampire froze, his eyes widening. “You’re…you’re her.”

“Yes, I am. Where is he?” Agnes pushed past him. “Marcurio!”

“Shhhh!” The vampire grabbed her arm. “Please don’t ruin the audio. I’ll take you to him.”

Agnes shook him off. “Touch me again, and I’ll shove your fangs up your ass.”

“Sorry,” the vampire squeaked. He scurried across the gorgeous entrance hall. Yellow and blue polka dots decorated the walls, and cushions designed to look like cake slices lay on the furniture. Merritt wanted to admire a display case full of cake pictures and awards, but the vampire and Agnes didn’t wait. She hurried after them as they strode to a set of double doors.

“Be quiet, please,” the vampire whispered. “He’s live.”

Agnes nodded.

The vampire swung the doors open, and Merritt peered into the most wonderful kitchen she’d ever seen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The black and white floor tiles offset the pastel cabinets, doors alternating between sage green, ballet pink, baby blue, and buttermilk yellow. But it wasn’t the décor that made Merritt’s jaw drop in awe; it was the equipment. She’d admired that oven online even though it was priced like a car. The stand mixer in pride of place on the counter was on her bucket list. Elaborate and beautiful cake stands stood on the counter beside it.

A handsome faun sat at the kitchen table, smiling across it at the camera and the ring light on a stand facing him. He gripped a piping bag and held up a flower nail. The cake at his elbow was breathtaking. About three feet tall, it was a kneeling fae, the curves of her arms and legs so perfect that Merritt could hardly believe she was cake. Glittering gossamer sugar wings stretched from her back, and a circlet of roses rested on her head.

“All right, last one.” The faun raised the piping bag. “Like we practiced, everybody.” He piped a perfect rose on the flower nail with astonishing speed.

Merritt frowned. His voice was familiar.

“He’s nearly done,” the vampire told them.

“Did you say seven million followers?” Merritt asked.

The vampire held a finger to his lips.

“That’s it!” The faun transferred the rose to the cake fae’s head with a triumphant flourish. “There you have it, everybody. A perfect fairy cake that you—yes, you—can make at home.” He laughed, the sound holding the faint edge of a bleat. The laugh was even more familiar. “Comment your pic if you try this. I’d love to see your work.” He leaned closer to the camera. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe. See you next week!”

The vampire silently stepped across the kitchen and turned off the camera. The faun laid the piping bag down and flexed his tired fingers, listening as the vampire said something Merritt didn’t hear.

The faun’s shoulders stiffened, and his head whipped to Merritt and Agnes. The penny dropped when Merritt saw his face.

She grabbed Agnes’ arm. “I know him! I follow him online!” She giggled. “He’s the Laughing Cake Guy! I didn’t know he was a paranormal, but I thought his laugh sounded...goat-y.”

“One can hardly scroll through Parabook without a video of Marcurio popping up,” Agnes complained.

Marcurio Fauntleroy slid off the stool, hooves clattering on the tiles. The kitchen table hid his hairy legs, cloven hooves, and fluffy tail from the camera. He wore his hazel hair in an elaborate faux hawk that hid his tiny horns even from paranormal eyes. Polka dots covered his long-sleeved shirt, the collar immaculately starched, and he wore a bright pink waistcoat.

Merritt clapped her hands over her mouth and tried to hold back a fangirl’s squeal. Learning cake decorating from the Laughing Cake Guy was so far-fetched that she hadn’t even dared to dream about it.

Marcurio waved his assistant away as he marched across the kitchen. He didn’t give Merritt a second glance; he barely bothered to give her a first one. He trained his eyes on Agnes.

“Agnes Ingot.” His breath caught. “It’s really you.”

Merritt wasn’t sure if she was imagining the color on Agnes’ cheeks.

The dwarf kept her hands tucked into her shawl. “Marcurio. You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you.” Marcurio held out a hand. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

Agnes harrumphed and kept her gnarled, painful hands hidden. “It’s not a social call. I taught this kid to make pastries. Now you’ll teach her to decorate cakes.”

“Merritt Vale, sir.” Merritt stumbled forward and grabbed his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Your quadruple-tiered wedding cake with the glass supports blew me away.”

Marcurio’s smile was polite. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He extracted his hand.

“Kid wants to learn cakes. You do cakes. Teach her,” Agnes rasped.

Marcurio cleared his throat. “Agnes, my dear, I don’t teach. My schedule is far too full.”

“Kid’s got talent, Marcurio. I’ve only had her for a few months, and she’s made every pastry I can think of.”

“I’m sure she does, but I don’t teach. There are plenty of other decorators in the city she can visit.”

Agnes huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the best.”

Marcurio preened.

“Kid deserves to learn from the best, Marcurio. That’s why I’m here.” Agnes raised her chin. “Lost her whole family in the war. She deserves this shot.”

Marcurio’s gaze darted to Merritt. “I’m truly sorry to hear that, Miss Vale.”

“It’s Guardian Vale,” Agnes snapped.

Marcurio inclined his head. “My apologies. I wish I could help. I’ll recommend several excellent teachers.”

Agnes sighed. “I’m trying to ask you for a favor. If you won’t do this for her, do it for me.” Her tone was softer than Merritt thought it could ever be. “For old times’ sake.”

They both froze. As Marcurio stood a little taller and Agnes’ stance relaxed, Merritt felt like she was looking back through time at two people in another era.

“Please?” Agnes added.

Merritt gaped. She’d never heard the curmudgeonly dwarf use that word.

Marcurio smiled. “How can I say no to Agnes Ingot?” He turned to Merritt. “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done, but it has to be something incredible to get her on your side. You’ll be one lucky paranormal to get decorating lessons from Marcurio Fauntleroy.”

Merritt wanted to jump up and down and scream, but she kept it to an enormous grin. “Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.”

“She will, too.” Agnes exhaled. “Thank you, Marcurio.”

“Can she start tomorrow?” Marcurio asked.

“She’s standing right there.” Agnes jerked a thumb at Merritt.

“I beg your pardon.” Marcurio flushed.

Merritt beamed. “I can be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“One o’clock.”

“Good.” Agnes grabbed Merritt’s arm. “Time to go.”

“You’re welcome to stay.” The words tumbled from Marcurio’s mouth. “I’d love to make you a cup of coffee.”

“We’re leaving,” Agnes barked.

“But—” Merritt began.

“Goodbye, Marcurio.” Agnes dragged Merritt to the door.

The faun watched them from the top of the steps as they walked across the cake-themed yard. He was still watching when they stepped through the concealment spell, which hid him from sight.

Agnes said nothing as she stumped toward the subway. Merritt was dying to ask her about the history between her and Marcurio, but she knew the dwarf wouldn’t answer a single question.

Merritt sweated as she strolled down the Forest Hills street. Excitement bubbled in her belly like champagne. She’d stayed up all night watching the Laughing Cake Guy’s videos, enjoying the amazing cakes he’d made for everything from anniversaries and birthdays to weddings and conferences.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. The caller ID said Titus Dorian.

Merritt’s heart skipped as she answered. “Hi, Titus.”

“Good afternoon! How’s Akila?”

Merritt smiled. “Impossible to handle most of the time, but I can’t imagine life without her. She shares my bed.”

“She’s a lucky echinemon. I hope she improves her behavior. I’m not calling about her, though.”

Merritt bit her lip. “You’ve found out something new about the amulet or the Rift?”

“It’s not a breakthrough,” Titus admitted. “I wish I had more to tell you, but we finally discovered a mention of the Rift.”

“Where?”

“Merlin found it in an ancient Lunar Fae scroll. Unfortunately, Mordred’s cult almost destroyed the scroll in the Second Pendragon War, so we only have scraps of it now. Eldrim and I are working on reassembling what we have. Hopefully, we’ll decipher more.”

Disappointment gripped Merritt’s belly. “Okay. Thanks for your efforts, Titus.”

“We’ll get answers, Merritt. For your sake and the sake of everyone in the city. I saw there was another dark magic surge in Brooklyn yesterday.”

“There was, but when Val and her team got there, the Fury was gone. They found balefire marks in an abandoned building. At least no one was hurt.”

“We must stop that Fury before someone is hurt,” Titus grimly acknowledged. “We’ll keep working.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

“Will do. I’ll keep you updated.” Titus ended the call.

Merritt stuffed the phone into her pocket, her exhalation shaking her chest. The Fury’s threat still hung over the city like a shadow, but there was nothing she could do about it right now. She squared her shoulders as her smile returned. For now, she had to keep a promise to a friend and learn how to make a wedding cake fit for a duchess and heroine.

She passed through the concealment spell and strolled across the magnificent lawn. Birds darted and bathed in the cake fountains, twittering greetings to Merritt as she passed.

The vampire assistant waited for her at the front door. “You’re early.”

Merritt checked her phone. It was 12:58 p.m. “Yep.”

“Good. Marcurio likes punctuality.” The vampire gave her an assessing look. “You wouldn’t be bad on camera. Maybe we can do a new series of videos.”

Merritt blinked. “Really?”

“I’ll run it past Marcurio.” The vampire hesitated, then extended a cold, gloved hand. “I’m Rowan.”

“Merritt.” She shook it.

“Marcurio’s in the kitchen.” Rowan released her hand and marched across the entrance hall.

Marcurio sat at the kitchen table, phone in hand. He looked up as Merritt entered and locked his phone, but not before she saw the photo he’d been looking at. It was old, and she thought she glimpsed a copper-haired dwarf beside him in the image.

“There you are, Guardian Vale. Punctual, I see.”

“It’s Merritt, please, sir.”

“In that case, no more of the ‘sir’ business. Call me Marcurio.” He beamed. “Ready to make a cake?”

“Always, sir. I mean, Marcurio.”

“Good.” He laughed. “You know how to bake, so I took the liberty of preparing a few cakes and chilling them. They’re in the fridge.”

Merritt fetched three sturdy cakes from the fridge. She slid the trays onto the table. “What filling are we making?”

“We’re going classic with this one. We’re only using frosting. The frosting is half the battle, so the more you practice it, the better.” Marcurio gestured at the ingredients laid out on the kitchen table. “I’ll teach you to make the best buttercream you’ve ever tasted.”

Merritt grinned. “Sounds great.”

The faun guided her through familiar steps: blending the butter and sugar, then slowly adding the salt, vanilla, and cream. Marcurio made a dozen minor tweaks, helping Merritt sift the sugar until it was the finest powder and adding tiny splashes of cream to help the frosting achieve the perfect consistency.

“Another drop of cream, my dear,” he suggested.

Merritt carefully poured. “Is that right?”

“Yes, perfect. Not a drop more. Mix it for another minute or so.”

Merritt scraped the bowl. “It’s a luxury to use a mixer. Agnes never lets me. I have to knead everything by hand.”

“Ugh, kneading!” Marcurio rolled his eyes. “I hated my pastry class in culinary school. Lucky for you, buttercream isn’t as finicky as choux or whatever you call that other one. Fellow pastry.”

“Phyllo?”

Marcurio gave her a charming smile. “That’s the one.”

Merritt giggled. “How does it look now?”

Marcurio peered into the bowl. “Perfect!”

Merritt switched off the mixer and removed the bowl. Filling the cakes with the fluffy white frosting was easy, and in a few minutes, she had assembled the three cakes on top of one another with generous layers of frosting between them.

“Excellent work, Merritt.” Marcurio pulled out a chair beside hers.

Merritt giggled. “I’ve hardly done anything yet.”

“Nonetheless, the little you did was excellent.” Marcurio inclined his head. “Next, we’ll apply a crumb coat—a thin layer of frosting that will seal in the moisture and make your final layer more even. Don’t worry about how it looks. Just apply the icing evenly.”

“Icing?”

Marcurio chuckled. “Don’t you know my British accent is a fan favorite? I grew up in London and moved to New York to get away from my parents, as one does.”

Not this one, Merritt thought, but she kept that to herself.

She slid the neatly stacked cakes onto an icing turntable, which spun smoothly as she spread the buttercream. Tiny flakes broke off and mingled with the buttercream as she worked.

“No wonder they call it a crumb coat,” she observed. “The cake still shows here. Did I make it too thin?”

“It’s okay if it shows. You’ll cover that with your final layer.” Marcurio gave her an encouraging smile. “There, that’s perfect. Now we’ll pop it into the fridge for twenty minutes. Enough time to have a nice cup of tea.”

Merritt slid the cake, turntable and all, into the fridge. “Why does it have to chill?”

“It’ll help the frosting harden and make it easier to add more. The finished product will be smoother.” Marcurio put the kettle on the stove.

“I’ll make the tea,” Merritt offered.

“Nonsense! You’re a guest in my home. Usually Rowan makes it, but he’s shouting at my video editor, poor chap. You have a seat, my dear, and I’ll brew us some Earl Gray.”

Merritt rested her feet and watched as Marcurio fussed with an adorable fat teapot on a white doily. “Cake lessons with you are really different from pastry lessons with Agnes.”

“Let me guess.” Marcurio delivered a credible imitation of Agnes’ gravelly rasp. “‘Knead! Knead! Have you never kneaded dough before? Do it like your life depends on it, or I’ll hit you over the head with a rolling pin!’”

Merritt giggled. “Precisely.”

Marcurio poured hot water into the teapot. “That’s Agnes. She’s always been that way.”

“You know her well.”

Marcurio added herbs and berries to the pot, then closed the lid. “Better than you might guess.”

“Oh?”

Marcurio carried the teapot to the table on a gilded tray with two tiny floral cups on matching saucers. The teaspoons were gold, with ivory-inlaid handles bearing delicate peach blossoms.

“She said you were an old friend,” Merritt prompted.

The corner of Marcurio’s mouth quirked up. Despite his overdone polka-dot bow tie and ridiculous hair, he was handsome when he smiled. “Old friend, eh? That’s generous by Agnes’ standards.”

“I sense there’s more to the story.”

“Yes, there is.”

Merritt waited, dying to know but too polite to pry. Marcurio slowly poured the tea and added sugar cubes to each one before he continued.

“Agnes and I were in culinary school together.”

“In this city?” Merritt asked. “I heard Agnes has been baking pastries for longer than New York City has existed.”

“Agnes studied pastry-making in Avalon before the Europeans settled here. She got famous in New York, though, and once told me that nowhere else has ever felt like home to her.” Marcurio stirred his tea. “When she moved here sixty years ago, she hadn’t done much baking for humans, so she attended a human-run culinary school to learn more. I was in many of her classes. I only turned to cake decorating after I’d had an illustrious career as a mid-level enchanter. We’re roughly the same age, give or take a few decades.”

“A few decades?”

Marcurio sighed. “What’s thirty years when you are centuries old?”

“Fair enough. Was that where you and Agnes became friends?”

Marcurio sipped his tea, grimaced, and added another sugar cube. “Friends? Well, yes. That was how it started. We were the best of friends then. I showed her around the city. She was fresh from Avalon, but she always had that spark. She was afraid of nothing, and I was afraid of everything. She gave me courage, and my caution tempered her.”

Merritt propped her chin on her hands. “Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

“I thought so, too. It was like wooing a roll of barbed wire, but I found my way through her defenses. She leaned in first the night we kissed, sitting on the hood of my orange ’67 Camaro, gazing across the bay at Lady Liberty in the sunset.” Marcurio smiled, his eyes far away.

Merritt gave a long, wistful sigh. “Sooooo romantic.”

Marcurio blinked and wrapped his hands around the teacup. “The next morning, we decided it was best if we never saw each other again.”

Merritt gasped. “Why?”

“Drink your tea, Merritt,” Marcurio urged.

Merritt took the cup. “Sorry.” She raised it to her lips and made a small sound of surprise. “Wow, this is amazing tea!”

“Isn’t it? I imported it.”

“From Avalon?”

“From Asia, dear. Most Avalonians wouldn’t know a good cup of tea if it danced a jig in front of them.” Marcurio snorted.

“I love it.” Merritt sipped. “Thank you.”

She thought that would be the end of Marcurio’s sharing, but after sipping in silence for a moment, he returned to the story. “Things were very different back then, Merritt.”

“Why?” Merritt asked. “Because a Sylthana Elf was on the Eternity Throne?”

“What? Oh, no. Not like that. Queen Esmerelda ruled for more than three hundred years. Avalonian years, admittedly, but they were more stable compared to Earth years than in the previous millennia.” Marcurio lowered the cup. “No, it was a cultural difference. Interspecies relationships were not allowed.”

Merritt paused in mid-sip. “I see.”

“A faun and a dwarf... It was unheard of back then.”

“It’s not unheard of now,” Merritt assured him.

The pinging timer startled them both.

“The cake’s ready for its next layer.” Marcurio rose to fetch it while Merritt selected a clean spatula from the nearest drawer. “All right, Merritt. This is the much harder part,” he told her. “We need to make a flawless top coat of icing, a perfect canvas for the designs we’ll add later. You need a mug of boiling water to keep the buttercream from sticking to the spatula. Oh, and get the offset one too. This one leaves lines.”

“Okay.” Merritt selected the correct spatula. “This one?”

“Precisely. Scoop a lot of buttercream on the top of the cake, then work it down the sides, keeping the top nice and even.”

Merritt squeezed her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she smoothed the buttercream over the cake. The crumb coat let the frosting move nicely, but she ended up with spatula marks, especially on the sides.

“I don’t get it.” She lowered the spatula, frustrated. “It’s not right.”

“Of course not. You still have work to do.” Marcurio grinned. “Well done. It’s good and even. Thick, too, as we want it.”

“What about all the marks?”

“We’ll get rid of those in one easy step.” Marcurio retrieved a flat metal object with a colorful silicone grip from a drawer. “This is a cake scraper.”

Merritt took it. “How do I use it?”

“Hold it against the cake. Lightly, mind you. You don’t want to scrape through the frosting. Then slowly spin the turntable.”

Merritt held the scraper level as she slowly rotated the cake. A thin layer of frosting caught on the edge, and the frosting smoothed as if by magic.

She gasped, lifting the scraper. “Look at it! It’s perfect!”

“It’s not perfect, but it is much better. Let me show you how to do the top and touch up the sides.”

He worked with her until the frosting encased the cake in a perfectly smooth layer, as though she’d vacuum-wrapped it in satin.

“I love it,” Merritt gushed. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s just the beginning.” Marcurio beamed. “Wonderful work, Merritt. Let’s refine your technique with buttercream roses, shall we?” He rummaged in a cabinet for a flower nail. “Start by returning that buttercream to the mixer. We need to color it.”

“What color should I use?”

Marcurio slid open a drawer, revealing neat bottles of color organized by shade. “Any one you like.”

“Merlin’s wings!” Merritt clapped her hands. “This kitchen is a dream.” She chose cerulean blue.

“Only a few drops. That is strong stuff.”

Merritt added them to the buttercream and turned on the mixer. Its whir filled the kitchen for several moments before she plucked up the courage to speak. “Hey, Marcurio?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

“I know interspecies relationships weren’t done back then.” Merritt paused. “They are done now.”

Marcurio hesitated. For a moment, Merritt thought he was married. Then he touched the bare place on his finger where a ring used to be. “My wife died in the war.”

Merritt stopped the mixer. “I’m so sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

“Not at all. It’s been a long time. Posy would have wanted me to move on.” Marcurio flexed his fingers. “Agnes was the one that got away.”

“Until she came back.”

Marcurio laughed. “I doubt she will.”

“Don’t underestimate her.”

Marcurio’s easy smile returned. “Let’s pipe some roses.”

They let the cake chill again while Marcurio showed her how to improve her technique until her roses looked so real she wanted to sniff them. She retrieved the cake and applied the roses around the top and trailing down the side in an elegant pattern. Marcurio showed her how to mold a butterfly’s thorax from fondant and draw delicate veins on rice paper for the wings.

It was dark when Merritt cautiously placed the butterfly on the biggest buttercream rose. “I love it. I love it so much. Thank you for showing me how to do this, Marcurio.”

“We’re not done yet.” Marcurio handed her a spice shaker filled with something that rustled and glittered.

“What’s this?”

“Selenite with a bit of magic. I invented it years ago.”

“What does it do?”

Marcurio gestured at the butterfly. “See for yourself.”

Merritt cautiously sprinkled a little of the powder on the butterfly, and its wings stirred. She gasped as the fondant insect stretched its rice paper wings and soared around the kitchen with blue buttercream stuck to its belly.

Marcurio burst out laughing. Merritt joined in, and the carefree sound filled the kitchen.

Merritt knew she smelled like sugar, butter, and cinnamon because the little werewolf walking ahead of her kept sniffing the air. He clung to his mother’s hand, nose high and twitching.

When he finally turned and saw Merritt, he grinned and waved. Merritt waved back.

Summer was on its way out. The pin oaks were yellow, but the sunny day was in denial. Merritt wore a short-sleeved dress that allowed the sunlight to play on her skin. A breeze stirred her hair, refreshing instead of chilly, as she wandered home from a shift at Chaplin’s Kitchen.

A gust caught the nearest oak. Merritt ambled to it and leaned against the trunk, enjoying the warm pulse of nature magic within. She laid her head back and gazed at the leaves as they danced in the wind, their rustle full-throated and musical.

A memory flickered. The movement of the leaves was familiar. She hesitated, grief gripping her, but then closed her eyes and allowed herself to tumble into the memory.

She was a bird, speeding through a steelwillow. Her wings brushed the leaves and stirred them, as did the breeze that carried her forward. A dozen birds flew beside her, chirping. She had never seen birds like these; they had the sharp, hooked beaks of raptors, but their feathers were iridescent blue, turquoise, or purple, depending on the light’s angle.

Their chirps sounded like laughter. Merritt laughed with them as they burst from the canopy and soared over the valley. A river flowed down its center, sparkling between the thick reeds and waterlilies that covered much of its surface. The steelwillow that rose beside it was almost as tall as the surrounding mountains.

Merritt’s breath caught. Lichenvale.

Her other memories had been spot on. There was no ice or snow. Grass and brilliant wildflowers grew between homes woven from living vines and branches. She flew too high to see faces, but Leshbolgs were everywhere: slender and female in their human forms or male giants lumbering across the village.

Merritt’s heart ached with longing for her people. The other birds swooped away, and she went with them. They were Leshbolgs, too.

The memory faded. She tried to get it back, but no more details came to her.

She opened her eyes and brushed the dampness from them. Her steps were awkward as she pushed away from the pin oak and hurried toward the apartment.

Lichenvale had never been buried in snow. Her home had been an oasis, warm and green in the heart of Mistwood’s frigid expanse.

The memory of Lichenvale as it now was made her throat feel raw and itchy. The Tree of Living Waters encased in ice felt very wrong.

She shoved the entry door open and stumbled upstairs, wanting an echinemon hug. When she entered the kitchen, Akila wasn’t there to greet her.

“Akila?” Merritt called, closing the door.

A growl came from her bedroom, and Merritt spotted something white and fluffy drifting down the hall. Something that should have been inside her duvet, she guessed. “Akila!”

She stormed into her bedroom, wading through an ocean of torn fabric and scattered stuffing. Blobs of polyester and cotton fluff covered the floor, spilling from ripped couch cushions and covering her unrecognizable bed. Akila lay in the center, snarling, with a small object clenched between her teeth.

It was the amulet.

Anger flushed through Merritt’s body. She clenched her fists, ready to yell, but the echinemon froze and looked up at Merritt.

She forced a long, slow exhalation. “You piss me off, Akila, but you’re trying to help. You’re not malicious.” She approached the echinemon. “What are you doing, girl? Why did you tear up my bedroom to find the amulet?”

Akila’s hackles rose, making her look twice her size. Her teeth clattered on the amulet as she chewed it but couldn’t pierce the steelwillow.

“You really hate that, don’t you? Why?” Merritt wondered.

Akila shook the amulet, ears slapping.

The way she attacked the amulet reminded Merritt of how she reacted to lizards.

“Dragons,” Merritt realized.

Akila growled.

“You’re dragons’ only natural predator. That’s why you attack lizards. You’re acting like you do when you see one.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Merlin’s ass rash! Merritt, you okay?” Tess yelled from the kitchen.

“We’re fine!”

Tess waded through the ankle-deep stuffing into her room. “What happened? Hey, Akila, leave that amulet alone!”

“Wait.” Merritt held out a hand to her. “I think she’s trying to tell me something.”

Tess hesitated. She wore a business suit with slits for her wings and a tired expression. “Like what?”

“Akila hates dragons. She’s attacking this amulet like it reminds her of them.” Merritt turned to her. “Like it has something to do with dragon magic.”

Tess’ eyes widened. “You might be on to something. Maybe that will help us learn more about the amulet.”

“Dragons and Lunar Fae have a history, right?”

“Goes back thousands of years to the first Lunar Dragon. Why? What are you thinking?”

Merritt ran a hand through her hair. “Eldrim found a mention of the Rift in a Lunar Fae scroll. Maybe that scroll says something about dragons, too.”

Tess grabbed her phone. “I’ll call him and get a picture.” She put the phone on speaker.

Merritt crouched beside Akila and held out her hand. “I need that back, please.”

Akila curled her lips back from her teeth.

“Teresa! How wonderful to hear from you!” Eldrim’s voice sounded tinny. “How may I help?”

“Hey, Eldrim. Merritt’s echinemon uncovered a clue about the amulet. She seems to think it smells like dragon magic.”

“Dragon magic, eh? That’s interesting. I never thought about that. Are you sure?”

Akila snarled.

“Akila’s sure,” Merritt told him.

“We were wondering if the scroll you mentioned—the one that talks about the Rift—says anything about dragons,” Tess added.

Eldrim sighed. “It’s incomplete, Teresa. It might, but the segments we have don’t mention them.”

“Could you send me a picture?” Tess asked.

“Certainly. I have it on my phone. One second.” Eldrim grunted, cursed, and muttered something about technology. “Do you have it?”

Tess checked. “I do.” She pinched the screen, squinting. “Oh, this is interesting.”

Merritt straightened. “What is?”

Tess showed her the image of a charred scrap of parchment. Runes flowed over it, softer and more elegant than dwarven or Leshbolg runes.

“What does it say?” Merritt asked.

“Something about Mistwood North and ‘the Rift,’ as Eldrim says. It’s not the content that’s interesting.” Tess raised her head. “It’s the runes.”

“They are lunar runes,” Eldrim chipped in.

“There’s more to them than that. See how the lines slant to the left instead of to the right and the curves at the end of each upstroke? That is a specific runic dialect.” Tess tapped the phone. “We only saw that dialect used by the Lunar Fae who lived in the Deep.”

“Remind me.” Merritt rubbed her chin. “The Deep is where the dragons live, right? The subterranean world under Avalon.”

“It is,” Eldrim agreed.

“Hundreds of Lunar Fae lived there in ancient times, especially during the First Golden Age,” Tess explained. “Their connection with the dragons was profound back then.”

Merritt stared at the amulet, then at Tess. “I might know what the Rift is.”

“You might?” Eldrim cried.

“Yeah. We’ve been thinking that “the Rift” is magical or an interdimensional portal.” Merritt paused. “What if it’s a hole in the ground?”

Tess stared at her.

“An entrance to the Deep,” Eldrim murmured.

“What if that’s what my amulet does?” Merritt’s heart pounded. “It opens a gateway between Lichenvale and the Deep. Maybe my people had a relationship with the dragons in the First Golden Age, too.”

Tess’ lips tightened. “Then it’s no wonder the Furies want the amulet, Merritt.”

“Why?” Merritt’s heart clenched like a fist.

“Mordred occupied most of the Deep during the war. The OPMA is still cleaning it up, but the Deep is enormous, so it’s a mammoth task. Thousands of warped paranormals still live there,” Eldrim supplied.

Merritt gulped. “There’s an army waiting for a dark mage to come along and use them.”

Tess nodded. “Exactly.”

“If the Rift is what Merritt thinks it is, we need to confirm it,” Eldrim urged. “We can’t waste any more time combing through scrolls.”

“I agree.” Tess’ jaw tightened.

“What do we do?” Merritt asked.

“We go to Lichenvale,” Eldrim announced. “Then we open the Rift.”

“We’ll need to bring the team to contain whatever comes out of it,” Tess added.

Eldrim cautioned, “Merritt, we might bring dozens of warped paranormals into your home.”

Tess touched her shoulder. “We won’t do it unless you’re willing.”

Merritt stared at the pillow fluff covering the carpet.

“Lichenvale isn’t my home anymore.” She swallowed. “It’s a ruin. This is my home, and I’ll do anything to protect it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Tess spoke grimly. “We’re going to Lichenvale.”

Shadow and Akila bounded through the snow side by side, playfully snapping at the snow their churning paws threw into the air. The LRTVs pursued them in an arrowhead formation, Val leading the way.

Merritt was on Val’s right. The duchess leaned low over the handlebars, squinting into the frozen woods, her armor sparkling in the sun. Her warhammer rested on her back. Titus, Damian, and Eldrim rode the other three LRTVs. Tess, Tetra, and Merlin flew above them.

“We’re nearly there,” Merritt called. “We’ll see it from those trees over there.”

She doubted the fae and Tetra could hear her, but Liam’s response came through her earpiece. “Copy that. Thank you.”

The LRTVs slowed and halted beneath the thick trees. Tess, Tetra, and Merlin landed nearby as the others dismounted the vehicles. Shadow and Akila rolled, then shook the snow from their coats.

“Still have the amulet, Merritt?” Merlin asked. Snow dusted his robe, sparkling in the moonlight that rose from his skin.

Merritt patted her pocket. “Right here.”

“Any dark magic surges, Lee?” Val asked.

“Not picking anything up. I doubt the Fury is anywhere near you.”

“So far, so good,” Tess muttered.

Merritt gazed down at the snowbound valley. The image of Lichenvale as it used to be fluttered in her mind. “It’s so different.”

Merlin stepped up beside her. “It’s very different.”

Merritt looked up. “How do you know?”

“I never saw it before the massacre, but I guided the OPMA here afterward. I was still a hat then, but my senses were as keen then as they are now.” Merlin shivered. “I’ll spare you the details of how it looked and how you looked. Suffice it to say that this is a vast improvement.”

“Do you think the Rift had something to do with the massacre?”

Merlin’s wings stirred. “I don’t know, but I hope opening it will provide us with answers.”

“’Answers,’” Merritt echoed. “They’ve been in short supply.”

Val crunched through the snow to reach them. “This is Lichenvale?”

“It hardly seems worthy of the name compared to how it used to be,” Merritt admitted.

“I thought you didn’t remember Lichenvale.”

“I didn’t until the past couple of weeks.” Merritt wrapped her arms around herself despite the warm Mavka tunic. “Since I came back, my memories have been much more vivid.”

Tess joined them. “That’s good news.”

“Yeah, except that I bet it hurts like a bitch to see it now compared to the way she remembers it,” Tetra added.

Val winced. “I’m so sorry.”

“That was a rare and powerful moment of empathy for you, Tetra.” Merritt cracked a grin.

Tetra shrugged. “I can be nice.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tess muttered.

“Hey!” Tetra protested.

Merritt squared her shoulders. “We have work to do. We’d better use the LRTVs. These snowdrifts are too deep to walk down.”

Merlin cracked his knuckles. “Not for much longer. Are you ready, Teresa?”

Tess’ eyes widened. “Y-yes, sir. Fire?”

“No, wind. Fire would make a terrible mess.” Merlin extended his hands, and twin gusts of wind sprang out like horizontal tornadoes. Tess joined in, and a cloud of snow flew into the air and blew away. The fae walked forward shoulder to shoulder, clearing a broad path through the snow.

“Lunar magic.” Tetra chuckled. “So badass. Hey, did anybody bring snacks?”

“Tetra, why are you always the hungry person and never the person who brings snacks?” Val demanded.

Tetra shrugged. “I saw a giant spider nest back there. I’ll eat its eggs.”

“No!” everyone else chorused.

“I have trail mix. Please do not eat the spider’s eggs. They’re endangered.” Titus produced a colorful bag.

Tetra swiped it. “Thanks, mister.” She bit the corner off the plastic bag and ate it.

“Shall we proceed?” Eldrim suggested.

They followed the fae across the valley on bare dirt. Merritt had half-expected to see dry grass beneath the snow, but there was only naked earth with the occasional pale rock protruding like bones. The snow was ten feet tall on either side of the group.

Merritt knew the area had formerly been knee-deep in grass and bluebells and poppies. She tried not to think about it.

Akila walked beside her, and Merritt lowered a hand to her back, grounding herself in the present. “This was all green before the massacre. We built our homes by making trees’ branches weave together to keep the rain out. The roofs all had flowers on them. It was warm. We used to run around barefoot.”

“Hard to imagine,” Tetra remarked, spilling trail mix. “Ooh, delicious! Dead ticks!”

“Tetra, those are raisins.” Liam told her.

“Can you all focus?” Damian demanded. “Merritt’s describing her home.”

Eldrim gazed at the tall snowbanks flanking the path. “There was no snow here then?”

“None. There were steelwillows everywhere.” Merritt sighed. “Everything was alive and thriving.”

Damian clenched his fists. “Dark magic is a curse. The OPMA will never stop until every trace of it is wiped from every dimension.”

“Do you think that day will ever come?” Merritt asked.

“I don’t know, but we will try,” Val muttered.

“Lunar prophecies speak of a future when all will be well.” Eldrim shrugged. “Perhaps that will be the day dark magic dies and no one ever has to suffer again.”

“Maybe Lichenvale will be green again.” Merritt’s voice was wistful.

“You might not have to wait that long.” Val shrugged. “Mount Adalbern is a bustling dwarven city now, rich with history and magic. It was all rock until Shadow found it. If we rebuilt it, we can rebuild Lichenvale.”

“Maybe.” Merritt cleared her throat, fighting a lump. “Except that Lichenvale will never be full of Leshbolgs again. I’m the last one, and there’s nothing any of us can do about that.”

Damian shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Val slowed. “Merlin’s wings! That’s one huge-ass tree.”

They had reached the Tree of Living Waters. Tess and Merlin cleared a circle about a hundred feet wide below the branches. Hanging branches surrounded them like a curtain. Ice jingled on the leaves as Val pulled them aside and held them back for the rest of the team to follow.

An electric prickle ran up Merritt’s arms and legs as her feet touched the earth near the mighty tree.

“The magic is very rich here.” Tess knelt and pressed a hand to the ground. “It is muffled, though, like it’s far away.”

“Or sleeping,” Merritt suggested.

Titus offered the right word. “Dormant.”

“We have to be careful.” Merritt touched the trunk as the amulet hummed in and trembled in her pocket. “The tree is contaminated. I saw streaks of dark magic near the keyhole to the Rift.”

Merlin flexed his fingers. “I feel it above us, but it’s not strong.”

“Whatever contaminated the tree must have come through the Rift,” Val agreed.

Eldrim swung a pack off his back and rummaged in it for a thaumometer. “I’ll take readings.”

“I’ll document the tree and take pictures,” Titus suggested.

They spread out. Merritt couldn’t resist approaching the trunk. It drew her with a magnetic pull. She pressed her hands to the bark. An ordinary tree would instantly respond by brightening its blossoms or circulating its sap, but the Tree of Living Waters was motionless, not heeding her touch. There was no flush of light or surging response within it.

“Is it dead?” Tetra asked.

“Tetra, shhh,” Damian hissed.

Merritt lowered her hands. “It’s not dead. It’s like Titus said, dormant.” Sorrow pierced her. “It doesn’t know I’m here.”

Titus pottered around the trunk with a camera on a strap around his neck. “I haven’t spotted any other runes.”

“Nor have we.” Tess fluttered down from the canopy. “Only the keyhole you described, Merritt.”

“No clues as to what the Rift is?” Val asked.

Merlin landed beside Tess. “I cannot tell.”

“What about the tree?” Merritt asked. “Can you wake it, Merlin?”

“I tried.” The fae folded his wings. “I removed the black magic in the canopy, but the tree didn’t respond to my magic.”

“Thank you for healing it.” Merritt laid a hand on the trunk. “It’s not responding to me, either.”

“This isn’t about the tree, though.” Val folded her powerful arms. “It’s about the Rift. Seems there’s only one way to find out what it is.”

Merritt reached into her pocket and wrapped her hand around the amulet as a growl rose from Akila. “We have to open the Rift.”

Val nodded.

“That’s my cue.” Titus put the camera back in its bag. “I have very little interest in being caught up in a battle, thank you very much.”

“I’m no warrior either, Val.” Eldrim held up the backpack. “I brought something we’ll find useful, though.”

“What?” Val asked.

“Eluned stones and rings. The upgraded version.”

Merritt had no idea what those were, but Liam did, judging by his gasp. “The ones that form impenetrable wards?” he squawked.

“The very ones, Mister Miller.” Eldrim grinned.

“Okay, for everyone here who isn’t a hopeless nerd, what are they?” Tetra demanded. “Can we eat them?”

Tess elbowed her.

“They’re potent amulets. When arranged in a circle, they create a magical dome through which humans can’t see. More importantly, the latest upgrade makes it nearly impossible for anything to escape from the dome until we switch them off from the outside.” Eldrim produced a gold ring from the pack. “Titus and I will establish a perimeter around the tree with the amulets.”

“I can control them remotely.” Liam typed furiously, the clicks obvious in Merritt’s earpiece.

“I’ll give you the details,” Eldrim offered.

“No need. I hacked in. It’s fine; I have the OPMA’s permission. This is fantastic. Whatever comes through the Rift won’t be able to escape.”

“We’ll be trapped in here with it.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, no, sir. Don’t you know what my team always says?” Val smirked. “We’re not trapped with it. It is trapped with us.”

“You guys, what if we put the thing in the thing and nothing comes through the thing?” Tetra asked.

“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere,” Val observed.

Tess gasped. “Val!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“She’s not wrong, even if she lacks vocabulary. The Rift might not be what we think it is.” Merritt hefted the amulet in her palm. “Or it might be worse.”

“Whatever it is, we have to find out.” Val spread her hands. “Judging by the dark magic you saw around the keyhole, we’ll run into trouble either way. We need to know what we’re dealing with before more innocent people get hurt. Are you guys with me?”

“Always,” Tess and Tetra chorused.

“Of course.” Merritt gripped the amulet hard.

Shadow’s bark became a roar as he grew into the Red Bear beside Val. The one-ton beast shook the snow off his thick coat and bared yellow fangs through which crackles of red magic darted like electricity.

“Hello? I am Merlin,” the male Lunar Fae interjected, peeved. “Technically, this is my team.”

Everyone stared at him.

“I’m not on the team,” Damian added. “I’m, like, on the side.”

“You’re my favorite side. Like a grumpy French fry,” Merritt teased.

“Guys!” Val waved her hammer. “Focus. We have asses to kick. Eldrim, Titus, what’s your status?”

“We laid the perimeter, Val,” Eldrim responded.

“Activating,” Liam confirmed.

Magic crackled through the air. Merritt squinted through the willow branches and saw the air shimmering several feet away, encasing the open space at the tree’s foot in a transparent ward.

“Take notes, you two,” Val ordered. “We’re opening the Rift now. Merritt, that’s your cue.”

Akila snapped at the amulet.

“Save it for whatever comes through the Rift, girl,” Merritt instructed. She transformed. The amulet was puny in his massive palm, like a chickpea in his huge fingers. He shook his mossy hair out of his eyes and glanced at the location of the keyhole in the canopy.

Tess buzzed up beside him. “Can you reach?”

“No, but I can climb.”

He held the amulet close to his chest and reached for the nearest branch. The great steelwillow creaked under his weight as he swung into the branches. Vines sprouted from his feet and wrapped around the trunk, keeping him steady as he climbed to the canopy.

The vines thickened into branch-like structures, supporting him on the slenderer branches near the top. Merritt held up the amulet, and green light reflected off the bark on his palm. “Ready?”

Tetra flew over to a branch and perched. Caustic dust trickled from her fingers and sizzled on the branches, melting the ice. “Ready.”

“Ready,” Val bellowed. Red light glowed in her eyes.

Damian raised his hands, claws extending. Akila crouched and bristled.

The amulet’s pulses got faster. It vibrated so intensely it nearly wriggled out of Merritt’s hand as he held it to the keyhole. He slammed it into place, and brilliant light pulsed through the tree, searing his vision.

Merritt sprang back, vines snapping as he jumped out of the tree. The branches parted as he dropped to the ground and landed beside Val and Shadow with a thump that created cracks in the earth but didn’t hurt his invulnerable limbs.

“Here it comes.” Scarlet fire urged over Val’s warhammer.

Green magic surged through the tree, visible through its bark. Its branches burst free from their icy bonds with shuddering cracks that sounded like breaking glass. Ice showered around Merritt, Val, and Shadow as the steelwillow came back to life. New branches sprouted, thickening the curtain enclosing the group.

Merritt gasped and clutched his chest as he watched the vibrant magic rise in the tree. It had awoken, and it was like standing too close to a raging furnace and finding a crackling fire in a snowstorm. He wanted to flee but also to extend his hands toward its glory. Dozens of tiny white flowers bloomed on his body, budding and unfurling in seconds. New leaves sprouted from his jaw and engulfed his mossy beard, replacing it with a thick mass of thriving clover. The lichens that formed his hair fell out. Willow branches grew to reach his hips.

“Hey, look!” Tetra pointed. “Merritt’s having a Barbie transformation moment!”

Val’s head snapped around. “Merlin’s wings!”

“I heard that,” Merlin complained as he hovered above them with Tess and Tetra.

“Sorry.” Val blinked. “Merritt, you’re growing!”

He now towered over Val. His head reached the lowest branches.

Tetra fluttered down to perch on his shoulder. “So that’s what the amulet does.” She picked a flower, which tickled. “It makes you cuter.”

“He’s impressive, not cute,” Damian corrected.

“I’m stronger.” Merritt clenched his fists. “I feel like I could fight anything.”

“Great, because that’s not all the amulet does.” Val pointed. “Look!”

A shudder ran down the tree, and it showered them with leaves. The roots stirred beneath the ground, making Val stumble, then writhed against its trunk. They then parted and squirmed aside, revealing a hole so deep it seemed like pure darkness.

“The Rift,” Merritt thundered.

Merlin gasped. “Dark magic!”

“I sense it.” Val raised her hammer. “Get ready!”

Tetra zoomed off Merritt’s shoulder with a wasp-like buzz, and he ripped his bow from its quiver. He had an arrow on the string when the first warped para burst from the hole.

It might have once been a dragon, but now it was a misshapen hulk, skin slimy and covered in tumors and eyes opaque as in death. It dragged itself across the ground with twisted claws so long they spiraled in different directions, useless and brittle.

Merritt hesitated.

A silver bolt blasted from Merlin’s hands and slammed into the warped dragon. It threw its head back, shuddered, and collapsed. The slimy darkness faded from its skin as vibrantly colored scales reappeared.

Merlin landed in front of Val and Merritt, facing the hole, hands extended. A second para, humanoid but with far too many limbs, scrambled out of the Rift. It swung a sword at Merlin, who knocked it back with another bolt of moonlight.

The ground trembled. Distant yapping, hissing, and snarling grew suddenly nearer, and the smell of dark magic made Merritt’s stomach roil.

“Here it comes!” he thundered.

A mass of warped paras exploded from the Rift, fighting each other to get through the hole. Merlin blasted moonlight at them all. It sliced through them like a scythe, flinging them to the ground and cleansing them of darkness.

“Yeah!” Tetra cheered.

“Lunar power!” Tess punched the air.

Shadow snarled, the scarlet light behind his eyes intensifying as warped paras continued to pour from the Rift. One slipped past Merlin, lunged at Val, and died with a sizzle as Tetra cut it down with faerie dust. It melted into a puddle of black ooze.

Dark wings eclipsed the moonlight. Merritt spun as something winged flung itself on Merlin. He looked up a moment too late. His scream ended in a gurgle as it slammed into his chest.

“Kill it, Merritt!” Val bellowed.

Merritt loosed an arrow, and it punched through the winged para, its force yanking the beast off Merlin as he crumpled to the ground. His brilliant moonlight faded as the arrow nailed the warped para to the tree’s trunk.

Tess landed beside him and sheltered him in a ball of howling wind before the other warped paras could reach him. A bull-like being charged her, its six horns lowered, and Merritt fired again. The thing collapsed in a spray of black ooze. Blasts of rainbow faerie dust filled the air as Tetra held others back, but they kept coming, a black tide of evil pouring into Lichenvale.

A black tide. The memory was an icy hand that grabbed his heart. His pulse fluttered. the battle was blurred and distant compared to the memory.

His mother’s face, cheeks pinched and pale, fear shining in her eyes. Her lips moved, but he didn’t remember the words, only the urgency in her voice as she pulled something over Merritt. Then she charged toward the black tide of warped paranormals spreading over Lichenvale, swarming over the Tree of Living Waters, spreading up the mountainsides, and pouring through the spaces between the living homes as the male Leshbolgs rushed to meet them...

“Merritt!”

Merritt was on his hands and knees. He shook his head, willow branches rustling. Akila licked his cheek.

“Merritt!” Damian shouted over his shoulder as he stood between the Leshbolg and the Rift, claws raised. “Come back to us. We need you. It’s okay. We’re here. We’ll be…ahhhh!”

A horrible slimy thing with too many legs leaped at Damian, and he swiped a gash in its chest. Despite the black ooze spilling from its chest, the thing seemed to feel no pain. It slammed into Damian’s torso and bore them both to the ground, hissing and snapping as it tried to bite his throat. Damian sank his claws into its face and held it back.

Merritt lunged to his feet and fired again. The arrow pierced the thing’s skull, cleaving it in half.

Damian shoved its remains away and scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. “Nice to have you back.”

Warped paras teemed everywhere. Val’s warhammer swung in arcs of red flame, mowing them down. Tetra dipped and dove above her, blasting caustic dust that melted them, and Shadow fought by her side. Tess crouched beside Merlin, who was propped against a rock, head hanging.

Shadow reared and bellowed a sound that was like a word. A shockwave exploded from his jaws, flinging dozens of warped paras into the air. Several splattered against the tree’s trunk.

One darted beneath the others and charged Shadow. Merritt nailed it to the ground with an arrow.

Tetra cheered, but dozens more warped paras streamed from the Rift to replace the others. Merritt shot the largest, barely slowing the others as they trampled over its corpse.

“There are too many!” he yelled.

“My sensors say there are hundreds more,” Liam called. “Val, you can’t destroy them all. You have to retreat.”

“Are you insane?” Val swung the warhammer at the skull of a warped dragon. It ripped through skin, bone, and brains without slowing down, splattering black ooze everywhere. “We can’t open the dome. We’ll unleash those bloody things into Mistwood North!”

Merritt thought about Fedir. “We have to close the Rift. I can do it.”

“Go!” Val crushed a crawling thing’s skull with her boot. “We’ll distract them!”

Merritt slung his bow and leaped. Vines sprouted from his shoulders and reached for the nearest branches, then shriveled and collapsed in a blast of balefire. A shrieking warped dragon swooped through the trees, wings ragged and bone protruding from its outstretched paws.

Merritt landed hard, stumbled, and fell on his ass. The dragon flew to the other side of the tree before he could raise his bow.

“Go, Merritt!” Tess shouted. “We’ll hold it off!”

Merritt lunged to his feet and jumped again. This time, the vines grabbed the nearest branch and propelled him up the tree like a slingshot. The branches parted to allow him through, and his vines drew him nearer to the glowing amulet in the keyhole.

“Incoming dragon!” Liam screamed. “Val, look out!”

Merritt twisted as the vines carried him upward. The warped dragon swooped beneath him, strafing the ground with balefire. Val wrestled a boar-like thing that had her warhammer clenched between its teeth, unable to escape.

Merritt’s bow was in his hand before he thought. He aimed, drew, and loosed. The four-foot-long arrow plunged between the branches, twisting and spinning to avoid obstacles as his power guided it.

The balefire was feet from Val when the arrow pierced the dragon’s chest. The beast fell, its screeches ending in a bone-shattering thump as it hit the ground.

Val wrenched the warhammer from the boar’s mouth and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying. She raised the hammer and cheered.

“Yeah, Merritt!” Tess yelled.

“Watch out!” Damian shrieked.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Damian’s words came a second too late. Something hard slammed into the back of Merritt’s skull, and he saw stars. His vines faltered, and he plummeted, stunned, free hand flailing, finding nothing solid to hold on to.

A thick branch appeared beneath him. Merritt landed belly-first and clung to it, bow still in his hand but winded. His feet flailed over dozens of feet of air as the Tree of Living Waters writhed. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the tree, Merritt,” Liam cried.

Dark magic streaked the bark, pouring from its canopy and rising from the Rift. Its branches shuddered and twisted. One descended toward Merritt’s face, black with foul magic. Another appeared out of nowhere and slapped the first branch away in a shower of splinters.

“It’s like it’s fighting itself,” Tetra called.

“It is fighting itself.” Merritt pulled himself up, vines wrapping around the branch for balance. “It’s trying to stop me and also stop itself stopping me. Dark magic is consuming my tree.”

“We can fix the tree later,” Tess told him. “You have to close the Rift!”

Merritt clenched his teeth and sprang to the next branch. He dodged a deadly blow from a black branch. His next leap left him mere feet from the amulet. Branches struck and swarmed like snakes before him. Others yanked them aside to protect him. He could almost hear the tree telling him to hurry.

Merritt sprinted along the branch, vines reaching for higher boughs to keep his weight from snapping it. He jabbed the bow into the quiver and stretched his arms above his head toward the glowing amulet. His huge fingers fumbled over the smooth surface, but tiny green tendrils grew from his fingertips and wrapped around the amulet, giving him enough purchase to lift it out of the hole.

The green light instantly faded. The flailing branches froze, and the power drained from Merritt’s body. The tree shuddered, its roots returning to their original positions. The Rift closed on a warped para’s body, slicing it in half with a horrible squelch.

His strength left him like blood drawn through a syringe. In a blink, Merritt was human again…and she was falling.

She gasped, clutching the amulet as she tumbled through the branches. They lashed her face and bruised her arm as she bounced off them. She tried to grab one but missed. Then golden dust wrapped around her like a halo, arresting her fall.

“Don’t worry, girlfriend.” Tetra flew nearer and took Merritt’s hand to pull her upright. “I got you.”

“Thanks,” Merritt got out.

“Better get to the others. Shit’s going down.” Tetra pointed.

The Rift had closed, but dozens of warped paras filled the space inside the ward. Akila sank her jaws into the nose of a charging minotaur and bore it to the ground. Damian and Tess sheltered near Merlin, defending him with slashing claws and moonfire bolts. Val and Shadow rampaged through the creatures, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, but there were still too many.

Merritt drew her bow. Tetra clenched her fist, caustic dust sizzling in one hand as she supported Merritt with the other.

Merlin sat up with a gasp. “Five more minutes!”

Damian slapped his face. “Focus! We need you!”

“By my magnificently toned ass cheeks, you certainly do.” Merlin sprang to his feet, wings unfolding. “Begone, beings of darkness! Begone, creatures of black magic! Be⁠—”

“Less drama, more winning this fight,” Val snapped.

“Oh, very well. No sense of theater.” He spread his arms, and moonlight erupted from every pore, bright enough that Merritt had to shield her eyes. Its brilliance consumed the world, tickling as it passed over Merritt.

When her vision returned, the warped paras were gone except for grisly corpses scattered across the open space. Dozens of ordinary paras lay twitching and shivering on the cold earth as the darkness faded from them, fleeing in the face of Merlin’s moonlight.

Val sheathed the warhammer and flexed her shoulders. “That was fantastic. I needed to let loose.”

Tetra and Merritt landed near her.

“Stonehold Security kicks ass, as always.” Tetra held up a hand.

Val high-fived her. “You good, Merritt?”

“I’m fine.” Merritt held out the amulet. “I got it.”

Akila trotted over, growling. She seemed unharmed despite the streaks of black ooze all over her coat.

“You have one badass pet there, Merritt.” Val slung an arm around Shadow’s neck and leaned against him. “I should know. Everybody else okay?”

Damian looked pissed but unharmed except for a smear of blood on his cheek. Merlin fussily rearranged his white curls over the bruise on his forehead.

Val touched her earpiece. “We’re all clear, Liam. You can send the nerds back in.”

The ward crackled as Eldrim and Titus deactivated it.

Merritt tucked the amulet into her pocket and approached the tree’s trunk. Streaks of black magic still covered its trunk, oozing slime in some places. She rested her hand on the rough bark. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin joined her. “Our guess was correct. The Rift is not evil, Merritt. It is merely a connection between the Deep and Lichenvale. Your people must have had a strong relationship with the dragons.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember.”

“You will. So much has come back to you already. Now you know the Fury isn’t interested in your amulet because of any evil power. She wants to open the Rift.”

“Why?”

Merlin gazed at the hulking carcass of a warped dragon lying nearby. Merritt’s arrow had pinned it to the ground. The roc feathers were startlingly white against its black blood.

“These warped paras are not mere remnants of the war.” He plucked the arrow from the dead beast with ease and held it out to Merritt.

“How can you tell?” Merritt took the arrow, which shrank when she touched it.

“Dark magic corrupts and destroys, so no warped paranormal can stay strong for long. The darkness ultimately consumes and kills them. Sometimes they spend years crippled and suffering, but these paranormals were far from crippled.” Merlin’s silver and azure eyes darkened to navy blue. “Someone twisted them very recently.”

“What are you saying?” Val approached them, carrying more arrows like logs in her arms.

Merlin’s lips tightened. “There’s a dark mage in the Deep. A powerful one who wants to break through to Lichenvale using the Rift, as Mordred’s cult did at the massacre.”

Anger gripped Merritt’s chest. “As powerful as a Fury?”

Merlin nodded.

“They could be anywhere in the Deep.” Val dropped the arrows with a clatter. “It’s the same size as Avalon.”

“I alerted the OPMA to come for the rehabilitated paras,” Liam interjected. “Should I contact the dragons, too?”

“They have to search for a mage,” Merlin agreed. “We have to keep that amulet safe.”

“If we don’t,” Val added, “warped paras will flood Avalon.”

Merritt extended a paper bag that contained a chocolate espresso muffin with a good-mood charm through the window. The grumpy human on the other side looked like he could use it. “Have a great day, sir!”

The human snatched the bag. “Thanks.”

Merritt beamed as he walked away. “That’s the last of them, Owen.”

The brownie stood on the kitchen table, kneading dough with both arms, his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure this dough is right.”

“What’s it for?” Merritt went to the table. “The Danishes?”

“That’s right.”

Merritt pinched the dough. “It’s perfect. We can put it out to rise; it’ll be ready to roll tomorrow morning.”

“I thought my arms would drop off.” Owen extracted them from the springy dough.

Merritt lightly oiled a bowl. “Did you see that we sold out of the purple hair prank croissants and muffins today?”

“I can’t believe people like them so much.”

“The best part is that having purple hair is now a status symbol in Little Avalon. Shows you have friends who like to prank you.” Merritt giggled. “How cool is that?”

The kitchen door opened, and the restaurant’s Sylthana Elf owner popped her head around it. “You guys done yet? I made extra pitas and tzatziki if you want lunch.”

“Thanks, Kalyna. I’ll never say no to those.” Merritt plopped the dough into the bowl.

Owen spread cling wrap over it. “We just have a last bit of cleaning to do and one more batch of dough to knead.”

“There’s someone here to see you, Merritt,” Kalyna Chaplin continued. “A dragon. He looks important.”

“You go.” Owen slid the bowl out of the way. “I’ll knead the last batch.”

“Thanks, Owen.” Merritt wiped her hands on a damp cloth and tossed it into the laundry basket under the sink. She paused at the doorway, watching as the brownie kneaded a ball of dough the same size as him. Not long ago, Owen would have panicked if she stepped out of the kitchen, even for a minute. She liked his new confidence.

“He’s waiting in the restaurant,” Kalyna explained. “I gave him buttered rolls.”

“You’re the best, Kalyna. Thank you.” Merritt headed across the blue and white tiles on the restaurant’s main floor. The place was still closed, with the chairs stacked on top of the tables, except at the one nearest the window overlooking the back garden. A tall, bald humanoid sat there, munching a roll and gazing through the window at the blooming plants. His silk robe was gold, blue, and purple, the same colors as the scaly pattern on his scalp.

Merritt stopped. “Alugon?”

The high councilor smiled at her. “Hello, young one. It’s very good to see you.”

Merritt suppressed the urge to run over and hug him. She settled for warmly wringing his hand. “It feels like it’s been a hundred years.”

“Indeed.”

Merritt’s belly tightened. “Normally, I only see you when you move me to another placement.”

“I’m glad those days are behind you, Manniref. I beg your pardon, Merritt. Let’s sit,” Alugon suggested.

Merritt chose the chair opposite him. The dragon pushed the plate of rolls toward her and delicately wiped his fingertips on a napkin.

“You came a long way to talk to me,” Merritt hazarded.

“Not at all, young one. I came to Little Avalon to meet with Councilor Woodskin. This is on my way.” Alugon produced two scrolls from folds in his robe. “I discovered something you might find interesting.”

Merritt leaned closer. “What is it?”

Alugon unfurled the first scroll, which had amethysts and sapphires inlaid in its gold knobs. Gold script covered the parchment, and it also bore a drawing of six dragons chasing each other around a perfect circle that contained darkness and stars. It looked so real and vivid that Merritt doubted it was a mere painting.

“First, I will tell you more about the nature of portals to the Deep.” Alugon touched the striking image. “Although the Deep is in the same dimension as Avalon, creating an entrance to it isn’t as simple as digging a hole.”

“It’s not? The Rift seemed like a hole to me, though admittedly, I didn’t get a great look because of all the warped paras coming through it.”

“It’s not a simple process, young one. For one thing, Avalon’s crust is as thick as Earth’s in many places. Dwarves mine precious metals and gemstones thousands of feet below the surface, but they have never accidentally tunneled through to the Deep.”

Merritt inhaled. “My people weren’t miners, or I don’t think they were. I don’t remember any jewels in Lichenvale.”

“Establishing an entrance requires cooperation from the dragons. Only we know where the crust is thin enough to dig through—or have the earth magic to create a thinner place where desired. Strong magic shields the Deep from the surface, too.”

“Really?”

“For many centuries, no dragons came to the surface except me. We never lived outside the Deep. That changed during Mordred’s occupation, when Julie fought to give all paras the right to live in Avalon or the Deep, as they chose. Only recently did dragons move to the surface and other creatures below the ground.”

“Fascinating. I didn’t know that.”

“That dark period forced many dragons to leave the Deep, and the new unity Her Majesty brought encouraged other paras to move there after the war. However, surface paras had feared dragons for thousands of years, for good reason. Therefore, King Arthur and Merlin forged a layer of magic to separate the Deep from the surface. It functions like a huge spiderweb: dragon leaders use its power to sense breaches between the surface and the Deep.”

“In other words, we caused a mass panic in the dragon capital yesterday.” Merritt grimaced.

“The dragon capital is called the Nest.” Alugon hesitated. “No one there was aware that you opened the Rift. They could not sense its existence.”

“Why not? What about the spiderweb thingy?”

“It seems that someone compromised it. It didn’t notify us.”

Merritt shivered. “What kind of magic could do that?”

Alugon met her eyes. His were amber and filled with ancient knowledge. “The darkest kind.”

Goosebumps spread over Merritt’s arms. She hugged herself, staring at the drawing. “You...you mean my people were allied with darkness? They created the Rift and numbed the spiderweb magic? Why?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, nor do I believe the Rift was born of darkness.” Alugon pulled out the other scroll. “It was merely lost to history during the Second Pendragon War, as so many things were.”

Merritt leaned forward as Alugon spread the scroll. Draconic runes she couldn’t read wove between illustrations of three more portals with the dragon and night sky design.

“Three portals from Avalon to the Deep currently exist.” Alugon smoothed the scroll. “One is at the NYHQ, another is in New Camelot, and the third⁠—”

“That’s the Maw of the Deep, right? I’ve seen pictures. It’s outside Avalon Town.” Merritt sighed. “There are only supposed to be three. These must be pictures of them.”

“Slow down, young one. This scroll dates to the late part of the Second Pendragon War.”

Merritt raised her head. “Queen Julia built New Camelot, so it has only existed a few years. How come there are three portals on the scroll?”

“The third is the Rift.” Alugon traced the portal in the center. “The scroll suggests it was little used and opened into Mistwood North. This is the only reference to a third portal before New Camelot. It is so obscure that draconic scholars have long assumed the portal collapsed or Mordred’s cult destroyed it during the war since the spiderweb magic cannot detect it. This scroll does not mention dark magic.”

“Then the dragons and the Leshbolgs must have built the portal together.”

“Precisely. Your people were likely our allies, not Mordred’s.” Alugon ran his fingers over the draconic runes, seeming reluctant to meet Merritt’s eyes. “The Second Pendragon War ended in such chaos and darkness that I can barely describe it. Great swaths of Earth and Avalon became wastelands full of horror and filth. A dark mage could have altered the Rift during that time, using black magic to make it undetectable and preserving it for their sinister purposes.”

“You’re saying the amulet and the Rift aren’t evil?”

“I am. Dark magic was dormant during the Sylthana Era. Many believed the elves had destroyed it all. When Nimue began the war, dark magic all over the dimensions reawakened. The Rift would have been key to Mordred’s strategy.”

Merritt gulped, dry-mouthed. “My people were allies of Mordred, then.”

“No.” Alugon reached over the table and laid a cold, scaly hand over hers. “They were his targets. That dark mage opened the Rift from the inside to massacre the Leshbolgs.”

Merritt’s throat clenched like a fist. She tried to take normal breaths, but could not.

“I’m sorry,” Alugon murmured.

Merritt squared her shoulders and blinked quickly. “I can’t say it’s okay, Alugon, because that evil destroyed everyone I loved. Every time I learn more about them, I have something new to grieve.” She smiled. “But also something new to celebrate. My people were friends with the dragons centuries before the rest of the surface world dared to connect with them, so I’m proud of them. They were amazing.”

Alugon patted her hand. “Judging by my only example of your people, you are correct.”

“I have a new family now. A new tribe. They’re everything to me, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect them. What can I do to keep them safe from whatever is lurking on the other side of the Rift?”

“I believe we now know what that is. The Fury, or perhaps multiple Furies, are hiding there. It’s possible that Alecto came through the Rift during the massacre and made her way to New York.”

“The timeline fits.”

“One or both of the other Furies might be in the Deep. The dragons are focusing on finding the Deep’s side of the Rift, but in the meantime, learn as much about the Furies as you can. They seem to be the Leshbolgs’ greatest enemies.”

Merritt’s jaw tightened. “They massacred my people.”

“It is possible that they led the battle.” Alugon hesitated. “Revenge is a dark path, Merritt.”

“Revenge? Oh, no. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in protecting the family I have now. If that means learning everything I can about the Furies, that’s what I’ll do. Where do I start?”

Alugon released her hand, smiling. “The library in Avalon Town holds more knowledge than any of us realize. Lori Twigtoes, the librarian, will be delighted to help you.”

“Avalon Town it is.” Merritt stood. “Thank you, Alugon. I’m late for an appointment.”

“So am I.” Alugon rubbed his hands. “An appointment with the best meze platter in New York City, that is.”

Kalyna emerged from the kitchen with a laden tray. It was all Merritt could do to tear herself away from the delicious garlicky smell and depart.

Ylva slammed the pen on the table. It exploded, showering ink over the sleek modern surface. “May these infernal papers burn in the fire of ten thousand suns!”

A hush fell on the bank. Humans and paras gawked at Ylva and Merritt, who were in a cubicle on one side of the room. Dozens of people stood in line for the tellers or gazed at screens displaying phishing warnings and advertisements for life insurance.

Merritt attempted a grin. “Paperwork, am I right?”

The tension dissolved. Several people muttered in agreement.

“Sorry.” Ylva stared at the papers. “I don’t know any of these things, and it infuriates me.”

“I can see that.” Merritt opened her handbag and produced a package of wet wipes, which she’d learned to carry at all times. One never knew what Tetra would get into.

Ylva cleaned the ink off her hands and the table. The paperwork was relatively unscathed.

“Here.” Merritt fished a pen out of her bag.

Ylva took it. “You expected this to happen?”

“I expect everything to happen. That’s why I carry a warding amulet, a dagger, a box of breath mints, several tampons, some dog treats, a piece of rope, a phone charger and battery pack, bandages, duct tape, and an oil can.”

Ylva snorted. “You know how this world works. I envy you.”

“I didn’t always. I learned, and so will you. What field do you need help with?”

“This one.” Ylva pointed at the form. Her scratchy handwriting covered much of it, but she’d left one field blank: Place of Birth.

“You’re not sure where you were born?”

“It was in Valhalla, but I don’t know the street address.” Ylva’s shoulders slumped. “It was not a piece of information my mother shared with me.”

“She didn’t?”

“My mother shared little except blows and cruel words. I am not surprised that someone hired the Boilbloods to kill her.”

Merritt blinked. “Wow. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My life infinitely improved after I woke to find her corpse on the floor with a katana in her back and an elf in a black jumpsuit standing over her. I did not scream, just asked him if she was dead. He said she was, and he saw the bruises on my arms and face and asked if I wanted to come with him. I would have gone with anyone to get away from her.”

Merritt stared at her, trying not to picture the assassin scooping up a tiny, innocent valkyrie fledgling. “That’s tough.”

“It wasn’t. He was good to me; all the Boilbloods were. I was a pet until the day I killed a snake with my bare hands. Then I was their sister and ally, and they trained me in their ways.” Ylva’s lips turned down. “I am glad to be a true valkyrie in my people’s eyes again, but the Boilbloods were the only family I’ve ever known.”

Merritt’s heart stung. “It must be hard now that you’re away from them.”

“It is hard. What do I enter for my birthplace?” Ylva demanded.

“‘Valhalla’ is good enough, I’m sure.”

The valkyrie scribbled. She finished the form with no further violence, just cursing, which Merritt considered normal. They handed the form to a banker who issued Ylva a copper-colored card.

The valkyrie admired the card in the sunshine as they left Gold, Manns, and Sax. “Copper Level. What level are you?”

“Platinum, but I started out at the same level as you. Copper isn’t bad for someone who recently got their first job.”

Ylva brightened. “The Second Fist is a good place to work. Dante is respectful to me and the clientele are easily intimidated.”

Merritt decided not to comment on that part. “Let’s go to Jackson’s Market. I’ll show you how to use your new card to buy groceries instead of having them delivered.”

Ylva fell into step beside her as they passed the Second Fist. The pin oaks were a rich gold today, and a cool breeze eddied around them, reminding Merritt that fall was on its way.

“It must be a weird headspace.” Merritt tucked her curls behind her ear since the wind had thrown them into disarray. “You’re a true valkyrie now, but you were so young when the Boilbloods kidnapped you that you don’t know all the valkyrie customs.”

“All I know is how to be a Boilblood. Without that, I’m not sure what I am.” Ylva shrugged, wings rustling. “The White Roc doesn’t care what I think I am. I scratch the itchy place on the back of his head, and that’s enough for him.”

“I’m glad you have the roc. He’s a good friend, and very few paras have caused trouble in the park since he went to live there.” Merritt giggled. “He’s been great about staying near his end of the park and not scaring the children.”

“The roc has no desire to frighten anyone. He only wishes for companionship.”

“He’s not alone in that, is he?”

Ylva’s cheeks reddened. “What are you insinuating?”

“I’m saying it’s okay to admit that you’re lonely, Ylva.”

The valkyrie’s wings wrapped around her shoulders as if to shield her from Merritt’s words.

“I will stop by more often if you want,” Merritt added. “I’ve been trying not to intrude.”

“You have been good to me. It’s not your fault that I miss my family,” Ylva blurted. “They were assassins, but⁠—”

“But you care about them. Of course you miss them.”

Ylva kicked a pebble. “There is little I can do about it.” She forced her wings back. “Show me how to do this ‘shopping’ you speak of.”

Merritt stopped outside the paranormal grocery store. “We might be able to do more than you think. Did Thomas tell you they’re discharging him soon?”

“Yes. He is well enough to leave the clinic. The OPMA will shortly move him to exile with the rest of the Boilbloods in Avalon.” Ylva studied a crack in the sidewalk, not looking at Merritt.

“I’ve been thinking.” Merritt looped an arm through Ylva’s. “Who better to escort him to his new home than the Guardian of Little Avalon and a vassal of the Eternity Queen?”

Ylva tried to pull away. “What are you talking about?”

“You and I can take Thomas to Avalon, Ylva. Then you’ll get to see the other Boilbloods and spend time with your family.”

Ylva stopped struggling. “Would that be allowed?”

“It doesn’t break any Eternity Laws.”

The valkyrie’s eyes widened. “You...you’d arrange that for me?”

Merritt beamed. “Of course!”

Ylva’s cheek twitched. “Thank you. I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Sure. I’ll text you the arrangements now that you have a phone. Time to shop.” Merritt cheerfully towed Ylva into the store.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Merritt also made several purchases. She admired her favorite one as she positioned it in the middle of the table: a crystal glass vase containing yellow roses and pink peonies. “Perfect.”

Conversations filled Chaplin’s Kitchen, underlying the music trickling from a corner. Antin perched on a high stool, lyre cradled in one arm and his free hand coaxing a Sylthana melody from the strings. The chandeliers shed gentle light on the tables, where families, couples, and contented lone diners enjoyed what the humans considered Mediterranean cuisine with a twist. Paras knew it was authentic Sylthana Elf cuisine.

Leonie, who sat in the garlic-free zone with a handsome human, waved at Merritt. Merritt waved back.

She rearranged two of the peonies and stepped back. The table was perfect. She’d spent last night learning origami on the paranet and had folded the napkins into the shape of cakes. A tray of savory pastries she’d baked that morning waited on the table.

Kalyna hurried over, juggling two trays. “All good here, Merritt?”

“All good. Do you need an extra server?” Merritt asked.

“Matt called in sick. I’m trying to cook and serve at the same time,” Kalyna admitted. “I only have Hank and my sous chef, who’s working her ass off in the kitchen.”

“Merlin’s wings! That’s no good. Let me help.”

“I can’t expect that of you, Merritt.”

Merritt smiled. “Of course you can. You let me reserve a table and bring my own pastries.”

“I mean, you are the baker here. They’re as much our pastries as yours,” Kalyna pointed out.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Merritt took a tray. “I’m more than happy to help. I want to see how this goes down.”

Kalyna snorted. “I bet you do.”

“Hey, my last harebrained scheme worked out great, didn’t it?” Merritt nodded at Leonie and her boyfriend.

Kalyna chortled. “Can’t argue with that.”

Merritt reinstalled Kalyna in her rightful place as queen of the kitchen and hurried out with two plates of the famous prawn gyros for a human couple in the garlic zone. She poured their wine and wished them a nice evening as Agnes strode through the front door.

Merritt nearly dropped the wine bottle. She’d told Agnes they were having a girls’ evening and to dress up. For once, the dwarf had followed the assignment. She had listened to Merritt’s recommendation that she visit Isabella’s salon, so her formerly unruly copper hair lay in soft curls over her shoulders. She wore an ivory satin dress and a muslin evening wrap into which she tucked her hands.

“Agnes!” Merritt hurried over, beaming. “Wow, you look amazing.”

“Don’t say it so loud, kid.” Agnes looked around, plucking at the wrap. “People might hear you.”

“People can see you, and you look great. I’m so pleased!” Merritt put an arm around her shoulders and propelled her toward the table she’d prepared.

“You didn’t dress up,” Agnes grumbled.

“I have to help Kalyna for a second, but you won’t be alone for long.” Merritt steered her into a seat. “I’ll bring out the wine in a minute.”

“Merritt,” Agnes bleated

Merritt pretended not to hear. She struggled not to giggle as she scurried across the restaurant and sheltered in the kitchen.

It was 7:04, and Marcurio was never late.

One minute later, the faun strolled through the door. Merritt gasped. She’d thought he was over-the-top at home, but he looked like Willy Wonka tonight. Gilding and peacock feathers decorated his bright pink top hat. His tailcoat had matching gold buttons, and he wore his usual polka-dot waistcoat with a bow tie of an eye-searing yellow. Baggy but impeccably pressed pants hid his goat legs.

Kalyna paused beside her. “You weren’t kidding. That is the Laughing Cake Guy.”

Several diners nudged each other and surreptitiously snapped pictures as Marcurio looked around.

When he spotted Agnes, he froze. She hadn’t seen him yet, but he gazed at her, thunderstruck.

“That’s my cue.” Merritt sallied forth from the kitchen. “Marcurio! There you are!”

Marcurio turned. “Merritt, I…I… Did you know Agnes was coming? I thought…well, you invited me to dinner.”

“I did.” Merritt took his arm. “I didn’t specify with whom.”

“You’re setting us up?” Marcurio hissed.

Merritt giggled. “I sure am.”

The faun resisted when she tried to tug him forward. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Maybe not,” Merritt acknowledged. “And knowing Agnes, I won’t blame you if you want to walk out the door. But if you do, you’ll never stop wondering.”

He stared at her.

“You’ve spent your whole life wondering what might have been.” Merritt squeezed his arm. “Don’t you want to give that possibility a chance for one evening?”

Marcurio squared his shoulders. “I do.”

Merritt towed him across the restaurant. Agnes was frowning at her phone when they reached her.

“Look what I found,” Merritt trilled.

Agnes raised her head, and her eyes widened, then sparkled. Every line on her face softened. The change made her seem younger, as though the intervening years of work, loneliness, and suffering had disappeared and Agnes was once again a young dwarf at culinary school, glimpsing for the first time the faun she’d fall in love with.

The scowl snapped back into place. “What are you doing here?”

Marcurio cleared his throat. “Clinging to hope.”

Agnes didn’t protest when Marcurio slid into the chair facing hers.

“I’ll bring you a bottle of wine,” Merritt told them.

Agnes huffed. “A bottle? I’ll likely only stay for a glass.”

Marcurio wisely didn’t protest. He just smiled at her, his gaze on her face as though she were the only thing in the world.

Merritt almost bowled Kalyna over as she rushed into the kitchen.

“Is it working?” Kalyna asked.

“Too soon to tell,” Merritt admitted.

After an hour of running from table to table, Merritt had a moment to look over and saw that Marcurio had wrapped his hands around Agnes’ injured fingers. The pastries were on the table, forgotten. Merritt suspected the tiny cupcakes she’d decorated would remain uneaten too, but she didn’t care.

The look on Agnes’ face was worth any amount of effort.

Akila paced beside Merritt on a loose lead, her tail low. Merritt kept a firm grip on the leash as they walked down First Street in Avalon Town. Imposing government buildings flanked the broad road, two staid and featureless with signs saying Dragon Flight License Department and Department of Quadrupedal Affairs. Others were sandstone and had battlements with round towers and portcullises.

According to her navigation app, Merritt’s target was the tower across the road from the courthouse. The Eternity Flag snapped from the pointed roof. A smaller building cuddled one side of it, its signage designating it the new Lunar Fae wing.

“Avalon Town’s public library,” Merritt murmured, “and I couldn’t find an echinemon-sitter. What could possibly go wrong?”

Akila yipped and twitched her tail.

“We live in hope,” Merritt muttered.

She approached the library. All Avalonian buildings were pet-friendly since Eternity Law banned discrimination against four-footed paranormals with lots of hair.

The door at the tower’s base was open, and welcoming golden light flooded from within, defying the bright sunshine. Merritt stepped into the building and had to stop and gaze up in awe.

There were more books in this library than Merritt had known existed. Every available surface was a bookshelf: the walls, the wooden spiral staircase climbing to the roof, and the counter at the staircase’s foot. Reading nooks with cushions and blankets protruded from the tower’s windows like bubbles. Stacks of books teetered on reading desks and stood on the floor in neat piles. Boxes smelling of books waited in a heap by the front door.

“Whoa,” Merritt managed.

Akila sniffed the nearest pile. Merritt quickly pulled her back.

The books trembled, then rose. Merritt gaped as they soared across the library to the counter, at which an Aether Elf librarian stood, scanning each spine as the books pirouetted around her. With artful wrist flicks, the librarian sent them zooming off to their designated spots, their pages fluttering like birds’ wings.

Merritt followed the books to the counter, gaping. “You’re great at that.”

“You’re great at compliments.” The librarian turned to her. “Guardian Vale?”

“You know who I am?”

“I read.” The librarian laughed. “Even the news.”

Akila put her paws on the counter.

Merritt pushed her off. “Alugon said to ask for Lori Twigtoes.”

“That’s me.” Lori gestured at a basket on the counter that contained earphones. “Purple is for people who want to be left alone. Yellow is for studying people who need regular doses of coffee and tissues.”

“What about blue?” Merritt asked. “There are loads of those.”

“Blue is for people who want to talk to other people, which isn’t very popular.”

Merritt selected a blue set and put it on. “I’ll be unpopular, then.”

Lori laughed. “How can I help?”

“I want to learn about Furies.”

A shadow fell over Lori’s face. “You were on the team who defeated Alecto. We’re hearing very worrying news reports from the city. There must be another Fury, maybe two, on the loose.”

“I need to learn everything I can about them.” Merritt paused. “We think the Furies might have led the massacre in which all my people died.”

“The Lichenvale Massacre was the darkest event of the Third Pendragon War.” Lori shook her head. “I’m sorry about what happened to your people.”

“Thank you. If I learn more about Furies, I might help keep it from happening to others.”

“I can help you with that.” Lori grinned. “This way.”

Akila yipped. Merritt jumped as a cryptid emerged from behind the counter. He was about three feet tall and covered in floor-length golden hair. Merritt couldn’t tell if he had a face or where it was if he did.

The thing snuffled.

“Yes, honey. I do think she looks like the hot chocolate type,” Lori agreed.

The thing snuffled again and disappeared behind the counter.

Merritt just followed Lori up the staircase, books flanking them on either side. She scanned several titles: History of Dwarven Influence on Humanity Volume IX, Alchemy Basics for Beginners, Righteous Fury: The Story Behind the Gray Mare of Ballachulish, and Confessions of a Tennis-Playing Kelpie.

“You know the basics, I presume.” Lori turned into a reading nook. “Ancient dark mages were part of King Arthur’s court.”

“Yeah. That’s it, though,” Merritt confessed.

“Not many people know more. They’re a mysterious group. Lucky for you, you’ve come to the greatest collection of knowledge in any dimension.” Lori conspiratorially leaned closer. “The internet can kiss this library’s ass.”

Merritt giggled. “How do we get to that nook over there?”

It was inviting. Tucked into the tower’s wall like a bay window, its shelf formed a couch the perfect length for stretching out, with colorful cushions and an abundance of fleecy blankets. A table beside it supported an adjustable lamp.

“Magic, my dear. How else?” Lori extended her arms.

The staircase rattled and creaked. In panic, Merritt grabbed Lori’s shoulder and Akila growled as wooden steps unfolded from the stairs at their feet. It clattered as it stretched across the library and joined the reading nook with a click, attaching securely to the floor.

“This is awesome,” Merritt announced.

“It’s the Avalon Public Library, Merritt. It’s the best place in any dimension.” Lori beamed.

“I don’t have any books yet,” Merritt protested as Lori took the new steps.

“I can remedy that.” Lori raised her arms.

Books rose from their shelves, pages fluttering and spines creaking as they swooped across the library. They soared from the ground floor, rose from the staircase shelves, and detached from the walls high above to rustle past Merritt. It was like being in a murmuration of birds. Akila yipped and tried to catch a book in midair.

“Easy!” Merritt tugged her leash. “Behave, girl.”

Akila whimpered.

Merritt fed her a dog treat and followed Lori to the nook. By the time she reached it, a tidy stack of books stood beside the couch, ranging from a pamphlet to a majestic tome several inches thick.

“This should get you started.” Lori plumped the pillows. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Merritt sat; the couch was incredibly comfy. “I might stay here for the rest of my life.”

Lori laughed. “In that case, you’ll need refreshments.” She leaned over the railing. “Sweetie?”

The hairy thing snuffled far below.

“Would you get some snacks for Merritt?”

More snuffling.

“Thank you, my love.” Lori extended an arm, and a plate zoomed up. It landed on the table by the lamp. An arc of chocolate chip cookies followed and arranged themselves neatly on the plate. A glass of milk joined them without spilling a drop.

Merritt realized her mouth was hanging open. She closed it.

Lori winked. “Have fun. Call if you need anything.”

The elf strode away to shush an unruly customer in another nook who wouldn’t stop laughing.

Merritt nibbled on a cookie. “Mmm. Not bad, but they’re too crisp. Chocolate chip cookies should be chewy. Still, they’re nice enough.”

Akila sniffed her hand.

“You can have one if you behave,” Merritt told her.

The echinemon jumped on the couch beside Merritt and yawned, flexing her whiskers.

“That counts.” Merritt fed her a cookie.

Akila merrily crunched it as Merritt arranged the pillows, spread a blanket over both of them, and reached for the first book on the pile: Furies: What Do We Really Know?

The introduction was a long, boring rant about how the author had spent his life studying the Furies with little success. After Merritt wrestled through it, she found real information in the first chapter.

The Furies have existed longer than history, influencing the world with their intense magic. Mystery surrounds the three, but all sources agree on their names.

“Alecto” is the first. Though time has long since swallowed their original language, ancient sources record the meanings of their names. Alecto means “implacable,” indicative of her relentless anger and the futility of attempting to soothe her rage.

“Megaera” is the second. Her name means “envious,” which might seem less sinister than Alecto unless one has ever been the victim of a jealous act. The flash of envy in a friend’s eyes inflicts a mortal wound upon the heart. Megaera is the physical manifestation of that cruel part of us that says, “I want what you have, and furthermore, I want you not to have it.”

Last, “Tisiphone” means “avenger.” It implies the bloodlust of one who has suffered loss and whose grief has driven them to hurt those who hurt them. Her version of anger has fueled countless wars and blood feuds and claimed innumerable lives.

“Charming.” She turned the page and labored through a long debate about the Furies’ species. The author outlined multiple arguments, including the possibility that the Furies were an unknown species.

The Furies being a new species is the least likely scenario. The language from their time suggests that “Fury” is a title, not a species.

The author waffled but never reached a conclusion. Merritt had to eat three cookies to recover from his plodding prose.

The book’s conclusion made her heart clench. After describing the Furies’ betrayal of King Arthur and their role in the Second Pendragon War, the author spoke of their fates.

The war claimed many casualties on Mordred’s side as well as ours. It is therefore not a surprise that Megaera died in the Deep when the dragons hunted her down. Alecto met her fate in New York at the hands of the Eternity Throne’s united armies.

Though records of Tisiphone’s activities during the war are scarce, a Lunar Fae treatise describes her going into hiding after Mordred’s capture. To this day, despite intense efforts, no one has located her.

“They thought Alecto was dead.” Merritt closed the book. “But she came back, Akila.”

Akila snored, head propped on Merritt’s knee.

“The one we’re now dealing with must be Tisiphone.” Merritt swallowed. “Alecto came back, but that doesn’t mean Megaera did, too. Right?”

Akila sighed.

Merritt reached for the next book, a partial transcription of a court case during the First Golden Age. It dealt with a disgruntled farmer suing a pegasus owner for the loss of his corn crop, which the pegasi had eaten. The owner argued that the farmer should have had pegasus-proof fences or wards around his crop, and counter-sued the farmer for the value of a pegasus who ate too much corn and died.

“Aw, man.” Merritt turned the page. “That’s so sad. Poor pega… Wait, what?”

King Arthur addressed this case in the court at Camelot with the assistance of many wise advisers, most notably the High Mage and the Council of Justice—Megaera, Alecto, and Tisiphone.

“’The Council of Justice?’” Merritt paged swiftly through the case, which ultimately awarded the farmer the cost of his crop and fined the owner for neglecting his unlucky pegasi. In several places, the author quoted the Furies.

Tisiphone: An animal owner is responsible for that animal. It is a sacred responsibility that no one should take lightly. To fail to supervise loose pegasi or safely contain them is a criminal act expressing blatant disregard for the innocent and vulnerable life of another.

“Merlin’s beard.” Merritt lowered the book. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with her.”

She leafed through the other books, which added nothing. All described the Furies as Mordred’s evil compatriots during the war. Only the final volume, a partial Sylthana Elf scroll, agreed with the Lunar Fae records.

Merritt had to install a runic translation app to read the scroll. She moved her phone slowly over the parchment, which transformed the flowing elven runes into English words.

“This is a direct translation, so it doesn’t make a ton of sense,” she mumbled to Akila, who was not listening, “but it says that ancient humans worshipped the Furies as harbingers of justice.”

She rolled up the scroll. The lamp now replaced the daylight from outside. An owl swooped past the window, and crickets chirped in the garden below. Merritt folded the blanket, gathered up the stack of books, and carried them down the staircase to the counter.

Lori was in a desk chair with a book in her lap, snoring.

Merritt gently placed the books on the counter.

“Shhh!” Lori shot upright. “No shouting in the library.”

Merritt jumped. “Um, hi.”

“Sorry.” Lori rubbed her face. “Nightmares. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I found more questions than answers.”

“Maybe I can help.” Lori put her elbows on the counter.

“I’m looking for a link between the Furies and my people, but none of these books mention Leshbolgs. Do you have anything about them?”

Lori hesitated. “I have a record of the Lichenvale Massacre—a dwarven book mentioning the steelwillow trees and the Leshbolgs’ defense of them, and a memoir by Titus Dorian mentioning a Leshbolg encounter in Mistwood North.”

“Wow. You knew that off the top of your head?”

“I know my books, but I also searched for Leshbolg information a few months ago when you first made the news.” Lori grinned. “I had a feeling you would stop by sooner or later.”

“Oh.” Merritt blinked. “That’s very kind of you.”

“I’m sorry, Merritt. I hoped to find much more. I can fetch the memoir if you like.”

“No need. I spoke to Titus about the encounter.” Merritt sighed. “Thanks anyway, Lori. You’ve been great. I learned a lot about the Furies. I only wish I found a link between them and the Leshbolgs.”

She left the library and headed into a cool, crisp night. Akila immediately got the zoomies. The echinemon lunged at every leaf and passerby, jerking Merritt around on the sidewalk.

“Akila!” She clung to the leash. “Stop that!”

“Merritt?”

She looked up. Merlin stood across the street, resplendent in a bright robe on the courthouse’s steps.

“Hi, sir,” Merritt called.

Merlin strode across the street, heedless of several cars that had to slam on their brakes and a guy riding a giant pig who swerved to avoid squashing him. He reached the sidewalk as the pig’s squeal faded into the night.

“Fools,” he muttered, shaking out his robe. “Don’t they know the greatest of all Lunar Fae when they see him?”

Merritt squashed a giggle.

“I see you were at the library.”

“Yes, sir. I was researching the Furies.”

“Did you find anything on the Leshbolgs?”

Merritt looked away, twisting Akila’s leash in her hands. The echinemon pressed against her leg. “No. Lori has nothing new. It’s like...” She paused. “It’s like my people never existed.”

“I understand why you feel that way.” Merlin laid a hand on her shoulder. “But evidence to the contrary stands right here.”

Merritt looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Not only did the Leshbolgs exist, they still live. I’m looking at her.”

Merritt blinked.

“Paras all over the worlds know more about Leshbolgs now than they ever did because of you.” Merlin smiled. “Do you realize what that means, Merritt?”

“No, sir.”

“It means you get to decide what it means to be a Leshbolg. You define them by who and what you are. So far, Leshbolgs are heroic.”

Merritt straightened. “Thank you, sir.”

“I wish I could bring the Leshbolgs back, Merritt. I truly do, but I cannot. No one can. But they’re not gone. The world will know the Leshbolg people through you.”

He strode away, robe rustling. Merritt stared after him for several seconds before heading to the plaza and the portal home.

Merlin’s words rolled around Merritt’s mind as she rode the subway home with Akila in her lap. She had little time to focus on them, since every time somebody walked past, Akila tried to nip them.

“Stop that!” Merritt hissed, pulling her away as she snapped at a passing human.

Akila growled.

“Cut it out. We’re nearly home.” Merritt exhaled in relief as the train halted at Bay Ridge Station.

They disembarked and strolled past strip malls and apartment buildings, the brick cliffs blotting out the sun. It was early evening on Earth, but she had had a long day, and she would suffer from dimension lag tomorrow. She stifled a yawn as they neared Little Avalon.

The cramped feeling of the tall buildings in the human part of Bay Ridge eased as Merritt passed the gas station. Though Esmerelda Park wasn’t in sight, magic surged through the earth beneath her feet, and she relaxed her shoulders. The city cut her off from her magic and isolated her from her power, but Little Avalon’s trees and green spaces refueled it.

It was her home the way Lichenvale had been. That made her feel almost guilty, as though preferring Little Avalon to Lichenvale now betrayed her people.

Merlin’s words came to the front of her mind once more. It means you get to decide what it means to be a Leshbolg. You define them by who and what you are.

A memory surfaced. Merritt brushed the nearest tree for support. The bank and the Anne Building faded from view as the recollection consumed her, so close and intense that it snatched Merritt’s breath.

She lay in the grass beside the riverbank, gazing up at the Tree’s branches. A cool breeze stirred the mossy hair on her cheek as she watched fluffy clouds sail through the sky.

“Are you listening, Manniref?”

She turned her head and saw her mother’s face—the face she recognized from her last memory before the massacre. Her hair was red, too, and so long that it looked like a shawl spread out around her body as she lay in the grass. The shifting light made it look like copper, then crimson.

“Listen to me, love.” Her mother stretched out a hand and their fingers entangled. “You have a lot to decide at your age, but you get to choose who you are. It’s in your hands.”

Burning pain ripped Merritt from the memory. She gasped as Akila’s leash seared her palms and fumbled to catch it, but she missed. The leather slid between her fingers and Akila shot across the street, her hackles like silver fire down her back.

“Akila, no!”

She saw the shining grille of a car bearing down on the echinemon and her heart turned to ice. The driver braked, tires screeching, and missed Akila by inches. The echinemon didn’t slow down. Akila raced onto the opposite sidewalk, her furious roar rising in pitch.

Merritt sprinted after her. “Akila, leave him!”

Arion was strolling down the sidewalk. His pet wyvern trotted alongside on a leash. The reptile was the size of a small dog and had a bright blue bow around its neck.

“Akila, no!”

Akila launched at the wyvern, claws outstretched and jaws wide. Arion gasped and yanked one hand up. His telekinetic magic seized the wyvern and sent it flying above his head with a yelp of terror.

“Get down! Get down!” Arion cried as Akila jumped up and down, jaws snapping a few inches short of the floating wyvern.

Merritt tackled Akila to the ground, wrapping her arms around the echinemon’s furry body. “Stop! Stop it right now!”

Akila froze. When Merritt slowly released her, the echinemon flattened her belly on the ground, still growling. Her hackles were still up.

“Merlin’s hemorrhoids, Councilor, I’m so sorry,” Merritt gushed.

Arion’s eyes flashed as the wyvern floated into his arms. “You scared him!”

The wyvern whimpered and buried its face in Arion’s chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Merritt repeated.

“You have to get control over that animal, Merritt. She could have killed him!”

Akila exposed her teeth and snarled.

“Stop that,” Merritt hissed. “You’re not helping.”

“I nearly ran her over,” the driver, an orc, shouted through the open car window. “She needs training for her own safety. If you can’t control your pet, you shouldn’t have one!”

Merritt hugged Akila’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t that the animal that almost burned down our apartment building not long ago?” an elf on the sidewalk added.

Merritt’s cheeks burned.

Arion stroked his wyvern with a trembling hand. “She gets the message, everyone. Leave her alone.”

The driver moved off, and the elf shoved his hands into his pockets and marched down the sidewalk, almost shoulder-slamming Merritt as he passed.

“Thank you, Councilor.” Merritt gripped Akila’s lead tightly as she straightened.

“They’re not wrong,” Arion snapped. “You need to do something about Akila before she gets herself or somebody else killed.”

The councilor marched toward the Anne Building, cuddling the wyvern and whispering blandishments to it.

Merritt sighed and tugged Akila’s leash. “I really didn’t need this right now, Akila.”

The echinemon followed her home with her tail between her legs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Akila whined and clawed the front door as Merritt hooked her purse over her arm.

“No.” Merritt planted her hands on her hips. “Absolutely not. You’re not coming.”

Akila sat by the door, her liquid blue eyes on Merritt.

“I said no.” Merritt scratched her ears. “I’m sorry, but we can’t afford another scene. You played in the park for hours last night. You can cozy up in your bed for the afternoon. Damian’s here to keep an eye on you.”

Akila whimpered.

Merritt retrieved the toy stuffed with peanut butter from the counter. “You want this?”

Akila jumped to her feet and yipped, twitching her long tail.

“Here you go!” Merritt threw it.

The echinemon bounded after the toy, and Merritt bolted through the door and slammed it shut before Akila could follow.

She jogged down the stairs and found Ylva waiting in the entry. The valkyrie had used her newfound shopping skills. She wore a black leather jacket with slits for her wings and ripped jeans adorned with gold and silver chains. Black studs decorated her jacket’s shoulders.

“Punk rock vibe.” Merritt grinned. “I like it.”

“You do?” Ylva shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Suits you. You should visit Isabella and let her do your hair,” Merritt added.

Ylva tugged it. “Do what with it?”

“Anything?” Merritt hazarded. It was an unkempt black mess down Ylva’s back.

Ylva grunted. “Maybe. Can we go to see Thomas now?”

“Of course.”

Little Avalon’s clinic was near Chaplin’s Kitchen. The five-minute walk passed in silence despite Merritt’s best efforts. Ylva kept her hands in her jacket pockets and her wings tight to her back.

Thomas was waiting by the front door when they reached the clinic, his hands in cuffs. He wore blue scrubs that didn’t fit him, and his hair had grown to shoulder-length in the weeks since Merritt had seen him.

The Aether Elf gasped. “Leader!”

“It’s just Ylva now, Thomas.” Ylva’s voice trembled as she approached him, arms wide.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A burly Woodland Fae stepped forward, scalp bristling with porcupine quills. “Not so fast, valkyrie.”

Ylva stopped, her cheeks flushing.

The fae wore a security guard’s uniform. His chest was puffed out to display the badge-like logo on his shirt. He kept one hand near the shiny new baton by his side.

Merritt pushed past Ylva. “Good morning, Michael. How’s the wife?”

The guard’s face softened. “As perfect as ever. Thank you, Guardian Vale.”

Merritt folded her arms. “Why is this elf wearing handcuffs?”

“They’re magic-nulling cuffs, ma’am. Meant to keep this dangerous prisoner from hurting you.”

“Why would I cause harm to the paranormal who saved my life?” Thomas demanded.

“Silence.” The guard drew his baton.

“He needs to wear magic-nulling bracelets,” Merritt interjected, “but there’s no need for his hands to be bound.”

“I don’t know, ma’am.” The guard prodded Thomas with the baton. “He’s a dangerous one.”

“He hasn’t caused you a day’s trouble in the clinic, Michael. You know that as well as I do.”

“Yes, but he was an assassin.” Michael eyed him warily.

“So was she,” Merritt jerked a thumb at Ylva, “and she’s allowed to carry weapons. Uncuff his hands.”

Michael shifted his weight from one boot to the other. “I thought the OPMA would send a contingent to take him into exile.”

“They sent me.” Merritt grinned.

“You seem, well...” The guard fished for words.

“Harmless?” Ylva suggested. “She is more formidable than she looks. Which is not difficult, granted.”

Michael glared at Ylva. “I didn’t ask your opinion, Boilblood.”

“Okay, enough with the dick-measuring, Michael,” Merritt snapped. “Uncuff his hands and be done with it. We have a train to catch.”

“You’re taking these two assassins on the subway?” Merritt just held Michael’s gaze. “Okay, fine.” The guard took the cuffs off. “As you wish, Guardian Vale.”

Merritt gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you. Give my regards to your wife.”

The security guard stomped back into the clinic, muttering.

“Now you can hug.”

Ylva hurried to Thomas and embraced him like a sister.

The elf put his head on her shoulder. “It’s good to be outside the clinic, Ylva.”

“You look well.” She let him go.

“Thank you for visiting me as much as you did.” Thomas touched his chest. “The nurses tell me you were there even before I was awake.”

“It was my responsibility.” Ylva looked away. “I placed you in the situation that nearly got you killed.”

“You saved my life, too.” Thomas turned to Merritt and bowed. “Guardian Vale, I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me a thing. It’s what I do.”

“I wish I could thank the veterinarian who healed me. Is he well?”

“He’s fine. About to get married.” Merritt clapped him on the back. “I’ll send you pics from their wedding. Let’s get you to Avalon. Have you ever seen it?”

“On contracts.” Thomas flushed gray.

“Then you’ll experience it in a different way today.” Merritt pulled a new metro card from her purse. “I have a new skill for you to practice, Ylva.”

The valkyrie handled herself with surprising aplomb. She swiped the card and navigated the subway from Bay Ridge to 110th Street in Manhattan. An hour later, they crossed the street to Central Park, heading for the gneiss bridge that guarded the portal to Avalon Town.

Thomas had barely said a word on the subway ride. He was still silent as they left the sidewalk and crunched over grass. Merritt bent to touch a struggling dandelion, which straightened and unfurled new leaves. “You ever been through a portal to Avalon, Thomas?”

“Yes, Guardian Vale.”

“It’s Merritt. Seriously. Grab Ylva’s arm. It can be discombobulating.”

Thomas obeyed, and they stepped beneath the bridge.

Merritt’s portal sickness was only a twinge of nausea and a brief moment of dizziness as she stepped onto the colorful cobblestones in Avalon Town’s central plaza. At this hour on a weekday, so many paras crowded it that it was difficult to see the fist-sized gemstones that paved it. A gaggle of big yellow ducks in school uniforms quacked past. Merritt stepped aside so a towering minotaur in a business suit could access the portal. Flocks of tourists wandered the plaza, gazing open-mouthed at the bright banners hanging from every building and the eclectic architecture. The plaza had everything—a store built from a shipping container, a castle whose stern façade had arrow slits rather than windows, and a brownstone cafe that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the heart of Brooklyn.

Merritt turned to Ylva, who stared at the nearest building, a hair salon. An orc braided an elf’s long hair beside a cushioned table on which a giant white wolf lay, with curlers in her fur. “Ever been to the plaza?”

Ylva shook herself out of her reverie. “Only on contracts. I’ve sneaked through these crowds several times, following targets.”

“Never had the time to stop and look at this place, though,” Thomas added.

“You’re free now, Ylva.” Merritt touched her arm. “You can shop here anytime you like.”

Ylva’s jaw tightened. “He can’t.”

“It’s all right.” Thomas shrugged.

“How can it be all right?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do or how to interact with anyone here even if I wanted to, Ylva.” Thomas’ smile was sad. “I have spent my life looking at society from the outside. I do not know what to do within.”

“That’s what your exile is for,” Merritt encouraged him. “It’ll teach you how to function. When you earn your freedom, you’ll enjoy all the goodness normal life has to offer.”

“Normal,” Thomas muttered. “I never thought I would consider that a goal.”

They crossed the plaza slowly, pausing at every interesting store on their way to the tram station in the corner. Thomas was pale when they reached the station, where a knot of paras waited for the next tram.

“You okay, Thomas?” Merritt asked.

The elf clung to Ylva’s arm. “I’m fine.”

“You can trust her,” Ylva reminded him. “Speak.”

Thomas mopped his brow. “Exhausted.”

“It’s just a short tram ride to your new home.” Merritt took his other arm, making a mental note to compliment Niall for keeping him alive. If Thomas still felt the effects of blood loss after weeks of magical healing, he must have been at death’s door when Ylva brought him to Little Avalon.

They boarded the tram and steered Thomas into a seat. It set off with a hum of magic.

Ylva blinked. “This is much smoother than the subway.”

“That’s the new Aether Elf thaumatech they added last year from the Forest of the Mystic Dusk. A collaboration between the elves’ ancestral home and the modern royal family who lives in New York.”

“How do you know that?” Thomas’ color was returning.

“I don’t sleep.” Merritt shrugged. “So I read a lot.”

“You don’t sleep?” Ylva raised her eyebrows.

“Not unless I’ve been in male form. It’s very useful. I have plenty of extra time on my hands.”

The tram sailed through Avalon Town and left it behind after several minutes for the countryside beyond. It was idyllic, with soft green hills and flocks of golden-fleeced sheep wandering between stone cottages and well-kept hedges.

Thomas leaned his head on the window. “Is it much farther?”

“The compound is right over there.” Merritt pointed. “Those are its walls.”

Ylva stiffened as the tram neared the stone walls Merritt had indicated. “You have sent my people to a prison.”

Merritt grinned. “Wait until you see the inside.”

Thomas looked like he didn’t care as long as he got to sit down.

The tram stopped near the compound. Two paras waited with a horse-drawn wagon. Rich golden fleeces lay in a teetering pile in the bed.

Ylva gasped as the tram’s doors opened. “Leonardo!” She jumped up and rushed out. “Aklavik!”

The orc and the yeti waiting by the wagon turned to Ylva with wide smiles. Merritt helped Thomas off the tram as Ylva slapped the orc on the back and bowed to the yeti from the polite distance of several feet.

“You’re here! You’re not in chains.”

“There aren’t any chains here, Ylva,” the orc, Leonardo, told her. “Walls, yes. Chains, no.”

“Thomas, you’re alive.” The yeti shook his hand, the only physical touch his species engaged in.

“Alive and getting better.” Thomas smiled.

Merritt noted a sheepdog sitting quietly by the horses. He wagged his tail when she met his eyes, but he didn’t speak, even though his bearing told her that he was a Were.

“We’ll show you to the compound,” Leonardo added, “as soon as we unload these fleeces.”

He and Aklavik made short work of tossing the bundles of fleeces on the top of the tram and securing them. Everyone piled into the wagon; the sheepdog jumped into the back, and Ylva joined Aklavik on the driver’s seat as he took the reins.

“It looks like a prison,” the valkyrie growled as the horses trotted down a lane toward the metal gate in the wall.

“We’re freer there than we were on North Brother Island,” Aklavik told her.

Leonardo huffed. “Speak for yourself. I can’t wait to finish my sentence and get out of this place. It might not be a prison, but it’s not freedom.”

“Not yet.” Aklavik smiled. “It will lead us there, though.”

The weresheepdog wagged his tail.

The wagon rumbled between the gates, and Ylva’s jaw dropped.

Merritt smirked. “I told you to wait until you saw the inside.”

The compound could have held much of Esmerelda Park, and apart from the walls, it looked just like the outside. Golden-fleeced sheep grazed on green fields, some with thick fleeces sparkling in the sun, others newly shorn and skipping around on chubby legs as they enjoyed the cool breeze. There were no iron bars in here. Crofts dotted the hills, clustering around a larger central building from whose chimney a plume of wood smoke rose.

The hills’ vegetation was simple, but pulses of power ran through Merritt’s veins. This place had old and profound nature magic.

They halted the wagon beside a stone barn, scattering the chickens pecking in the yard. The weresheepdog jumped down and herded the chickens out of the way.

A tall werewolf emerged from the barn. “Ylva?”

“Nate!” Ylva scrambled out of the driver’s seat.

Merritt helped Thomas off the wagon as Ylva and Nate embraced. The werewolf had gotten a haircut since North Brother Island. It suited him.

“It’s good to see you.” Ylva was beaming. “It’s good to see this place, too. I feared they had sent you somewhere terrible.”

“We all feared that,” Nate admitted. “Dishonored Boilbloods suffered a far worse punishment than this.”

“Indeed,” Thomas rasped, sweaty and breathless.

“I’ll show you to your croft. You’re sharing with me.” Aklavik took his arm and led him away.

“We’ll check on Thomas later.” Nate clapped Ylva on the back. “First, I want to show you what we do here.”

“Sheep.” Ylva gazed at the fields. “It seems like you do sheep.”

“It’s fascinating. I’ve never seen the inner workings of a business before,” Nate gushed. “It’s all so…I don’t know, beneficial. We have to care for the sheep to make them produce the best wool. Then we take the wool to people who want it and give us money in exchange. No one gets hurt.”

“No one gets hurt,” Ylva softly repeated, watching as Aklavik led Thomas to a nearby croft.

“That’s true.” Leonardo unhitched the horses with practiced movements. “I hate the walls, I won’t lie, and I don’t think I’ll choose farm work when my sentence is over, but there’s something to be said for going for days without hurting anyone or getting hurt.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘peace,’” Nate murmured. “We have peace for the first time.”

The tension Ylva had carried in her shoulders since she came to Little Avalon leached away, and her chest rose with the first deep breath Merritt had seen her take. “Peace.” She smiled. “I like that.”

Ylva said little as they walked home from Bay Ridge Station, but the valkyrie moved more fluidly, with her wings back and her arms swinging.

“We smell like sheep,” Merritt observed.

Ylva laughed. “Who knew shearing sheep could be fun?”

Merritt grinned. “I’m glad you had a good day with the Boilbloods.”

“I did.” Ylva’s smile dissolved. “I miss them.”

“You have every right to. I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer, but you can visit anytime.”

Ylva blinked. “I can?”

“Not breaking any laws, remember?” Merritt spread her hands. “I might have arranged with the guards to let you in whenever you show up.”

Ylva stared at her. “You did that for me?”

“Girl, I fought a giant eagle for you. This was nothing.”

Ylva ran a hand through her hair. The silence continued until they turned down Lillie Street and passed the Second Fist.

“I miss my family.” The valkyrie looked down at Merritt. “But I’m grateful to have new friends.”

“I knew I’d win you over.” Merritt nudged her.

“Don’t touch me, Leshbolg.”

“Okay, okay.” Merritt laughed.

She left Ylva outside her apartment and climbed the stairs to her own. Damian’s voice rang through the door.

“Stop it! Hey! Stop it!”

Merritt hurried inside. Akila crouched on the kitchen table, chew toy in her mouth, tail high.

“Get off!” Damian yelled, clutching a bowl of cereal.

Merritt gasped. “Akila!”

The echinemon launched off the table and scrabbled over to Merritt, yipping in delight.

“Thank Merlin you’re here.” Damian flung himself into a seat and slammed his bowl on the table. “She’s driving me insane.”

“Sorry, Damian. Thanks for looking after her.” Merritt petted the echinemon’s head, trying to ignore the disappointment in her chest.

Damian looked up. “Don’t look so upset. It’s fine. I don’t mind pet-sitting, but you have to admit she’s chaotic.”

“So everyone tells me.” Merritt cradled Akila’s head in her hands. “I wish everyone could see what I see in her.”

Akila licked her wrists.

“I see that she’s bored and needs to go for a run.” Damian checked his watch. “Shit. Speaking of which, I’m late for work.” He dumped the bowl in the sink.

“Grab a bagel,” Merritt suggested. “They’re in the bag on the fridge.”

“Merritt Vale saves the day, as usual.” Damian seized one. “Bye.”

He swept through the door, and Merritt stroked Akila’s favorite itchy spot until the echinemon’s eyes closed in bliss.

“I have lots of things to bake for tomorrow’s fundraiser.” She kissed Akila’s nose. “But I won’t get anything done until I take you to the park, will I?”

Akila wagged her whole body at the magic word.

“Okay, then.” Merritt stood and grabbed the leash from the hook by the door.

Akila went ballistic. She bounced around the kitchen, yipping, with so much excitement that Merritt struggled for several minutes to catch her and clip the leash on. She was breathless by the time the echinemon lunged through the front door and towed her down the steps, yipping all the way.

“Yep, our neighbors must love us,” Merritt muttered. Though the Stonehold apartments were soundproof to an extent, there was no hiding Akila’s thunderous descent of the stairs.

The echinemon relentlessly pulled on her leash until they reached Esmerelda Park. Merritt wrestled her past the first few vegetable patches as Akila pulled so hard on her collar that she wheezed.

“Would you stop that?” Merritt hissed.

An elf strolled past, leading a poodle on a delicate gold chain. The poodle had three pairs of fluffy wings down its back and a scaly serpentine tail. Animal and owner shot Akila a judgmental stare as they passed.

“You’re making me look like an animal abuser,” Merritt muttered.

Akila strained at her leash and howled, pulling Merritt toward the pool at the foot of the waterfall that spilled down the rockery. It was gorgeous in the growing dusk, with the glow from the lamps that lined the path illuminating the feathery trickle of water and a dozen pinpricks of light showing between the rocks where the Little Folk who lived beneath the rockery had installed windows and doors in their homes. The warm yellow light from the underground houses reflected in the pool like stars.

“Whoa, girl. Wait until we get to the big pond,” Merritt ordered, tugging her back.

The leash’s clip snapped with a faint ping, and Akila hurtled away from her. Multiple Little Folk screamed as the echinemon leaped and landed in the pool with a colossal splash.

“Akila, come back here!”

The splash rippled out to the pool’s edges, washing several four-inch-tall gnomes in swimsuits onto the grass. A weremole fishing from a nearby ledge almost ended up in the pool when the water washed over him.

“Sorry!” Merritt ran to the pool’s edge. “Sorry.”

“It’s her,” a kobold squeaked.

“The Guardian!” a leprechaun cried in awe.

“Sorry,” Merritt repeated.

Akila ecstatically rolled in the pool’s shallows, filling it with mud. She clawed the mud into a messy pile at the edge and wallowed in it.

“Akila, not right now!”

Akila writhed around on her back, thoroughly caking her coat.

Merritt groaned. “Sorry, everyone. This is a natural behavior for her. Her magic turns it into armor when she’s in battle. She’s not just being a pain.”

“She sure doesn’t listen to you, miss,” a kobold child chirped.

“Lenny!” His mother hit him on the head with a fishing rod. “How dare you speak to Guardian Vale like that? Don’t you know she saved us all?”

“It’s okay, Hilda. He’s not wrong.” Merritt groaned. “Okay, Akila, that’s enough. Let’s go.”

Akila leaped out. She looked like a mudball with a pink tongue and blue eyes. Merritt looped the leash through the ring on her collar and led her away. “Let’s get you to the woods where you won’t cause as much trouble.”

Akila shook, liberally splashing Merritt with mud. The little kobold tumbled around in hysterics.

“Awesome. Thanks for nothing,” Merritt hissed.

Akila lunged from one side of the path to the other, almost yanking Merritt off her feet in her eagerness to explore every scent the park offered. Merritt didn’t want to pull the leash, but it was that or lose control. Akila didn’t seem affected, no matter how hard Merritt pulled.

Something rustled in a rosebush. “No! Please don’t—” Akila dove into the bush, dragging Merritt after her. “Akila!” Merritt clung to the lead. The rosebush bent its thorny branches aside for Merritt but wrapped its roots around Akila’s limbs to trap her. The echinemon howled in indignation.

“I’m sorry, girl.” Merritt crouched beside her, catching her breath. “You can go off leash when we reach the clearing, okay?”

Akila whined and stared after the lizard skittering into the grass.

“You and lizards,” Merritt grumbled. “I should get you a dragon-themed chew toy.”

Hooves rang on the path behind her. Merritt spun, clutching her chest, as a magnificent stag sprang across the asphalt. He was huge, his antlers spreading like mighty branches against the stars and steam jetting from his nostrils.

She fought panic, then squinted. “Niall?”

The stag swirled and shrank, becoming the willowy veterinarian. “Hey, Merritt. I heard you yelling. Need a hand?”

Merritt’s cheeks burned. “I’m fine. Out on a walk with Akila, that’s all.” She hauled the echinemon out of the rosebush, acquiring a thick layer of mud in the process.

Niall chuckled. “I can see that.”

“I have no control,” Merritt confessed. “It’s embarrassing, which is fine, but I’m worried that it might get dangerous.” She tried to brush mud off her shirt and made it worse. “Anyway, she’s the best thing in the world and I love her, so that’s that.”

“She’s amazing. She just needs training.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Merritt confessed. “I mean, there aren’t a lot of YouTube videos on training a sixty-pound mustelid who hunts dragons and turns mud into armor.”

“True, but we can figure it out.” Niall stepped forward. “I will help you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Niall. You’re so busy with the wedding stuff, not to mention the clinic.”

Akila shoved her nose into Niall’s crotch. He expertly deflected it and rubbed her muddy head. “I could use the distraction from the wedding stuff.”

“Still no luck on a venue?”

“No luck on anything.” Niall’s mouth turned down. “Our species differences never seemed to matter before, but now it’s like we’re the two most different people in any dimension. I want the venue to have trees and plants. Val wants it to be underground. I want soft fabrics and pretty flowers. She wants metal and fire. It seems impossible to find common ground on this topic. It makes me wonder if I even want a wedding.”

Merritt gasped.

“Not like that,” Niall hastily reassured her. “I love Val with everything in me and I want to be with her until the end of time and beyond. There’s no question about that. I wish the wedding was over, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so stressful.”

“I didn’t expect it to be this way. I thought we’d magically get along and we would never have any disagreements for as long as we lived.” Niall laughed. “Crazy, huh?”

“Maybe a little, but you’ll both love being married. There are a few hurdles to overcome before then, that’s all.”

“You could put it that way.” Niall sighed. “I came out here because we argued about the venue again after dinner. I needed to clear my head. If I can help you with Akila, so much the better.”

“I need the help.” Merritt grimaced. “She nearly ate Councilor Woodskin’s wyvern the other day.”

Niall smirked. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“Of course. He brought his precious wyvern straight to me for a full workup because he thought it might die of fright.”

Merritt clutched her chest. “Did it?”

“No, no. I gave it a clean bill of health and sent it home with vitamins.”

“What are those for?”

“Calming the worried owner.” Niall winked.

“Poor Councilor Woodskin. He’s such a decent guy.” Merritt stroked Akila’s head, forgetting how muddy she was. “Ugh. It’s her nature to roll in mud and fight reptiles, so I can hardly blame her.”

“We can’t change her nature, nor do we want to. We can make you two a team that benefits from one another and functions well in society.” Niall rubbed his hands. “Let’s start with the basics of reinforcement and conditioning. Did you bring treats?”

Merritt patted her pocket. “They don’t seem to help.”

“You have to get the timing right. They should be a reward, not a bribe.”

“Is there a difference?”

“It’s all in the timing. What basic commands does she know?”

Merritt eyed the echinemon. “Let’s go with ‘none.’”

“Then we’ll start with those.” Niall held out his hand. “Pass me a treat.”

He held it over Akila’s head, and the echinemon lunged to snatch it. Niall kept it out of reach.

“Akila, stop!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, she ignores you when you yell.”

“I had noticed that when she tried to eat Councilor Woodskin’s pet.”

“Don’t tell her what not to do. Tell her what to do.” Niall held the treat up again. “Sit, Akila.”

She stood on her hind legs, still trying to reach the treat.

“Not quite.” Niall stepped away so she couldn’t claw him. “Try again.”

The echinemon tilted her head, studying him with glittering eyes. Slowly, she drew her hind legs beneath her and lowered herself to her haunches.

“Good girl!” Niall gave her the treat. “Your turn, Merritt.”

“I’m a Leshbolg.” Merritt pawed in her pocket for a treat. “I can talk to animals, so you’re making me look bad.”

“Hey, I’m a weredeer. I talk to them too.” Niall winked. “Akila knows what you want. You two understand each other better than any human pet and owner. The trouble isn’t understanding. It’s motivating her to cooperate with you.”

“Okay.” Merritt turned to Akila. “Sit.”

The echinemon rolled onto her back and stuck her paws in the air.

“This is going well,” Merritt remarked.

“Be patient. To get her attention, make yourself interesting. Try changing your tone of voice.”

Merritt pitched it higher. “Akila, sit!”

Akila flipped up and sat.

“Good girl!” Merritt fed her the treat. “You listened to me. What a good girl!”

“She had a reason to listen to you.” Niall grinned. “Let’s work on the pulling. That’s a real problem for you.”

They spent the next half-hour walking up and down the path, with Merritt rewarding Akila each time the echinemon walked alongside her without pulling. By the end of the session, Akila pranced beside her, as fancy and obedient as a winged poodle-dragon thing.

Merritt rubbed her muddy head. “You’re a good girl, Akila.” She turned to Niall. “Thank you so much. I feel like I’ve understood Akila since the fight with Alecto, but this is the first time I’ve really communicated with her.”

“It’s all about that. She knows who you are; that’s why she can trust you. Just tell her what you want.”

“You’ve helped loads. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Merritt. It’s the least I can do. You’ve already put up with a lot of wedding drama from us.” Niall fell into step next to her as they headed for the gate, Akila obedient and quiet beside her. “I fear there’ll be much more to come.”

Merritt’s gaze wandered to the rockery. The Little Folk had re-emerged now that the pool’s waters were still. The rude kobold cast his fishing line into the pool, hoping for tadpoles.

The idea percolating in the back of her mind wasn’t ready to share yet, but it made her smile. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

From the outside, Little Avalon Academy looked like a daycare occupying no more space than the average single-family Bay Ridge home. Inside, through the concealments and wards that kept its paranormal students safe from human eyes, the school’s grounds stretched through its personal pocket dimension. Buildings flanked a central courtyard with a magnificent cast iron statue of the Eternity Queen with Val and Shadow on either side of her. It was new; Merritt had had Frode cast it as a birthday surprise for Val a few weeks ago.

Beyond the building were lawns and hockey fields, tennis courts, football fields, archery butts, jousting lists, a skating rink, with pegasus polo hoops towering above. Two pegasi wheeled around the hoops, riders crouched on their backs.

“Merlin’s wings! We’ll be late.” Merritt clutched a heavy basketball-sized ball to her chest as she hustled across the courtyard, squeezing through the crowd of paras milling between the stalls erected in the space. Teenagers with buck teeth and big glasses bombarded the bewildered parents of kindergarteners with information about their programs, which the snapping banners on their stalls advertised in loud colors.

Merritt all but elbowed past a werewolf family. Each parent pushed a triplet stroller with three snoring babies in it. One of the babies turned into a wolf pup and back several times in its sleep.

“Sorry, sorry.” Merritt skipped around them, hoping not to wake the pups.

“You’re Guardian Vale, aren’t you?” The mother stopped Merritt with a hand on her arm.

Late! The word rang through Merritt’s mind, but she stopped and smiled. “That’s right. How can I help?”

“Could you point us toward the food court?” she asked. “Someone gets cranky when he’s hungry.”

“Hey!” The father laughed. “I’m standing right here. Our pups are just too young to join the Humans and Houses club.”

“You’re never too young to join the greatest tabletop roleplaying game in history!” the teenager at the nearest stall lisped around his braces.

“This way.” Merritt gestured. “If you follow the yellow arrows, they’ll lead you to the food. Please don’t hold back. Every penny goes toward our plan to build a second dormitory.”

“You take boarding students?” the werewolf mother asked.

The werewolf father petted one of the pups, looking distraught at the prospect of being parted from them.

“We do. We’re the only paranormal school in Brooklyn,” Merritt explained, “and one of only three in the entire city, so we understand that not everyone can commute here every day.”

“I bet you get students from out of state, too. I didn’t know a para school like this existed on Earth.” The mother touched her husband’s arm. “Lucky for us that we live close by.”

The father relaxed. “Yeah. We do, but I get why paras send their kids to boarding school here. I’ll gladly buy extra hot dogs to support the cause.”

“Honey, you don’t need an excuse to buy extra hot dogs. It’s who you are.”

“Hey!”

The laughing family headed off, and Merritt scurried past the door to the food court, ducked down a walkway leading behind the buildings, and sprinted toward the pegasus polo field.

There were just as many paras here, or maybe more. Paras milled around, admiring the facilities.

Merritt was out of breath when she reached the polo field. The well-maintained grass stretched across a space the size of a football field, and hoops rose thirty feet into the air on either end. “I have it!” She waved the ball above her head.

One of the circling pegasi flicked its wings and swooped toward the ground, landing in a canter. Its rider wore the academy’s blue and yellow silks with white breeches and riding boots. Her pointed ears protruded from her white helmet.

“Thanks, Guardian Vale!” She held out a hand. “Sorry about that. I thought Dyrnivere had it.”

“You said you’d bring it.” Her vampire companion landed his pegasus beside her, skin shiny with sunscreen.

“Yeah, whatever.” The elf rolled her eyes. “I’ll kick your ass either way.”

“Guys, focus,” Merritt chided. “It’s time for the demonstration. You’ll give pegasus rides afterward, right?”

“Leading little kids around and around the field on our pegasi. What could be more fun?” the elf muttered.

“Cut the sarcasm. You volunteered for this.” Merritt tossed the ball to the elf.

She caught it with insulting ease and touched a rune on its side. Golden faerie dust leaked from its pores, making it weightless.

“I hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked,” she told her companion. Her pegasus tossed its head and danced, feeling her excitement.

“Go. Make it look good,” Merritt shouted.

The crowd thickened around the polo field as Merritt retrieved a megaphone from behind the scoreboard. She swiftly checked her notes on her phone, then turned to the crowd.

“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Little Avalon Academy. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to the first of many demonstrations today. Pegasus polo is an ancient sport that originated in the Himalayas before the First Golden Age. After King Arthur reached Asia on his quest to unify all paranormals, he brought the sport back to Camelot, and it quickly became popular among nobles of all bipedal species.

“Little Avalon Academy strives to make pegasus polo accessible to all income brackets with our scholarship program, so don’t let the cost of keeping a pegasus keep you from dreaming big for your child.”

She pointed at the pegasi circling above. “Pegasus polo is a fun, adventurous sport, and recent advances in safety equipment have reduced injuries. It improves confidence, agility, social and communication skills, fitness, and well-being. Players with regional, national, or dimensional wins also have a high chance of acceptance if they apply to any of the pegasus regiments in Avalon, and we’re about to show you why.”

The elf threw the ball high. It hung in the air, glittering with faerie dust, and the orc spurred his pegasus forward. The animal banked and flew toward the ball, ears pinned back in its streaming mane, and the orc lunged to snatch it out of the air.

Merritt would have loved to stay and marvel at the pegasi and their riders’ speed and agility, but she had another demonstration to set up. “Don’t forget to buy refreshments at the cafeteria,” she added. “All proceeds go to building our new dormitory!”

She tucked the megaphone under her arm and jogged to the jousting lists, where Hazelyn and Ronnie Jensen were overseeing the finishing touches on a temporary stage they’d erected.

“Almost ready, guys?” Merritt called.

“Don’t you worry, Guardian Vale.” Ronnie grinned through his thick golden beard. “It’ll be ready for the grand finale.”

“Thanks. I’m going to check on the food court.”

Merritt jogged away. This day had no time for walking. She paused to give directions to two more families before she reached the main building and traipsed down the broad central hall, extra wide to accommodate minotaur and centaur students, to the cafeteria. The food stalls around the walls all had lines. Merritt’s mouth watered at the conglomeration of delicious smells.

She made for a table in the back corner where Ylva sat behind stacks of cupcakes, bagels, muffins, and brownies. The valkyrie had her elbows on the table, listening as an elderly orc prattled. Owen tucked cookies into a paper bag.

“You know that Merritt came to me the first time she needed to bake something, don’t you?” Mrs. Ricci played with the string of pearls around her neck. “My sourdough starter set her on the path she’s on today.”

“She told me that.” Ylva smiled.

Merritt stared. She’d never seen the valkyrie smile like that; the expression was relaxed and genuine.

“You should try baking. Everybody needs a hobby,” Mrs. Ricci continued.

“It’s relaxing,” Owen added.

Ylva shook her head. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“That’s all right. Merritt didn’t either, and now she makes these!” Mrs. Ricci waved a quadruple chocolate cupcake. “Or you could try knitting. Or crocheting! I hear it’s all the rage with young people these days.”

“Crocheting? I could try.”

“I have a few friends over every Tuesday night to crochet. You should join us. I have plenty of extra yarn and hooks for you.”

Ylva hesitated. “I might do that, Mrs. Ricci. Thank you.”

The orc tottered off to sample bonnacon-stuffed chimichangas as Merritt reached the table. “Crocheting, huh?”

Ylva’s cheeks flushed. “She’s kind.”

“She’s the best. You should go. How’s Akila doing?”

“She’s chewing her bone.” Ylva lifted the tablecloth. Akila lay on her bed under the table, her muzzle liberally smeared with the peanut butter she adored as she chewed on a toy. Her tail twitched when she saw Merritt.

“Wow. You’re being a good girl today, Akila.” Merritt extended a hand to her. “It’s like last night’s training tired you more than all the running around in the world.”

Akila yipped.

“She hasn’t put a paw wrong all day.” Owen sealed the paper bag.

“She is intelligent. She wants to exercise her brain, not just her body,” Ylva announced.

Merritt laughed. “You’re an echinemon training expert now?”

“I have a brain. It, too, requires exercise. What is this crocheting Mrs. Ricci speaks of?”

Merritt stifled a giggle. “You should go on Tuesday and find out.”

“Perhaps I will.” Ylva dropped the tablecloth. “I miss my family, but so must you. You have established a new one here. I might be able to do the same.”

“I think you will.” Merritt peered into the cash box. “Wow, these are doing well!”

“People have come from all over the city to sample your baking.” Ylva rearranged a cupcake on the rack. “I cannot blame them.”

“Have a cupcake,” Merritt suggested. “I’m going to check on the Humans and Houses club’s game, and I’ll take Akila with me. She needs to stretch her legs and pee. Thanks for watching the table, Ylva.”

Ylva produced that warm and genuine smile again. “It is my pleasure.”

Merritt untied Akila’s leash from the table’s leg. “Akila, heel.”

The echinemon glued herself Merritt’s side and followed her across the food court on a loose leash. No one seemed to notice, though Merritt felt like she deserved a round of applause. She settled for giving Akila a treat at the door.

They wandered out to the courtyard. Merritt was relieved to see that the players had not yet come to blows. Paras continued to stream into the courtyard, paying a dollar to pet a show basan and fifty cents for prank gumballs that made you fart glitter. It would all add up. Merritt smiled. They’d build that dormitory and improve even more lives.

She was about to return to the sporting events when a new presence rippled over her skin like the first rays of dawn light breaking the horizon. Akila chirped.

“It’s her,” Merritt whispered.

Heads turned all around the courtyard as everyone sensed the magnificent presence. Queen Julia wandered through the gates, wearing leggings and a sweater that didn’t hide her shimmering wings. She had Princess Lillirelda on her hip. King Taylor held her free hand. Merlin drifted behind them, glowing.

Merritt hurried through the crowd. “Your Majesties, sir, it’s very good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Good morning, Merritt.” Merlin inclined his head.

“Hey, Merritt!” The queen beamed. “It’s a good day to help build a dormitory. Taylor, honey, don’t you think every soldier in the Eternity Palace needs a brownie?”

Lillirelda threw her toy dragon on the ground.

The king bent to scoop it up. “I sure do, babe.” He returned the dragon to the toddler, who threw it on the ground again, giggling.

“Lilli, baby, you think that’s cute game, but Daddy’s back won’t make it.” Queen Julia kissed her forehead.

“Whoa, wait a second.” Merritt held up her hands. “How many soldiers are we talking about?”

“Ten thousand or so.”

Merritt gulped.

“Don’t worry about it.” The queen waved a hand. “We’ll take everything you have and send it down to the kitchen. Dylan has a replicating spell I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps you would,” Merlin interjected, “if you applied yourself to the study of domestic magics.”

Queen Julia ignored him. “I’m here to spend money from the palace’s coffers.”

“Babe,” King Taylor protested as he picked up the dragon again. “We said we wouldn’t build this dormitory for the academy.”

“No, honey, we said we would give the academy an opportunity to earn its own money for the dormitory.” Queen Julia batted doe eyes. “I’m merely supporting their efforts.”

King Taylor laughed.

Merritt wondered how many things the queen had to think about every day. She had no idea how Queen Julia managed to care about interdimensional peace and the growth of paranormal education in this small corner of the world, but she was grateful she did.

“The brownies are this way.” Merritt gestured. “I will show you around if you like.”

“Merritt, we’ve been in battle together.” The queen smirked. “Call me Julie.”

Merritt gaped. “Your Majesty?”

“Not that. Specifically not that. Do you know how many times every day I hear ‘Your Majesty this’ and ‘Your Majesty that?’ It’s like having several thousand toddlers going ‘Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom,’ all day. Please. Call me Julie.”

Merritt ducked her head. “Julie it is.”

She led them across the courtyard, pausing to describe the live chess club (which included hand-to-hand combat and specific weapons for every piece), the thaumachemistry wing, and the smithing class Val taught twice a week.

“Where does she find the time?” Julie wondered.

“I have no idea, but she’ll do a smithing demonstration soon. You guys should stick around for that. It’s cool to see.”

“Absolutely.” Julie tickled Lillirelda’s cheek. “Maybe you’ll be a smith someday, baby.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” Merlin muttered.

“I gonna be a pwincess,” Lillirelda announced and flung the dragon on the ground.

Merlin snickered as Taylor bent down.

“Babe, father of my child, song of my soul, you have telekinesis,” Julie pointed out.

“That’s not the game.” Taylor returned the dragon.

Julie laughed. “Lillirelda, you already are a princess.”

“Always gonna be a pwincess.” Lillirelda cuddled the dragon.

“That’s true.” Julie stroked her child’s hair. “Does the academy have a waiting list, Merritt?”

“It does. That’s why we’re trying to expand. The list is two years long at this point.”

Julie and Taylor exchanged glances.

“Best we get on it, then.” Julie kissed Lillirelda’s cheek.

Merritt blinked. “You...you want to send Lillirelda to a regular school, Your Majesty…I mean, Julie?”

“She’ll have to be tutored at the Eternal Palace. As the heir to the throne, her education has to be very specialized. But at the same time, mine wasn’t.” Julie laughed. “I only found out I was going to be queen a few months before I took the throne, and I turned out fine.”

“Excuse me?” Merlin bridled. “You had me. Education doesn’t get any more specialized than that.”

“Fine?” Taylor kissed her forehead. “That’s understating it.”

“You became a heroine. You slew Mordred, established peace between all species for the first time, and ushered in a new Golden Age!” Merritt gushed.

“I helped.” Merlin folded his arms.

Taylor put an arm around Julie’s shoulders. “She was a heroine long before she was the queen.”

“You’re the cutest.” Julie leaned into his hug. “All the same, I want Lilli to experience some normalcy in her life. She’s the future queen, but she’s also my kid. I want her to enjoy being a child. Besides, should I fall in battle, she’ll still never be alone. I wasn’t.”

Taylor looked green at the idea but said nothing.

“We’d be honored to have her, Julie.” Merritt paused. “I’m sure Principal Chancellor won’t make you sit on the waiting list. You can enroll her whenever you like.”

Merlin threw his hands up. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Uh-uh. That’s nepotism, girlfriend.” Julie shook her head. “That’s not how I roll. I’ll put my name down like everybody else.”

They headed toward the fields, where Val had set up a portable forge and a small anvil. A crowd gathered as Merritt left the royal family happily watching to introduce Val to a massive round of applause.

She stepped aside as Val withdrew a glowing lump of steel from the forge, laid it on the anvil, and shaped it with rhythmic swings of the hammer. Despite the crisp day, sweat beaded on her tawny skin and dripped from her muscular arms as she worked.

Every eye was on Val, which gave Merritt a moment to breathe. She realized with a start that Akila was still beside her, as she’d been since she fetched the echinemon from the cafeteria.

“Good girl, Akila. You’re the best girl.” Merritt gave her a treat. “Thank you.”

Akila twitched her tail.

Merritt bit her lip. “Where’d I put my clipboard? I think the play is next.”

Akila yipped and got away from her, leash trailing as she bounded across the pegasus polo field.

Merritt’s heart jumped into her mouth. “Akila, no!” She remembered Niall’s lesson. “Akila, come here, girl! Come!”

Akila was a silver dart hurtling across the field. Merritt jogged after her, panic boiling in her belly. Not now! Please, not now.

The echinemon reached the far side of the field and dropped into a play bow.

“Come, Akila!” Merritt fished out a treat.

Akila spun and raced back to Merritt in joyful bounds, her tail swinging, carrying something in her mouth. She skidded to a halt at Merritt’s feet, eyes alight, holding the clipboard between her teeth.

“Oh, wow!” Merritt took it. “Good girl! You’re the best girl.”

Happy pride bubbled in her as she fell to her knees and petted Akila all over, praising her until she fell onto her back for a tummy rub, quivering with happiness.

“Seems you can add ‘echinemon trainer’ to your résumé,” Merlin observed.

Merritt jumped. “I didn’t see you there, sir.”

“I wanted to congratulate you.” Moonlight spilled from Merlin’s wings and a breeze swirled through his beard. “You have become a central player in Little Avalon. I hoped you would feel at home here. I didn’t expect you to become a cornerstone in Little Avalon’s success.”

Merritt stood. “Thank you for placing me here.”

“I can’t take credit for that.” Merlin stroked his beard. “It was Julie’s idea.”

“She gets many of her good ideas from you, sir.”

“That’s sweet. Thanks.”

“Guardian Vale!” A teenage orc in school uniform raced up to her. “Guardian Vale, ma’am, there’s big trouble!”

“What’s wrong?” Merritt asked.

“The sound system isn’t working,” the orc wailed. “The cable to plug it in broke.”

“It broke all by itself, huh?”

The orc’s cheeks reddened. “Maybe I had something to do with it.”

“It’s okay.” Merritt laughed. “I expected this. Look under the stage. There’s a cardboard box with Spares written on it. There’s an extra cable in there.”

“Oh, thank you, Guardian Vale,” the orc gushed. “I’m so glad we have a fae like you to help us.” She sprinted off.

The words slapped Merritt in the face like a wet towel.

“A fae like you?” Merlin queried.

Merritt ran a hand through her hair. “I suppose she assumed I’m a fox fae because of the hair.” Her hand trembled. “I’ve never said that.”

“Perhaps not, but have you been public about what you really are?”

Merritt spread her hands and stared at the freckles dusting her pale skin and the soft flesh and supple tendons flexing beneath. “You were right, Merlin. I am the definition of Leshbolg, and I’m thriving here. I’m doing good things, but what does that matter if no one knows I’m doing it in the name of my people?”

A cool breeze swirled around Merlin, ruffling his long silver hair. “You know how to change that.”

“I do.” Merritt clenched her jaw. “I have to do something. I’ll see you later.”

Akila stayed by her side as she marched over to the stage. A gaggle of kids were preparing their costumes for the short play the theater club was staging. Merritt knew what she had to do. That awareness quivered like an ice cube down her spine as she hurried backstage, fussing over everyone’s costumes. They were performing a skit about humans, but the young dragon had forgotten the wig he used to hide his scales and the werewolf’s puberty had cursed her with an explosion of facial hair. Having dispensed the spare wig and concealer, Merritt found that Val had finished her smithing demonstration and the crowd was moving toward the stage.

Nervousness quaked in her belly. Akila pressed against her, her hair tickling Merritt’s fingertips. Merritt stroked her back. “Thank you for being here.”

She strode onto the stage as the crowd settled. The sunshine was liquid gold as it spilled over the fields and illuminated the stage like a spotlight. Cheerful expectant faces turned toward her, many sticky after sampling the food hall’s delights.

Merritt knew many of the people, but her gaze lingered on her friends. Val was still sweaty from the forge. Niall cuddled her anyway, and Shadow lay at her feet. Tetra and Tess were bugging each other. Antin was by Tetra’s side. Liam and Qenzi were hand in hand. Owen had chocolate smears on his apron. Ylva stood to one side, gazing into the distance. Jackson Roott was there with his kids. Kenna and Callum Barclay sat with Blair Abercrombie and Yuka Melnyk from Anvil Brewery. Dante, Enzo, Arion, the royal family, Merlin, Mrs. Ricci, Agnes and Marcurio holding hands, Amber and Aurelio with eyes only for each other, and many more familiar faces were all in the crowd.

Her heart swelled despite her terror. She inhaled. For you, my family. She called their faces to mind: her mother’s red hair, her laughing sister, her bark-skinned brother. This is for you.

Merritt stepped to the microphone. “Having fun, Little Avalon?”

The cheer made the stage tremble.

“I’m about to introduce another talented young group, like the many others you’ve seen today. First, please give a round of applause to all the participants in today’s demonstrations and their teachers and coaches. There truly is something for everyone at Little Avalon Academy, and that’s worth celebrating!” Merritt raised her hands and clapped.

The crowd enthusiastically joined in. Julie raised her hands above her head, silver sparks flying from them with every clap.

“Thank you, everyone.” Merritt steadied the microphone on its stand. “We’re about to see another fantastic group doing what they do best, but first, there’s something I need to talk to you all about as my new friends and family.”

The crowd fell silent. Merritt saw a spark in Val’s eye.

“I want to express my appreciation for somebody else here. You—the people of Little Avalon. You’re the reason this place is so special. Love and acceptance are available to everyone. Little Avalon is about more than unity between the species. It’s about forgiveness, second chances, and providing new hope to the lost. Is there anything more noble?”

Ylva glanced at Mrs. Ricci, who took her hand with a grandmotherly smile.

“I came here as a war orphan,” Merritt went on. “Lost, scared, and alone. I vowed to do whatever it took to fit in. Little did I know that this community encourages individuality. It allows us all to stand out in our unique ways. Instead of burying our differences, it celebrates them. Duchess Eiravel, you’ve built something amazing.”

Val grinned as a spontaneous round of applause rolled through the crowd.

Merritt waited for the clapping to fade. “I didn’t fully grasp this community's kindness until recently. My past experiences had left me afraid to express myself, but the more I work with all of you, the more I realize how deep your acceptance truly runs.”

She stepped away from the microphone, opening up enough space. “The love and acceptance you’ve all shown Ylva Blodamaekir gives me the courage to do what I hope everyone in Little Avalon feels free to do, from the youngest kid at this academy to the great heroes who define us.”

She closed her eyes. “I hope Little Avalon gives us all the courage to be fully and unashamedly ourselves as Luna made us.”

The crowd hushed. Merritt spread her arms and transformed.

He stood before the crowd in his powerful form, so heavy that the stage groaned beneath his feet. His magic prompted roots to grow from the bottom to the ground, reinforcing it. That gave him a moment to concentrate on something other than the crowd, but after the stage steadied, he had no choice but to look at the people who’d known him as harmless Merritt Vale, the redhead who wore bright colors and baked cookies, not the deadly giant who now stood before them.

No one made a sound. Val grinned like a pumpkin. Merlin gave him a double thumbs-up. The hundreds who hadn’t known about him just stared, pop-eyed and slack-jawed.

He tried to come up with something to say but couldn’t.

Rory punched both arms in the air and let out a whoop like a wolf’s howl. “Yeah, Merritt! You’re even more badass than we thought!”

The crowd gave him a standing ovation that shook the timbers on which Merritt stood. He hadn’t realized this face could grin, but he did, bark creaking around his lips. Buttercups bloomed all over his body, interspersed with dandelions whose seeds drifted like snow over the crowd.

The applause went on and on. Merritt couldn’t find his voice, so he closed his eyes and allowed their acceptance to wash over him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The knock on the door caught Merritt with sticky hands as she kneaded Leshbolg bellyfill for breakfast. She rinsed them under the faucet and wiped them on her sweatpants before going to the door.

Tetra waited on the landing, looking furtive. She glanced around before leaning closer. “I’m here about Operation Rosy Deer.”

“Tetra, you can say ‘bridal shower.’ Val’s not here,” Merritt pointed out.

“You never know. Liam can do creepy shit with surveillance. I still say we speak in code.”

Tess wandered into the kitchen. “Is Tetra still trying to make us use codenames for napkin colors and cake flavors?”

Merritt giggled. “Sure is.”

“You lot have no sensibilities about governmental invasion of privacy,” Tetra grumbled.

“That was a lot of long words in one sentence. Do you need to sit down?” Tess smirked.

Tetra flipped her off. “I’m here about the flowers.”

“I have the flowers handled,” Merritt told her.

“Of course you do. You’re Merritt. You have everything under control. All I’m saying is, the other night I overheard her telling Niall how much she likes red roses.”

Tess’ eyebrows shot up. “Red roses? Who would’ve taken Val for a romantic?”

“I’ll add them, then.” Merritt jotted that on a notepad on the counter.

“You can’t leave that lying around. She might see it!” Tetra protested. “At the very least, it should be in⁠—”

“Code,” Tess and Merritt chorused.

“It’s okay, Tetra. We’ll keep this secret.” Merritt patted her shoulder and yelped when acid stung her hands.

“Tetra!” Tess yelled.

“She’s the one who wants us to be ourselves!” Tetra raised defensive hands.

A crash erupted from the house next door. Everyone froze.

“What was that?” Tess asked.

“Shit. It came from Lillie House.” Tetra bolted downstairs.

Akila bounded from her bed and followed as Merritt sprinted after the faerie, Tess hot on her heels. They spilled into the street and ran toward Lillie House as someone yelled, “So that’s how it is now? We’ve escalated to throwing things?”

It was Niall. Merritt hadn’t known he could get so angry.

She passed Tetra and ran through the garage to the living room.

Val and Niall faced each other over the coffee table. The shattered remnants of a mug lay on the carpet on Val’s left, a streak of liquid showing its path down the wall.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t agree with me on anything!” Val had clenched fists. Red magic crackled over her skin.

“I agree with you on many things, Val,” Niall snapped. “I just want to have a voice in planning this wedding.”

“Voice?” Val scoffed. “You’ve done nothing but exercise your voice since we got engaged. I have so much shit to deal with right now that it’s not even funny.” She furiously ticked off the items on her fingers. “I have six thousand follow-up emails from the dwarf conference, there’s a nobility budget meeting coming up in Avalon Town, in case you didn’t notice there’s a Fury on the loose in the city, so I have to respond to every magic surge, and⁠—”

“You are not the only one with important shit on your plate,” Niall barked. “Do you know how many sick animals come into that clinic every day? Half of them have owners who haven’t kept up with routine care and want me to miraculously save their pets without paying their bills!”

“Cry me a river, Niall,” Val snapped.

Niall blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’ve done nothing but bitch and complain about this wedding.”

“You’re a fine one to talk!”

“I don’t understand why you can’t compromise with me!”

“Likewise! You can’t have everything your way, Val. That’s not how the world works. That’s not how marriage works.”

“Guys,” Merritt interjected.

Val ignored her. “I’m not sure this soon-to-be marriage will work!” The words hung in the air.

Niall stepped back, blinking. “Wh-what?”

Val’s face crumpled. “I didn’t mean that.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Niall, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I⁠—”

“Babe, it’s okay.” Niall stepped forward, extending a hand. “We can figure this out.”

“I’m sorry,” Val rasped. Merritt had never heard her choke on tears, but she was now. “I’m really sorry.”

“Honey…” Niall reached for her.

Val dodged his outstretched hand and pushed past him into the kitchen.

“I’ve got this.” Tetra bounced forward.

“I sincerely doubt that you do,” Tess protested.

“Let Tetra go.” Niall fell onto the couch, head in his hands. “She knows what she’s doing.”

The faerie disappeared in pursuit of Val, and Merritt sat on the couch next to Niall. Akila whimpered and licked his face.

“Hey, girl.” Niall stroked the echinemon’s back, chin propped on one hand, elbow on his knee.

“You okay?” Merritt asked.

“Yeah. I can hardly be mad at Val. I wasn’t on my best behavior either.” Niall rubbed his face. “I’m sorry you guys saw that.”

“We’re your best friends. Your family.” Merritt patted his knee. “We’re here for all of it, Niall, even the messy parts.”

The weredeer managed a smile. “Thanks.” He exhaled. “Don’t think badly of Val. She’s right. She’s been under unrelenting pressure lately. It was bound to boil over sooner or later, and I’m the closest target.”

“Everything will be okay,” Merritt told him. “She adores you, and you love her. You’ll find your feet again.”

“She’ll apologize in the next two minutes.” Niall chuckled. “I knew I was getting engaged to an MMA professional with a berserker state, so the odd angry outburst isn’t a surprise. Val always makes it right again. But this wedding thing is stress neither of us needs.”

Merritt frowned. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ll give in and let her have the wedding she wants.” Niall spread his hands. “So what if the wedding isn’t what I wanted? I can’t wait to be married to her.”

“That’s not right, Niall. The wedding isn’t only about the bride. You should get what you want too, even if you both have to compromise.”

“What I want is to see her happy, Merritt.”

She patted his arm. “Then you need to be free to be yourself. That’s who she’s in love with.”

Niall tilted his head.

“Give me a few hours, okay? Order pizza, cuddle on the couch, and remember everything you love about each other.” Merritt stood. “I have an idea.”

“A Merritt idea?” Niall grinned. “That’s just what we need.” He stood. “I’m going to hug my fiancée.”

“You do that.” Merritt rubbed her hands. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Merritt’s tiny paws skittered on damp earth. Though the tunnel was dark, her long whiskers guided the way better than her sight would have. She darted down the tunnel, her shrew form moving with blurry speed, and her nose and whiskers told her about the guards at the end long before she saw them.

She slowed and sat up on her haunches. A pair of ogres who were six inches tall flanked an open iron gate, holding spears.

“Guardian Vale.” One ogre’s eyes widened. “Is that you?”

Merritt cleaned her whiskers with delicate paws. “It’s me, boys.”

“Please enter.” The ogre bowed low. “Do you wish an audience with Chief Eike?”

“I do.”

“He’s in his castle,” the other ogre volunteered.

Merritt’s nose twitched. “His castle?”

“You’ll see it when you go in, Guardian Vale. You can’t miss it.”

Merritt eagerly scurried forward. She hadn’t been to the settlement beneath Esmerelda Park since it was a refugee camp rampant with disease.

The village was unrecognizable.

Previously, the canal that ran down the cavern’s center had been a sickly trickle of dirty water. Now it was a sparkling ribbon separating the streets of the village, paved with stones the size of Merritt’s pinky fingernail in human form. Homes with vibrant gardens clustered on the streets, painted bright reds, blues, and yellows. Sunlight streamed from strategic skylights in the earthen roof, falling in rich golden beams on the plants below.

Merritt wandered down the first street, tail twitching, staring at the Little Folk as they went about their peaceful new lives. A kobold sat in the shade of a blossoming bluebell, reading a book. Three young gnomes ran down the street, shoving each other in play, the bells on their pointed hats jingling. They almost ran into a pair of leprechauns, who shouted at them. The little gnomes ran off, giggling.

Joy and pride swelled in Merritt’s furry chest. She scampered to the canal and followed the main street, dodging the traffic. Little Folk drove toy cars with magic enhancements or mushed in sleds with teams of mice pulling them. One loped by on the back of a piebald rat, which gave Merritt a friendly sniff as it ran past.

She made a mental note to have Liam provide her with a tiny camera so she could take pictures down here. Val would be delighted to see her people thriving like this.

The thought of Val made her move faster. She hurried to the town hall at the back of the cavern. A field stretched to her left, divided into a patchwork of crops. Two ogres wrestled with a plow harnessed to a squirrel.

The last time she’d been down here, the town hall had been a large tent in which sickly Little Folk huddled together and wary guards constantly patrolled. A magnificent stone building had taken its place. It was several stories tall, with balconies and a pillared façade. Figures in bas-relief surrounded the double doors, and Merritt paused to study them.

On the left, concentric circles represented an explosion, with panicked Little Folk fleeing. On the right, Little Folk sat at a community table, enjoying a bountiful harvest.

At the top were two figures that made Merritt stare: a shrew and a bat, the forms Merritt and Damian had taken when they came here to investigate the corrupt magic the Little Folk had accidentally brought with them as refugees.

Merritt sat on her haunches and studied the relief. Pride warmed her bones. This was the Leshbolg heritage she now proudly wore in Little Avalon—a heritage of helping others.

She dropped to all fours and scampered down the hall beyond. More reliefs depicted a Lunar Fae sending rays of light at the sickly Little Folk and a series of images showing Merritt changing from a shrew to male form. They made her uncomfortable, so she ignored them.

Several guards smiled but didn’t try to stop her as she scampered to the central chamber. She slowed as she went inside. The room was vast by Little Folk standards, almost the size of Merritt’s bathroom at home, a huge hall to her shrew form. The walls rose to the skylight high above, filling the room with sunlight.

A wooden throne rose from the room’s center, and the kobold reclining on it wore all his finery. A fox pelt wrapped around his shoulders and poured over his arms to the ground. Gemstones glittered on the chain around his neck, but his crown was comprised of the teeth of small animals, their sharp canines jutting from his head.

His white eyes sparkled against his ruddy skin as he grinned, displaying needle-like teeth beneath a hook nose. “Guardian Vale! It’s good to have you here among us.”

Merritt bowed, her snout almost touching the ground. “Greetings, Chief Eike.”

“What are titles among friends? I spent a night in a shoebox on your kitchen counter, remember?” Eike threw back the fox pelt and descended the throne in a simple robe of white fur. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

Merritt sat on her haunches and shook Eike’s hand with a pink paw. “You’ve all been busy. This place looks amazing!”

“Thanks to your efforts.”

“No.” Merritt chuckled. “I helped make this a safe space, but you built something incredible here. I barely recognize it.”

“It’s so good to hear children laughing in my streets again.” Eike beamed. “I will show you the village. We’ve almost finished building a clinic with a grant from the Eternity Throne.”

“I’d love to see it, but not today. I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?” Eike laughed. The guards by the door laughed, too.

“What’s so funny?” Merritt cleaned her whiskers.

Eike put an arm around her furry shoulders. “It’s hilarious that you think you need to ask. We would do anything for you. You saved us. How can we help?”

“It’s not a small task, Eike.”

“Whatever it is, we will do it.”

Merritt explained what she needed, and his eyes narrowed.

“What’s wrong? Too much work? Not enough time?”

“No, no. We’ll do it easily.” Eike laughed. “Tunneling is nothing to us. I’m merely disappointed that you have not set us a greater challenge. We would have loved to serve you in a grander and more difficult way.”

“This is all I need.”

“In that case, Guardian Vale, consider it done.” Eike’s eyes sparkled. “Come with me. I’ll show you what we Little Folk can do when we work together.”

Merritt knew she’d asked the Little Folk for a miracle, and in a few hours, they delivered.

She had left them to their work for an hour while she sorted out a dispute between disgruntled neighbors and returned in human form. Apart from the narrow path the passage of hundreds of tiny feet had carved in the grass, the hill beside the rockery in Esmerelda Park seemed unchanged from this side.

Merritt walked around the hill and approached the other side. An arch opened into the hill like a doorway. Only darkness lay beyond—for now.

Eike stood by the arch, wrapped in his fox pelt. “The Guardian returns!”

Conversation came out of the darkness, the hubbub of a hundred voices. Earth hissed and picks clinked in the shadows.

“How’s it going?” Merritt asked.

Eike grinned. “We’re almost done.”

“Wait, what?”

The kobold gestured. “See for yourself.”

Merritt shot him an incredulous stare, then stepped through the arch.

She instantly got the sense of a vast space. Fresh air touched her skin. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a sandy floor extending a hundred feet to meet the earth walls in the new cavern. Thousands of tiny gouges marked the walls, which stretched ten feet above Merritt’s head. In places, streaks of ore and gemstones showed through.

She gasped. “How did you do this?”

Eike was beside her. “Teamwork, Guardian Vale. Teamwork.”

An army of Little Folk left the shadows, carrying tiny picks and shovels. Their smiles were brilliant in their grimy faces.

A leprechaun in the front row saluted. “One cavern, as ordered.”

Merritt laughed. “You told me it would be easy, but I didn’t really think it was possible.”

“Have some faith, Guardian Vale.” Eike nudged her shin. “We Little Folk are capable of great things.”

“Clearly!” Merritt spun, admiring its size. “This is perfect. It’ll blow them away.”

“I don’t see how it’ll work for the purpose you mentioned.”

Merritt smiled and spread her arms. “This is how.”

The earth responded to Merritt’s touch. Green light surged beneath the floor and crackled across the walls, and millions of dormant seeds awoke. Tender shoots burst forth.

Grass erupted from the ground at her feet, spread, and thickened into a green carpet stretching from one end of the cavern to the other. Creepers burst from the ground and grew across the walls, unfurling white and purple flowers.

The Little Folk gasped.

“Behold our Guardian!” Eike threw his arms in the air, laughing.

Merritt focused, and a sprout rose from the ground near the back of the cavern. It became a sapling, its growth accelerating as it reached the ceiling. The trunk thickened as mature bark covered its surface. Branches grew, and leaves unfurled. The dwarven ironwood tree became mighty in mere moments, its branches curving against the cavern’s roof.

Daisies exploded from the grass, forming a carpet from the arch to the tree. They fanned out to engulf the tree’s roots. Moss spread across the ceiling and extended between the tree’s branches. Lilies sprang up along the daisy path.

The creepers dripped flowers, but parted in places to reveal the red and gold streaks of iron ore and the brilliant blues, reds, and greens of uncut gemstones within the earth. Wild roses produced pink flowers along the walls in a thick hedge around the cavern.

Merritt was breathless as she lowered her arms. The Little Folk stared at her, open-mouthed. She brushed sweaty hair off her face. “Ready now?”

Eike applauded. The others followed suit, and when the sound bounced around the cavern, Merritt realized they’d nailed the acoustics, too.

The Little Folk went home despite Merritt’s attempts to have them stay and get the credit for their work. “It was the least we could do for you, Guardian Vale,” Eike told her.

She was alone with Akila as she waited by the arch, phone in hand. Several minutes had passed since she’d texted Tetra instructions to bring the unhappy couple here. Excitement tingled in her belly, and she couldn’t keep herself from pacing. Akila ran merry laps through the grass.

Merritt stopped to peer into the cavern again. She’d arranged an urgent brownie delivery of a box of will-o'-the-wisps in glass balls that now floated just below the ceiling, shedding their silver-blue light over the scene. A curtain of jasmine hung over the doorway, filling the air with its scent. All was ready.

“Tetra, you’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.”

Merritt jumped back as Tetra marched toward her, Val and Niall trailing behind. They followed the bend around the hill. Merritt was glad to see Val and Niall holding hands.

“I never act weird.” Tetra scoffed. She wore chain mail shorts, a voluminous sweater covered in pom-poms, and hot pink star-shaped sunglasses. “I’ve never been weird a day in my life.”

“Not a single day,” Niall dryly agreed.

“Hey, guys,” Merritt called.

“Thank Merlin. Merritt’s here. Everything’s fine,” Niall gushed.

Shadow bounded past the group and pressed his nose into Merritt’s hand. Merritt make them happy! Good girl!

Good boy. She rubbed his head.

Akila raced up to Shadow. They touched noses and charged off to play-wrestle on the lawn.

“What’s this about?” Val asked.

Merritt inhaled. “I told Niall that I had an idea for your wedding venue woes.”

Val’s shoulders tensed. “You do?”

“I’ve found a solution that should work for both of you.”

Val stopped. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’d rather enjoy a peaceful evening with my fiancé.”

Niall squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Val.”

“It really is.” Merritt extended an arm.

The jasmine responded to her magic and drew back, allowing the will-o'-the-wisps’ light to pour out of the cavern.

Val blinked. “What is this place, Merritt?”

“It’s your wedding venue. Custom-built.”

Niall tugged on Val’s arm, and she followed him into the cavern. Tetra joined Merritt at the arch as the couple walked down the path of daisies, yellow pollen dusting Val’s boots with each step. Every line of her body went soft as she turned left and right, staring at the flowers and the ironwood tree and the mineral veins in the walls.

Tetra tried to push into the cavern. Merritt grabbed her sweater and yanked her back.

Val and Niall stopped beneath the tree. Keeping one hand in Niall’s, Val touched the bark. “Ironwood. These are everywhere on the hills where I grew up.”

“They’re what I made your engagement ring out of, my love.” Niall raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Val spread her fingers, admiring the ring. “I dreamed of the moment you’d propose for months, but I never thought about what the ring would look like. I didn’t know what I wanted until I saw it.” She raised her eyes to Niall’s. “When I did, it was this.”

Niall slipped his arms around her. “I love you, Val.”

Her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry.”

Niall pulled her close.

“I’m very sorry for what I said. It was a stupid outburst in the moment. I’m stressed to the eyeballs, and it popped out before I thought about it. I didn’t mean it, honey. Please believe me.” Sobs hovered beneath her words. “You’re my world, and we work great together. This is just a rough patch.”

“I know.” Niall kissed her forehead. “You don’t need to explain. You say shit you don’t mean when you’re stressed and angry. It stung when you said it, but I didn’t believe it for a moment.”

Val buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on that.”

“I knew you were strong and fierce when I asked you to marry me. It’s among the many things I love about you. I can’t complain when you’re strong and fierce to me, can I?”

Merritt tapped her chin. “They’re perfect together.”

“This is boring,” Tetra complained. “When do we get to go punch shit?”

Merritt shoved her. “Shhh! They’re having a moment.”

Val pulled back and stared at the flowering creepers on the walls. The scent of jasmine filled the cavern. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know how it got here, but I know what it is.” Niall grinned. “The perfect venue for our wedding.”

Val’s eyes lit up. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to say, ‘I do,’ to you here.”

“Right under this tree.” Val gripped his hand and gestured with her free arm. “The seats on either side of this natural aisle, with wrought-iron decorations.”

“Oh!” Niall lit up. “I have an idea for the handfasting, too. You can do your part with iron, and I’ll do mine with vines.”

“The strength of life and the sturdiness of metal entwined together.” Val beamed. “I love it.”

Niall bent to touch his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Niall kissed her. Tetra gagged. Merritt elbowed her in the belly, and she gagged again.

Val was red-faced and grinning when Niall released her. She turned. “Merritt, you magnificent thing, how did you do this?”

“Not alone.” Merritt stepped into the cavern. “The Little Folk did the excavating. The plants are mine.”

“This is amazing. I—” Val stopped as her phone rang. “Crap. Sorry. That’s Liam’s ringtone. I’d better get it.”

“Go ahead, honey.” Niall left Val under the tree and strode over to Merritt. He wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thanks, Merritt. You helped us find each other again.”

Merritt giggled. “You’re very welcome. Seeing you two happy together makes me happy.”

“You know what makes me happy? Melting people’s faces. When do we get to do that again?” Tetra whined.

“Team!” Val thundered.

Merritt and Tetra whipped around. Val strode toward them, red lightning flickering through her hair and over her skin, sending scarlet flashes through the cavern. Scarlet light glowed behind her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Merritt called.

Val held up her phone. “Tell them, Lee.”

“It’s the Boilbloods. You need to move fast.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Akila bounded beside Merritt, easily keeping up as they ran across the park.

“Tess and Genevieve are on their way with your armor and weapons,” Liam told Val. “Take the NYHQ portal to the Eternal Palace. There’s no time to waste.”

“Face-melting!” Tetra threw her arms in the air. “Finally!”

“What’s happening with the Boilbloods?” Merritt asked.

“A dark mage is attacking their compound. The OPMA is trying to hold her off, but they need all the help they can get.”

“Her?” Val snarled. “A Fury?”

“Seems that way. She has an army of warped paras with her.”

“Shit,” Merritt muttered.

“An army of faces to melt!” Tetra giggled. “Best day ever!”

The roar of a V8 Cobrajet greeted them as they ran through the gate. Genevieve skidded sideways into the parking lot, gravel spraying from her wheels, her black-and-pewter body shimmering.

Tess stumbled from the driver’s seat and dispensed earpieces. “Weapons are in the trunk.”

It popped open as Val, Tetra, and Merritt ran to it.

“We should call Ylva.” Merritt snatched her bow and quiver and slipped the strap over her head.

“No time,” Liam yelled. “The Fury has reached the walls. You need to get there now!”

Genevieve produced a shuddering clank. Blue light seeped between her panels as the timbre of her engine changed.

Val yanked the warhammer out of the trunk. “Step back, everybody.”

“What’s happening?” Merritt stumbled back.

Tetra chuckled. “Seriously epic shit.”

They scrambled out of the way as blue light streamed out of Genevieve. She lifted off the ground with a hydraulic hiss.

“What’s it gonna be?” Liam wondered in Merritt’s earpiece.

“Last time she was a Shelby GT500. I bet that’s it. That thing’s got speed.” Val grinned.

Genevieve transformed panel by panel. Her pieces levitated apart, spun, and put themselves back together. Her engine swelled, two massive intakes sprouting from the front. Black-and-pewter panels changed to a darker color that altered depending on how the light struck it, black at first glance, then blue or purple as the sunlight struck the shiny surfaces.

The silver running horse on Genevieve’s nose spun and returned pitch-black.

“Merlin’s hairy armpits!” Liam yelped. “Is that⁠—”

Genevieve lowered herself to the ground and revved her engine with a furious crackle like flames flaring in an enclosed space. Though she was bigger now, her lines still sang with aerodynamic beauty, as they did in her ’71 Mach 1 form, but there was something intangibly different about her now. Everything pure and furious about her had been amplified and distilled to its most irate form. Even the forward-facing horse emblem on her side seemed ready to kick.

Val laughed. “She’s a 2024 Mustang Dark Horse.”

Genevieve revved again.

“Get in!” Liam yelled.

The seats folded forward as Merritt and Tess ran to the car. They crammed themselves into the tiny backseat, grunting as Shadow and Akila scrambled in with them. Genevieve magically expanded to accommodate them.

Val and Tetra jumped into the front seats. A touchscreen glowed to life on the dash. It flicked through several modes of its own accord, then selected “Track Mode” and played an animation of a Mustang with scarlet flames spilling over its sides.

Val chortled. “Okay, Gennie. Show us what you’ve…shit the bed!”

The Dark Horse leaped forward. Her acceleration slammed Merritt back against the seat, breathless, as they sped down Chester Way and swung onto Pendragon Street. When they reached the main street, the speedometer showed a number that made Merritt’s guts knot.

Liam cheered.

Merritt wrapped her arms around Akila and hung on as Genevieve charged across the city, her engine shrieking rage as she darted between cars and swished through intersections. She’d thought Genevieve was fast and powerful before. The Dark Horse’s fury took her breath away.

“Here comes the bridge!” Val cackled. “Go, Gennie, go!”

Tetra put her arms up like she was on a rollercoaster and whooped.

The Verrazano Narrows Bridge stretched before them, and Genevieve took it as a challenge. The bridge’s pylons flitted past, then became a continuous blur.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” Val whooped.

Merritt was impressed that Val could make a sound. The acceleration made her feel like her eyeballs were squishing into her brain.

Then the bridge was behind them. Minutes later, Genevieve swerved onto the NYHQ campus. Paras scattered as she rampaged across the lawn and skidded to a halt outside the military wing.

“You’re a badass bitch, Gennie. You’re beautiful.” Val scrambled out and slapped the ruby on her armband. Armor unfolded and encased her body.

Genevieve revved in farewell.

As they sprinted down the halls, military personnel scattered. Soldiers waited in the hall outside the portal room.

“Go, Val!” Major Raven Ardelean waved them forward.

They raced across the portal room and through the one labeled Eternal Palace.

Merritt’s feet hit a wood floor, then grass. She stumbled from portal sickness and grabbed Shadow’s ruff to catch herself. Green fields surrounded them, and the Eternal Palace rose into the sky on their left.

A column of black smoke rose on the horizon.

“Go, go!” Val snapped.

Shadow turned into the Red Bear, and Val vaulted onto his back. Tess and Tetra swooped away with a buzz of their wings. Merritt transformed, and a peregrine falcon flew after them.

She caught up with Tess and Tetra in seconds, and their wings made short work of the journey to the Boilblood compound. Her raptor eyes made out the scene below with gut-wrenching clarity.

Warped paranormals had spread across the hills, leaving black ooze and scorched grass behind them. The seething mass—a black tide like the one Merritt remembered from the massacre—was at the compound’s walls. Navy-uniformed soldiers swarmed the walls and fired into the chaos, but when some warped paras fell, others rushed to take their place. Within the compound, sheep ran around their fields in panicked circles, trampling the weresheepdogs in their haste.

“There!” Tess pointed. “That’s the Fury!”

Merritt’s gut lurched. The black smoke pouring from the warped paras cloaked the Fury in a dark veil, but she could make out the skeletal wings extending from her shoulders, the beak-like hook on her face, and the snakes writhing from her scalp and striking at nothing as she shrieked orders at her horde.

“We have to go after her,” Merritt shouted.

Tess touched her earpiece. “Liam says no. Our objective is to protect the Boilbloods. We can’t let those warped paras breach the walls!”

“That might be a problem,” Tetra called. “Here comes a giant!”

It had been a giant, but dark magic had twisted his mighty form into a misshapen blob. Cancerous lumps the size of Genevieve wobbled on his shoulders and arms with every step. Black ooze dripped off his skin, and he stared at the walls with three eyes, one of which was white and blind.

Shots from the closest wall blew holes in the giant’s skin, but he showed no pain as he slammed his fists into the wall. Bodies in navy uniforms fell into the yammering mass of warped paras below, but the wall held—for now.

“Tess, Tetra, Merritt, cover the defenders on the wall,” Val ordered via their earpieces. “Shadow and I will take the giant out.”

Merritt glanced down. Shadow sped beneath her, his coat sparking with magic as he hurdled walls without breaking stride and raced across the grass as fast as her hawk wings could fly. Akila was a silver streak beside him.

“Copy that.” Merritt wheeled toward the wall, transformed, and landed running among the defenders. In a smooth motion, she drew and strung the bow.

“It’s Merritt Vale!” someone cried. “The Stonehold team is here!”

A ragged cheer rose from the exhausted paras on the battlements as they fired another salvo into the chaos.

The giant raised his fists for another blow. Merritt nocked an arrow and trained it on the giant’s eye, but Shadow’s roar ripped the air before she could loose it. A shockwave of red magic slammed into the giant and sent him staggering. Shadow launched off the ground and sank his teeth and claws into the giant’s knee.

The hands that reached for Shadow dripped black ooze. Tess and Tetra swooped over the wall, strafing the attackers with faerie dust and moonfire, but Merritt couldn’t tear her eyes away from Val.

The duchess launched off Shadow’s back. As she plummeted toward the ground, she drew not her warhammer, but her other weapon: Gaia’s Sickle.

Armor clanked, and red magic flashed. When Val’s boots hit the ground, they would have fit the giant. She raised the sickle as red fire roared over its edge and smiled, lightning dancing between her teeth. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The giant swung toward her and charged.

“Yeah, Val!” Merritt waved her bow above her head, joining the defenders’ cheer.

“Look out!” Liam shouted. “Grappling hooks!”

Merritt heard the thin whine of flying ropes before she saw the hooks sail toward the wall, their ugly prongs biting the air. She kicked a defender aside, knocking him to the ground. The hook missed him by inches as it bit into the wall’s solid concrete and found purchase.

“Defend the wall!” Val roared, grappling with the giant as he strove to rip Gaia’s Sickle out of her grasp.

Merritt raced to the wall, and her arrow pierced the skull of a warped humanoid climbing the rope. It fell back, knocking several others to the ground with it. Their screams faded into the chaos of battle.

Tetra giggled. “I got this.”

She swooped past with a buzz like an angry swarm and fired targeted faerie dust bolts from her fingers. They sizzled through the ropes, sending a cascade of attackers to the ground.

Wings churned the smoke beyond the horde that continued to throw itself against the wall. The Fury was getting closer.

“Tisiphone,” Merritt yelled.

“What?” Tess landed beside her, silver fire wrapping around her hands and arms.

“The Boilbloods united with us to kill Alecto,” Merritt shouted. “Tisiphone is one of her sisters, the Avenger. She wants revenge on the Boilbloods because they killed Alecto!”

“Shit.” Tess’ eyes widened. “Then she won’t stop until she wipes them out.”

Merritt loosed another arrow. “Or until we stop her.”

The giant’s roar became a gurgling shriek when Gaia’s Sickle pierced his chest. His fist connected with Val’s helmet, bone crunching when it met dwarven steel. Val’s body bucked as she put her full weight behind the sickle. Its point protruded from the giant’s back, and Val wrenched it down, slicing the giant’s torso in half.

He collapsed at her feet. Val raised the sickle, red flames flickering through black ooze that covered it, and the defenders gave a wild cheer.

“Look out!” Liam cried. “Above you!”

Merritt’s head snapped up, and she spotted a huge wing shadow.

Akila’s shriek rose above the battle. The echinemon was fighting alongside Shadow, but she abandoned the warped horde and raised her nose to the sky.

Merritt’s first instinct was to scream at her to stop, but when the echinemon’s eyes found hers across the battlefield, she nodded instead. “Do what you have to do, girl.”

“Val, watch out!” Liam yelled.

The warped dragon fell out of the sky, a hideous conglomeration of wings, limbs, and tails that made no sense. Dark magic had twisted it into a beast Luna had never intended, a hulking, awkward monstrosity that didn’t belong in the sky. It half-tumbled as it dove toward Val, spewing balefire.

Val activated her shield and held it over her head. The black fire poured over the glistening metal, its force pushing her backward. Her boots left grooves in the dirt.

The dragon stumbled on landing, its three tails swishing, all tipped with spiked clubs. Val held the shield to her nose and the sickle at the ready. The dragon bared jagged teeth that poked out at odd angles and gathered itself to leap.

Akila got there first. The echinemon’s jaws closed on the dragon’s snout, a tiny silver speck against the massive beast, and she drove her claws into its snout. The dragon reared and flung its head back to dislodge her, but Akila scrambled up the snout and buried her front claws in its eye.

“You go, Akila!” Merritt brandished her bow.

A black tentacle slapped over the wall. Before its owner could drag itself up beside her, Merritt shot it down.

“Get down!” Liam screamed.

Balefire roared over the wall. Merritt dropped to the ground, curling around her bow as the black flames rushed overhead. Cries and screams came from the OPMA soldiers on the wall.

The flames receded, and rain pattered on the burned soldiers. Tess landed among them, fists clenched, with a black cloud forming over her head. “There’s another dragon!”

It was smaller than the first, but black flames gathered at the corners of its mouth.

Merritt drew her bow.

“More grappling hooks. Watch out!” Liam cried.

Merritt ignored him. Her world became the dragon’s bloodshot, rheumy right eye, the sunlight reflecting in a pale spot.

She loosed the arrow.

It sped toward the dragon, Merritt’s plant magic guiding its shaft. It swerved at the last instant to plunge into the beast’s eye.

“Merritt, no!” Tess screamed.

Metal shone in Merritt’s vision as the grappling hook came toward her, deadly prongs aimed for her heart. She completed her transformation before the flying hook reached her. When the hook slammed into his chest, it bit into wood, not flesh. The impact flung him to the concrete and dragged him toward the wall, but the steel prongs in his chest didn’t hurt.

Merritt roared in fury, not agony. Vines sprouted from his hands and feet, caught on the wall’s back side, and anchored him. Warped paras dangled from the hook in his chest. Merritt sat up, taking them with him, and seized the hook’s rope in both hands, then ripped it toward himself. The rope cracked like a whip over his head, and warped paras plummeted to their deaths on the other side of the wall.

“Merlin’s puckered asshole, that was cool.” Tetra landed beside him. “You good, big guy?”

“Ready to end this!” Merritt thundered.

He rose and wrenched the hook out of his chest in a shower of splinters. More hooks had found purchase on the wall, and warped paras swarmed up the ropes regardless of the gunfire punching into them.

Merritt still held his bow, but the arrows would be useless against the small paranormals. He raced along the wall, vines exploding from his back. His magic swept through him with a new intensity, and the vines were suddenly two feet thick. They streamed past him and swept attackers off the wall like scythes felling wheat.

Someone screamed his name, and Merritt turned back. Tess flew toward him, arms outstretched, but she was yards away when wings filled Merritt’s vision and claws dug into his shoulders.

Merritt grunted. The pain meant nothing to him, but when his feet left the ground, fear lurched in his belly. Skeletal wings with shadows in lieu of membranes flapped in his face, and snakes hissed. His vines reached for the wall and anchored to the concrete, but the Fury who had her claws in his shoulders was too strong. The vines snapped and rebounded toward Merritt, trailing sap and plant fiber.

More grappling hooks flew at the wall. Tess and Tetra couldn’t pursue when the Fury carried a helpless Merritt across the battlefield. He kicked his feet over the writhing mass of warped paras as they charged the wall. He still had the bow, but he couldn’t reach the arrows.

The Fury carried him in her claws, and her wings buffeted him. He glimpsed Akila, Shadow, and Val fighting the dragon and knew he was alone. “Tisiphone!”

The claws retracted from his shoulders. Terror pierced him just before he hit the ground on his back and skidded, clumps of earth spraying around him as he plowed through the dirt. He rolled to his feet, breathless but unharmed, and nocked another arrow.

Warped paras surrounded him, whooping and yowling. Merritt swung the bow from one side to the other, trying to choose a target, but none attacked. They were half a mile from the compound walls and formed an open circle around him. The field he stood on was slick with mud and black ooze, but the earth’s energy pulsed unabated through Merritt’s sap.

“Tisiphone?” The Fury’s shriek sounded like a rusted door hinge or fingernails scraping down a blackboard. She landed facing him, her zombie snakes writhing over her face, for some value of “face.” She had little more than a skull, teeth protruding in a grin toward the places where her ears should have been. Yellow eyes burned against the dull bone of her forehead. “Tisiphone? I am Megaera. I am envy, and I will have revenge upon you, Leshbolg!”

She lunged. Balefire engulfed her clawed hand as she struck. The talons sliced across Merritt’s cheek and burned as though they had punctured flesh. He stumbled back as the balefire penetrated his power. The pain blurred his vision and made his head spin.

Megaera’s cackle attacked his dulled senses. “You thought you were invincible!”

The stirring air warned him when she struck again, and he threw himself aside. Her claws bit into the ground instead, leaving furrows as he rolled to his feet.

“I will take from you what you took from me!” Megaera shrieked.

Merritt nocked another arrow. “We don’t need to fight, Megaera.” The pain faded, but the memory of it made his heart slam against his ribs.

“You took everything from me.” Black saliva oozed between Megaera’s teeth, foaming at her words.

“I didn’t kill Alecto because I wanted to. I killed her to protect my family. You would have done the same,” Merritt called.

Megaera snarled. “Curse Alecto!”

She lunged. Merritt loosed the arrow, but the Fury darted around the speeding projectile and attacked Merritt. He swung the bow to shield himself, and her claws skittered on Stonehold steel. Her wings buffeted his face, and snake fangs snapped inches from him.

Megaera kicked him, leg trailing balefire. Claws sliced Merritt’s upper thigh. The crippling pain stole his breath, and Merritt dropped to one knee. Megaera raised her talon for the death blow, and Merritt roared in fury.

Vines burst from his back and wrapped around the Fury’s face and neck. The snakes struck, but their venom was harmless to plants. Megaera’s screech became a strangled croak. She pulled back and cut several vines with balefire.

Merritt lunged to his feet and slammed the bow into her face. Megaera’s head snapped back, and the vines ripped her feet off the ground. She slammed into the dirt with a bone-rattling thump.

The circle of warped paras tightened like a noose as their leader fell. Merritt raised his bow to fight for his life, but they milled around several feet from him as if an invisible wall held them back.

He nocked another arrow and aimed it at the Fury’s heart as she lay stunned with his vines holding her down.

Screams behind him yanked his attention away from her—a chorus of mortal fear. He whipped around.

They’d breached the wall.

Warped paranormals swarmed the compound in an unstoppable dark tide, and the sheep and their shepherds scattered before them. The Boilbloods rushed forward to meet enemies they could not fight without weapons.

“No!” Merritt thundered.

Flashes of rainbow dust and silver fire said Tess and Tetra were trying to stop them, but it wouldn’t be enough. Val, Shadow, and Akila were still fighting the dragon. It staggered on three legs, the fourth a bleeding stump, but it spat gouts of balefire with unabated fury.

Merritt drew his bow. It had the range, but would the massive arrows pierce an enemy and strike a friend?

Lightning flashed in the clear blue sky, and an eagle’s scream joined the crack of thunder. The White Roc’s wings eclipsed the light as the mighty beast soared across the battlefield, lightning flickering between his feathers.

Merritt whooped. “Go get ’em, Ylva!”

The roc dove, Ylva crouching on his back. He swooped past the Boilbloods and struck the warped paras. His talons closed around multiple enemies and flung them against the wall, their screams terminating in meaty thumps. Ylva’s lightning toppled lines of warped paras in his wake.

Merritt whipped around to plant an arrow in Megaera’s heart, but his vines were smoking stumps. The dark earth behind him was empty.

Wings fluttered on the smoky horizon. Merritt could barely make out the Fury escaping. He thought to pursue, but the fighting here wasn’t over yet. He wouldn’t abandon his friends to go after her.

Merritt drew the bowstring to his face, aiming at the warped dragon. Before he could fire, Val slammed Gaia’s Sickle into the dragon’s skull. It collapsed, limbs twitching in death, and she crushed its head under her boot for good measure.

He lowered the bow and ran to her side. At ten feet tall, Merritt had to tilt his head back to look her in the eye. “The Fury fled.”

“We still have to stop the warped paras in the compound.” Val raised the sickle, which was limned in red fire.

Black ooze smeared Akila’s jaws. She howled for blood, and Shadow joined in, creating a spine-chilling chorus.

“Onward!” Merritt roared.

As one, they charged into battle.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sweat glittered on Thomas’ forehead as he held the warped elf over his head, squirming and squealing in protest but unable to escape his telekinesis.

Merritt ran to him, Akila at her heels. “Put him down, Thomas. It’s okay. We have him.”

Thomas exhaled in relief and lowered his hands. The elf hit the ground, and two OPMA soldiers slapped magic-nulling cuffs on his wrists.

“Where are the others?” Thomas mopped his brow.

“They’re okay. That was the last of the enemies,” Merritt told him.

The buzz of conversations had replaced the cacophony of battle. OPMA soldiers swarmed over the compound, arranging the warped paras in orderly ranks and marching them to UMMVs for transport to the Avalon HQ containment unit. Weresheepdogs sniffed the blackened grass where dark magic had destroyed fences, fields, and barns. Golden-fleeced sheep bleated from the barns in which they’d sheltered from the battle. The White Roc stood on the scorched earth, preening black ooze from his feathers.

Thomas’ face lit up. “Ylva!”

The valkyrie stood beside the White Roc, short sword in her hand. The other Boilbloods gathered around her.

“Go on.” Merritt smiled.

Thomas hurried off, and Merritt looked around for her team. Val, Tess, and Tetra sat on a low wall by a nearby barn with an OPMA medic in purple scrubs fussing over them. Shadow was at Val’s side.

Merritt and Akila wandered to them. Val winced as the medic, a dark-haired elf, touched a bleeding gash on her cheek. Blue light seeped from the medic’s fingers and knitted the wound together.

“There you are, Val.” The medic stepped back. “Put some tissue oil on the scar and it’ll go away in the next few days.”

Val prodded it. “Great work, as always. Thanks.”

“You got any snacks?” Tetra hopefully asked.

Tess inspected a shiny scar on her left forearm.

“No snacks. Sorry. I have a cigarette if you want one,” the medic added.

“Oooh, yes please.” Tetra held out a hand.

“Okay, but don’t tell anyone.” The medic dug one out of the pocket of her scrubs and gave it to Tetra. “Want a light?”

“Nope.” Tetra ate it. “Thanks.”

The medic looked horrified and rushed off.

“You good, Merritt?” Val asked.

Merritt sat on the wall beside her. “Yep. I’m fine.”

“That Fury got you in the leg.”

Merritt patted it. “It’s okay now. Super-healing is very useful.”

“Lucky,” Tess muttered.

“Ignore Tess. She’s pissy because you scared seven kinds of shit out of her when that Fury swooped down and grabbed you. To be fair, I thought you were a goner, too. What even happened?” Tetra raised an eyebrow. “We were all yelling our heads off.”

“I couldn’t hear you.” Merritt touched her earpiece. “This disappears when I transform, like my clothes.”

“Sorry about that, Merritt,” Liam chipped in. “I’ll ask Qenzi to help me develop a transforming one. We’ve done it for werewolves and Val. All we need is to calibrate one to the specific magic frequency of the thaumatic vibrations that rearrange when you shift shape.”

“Yeah, those pesky vibrations,” Tetra echoed. “We totally know what you’re talking about, Lee.”

Everyone laughed.

“Hey, look.” Tess pointed. “There’s the queen.”

A bright spot on the horizon became Julie’s glowing figure. She landed on the grass nearby, her pixie-cut hair windblown and her eyes wide.

“Aw, man!” Julie planted her hands on her hips. “Did I miss the good part?”

“Afraid you did.” Val stroked Shadow’s head. “The Fury’s gone. Disappeared into thin air. Liam’s trying to work out how. We killed or arrested all her warped paras. A handful escaped into the countryside, but your army’s hunting them down. They’ll capture them before long. The OPMA took a few casualties, but the Boilbloods and the farmers in the compound are all okay, barring a few injuries.”

“Ugh.” Julie’s wings drooped. “I can’t believe I missed it for a boring-ass meeting.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “As I understand it, you were negotiating peace between the minotaurs and the satyrs of the Northern Spine.”

“You know how difficult those minotaurs can be. It was important. Saved a lot of lives and so on. Going toe-to-toe with a Fury would have been a lot more fun, though,” Julie complained.

“I’ll drink to that.” Val grunted. “Or I would, if I had a drink. Which I will have later.”

“I’m with you on that.” Tetra stretched. “Shit got real back there.”

“Merritt fought the Fury,” Tess added.

Julie turned to the Leshbolg. “You did?”

“He didn’t have much choice. The Fury snatched him right off the wall.” Tess shuddered. “She carried him out to the battlefield and fought him there like it was personal.”

“It was personal.” Merritt rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. “I can’t believe we didn’t anticipate this. She wants revenge on the Boilbloods for helping us fight Alecto, and on me since I struck the killing blow.”

“Ah. Must be Tisiphone, then. Your report said her name means ‘avenger.’”

“It wasn’t her. It was Megaera. ‘Envious.’”

“Shit.” Julie blinked. “You sure? We thought she was dead.”

“I’m sure. We thought Alecto was dead, too, remember? Megaera must have been hiding in the Deep all this time. I’m willing to bet she came through the Rift during the Lichenvale Massacre and has been around ever since.”

“It’s possible. Dark magic tracking has come a long way, but we don’t have tracking amulets all over the worlds yet. She could shelter in Mistwood North or the farthest recesses of the Spine without us knowing.”

“What about the dark magic surges in New York?” Tess asked.

“That must be where all these warped paras came from.” Julie gestured at the ranks of prisoners waiting for her attention. “Mordred’s cult had their own portal network during the war. We’ve tried to destroy it, but it’s an ongoing process. Megaera could use it to get to the city, grab some paras, and get out before we reached her. She warps them and makes them into an army.”

“Not anymore.” Val folded her arms. “We got them.”

“It’ll slow her down. At least now we know who we’re dealing with and why.”

“I’m not sure we know why,” Merritt chipped in.

Julie stared at her. “You’re not? You told us.”

“Yes, but there might be something more going on.” Merritt shivered. “I can’t describe it, but the way she fought me was strangely familiar. She’s fought Leshbolgs before; I’m sure she has. When I tried to talk to her about Alecto, she said something weird, too.”

“What?”

“‘Curse Alecto.’” Merritt bit her lip. “Like Alecto wasn’t the only reason she attacked.”

“Strange. We’ll need to investigate that further, but for now, Megaera’s in the wind, albeit without an army. She’ll have no choice but to lie low for a while.” Julie glanced at the Boilbloods clustered around Ylva and the White Roc. “Right now, we need to prioritize keeping the Boilbloods safe. Megaera might come back for them. I don’t think this compound is safe for them or the nearby paras anymore.”

Val nodded. “I agree. It is designed to keep the Boilbloods in, not to keep enemies out. It’s a miracle that your forces held the wall as long as they did.”

“They’d have wiped the floor with Megaera’s forces if half hadn’t been on deployment in the Spine with me. I’m grateful that your team saved my ass, Val. All my heavy hitters were away when this went down.”

“Suspicious timing?” Merritt wondered.

Julie sighed. “Absolutely. Lucky for us, Megaera underestimated the Stonehold team, but she won’t make that mistake again. The Boilbloods can’t stay here.”

“You’ll need to find a secure new location for them,” Val agreed.

Julie studied her. “I will.”

Val leaned back. “No, no, no. Don’t look at me.”

“Why not?”

“Little Avalon is full to the brim,” Val protested. “We can’t fit in a whole colony of ex-assassins.”

“It’d be the perfect solution.” Julie spread her hands. “Your team can keep them safe and keep your other residents safe from them, too.”

“That’s true. They won’t threaten our residents since they respect Ylva,” Merritt interjected. “They’ll never go against her authority, and she’s on our side.”

“We’ve had no violent incidents in the compound. They’ve been model prisoners. Little Avalon would be the perfect place for them to continue learning about society.” Julie’s eyes gleamed.

“Merritt, you are not helping,” Val grumbled. “Did either of you hear what I said? There’s no room in Little Avalon. Where do you want me to put them, in the attic?”

“There’s currently no room in Little Avalon.” Julie smirked. “Unless the Eternity Throne pledges a significant chunk of our rehabilitation budget to expand the pocket dimension you built there.”

Val’s eyes widened.

“We’ve already expended a fair amount on these Boilbloods. I’d far rather contribute to Little Avalon than fortify this wall and dedicate a ton of military might to protecting them,” Julie pointed out.

“An expanded pocket dimension.” Val grinned. “Okay, I can get behind that idea. We’ll still need support, though. The Stonehold team can’t handle them if there’s trouble, or if Megaera finds and attacks them in my duchy.”

“It’s high time Little Avalon gained an OPMA garrison. Luna knows you lot attract trouble.”

“Our own OPMA garrison?” Tess beamed. “That’d be amazing!”

“Ugh, no,” Tetra complained. “It’d be like having Big Brother looking over our shoulder all the time. We’ve been very happy with Val enforcing our laws, but thanks.”

“The garrison would be under Val’s command,” Julie added.

Val rubbed her chin. “The residents would have to get used to having a garrison there, but luckily for me, I have a Guardian of Little Avalon who’s brilliant at handling that shit.”

Merritt giggled. “Thank you.”

“The Boilbloods would have to work, though. Can’t hang around in their pocket dimension, doing nothing. I doubt our economy can sustain all of them in ordinary jobs, either,” Val added.

Merritt almost bounced. “I have a solution for that.”

“Of course you do.” Val chortled.

“We currently use Shajara Elven contractors in Esmerelda Park—a small team from Avalon that uses magic to maintain our plants. Instead of contracting the work to paras outside Little Avalon, we could have the Boilbloods work in the park,” Merritt suggested. “There are enough that they could do it without magic. It’ll gainfully employ them and be useful to Little Avalon.”

Val thumped Merritt on the back, almost knocking her over. “That’s why I made you my Guardian.”

“I love it. Let’s do it.” Julie rubbed her hands together. “Merritt, go break the news to Ylva.”

“She’ll be over the moon.” Merritt pushed off the wall.

Tess elbowed her in the ribs and held up her watch.

Merritt’s gut knotted. “Um, Val should do it.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “Why? You love giving out good news.”

Merritt scrambled for a plausible explanation and came up with, “Ylva and I have a solid rapport. It’ll be good for your relationship with her if you break the news.”

“Relationship? I don’t care about my relationship with her,” Val grumbled.

“Diplomacy, Val,” Julie coached. “Diplomacy.”

Val groaned. “Fine.” She got off the wall and limped toward Ylva and the Boilbloods.

Julie turned to Tess, Tetra, and Merritt. “You had better move your asses. If you’re quick, we won’t have to move tomorrow’s bridal shower.”

“Keep Val occupied for us, would you?” Tess requested.

Julie winked. “I’ve got it. Go!”

Merritt sprang into the air as a falcon. With Tess and Tetra by her side, she swooped toward the portal near the Eternal Palace tram station, Akila racing below. They had a new mission, and to her mind, it was no less important than defending the Boilbloods.

Merritt held up a bouquet of iron roses. Frode, Val’s father, had hammered each petal by hand and welded the roses together using dwarven magic. They looked so real that Merritt almost expected them to be as light and soft as real flowers, but she had to grip the metal stems tightly to avoid dropping them.

“Careful.” Tess tipped the crystal vase on the stone table. “This is our last one.”

“No pressure.” Merritt cautiously slid the iron stems into the vase.

They both held their breath as Tess set the vase upright. The roses clinked against the mouth, but the vase held.

“Thank Merlin that’s over.” Tess wiped sweaty hands on her skirt. “What’s next?”

“We’re nearly done.” Merritt stepped back.

When she and Tess had arrived at the Hall of the Red Bear two hours ago, the place had looked the same as it had during the First Golden Age when giant warriors like Val constantly wandered its corridors. A life-sized iron statue of an armored warrior and a rampant bear stood in the vast round hall’s center. Chests surrounded the walls, now filled with replicas of the priceless treasures that had lain within. The gems and scrolls were in farther inside the dwarven city that rested inside the mountain’s heart for safekeeping.

It was somber, stately and filled with a rich history. Merritt would never have been able to use it for anything except Val’s bridal shower.

With hours of work, she and Tess had transformed the hall into a worthy venue. In her male form, Merritt had moved the chests into a nearby storeroom while Tess arranged elegant glass tables around the iron statue. Each table held a crystal vase with Frode’s iron roses within.

Rubies dotted the petals, giving them a scarlet glimmer. Red candles covered in Aether Elven runes levitated above the space, filling it with their flickering light. Tapestries depicting Val’s battle exploits decorated the walls, showing her crouching over a bomb with her shield in a New York park, charging Niamh in a cave, and decapitating Kronos with a sweep of Gaia’s Sickle.

Iron rose wreaths hung between the tapestries, and Merritt had placed framed photographs around the statues’ feet: professional shots from Val’s MMA fights, portraits of her and Niall from their engagement photo shoot in Esmerelda Park, and drunken selfies from Parabook for good measure.

Trickiest had been contacting Val’s jewelry clients from the past couple of years. Merritt sweet-talked her way past countless personal assistants to contact the rich and famous people for whom Val had made pieces.

The dwarves had helped them set up stone pedestals around the hall with her jewelry displayed on velvet cushions: bracelets, necklaces, earrings, rings, and more, aglitter with gemstones and glowing with magic. The signature Stonehold pieces were on loan to celebrate Val’s party.

“It’s not classic bridal shower décor, is it?” Tess mused.

Merritt grinned. “No, but it’s very Val.”

Tess laughed. “She’ll love it. Ooh, we only have a few minutes before they get here. Let’s get the cupcakes out!”

“You’re so desperate to see the cupcakes, it’s comical.”

“You spent the whole night on them, Merritt. How can I not be?”

Tess followed Merritt to the storeroom, and a dot of blue light expanded into a portal that offered a hazy glimpse into the bakery at Chaplin’s Kitchen. She checked her phone for the time. “You’re perfectly punctual, as usual, Owen.”

The brownie stepped through the portal, carrying a tray of cupcakes. “They chilled perfectly in the fridge, Merritt. They’re masterpieces.”

Tess gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “Merlin’s wonderful curly nose hair! They’re amazing!”

“Marcurio deserves all the credit.” Merritt took the tray. “He taught me how to make them.”

They silently admired the cupcakes as Owen produced another tray for Tess to carry and came through the portal with a third. Each contained a different flavor of cupcake.

“These are coffee and buttermilk.” Merritt held up her tray. Each cupcake featured red buttercream roses surrounding a sculpted fondant anvil with a little hammer that levitated up and down thanks to the runes inscribed inside.

“Those are red velvet.” She nodded at Owen’s tray. She’d cut each cupcake into the shape of a burly dog like Shadow, colored the cream cheese frosting red, and piped streaks that looked like fur. He had silver sprinkles for eyes.

Tess gasped. “Awww, these are so cute. They’re little Nialls!”

Merritt was very proud of them. “Those are chocolate and caramel, of course. I had to make him Val’s favorite.” They were all deer with pretzel antlers and caramel fur.

“They look delicious as well as adorable.” Tess carried her tray into the hall. “Val will adore them.”

They arranged a selection of cupcakes at each table and barely had time to return the trays to the storeroom before the first guest arrived; Val’s stepmom Bodil. The dwarf wore a chain mail dress and had uncut gemstones in her steel-gray hair and beard that clinked against her dress as she entered the hall.

“Oh, wow!” she cried. “Merritt, you’ve outdone yourself with the décor. And these cupcakes!”

“Hey, Bodil.” Merritt hugged her. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Bodil beamed. “The caterers are setting up next door. They’ll come in with lunch when everyone is here and settled.”

“I’m still not sure about our food choices,” Tess admitted.

Bodil chuckled. “Many paras won’t be, Tess. Not everyone serves beer and goat stew at a bridal shower, but Val will love it.”

“She really will.” Merritt laughed. “Have a seat, Bodil.”

The dwarf drifted to the table nearest the one Merritt had designated for Val. Other guests arrived in a steady stream: Qenzi Miller, Anne Dragavei-Nox, Yuka Melnyk, Tetra’s sister Sinatria, Bodil’s sister and Val’s aunt Countess Milda Greatlode, and Alma Hammerblade. A handful of human friends joined via a video chat that Liam had customized to hide the paranormal elements: Jess, Isabella, and actress Nadia Stewart.

Julie was the last to arrive amid a small whirlwind that made the iron roses clink in their vases.

“Sorry!” The queen snapped her fingers, and the wind stopped. “Stupid Cheese Dwarf ambassador wouldn’t stop talking at his presentation, but here I am.”

“It’s okay, baby girl.” Rosa, the queen mother, followed Julie inside. “We’re not late.”

“You’re right on time.” Merritt hugged them. “Val will be here in a few minutes. Have a seat and grab a drink!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Julie smoothed her dress, a shimmering creation of blue silk. “Mom, do I look okay?”

Rosa laid a hand on her cheek. “Oh, honey, you’re radiant.”

They chose a table, and their happy conversation filled the hall as Merritt hurried around, making sure everyone was happy and had a glass of champagne.

Bodil snagged her arm as she rushed past. “It’s perfect, Merritt. Thank you. It’s so classy.”

“It’s classy now,” Merritt hedged. “Things will devolve after lunch and beer. We’re having a ring-smithing competition with Val as the judge as part of the games. That will get wild.”

Bodil snickered. “Excellent.”

“Merritt!” Tess called. “Tetra texted. They’re at the entrance.”

Merritt hastened to the doors. They were cast iron and so heavy that she would struggle to open them in her male form, but they now stood wide to welcome Val. Another hall stretched beyond. Giant statues of armored dwarves flanked it, their names carved in jagged runes on their pedestals.

“Ready, everyone!” Merritt called. A giggle ran through the group.

Shadow bounded into the hall, jaws wide, hackles high, eyes ablaze. He skidded to a halt on splayed paws, confused when he saw Merritt and Tess. Merritt! Where attack?

Merritt giggled. There’s no attack here, Shad.

Shadow’s hackles lowered and he wagged his tail. Friends! Many friends! Shadow happy. Shadow play!

He trotted away as Val burst into the hall, fully armored and warhammer aloft. “Where are they? Where are the goblins? I will crush them!”

Merritt threw her arms up. “Surprise!”

Everyone yelled with her, and the hall reverberated with the joyous cry. Tetra appeared behind Val in a cloud of the strawberry-scented pink dust she only gave off when she was at her happiest.

Val lowered the hammer, the flames extinguishing. “Wait, what?”

“This is your bridal shower.” Tetra slapped her on the back, producing a hollow clang from the armor. “Ow! Shit!”

“My what?” Val blinked.

“Your bridal shower.” Merritt giggled.

Val sheathed the hammer and touched her ruby bracelet. The armor folded away, revealing that Tetra had understood the assignment and gotten Val into party clothes before Liam made the fake announcement about an attack on Mount Adalbern.

The duchess wore a figure-hugging dress of a rich scarlet. The glittering fabric faded to yellow at the hem, like she wore a backward-burning flame. Her makeup echoed the sparkle of the dress, as did the amulet at her throat, a rampant iron bear with ruby eyes. She wore her platinum-blonde wig that day, and the curls bounced luxuriously down her back. “Merlin’s wings! I...I didn’t ask you guys to do this.”

Merritt approached her and took her arm. “That’s the point, Val. We’re your friends. We did this for you.”

Val allowed Merritt to lead her into the Hall of the Red Bear, clapping a hand to her mouth as everyone waved and greeted her. “You’re all here?”

“Us too!” Jess yelled from the laptop on a nearby table. “We couldn’t make it in person, but we’re here.”

“Jess, Bella, Nadia.” Val laughed. “This is so cool! Look at these roses!”

“Frode made them all himself,” Tess told her.

Happy tears shimmered in Val’s eyes. “Of course he did. Merlin’s beard, look at these cupcakes! Merritt, the deer are so, so cute. I love them. You’re really good at this!”

“Thanks, Val.” Merritt beamed. She discreetly withdrew as Val moved around the room, greeting every guest with a happy squeal and a hug. Merritt joined Tess at a nearby table.

Tess grabbed her hand. “Look at her, Merri. She’s gushing.”

“Val never gushes.”

“She does when she’s happy beyond words.”

Merritt couldn’t stop smiling. “She deserves every moment of this.”

“We did good,” Tess observed.

“We did.”

They’d reserved Val a place at their table, and after she’d chatted with all her guests, the duchess sat with them. Merritt knew better than to give her champagne and thrust a glass of Anvil Brewery’s Iron IPA into her hand.

“You know me way too well, Merritt.” Val downed half the glass to cheers from the guests. “How in Avalon did you pull this off twenty-four hours after an epic battle with a Fury?”

“Sometimes it’s handy not to need sleep.” Merritt winked. “Also, Tess decorated it all.”

“Tess, you are incredible! This place looks amazing. Look at all my old pieces! Wow! I can’t believe you guys persuaded their owners to lend them to you. Also, did you have to use that picture from the Iron Fist?”

Val chattered as the dwarven caterers served an excellent savory pie that Merritt devoured. The effects from being in male form lingered, making her both hungry and tired. Her happy buzz held the exhaustion at bay as Val laughed and joked with her friends.

The duchess was alight with happiness, her eyes sparkling brighter than the ruby teardrop earrings that swung and caught the light every time she turned her head.

Merritt clapped her hands. “Time for dessert!”

“Thank Merlin for that. I can’t stare at those cupcakes for one more second without eating them,” Tetra burst out.

“Wait.” Val grabbed a fresh glass of beer.

Tetra groaned. “Noooooo!”

Tess elbowed her.

“First, it’s time for a speech.” Val stood, holding up the glass. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Glasses rose around the room.

“I grew up believing I’d never have a family,” Val began, her voice rough with emotion. “I was an outcast, a nobody. No one in my community would look at me twice. I never dared to dream about getting married. I accepted that it would never happen.”

She held out a hand, admiring the circle of polished wood on her ring finger. “Then Niall came along and blew my expectations out of the water. He was everything I didn’t know to dream about. When he asked me to marry him, I was... Well, I was terrified.”

Merritt propped her chin on her hands as she listened.

“I didn’t know what to do with myself. It seemed too good to be true, so I tried to control every aspect of the wedding to make it feel more real. That made me act crazy,” Val confessed. “Then someone showed me that reality could be more amazing than the hypothetical I was trying too hard to control. That person made me realize that everything will be more than okay. It’ll be glorious.”

She raised her glass. “Let’s toast Merritt Vale. You bring hope and light to Little Avalon and to me in more ways than you know. Thanks for everything, Merritt.”

“Yeah!” Tetra held her glass aloft. “To Merritt!”

Everyone joined the toast as Merritt blushed.

“To Merritt!”

Agnes brooded at the end of the table in Marcurio’s vibrant kitchen. “The polka dots are far too much.”

“You’ve said that.” Merritt didn’t look up from the piping bag as she leaned over the cake. “Several times.”

“It’s true. Look at this place. It’s absurd,” Agnes grumbled.

Marcurio came over to the table carrying an elegant gilded tray containing a teapot, two teacups, and a steaming mug of the cheap instant cappuccino Agnes adored. “I like the polka dots. They match my bow tie.”

“Don’t get me started on your bow tie.” Agnes accepted the cappuccino and wrapped her sore hands around it.

“Why not, my love?” Marcurio kissed the top of her head. “I like it when you complain.”

Agnes rolled her eyes.

Merritt stepped back, stretching her stiff back and shaking a cramp out of her hand. “What do you guys think?”

She’d almost covered the large cake with a variety of buttercream flowers: red roses, yellow tulips, bright pink peonies, and most challenging of all, a big clump of orange hydrangeas in the center.

“Colorful.” Agnes sipped. “I hate it.”

“Oh, Aggie. Don’t be a wet blanket.” Marcurio clopped over to Merritt. “Merritt, my darling, look at those hydrangeas! They are magnificent! Absolutely magnificent.”

“I love working with buttercream.” Merritt flexed her tired fingers. “Enchanted fondant is great, but it’s too classic.”

“Not enough kneading, if you ask me,” Agnes growled.

“Go on, Aggie. Look Merritt in the face and tell her her flowers are pretty,” Marcurio wheedled.

Agnes huffed. “Okay, fine. You’re coming on well, Merritt.”

“Wow.” Merritt blinked. “New love suits you, Agnes. Usually it takes a lot more than that to get a compliment out of you.”

Agnes softened. “Nice to have somebody who puts up with me.”

“My love, my treasure, my universe, I do more than put up with you.” Marcurio put his arms around her. “I adore you.”

Agnes pretended to be annoyed, but Merritt saw the glow in her eyes.

“Have a cup of tea, Merritt. You must be exhausted after those hydrangeas.” Marcurio stirred sugar cubes into his tea.

Merritt set the piping bag aside. Her phone buzzed as she reached for her teacup; she checked it and shot Marcurio an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. It’s Liam. I better take this.”

Marcurio was too busy making eyes at Agnes to notice when Merritt stepped into the hall and answered the call. “Hey, Lee. Everything okay?”

“More than okay.” Liam’s voice trembled. “Merritt, I found her.”

“Who?”

Liam exhaled loudly.

“The third Fury. I found Tisiphone.”

THE STORY CONTINUES

The Story continues is book five, The Waif Things Work, coming soon to Amazon.

Claim Your Copy Here

One wrong move could end two worlds.

Merritt Vale is the last of her kind—and the keeper of the only artifact capable of sealing the Rift between dimensions. If it falls into the wrong hands, a warped paranormal army will flood into Avalon and Earth, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Tisiphone, the deadliest of the Furies, has vanished into the shadows of Tintagel. Tracking her means confronting ancient magic, fractured memories, and a Lunar Fae whose broken mind may hold the truth Merritt needs.

Every step brings Merritt closer to a past she doesn’t remember and a future she may not survive.

Allies are scarce. Enemies are everywhere. Failure would mean more than her death—it would mean the end of everything.

Avalon is holding its breath. The Rift is waiting.

Will Merritt hold the line—or watch the worlds fall?

Unlock The Waif Things Work now and face the coming storm.

RENÉE’S NOTES

MAY 25, 2025

Thank you for reading the fourth book in this series and here to the back! My character did some things in this book that I didn’t expect. I love it when they do that! I hope you did too.

Name your poison

Kelly and I went over to Scotland because we really missed it, though the girls were just here, and we went to the most poisonous garden in the world at Alnwick Castle. Bonus fact: that castle was used for the exterior of Hogwarts in movies one and two, so when I bought my nephew the $160 Lego set of Hogwarts Castle, it was Alnwick (pronounced A’nick). They have tons of Harry Potter memorabilia in the gift shop. I resisted.

I was horrified by what I learned during the garden tour. I have been blithely ripping periwinkle out of my garden for years, only to learn that if I had eaten a sandwich afterward without washing my hands, I might have kicked up my tootsies and run off to join the chorus, to quote Monty Python. Another common plant that is poisonous is rhododendron, which covers almost every square foot of the UK and most of the South and Northwest in the US.

One of my favorites which turns out to be poisonous is laburnum, or the golden chain tree. It was deliberately planted in schoolyards in the UK in the seventies since it is beautiful and easy maintenance. They ripped them all out after a whole class had to be taken to the hospital because one tot collected all the pods and gave them top her friends, who promptly munched on them.

After the tour, I regularly got laughs from the car crowd when I pointed at one plant or another on our travels and said, “Poison!” Plants that can kill you are literally everywhere! Education is key. At the very least, please wash your hands after you garden before lifting a morsel toward your mouth!

On a happy note, we’re back safely, although Kelly’s journey home was delayed by air traffic control problems in Newark that affected JFK. That’s still better than being in Newark (sorry, not sorry, New Jersey).

A good time was had by all, as usual.

As always…

Big thanks to everyone at LMBPN. I sincerely appreciate my editor, the JIT team, and you, the readers! We authors couldn’t do it without you. Kelly and the ops team work their butts off to get our books into your hands.

Until we speak again, I hope your skies are sunny and your days are filled with happiness and good books.

Renée

PS…Izzie Campbell has a new series coming out in May, The Excommunicated Witch Savant. Please check it out if you get a minute.

BOOKS FROM RENÉE

Para-Military Recruiter

(with Michael Anderle)

Drafted (Book 1)

Recruiter (Book 2)

Accepted (Book 3)

Lead (Book 4)

Recruited (Book 5)

Soldier (Book 6)

Tactical (Book 7)

Officer (Book 8)

Leader (Book 9)

Victor (Book 10)

Appointed (Book 11)

Councilor (Book 12)

Royal (Book 13)

Princess (Book 14)

Peacemaker (Book 15)

Queen (Book 16)

Valerie Stonehold

(with Michael Anderle)

Security For Hire (Book 1)

Shieldmaiden of the Modern Realm (Book 2)

Arbiter of Shadows (Book 3)

Jewel of the Night’s Mantle (Book 4)

Echoes of the Anvil (Book 5)

The Iron Bear (Book 6)

Guardian of Little Avalon (Book 7)

Protector of the Sleepless City (Book 8)

A Hunt No More (Book 9)

Merlin’s Waif

(with Michael Anderle)

A Little Waif Justice (Book 1)

Bet on the Waif (Book 2)

Waif too Much (Book 3)

No Waif Out (Book 4)

The Waif Things Work (Book 5)

Piercing the Veil

Dangerous Opportunities (Book 1)

Dangerous Responsibilities (Book 2)

Decisions To Make (Book 3)

Reincarnation of the Morrigan

Birth of a Goddess (Book One)

The Way of Wisdom (Book Two)

Angelic Death (Book Three)

A Cold War (Book Four)

A Battle Tune (Book Five)

Broken Ice (Book Six)

A Torn Veil (Book Seven)

Sins of the Past (Book Eight)

The Wild Hunt Comes (Book Nine)

The WereWitch Series

Bad Attitude (Book One)

A Bit Aggressive (Book Two)

Too Much Magic (Book Three)

Were War (Book Four)

Were Rages (Book Five)

God Ender (Book Six)

God Trials (Book Seven)

The Troll Solution (Book Eight)

Winner Takes All (Book Nine)

Callie Hart Series

Thin Ice (Book One)

Cold Blood (Book Two)

Feelings Run Deep (Book Three)

BOOKS BY MICHAEL ANDERLE

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