The Ballymeadow Adventurers’ Guild was small but cozy. Raith sipped his beer, not in a hurried celebratory way, determined to find ecstatic inebriation, but calmly and savoring every sip. He felt relaxed, content even, as he enjoyed the simple comfort of being there in the company of his friends.

  The handoff with Pridian had been anticlimactic. Raith wasn’t sure why he had expected some sort of heartfelt reunion with the grumpy wyvern, but Pridian had taken custody of the artifact with all the emotion of a bank clerk. He secured it in a complicated compartment that folded out from his jet-black armor. Raith had barely managed to extract a promise that Pridian would send word the moment the object was safely stored in their vault before the whyver set off.

  At least we won’t have to worry about him dallying.

  Raith looked around the guildhall. Clusters of adventurers celebrating completed quests, planning their next journeys, or simply drinking to fortune and survival. One poor soul sat off to the side, staring blankly into his mug with a look of numb despair.

  “We should just stay here,” Nyhm said suddenly, cutting into Raith’s thoughts.

  Raith blinked. “What do you mean, stay here?”

  Nyhm gestured around the room. “Nobody knows who we are. Nobody knows where we are. No baggage, no expectations. We could just pick a new name for the team, grab a few [Quests], and start over. No nobility, no assassins, no Templars. Just…freedom.”

  Raith smiled faintly and considered his brother's words thinking wistfully about what it might be like to simply start fresh. No obligations. No house repairs or political entanglements back home. He idly rubbed his ring, wishing he could be free of the Forgotten Ones without losing his memories. How much he'd like Venton and all the rest of them to just leave him alone so he can pursue the life of an adventurer.

  “I’m surprised how attractive that notion sounds,” he admitted,

  “I’d be fine with it,” Tolliver said, raising his mug.

  Raith’s eyebrows shot up. “You?”

  Tolliver tilted his head back, peering down his nose. “Indeed. There’s little about that place I’d miss…” He paused, considering. “Well, perhaps not little, but still. I see the appeal of a new beginning.”

  “Well, I don’t want to start over,” Thea interjected, crossing her arms. “I’ve got a date next week.”

  Raith leaned forward eagerly. “A date? With who?”

  It had been a long time since Thea had shown interest in romance, so focused as she’d been on her training and class development.

  She grinned. “There’s a showing of Crystalline Hearts at the theater downtown. Imerin asked if I wanted to go.”

  Raith froze, mug halfway to his lips. “Hold on, what now?”

  Thea misunderstood his question and rolled her eyes.

  “Crystalline Hearts, Raith. It’s a play. A romantic one, no less. You’d hate it. Imerin said he hasn’t been to a mortal play in centuries and is really looking forward to it.”

  Raith set his mug down. “No, not the play. Imerin. You can’t date Imerin.”

  Tolliver cleared his throat awkwardly, and Thea’s face hardened into that familiar look of stubborn defiance Raith had learned to dread over the years.

  “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly jealous of who I’m dating,” she said.

  “What? Of course not! I don’t care who you date.”

  “Well, it sounds like you care.”

  “No, I just…just not Imerin! You can date anyone but Imerin. Or Devon. Don’t date Devon either.”

  “And what exactly is wrong with Imerin?”

  [Life in Staccato]

  Raith paused, struggling to sort through what he was actually feeling…a task he was notoriously bad at. Seeing Thea’s irritation rising, he knew he had to get his words straight before this turned into a full argument. He took a breath and set the world back in motion, careful not to blink his eyes since Thea was staring right at him.

  “I’m afraid he might use you to get back at me. Like when Devon hurt Camellia.”

  The anger faded from Thea’s face almost immediately, the corners of her lips turning down. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured. She turned to Zinny. “You brought him to the party. Does that sound like something he’d do?”

  Zinny cocked her head thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. He’s usually much more straightforward. But…” she shrugged lightly, “he’s also a sidhe. So it’s hard to know for sure.”

  Thea digested that, then nodded slowly.

  “Well, I’ll give him a chance,” she said at last. She patted Raith’s hand. “It's just a date, not a wedding. But I appreciate you looking out for me.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Raith raised his glass in salute. “Fair enough.”

  She returned the gesture, and Nyhm looked between them with a frown.

  “So, does this mean we’re not staying?”

  ***

  On their way to met Pridian, Raith hadn’t been particularly vigilant on the gossamer path. After all, his [Skill] protected the party from any threats they might encounter. But after the recent confrontation with a Templar who had nearly stolen all of their most valuable possessions, Raith found himself watching their surroundings more carefully as they made their way back to Beckhaven.

  The path now led them through a vast, barren landscape of cracked red earth and blowing sand. The ground was parched and broken, dotted only by the occasional jagged rock stabbing up into the horizon. Strange stone formations haunted the emptiness as far as the eye could see. There were no signs of life anywhere.

  Even so, Raith kept his focus. And it was only because of this vigilance that he noticed the cloud of dust moving rapidly toward them in the distance. It stood out starkly against the motionless world around them, everything else frozen in place under his divine skill. Narrowing his eyes, Raith tried to make out the figure at the center of that racing cloud. Before long, he could see it clearly: a lone man on horseback, moving with impossible speed.

  “Who is that?” Raith asked, pointing.

  Everyone stopped and followed his gaze. Though still far off, the rider’s pace brought him into view quickly. The horse was pure white, lean, powerful, and graceful in its stride, unlike any mount Raith had ever seen in the mortal realm. The man riding it wore forest-green chain mail, his pauldrons etched with the delicate motif of leaves. He wore no helm, and his long golden hair streamed behind him, tied back in a ponytail that snapped in the wind as he leaned forward in his approach.

  “Uh oh,” Zinny murmured.

  Raith’s head snapped toward her. “What do you mean, uh oh?”

  “That’s the Summer Knight,” she said grimly.

  Thea let out a squeak and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Who is the Summer Knight and how is he unaffected by my [Skill]?” Raith demanded.

  Zinny turned to him, her expression more serious than he had ever seen it.

  “He is the general of the Seelie King’s court. His enforcer, and leader of all the fae armies. He’s more powerful than anything you might encountered in the mortal world, short of an ancient true dragon. Especially here, in our own realm.”

  Raith had a hundred questions about this sidhe warrior who was somehow immune to his divine ability, but there was no time to ask. The rider had reached them. He pulled his horse up beside the group, the great steed halting with a stamp of its hooves.

  The man looked down at them imperiously from the saddle. Both horse and rider radiated heat. At first Raith thought it was from their mad dash across the desert, but he quickly realized neither appeared winded in the slightest. The warmth wasn’t from exertion, it was something deeper. A power that raised the air’s temperature around them until it shimmered uncomfortably.

  “You are not so easy to find, Raith Quirric,” the knight said.

  Raith glanced at Zinny, who bowed low in deference. He followed her lead, bowing as well. “I’ve had too many people trying to kill me lately,” he said cautiously. “I've taken to making it hard for them to find me.”

  The knight gave a short, approving nod.

  “I see the wisdom in that. You have been summoned before the King.”

  Raith looked again to Zinny for guidance, but even she appeared uncertain, offering no hint as to why in the world the King of the Seelie Court would want him.

  The knight drew his sword, and Raith immediately tensed. He knew full well that if this being before him wanted their lives, there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop him.

  With a single, fluid slash, the Summer Knight cut through the very fabric of the Dreaming, and a shimmering portal appeared before them, opening into a grand castle courtyard.

  “After you,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “And cease your Weaver’s trick before you proceed. I will not have it disrupting the court.”

  Raith hesitated. Something deep within him rebelled at the idea of stepping through that portal. He recognized the feeling: fear. Fear of this man, fear of what lay beyond, and fear of once again being drawn into powers greater than himself. For so long, he’d been reacting. Running, hiding, surviving, but rarely choosing for himself.

  He looked at the Summer Knight again, still holding the portal open expectantly. Then he glanced at Thea, who seemed anything but afraid. In fact, she looked excited, her eyes bright with anticipation.

  Raith let out a breath. If he was ever going to make a stand against the forces trying to control him, this was probably not the time.

  With a final nod to the Summer Knight, Raith straightened his shoulders, dropped his [Skill], stepped forward and passed through the glowing portal into the castle courtyard beyond. A collection of the most incredible creatures Raith could imagine formed a long line waiting for their turn to have an audience with the King. Hundreds of eyes fell upon him as he stepped through, and he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of those strange gazes and whispers.

  His companions followed next, but when the Summer Knight finally passed in the murmurs abruptly ceased and the sea of heads lowered in respect. The crowd parted as the mounted sidhe lead them forward between enormous marble pillars wrapped in climbing ivy. Identical pillars traced the perimeter of an outdoor throneroom, meeting at the far side where an impossibly large tree loomed. Sprites and wisps darted about its branches, sparkling among the leaves with motion and light that looked like living decorations.

  Two thrones were seemingly grown into the trunk of the tree, and upon those thrones sat two beings whose perfection made Raith’s heart leap into his throat. His mind struggled to define their images, to find some detail it could hold onto. They kept shifting and blurring at the edges, as though the majesty of their appearance was too much for his mortal mind to comprehend.

  Raith turned to his companions, and knew his face surely bore the same awestruck expression as theirs. Zinny had dismounted and was flittering forward. She glanced back at them and jerked her head for them to follow with a nearly panicked expression.

  Fear broke his trance, and they hurried to catch up. The pixie stopped below the throne and fell into a deep bow without speaking, so the rest of the team again followed her lead. The silence dragged out, and Raith dared to peek up. The pair on the thrones seemed to shimmer and coalesce, resolving into figures his eyes could finally bear to look upon. The King and Queen appeared ageless and ethereal. Still impossibly beautiful, but gazing upon them no longer made his head swim.

  A voice like a warm summer breeze wafted over him, affecting him in a way only Amaris’s ever had.

  “Rise, my champions. We have suppressed our glamour that you might look upon us.”

  Raith wasn’t sure what it was about the words that broke the spell, but he found himself rising with a frown and surge of profound irritation. Before he could stop himself, the words just sort of spilled out of his mouth.

  “I don’t recall agreeing to be anyone’s champion, your grace.”

  A gasp rang out from around the throneroom, including from his companions. Raith gulped and silently cursed the rules that made his [Divine Skill] work differently in this realm. That would have been a good time to use [Staccato] before opening his stupid mouth.