“No.” The raspy voice sounded faintly amused as he shook his head. “As usual, our furry sage has deemed it wiser to withhold certain information until we are all present to hear it. Apparently, he wishes to tell the story only once.”

  “As usual?” Puck repeated. “Not that I’m arguing with you, but it sounds like you two already know each other.”

  “What an observant statement, Goodfellow,” Grimalkin said from the desk, punctuating it with a yawn. “I am almost surprised.”

  “I have met Grimalkin before,” Gilleas said, confirming what everyone already suspected. “Before the Lady sealed us away, I remember having long conversations with him in the wyldwood, and in Evenfall itself. I do not recognize any of you,” he went on, gazing at the rest of us, until his gaze landed on Nyx. “With one exception, of course. The king’s protectors. The Order of the Crescent Blades. I know you. I have known your organization for a long time.”

  “That doesn’t explain why there are two of us,” Nyx said, with a quick glance at her twin. “Or how you can be here when...”

  The Evenfaery known as Gilleas tilted his skull head.

  “When you killed me,” he finished softly. “Back at InSite.”

  Nyx didn’t flinch, but she did sink a little further into her hood. Puck groaned and ran both hands through his hair. “Okay, I feel like my head is gonna explode,” he said, looking at the rest of us. “If anyone wants to throw out an explanation that actually makes sense, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I have my theories,” Gilleas rasped. “But that is all they are—theories.”

  “There is one explanation—” Grimalkin began.

  “No,” Gilleas said, whirling on him. “No, I will not accept that.”

  “Accept it or not, it is the only viable answer.”

  Gilleas seemed agitated now, glancing back at us. “I would like to hear your story first,” he said. “From the beginning. Before we can solve the equation, we first must know the problem.” He glanced around his extraordinarily cluttered space and made a hopeless gesture with his hands. “It seems my chairs were eaten again. Please, sit or stand wherever you are comfortable.”

  The only chair in the room was the stool in front of Gilleas’s desk, and the floor was pretty much covered in books and clutter, so sitting was not an option. Near the door, Other Nyx made a furtive gesture with two fingers, and the other assassins save Varyn turned and melted from the room, giving us a little more space. Gilleas himself turned and crossed the room to his desk, brushed away the scrolls he’d been writing on, and sat atop the surface. Lacing long fingers under his sharp, bony chin, he nodded at me. “Begin,” he rasped, “whenever you are ready.”

  * * *

  We left nothing out.

  Starting from the moment Puck and Nyx showed up in the Iron Kingdom with news that a deadly new threat had been seen in the Nevernever. Sometimes Keirran would take over the narrative, telling the story of how one Elder Nightmare had attacked Touchstone, and the chaos that came after. Gilleas listened intently, stopping us to ask questions about things he did not understand. Which, unfortunately, since he had been trapped in Evenfall for so long, was a lot. When we got to the part with InSite, and how we’d met another version of him trying to open the seal to Evenfall, his demeanor turned even more serious.

  “And are you sure of what you encountered?” he asked, holding up one thin talon, as he had done many times throughout the story. “I am sorry, and I do not wish to doubt, but are you certain this faery was me?”

  “Yes,” Nyx stated, very quietly. She had been silent up until now, withdrawn into her hood and lurking in a patch of shadow. “It was you, Gilleas. You and the faery we met at InSite were the same.” Her gaze flickered to Other Nyx, also listening silently in the corner. “Just like we are the same.”

  This seemed to trouble him greatly. One claw rose to his face, his claws scraping against bone. “It cannot be,” he whispered, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “It cannot be. But then, why have none of my equations worked? Why do they fail when I know they are perfect? At least one of them should have yielded results, but all my efforts are for naught. It makes no sense. Unless...”

  Abruptly, his hollow gaze went to Other Nyx. “Do you remember how you returned to Evenfall before the way was sealed?” he asked.

  The Evenfaery blinked, frowning. “I...no,” she answered, shaking her head. “It’s one of those things I can never remember. We were in the Nevernever, tracking down the Lady, trying to stop her ritual before it happened. We’d found and killed a few of the high sidhe, but we never found her.” Other Nyx’s frown deepened, a flash of pain going through her golden eyes before she continued. “The next thing I remember is being back in Evenfall, in the palace of the Nightmare Court. But it was different. The palace was crawling with Nightmares, and we had to flee. Eventually, we made our way here, looking for answers. You know the rest.”

  “It is the same for me,” Gilleas whispered. “I was also in the Nevernever that day, looking for the Lady. Or for anyone who would listen. And then...there is a gap where I remember nothing. I don’t know how I returned to Evenfall, but I also found myself back in the palace, and it was full of Nightmares. And I could sense something deep within the palace, something angry and powerful. Unfortunately, with the number of Nightmares, I too had to withdraw. Only I came straight here, to the Great Library, intending to find answers. I have found more questions and frustrations than anything else.” He paused, and then, almost as if he feared the answer, turned to our Nyx again and asked, “Shadow of our shadow, do you remember what happened to you when the way to Evenfall was sealed?”

  “I do now,” Nyx said softly. “We became trapped on the other side, in the Nevernever. I remember meeting the Lady, and being confused, because I didn’t remember Evenfall or how I got there, or even who I was speaking to. I just knew something terrible had happened. But we ended up serving the Lady as the First Queen, until... I guess I Faded away or fell asleep, because the world was different when I woke up.”

  Gilleas visibly trembled. “No,” he whispered, holding his head in both hands. “If this is true, everything I have worked for, everything I have tried to accomplish, has been for nothing.”

  “You know I am right.” Grimalkin’s voice echoed in the room, low and somehow terrible. “The theory makes sense. You have to face the truth, no matter how painful.”

  “Gilleas, what is he talking about?” Other Nyx asked, looking at the historian.

  The thin faery was silent for a long moment, and then he slowly raised his head, his voice shaking. “We never returned to Evenfall,” Gilleas whispered. “Because, on that day, we became trapped on the Nevernever side when the seal was created. You—” he continued, turning to Other Nyx “—and your Order went on to serve the First Queen of Faery. I...apparently went mad, created a place called InSite in the human world...and eventually died, at the hands of a fellow Evenfaery.”

  “You’re...not making sense, Gilleas,” Other Nyx said, her voice a little shaky. “We’re standing right here, having this conversation. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

  “It is this.” Grimalkin sat up, golden eyes solemn as he stared at everyone in the room. “Imagine that Evenfall has been sealed off by the Lady and her circle. Imagine that, cut off from the magic of the Nevernever and the mortal realm, Evenfall, and all the faeries therein, Fade away into nothing. Until only the Nightmare King, the most powerful fey of all, is left. And in his fury and rage and grief, he falls into an endless sleep, and he dreams. Of his world. Of his people. And because the Nightmare King is able to do so, the dream manifests, and becomes reality. Of a sort. Evenfall is gone. But the world of the Dream remains. And the king finds ways of delivering his own glamour to his people in the form of Nightmares. Because he is the Nightmare King, and even his dreams cannot be pleasant ones.”

  “That’s...” Varyn’s voice was a rasp, a growl, as the assassin shook his head violently. “Impossible,” he finished. “So, you’re saying...”

  “None of us are real,” Gilleas breathed, barely audible even in the stunned silence. His long fingers uncurled in front of him as he stared down at his shaking hands. “Evenfall is gone. We have all Faded away. This—everything we know—is only a dream. We are all but dreams in the endless nightmare of the king.”

  PART II

  Interlude

  Now, the story of the girl who went into Faeryland is more complicated than it first appears. Many would think that the tale began on her sixteenth birthday, the day her little brother was kidnapped by the fey and a changeling was left in his place. But truthfully, it began years before, on yet another birthday.

  The day her father vanished from the world without a trace.

  * * *

  “What do you want to do today, sweetie?” the girl’s father asked. “Mommy is out shopping, so we have a couple hours together, just the two of us. It’s your special day, so we can do whatever you want.”

  The little girl considered this. Normally, her daddy had to work and didn’t get to stay home, so this was exciting. “The park,” she decided. She liked playing on the swings and slides and running around without being told to stop. “But first, play me a song. The one that I like.”

  “A song?” Her daddy pretended to be surprised. “And what song is that?”

  She scowled at him. It was her special day; he was supposed to do what she wanted. “You know which one, Daddy.”

  “I do?” He walked to their old piano and pushed back the lid. The little girl trailed eagerly and climbed onto the bench as he sat down. She loved listening to him, but lately, he had been so busy with work, he hardly ever played for her anymore. “Is it this one?” He started plunking a tune called “Chopsticks.”

  “No!” She frowned. “Not that one.”

  “No?” He grinned and switched songs, but this one was gloomy and sad. “Is it this one?”

  “Daddy!”

  He laughed. Picking her up, he set her on his lap, then stretched his fingers and put them on the keys. “Okay.” He smiled mischievously. “I think what you’re talking about is this song right here...”

  And he finally played the right one.

  It was called “Butterfly,” and it was a song he’d written just for her. Bright and bouncy and cheerful, it always made her happy inside. Sometimes she would dance to the song, spinning and spinning as the music flowed around her. And sometimes, though not often, she would see strange things from the corners of her eyes: tiny flitting things with wings, or faces watching from the windows. They were always gone when she looked again, so she figured it was the magic from her daddy’s music.

  “Again!” she cried as the tune came to an end. Her daddy laughed and shook his head.

  “Again? I’ve already played it three times. Besides, I thought you wanted to go to the park today.”

  Oh, right. She did. She liked the park, and they didn’t get to go very often. Mommy didn’t like being outside. She always seemed slightly nervous whenever they were outdoors and away from people. In fact, that was why she wanted to go today; Daddy was far more likely to take her to the park if Mommy wasn’t there.

  “Can I get bread?” she asked, sliding off the piano bench. “I want to feed the ducks.” Her daddy sighed and picked her up in one arm.

  “I suppose,” he told her, and gently tapped her nose with his finger. “As long as you promise not to bring home frogs in your pocket. Mommy was not happy with all the mud she had to clean up last time.”

  The little girl promised, and a few minutes later, she and her daddy arrived at the park. It was a small, quiet little park not too far from their house, but surrounded by trees so that it felt like they were in the woods. There was a simple playground with a slide and a swing, a couple picnic tables, and a round green pond that held a sizable population of turtles and salamanders, and a little family of ducks.

  There wasn’t anyone else at the park that day, just the little girl and her daddy, but she didn’t mind. She liked running around, being pushed on the swing, and swooping down the slide into his arms at the bottom.

  Later, after she got bored with swinging and sliding, she and her daddy stood on the bank of the pond, tossing bread crusts into the water and watching the ducks zoom over to snatch them up. Around them, the breeze stilled, the branches of the trees going silent. It was suddenly very quiet; only the splash of water and the soft babble of ducks could be heard. As the little girl tossed her last crumb to a duckling, she looked down and saw something in the water’s reflection.

  A lady, watching her from the other side of the pond.

  Blinking, the little girl looked up, but there was nothing on the far side of the water. She and her daddy were alone.

  “Sorry, ducks, that’s all the bread I have.” Her daddy tossed his last crust into the water and dusted off his hands. The ducks swarmed around him for a moment more, quacking, then glided away when they realized he didn’t have any more food. “Well, you ready to go home, sweetie?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “Mommy should be back by now.”

  She was about to answer when a faint jingling sound reached her ears, making her jerk up. The ice cream truck didn’t stop here very often, but she’d know its cheerful melody anywhere. And suddenly, she wanted an ice cream more than anything in the world. “Can I get a Creamsicle?” she asked her daddy, who laughed.

  “Ice cream? Now? You’re going to have cake tonight, you know.”

  “Please?” the little girl begged. “I won’t spoil my dinner. Please, Daddy?”

  He chuckled again, but then a strange look crossed his face. Straightening, he gazed slowly around the pond, as if he could hear something the little girl couldn’t.

  The jingles were already beginning to draw away. Impatient, the little girl tugged on his sleeve. “Daddy?”

  He shook himself. “Oh... Meghan.” His voice was strange, his eyes still on the pond in front of them. But he dug into his pocket, pulled out a green bill, and handed it to her. “Here you go,” he murmured without looking down. “Better hurry or you’ll miss the truck.”

  For a moment, she almost didn’t go. Why was he acting weird all of a sudden? But then, she remembered ice cream, and how badly she wanted it right then. She snatched the bill from his fingers and hurried away, across the park, toward the tantalizing jingle coming from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill.

  But when she reached the parking lot, there was no truck. There were no vehicles at all except their own yellow station wagon, sitting alone in the space. Confused, the little girl gazed around, wondering why she was there. There was a dollar in her hand that her daddy had given her, for...something. Where was he?

  Suddenly frightened, she turned and ran back toward the pond.

  As she sprinted up the hill, she heard someone singing.

  * * *

  The rest of the story is a little scary, and some of the details are not pleasant, so I won’t go into them now. But that day, the little girl’s father disappeared from her life for a while. For a long time, the little girl and her mommy were alone. And the girl was afraid. Because now she knew, even if it was just subconsciously, that something was out there. Something she couldn’t understand. Something that was coming for her.

  Eventually, the little girl got a new family—a new father—and a few years after that, a new brother. And though she loved her new family very much, she never gave up hope that she would find her real daddy again, someday. She kept hoping that he would come home.

  And when she discovered the other world, suddenly she understood what might have happened, all those years ago at the pond. And she held out hope that, somewhere in the strange, frightening world, her father was there. Waiting for her.

  It took a long time, and the girl went through many struggles, but because she never lost hope, eventually, she found her father again.

  Hope is a powerful thing. It keeps us from giving in to despair. It keeps us from giving up. The fey might tell you that hoping for what cannot be is foolish, but in the Nevernever, even when the situation might seem desperate or impossible, holding on to hope can make the difference between lying down in defeat and finding the strength to carry on. Sometimes, you won’t have strength or will or magic when the Nevernever throws its worst at you.

  Sometimes, hope will be all you have to rely on...and it will have to be enough.

  12

  THE DREAMS OF THE KING

  For a few heartbeats after Gilleas spoke, there was only silence.

  “No,” Varyn said at last. His voice trembled, and he staggered back from Gilleas. “No, that...that can’t be true. I’ve lived in Evenfall my whole life. I remember...everything. What you’re implying...” He trailed off, looking desperately at Other Nyx, as if her denial would somehow make it right. “We’re real,” he insisted, still staring hard at the other assassin. “Gilleas is wrong. He has to be wrong.”

  Slowly, Other Nyx shook her head. “It...it makes sense,” she whispered, and her eyes strayed to her twin, who met her gaze silently. “I have wondered for a long time now...how Evenfall could have survived. How we could still be here. Even with the glamour from the king’s Nightmares, it seemed...improbable. But even before, that memory gap has always troubled me. And now, I have proof staring me in the face. Evenfall didn’t survive. The Lady won, and I...never made it home.” She gazed at Varyn, her expression softening with grief and pain. “None of us did.”

  I dragged in a shaky breath. This whole situation was so surreal; I was having trouble making sense of it all. But if what I was hearing was true, the entire realm of Evenfall, and all the fey we had met so far, were nothing but shadow and memory. My insides roiled; I felt faintly sick. I couldn’t even imagine what Nyx and the Evenfey were going through, the sense that their whole world, their entire existence, was a lie. Nothing made sense. How were we even here? We were real. “Are you sure about this, Grimalkin?” I asked the cait sith. My voice came out shaky, and I swallowed hard. “We don’t have any real evidence of what Evenfall could be—this is a theory.”