Beneath me, the mistwarg slowed, going from a bounding run to an easy trot. Sneaking a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw all my companions were still there, seated atop their mounts as the wargs padded silently from the tunnel. Ash caught my gaze from his seat behind his Pale Rider, his jaw set and his expression carefully blank. Clearly, he was having just as much fun as I was.

  “We are home,” my rider said.

  Straightening, I looked up as the edges of the fog rolled back just a little to reveal a small grove in the mist. Trees were scattered around us, tendrils of mist caught in their branches, and long blades of grass brushed my boots as we padded into the open. As the fog continued to roll back, I could see the tall, crumbled silhouettes of stone ruins, overgrown with trees and vines, surrounding the grove. Tattered cloth banners hung from some of the towers, and wooden platforms and walkways connected several of the ruins. Figures ghosted between them, riders and mistwargs moving silently between the stones like ragged wraiths.

  My mistwarg came to a stop a few yards from a half-ruined gatehouse, and the Pale Rider slid from its back. As it held out an arm to help me down, two other riders emerged from behind the gate and prowled forward with spears held at their sides.

  “You bring the strangers.” The voice was soft and raspy, nearly identical to that of the rider standing beside me. “The Whisper is waiting for them at the falls. She has bidden us to send you to her when you arrive.”

  “Understood.”

  The two guards padded away, and the figure next to me turned to watch the rest of his pack come in. Once his mistwarg had stopped moving, Ash immediately swung from its back and strode up to me.

  “You’re all right?” he asked once he was close enough that only I could hear him.

  I nodded. “Kind of a wild ride.” I futilely tried smoothing down my hair, which was in tangles from riding a bouncing mistwarg across the plains. “You didn’t happen to see a giant spider crawling around those mountain paths, did you?”

  He grimaced. “And its mate. I wasn’t going to say anything to Puck.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  “If you two are talking about the massive creepy-crawly near the caves, you can save your breath.” Puck sauntered up, his red hair looking even wilder than usual. “I saw it. And I will be avoiding the mountains from now on.”

  “This way.” The rider walked by us, neither impressed nor amused by our banter. “The Whisper is waiting for us.”

  * * *

  We followed the rider through the base, ducking beneath wooden platforms and around enormous stone pillars. Riders and mistwargs stared at us, their blue eyes giving nothing away. Except for our own footsteps and the howling of wind through the peaks surrounding the grove, the camp was deathly quiet. Conversations were held in whispers, and even the silvery flames of small campfires scattered throughout the camp made no sound. Only the distant moaning of the Wailing One could be heard, constant and unbreaking, in the peaks towering overhead.

  The Pale Rider took us through the camp and continued into the forest. Like the camp, the woods were eerily quiet and still. Fog crept between roots and hovered over the grass, and I didn’t glimpse any wildlife flitting in the branches or slipping through the trees. I wondered if the animals were all shy and scared with the riders being so close, or if, like the riders themselves, they had perfected the art of not making any noise at all.

  And then I began to hear a faint sound coming through the trees. A whisper of noise, low and constant. After a moment, I recognized the sound of falling water.

  The trees opened up, and we stepped into a clearing surrounded by cliffs. Across the stones, directly in front of us, a waterfall tumbled into a shallow pool, though even the noise of the falls seemed muffled and indistinct. Mist drifted up from the churning water, partially hiding the pale figure seated on a stone before the falls.

  I blinked. I hadn’t even seen the figure at first; hunched and pale, it blended into the falls and rising mist. From this distance, it was hard to make out what was person and what was coiling spray from the waterfall.

  “The Whisper,” the Pale Rider said. It had stopped at the edge of the trees, indicating that the next part of the journey would be made without it. “She waits for you. Go to her, but do not touch the water.”

  As we drew closer to the waterfall and the figure seated on the rock, a scent came to me, sharp and somehow cloying, burning my nose and making my eyes water. I coughed, causing Ash to turn to me in alarm, placing a gentle hand on my back as I heaved.

  “Meghan?”

  “I’m fine.” I gagged, then took a quick breath to open my throat. Unfortunately, that only made it worse, and I coughed for a good few seconds before getting myself under control again. Maybe it was my half-human side that was reacting this way, but it did not like whatever was coming off the water. Glancing up, I saw everyone watching me in concern, from Ash to Puck to Gilleas to the three assassins, staring at me with wide gold eyes. “Sorry,” I told them all, wiping the tears streaming down my face. “I don’t know what that was, but it was awful.”

  You taste the tears of the Wailing One.

  The voice was a breath in my ears, coming to me even over the muted roar of the falls. In the rising mist and fog, I couldn’t see the figure move, but there was no question as to who was speaking to us.

  The bitter rage of the Wailing One, the Whisper continued. The agony of failure and despair. Two thin, wrapped arms emerged from beneath the ragged shawl, indicating the pool around us. Her grief is so great, her tears flow down the mountain, seeping into the land, poisoning everything they touch. They collect here, at this pool, and the land cries with her as the tears soak through the very rock and dirt at our feet.

  “Ew,” Puck remarked. “So, I’m hearing that taking a nice refreshing dive in the pool is out.”

  I saw your coming, the Whisper went on, ignoring Puck. The head shifted, and I caught the glimmer of a blue eye through the silvery strands, peering at me. I saw you in the fog, making your way to the Howling Peaks. I saw the Wailing One as well. She knows you are coming. She is waiting for you.

  “Is that why you called us here?” Gilleas asked. “To tell us that the Nightmare knows we are coming? Sadly, we cannot allow that to stop us.”

  I saw two paths, the Whisper said, and I was unsure if this was a response to Gilleas’s question or not. In one, you ignored my riders and continued. You made your way to the top of the Howling Peaks, where the Nightmare waited for you. And one by one, you fell. You were not able to defeat her. And the world unraveled.

  The other path led you here, the Whisper told us, as a chill ran up my spine. To this pool, to me. And when you left, the path before you grew hazy and unclear, and you vanished into the fog.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  It means I do not know what became of you once you departed this pool, the Whisper replied. It means the outcome is yet to be determined.

  “Because of something you are going to tell us,” Ash guessed.

  I do not know, the Whisper replied. It is unclear whether my words will have any effect on the outcome. But I can tell you this. Named Elder Nightmares are very powerful, and nearly immortal. There is only way to kill one—find and destroy the essence of their core. Whatever that might be. It will not be attached to the Nightmare. It could be hidden very far away. But you must destroy the core before you can slay the Elder Nightmare.

  “Uh,” Puck said, frowning. “I’m just gonna go ahead and say the thing everyone is thinking right now—what?”

  That is all I can tell you, said the Whisper. That is all the mist can provide. When you face the Wailing One in her castle atop the Howling Peaks, you must find the essence of the Nightmare’s core. Only when you destroy it will you have a chance to slay the Wailing One for good. She hunched her shoulders, drawing her arms beneath her tangle of wispy hair. That is all I have to say.

  “Yeah.” Puck crossed his arms. “I’m just going to mention it again. What?”

  But the Whisper didn’t answer. She bowed her head, long hair falling to cover her face, and didn’t say another word. I remembered the Pale Rider’s words about the Whisper, that she spoke only when she had something important to convey.

  I guess she had delivered her message and was done speaking for a while.

  After a lingering moment of silence, we turned and headed back to the edge of the forest, feeling the gaze of the Whisper on our backs the entire way.

  The Pale Rider waited for us at the edge of the woods, both mount and rider nearly indistinguishable from the mist itself. “The Whisper has spoken,” he said, regarding us all with an icy gaze. “Consider yourselves both lucky and cursed. Many never hear her voice.” He tilted his head, wispy strands of hair floating around him. “Now that you have heard the Whisper, what is your next destination?”

  “The Howling Peaks,” I said. “To the lair of the Wailing One.”

  He nodded. “The climb will be treacherous,” he said. “I cannot take you all the way to the Nightmare’s castle, but I will show you the path up the mountain. Beware, though. Once you are through the fog, you are beyond our territory. Many Nightmares and Elder Nightmares roam those peaks, and our own warriors rarely venture into the mountains.”

  “We appreciate your help,” I told the rider. “If you do speak to the Whisper, please convey my gratitude for the information she revealed. It was very important.”

  “Yes,” agreed the rider. “The Whisper never speaks without need. Seasons pass, and her voice is never heard. But, come...” He took a step back, melting halfway into the fog with barely a thought. “Your time with us is at an end. Follow me, and I will show you the path to the Wailing One.”

  Interlude

  The girl who lost her father and hoped for years to find him did find other friends along the way. Not many, for people seemed to forget she existed once she left their presence, but those she did find, she kept close.

  Her best friend, for example, seemed as if he’d always been there. Always a part of her childhood, conjured out of nothing, like a dream whose beginning she couldn’t remember. But later, after myriad adventures, heartbreak, and reconciliation, she finally got the story of how they met out of him.

  Or at least, this is how he told it.

  * * *

  Puck did not want to go to the human world.

  Normally, he liked visiting the mortal realm; there were so many oblivious humans, living their oblivious human lives, doing oblivious human things. So gullible, ignorant, naive. They were always fun to play with.

  Today, however, he had a mission. A very long mission, involving a mortal girl who was not completely human, who didn’t know she was not completely human. And she could never find out. That would be his job for the next decade or so. Hang around this mortal girl, protect her from anything “strange” that might appear to hurt her, and make sure she never realized what she really was. It didn’t sound fun at all.

  He would just have to make his own fun.

  The schoolyard was noisy and crowded, full of shrieking human children running around like wild puppies. Sitting on the outer wall, Puck swung his heels against the brick and watched the crowd of mortals swarming the play yard. He had glamoured himself to look like them: a human child around eight or nine years old, with a missing front tooth and his red hair hanging in his eyes. But no one would notice him until he wanted to be noticed. And right now, that seemed like a good thing.

  Puck usually liked hanging around children, or at least, small children. Very young humans could still see the fey. Toddlers still believed in magic, imaginary friends, and monsters under the bed, until they grew up a bit and “forgot” about them. But this bunch was a bit too old to be able to see through glamour anymore. Probably just as well. He wasn’t here to play; he had a job to do.

  He scanned the schoolyard, watching small groups of children swing on the monkey bars, or stand in a circle throwing balls at a child in the middle. Oberon had given him a description of the girl, but none of these children seemed to be the one he was looking for. He’d thought waiting near the playground where all the other kids were playing was a no-brainer, but the girl he was waiting for had other ideas, apparently.

  “Well, this is boring,” Puck finally muttered to no one in particular. “Where is this kid?”

  Hopping down from the wall, he went looking for her.

  Wandering around the building, he walked past smaller groups of children, circling all the way to the back, until he came to an isolated part of the schoolyard. There was nothing back here but a few shady trees and a peeling picnic table that was probably for teachers and staff.

  Voices caught his attention. A few yards away, a large boy had trapped a smaller kid against the wall and was looming over him menacingly.

  “Where’s your money, Brian?” the taller human demanded, shoving a thick finger into the smaller boy’s chest. “You still owe me from last week. Lemme have it.”

  The skinny boy cringed. “I don’t have anything,” he responded. “I swear. My mom stopped giving me money after I kept ‘losing’ it.”

  “You’re a liar,” the other said, and pushed Brian’s shoulder, shoving him back into the wall. “Turn out your pockets.”

  “No!”

  “Okay.” Smirking, the bully grabbed the human by the collar and dragged him off the wall. His other hand clenched into a fist. “Guess I’ll have to do it for you, then.”

  Watching this, Puck shook his head. Humans never changed. In any era, in any country, in nearly any age, they still bullied, attacked, dominated, and preyed on their own. For a moment, he considered stepping in, if only for the opportunity to cause a little chaos. But he wasn’t here for this; he had another human to find. Besides, if the skinny kid couldn’t stand up for himself, he would never get anywhere in life.

  With a shrug, he turned away, intent on continuing his search, when another voice rang out, stopping him.

  “What are you guys doing?”

  Puck blinked. A third child had appeared, walking out from beneath one of the trees, a book tucked under one arm. She was smaller than the two boys, with shoulder-length blond hair and large blue eyes. When she saw what was going on, her lips thinned, and she stepped forward.

  “Hey, leave him alone,” she snapped. “I’m going to tell the teacher.”

  Puck smiled. Well, that was fortunate. The girl he was looking for had finally decided to show up. Even if he hadn’t known what she looked like, he would have recognized her instantly. She had her father’s silver-blond hair, and her facial features were slightly too elegant to be purely human. Only another faery would recognize her for what she was, a half fey, but to him, it was blindingly obvious. This was the daughter of his Summer King.

  Which meant he was going to have to protect her and keep her away from everything Faery until her mortal life came to an end.

  Fun.

  The bully turned, and his mouth thinned dangerously. Striding forward, he shoved the girl to the ground and loomed over her as she cried out in pain and fury. The smaller boy against the wall immediately took off, sprinting around the building and out of sight. “You keep your mouth shut,” the bully threatened, clenching his fist. “I’m not afraid to hit a girl.”

  Okay, then. Puck’s eyes narrowed, and a flare of glamour went through the air. Big mistake, pal. Let the games begin.

  Puck’s body exploded into a cloud of black feathers, and he shot into the air as a large black bird. Swooping from the sky, he plunged toward the bully and flew into his face, beating him with his wings and screaming the cries of an enraged raven. The boy recoiled, raising his arms and swatting feebly, but Puck clung to him easily, cawing and screeching. Scratches appeared on the boy’s forearms as Puck continued his attack, pecking at the boy’s face and buffeting him with his wings.

  With a cry, the bully turned to run. But he was too busy shielding his head to watch where he was going. Tripping on a loose rock, he pitched forward and fell face-first in the dirt. The breath left his lungs in a painful expulsion, and he gasped airlessly, mouth gaping.

  That should do it. Gleefully satisfied, Puck backed off to let the human go, but suddenly a blow from behind knocked him from the sky. Stunned, he fluttered around to see the girl standing over him, her book raised to smack him again.

  “Get out of here!” she cried, aiming another swat in his direction. “Go on! Shoo!”

  Ow! What the heck? Puck dodged the second blow, flapping backwards into the sky with a caw. Stepping forward, the girl placed herself between him and the boy gasping in the dirt, the book held in front of her like a shield.

  Gazing down at the human he was supposed to protect for the next decade or so, Puck shook his head in disbelief. Are you serious?

  “Shoo,” she told him again. “Go on, bird. Get out of here.”

  Well, this was unexpected. But he certainly wasn’t going to attack the human he was supposed to watch over. Even if she had whacked him with a book. With a last caw, Puck turned and flapped away, soaring into the branches of a nearby tree. Perching on a limb, he watched the girl turn and kneel next to the bully, holding out a hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  Unsurprisingly, the ungrateful little snot smacked away the offered hand and lurched to his feet, caught halfway between bursting into tears and snarling in her face. Wiping his eyes, he staggered off around the corner of the school building and vanished from sight.