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Linton shrugs, pulling at it until it finally bursts open. “Not all in the Yeavering always belonged to the Faerie,” he says.

As we turn the next corner, the smell hits almost physically.

“What is Guyzance keeping down here?” Warden exclaims, his hooves dancing over the stone flags.

“Death,” a voice growls from the darkness ahead.

“Is that you, Barghest?” Warden asks.

“Like there would be anything else in the dark talking about death,” I grumble, flicking a torch on the wall alight with a flame from my tongue.

The light flickers around the large dungeon with multiple cells. If there are things in them, they’ll stay quiet if they know what’s good for them. Stood next to the bars in the cell nearest to us is a hulking shape with glowing blue eyes.

“You brought a Wyrm and a Bluecap?” it says.

“Reavely, may I present Fenrother and Linton,” Warden replies.

“You know this Barghest?” Linton asks.

“We fought together in the Night Lands.”

“I saved his skin more than once,” the dark shape says. “He owes me.”

“I probably do,” Warden admits. “And did you just produce fire, Fenrother?”

“The Wyrm flames,” Linton says, his eyes huge.

“I do not have fire,” I say, staring at the lit torch.

“I don’t give a shit about the Wyrm. Get me out of here, Warden,” Reavely snarls.

The centaur rears and slams one of his hooves against the lock. The door swings open, and the Barghest swaggers out, his shaggy fur encrusted with dirt.

It would appear the smell is him.

This is it. A feral assassin, a brooding centaur, and a stinking black dog are the monstrous army to take on the Faerie and free my mate.

I think I stood more of a chance alone.

ALICE

Yarain holds out his hand from the doorway, and the chain unclips from the wall, floating into his grip like an obedient dog.

“The queen wishes to see you.”

I don’t reply, instead standing and holding the other end of the chain in my hand to save my wrist. The queen could just raise a finger and have me appear in front of her, but it seems she prefers to have me dragged around in chains.

I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking it bothers me.

Yarain takes a different route from last time, as we don’t pass through the guardroom again. Instead we enter a long passage which, after what seems like forever and I’m wishing I’d had a chance to have a wee before we left, a door pops us out into a formal garden.

The sun beats down on the box hedges so beloved of the Faerie. All too bright flowers exude their artificial scent, and re-animated insects flutter brokenly around them.

Ahead of us is a circular fountain, set in the centre of a low maze. The queen, along with a number of other Faerie, male andfemale, are gathered. They are fawning over her, and she looks bored.

“Ah, the entertainment,” she says as Yarain brings me up to them.

I yawn. She needs me. I don’t have to play along. Pretty sure she’ll get bored really quickly.