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“Fenrother is coming?” I ask, my voice cracking.

But Abbe has gone. I am, apparently, alone once again in the rapidly darkening garden. The flowers look like the colour is slowly being drained from them, turning them to black ash. I get to my feet, gripping the side of the fountain for assistance. The water within has completely disappeared, leaving only a layer of dark green slime. I back away from it, knowing there werethingsthere earlier which I don’t want to discover more about.

The chain tinkles merrily on the gravel, as if the damn thing is sentient and enjoying its work. I go to where it is buried in theground and heave on it. There’s no real surprise when it doesn’t budge.

“Trying to escape?” Yarain towers over me.

“Trying to get out of the rain.” I glare at him, my hair now plastered to my head and my clothes sopping wet.

He goes to grab me but takes hold of my injured arm. I hiss in pain, and he cries out, stumbling back, staring at his hand. It steams in the rain, as if burnt.

Drops of fresh blood drop onto the chain. It too steams.

Of course, it is enchanted with Faerie magic. I seize my advantage, swiping my hand down my arm and covering it with the red stuff, I curl my fingers around the chain and pull again.

This time it gives, snapping at the point I touch it, setting me free.

I wipe at my arm again, covering both hands with blood and holding them up to Yarain, before wiping one hand down my face and the other down my uninjured arm.

He stumbles back, fear in his eyes.

“Now I’m escaping,” I say before taking off at a run out of the formal garden, through the now monochrome archway, and out into a grey field beyond.

If Yarain is following, I don’t look back. Instead, I hitch up the dress and skirts as best as I can and run as if Fenrother is chasing me.

At any time, I expect to be jerked to a halt or have some sort of spell put on me which means I am unable to move, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, as I cross the field heading towards a collection of Faerie dwellings, I hear behind me what can only be described as a series of explosions.

Are explosions even a thing in the Yeavering?

My breath ragged, I turn to look, knowing it could mean I give away any advantage I might have. The sight which greets me is absolutely not what I was expecting at all.

It looks like hell has come to the Faerie hills.

The queen’s castle burns with a purple and blue flame. Here and there, reds and yellows flicker but it’s nothing compared to the main event. How is this even possible? A castle made of magic shouldn’t be able to burn at all.

Unless there is other magic at work.

Pain grips my left side, robbing what remains of my breath from my body and causing me to drop to my knees. I clutch at my injured arm, but the crushing pain in my chest isn’t related to my injured arm. It has to be something else, most likely related to the Faerie and their attempts to break me.

I’m not going to give them the satisfaction. I force myself to my feet and stumble towards the dwellings. They should contain Duegar and if I have any luck left at all, they will hopefully be sympathetic towards me like Abbe and the ones who inhabited the palace.

I really, really hope they got out before it set on fire.

My chest cramps, my entire body feeling like it’s folding in on itself as an incredible pain sears through me. Whatever Mab did, I think I’m done for.

As my vision dims, I think I see a shadow in the sky, silhouetted against the flames.

Could it be…

“Fenrother?” I can only whisper his name as the darkness claims me.

FENROTHER

Flames burst from my lungs like they should have always been part of me. The magical fire spreads perfectly over the queen’s palace. It catches easily, flames purple, blue, and green, almost as if they’ve been waiting for me all this time.

I left Warden and the others at the gate, dealing with the Redcaps, the bloodthirsty creatures welcoming the fight, although how the Redcaps felt about it is anyone’s guess. All three, the Brag, the Bluecap and the Barghest, are battle hardened in the pits of the Night Lands.

No sensible soldier would want to go up against them.