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DARION’S PLAN REQUIRED us to allow his soldiers to restrain us. The only manacles they had handy were, unfortunately, made of cold iron. The cuffs were closed but not locked, so we could slip out of them when we needed to. The metal burned even through my stone armor.

Surrounded by Duergar soldiers, Oliver, Jasper, and I allowed ourselves to be marched from the apartment to a set of double doors that were literally thumping with the sound of the club music inside. It was obvious we’d reached some sort of inner sanctum by the number of Daoine guards on duty. Most were in their human forms, but a pair of large and unfriendly-looking monitor lizards waited like sentries on either side of the door. I swallowed hard and peered at the reptiles, knowing how unpleasant their bites would be. A flicker of movement overhead drew my attention to a perch mounted high above the door. On it rested a vulture so huge I froze in a split-second of primal fear when its beady gaze paused on me.

Darion was at the front of our group, speaking to the Daoine guard who appeared to be in charge, a man well over six feet tall with a large hooked nose. He beckoned to another Daoine, a muscular woman with tendons popping on either side of her neck and said something in her ear. She opened one of the doors, and deafening music blasted us for the second or two that it took for her to slip inside.

I shifted my weight and glanced over at Jasper, who was standing to my left. His jaw muscles were working and his eyes were tense, but he gave me a little twitch of one corner of his mouth, the ghost of a half-smile.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Daoine woman emerged and spoke to Hook Nose. He exchanged a few words with Darion and then signaled to the other guards. Two of them moved to open the double doors.

The bassline of the music bumped through my body as the Duergar shuffled us into the festival chamber. It’d been decked out to look like a high-end Vegas club. The lights were low, and the air was full of billowing mist that gave the place an ambiance of mystery. Blue pinpoint lasers drew dizzying random patterns in the fog. Small stages featured gyrating dancers of both genders and many different Fae races, and the large dance floor that surrounded a raised DJ station was packed. A balcony featured VIP groups nestled into the privacy of the shadows.

Some of the partiers paused to gawk when they spotted the stern contingent of Duergar guards escorting us around the edge of the dance floor. A few drew back as we passed, but no one on the floor seemed terribly concerned. I peered around, searching for Finvarra, but it was difficult to make out the faces on the balcony above.

Revelers scooted out of the way when we got to a crowded area, and once we’d neared the back of the room, I spotted something I’d missed in the chaos of the chamber: private balcony at the back entirely enclosed in dark-tinted glass. Finvarra had to be there. He’d probably been watching us since we entered. A shiver started at the crown of my head and cascaded down my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Our group halted at the base of the staircase that led up to the Unseelie High King. The Daoine guards moved aside to let us pass. A few of Darion’s soldiers peeled off to either side of the staircase, probably because all of us wouldn’t comfortably fit in the balcony.

At the top of the stairs, a thick glass door was pushed open by a beefy bouncer with darting, birdlike eyes. Darion threaded us between a pair of long sofas where a handful of beautiful women with glazed eyes lounged. A handful of Daoine guards lined the walls to either side, fully armed.

The glass door closed behind us, almost completely blocking out the sound of the music except for the bump of bass that vibrated through the floor. Finvarra sat in a low-backed upholstered chair, his back to us. His posture was one of a man at ease, a man who felt in control of everything and everyone around him. I couldn’t help wondering how long Periclase had been working to not only gain Finvarra’s trust, but also make the Unseelie High King believe the Duergar posed no threat.

The chair began to turn, Finvarra swiveling slowly around to face us. As we’d planned, I stayed at the back of our group and kept my head down and my face deep in the hood of my cloak, but I peeked ahead. Finvarra’s elbows were propped on the armrests, one arm ending in the stump my sword had left when I’d sliced off the tip of his wing as he’d tried to attack me in his avian form on the grounds of the Summerlands. My mouth hardened with satisfaction. Too bad for him that he wasn’t a reptilian shifter. They could usually regenerate limbs.

Something glinted against Finvarra’s chest, a sparkling object revealed by his shirt which was unbuttoned partway down his chest. My eyes widened. It was the Stone of Fal. The Unseelie High King was wearing it on a chain around his neck. He’d already tried to invoke the stone twice without success. Oberon believed Finvarra was saving his third and last invocation for after the Tuatha descended on Faerie. It would be the final step in Finvarra’s bid to take control as the High King.

As planned, Eunice approached the front of the group with Jasper trailing behind. He kept his head ducked as if in deference, to hide his face. Darion had liked our original plan of sending in someone Finvarra had history with, so that was what we went with.

Eunice dropped into a deep curtsy, made somewhat awkward with her hands bound behind her.

“Your Highness,” she said, at once humble, emotional, and eager. “I am so deeply honored you agreed to allow me to see you. Please, I beg you, tell these men I speak the truth when I say you and I have been previously acquainted!”

He regarded her coolly for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze to Darion, and Finvarra seemed annoyed with my blood uncle. “I do know this woman.”

Darion bowed. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn’t want to make assumptions about what she said.”

Finvarra flipped his fingers dismissively and looked past her at Jasper and then at Oliver and me. My blood seemed to freeze in my veins. But Finvarra’s eyes merely roved over our disguises.

“I was told you come with an offering, an object so surprising I would not believe it without seeing it for myself,” Finvarra said, his attention once again on Eunice. “Lord Darion said he saw it with his own eyes and trusts in its authenticity.”

Eunice nodded quickly several times. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. My companions and I, we have a very, very special object for you indeed. I dared not travel alone, due to the importance of this object reaching you.”

It was a tricky game, as we couldn’t lie outright so we were forced to use pieces of the truth to gain audience with Finvarra. Eunice was doing a bang-up job of dancing around the truth on the fly. We were extremely lucky that he was intrigued enough to allow us to be brought to his private balcony.

Finvarra leaned forward a bit.

Jasper’s arms flexed, his cuffs dropped, and he snatched Gae Buide from his belt. Elbowing Eunice out of the way, he sprang at Finvarra, momentum carrying them back to crash on the floor.

Eunice shrieked, covered her head, and ducked.

Everything seemed to speed up. I watched the flashing yellow blade as I shouldered past the Duergar men. Oliver was right there with me, both of us throwing off our shackles, but I was faster. I kept a hold of my restraints, the cold iron burning a stripe across my palm.

“Keep the guards from aiding Finvarra!” I shouted back at my father.

I reached down and drew the karambit hidden in my boot, a weapon Darion’s men had missed, and charged through the chaos.

In a strange déjà-vu-tinged scene, Jasper and Finvarra wrestled. Jasper’s cap and wig fell off in the struggle.

I was acutely aware of Gae Buide glinting in the blue laser lights coming from the dance floor, but this time I wasn’t going to hesitate. If Jasper accidently nicked me, I’d be dead, but we couldn’t let Finvarra get away again. Morven’s words flashed through my mind. We had to kill Finvarra now. It was our last chance.

I rushed around to Finvarra’s head and fell to my knees, drawing magic to form full armor.

Jasper was straddling Finvarra, both of them grunting and straining to overcome the other. Finvarra had an iron grip on Jasper’s hand that held the yellow blade, but Jasper was pummeling the High King with his other hand, and there wasn’t a lot Finvarra could do to fend Jasper off with a stump of an arm.

I reached into the fray with my cuffs, struggling to wrap the cold iron around Finvarra’s wrist to force him to let go of Jasper’s arm. But the old man was strong, and he barely seemed fazed by the burn of the iron. He let out a growl, and his face began to change shape.

“He’s trying to shift!” I shouted at Jasper.

Finvarra seemed to gain strength as his body morphed. He kicked his feet up and threw Jasper off. Jasper flew over me, did a half-somersault, and landed sprawled on his back. Gae Buide bounced away. I dove for the knife, sliding across the polished wood floor on my chest. My fingers wrapped around the handle, and I scrambled back toward Jasper.

Instead of finishing his metamorphosis, Finvarra’s form snapped back to humanoid. He’d risen to his feet and reached up to his neck. With his remaining hand, he grasped the Stone of Fal and yanked viciously, breaking the chain. Light began to emanate from his fist and white mist leaked through his fingers. The last thing I saw before my vision whited out in the blinding burst of Stone light was the glint of Gae Buide as Jasper dove at his blood father.

For a wild moment, I was once again in the body of the female warrior who wore ancient armor. My mind thrashed, as if it were a dream that held me under. I stood in that other woman’s body, surveying a battlefield where endless lines of skeletal riders sat on horses. I wasn’t alone. To my left and right were dozens of soldiers dressed like me, men and women alike.

I thrashed with frustration. This was no time for a vision driven by god blood!

When the light faded and my sight began to return, I crawled, squinting, toward where two figures lay limp on the floor. Jasper was face down, sprawled over Finvarra. Both men were still.

Chaos was rising around me, as everyone without New Garg blood was reacting to Finvarra’s invocation of the Stone of Fal. If he lived, any second the entire place would turn against us. If not, I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen.

I screamed Jasper’s name, my voice ringing harshly in my ears. I grasped his shoulder with both hands and heaved him over, dragging him over onto his back. His eyes rolled under his lids, and then he was peering up at me with his golden gaze.

“Thank Oberon,” I choked out.

“Is he dead?” Jasper asked.

I looked over at Finvarra. In my fear that Jasper had been mortally wounded, I hadn’t even bothered to check Finvarra’s status. His eyes gazed blankly past me. Dark blood flowed from a deep gash across his neck.

Jasper sat up and looked, too. He still gripped Gae Buide, the yellow blade swathed in dripping crimson.

“He’s dead,” I whispered. I turned to Jasper as a bolt of reality seemed to shake my entire being. “You did it. He’s dead.”

We stared at each other for a moment and then both seemed to have the same thought.

“The Stone!” I whipped around, looking for the magical object. “We have to find it!” I shouted the words so forcefully, my voice broke.

Jasper and I both scrambled on all fours around Finvarra’s lifeless body, desperately searching for the Stone of Fal.

Someone was tugging on my arm. I tried to shake them off, but then Oliver’s voice barked my name. I looked up, dazed.

“Petra, we’ve got to get out of here,” Oliver said. He had a hold of Eunice’s wrist with his other hand. Her eyes were wide with shock. “This place is going to erupt. We have to go.”

“No, we must find the Stone of Fal!” My voice pitched high with urgency.

“We can’t stay,” Oliver roared, a vein popping out on his forehead.

He took me by the upper arm and yanked me roughly to my feet. Once I was standing, I realized what he meant. Down below, Daoine were shifting into their animal forms. They were clawing at each other as terror and confusion reigned. Finvarra had used the Stone, which would have brought everyone in the immediate vicinity under his command. But the sudden death of the holder of the Stone seemed to have plunged the whole process into pandemonium.

Jasper had dragged Finvarra’s body several feet and then rolled him over to his side, looking for the Stone under the corpse.

“It’s gone,” Jasper said with a helpless shake of his head.

“No, it can’t be,” I said.

Oliver pulled at me again. “Petra, let’s go.”

I twisted around. “Where’s Darion?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver said, dragging me toward the staircase that led down from the private balcony. “But if we stay up here, we’re going to be trapped in this cage.”

True to Darion’s word, the Duergar soldiers didn’t try to interfere with our escape. Darion himself was nowhere to be seen, but Finvarra was dead. We’d done it.