I was lying on something soft and dense. Not the hard, rancid wood of the house, nor the cold cobblestones outside its stoop. Grass? It felt wet, too. I inhaled… and smelled something floral. Sweet.

  “Renner?” I croaked.

  No answer. I licked my lips. They felt like cracked parchment.

  If I open my eyes, will he be standing over me? Holding another knife? Gods, is this how I die? After everything else, after every mess I’ve been through… is he going to kill me because I almost set him on fire?

  And that’s not even what I was trying to do! I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I was just… I don’t even know. He shouldn’t have hurt Gil. That doesn’t excuse what I… I could have killed him. Ashes, I could have killed all of us. Throwing fire in a room full of spilled ale and old wood? What was I thinking?!

  I sucked in deep, steadying breaths. The air was cool and clean, filling me up with the scent of fragrant flowers and fresh air. Renner must have brought me outside. Maybe he preferred to murder people in nice environments.

  I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all. And I could have killed all three of us because of it. No wonder he looked so upset.

  Hasn’t stabbed me yet, though. That got to count for something.

  But… oh, Gil…

  My eyes snapped open. The stablemaster was hurt. Perhaps mortally. Gods, and I’d fainted, and left him alone with Renner and-

  “Were you drowning?”

  I bolted upright with a shriek- or, started to. Bile swam at the back of my throat as soon as I moved. I clapped a hand over my mouth and doubled over, my stomach heaving.

  I seemed to be in a garden. No, the garden. His. Endless rows of manicured plants waved and swayed in a pleasantly warm breeze. The sky was steel-gray, sunless but not dark, frothed with clouds shaded like ripe plums and blood-hued apples.

  More smells hit me, spicy and sweet and bold, and they did little to assuage the nausea. There was no food in my stomach, so my moment spent retching was dry and uncomfortable but, thankfully, fruitless.

  He was a few paces away, sitting in front of a rosebush. Its flowers were in bloom, creating a cascade of lush green and vivid scarlet. Most of them, at least; there were a few scattered buds with shriveled petals and blackened tips. He was rubbing one pale thumb along one of the wilted flowers and watching me.

  “You seem able to breathe well enough, so I can assume you’re out of immediate danger. The state of you implies… some kind of water-based disaster. Did you fall into a river, Brin?”

  I panted, jaw slack and my face inches from lush, dark soil. How can I be here? I’m not asleep. I’m not dreaming. I just… I fainted. That’s all. Why am I here? My mind spun. And then, with bladelike clarity, I remembered his warning.

  I need to answer the question.

  “No,” I gasped, fighting to steady myself. “No river. I just… over-compensated.” I was still soaked, so much that there was a puddle of muddy soil forming beneath me. I could feel cold water sloshing in my boots and dripping from my hair. My cloak felt so heavy it was practically choking me. I undid the clasp and it fell to the ground.

  He rose, head tilting to one side. Immaculate black hair graced one shoulder, which was wrapped in green fabric. The cloth shimmered like water under sunlight, and cast his features in an almost ethereal glow.

  “Ah. My next guess was that you’d fallen asleep beside a washbasin.” He chuckled and stepped closer.

  I took a deep breath. The garden air was… intoxicating. With the wave of nausea over, everything around me seemed decadent and alluring and… just so achingly beautiful. Especially after what a nightmare the entire morning had been.

  And what it still was. This may have been the first time I wanted to be here, rather than in the waking world, but reality couldn’t be escaped. Renner was livid, and perhaps hurt, and Gil was certainly in need of help.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” I pressed a hand to my temples, stifling a groan. My head ached. Did I hit it when I fell? I don’t remember. Maybe I didn’t just faint, maybe I’m actually lying unconscious in that awful house. And Renner… gods, what is he going to do?

  “I can’t be here.” The words came out with a fresh swell of panic. “I need to wake up.” I pressed both palms into the soft soil and heaved myself upright. My knees trembled but I managed to stand. The ache in my temples became abruptly sharper, almost knifelike, and with a moan I stumbled sideways.

  He caught me.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d touched me. There had been several occasions thus far, and the feel of each was horrifyingly memorable. Hands that were strong, but gentle. Skin that was cool, but not cold.

  But now one of those hands was gripping my forearm, and the other my hip. I was very aware of how cold I was and, in startling contrast, of the sudden spark of heat in my belly. And of how my soaked tunic was clinging much too tightly to every curve.

  Run, my mind whispered.

  Stay, my body purred.

  Everything in me went rigid. It wasn’t with fear, exactly; it was… wrongness. These were hands that could rip me apart, that probably wanted to rip me apart, no matter what he claimed about benevolence. Hands that doubtlessly had an untold amount of blood on them. I tilted my chin up, met those endlessly dark eyes for the barest second, and then tore myself away.

  “I n-need to wake up.” My cheeks burned and the heat in my stomach flared.

  His hands fell to his sides and that perfect, rose-red mouth twitched into the shadow of a smile.

  I swallowed and looked away, swaying but staying upright. “Gil’s been stabbed. I c-can’t be here, I need to wake up and help him. Gods, and stop Renner from finishing the job. And find… f-find…”

  My chin quivered. I clenched my fists, forcing the fear down, and looked back up at him. “Please, please, let me go back. We can speak tonight, if that’s what you want, but I need to wake up now or people are going to die!”

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  One eyebrow arched, but he otherwise seemed unperturbed. “How dire. I had no idea your life was so exciting.”

  I gaped, shivering despite the warm air whispering at my collarbone. “That isn’t funny! You… you keep saying you don’t mean me any harm. Well, now’s the chance to prove it. Send me back!”

  The little smile faded. “Would that I could, mortal. Either you’ve fallen asleep, or- more likely, given everything you just said- you’re unconscious. There’s no point in me hurling you back into such a state.” His carved features took on a more solemn expression as he turned and knelt back down before the rosebush. One hand traced a wilted bloom. “You’ll wake in your own time.”

  I glanced around, teeth gnashing and fingers tangling into my sopping hem. “No, no, that can’t… Isn’t there anything you can do?”

  He spared me a glance that, though voiceless, spoke volumes.

  I paced a trail in the lush grass. Drops of water glistened as they fell around me. “Salt and ashes, what do I do?!”

  He watched, looking vaguely amused, and continued stroking the dead rose.

  “You could make yourself useful.”

  I stopped midstep. He sounded as if he was trying not to laugh. I glowered and he cast his other hand out with enviable, careless grace, indicating… was that a watering pail?

  I blinked. My freshly kindled fury sputtered and died. “Is that… are you… you can’t be gardening.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “No. Evil doesn’t tend plants.”

  He laughed. The sound was low and throaty, and an uncomfortable heat licked at my insides again. “You’ve been here before, mortal. And you seem intelligent. In a realm with no sun, did you truly assume this place tends itself?”

  Now that was an interesting question. I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled the warm, fragrant air. I just have to wait. The stablemaster, Renner, Teela… there’s nothing I can do. I fainted, so I’ll probably wake up in a minute or two, and then I can… I don’t even know. But right now, perhaps it’s alright to be distracted. Perhaps it’s even good. Just… just for a moment.

  I tilted my face up and examined the sky. It was beautiful, though nothing compared to the vivid, breathtaking majesty of my previous visits. Which had all been at night… it stood to reason, then, that this was what daytime- or some part of it, at least- looked like in this place. No sun, no stars, but a vibrantly clouded sky still bright with… something. The light was faint, a distant glow from somewhere far behind the clouds, and for all that I squinted and turned I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was just… there. Dim light as far as I could see, in every direction.

  I need to answer the question. I glanced over. He was looking at me. I wondered if he’d been about to offer the reminder again.

  “Honestly? It’s not something I’ve given much thought to. This place… is there truly no sun here? Ever?”

  He glanced up at the sky, face twisting briefly into a grimace. “The presence of a sun would be death, here. It wasn’t always so… but, to answer your question; no. This sky has its shades and tempers, but never a glimpse of anything from the Day Court.”

  My jaw went slack. Once again, the fact that I was being told things that were perhaps unheard of to mortal ears hit me. I felt cowed by the knowledge… and wildly curious.

  “Day Court? So there’s… two? Is it always daytime there? Wait, why are there two?”

  He chuckled. “More than two, mortal.”

  I sank back into the grass, shivering from more than cold. I’d seen very little of this realm, but it still seemed impossibly vast. The thought that there were other parts- presumably with different skies, however that worked- was difficult to wrap my mind around.

  “How… how many?”

  He didn’t answer. When I glanced back over he regarded me, eyes glinting, and indicated the silver pail again.

  He means it. He wants me to water his plants. He’s an ancient, powerful, evil monster and he’s… trying to get his rosebush to bloom. I shook my head in baffled wonder and stood.

  I’d scarcely wrapped my fingers around the metal before glancing his way and dropping it with a gasp. The blackened bud beneath his fingertips was… changing. The petals were stretching, unfolding, reaching out towards him, and there were little crimson veins threading through the ebony.

  It looked like a witchwood leaf. Not the coloring, exactly, but the motion. A plant that was alive and trying so hard to touch him… My chest tightened and I felt the sudden urge to weep.

  I turned away and covered my mouth, praying he hadn’t noticed my reaction. I’m being silly. Ridiculous. It’s just a plant, it’s not… it’s nothing like… It’s the stress of everything. It’s getting to me.

  “Not all of my peers,” I wasn’t looking, but I could just hear the snarl in his voice, “Share my appreciation for the more charming aspects of life. All it took was one heedless misstep, and half my garden withered. My own fault for allowing a raugnot on the grounds.”

  I managed to blink away the tide of emotion. “Raugnot?” My hands wrapped around the cool metal and I tilted the pail slowly, sprinkling out clear water that smelled like honey.

  “Mm. Detestable things.” His hand slid deeper into the vivid cascade and he caressed another blackened bud. This one shared its state with a few nearby leaves, and as I watched- open-mouthed and wide-eyed, heart throbbing- they, too, began to unfurl.

  “Worse than humans?” I regretted my half-hearted attempt at humor as soon as I said it. He paused and looked up at me, eyebrows raised and lips curving upwards. His eyes gleamed in a way that made me want to turn and run.

  I whirled away and began watering another plant. “W-we make messes, too, you know. And we, er, steal shards and try to set your home on fire and-”

  “Did you just make a joke, Brin?”

  My face burned and I stepped to another plant. This one had a charred orange stem and sharp-tipped leaves the color of freshly churned butter. It smelled like ginger and burning wood.

  “I’ve been known to make them,” I mumbled, ducking my chin down. There was the sound of rustling cloth, and after a moment’s silence I dared to glance over my shoulder. He was standing, regarding me with eyes that were too intense. Too focused on me. I sucked in a breath. “Sometimes we stab you with witchwood, too. Very troublesome.”

  He chuckled. I felt my own lips twitch, too. Warm air ruffled my hair, inviting me to continue. To relax, to let my guard down, to just… be. Here, in a garden, tending to plants that reached…

  I swallowed. Tightened my grip on the silver pail.

  “This doesn’t… nothing’s changed,” I whispered. I peered up through my lashes, pulse thrumming.

  He cocked his head to the side and drew closer. Still was that unhurried grace, as if he had all the time in the world. “Oh? I don’t recall you being so exposed, before.” Another throaty laugh, and heat flooded my face as his gaze dragged very deliberately downwards, along the length of my dripping tunic. He added, almost casually, “And I am not referring to your attire.”

  I twisted my fingers around the metal, and twisted my mouth into a rueful smile. “I just meant… this was nice. Being here. Gardening. Gods, I miss gardening! I’d give anything for… But, nothing’s changed. I just… it was nice to have a moment of peace. Things are bad. Really bad. My friend’s been taken by one of you, and Renner…” The amusement on his face vanished, replaced by a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. And there, again, that shadow behind him, stretching too far, swallowing up the light… I closed my eyes. “I’m not going to stop trying, you know? He says she’s dead, but I’m going to find her, and I know that’s probably very foolish and I’ll probably die and really Renner might kill me first anyways because I tried to set him on fire but-”

  “If you are near a Fae, you need to flee.” He was in front of me so quickly that I stumbled back. All the velvet and humor of his voice had disappeared, replaced by cold steel. “The moment you wake up. Abandon your friend, if you must. If not for the sake of your own life, for the sake of the weapon you carry.”

  I offered a weary sigh. “Or bring it to you tonight, right? Then it’s fine if I run off and get myself killed.” His lips pressed together. I sniffled and looked away. “Heh. Nice try.”

  The air around us seemed to grow still; even the plants stopped rustling. When I dared to peer back up a moment later, I was met with bared, flashing teeth.

  “Or perhaps you can ask a different Fae for help.” His voice was dripping with malice. I reeled back. The pail fell with a clatter.

  “Ask… what? Who?”

  He moved closer, too close, and I backed up. I felt sharp pricks as butter-hued leaves poked against my trousers. And then, with a cold thrill of dread, movement as the plant began to stretch…

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering, mortal.”

  And then the world tilted sideways. The steel sky flared pale gold, and the snarling face above me vanished.