Hazel was pretty sure that people who went without sleep for weeks died. Years was ridiculous. And it was equally incredible to think that she’d been trained by the knights here under the hill—trained to be like them. She glanced to the three who stood to one side of the Alderking’s throne, looking as though they’d stepped out of paintings from a time that never was. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“And yet,” the Alderking said, gesturing to the air as though that was all the explanation needed. Magic as both question and answer. “We came to your window and carried you through the air to our court, evening after evening. You are the knight you always dreamed of being.”

Breathe, Hazel told herself. Breathe.

She remembered the tiredness that had come over her in Philadelphia, a lassitude that had never quite left her. Now, at least, she knew where it had come from—not puberty, as her mother had believed. “I never dreamed of being your knight.”

“Indeed?” drawled the Alderking, as though he knew the truth of her heart better than she ever could. “I forbade you from telling your day self about our arrangement, but there is no small pleasure in seeing you so astonished.”

Hazel was speechless. She felt as though she didn’t know herself. As if she’d betrayed her own ideals in some vast and profound way, but she wasn’t yet sure how deep that betrayal went. She remembered her dream of riding beside other knights, of punishing humans with a grin on her face, and shuddered. Was that the person she’d become?

He laughed. “Well, Sir Hazel, if you haven’t come here as my knight, why have you come?”

She had to think fast. She had to push away thoughts of her other, untrustworthy self.

He must not know that she’d been the one to smash Severin’s coffin. Since she’d been awake all the night before, following Ben through the woods, her other self wouldn’t have shown up, couldn’t have been interrogated, couldn’t have revealed anything. And since the Alderking hadn’t wanted her to know about her night self, he wasn’t the mysterious Ainsel. Which meant her knight self might have an ally in his court, someone whom she was working with.

Hazel’s gaze went to the creature lying at the Alderking’s feet. This was the being to whom she’d rendered a promise, and while it had accepted her vow in the Alderking’s name, maybe it had power over her still.

“I came here because there’s a monster in Fairfold. I wanted to know how to slay it.”

His smile was cold as his hand went to lift a silver-chased goblet and bring it to his mouth. A few of his courtiers laughed. “Sorrow, she’s called. A great and fearsome creature, her skin hardened to bark tough enough to bend even faerie metal. You cannot slay her—and before you ask, the only antidote to the sleeping sickness she brings, to the moss that seeps into your veins at her touch, is her sap-like blood. So how about I make you another bargain, Hazel Evans?”

“What kind of bargain?” Hazel asked.

“The monster hunts for Severin. After all these long years, I discovered a means to control her. She obeys me now.” He raised his hand to show off a bone ring.

He spoke on, not noticing her grimace. “Bring me Severin, and I won’t use her might against Fairfold. I will even keep my people in check. Things will return to the way they once were.”

Hazel was so surprised she laughed. “Bring you Severin?” He might as well have asked for her to bring him the moon and the stars.

The Alderking didn’t look particularly amused. He looked impatient. “Yes, that’s the order I intended to give my Hazel, but last night passed without her arrival. That’s two nights you’ve cost me her service, counting this one. She is to hunt down the horned boy—my son, Severin—who’s escaped his confinement. She is to kill anyone he is in league with and drag him before me to face my wrath.”

Bring him Severin. His son. Her prince. A very real prince.

Am I actually capable of doing that? Hazel wondered. She was a little worried she was going to laugh again. It all seemed so impossible. “Why me?” she managed.

“I think it would be appropriate if it was a mortal who defeated him,” the Alderking said. “Your better self would know not to trifle with me, but in case you have some romantic idea of warning my son, let me explain why you ought not do that. You think I have done your people such grievous wrongs, but allow me to demonstrate what I could do without any effort at all.” He turned to one of his knights. “Bring me Lackthorn.”

A few moments later, a fierce-looking goblin with grayish skin and pointed ears came before the Alderking, holding a dirty hat in his hands.

“What pleasures do I allow you in town, Lackthorn?”

The goblin shrugged. “Only a few. I steal the cream and break some dishes. When a woman threw dirty water on me, I drowned her. Nothing more than you said I might do.”

Hazel was astonished at the casualness with which he listed awful things. But no one else seemed surprised. The Alderking was looking down on him as though these were normal faerie caprices. Maybe to him, they were. “You didn’t always let them go so far, though, did you?”

“I have allowed more leeway as I have come to see what a blight you mortals are. But attend closely. Lackthorn, if I gave you leave to do what you’d like, what would you have done?” The Alderking cut a glance at Hazel.

“What would I have done?” The little goblin laughed in such a gluttonous, awful way that the sound shivered up Hazel’s spine. “I’d set fires and burn up their houses with them inside. I’d pinch and pinch them until they ached to their very bones. I’d curse them so they’d pine away, then I’d gnaw on what was left. What would I do if you gave me leave? What wouldn’t I do?”

“Did you know that the meat of the hazelnut was once thought to be the repository of all wisdom?” the Alderking said. “Be wise, Hazel. Lackthorn is one of the least dangerous of my troop. Imagine the answer the Bone Maiden might give. Or Rawhead. Or my splendid, monstrous Sorrow. Do not test my goodwill. Bring me Severin or I will harrow Fairfold. I have plans afoot and I would not like them to be interrupted. Sorrow hunts for him now, but I need her for other things.”

Hazel felt as though she couldn’t quite get her breath. Music still played in the background, people still whirled around, laughing and dancing, but it all went a little blurry and odd in her peripheral vision. She seemed to have been robbed of her power of speech. He’d made a threat so vast and terrible she couldn’t quite believe she’d heard it right.

Hazel could tell from the Alderking’s expression that he no more expected Hazel to speak than he expected a toad to turn into a toadstool, but she had to say something.

Clearing her throat, she spoke. “If you set Sorrow on the town, I’ll stop you.”

He had a cruel laugh. “You? Like a wren stops a storm? Go now, Sir Hazel, and delight in the revel. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin your hunt. I will give you two days and two nights.”

The knight with the screaming faces on his shoulder plates stepped to her elbow. A lutist began playing. Lackthorn made a bow and disappeared into the crowd. Hazel knew she was dismissed.

“Oh,” the Alderking said, and she turned back to him. “One more thing. My son has a sword—a sword he stole from me. Bring it here and I will forgive your seven-year debt. Now, aren’t you pleased that I’ve given you this task?”