Then you were truly well chosen. Open the lid, Cicely.

Ulean’s gusts blew steadily around me, rippling across the waters. I sucked in my breath and opened the lid.

Within the flat, narrow box rested a pair of keys—one golden, one silver. They glimmered, and as I slowly reached in and took the silver one in my hands, a slow, cool rush began to rise through my body. I caught my breath and, not knowing what pushed me, turned to Rhiannon and held out the box. She held my gaze for a moment, then lifted the golden key.

We clasped hands and turned to the water. Something within was compelling me and apparently Rhia as well. As we faced the pond, the keys tightly in hand, the pool of water began to bubble. It fumed and frothed and rippled out in concentric circles as if something had jarred it from below. And then the water began to surge out, a ringed tidal wave splashing toward us out of the shallow crater in which it lay. I panicked—that much water could drown us, but as we stood there, facing the oncoming surge, something inside whispered to be calm, to wait.

“Get behind us!” I barked the order to the others, and Chatter, Grieve, and Kaylin crowded in without argument.

As the surge foamed out of the bowl and toward us, racing white steeds leading the wall of water, I sucked in a deep breath. Rhia did the same. We steeled ourselves, closing our eyes, but the expected impact didn’t come. Instead, it was as if we were standing on boulders in the center of a rushing river.

I opened my eyes, cautiously, to see the waves swirling around us, splashing us as they rolled by. But Rhiannon and I—and the men behind us—stayed dry as the waters parted around us.

It felt like we were in some surreal revenge-of-naturemovie. The surge seemed to continue for hours, but it must have only been a few minutes, and then the path cleared.

I glanced behind us to see the water rolling through the opening through which we’d come. The Black Annis’s body was gone, swept up in the flow.

“Look.” Rhiannon’s hushed voice focused my attention again and I turned back to the crater that had been the pool of water. There, in the center, a pillar had thrust itself up from the ground. Formed of what looked like skulls, the bones were interlaced with amethyst and quartz, peridot and garnets. A grisly tower, with a door in the center that was gold on top, silver on the bottom, with two keyholes.

A tremor started in my legs and worked its way up to my heart. This was it. This was the beginning of the last leg of our journey. We were nearing Lainule’s heartstone. I glanced over at Rhia and she nodded. We stepped forward, into the crater, and crossed the sloping bottom toward the tower.

Grieve, Chatter, and Kaylin silently followed behind us. They did not question or try to interfere. Once we reached the tower, we could measure its true height. It was thrusting out of the ground like some gigantic stalagmite, a good twenty feet high. And from here we could see that the skulls were intermingled with leg and arm bones, woven together in a tapestry.

The bones were purest white, shimmering with both their own light and the light of the gems. I wanted to reach out, to caress one of the skulls near me, but when my hand neared it, a low hiss made me withdraw. A golden green snake wove its way out of the eye socket, staring at me as it coiled, waiting. I nodded to it. There were guardians still, and we’d have to walk softly from here on out.

I turned to Rhia. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yes. I think…we have to do this at the same time.”

And so we stepped up to the door, inserted our keys, and on the count of three, we turned them, and the tumblers clicked into place.

Chapter 12

The door slowly swung open, the keys staying within the locks. The archway was rounded, and the floor within was tiled just like the passage through which we’d first come—the stones shimmering from some dark and brilliant internal light.

I looked at the others, then stepped through. As I passed the entryway, a hush descended, and once again the pressure of ancient magic fell on our shoulders.

Grieve slipped up to my side and motioned for me to stop. “Let Kaylin take the lead. I sense he is needed here.”

I nodded, pressing back against the wall to allow Kaylin to slip by. We were working as a single entity now, trusting each other’s instincts. Kaylin stopped beside me, touching my cheek.

“You and Rhiannon…life will never be the same,” he said, then faced front. We fell in behind him, single file—me, then Rhia, Grieve, and lastly, Chatter brought up the rear.

The passage was short, opening into a room. But in front of the room, a lone maiden sat. I would have called her a girl, but she was dressed in a flowing gown and her hair rippled with gold, spilling down her shoulders. She looked as fragile as a butterfly caught in a strong wind. At first I thought she was a spirit—and maybe I was right, but there was no way in hell any of us were going to touch her to find out. The power surrounding her was so strong it shoved us back, like a giant hand separating her from us.

She was playing a stringed instrument that looked like a miniature harp. I listened, trying to catch the music, but the moment she strummed the strings, the wind caught up the sounds and tore them from earshot.

Who is she?

Ulean danced by, whispering as she passed. She is the Maiden of Knowledge. The Daughter of the Air.

Is she one of the Wilding Fae?

No, she is far more than that. She is…she simply is. This is but one of her avatars. Ulean softly rested on my shoulders, her susurration tickling my ears. You must answer her questions to pass. If not, she will rip you to shreds.

Answer her questions? What kind of questions?

I do not know. Whatever she chooses to ask.

I bit my lip. What the hell was I going to do now? I knew—as sure as I knew my own name—that there was no way to defeat this being. The Maiden of Knowledge was beyond fighting. I had the feeling that if I reached out to touch her, my fingers would slide through. But if she chose to go on the offense, her attacks would be all too physical.

How do I—

Do not ask me more. You must figure this one out by yourself, Cicely. It is forbidden for me to help you in this.

I sighed. Ulean would never deny me if it was possible for her to help, so I knew she was speaking the truth. I looked at the others and shook my head, then stepped forward. The Maiden of Knowledge looked up at me, her luminous eyes glittering in the dim light of the passage. I wondered how long she’d been sitting here. How long had she been keeping watch? Did she ever speak to anyone? Did anyone ever come to visit her? And would she ever be free?

Feeling unaccountably sad—her existence seemed so lonely—I moved forward to the point where the energy field stopped me. I cleared my throat. She watched me, unblinking, a soft light washing over her face.

What should I say? What should I do? And then a thought crept into my mind. She was waiting for me to speak. Perhaps, being the Maiden of Knowledge, she was here to give aid and advice.

“We come seeking passage. Will you help us?” My voice seemed out of place, and even though I was speaking softly, it echoed through the chamber as if I were shouting. I winced at its coarseness. Normally I didn’t notice my voice, but here, in this place, it sounded rough and harsh.

The Maiden of Knowledge paused, then she strummed her harp, and this time her voice came crashing through the air, so beautiful it made me want to weep and fall to my knees.

“What is it that you seek? Why do you wish me to grant you free passage?” Her words thundered through the air, and I realized that if the wind hadn’t caught up her singing, it might have deafened us with its force.

I stammered, taken back by the power of her presence. Suddenly frightened, and feeling like a bull in a china shop, I struggled for an answer that would suit her. “I am looking to help Lainule—the Queen of Rivers and Rushes. She is in danger. I come with her permission.”

“Why should I believe you?” Her gaze was now fastened on mine and I felt like she was probing my mind, turning me inside out, shaking out my innermost thoughts to examine them. She rifled through me, stripping away layers of an onion, searching. The feeling was heady and terrifying and intrusive.

I shook my head. “Because I am telling the truth. Because…I promised Lainule I would help her if at all possible.” That was the best I could think of—it was simple and it was the truth.

“What will you do if I refuse you?”

I stared at her, wanting to say we’d strike her down, but I knew that was a pipe dream. Or that we’d find another way in, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen and would be mere bluster. Finally I shrugged, feeling helpless.

“We will return home and fight Myst without the aid of Summer. We’ll fight until she takes us down. And most likely, we will die. Because we need Summer’s help to win against the Queen of the Indigo Court.”

The Maiden of Knowledge rose from her seat, and her gown fell in waves, a gossamer creation of spiderwebs and silk, of feathers and birds’ nests and the cotton of clouds. She approached the other side of her force field. I looked up at her—she was oh so tall, and oh so regal, and I began to realize that Ulean had been right. This was no Wilding Fae but a spirit caught in form, an energy that had never been human but only wore a beautiful face like a mask.

The Maiden of Knowledge slowly reached through the crackle of energy and held out her hand. I sucked in a deep breath.

Faith, I thought. This is where faith came in. I slowly reached out and rested my hand in hers. The feel was less that of skin and more of solidified air.

She wrapped her fingers around mine and then, with one smooth motion, drew me through the force field. I gasped as a thousand pins and needles stabbed me through. The Maiden of Knowledge laughed, but it was neither friendly nor comforting. Her gaze never left my face, and I found myself transfixed as she turned and led me behind the chair. There, against the wall, was the outline of a door.

“May I and my friends go through? Is this the path we need to take?” I was confused. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?

Again, she struck her harp. Again, her voice rang out and from this close, it reverberated through my head like a gong. “You were telling me the truth. This is the way. As to your friends…they put their lives in your hands. They may accompany you, if they so dare.” She stepped back and the field opened. The others filed in slowly. They looked drained, and I wondered what had happened.

The Maiden of Knowledge pointed to Kaylin. “First in line. Do you accept the responsibility? You are the scout, the tracker.”

He winced, rubbing his head, and stepped in front of me. “I do.”

She pointed to me next. “You are his second. You are the helmswoman, the conquerer. The results of this journey lie squarely on your shoulders and the choices you make. And you,” she said, motioning to Rhiannon, “are third. The lady-in-waiting. Do not ask what it is you wait for, you will find out soon enough.” Turning to Chatter, she said, “And you, guardian, are fourth.” And then she turned to Grieve. “The Wounded King. You follow last.”

Wounded King? What did that mean? Wondering at the labels she’d assigned to us, I kept my tongue. I was rapidly learning over the past few weeks that sometimes silence was the better part of wisdom. Grieve nodded and took his place.

The Maiden of Knowledge began to play her instrument and a swirl of sound echoed and vibrated through the walls. And then, slowly, the outline of a door turned to a sparkling veil. I couldn’t see what lay beyond, but a strange hum began to emanate from the passage. Kaylin looked back at me and without another word stepped forward into the shadows.

How long we were in the passage, it’s hard to tell. When we emerged, it was into a chamber as golden as the sunlight rippling through the trees at midday. The light was almost blinding. I shielded my eyes—the brilliance hurt and I winced, turning away. Grieve was doing the same, but the others just shaded their eyes. The chamber was so large it felt like we were truly outside rather than far under the ground.

“I feel like I’ve slept again.” I yawned, but my body felt revitalized, as if I’d been through both nap and shower.

“Me too. Look.” Rhiannon’s voice was hushed.

I turned and, squinting, followed her gaze. There in the center of the room was a plinth made of gnarled oak and ivy—real ivy. The ivy of the open woodland, not this alien forest of the deep caverns. The plinth rose about twenty feet into the air, and a spiral stair led up to a landing in back of it. Around the base, except at the start of the steps, a deep pit drove into the ground, so deep I could not see the bottom when I gazed into it. But it was wide enough to fall in, and I backed away, not wanting to lose my balance.

I stared at the staircase. “I have to go up there.” The pull was so strong that I couldn’t ignore it.

“Is that…” Rhia looked at me, wary.

“I think so.” The pulse of a beating heart drummed from within the column of oak and ivy, running straight down through the tree stump, into the earth below. This was the heart of Summer, the wellspring from whence she sprang. This was Lainule’s core, her essence.

The others waited, silent, as I began to ascend the stairs. Formed of green and gold glass, they were slick and spiraled around the trunk. There was no railing, and so I kept to the inside, leaning against the oak as I tried to avoid slipping. One misstep and I’d go over the side, and when I looked down, I realized I’d fall directly into the moat. To where that led, I chose not to speculate.

About a third of the way up, my foot slipped, and I scrambled, going down on my hands and knees with a jarring thud. Shaking, I struggled to stand and, after taking a deep breath, started again. The sound of my boots on the glass echoed through the chamber—the others remained silent, watching below. They couldn’t help me. I’d been entrusted with this task by Lainule. I was the only one who would be able to retrieve her heartstone.