“Of course, darling,” Leanansidhe said. “Just one tiny piece, written by you. With my help, of course.

“Please,” I mouthed, and Keirran sighed.

“That’s not all, Leanansidhe,” he said, releasing my arm and stepping forward. “You’re not telling her everything. She deserves to know the real price of your inspiration.”

“Keirran, darling,” Leanansidhe said, a definite note of irritation beneath the cheerful facade, “if I lose this deal because of you, I’m going to be very unhappy. And when I am unhappy, pet, everyone in my home is unhappy.” She glowered at Keirran, and the lights on the walls flickered. “I did you a favor by taking the Summer girl in, darling. Remember that.”

Keirran backed off, giving me a dark look, but it was enough. “What does he mean?” Kenzie asked as the Exile Queen huffed in frustration. “What’s the ‘real price’?”

“Nothing much, darling,” Leanansidhe soothed, switching tones as she turned back to the girl. “Just…in the terms of the contract, you will agree to forfeit a tiny bit of your life to me, in exchange for the inspiration. Not much, mind you,” she added, as Kenzie’s mouth dropped open. “A month or two, give or take. Of course, this is your natural lifespan only—it does not count for fatal accidents, sickness, disease or other untimely demises. But that is my offer for the Sight, my pet. It really is one of my more generous offers. What say you?”

No, I thought at Kenzie. Say no. That’s the only thing you can say to an offer like that.

“Sure,” Kenzie said immediately, and I gaped at her. “Why not? A month of my life, in exchange for a lifetime of seeing the fey?” She shrugged. “That’s not too bad, in the long run.”

What? Stunned, I could only stare at the girl in horror. Do you know what you just did? You gave away a month of your existence to a faery queen! You let her shorten your life for nothing.

Leanansidhe blinked. “Well,” she mused after a moment. “That was easy. How fortunate for me. Humans are usually extraordinarily attached to their lives, I’ve found. But, if that is your decision, then we have a deal, my pet. And I will get you the things you need to acquire the Sight.” She smiled, terribly pleased with herself, and looked at me and Keirran. If she saw how I was staring at Kenzie, dumbstruck, she didn’t comment. “I will fetch Annwyl to show you your rooms. Meet me here tomorrow, darlings, and we will discuss where you will go next. Until then, the mansion is yours.”

* * *

My voice finally returned a few hours later.

I hadn’t seen Annwyl or Keirran for a while, not since the Summer girl had brought us to Leanansidhe’s guest rooms and quickly vanished, saying she had work to do. Keirran didn’t wait very long before following her down the hall. Kenzie, I think, was avoiding me, for she disappeared into her room and didn’t answer the door when I knocked a few minutes later.

So I prowled the mansion, which was huge, wandering its endless corridors, hoping some exiled fey would try to pick a fight with me. Nobody did, leaving me to brood without any distractions.

Keirran. Meghan’s son…and my nephew, disturbing as that was. The whole situation was completely screwed up. I knew time flowed differently in Faery, but still. Keirran was my age, as were Meghan and Ash…

I shook my head, veering away from that train of thought. My family had just gotten a whole lot weirder. I wondered what Mom would say, if she knew about Keirran. She’d probably freak out.

Maybe that’s why Meghan didn’t tell us, I thought, glaring at a bogey crouched under a low shelf like a huge spider, daring it to do something. It took one look at me and vanished into the shadows. Maybe she knew Mom wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe she was scared of what I would think…but, no, that’s not an excuse! She still should’ve told us. That’s not something you can just hide away and hope no one finds out.

Meghan had a reason for not telling us about Keirran, and for trying to keep him away from us, as well. What was it? As far as I could tell, Keirran had no prejudice against humans; he was polite, soft-spoken, respectful. The complete opposite of me, I thought, rolling my eyes. Mom would absolutely love him. But Meghan never wanted us to meet, which seemed really odd for her, as well. What could possibly be so horrible that you would have a child and keep it a secret from the rest of your family?

What wasn’t she telling us about Keirran?

Voices drifted down the corridor from somewhere up ahead, the soft, garbled buzz of a conversation. I heard Annwyl’s lyrical tone through an archway at the end of the hall, and Keirran’s quiet voice echo it. Not wanting to disturb…whatever they were doing, I turned to leave, when Kenzie’s name filtered through the conversation and caught my attention.

Wary now, I crept down the corridor until it ended at a large, circular room filled with vegetation. An enormous tree loomed up from the center, extending gnarled branches skyward, which was easy because the room had no ceiling. Bright sunlight slanted through the leaves, spotting the carpet of grass and wildflowers surrounding the trunk. Birds twittered overhead and butterflies danced through the flowers, adding to the dazzling array of color and light.

It wasn’t real, of course. Leanansidhe’s mansion, according to rumors, existed in a place called the Between, the veil that separated Faery from the mortal world. Supposedly, when using a trod, you passed very briefly through the Between, then into the other realm. How Leanansidhe managed to set up an entire mansion in the space between worlds was baffling, something you just shouldn’t wonder about. No one knew what the outside of the mansion looked like, but I was pretty sure it didn’t have sunlight and birdsong. This room was all faery glamour. A really good illusion—I could smell the wildflowers, hear the bees buzzing past my ear and feel the warmth of the sun—but an illusion nonetheless. I hadn’t come here to smell the flowers, I was here to discover why two faeries were talking about Kenzie.

Keirran sat beneath the trunk, one knee drawn up to his chest, watching Annwyl as she moved gracefully through the flowers. Every so often, the Summer faery would pause, brushing her fingers over a petal or fern, and the plant would immediately straighten, unfurling new and brighter leaves. Butterflies danced around her, perching on her hair and clothes, as if she was an enormous blossom drifting through the field.

I eased closer, skirting the edges of the room, keeping a row of giant ferns between myself and the two fey. Peering through the fronds, feeling slightly ridiculous that I would stoop this low, I strained my ears in the direction of the tree.

“Leanansidhe wants the ceremony done tonight,” Annwyl was saying, raising an arm to touch a low-hanging branch. It stirred, and several withered leaves grew full and green again. “I think it would be better if you performed the ritual, Keirran. She knows you, and the boy might object if I go anywhere near her.”

“I know.” Keirran exhaled, resting his chin on his knee. “I just hope Ethan doesn’t hate me for my part in giving Kenzie the Sight. He’s probably still reeling from that last load of bricks I dropped on his head.”

“You mean that you’re his nephew?” Annwyl asked mildly, and my gut twisted. I still wasn’t used to the idea. “But, surely he understands how time works in both worlds. He had to realize that his sister would start her own family, even if she wasn’t in the mortal realm, right?”

“How could he?” Keirran muttered. “She never told him. She never told me.” He sighed again, and though I couldn’t see his face very well, his tone was morose, almost angry. “She’s hiding something, Annwyl. I think they all are. Oberon, Titania, Mab—they all know something. And no one will tell me what it is.” His voice lowered, frustrated and confused. “Why don’t they trust me?”

Annwyl turned, giving him a strange look. Snapping a twig from the nearest branch, she knelt in front of Keirran and held up the stick. “Here. Take this for a moment.”

Looking bewildered, Keirran did.

“Do what I was doing just now,” she ordered. “Make it grow.”

His brow furrowed, but he shrugged and glanced down at the bare stick. It shivered, and tiny buds appeared along the length of the wood, before unfurling into leaves. A butterfly floated down from Annwyl’s hair to perch on the end.

“Now, kill it,” Annwyl said.

She received another puzzled look, but a second later frost crept over the leaves, turning them black, before the entire twig was coated in ice. The butterfly dropped away and spiraled toward the ground, lifeless in an instant. Annwyl flicked the branch with her fingers, and it snapped, one half of the stick spinning away into the flowers.

“Do you see what I’m getting at, Prince Keirran?”

He hung his head. “Yes.”

“You’re the Iron prince,” Annwyl went on in a gentle voice. “But you’re not simply an Iron faery. You have the glamour of all three courts and can use them seamlessly, without fail. No one else in Faery has that ability, not even the Iron Queen.” She put a hand on his knee, and he looked down at it. “They fear you, Keirran. They’re afraid of what you can become, what your existence might mean for them. It’s the nature of the courts, sadly. They don’t react well to change.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Keirran asked, his voice nearly lost in the sighing leaves.

“No.” Annwyl pulled her hand away and rose, gazing down at him. “Not when you were kind to me, and risked so much to bring me here. But I know the courts far better than you do, Keirran. I was just a humble servant to Titania, but you are the Iron prince.” She took a step back, her voice mournful but resolved. “I know my place. I will not drag you into exile with me.”

As Annwyl turned away, Keirran rose swiftly, not touching her but very close. “I’m not afraid of exile,” he said quietly, and the Summer girl closed her eyes. “And I don’t care what the courts say. My own parents defied those laws, and look where they are now.” His hand rose, gently brushing her braid, causing several butterflies to flit skyward. “I would do the same for you, if you just gave me the chance—”