The scent of roses and blood filled the clearing housing the Dark Queen’s court. The queen waited upon her throne of knotted midnight, her sharp nails shredding the curling, dark vines beneath one hand. As though alive, the throne shivered in protest.

Behind the throne, a willowy creature with mossy hair played upon a flute, accompanied by the slow, solemn beats of a gnarled drummer, the pulse filling the spaces between the air. Waiting.

An eerie light filled the sky, and the queen lifted her head. She slashed her hand across the darkness and the mournful music stopped, letting the sound of hounds and hooves penetrate the night. The Wild Hunt had returned.

The clearing filled, the sinuous bodies of the hounds flowing like black water, the red-eyed horses lathered and snorting. And riding majestic, the Huntsman.

“Where is my prize?” the queen asked, in a voice boding thunderstorms.

“My lady.” The Huntsman dismounted and bowed, so low his antlered helm brushed the carpet of moss. “We cannot break through to the mortal world. The chink has been sealed.”

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“What?” The Dark Queen’s voice cracked through the night, a whip felt across the breadth of her Realm. A killing frost swept the air, and the moss shriveled, flecked with diamonds of cold. The Huntsman did not straighten.

“We could not make our way into the places humans inhabit. The girl is lost to us.”

“I will not allow it. Our salvation lies within reach—and I will not let it slip away.” The queen rose, her pale face promising doom to any who met her eyes. “Watch for the mortal girl’s presence. The moment a trace of her is felt, come to me.”

“As you command.”

The Huntsman, wise to the ways of his liege, backed away slowly, never once looking upon the queen’s beautiful, terrible face.

The queen drew forth from the starry depths of her gown her long black thorn, honed to a killing point. Her fingers caressed it, moon-white against its darkness.

All protections against the Realm of Faerie eventually failed—and this one had to have been hastily made, at best. The human world would open again to them, soon.

“MeadowRue,” the queen said, beckoning to one of her handmaidens.

She would set a trap, while they waited. One that the human girl could not escape. The mortal would return and blunder into the queen’s snares.

And when she did, the Realm would take what was necessary.