Ren swatted angrily at the group of tree sprites buzzing around his head. They’d been plaguing him since he’d left his horse, taking turns diving toward his head and yanking on his hair. When one of them was successful, they would all let out celebratory, high-pitched squeaks.

The swat didn't seem to faze them because another one was preparing to dive for his face. This time, he would be ready.

Ren was so focused on avoiding the little winged creature, he failed to notice the low-hanging branch before it was too late. Every curse word he knew came roaring out of his mouth as pain flared in his head.

The sprites abruptly scattered.

He should have started cursing earlier if that was what it took to get them to leave him alone. Gently, Ren probed his forehead, checking for damage. Good news, it wasn't bleeding. Bad news, he felt a pebble-sized lump where the branch had made contact.

"Stupid sprites," he muttered to himself, dropping his hand.

Then he noticed the girl—or rather, the faery—watching him.

"Have you come to play a game?" the emaciated-looking faery asked. She’d appeared directly in his path as if out of thin air. Ren hadn't even heard her walk up, but then again, the sprites had kept him plenty distracted.

"No," Ren said. "I'm not here to play games."

Her oddly slitted eyes filled with annoyance. "No one wants to play anymore. The other two didn't want to play either." She crossed her bony arms over her chest, sticking out her lower lip in a pout. He was sure at any second she would stamp her foot like a spoiled child who wasn't getting her way. He didn't have time for faery temper tantrums.

"I need to speak with the Summer King," he told her. "I’m not here to play games with children." Then her words sunk in. "Wait a minute. Did you say other two? Who else has been here?" It must have been Seraiah and Kestrel, but on the off-chance it was someone else, it could be valuable information.

"Who’re you calling a child, human?" she hissed, looking up at him between the strands of her pale green hair. "Out of the two of us, you are by far the younger." She completely ignored his questions about the visitors.

"My apologies . . ." Ren waited for her to fill in her name.

"Maescia."

"Maescia," he said, in the nicest voice he could manage, "what can you tell me about the other two visitors you mentioned?"

The faery girl tilted her head, studying him. The anger in her eyes faded, replaced by a predatory gleam. "Will you play a game for the answer?"

"No. Forget it. I've already said I'm not here to play games." The information was not worth being trapped. It was not the reason he’d come here.

"How about a name, then?" she asked, undeterred. "I gave you mine. You give me yours."

Not a fair trade either. Who knows what she could—or would—do with his name. If he gave it away now, it would mean one less thing to bargain with later should he have need of it.

"No one you should concern yourself with,” he answered. “As I said before, I am here to see the Summer King. I have business with him."

The glare returned. "I know everyone who has business with my King, and you are not one of them. You would do well to answer my questions, human, if you ever wish to speak with him."

He’d have thought she was lying if he hadn’t already known faeries couldn’t lie. This child was the Seelie King’s gatekeeper? Perhaps Ren had been wrong about his involvement with Gavaran if this was who he left in charge of scaring away unwanted visitors.

“The name, human,” she tapped her foot, “or you will have no audience.”

"Fine. My name is Ren. Happy?" With any luck, she could do nothing with a shortened name.

Maescia grinned, and he wished she hadn’t, for it revealed a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. "Follow me and you shall see the King." She whirled around, diaphanous skirt flaring out, and disappeared through the trees as quietly as she’d come.

Ren stared after her, contemplating the likelihood that she was leading him into a trap. The tree sprites had disappeared the minute Maescia had shown up. Maybe they knew something he didn't.

"Hurry, hurry, human," Maescia called from somewhere out of sight.

Ren flexed his hands. He always had the undead to help him if necessary. With that comforting thought, he set out after her.

The faery girl led him deeper into the Seelie Court's territory. They left the trees behind and wove in and out between empty, crumbling buildings. He’d heard a rumor the Seelie Court called the ancient ruins of a race long dead home, but he’d thought it was false. It appeared he had been wrong.

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At long last, they entered an open courtyard at what Ren guessed was the center of the ruins. Unlike the buildings around them, the courtyard was far from empty. What had to be the entirety of the Court was crowded into the space, swaying to a haunting melody. Round and round they twirled, paying no attention to him or Maescia.

The longer they stood there at the edge of the crowd, the more the music pulled at him, urging him to join them. He didn't even like dancing, but his body swayed ever so slightly to the beat.

A faery girl with canine teeth that protruded over her bottom lip wandered over and held out a tray of drinks to him. Involuntarily, he reached for one of the glasses. When Ren realized what was happening, he snatched his hand back.

"No, thank you," he told the girl through gritted teeth. It was taking all his self-control to keep his hand by his side.

She smiled before wandering away to offer her tray to someone else.

"The Summer King awaits," Maescia said as soon as the other fairy was out of sight. She lifted a finger and pointed to the raised dais at the very center of the dancing crowd. "May you receive better news than the seer did."

"What?" Ren's head snapped around to look at Maescia. "When was she here? Was she one of the guests you mentioned? What news did she receive?" He was tempted to pull on the mark to find Seraiah, but he’d promised her he wouldn't.

Maescia lifted her bony shoulders. "Was it yesterday? Or two months ago? It all seems the same to me. As for the news, I cannot say, but perhaps if you play a game, my King will tell you." She flashed another toothy smile.

Ren growled at the lack of answers and stalked into the crowd of dancers, leaving Maescia behind. He had his own questions for the Summer King. When next he met the seer and her elf friend, they could tell him what they’d learned themselves. If it was information on Sterling and her shadows, they could compare answers. The faeries may not lie, but they could leave out the whole truth, especially if you didn’t know the right questions to ask.

When Ren reached the foot of the dais, the Summer King cast a lazy glance in his direction. He lounged on his throne with his legs thrown over one arm, perfectly at ease.

"My," he commented. "I haven't had this many human visitors in centuries. What can I do for you, necromancer or rather," he swung his legs down to the ground, sending a wave of heat over Ren, "what can you do for me?"

The brush of heat reminded Ren of a summer’s day, and for a moment, he could have sworn he smelled the scents of Daralis as it baked under the hot sun. The taste of lemon ice, his favorite treat from childhood, filled his mouth, and the laughter of his siblings rang in his ears.

As fast as the memory had come, it was gone, and he was once again standing before the faery king.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"How did I know what?" The look the Seelie King gave him said he knew exactly what Ren was asking.

"You called me a necromancer."

"Is that what you came all this way to find out? Careful about how many questions you ask. I do require payment for answers, but I'll give you this one for free." The Summer King pointed to Ren's gloved hands at his sides. "Those hide nothing. They can't conceal the shadows that creep a little further every time you raise the dead. I could feel their oily pulse the moment you entered my territory. Also, you reek of corpse." The Summer King wrinkled his nose.

Ren resisted the urge to sniff himself. He hadn’t raised the dead since the Cave of Faces and had bathed many times since then. Besides, no one else had ever told him he’d smelled before. Then again, no one else had been able to sense the shadows either. Maybe it wasn’t the dead he’d raised that the Summer King smelled on him, but rather Ren’s own impending death. Could it be a hint about the shadows? Would he succumb to them soon?

"What did you really come here to know and be quick about it. Time is very precious, and I do hate to have my time wasted." He grinned at his own joke. Being immortal, the Summer King had all the time in the world.

Ren was tempted to ask the Summer King about his own shadows, but no, that wasn’t the reason he’d come here. He’d come for Sterling. Whatever answer the Summer King gave, it might not help her. Besides, if Seraiah had been here, she could have asked about Sterling’s shadows already. She would not, however, have known to ask about Gavaran and the potion. If he could only pay for one answer, it would have to be about that.

"Did you create a potion for Gavaran to use on the rightful Elven queen?"

The Summer King's face twisted, but Ren wasn’t sure what to make of the expression. Was it disgust? Anger? Something else?

"I'll make you a deal," the Summer King said, leaning toward Ren. "You tell me what led you to ask this question, and I will answer it."

Ren thought about it for a moment. If there was a trap here, he couldn’t see it, and yet it felt too simple. That made him nervous.

“This is the only deal I will offer,” the Summer King added.

He had no choice then. If he wanted this answer, he had to go through with it, trap or not. "Fine," he said. “I accept.”

Ren outlined the situation, giving the bare minimum of details while the Summer King listened, his eyes turned to the sky.

"Interesting. Very interesting," the faery said after Ren had finished. "Now, I will uphold my end of the agreement. No, I did not make a potion for the imposter Elven king, but I may know who did."

"Who?" Ren cursed himself the second the question was out. It was probably not a good idea to let the Summer King know how much he wanted this answer.

"Are you friends with the seer who came to see me?"

"Yes,” he said. Ren was sure Seraiah would disagree, but to him, allies might as well mean the same thing as friends.

“Surprising, given the stain you left on her.” The Summer King’s gaze flicked to Ren’s hands again.

Ren clenched them into fists, but didn’t hide them from view. "What does she have to do with who made the potion? Does she know who made it?"

"Not yet, but she will.”

Before Ren could ask what that was supposed to mean, the Summer King spoke again. “Now, I think we are done here, unless you’re interested in playing a little game. I would make it fun."

Ren did not believe for a second that he would find any game the Summer King suggested to be fun. “No, thank you. That will be all.”

He retreated into the crowd of dancing faeries, his thoughts racing. The Summer King had said Seraiah would know who had made the potion Sterling had taken, but she didn’t know yet. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that. Time meant little to the faeries. It might be years before Seraiah learned of this person. The fastest way to solve this would be to meet with Seraiah and find out what she had learned from the Summer King. They could figure this out together.

The only problem was that Ren did not know where Seraiah currently was. She might not even be in this world at the moment. The easiest way to locate her would be to use the mark. However, if he did, she might not forgive him.

He’d have to think of another way.

"Human," a voice called out to him.

Ren glanced up, startled to find Maescia once again in his path. "For the last time, I don't want to play—"

She cut him off. "Yes, you made that clear. I simply wanted to offer you my help."

"Your help?" he repeated, brows rising.

Maescia smiled. "Check your pockets."