I awoke to the sound of hurriedly whispered voices.

"The man's got no face!"

Don't be ridiculous; he's just facing away from you."

"I tell you, there's no other side. You can't get around him!"

"Just pick her up! We need to get out of here."

I vaguely recognised most of the speakers, and if - as it sounded like - there was an escape, I was up for it. Provided, of course, I could move without my whole world falling apart.

Tentatively, I opened both of my eyes and was pleased to be rewarded with no white-hot burn of agony. I wriggled my fingers and toes and was likewise satisfied that my torture appeared to be over.

For now, my dear.

Cheers, mate. What would I do without your help and counsel? Glancing inside my Artist's Studio, I could see there was a decent stock of high-density Qi hanging around, so I - slowly - started cycling around my channels again. Everything was a bit sore - think more 'enthusiastic' new partner than epic cystitis - but nothing like I remembered the aftermath of absorbing Voltigern's Dragon. Nor my error with the mana stones. Or when Aurelius took me out to the woodshed.

Fuck me, I get battered on a regular basis, don't I? I might want to do something like that.

Interestingly, I thought the damage caused by that latest escapade was probably greater than any of those other events. I was just a tougher gal now. And that thought made me feel pretty decent.

I sat up and noticed three major things all at once.

First, I stank. Like proper reeked. I was rocking a lovely mix of a couple of days of total body sweat, vomit, blood and . . . various other things I appeared to have excreted from my body when trying to deal with the poison. I had just gone through a pretty seismic detox procedure.

This led to the second important thing. I felt pretty amazing. I mean, I was already feeling chipper since crossing the boundary into Harry, but this was how I imagine it felt for all those glamorous women on TV when they step out of a costly spa. Although I was willing to concede, they probably did so without being caked in all their own fluids.

I imagined Gwyneth Paltrow would probably market the shit - literally - out of my pills.

Everything felt better. I'd once sat through a PE lesson where the idea of 'fast-twitch fibres' had been explained. I felt like everything I had was now built like that. At first, I thought it was just the difference from feeling so terrible, but no. It was like I'd taken another leap forward.

It almost made me want to take another pill.

Almost.

How are you feeling, my dear?

"Dude, I feel amazing. Will something like that happen each time?"

I am afraid not. As with all things, the law of diminishing returns applies. You have gone through a significant trauma, and your physical capabilities have improved commensurately.

Your next pill will have to fight against that improvement to cause damage, meaning the opportunity to develop will be much reduced. I imagine you will need to consume three or four next time to have anything like the same effect. After that, you'll need a couple of handfuls and then . . . Well, we'll need to find something else to temper you. A cultivator's search for ways to cause themselves infinite pain is never at an end. However, can I draw your attention to a slightly more pressing issue . . .

That leads to the third important thing I realised when I woke up: I wasn't in my cell anymore.

*

It had been reasonably easy to achieve the first stage of the escape.

Of course, Tresaith recognised this was because none of the Council had anticipated one of their own freeing the humans. All of the previous escape attempts had involved lots of noise, fire, and general hubbub, which alerted the nearest Fae that something was up.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

So, his simply and quietly encouraging the roots to retract into the ground was not the sort of thing that was likely to draw attention. He'd managed to gather the entire human army into decent order, ready to flee before it became clear nobody could wake their wizard.

Or, more accurately, no one could get close enough to their wizard to move her.

"Interesting," he said as the mist rolled towards him, seemingly coming from the human figure looking in the opposite direction. "And he moves to intercept any attempt to approach her?"

Arthur grimaced. Now hardly seemed like the time for a lengthy discussion about the oddities connected to his wizard. He realised it took a lot to get a Fae's blood pressure raised, but he couldn't easily relax when so close to powerful people who'd encaged them and were obviously planning to do away with them. "It's some shield spell, I think. She did something similar to my cloak."

Tresaith walked cautiously towards the wizard, and the man with the stick somehow moved between them. The Fae backed up and then darted to the left, and the faceless man was there again. "This is a quite lovely piece of Water Qi working."

"Glad you're impressed. Can't you just pick the bitch up and get us out of here?"

Tresaith carried out the odd pantomime all the Fae did whenever Beric spoke: frowning and looking around as if he's heard someone fart in church, but couldn't quite pinpoint who.

Arthur pressed the issue. "It's only a matter of time before one of your people's guards realises we're free. Is there nothing you can do to break the spell so we can leave?"

The Fae was looking at Morgan with an odd, faraway expression. "Of course. I said it was lovely work, not that it was resilient. It is such as one of our young children would cast to entertain its grandmother." Mark snorted at that, and Tresaith turned to him. "Which is to say it is a demonstration of power I have not seen from one of your people for many a long year. She is quite the find, your wizard."

"Ah, stop it. You'll make me blush."

And the wizard sat up, dismissing her shield spell.

*

I couldn't help but feel that escapes should have a touch more jeopardy about them. As far as I could tell, Tresaith had decided to save us, dissolved our cages and was walking the whole army out of the glade with literally no fanfare. I'd been on school trips that needed more detailed risk assessments.

We'd met up with the rest of those who had been trapped and were following a dirt path down and away from the centre of the Fae land. Corys's men had kicked up a bit of a fuss about leaving their king behind, but considering he'd fucked off to - well, yes. Literally - there was a general sense he could find his own way home.

"He will not be harmed. He has the favour of Allavan, and when she tires of him, she will not allow the Council to harm him. I imagine she will return him somewhere safe in your own realm."

"And I awoke, and found me here

On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing." I said, quoting a nice little bit of Keats.

Tresaith looked at me and winked. "Something like that."

Arthur swung himself onto Llameri's back, his dragon cloak billowing in the air. Lancelot was at his side, and I noticed the other kings had fallen behind him. It was a subtle but important moment no one was talking about.

They're nearly there, my dear. They see him as their leader. Apart from the Big M, of course.

The king looked down at Tresaith, who seemed far happier being on foot. "What now? I thank you for freeing us, but what does that mean for you? Will there be repercussions for what you have done today?"

Tresaith shrugged. "A central tenet of my people is that we must always be true to what we think is right in the moment. Most of us felt Murrayin's decision was an error and that breaking our guest rite was unacceptable. However, she is head of the Council and made the decision honestly. I can disagree with her, but I do not blame her for her judgment. The seers have foretold great turbulence caused by allowing you to go free."

"So there will be no danger to you, lad?" Owain had ridden forward to listen.

Tresaith smiled. "I think most will be relieved. The Fae do not wantonly slaughter humans. We can barely raise ourselves to combat goblins. There will be some gnashing of teeth at my presumption. A war party may even be sent after you. But for me? No. Nothing."

"A war party?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"Do not worry, little wizard. I will deal with that. In fact," Tresaith said, looking at where the track we were on split in two, I think we're at the end of our shared journey."

"What do you mean?" I said, a touch disappointed. I was still thinking about that wink . . .

Tresaith pointed down one path. "If you follow that way, you will quickly return to your human realm. I am not that familiar with your geography, but there is a large river with settlements along it."

"Saxon or British settlements?" I could tell Arthur was tempted. The quest had taken its toll on our numbers. There would be attraction in reequipping and refreshing in safety.

Tresaith shrugged. "You all look the same to me."

"And in the other direction?" Lancelot had already started walking down that way.

"Well, there is a legend in my people that if a trustworthy man takes that road, he will find exactly what he deserves in the pool at the end of the track."

Now we were talking. Although thinking about it, I wasn't wild about the semantics there. "And should an untrustworthy man walk that path?"

"Ah," Tresaith's teeth flashed very white. "That man will get what he deserves, too."

Arthur leant down to clasp Tresaith's forearm in the manly way men do when they're saying thanks for manly things. "What has made you help us, Lord Fae?"

"Let us just say, human, that I appear to have found faith that this is the right decision."

And there was more of that bloody choral music.

Our army set off down the road less travelled.