The small wisdom is like water in a glass: clear, transparent, and pure.

Rabindranath Tagore

Arjun carried an unconscious Pippa in his arms as he followed the armed goblins through a back entrance of the Ice Palace of Kur, its blue turrets chiming in an icy breeze.

One of the goblin guards poked and prodded at the hem of Pippa’s tattered wedding garments, grunting to his compatriots in a language Arjun could not understand. Two of the other goblins chortled in response.

Whatever they were saying was likely not a compliment.

“Watch it, you grubby twat,” Arjun said the next time the same goblin poked at Pippa’s dangling foot. In the distance, he caught strains of discordant music and the occasional bellow of a mournful beast. They continued walking down darkened hallways of solid ice toward the ruckus. Toward the same Great Hall Arjun, Celine, and Bastien had last encountered in their recent audience with its ill-tempered king. The same diminutive regent to whom Arjun owed six mortal weeks of service—a promise he’d made to keep them from being thrown to a passel of flesh-eating demons.

Blast it all. Of course the fiendish little monarch would choose now to call due his promise.

Weariness tugged at Arjun’s brow. His heart ached with the weight of so many failures. He’d failed in his promise to find a healer for Odette. He’d failed to send Pippa home safely. Failed to put a stop to their wedding. Then he’d even failed to ensure his new wife would never again go to bed hungry.

In all his life, Arjun could not remember failing so spectacularly.

With a grimace, Arjun straightened his shoulders. Cradled Pippa closer, his hold on her tightening with resolve. Now was not the time to wallow in doubt and self-pity.

They neared the entrance to the Great Hall, its iron double doors—blasted through on one side and hanging by a thread on the other—still frozen in place. Once their party darkened the threshold, Arjun caught sight of the same kind of riotous feast he’d witnessed on the last occasion. Immense glasswing butterflies and iridescent beetles the size of his head fluttered among the dangling ice chandeliers in the coved ceiling, and creatures with all manner of dripping fangs and hooked talons and bristled tailbones gathered on three sides of the room, gnashing at bloodied bones and tossing their half-eaten meals to the side in favor of the next steaming course.

The smell of carnage and entrails—of charred meat and blackened bones—almost caused Arjun to retch.

“Wait here,” croaked the goblin flanking Arjun. He made his way to the dais at the opposite end of the room, upon which the king of the dwarves sat, enjoying his flagon of dark green wine.

Pippa stirred in Arjun’s arms, her long eyelashes fluttering.

“Perfect,” Arjun grumbled. With care he set her on her feet, pulling her close so he could speak in her ear.

“Don’t startle, love,” he whispered. “All manner of beasts are around us. I’d wager you’ve never seen their like before. If you yell or carry on, you’ll draw undue attention.” He paused to wrap his jacket tighter around her, and again recalled the story of Draupadi. Well, he certainly wasn’t Krishna, though the thought of bloody retribution did give him immense joy.

Her lashes fluttered once more. “It smells like a barn,” she grumbled. “And . . . old ha’pennies.”

“A barn would offer a far more pleasant holiday than this.”

When her eyes flashed open, Arjun was again taken aback. The blue in them appeared even more vivid—more alive—in the depths of the Ice Palace. The cool light of the crystalline walls reflected back at Arjun as he stared into Pippa’s face, willing her to remain calm. He’d been on the receiving end of her temper more than once, and he was certain the snaggle-toothed ogre to their right wouldn’t appreciate its fire quite as much as he had.

“Are there monsters?” she asked, her lips cracked.

“Always,” he replied, drawn to her like a bee to nectar. “No matter where you are. These just happen to be a bit more monstrous.”

“Will they hurt us?”

“I won’t let them.”

“If you’re wrong, I’ll box your ears.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll submit. Willingly.”

Pippa straightened. She looked around. Arjun felt her shift against him, her motions unsteady. He moved his hand to the small of her back and felt her shiver.

“Arjun,” she whispered, her eyes round.

A gargantuan creature resembling an unholy union between a bear and walrus stood on its hind end and bellowed, droplets of its saliva shooting through the air, raining down around them. Its cry sent the nearby beasts into a frenzy. Another creature with laughter like that of a hyena screeched with glee, its nails scraping across the wooden table as it reached for a mangled bone.

“Look at me, meri pyaari,” Arjun said to Pippa when he heard her breath hitch as if she were on the cusp of a scream. “Tell me about the pirate woman. Chang Shih was her name, was it not?”

“I can’t—remember.”

“Then tell me about the penguins.”

She met his gaze and held it, her eyes tremulous. “They mate for life.”

“Foolish flightless birds.” Arjun shifted his other hand to the side of her neck, waiting for her pulse to steady, his thumb caressing her jaw in a sad attempt to soothe her. If he distracted her with facts, perhaps she would not succumb to fear. And if that did not work, he knew how to make her angry. In a short time, he’d become an expert. Anger, Arjun had learned, was a powerful force when wielded in the hands of Philippa Montrose.

“It’s romantic.” A furrow gathered above her nose.

“I think it’s sad.”

“That makes me sad for you,” she said as she mirrored his gesture and pressed her palm to his cheek.

Arjun didn’t know when her touch had become a balm to his nerves. He closed his eyes and grinned. For an instant, he allowed himself to forget . . . everything.

Booming laughter echoed from the other end of the room. It grew until all the creatures around it fell to silence. Pippa and Arjun turned toward the sound, though Arjun tucked Pippa behind him, each clinging to the other. Under normal circumstances, Arjun would have found the idea of him clinging to anyone amusing. A tad pathetic. But he didn’t have time to think about it. Nor did he have time to ponder how right it felt.

“You!” the dwarf king bellowed. “Son of Riya!”

Arjun offered him a half bow and a snide smile. “You called, Your Majesty?”

The king snorted. “You thought you could come back to the land of the dark fey and evade the terms of your promise?”

“Of course not,” Arjun replied, his tone blithe. “I had every intention of coming to see you as soon as I put my affairs in order.”

“A likely story,” the king chortled. He tilted his head to one side like a vulture lurking on a branch, awaiting the death of its prey. “Who is the pretty little morsel you’ve brought with you?” He sniffed, as if trying to divine her scent through the stench of the Great Hall.

“Oh, forgive my rudeness.” Arjun grinned. “I’d like to introduce you to—”

“A mortal?” the king said as recognition dawned on him. “A mortal morsel?” He laughed again, the sound maniacal. “You’ve brought me a tribute! I accept. She looks delicious.”

A creature resembling a tiny dragon squawked, and the bear-like walrus bellowed once more, its tusks gleaming like newly honed knives.

“I do apologize.” Arjun’s smile sharpened. “But she is not a tribute. I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Philippa Desai.” His expression turned cold. “As such”—he raised his voice—“she is mine, and I am hers. If a hair on her head is touched out of turn, my mother and I will consider it the gravest insult.” Arjun let his words ring through the cavernous chamber of ice and monsters. He disliked having to play the hero. Disliked the responsibility. But he would not allow any harm to come to Pippa. She was the only wife he would ever have in this immortal life, and if he couldn’t keep her safe, then he would have failed in every way that should matter.

Should. An interesting word. Yesterday, Pippa had simply been a girl Arjun knew. One whom he had encountered on a handful of occasions. At least twice before, Arjun had enjoyed her company. Found her enchanting. She was smart, witty, and loyal. But more than that, Arjun had thought her kind. Kindness was, as his father always said, the one thing that distinguished a good man from a bad one. Arjun didn’t know if he believed that, but he never ignored the wisdom of his father.

Kindness had been in short supply after Arjun’s mother had brought him to the Sylvan Vale as a young boy. The least Arjun owed his young wife was the kindness of his consideration.

“Hmmmm,” the king said. He shifted from his seat and pushed away from the table’s sagging center. Step by step, he made his way down the dais as if he meant to take his time.

Finally he came to stand before them.

“You married a mortal?” the king said in a guttural voice. “Does your mama know?”

Arjun nodded.

The king snorted. Then began to laugh. It started as a quiet rumble before growing to a guffaw. He held his stomach and doubled over with laughter, pausing to slap his knee as if he’d heard the most amusing story in the world.

Soon the rest of the beasts and beings in the Great Hall joined in, and the ice chandeliers hanging above quaked from the reverberations, the crystals tinkling. At least one or two of them crashed to the floor, exploding in a thousand tiny pieces, sending unfortunate souls in its path scurrying.

“Very well!” the king said through the laughter. “If you wish to subject your new bride to the terrors of the Sylvan Wyld, I will not stop you. But make no mistake, your service is to this court for a period of no less than six weeks.”

“Six mortal weeks,” Arjun corrected.

“What drivel?” The laughter died on the dwarf king’s brow as fury mottled his skin.

“That was the promise I made,” Arjun replied, his tone breezy. “Six mortal weeks of service, which I believe is about five or six—no more than seven—days in the Wyld.”

The king narrowed his eyes at Arjun, then paced toward the bear walrus, who continued gnawing on an old bone and watching his regent with rapt attention, as if the creature were waiting for permission to be unleashed.

All at once the king whirled on Arjun. “You damnable summer fey!” he roared.

The remaining laughter faded in an instant.

“How dare you try to trick me,” he raged. “I did you a favor because you were General Riya’s son. I did not allow my ice sabers to tear you limb from limb for trespassing, and this is how you repay me?”

The crowd around him began to grumble, their agitation palpable. Arjun shielded Pippa with his body and held up a hand in an attempt to stay the regent’s ire. “I did not try to deceive—”

“Silence!”

The clanging of weapons being raised was followed by the hiss of swords tearing from their scabbards. Bloodlust emanated through the room, like the low hum of an approaching swarm.

The king paced forward again, a short sword made of iron swinging from his right hand. “I will be the one to decide—”

The bear walrus yanked him off his kingly feet with a single swipe of a claw and tossed the bellowing monarch into its open mouth. The crunch of bones against teeth reverberated throughout the chamber. A single bloody thumb careened through the air, landing with a sickening splat a stone’s throw from Arjun’s feet.

A blood-curdling scream tore from Pippa’s lips. Then the creatures of the court began fighting in earnest, as if a cannonball had exploded nearby or a gun had been fired toward the ceiling. All Hell seemed to untether, iron weapons and meaty fists clanging in the familiar symphony of battle. Above them, tiny pale blue orbs of ice popped in place, as if disappearing.

Arjun spun around, caging Pippa in his arms. They stumbled over the body of a creature with a snout like a pig and horns like a satyr, and Pippa yelled, falling forward onto the frozen floor. Her cheek brushed across newly spilled blood. When it dripped toward her eyes, another shriek of horror flew from her lips. Arjun reached for her, only to be knocked to his knees, one of his hands landing on her breast.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, shoving him away.

“Trying to save you,” he shot back.

“Try less.” She scrambled to her feet, blood staining her shredded wedding garment. Arjun searched the floor for a weapon, taking hold of a crudely fashioned hatchet. When he turned around, he saw Pippa holding a dented shield and the small sword of a fallen goblin, its blade wavy and misshapen.

Arjun sputtered. “And what do you think that is going to—”

With dizzying speed, Pippa parried a blow from a spear aimed at Arjun’s side. Then, before he had a chance to react, she pivoted in place and deflected the downward arc of another iron blade, her movements lithe and practiced, like those of a dancer. Sparks rained around them when metal struck metal.

An incensed creature with fangs like a vampire and a long thin face tinted a green hue snarled at Pippa, and Arjun lunged into its path. It feinted left, attempting to sidestep Arjun on its way to disarm Pippa.

Arjun grabbed the creature by its filthy collar and dragged it close. It smelled of meat and blood and frost, its fangs gnashing together. The creature shoved back at Arjun, its broken nails catching him just beneath the chin. Arjun was certain it had managed to draw blood, but the heat of battle flowed through his veins, so he felt nothing but deep satisfaction when he pressed his bare palm to the hollowed-out cheek of the fanged monster. Up close like this, Arjun saw small rows of iridescent scales along the creature’s hairline. He curled his fingers into its thin skin and sent the magic pulsing through his touch.

The creature took a moment to react. But Arjun watched its expression slacken with surprise as the blood iced in its veins. Its body stiffened, settling into stillness. Arjun shoved it aside with a wicked smirk. When it struck the floor, the creature cracked and shattered into pieces, like a crystal vase.

Arjun staggered back, his mouth agape. Pippa leapt to the side with a cry.

“That’s . . . new,” he said, incredulous. Arjun had never in his short life frozen the water in something and witnessed it splinter into glasslike shards before his eyes.

When the beasts and goblins and winged creatures nearby realized what Arjun had done, they turned on him. Surrounded him. Snarled with barely checked rage.

“Now you’ve done it, son of Riya.” A beast resembling a centaur, with legs like a horse and the torso of a man, emerged at the edge of the crowd, his right eye swollen shut and both fists bloody. “There’s no one here to stop them from tearing the flesh straight off your body and licking your bones clean.”

His pulse thrumming in his temples, Arjun struggled to keep his face calm. “Pippa,” he said under his breath. He’d meant for her to stand in his shadow, so that he might—at the very least—spare her from the worst of their ire. But instead she positioned herself so that her back was to his. So that she was defending him every bit as much as he was defending her.

Something strange—something beyond himself—warmed through his chest.

“But perhaps if you beg, I’ll let the girl live,” the centaur continued.

“He’s lying,” Pippa said. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Though she spoke with conviction, her small sword raised in the air, Arjun felt her tremble behind him.

He didn’t want to die here in the wastes of the Sylvan Wyld. To be eaten by glasswing beetles and flesh-eating hobgoblins and beasts with filthy fangs and remorseless souls. Nor did Arjun want to perish on his hands and knees, begging for the mercy of wicked creatures who were as likely to grant him a boon as they were to offer him a flagon of wine.

If anything, the beasts in the Ice Palace only wished to humiliate Arjun further. Pippa’s teeth chattered behind him, though she did not flinch. Brave girl. His bride of a mere moment was formidable. Unflinching. So much more than he’d inexcusably expected at first glance.

“I’ll do it,” Arjun said without hesitation. “I’ll say whatever you want me to say, so long as you let her live.”

“N-no,” Pippa stammered. “Don’t—”

The centaur threw back his head and laughed, his yellow irises shining with an evil light. The light grew brighter and brighter, taking on a sound and mind of its own. Until Arjun was forced to shield his eyes. Pippa, too, drew back in dismay, the centaur laughing all the while.

They shrank back, their weapons wavering about haphazardly.

Pippa clutched at Arjun’s shoulder as the light grew ever brighter. He turned to draw her into an embrace, as if the white light might swallow them both whole. Then it flashed and flickered before fading in a single breath.

Arjun opened his eyes and looked around, his pupils still burning from the brilliance. Pippa stirred in his arms, her dark lashes fluttering.

The entire chamber was empty. No broken, bleeding bodies, no overlarge insects hovering beneath the rafters. No long banquet tables laden with stinking food and drink.

“Hello.” A calm voice echoed to Arjun’s left.

He whirled around to find two small blue goblins standing side by side. Arjun recognized one of them. It was the one who’d served the king his drink the last time Arjun was in the Ice Palace, juddering with nervousness the entire time.

The small goblin took a step forward, his compatriot watching with an anxious stare.

“Welcome to the Sylvan Wyld,” the little blue goblin server said. “My name is Sunan. And you passed my first test.”

“Sunan of the Wyld,” Arjun said in recognition. The very same Sunan that Bastien had sought so desperately on their last journey through the wintry wilderness.

With a grin, Sunan clapped his hands once, twice . . . and the third time, it echoed like a toll of thunder. Pippa shouted, her palms covering her ears. A flicker of lightning shot through the space, causing the entire ice structure to tremble. The ramparts began to crumble. The ground shook beneath their feet.

When Pippa and Arjun opened their eyes, they were standing in musty darkness. The walls and ceiling were all made of stone, as if they were in some kind of cave.

Sunan grinned. “Are you ready for my next test?”