I’m at school. I’m wandering through the corridors, and they’re packed, like they would be on any day between classes, people talking and chatting and laughing, the sweaty brush of arm against arm as we all try and squeeze past each other, the reek of boys who somehow have not yet mastered the fine art of wearing deodorant, the occasional choking cloud of chemical vapour from where girls have over compensated for the boys’ lack of mastery and gone too hardcore with the spray-on stuff.

I’m part of the crowd, but I’m not. I’m walking through it – walking against it, even – but it’s like I’m not really there. No one jostles me. There’s no elbows in my side, no one treading on my feet. I’m just floating through, gliding, invisible, alone.

There are books in my hand. No, not books. Sheet music.

I know where I need to go.

The bell must have rung without me noticing, because the crowds fade slowly away. Everything is quiet and still as I walk towards the music room, the only sound the echo of my footsteps, a drumbeat, a heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

It should be frightening, that second heartbeat. But I’m not scared.

‘Hey, Linford,’ he croaks.

Finn is sitting at the piano, backwards on the stool, his back pressed into the keys and his head resting against the upper panel. His eyes are closed, but they flutter open as I close the music room door behind me, and the slightest of smiles drifts across his face.

‘Finn!’ I say, rushing towards him. ‘Oh my God, you look awful.’

He catches my hand in his and presses it to his lips. ‘Not you. You look beautiful.’

His skin is hot and dry, like he has a fever. ‘Finn –’

‘I know I look like shit,’ he says. ‘Feel like it, too. My brother – it’s a long story. He –’

‘Poisoned you,’ I say.

‘You know?’

‘I – I thought maybe it was a dream,’ I say. ‘A nightmare. That my mind had mixed up all the horrible shit that’s been happening and regurgitated it straight back at me.’

His thumb traces a line over my cheekbone. ‘Thank you for not forgetting me,’ he rasps. ‘I’m sorry I tried to make you do it.’

His eyes flutter closed.

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ I say, shaking him awake. ‘Come on. If you’re going to use up the last of your strength hacking into my dreams, then the least you can do is not fall asleep in the middle of it.’

‘This isn’t your dream,’ he says. ‘It’s mine. You found me.’

‘What?’

‘I couldn’t hack into your dreams even if I tried, Linford,’ he says. ‘The poison … the roses … the thorns … it’s like they’re dragging me down and down and down. Like they’re trying to drown me in my own mind. It’s all I can do to hang on.’

I look around at Mr Hunter’s drab music room, with its stained beige carpet and grubby windows. ‘This is what you choose to hang onto?’

There’s something almost sad about the way he smiles. ‘Do you know how often I’ve replayed that day with you and me and the piano in my mind?’

I blush.

‘I feel close to you here,’ he says. ‘Here, with all the music … it’s the closest I can come to touching you.’

I press my cheek to the back of his hand. ‘I’m here now,’ I say. ‘You can touch me all you want.’

‘I wish I had the energy to take you up on that.’

I sit next to him on the piano stool. There’s not really enough room for two people, so I drape myself over him, legs across his lap, arms around his neck. ‘I’m coming to get you,’ I say, kissing the corner of his mouth.

‘No.’ It’s somewhere between a groan and a moan, as I kiss my way down the side of his neck.

‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘I’m going to yell at you for a long time for trying to break up with me, but I’m coming to get you.’

‘Linford –’

I shut him up by kissing him, long and hard and deep, swinging my legs around so I have a knee on either side of his on the piano stool. ‘You don’t have a choice in the matter,’ I whisper into his open mouth. ‘I’m coming to get you. I’ve got a plan. It’s going to work. Everything’s going to be all right. I just need you to hang on a little while longer, all right?’

He buries his face in my shoulder. ‘I don’t know if I can, Pearl.’

‘Well, I do, and you can.’ I grab his hands and put them on my hips, covering them with my own and pressing hard. ‘You’re going to hold on, Finn. That’s not a request. You’re going to do it. You’re going to hold on, and when Misrule comes, I’m going to get you out, and we are going to fuck up your brother so bad that –’

‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Misrule?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It’s kind of like Opposite Day, where fairies have to obey their human servants and not the other way around.’

‘I know what it is,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’ve never heard of it before, but I know what it is.’

I kiss the tip of his nose. ‘Your internal fairy Wikipedia would be a lot more useful if it had a decent search engine function.’

‘It’s too dangerous, Pearl,’ he says. ‘You can’t … please, just leave me.’

‘I can’t just leave you,’ I say. ‘I can’t just leave my sister either, or the others. It’s not an option. Just like you letting go and giving up is not an option.’

He leans his forehead against mine and cups my face in his hands. ‘I love you so much,’ he whispers, his voice hoarse.

‘I love you too,’ I say. ‘Which is why leaving you isn’t an option. And you can do this, Finn. You’re strong. You have superpowers, for God’s sake. Even if I screw this up –’

‘Don’t say that. Please.’

‘– you’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘Your brother only put you to sleep for a year and a day, after all. No matter what happens, you’re making it through this.’

‘That’s not what it feels like,’ he says. ‘It feels like … like I’m dirt. Like there are things growing in me, sucking out all my strength.’

‘Let me be the strong one,’ I say, lacing my fingers through his. ‘I’ve got this. I promise. All you need to do is hold on for a few weeks.’

‘A few weeks?’

‘Well, a few more than a few,’ I admit. ‘Six. Ish. Misrule is Valentine’s Day.’

‘Pearl –’

‘The best birthday present you can give me,’ I say, leaning in and brushing my lips across his, ‘is surviving, all right?’

‘Linford, listen to me,’ he says. ‘That’s not when Misrule is.’

‘What?!’

‘Misrule isn’t Valentine’s Day,’ he says. ‘It’s the sixth day of the New Year.’