I woke up in the back of a cart, my wrists bound behind my back. My head throbbed and every time I breathed I felt something move inside my lungs, as if I was struck down with winter sickness. It was nighttime, the sky murky green and starless overhead, the air freezing against my bare face.
Isolfr lay beside me, eyes closed, hands bound.
The cart rattled and jostled. The wheels clacked as if they were striking against stone, not grass and dirt, and so I pushed myself up, trying to see over the side of the cart. But I couldn’t see anything in the dim shadows.
I collapsed back down, taking a deep breath. Men’s voices drifted up from the front of the cart. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but every now and then they’d erupt into gales of raucous laughter. They sounded like they’d be more at home in a mead hall, slamming their cups together and flirting with the serving girls.
After a few moments passed, I tried to sit up again. My body screamed in protest, but I managed to lurch myself up so that my shoulders were leaning against the side of the cart. I wriggled my hands, trying to get comfortable. The ropes binding me weren’t so tight as to be painful, but they weren’t loose enough that I’d be able to pull my hands free, either.
I stretched one foot across the cart and nudged Isolfr in the side. I didn’t like it when his eyes were closed like that, knowing he didn’t have to sleep.
“Isolfr,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low. “Isolfr, are you all right?”
I nudged him again. Up in the front of the cart, one of the men shouted, “And it turned out it was the merchant’s daughter!” and they all roared with laughter. I flopped back. Despite the freezing air, my hands were sweaty and hot from being tucked behind my back. I thought maybe if they were slick enough I’d be able to pull free—
No. The rope scraped against my skin, burning it. I gave up and nudged Isolfr again.
This time, his eyes fluttered open.
“You’re alive!” I said, more loudly than I intended. Isolfr frowned, then twisted his head up to the sky.
“Where are we?” he said in a low voice.
“I don’t know.”
Something long and thin slammed down into the cart with a thud—the handle of an axe. “Quiet back there!” roared one of the voices, and I glanced up at its owner, a hard-looking man with thick brown hair. He scowled at me.
“We just want to know where you’re taking us,” I said, drawing my chest up. Isolfr cowered in his place in the corner.
“Where the hell do you think we’re taking you to? The lord’s manor.” The man jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “You were trespassing on his lands. The two of you are worth a sweeter price than those dragon carcasses.”
With that, he disappeared from my view. I couldn’t move. Worth a sweet price. The lord’s manor. I looked over at Isolfr, who was still staring at me with that fearful expression of his.
“He’s found us,” I said. “Lord Fox—”
“I told you two to be quiet!” The same voice from the front. Isolfr recoiled and then fixed his gaze back on me.
“We don’t know for certain,” he said.
I kicked out at Isolfr in frustration, although I had no intention of actually hitting him. “Your friend sold us out!”
“Never.” Isolfr shook his head. “He hates Lord Foxfollow more than I do. More than anyone in our world, I’d wager, and he would never have sent our carriage through his lands.”
“So where are we going?” I hunched forward, hoping the constant rattle of the cart would mask our discussion. The men up front hadn’t seemed to notice again. “Would your Lord Trystan truss us up like this?”
Isolfr glared at me. “If he took us on an out-of-the-way route, we might have passed through another lord’s lands before we could arrive at Trystan’s. That’s likely where they’re taking us. Calixto, I think, is the lord’s name.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” My heart fluttered hard against the inside of my chest, and my breakfast from earlier roiled in my stomach.
Isolfr looked away from me. “I don’t know.”
I sighed and leaned back, dropping my head against the side of the cart. I hated that starless sky. It was like looking straight into infinity.
“Are you hurt?” I was changing the subject because if we were riding to our deaths, I’d rather not think about it.
Isolfr shrugged. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” He shifted against his ropes. “The magic they used to immobilize the dragons—it had the same effect as when you—” His voice trailed away, and I looked down at the floor of the cart, at the scatter of dried grass and dirt, and felt sick. We didn’t have the carriage and its shelves of ingredients to patch him up this time.
“They didn’t strike me directly,” Isolfr went on. “So I could recover on my own in time—”
“But you won’t be able to make a daring rescue,” I said. “I get it.” I gave him a half grin. “Guess it’ll be up to me, then.”
Isolfr didn’t return my smile.
“Do you want me to help you sit up?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I don’t have the strength. Lying here—is better.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. The cart rattled along, our captors’ voices rising and falling. Isolfr and I didn’t speak much, although I watched him, ready to nudge him again if his eyes closed.
They didn’t.
And together we rode in that cart toward an unknown fate.
• • •
We rode for a long time. We stopped twice, and both times the burly brown-haired man from earlier led Isolfr and me out to the fields to relieve ourselves. “Don’t want you soiling our cart,” he said. They never gave us any food or water, though, and as soon as I had finished—since Isolfr apparently had no need for that sort of thing, a fact he disguised as best he could from our captor—the man would drag us back up to the cart and we’d be on our way.
I watched the sky change, something I’d never seen in its entirety in my time in the Mists. It wasn’t like watching a sunrise—there was no ball of light creeping up over the horizon. Rather, it was as if the color simply drained out of the sky. The dark green went away and was replaced by the paler shade of daytime.
My stomach was empty, my throat dry and scratchy. In the daylight it was easier to the see the stretches of grasslands surrounding us. The landscape never changed.
And then, without warning, the cart rattled to a stop.
I assumed the brown-haired man was going to take us out to the fields again, even though I didn’t need to do anything. Instead, I heard the sound of hooves clopping against stone. Isolfr stirred, lifting his head. His skin was growing paler, coming close to translucent. He slumped back down and let out a sigh.
“How much longer can you make it?” I whispered to him. “I thought you just needed to rest—”
“So did I,” he slurred.
I sat up as best I could with my hands tied behind my back. My limbs were stiff and sore, and it was hard to even get up on my knees—but I managed. I peered over the top of the cart. Our captors had climbed down and were waiting on the road for a rider ambling toward us on a shaggy, thick-furred horse. He wore a long cape of luxurious blood-colored fabric that fluttered and snapped out behind him.
“Name your business,” the rider shouted in a rich, sonorous voice.
“Dragon hunters, sir.” It was the black-haired man who spoke, the one who had dragged me across the field. Quinton. “Killed three adults. Come for our reward.”
“Evidence?” The rider drew closer and pulled his horse to a halt a few paces away from the men. He peered down at them, his face fixed into a disapproving frown.
“Three diamond scales. Turned the rest back into mist.” Quinton reached into his coat and pulled out a packet of burlap, which he unfolded there on the road. The diamond scales burned like fire in his hand.
“Very well. We’ll see about your reward.” The rider sniffed. Then he jerked his head up, and his eyes latched onto the cart.
They latched onto me.
I dove back down and tried to make myself as small as possible. Isolfr frowned at me, and he looked like he wanted to say something. But before he could speak, the rider’s voice drifted over on the wind.
“And what else do you have with you today?”
A pause. I sat very still, holding my breath so I didn’t miss any of Quinton’s answer.
“That’s between us and the lord,” he answered.
“I’m afraid it’s between you and me right now,” the rider said. “Who do you have in your cart?”
Footsteps clattered against the road. I trembled in the cart, trying for the first time since daybreak to work my binds free. Isolfr lifted his head, his face twisted up in exertion.
“Don’t do it,” I hissed at him. “If you destroy yourself, then you can’t help me anymore.”
“I’m trying to help you no—”
“And what do we have here?”
The rider’s voice was right behind my head. I froze.
“Well?” More hoofsteps. “Explain yourself, Quinton.”
The rider stopped at the back of the cart. He peered in and looked from me to Isolfr and back again. I thought of Lord Foxfollow, how he’d looked when I met him in the in-between world. Handsome and slippery like you’d never be able to put a finger on him. This rider reminded me of him, with his sharp gray eyes and his slicked-back hair.
The rider’s brow furrowed. “Well?” he barked.
“Found ’em with the dragons, sir.” Quinton’s voice boomed out into the still air. “Thought they might be spies.”
“Spies?” The rider looked down at Quinton, then gestured back at the cart. “You think they’re spies? They’re from the Sun Realm! Did you not notice their eyes?”
“Exactly,” the black-haired man said. “We thought the lord would be interested—”
“I dare say he’d be interested.” The rider drew up his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Tell me, what was their mode of transportation?”
Isolfr perked up at that, and he managed to swing himself up to sitting. I still didn’t dare move.
“Was it a carriage, perhaps? Enchanted? Of his lordship’s design?”
Isolfr broke into a big grin.
“Well, it’s hard to say, sir, it’d been destroyed by the dragons—it was burning when we got there—”
“Oh, bollocks,” the rider said. “You’ve kidnapped his lordship’s guests! Bring them out of the cart and untie them immediately.”
For a moment I didn’t understand what the rider had said. I was so petrified that I could only expect the worst. But Isolfr leaned forward and shouted, “Are you an aide of Lord Trystan, sir?”
The rider glanced over at him. “I am indeed. And you are in his hallowed lands as we speak.” The rider turned back to the dragon hunters. “Why haven’t you untied them yet?”
The back of the cart slammed open. The browned-haired man stood on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him Quinton was glaring at the rider, who didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“Well, come down with you then,” the brown-haired man said. “You heard his honor. We’re to cut you free.”
Finally, belatedly, the relief rushed through me. I let out a long breath as Isolfr scooted forward over the straw.
“Stop dawdling!” the rider shouted. “Get in there and free them.”
The brown-haired man glowered, but he jumped up into the back of the cart in one easy motion—surprising, given his bulk. He pulled out a knife and brought it down behind Isolfr’s back. The ropes fell to the cart, and Isolfr swung his arms forward and wriggled his fingers.
“Thank you,” Isolfr said.
The brown-haired man ignored him. He turned to me and said, “Come along then, you heard his honor.”
My relief made it hard to move. I was trying not to laugh and trying not to cry at the same time. I turned around as best I could, and the brown-haired man must have grown impatient because he hauled me up to my feet and sliced through my ropes. Immediately I shook my arms out, relishing the stinging tingle as feeling rushed back into them. Shakily, I made it to my feet. Isolfr was already on the ground, hunched over a little, standing beside the rider’s horse. The rider watched me with his glittering gray eyes.
“I’ll take you up to the manor,” he said in that aristocrat’s voice. “Separate from these overzealous fools. I am sorry to see that you were so badly mistreated, and I’m sure Lord Trystan will be sorry as well.”
I crawled out of the back of the cart. The road was made of dark polished glass. It felt strange beneath my feet, slippery like ice.
“Take your dragon scales to the usual place,” the rider said to the dragon hunters. Then, to Isolfr and me, “Come along.”
His horse trotted off. I glanced over at Isolfr, feeling dazed and uncertain. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I whispered to him.
He smiled at me, despite his pale skin and shaky countenance. “Yes,” he said, “I think it is.”
I took a deep breath. The rider glanced over his shoulder at us. “Don’t delay!” he said. “Lord Trystan is waiting for you.”
Isolfr made his way down the road. I took a deep breath and followed him, keeping my head down as I walked past the dragon hunters. They didn’t say anything to me.
I looked back up as soon as I was clear of the cart—and gasped. A manor rose out of the sweeping grass, its windows glittering in the sun. I’d never seen anything like it in my entire life, not even in the capital, where the wealthy of Kjora made their homes. Even when I’d attended a dance with Bryn, it had not been held in a place like this, with turrets and towers.
I stopped in the middle of the road and gaped for a moment. Isolfr and the rider continued on their way, and I stumbled after them to catch up.
“That’s where Trystan lives?” I murmured to Isolfr. I didn’t like the idea of the rider listening in on our conversation.
“Yes,” Isolfr said. “It’s a nice home, don’t you think?”
“Nice?” I squeaked. “It’s a palace!”
Isolfr laughed. “That’s not a palace. It’s not grand enough.”
I smacked him on the arm. “I’ve never seen anything grander. This looks like the palace at Jokja, the one Mama told me about in her stories.”
Isolfr grinned. “Well, we better make sure we never take you to Jandanvari Palace, then,” he said. “Because you might completely pass out in wonder.”
“Stop making fun of me.” I scowled at him. He made a face back at me, then laughed. He was still as weak as before, but our approach to the palace—I was going to keep thinking of it as a palace, no matter what Isolfr said—seemed to have brightened his mood.
We didn’t have to walk long before we reached the outer gate. It was carved out of black stone, statues of dragons perched on the top, their tails and wings swirling around in strange, elaborate designs. The palace rose up behind the gate, throwing off light like the dragon’s diamond scales.
I shivered. I didn’t like that this Lord Trystan seemed so fond of the creatures that had nearly eaten us.
The rider trotted his horse right up to the gate and whispered words in a language I didn’t understand. They swirled around me like mist and fog, sparking with the magic inside of my system.
The doors slid open.
“In you go,” the rider said. He turned his horse around so that he faced away from the palace.
“You aren’t coming with us?” I asked, peering up at him. “How will we know where to go?”
The rider flattened out the line of his mouth. “I’m not allowed past the gates,” he said. “Go to the front door, ring the bell, and tell Master Illsey that you’re here to see Lord Trystan. He’ll recognize your faces.”
Before I could ask any more questions, the rider clopped away, back down the shining black road.
“Why can’t he go past the gates?” I asked Isolfr. “What’s going to happen to us in there?” I peered inside, but inside didn’t look much different from outside. Just the road, more grass. And the manor, looming overhead.
“It must be a Mists tradition,” he said.
I glared at him. “We don’t know that. It could be dangerous—” I pressed close to him and lowered my voice. “We still don’t know if we’re even in Lord Trystan’s lands, you know. The rider could have been lying.”
Isolfr looked over at me. He looked even more drained than he had been earlier. His eyes were like two dull stones, and I could already start see the path of veins beneath his skin.
“I need aid,” he said. “We have to take this risk.”
“You never want to take risks!”
“But we don’t have a choice.” Isolfr’s voice wavered. “With Frida and Kolur—we had a choice. Now—” He turned toward the gate. “Besides, I don’t think this is how Foxfollow would trick us. He wouldn’t trick us at all.” A pause. “He’d just attack.”
And then Isolfr stepped through the gate, crossing over to the other side.
Nothing happened to him. He turned around and blinked at me. The air stirred, a wind that didn’t prickle the magic inside of me like any wind I felt at home.
“It’s fine,” he said.
I gathered up my strength. Then I walked forward, closing my eyes as I passed under the gate. I stopped. Opened them. I was inside.
At first, nothing happened.
Then there was a screeching clang and a wheezing like the sound I heard inside the walls of our carriage, and the gate slammed shut behind us.
I jumped. Inside the enclosure, everything was quiet. There was no chatter of voices, no laughter or singing or shouting. Nothing.
The place seemed abandoned.
“Let’s go,” Isolfr said. “I’m not sure I can stand much longer.”
That was enough to drive me forward. I didn’t want to see him collapse in the grass, knowing I didn’t have the ingredients to save him.
We walked down the road, our shoes clicking against the smoky glass. Slowly, the grass gave way to a garden overgrown with strange glowing flowers that let out little puffs of white mist. They turned on their stalks to follow us as we walked past. I wrapped my arms around my chest and concentrated on my magic, on keeping it safe from those sinister flowers.
Eventually, the road ended at a set of stairs leading up to a pair of elaborately carved black stone doors. A frayed silk rope hung down beside the door, puddling on the stairs. Isolfr climbed up the stairs and gave it a hard tug.
Deep inside the manor, bells rang.
“Get up here!” he called out to me. I hesitated, frowning at the stone doors. Isolfr beckoned me. “You need to be up here—” But he was interrupted by a loud scraping creak. He whirled around to face the door, drawing himself up straight. I swallowed my fear and bounded up the steps, arriving at the top just as a thin little man appeared in the doorway. Master Illsey, I assumed.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“My name is Isolfr Witherjoy,” Isolfr said, bowing at the waist. “This is my traveling companion, Hanna Euli.”
I fumbled with my skirts and sank into a wobbling curtsy.
“We’re here to meet with Lord Trystan.”
Master Illsey sniffed like he didn’t approve, but he said, “Ah yes. He said you would be arriving soon. Come in, please.”
He stepped out of the doorway. Isolfr and I exchanged glances. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking not into Trystan’s manor, but into a trap set by Lord Foxfollow.
Isolfr slid into the gloomy darkness. Master Illsey stared at me from the doorway, his gray eyes thick and heavy.
I took a deep breath, and I crept inside behind Isolfr.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light of the foyer. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, although it wasn’t lit, and a statue of a dragon lurked up against the wall. I noticed that it was coated in a layer of dust.
“This way,” Master Illsey said, breezing past me. He smelled of cold winter air, of mist. I shivered. At least the house itself didn’t smell of mists, but of cloves and oranges, a bright spicy scent that tickled at my nose.
Master Illsey’s footsteps echoed in the cavernous hallways. Isolfr and I followed without speaking. We threaded deep into the house, turning left and right and left again until I was certain that I’d never find my way out on my own. Everything was covered in dust, as if this Lord Trystan couldn’t be bothered with housekeeping.
Isolfr shuffled beside me. The burst of energy when he greeted Master Illsey seemed to have drained the rest out of him; I was afraid he would pass out before we made it to Trystan.
And I prayed to the ancestors that we really were going to see Trystan.
Eventually, Master Illsey stopped in front of a shut door. He turned around to us and his eyes gleamed silver, like twin moons at night. I jumped, unsure what light they were reflecting—there wasn’t any in this hallway.
“You may wait in here,” he said. “Lord Trystan will see you shortly. Feel free to tell the housekeeper if there’s anything she can fetch for you.”
He shoved the door open. Light poured out into the hallway, and I threw up my arm without thinking. My eyes stung.
“In you go,” Master Illsey said, sounding annoyed.
I stumbled into the room. It was larger than my entire house back home, and windows stretched all the way across one side, amplifying the daytime light from outside. A trio of chairs was set up in the center of the room, angled around a small round table. Everything was elegant but, at the same time, shabby, as if it were also very old.
Isolfr immediately shuffled up to one of the chairs and sank down in it, head lolling back. I slid into the seat beside him.
“Are you all right?” I whispered.
“I’m fine,” he said, even as he shook his head. “I just—I need some more of the spell we cast earlier, the potion. I’m sure Trystan will have so—”
The doors clanged open, and I jumped, my heart pounding. A woman bustled in. She wore flowing violet robes and she carried a silver tray containing a long, thin bottle and a pair of glasses.
“Would you care for a glass of brandydown wine?” she asked in a smooth, liquidy voice.
I stared at her, blinking. I’d never heard of brandydown wine—the fishermen aboard the Shira hadn’t served it to us. But the woman didn’t wait for an answer. With one free hand she poured our drinks. The wine was pale and silvery, little bubbles crawling up the sides of the glass. She handed one to me and one to Isolfr and then she swept out of the room.
“What is it?” I asked, staring down into my drink. It fizzed and popped.
“I’m not sure,” Isolfr said. He set his glass on the table. “I shouldn’t drink it, not in my condition. I don’t know what effect it’ll have.”
“Well then, I’m not drinking it either.” I slid the drink away from and crossed my arms over my chest. “We still don’t even know for certain if we’re in Lord Trystan’s manor.”
Isolfr pitched forward in his chair. I dove forward and caught him before he could fall to the floor. He leaned up against me and took a deep breath. His skin was freezing, so cold it almost hurt for me to touch him.
“I’m all right,” he said, straightening up. “It was just a—point of weakness.”
I didn’t like this. We needed to find him a cure soon.
The doors opened again, revealing a man.
It was not Lord Foxfollow, and relief slammed into me like an ocean wave. This man was much younger, with pale brown hair that curled around his ears. He wore a dark blue suit cut long and lean through the legs, with a jacket that nipped in at the waist.
“Isolfr!” he cried, throwing up his hands. “It is you!”
Isolfr peered at him, trembling in his seat. “Trystan,” he whispered.
Trystan frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and then he darted over to Isolfr’s side, kneeling beside his chair. “What’s happened to you? I heard that you were mistreated by the dragon slayers—”
Isolfr shook his head. “I’ve exhausted my magic,” he said, his voice scratchy, “from trying to flee the dragons.”
“I mixed a potion for him the last time this happened,” I said. “I don’t know what it’s called, but he needs it.”
Both Isolfr and Trystan looked over at me. I was struck by the concern on Trystan’s handsome face, the depth of worry in his looming gray mist-man’s eyes. Then he broke into a charming smile.
“And who’s this?” he asked. “Your companion?”
“Hanna Euli,” Isolfr coughed out.
“Ahh, the lovely Hanna.” Trystan leaped to his feet and bowed deeply. He lifted my hand from my lap and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and then brushed his lips against my knuckles. I gaped at him.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” I said hesitantly. “And it’s lovely to meet you, but Isolfr needs—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Trystan beamed at me with one of his bright smiles. “The house knew what Isolfr needed the minute he passed through the door. The potion should be here shortly.” He patted Isolfr on the shoulder and then sat down in the third chair, drawing one leg over his knee. He leaned back, and his movements were easy, practiced. They reminded me of the way wealthy sons danced at cotillions in the capital. As if they’ve spent their entire life learning how to move.
“So how did you enjoy your trip?” Trystan said. “Before the dragon slayers interfered. I am dreadfully sorry about that, of course, but we were trying to keep your identities secret and the carriage was enchanted so that anyone who stumbled across you would think you mere farmers. Unfortunately,” here Trystan heaved a weary sigh, “the dragons burned the spell, and so the slayers saw you as a bandits and thieves instead. A threat to the lands of Llambric, you see. My subjects are very loyal, even if we are all, technically, in Foxfollow’s service.”
Trystan’s eyes glittered. For a moment the breezy nobleman had vanished, replaced by something darker and angrier.
Beside me, Isolfr chuckled—a hollow, rattling sound. “You could have at least warned us.”
“I didn’t think it necessary.” Trystan threw his hands in the air. “Oh, you are looking poorly, Isolfr. That potion should be here any mom—”
A chime sounded deep in the walls of the house. Trystan leaped to his feet, tugged down his coat, and bounded over to a painting of a rather dour-looking man with thick gray eyes. I hardly had time to question what the hell he thought he was doing when he plunged one hand into the painting. His arm disappeared up to his shoulder. He rolled his eyes up, concentrating, and then pulled out a little round apothecary’s bottle.
“Here you are!” he said. “Freshly prepared by my own personal spell master.”
He handed the bottle to Isolfr, who pried out the stopper and gulped down the contents. He drained the bottle completely, and when he finished, he looked up, saw us staring at him, and shrank back a little.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Then, straightening his spine, “Oh. Thank you a great deal. I can already feel my magic reforming.”
“My spell master is the best in the Mists.” Trystan settled back in his chair. “And I’d hate to have my dear friend from the Sun Realms die in my gathering room! That would be awkward.”
Isolfr smiled. “Yes. Very much so.”
“I see you haven’t tried your brandydown wine,” Trystan said, gesturing down at the glasses. “There’s nothing to worry about it, you know. You’re perfectly safe from the machinations of Foxfollow as long as you’re in this house.”
I picked up my glass of brandydown wine and looked down at its contents, still bubbling and fizzing.
“I guarantee,” said Trystan, his eyes gleaming, “that a daughter of the Sun Realms has never tasted anything like it.”
Isolfr reached over and picked up his own glass of brandydown wine and took a small sip. His eyes immediately lit up. “Oh,” he said. “It’s delicious.”
“See?” Trystan grinned. “And it has healing properties as well. That’s why I wanted you to try it. I’m sure you’ve had a terrible time in that cart with those dragon slayers.” He shook his head, curly hair falling into his eyes. “Brutes! I am so sorry about all that.”
Isolfr was still sipping from his drink and nothing had happened to him—but then, he was a spirit, so it would be harder to harm him. On the other hand, he was weak from overtaxing his magic, and I could feel the dull sting in my wrists from where the rope had bound me, and my muscles ached and twinged whenever I moved. I could certainly go for wine with healing properties right now.
I picked up my glass and drank.
Isolfr was right; it was delicious, fresh and bright like the citrus fruit I’d once eaten in the capital. It was as sweet as honey and tickled my nose when I swallowed. Immediately, the ache lessened in my muscles.
“Thank you,” I said to Trystan. “It’s very good.”
“I told you.” He smiled. “We aren’t all monsters here, you know.”
My cheeks burned.
“It’s just that the monsters are the only ones who go through the boundaries.” He scowled. “And I assure you, those monsters are as much monsters here as they are in the Sun Realms.”
“Actually,” Isolfr said, setting his empty glass on the table, “one of those monsters is why we’re here—”
Trystan jerked up his head. “What?” he said. “No.” His expression darkened and his eyes loomed, making me dizzy. “No, he wouldn’t. Not again. Not after what happened the last time—”
“Yes,” Isolfr said quietly. “He found another way through. A—permanent way, although it hasn’t become permanent yet. I’ve been tasked to stop him, but—” He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.
“He brought you here.” Trystan gaped at Isolfr. “And you survived?”
I hated how they were talking over me—it reminded me of Kolur and Frida when we’d first left Skalir all those weeks ago. “I don’t think he realized that he’d done it,” I said. “It was a protection spell that counteracted with his magic, and that’s what dragged us through.”
Trystan finally looked over at me, his gaze piercing. I didn’t turn away.
“A protection spell,” he muttered. “That would explain why he hasn’t found you yet. He may not even know you’re here.” He grinned at that. “Oh, that is a delight, the idea that two children of the Sun Realms could come through and he doesn’t even know.” Trystan clapped his hands together. “Well, you’re under my protection now. You’re welcome to live here at the manor. We don’t have much, at least not as much as we used to—and you can thank Foxfollow for that, just as you can thank him for all the ills in both our worlds—but I swear you will be safe and well cared for. The dragons don’t cross the boundaries.”
A weight slammed into the pit of my stomach. Live at his manor? Didn’t he understand? Wasn’t he supposed to help us home? I looked over at Isolfr for help, but he looked as stricken as I felt.
“Does that not suit you?” Trystan asked, frowning. “I do apologize that I can’t offer the luxuries the Llambric household once—”
“It’s not that.” Isolfr fumbled around with his drink, stuttering a little. “I mean, I’ve been tasked to stop him from coming through to our world. Hanna’s helping me. And we can’t let that happen.”
Trystan stared at Isolfr with a bland expression. It was like he was trying to stop himself from showing his true feelings.
“That’s an awfully difficult task,” Trystan said.
“I know,” Isolfr said. “But it’s not impossible. It’s been done before.”
Ananna. He was talking about Ananna of the Nadir, and her lover, Naji. They had stopped the Mists. They had stopped Foxfollow himself, if Isolfr was to believed. She was the entire reason I had agreed to sail north in the first place.
And now this Mists lord was telling me I couldn’t.
“He’s right,” I said. “It has been done before. But we have to be in our world to do it.” I had no idea if this was true. “Lord Foxfollow is set to marry the Queen of Jandanvar, which will get him a foothold in our world. That’s what we’re trying to stop. We can’t do it if we’re in the Mists.”
Trystan settled back into his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest in a quick, staccato rhythm. Silence fell over the room, apart from his tapping. He looked back and forth between us, considering.
“You don’t understand,” he finally said. “I’m not keeping you here out of cruelty. I don’t want to see you hurt. Either of you.” He turned to me and gave a bow. “Even though we’ve just met, my dear, I couldn’t live with myself if I handed you over to Lord Foxfollow.”
“But you aren’t,” I said. Isolfr was shrinking back in his chair, looking defeated. I knew he was worthless right now. “We just ask that you find a way to help us get back to our world.” I took a deep breath. Trystan kept staring at me with his gray Mists eyes. “Jandanvar holds the weakest boundaries between the two worlds. What we call Jandanvar, I mean,” I added. “I’m not sure what you call—”
“The City Across the Way,” Trystan said. “Yes, Jandanvar, I know it.”
“That’s all we’re asking,” I said. “To take us there.”
Trystan fell silent again. He stopped tapping his fingers. Light poured in through the windows, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The brandydown wine had worked its way through my system and I felt vivified, as if I could march on Lord Foxfollow’s forces myself, with nothing but my magic roiling inside of me.
“Please,” Isolfr said, breaking the silence. He pushed forward on his chair, his hands clasped together. “She’s right. We just need passage to Jandanvar. We can pass through there. I’m not asking you to march on Lord Foxfollow again—”
Again. I looked over at Trystan, frowning. His face gave nothing away, but he fidgeted with the button of his coat, twisting it around his finger. When he saw me looking, he snatched his hand away.
“I don’t like thinking about that,” he said, “and you know it.”
“Yes,” Isolfr bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was only emphasizing that Lord Foxfollow wouldn’t have to know of your involvement.”
Trystan stood up and smoothed down his lapels. Isolfr peered up at him. He looked too hopeful; he had none of Trystan’s regal countenance, none of his ability to hide his emotions.
“A trip to Jandanvar,” Trystan said slowly. “That would be expensive. I’d need the finest carriages, of course, the finest protection spells. A squadron of traveling guards. Not easy to pay for in these times, but I could manage.” He walked over to the windows and stared out through the glare of light. I sat still, my heart pounding.
“We have magic,” I said. “We can pay with—”
“Oh no, I don’t want your magic.” Trystan looked over his shoulder at me. “You’ll need all of it, my dear, if you hope to defeat Lord Foxfollow.” He turned around and stood with his hands on his hips, haloed by the light. “I can afford it. He took my ancestral lands, but he wasn’t able to steal away all of my wealth.” Trystan smiled without humor. He looked back at us.
I held my breath.
“If you do this,” Trystan said, “all I ask for in payment is that you defeat Lord Foxfollow. That you kill him.”
Isolfr nodded slowly. I could see him trembling against the seat.
“Take my revenge for me,” said Trystan. “I can’t do it on my own without risking censure from the capital. But if you do it—that will be payment enough.”