BASTIEN

It is a strange sensation, crossing from the Sylvan Vale into the Sylvan Wyld. From a court of perpetual sun to one of perpetual night.

The border is not an imaginary line through the dirt, but a river. One side is bathed in ochre warmth. The other bank is shadowed, the rocks along its shore crusted with blue ice.

A lone bridge connects the two lands, spanning the width of the rapidly flowing water. This scene is a fitting representation of this world. From a distance, it appears tranquil. Up close, the water hurtles over the stones at breakneck speed, the center of the river blacker than pitch.

Even though we stand on the sunlit shore, I am grateful for the darkness across the way. There is honesty in it. Unlike the court of the Vale, the dark does not pretend to be something it isn’t. And I’ve had my fill of the light.

The leader of the assembled fey—the small warrior I trapped along the beach—introduces herself as Yuri just before she and ten of the Grey Cloaks in her command leave us at the entrance to the bridge.

She turns to me, her face stern and unforgiving. Carved from granite. “I would ask one last time that our lady’s daughter accompany us back to the Summer Court of the Vale. If you care at all about her safety”—she glowers at me and at Arjun—“tell her to heed this advice.” The entire time she speaks, she avoids looking at Celine.

I’m certain Celine is well aware of this.

Laughter flies from Arjun’s lips. “You’ve truly mastered that expression,” he says to Yuri. “You could burn the feathers off a nighthawk with nothing more than the force of your glare. My mother would be proud.”

Yuri frowns. “At least one of us can say we’ve made the general proud.” Her waist-length braid of straight black hair swings over one shoulder. “If General Riya were here to see you working in service to blood drinkers . . .” There is no malice in her tone. Simply cold truth.

“Thankfully I forswore the desire to make my mother proud years ago,” Arjun says with a grin. “Would you believe I chose to work for Nicodemus Saint Germain just to see if her head would explode?” He pauses, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Or perhaps for nothing more than the sheer joy I knew it would bring her.”

“Nicodemus Saint Germain’s assassin murdered your mother’s best friend,” Yuri says.

“Don’t fret,” Arjun retorts. “Shin Jaehyuk isn’t exactly my favorite vampire at present.”

Yuri sucks in her cheeks as if she’s swallowed a lemon. Then she angles her unyielding gaze at me. “I hope you’re not as foolish as he is, leech.” Her lips twitch, her disgust plain. “Our lady’s daughter turns to you for more than guidance. She trusts what you have to say. Tell her to remain in the Vale, where it is safe.”

Celine steps between us, her brows gathered low on her forehead. “I’m still here, Yuri.”

“I know,” Yuri says without blinking. “I also know I will not succeed in persuading you; therefore, it is not a worthwhile use of my time.” She shifts back toward me. “What say you, leech?”

I say nothing in response. Instead I look at Celine. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know how decisions are made in the Vale, Yuri,” Celine says, “but I gather it was not easy for you to attain such a lofty position. And I believe neither you nor my mother appreciate being told what to do by any man, friend or foe.”

Yuri’s lips twitch again.

“I will do as I please, and neither you nor these gentlemen will make such decisions for me,” Celine finishes.

Yuri harrumphs. Stabs the staff of her spear through the fragrant soil at her feet.

“At least in the Wyld,” I say, “I will see the monsters that come our way and know they are monsters.” A part of me thinks such a pointed statement will kindle Yuri’s ire.

But she seems to appreciate candor.

“You have no idea of what you speak.” Yuri’s tone is grim. “The monsters of the Wyld attack without provocation. They do not need a reason or a purpose to rip you to shreds.”

Unease radiates down my spine. I want more than anything to do as Yuri asks and demand that Celine remain in the Sylvan Vale, under the protection of her mother.

I am still not the man I want to be. I can only hope I am better today than I was yesterday.

“Thank you for the warning,” I say to Yuri.

“Be it on your head, then, vampire,” Yuri replies. She reaches into her cloak and removes two longer daggers and a short dirk. All three blades are clearly fashioned of solid silver, their matching sheaths bejeweled with rubies. She turns to her second in command, who produces a weapon much like a crossbow, but shorter, its quarrels blunt, their tips gleaming silver as well.

“We were told you are a bit of a marksman,” Yuri says to me. “A revolver will draw too much attention in the Wyld. Such a bombastic, uncivilized sort of weapon. It reveals your position after the first shot. The lack of subtlety is so like a vampire.” She sneers. “This crossbow will fire ten quarrels in succession before it needs to be reloaded. I suppose your much-lauded aim will be of use with at least one of them.” She snaps her fingers, and three of the Grey Cloaks nearest to her remove their hooded garments and pass one to Arjun, one to Celine, and one to me.

“Since you clearly lack all sense of reason, you might as well take these, though they won’t save you from your own stupidity,” Yuri says. “Also you’ll need gloves, leech. These weapons were designed to work against you, not for you.” She pitches a pair of soft leather gloves my way. “A final word of warning,” she finishes. “Tread lightly wherever you go. Speak only when necessary, and never stay too long in one place. If you find yourself ambushed, protect Celine. If you don’t, your lives will be forfeit.” She sniffs. “And the Lady of the Vale likes to take her time when she exacts punishment.”

I almost smile. In another time and place, I would like Yuri. She reminds me of Odette.

A grin ghosts across my lips. They would hate each other.

Yuri gestures toward the other Grey Cloaks, who form a line on their side of the bridge and watch as Celine, Arjun, and I cross.

The cold descends on us slowly, just like the darkness of an encroaching dusk. Halfway across the bridge, clouds of air form around Celine’s and Arjun’s mouths with each exhale. There is a shift in the wind, like the changing of the seasons. Even the smell turns to one of frost and mint and something else, unlike anything I’ve ever encountered on the mortal plane. Light sprinkles of snow begin to fall, our boots crunching through the frozen stillness. The only other sound is that of the skeletal trees, icicles tinkling together like wintry wind chimes.

We complete the crossing and step into the drifts of powdery snow along the riverbank. When I glance over my shoulder, I see the Grey Cloaks watching us on the opposite shore, their spears pointed toward the bright blue sky. One last time, I consider asking Celine to return with them. There is no need for her to risk herself in this land of perpetual night, chasing after a fool’s dream.

But I glance her way, and I keep silent.

“The borderlands of the Wyld are known for their labyrinthine forests,” Arjun says. His voice startles us, for it sounds different in this place. As if it has been sent down a long tunnel. “I’ve heard there are trees here who have a taste for mortal blood.” He quirks his lips. “Perhaps they’re your ancestors, Bastien.”

“Charming,” Celine replies, drawing her cloak closer about her. A gust of wind blows, scattering a flurry of snow in our faces. The next instant, fox fur appears on the hood around her head. It spreads until it forms an inner lining on the entire cloak. Celine hums in appreciation. “I suppose not everything about this place is dreadful.”

“Cling to that,” Arjun continues in a droll tone. “It’s bound to worsen from here.”

We trek through the edge of the wood and beneath its twisted canopy in complete silence. This forest is a stark contrast to the one in the Summer Court. Where gold and silver dust shimmered, flecks of iron dot the landscape, glittering in the moonlight like black diamonds. A pair of emaciated birds caw to our right as they flap slowly through the bare branches before landing together to stare down at us. Their eyes are tarnished pewter, their beaks made of solid ice. I stop to look at the smaller one, who turns its head, then cackles before taking flight once more, its mate quick to follow in its shadow.

My nerves spark, the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It’s as if I can feel eyes upon me, though I hear nothing. My senses flash as I throw them wide.

It is disorienting to be surrounded by such silence. As if I’ve become accustomed to the constant drone of life all around me.

But I know in the marrow of my bones that we are not alone.

We are being watched. I would bet my immortal life on it. I want to tell Arjun and Celine, but it would be of no benefit to inform the creature lurking nearby of my awareness. So instead of saying anything, I gesture toward both of them, my eyes roving around us, speaking without words.

They do not move or nod or say anything in return. But I know they understand.

For a harrowing instant, all the light fades around us. I am still able to see, but I feel Celine’s apprehension in the race of her pulse and the sharpness of her gasp. The dark lingers as the moon has passed behind the shadow of a cloud. Then the sky begins to clear, and a sliver of moonlight emerges from between the skeletal treetops.

Celine stops to stare at the moon just as the last of the clouds shifts to unveil its cool light in all its glory. The snow-covered forest comes to life, the soft blue of the rime resembling that of a pale dawn, the trees silhouetted in white.

“It’s . . . beautiful,” she says.

“I don’t disagree,” Arjun replies.

“Beauty often masks the decay beneath,” she murmurs.

It’s something my uncle has said many times before. A memory Celine should have lost. “A fitting sentiment for such a place,” I remark in a casual voice, my eyes scanning our surroundings. “Where have you heard that saying?”

Celine frowns. “I . . . don’t know.” She shakes her head, the fur-lined hood falling to her shoulders.

“You know, if not for those horrific birds a few paces back, I would not be unnerved by this,” Arjun says. He shudders. “They looked like demonic ravens ready to feast on our bones.”

“Perhaps I’ll catch one and gift it to you as a pet.” Celine grins.

Arjun snorts. I watch as his hands, ever so casually, disappear in the folds of his cloak, where I know he hid two of the blades Yuri left with us.

In response, Celine places a hand in her skirt pocket, her fingers wrapping around the golden bauble of sunlight gifted by her mother. Arjun continues smiling as we weave between the trees. Then he pauses a moment, his head tilted to one side.

Nothing happens.

“Shall we carry on?” Celine asks, her green eyes bright and alert.

I nod.

She screams just as the creature lands on my back.