Somewhere, deep in the woods, I heard chiming bells and whistles.

“Ahh,” sighed the Tree Man, “we’ve arrived.”

I splayed my feet and lifted my ears. “Are we near Merlin?” I whispered.

The Tree Man nodded his head. “Your master we still pursue. But let me ask a favor of you.” He gestured toward the music. “My people gather in these trees. Let’s rest with them and take our ease.”

“I don’t know if I can stop. We don’t want them to get away.”

“You’re the most intriguing creature that I’ve ever met, so much more than just a wizard’s pet,” the Tree Man said in a singing voice. “Come meet my people and share my fire too. And we will help you to do all that you aspire to.”

My tail wagged at that. It would be good not to face Lord Destrian alone.

A steady drumbeat shook through the forest. The Tree Man walked with a skipping step. He dipped his graceful hands from side to side and cocked his head. He was doing a dance! I barked and ran in a circle. “I’m going to get you!” he cried playfully.

I waited for him to get near, then ran! He charged forward, leaping over logs and vines while I ducked under them. He was nearly as fast as me, but not quite. I spun around and he lunged at me; the two of us rolled in the dirt.

“We’re here,” he said.

I looked backward over the weeds and jumped to my feet.

All as far as my eyes could see, the forest was filled with dancing figures. Bonfires flamed ten feet high at the base of sparkling trees, and lithe men and women danced around them, touching hands.

“Your people?” I whispered.

Dozens of hammocks were strung between trees, and giggling children lounged in them together. A band of twelve men and women stood on a fallen log and played instruments loud and lively. One of them sang.

Summers wane and summers strain; the summer’s moving on

What dies the light and calms the sprite, the summer’s dead at dawn

Come ye! Come ye! And hear our woeful song!

Fight the fight and dance the night. The summer’s dead at dawn!

I followed the Tree Man out of the bramble and into the main throng of the party. A youngster whose face shone like the skin of an apple sat up and gasped. “King Oberon!” The Tree Man smiled and waved.

Others heard and turned their heads. A woman with leafy hair gave a smile full of sharp teeth. “King Oberon!” she called out. Dancers broke their lines and rushed to the Tree Man and me. They looked strange and frightening. “King Oberon!”

“King Oberon?” I said to the Tree Man, confused. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

There was a huge crowd around us. The trees above us in the grove seemed to wave their branches at him. The band sang. “Our king is home! Our king is home! And happy folks are we!”

“There’s a lot of Fae here!” I said nervously. The Tree Man—Oberon—put his hand on my head without looking at me.

“My people! My people!” he cried. The chanting stopped and the musicians were still. The Fae had sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and a strange glow to their skin. Some were tall and thin, some squat; others had growths on their eyebrows and arms like knotty wood.

“It pleases me greatly to return to my court. Oh, Fae of Summer, hear my report! We celebrate a future where we’re free! Free from cold, and the Fae of old, and man’s ceaseless villainy!”

The Great Mothers bless the Fae

And curse the tribe of man

They block their path and light our way

To rule their oafish clan!

The band sang, and the Fae grabbed each other’s knotty hands and formed a dancing snake that slithered between bonfires.

I tried to work out what had been said, and what it meant.

“And who’s this?” cried a throaty female voice behind me. “A traveler you picked up along the way?” A rough hand grabbed hold of my fur and made me jump.

I saw a light-haired Fae woman in a silk tunic lined with vines. Her features were sharp and frightening. Shadows seemed to crawl across her face. I blinked and realized that she was surrounded by three floating worms. One was wood-colored, the other black as night, and the third white like ash. They slithered about her head and neck without touching her, swimming through the air like water.

I yipped. They looked like the worms Lord Destrian had used to attack Merlin.

“Blodwen!” Oberon said, gripping her hand. “Just a friend from the road.”

“You’re back from the forest so soon,” the Fae woman, whose name was Blodwen, said. “Did the Mothers accept your offering?”

“The men should be no problem now; I will cut them like a plow. And in the furrows we’ll place the seeds of a kingdom that serves the Fae realm’s needs.”

I tried to pull away, but Oberon was holding me in his powerful grip.

“Tree Man, please!” I said; his fingers were constricting my jaw. “You’re hurting me!”

King Oberon ignored me. “Now where is that…daughter? Why doesn’t she join the dance?”

“She’s here, my king,” said Blodwen, the worm woman. “But you know her. Shy around our people yet.” She glanced over his shoulder at a leafy canopy covering two trees. “Still she asks the wizard for forgiveness.”

My ears perked, and I tried to free myself from Oberon’s grip.

“Come out here…daughter. Hug your father!” Oberon called, and a flash of anger passed over his face. “Quench my thirsting heart like water!”

The flaps of the canopy parted, and a familiar figure stood in the shadows. She ran through the grass and jumped at King Oberon. He caught her with one hand and held me with the other.

“My brave girl!”

“Father!”

I peered up at the girl, whose eyes were closed, tears leaking from the corners. After a moment she took a breath and opened her lids.

Morgana looked at me in disbelief.