He lashed his tail in warning. I looked past him, for the first time truly taking in our surroundings. We stood on the stone pavement of a monumental plaza. In the distance, to both the right and the left, rose other wards, each with a pillar formed of glass, a glittering crystal tree whose leaves tinkled in a cold wind, and a fountain spilling sleet as an icy breath. In the center of all, far away, stood a white stone palace. Ribbons of silver and gold shimmered along the top of its wall, caught in a wind we could not feel down here. My father had written in his journals of an old folktale that mentioned a palace like this one, with four gates.

In the plaza, shadows and bursts of light coalesced, marking the arrival of the Hunt. Crows flapped down to perch on my sire’s back, and what should have looked ridiculous instead heightened the aspect of his power. Lean hounds padded up beside him. A cloud of wasps circled over his head, while a pack of huge gray dire wolves drew muzzles back to show their teeth.

He roared again, the sound so loud the crows took flight, cawing.

A second roar answered.

My sire looked around as if startled.

A pride of tawny saber-toothed cats flowed into view, halting to mill around Rory and me. Not even the Wild Hunt dared rashly charge in against a pride of saber-toothed cats. They dipped heads, rubbed; one of the smaller females nipped at Rory, and he nipped back. The one I recognized as his mother boxed him across the head with a paw. He growled, and she batted him again. His ears twitched, then flattened.

Satisfied, she turned with the others to stare hungrily at Bee.

“Aunt! I pray you, listen to my words. The Master of the Wild Hunt seeks to harm me and mine. Bee is my cousin and will not harm you. Just as your son has been forced to serve his sire, so has she been forced to serve those you call the enemy. Please help me stand against him.”

Tentatively I extended a hand so she could sniff my palm. Her beauty dazzled me, as did the sheer force of her physical presence, with its power and majesty and, of course, those teeth.

She reared up to balance her weight on my shoulders. Her gold eyes met mine unblinkingly. She could have ripped off my face with one lazy yawn. Her breath was hot, laced with a carrion scent, and yet it did not disturb me. Predators had these cravings.

She made a sound something like a meow and something like a query.