‘Send him away, Stella,’ Zara says, tucking her arm through mine.

Yanny links my arm on the other side, a look of determination on his face. And something clicks, deep inside me. Something that was so lonely, and even today, standing before my father, felt so out of place.

I’m not out of place.

I’m not alone.

I am fae. I am all that he is, and more, because I have friends, and he stands alone in a flurry of nothing but his own fear.

I breathe long and slow, and let it gather, noticing that the clearing has become still. Every fae creature is staring from me to the Stag. Fierce Elowen is shouting something, but I cannot hear the words through the snarling chaos. The Stag stands before me, his breath steaming, antlers held high, and he roars, and I take a step towards him, and my bare feet don’t make a sound on the ground, and I clench my fists, and I roar right back at him, and it reverberates, a boom of sound that never came from a human mouth. I pour all of my hurt in there, and all of my fear, until my chest burns, until my back aches. The acorn at my neck flashes hot, and then there is a sharp twist of pain, and a lift beneath my ribs. My heart is thudding like a thunderstorm. I look at the shadow of my father, who does not acknowledge me, even now.

‘Get away from here,’ I say in a small voice that somehow rings through the clearing, as the moon comes into view, crescent-thin and dazzling bright.

He lowers his head as if preparing to charge, and I step towards him again, and I start to run, but the ground falls away beneath my feet as wings – my wings, that Nan’s glamour hid for all these years – spread and catch the air, and Winterspell lights up around me.

Every tree and leaf, every bright face and every single fae form is caught in a silver burst of light, until the clearing is a dazzle of outstretched, beating wings. They sweep out from the backs of all the cursed young fairies and sprites in a rainbow torch of magic, and the shadows cannot stand beneath such light. They don’t just rush to shelter. They don’t yammer or growl or fight. They simply stretch to tatters and disappear.

The willow trees lower their heads, the rowan spread their limbs, the fae stamp their feet, and the shadow of the Stag is massive. He is all of them in one place, just one creature with no more or less power than any other.

‘Go back to him!’ I shout.

The clearing rings with it, and my heart thunders as I stare at him. He looks at me then, right in the eye, and finally he nods. He turns, making his way back to the palace that is no longer hidden.

‘You did it!’ crows Yanny.