Gripping my sword, I walked forward, still sending power flowing into the tree, the merged glamour of Summer and Iron. I passed the first head, which hissed and tried to snap at me, failing. I walked calmly past the second, to the same result, until I stood in the center of the coil of roots and snake. And I closed my eyes again, searching for the heartbeat, the pulse of life that pounded through the huge sentinel. I followed that beat, the coils of both snake and tree thrashing wildly around me, until I found it. A chink in the snake’s armor, a hole barely the size of my fist. The sentinel wailed, beady red eyes glaring at me through the branches, and I gave it a sad smile.

“I’m sorry. But I am the Iron Queen, and you are in my way.”

Raising my sword, I drove it, point down, into the crack between scales, sinking it deep. The sentinel screamed, a high piercing wail, and convulsed madly, shaking the roots of the tree. I staggered away, clutching my sword, as it wailed and thrashed, fighting the inevitable. At last, its struggles slowed, the light went out of its crimson eyes and it finally stopped moving.

I slumped against a branch, breathing hard, my body spent from using so much power. Pushing myself off the root, I sheathed my blade as Ash and Puck came through the web, both their expressions blank with disbelief. I grinned at them tiredly.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “So, why did you guys have such a hard time, before?”

Puck blinked at me, and Ash approached until he stood only a few feet away. Silently, he met my gaze and, lowering his head, gave me a very solemn bow. “You are truly a queen of Faery,” he said in a voice only I could hear. “I am honored to be your knight.”

A lump caught in my throat, but at that moment, the Wishing Tree flared up and blazed with light. I flinched and turned away as hundreds, if not thousands, of candles sprang to life along the branches, making the entire tree glow in the darkness like a beacon.

“Oh, yeah,” Puck commented, staring up at the galaxy of flickering lights. “I remember this. Bit of advice, princess—only blow out the one candle. Bad things happen if you try to wish for more than one thing.”

Warily, we stepped beneath the limbs of the tree, feeling the heat from a thousand tiny flames against our faces. I caught a flash of gray fur overhead, and Grimalkin peered down at us from one of the branches, the candlelight reflected in his golden eyes. “The wish has already been spoken,” he purred, waving his tail. “The way to the oracle is clear. When you are ready, simply douse a candle and close your eyes. The tree will do the rest.”