I could tell Ash didn’t like it; he was always the plan-for-anything type, and usually found my play-it-by-ear tactics annoying and disturbing. But he didn’t say anything more, and it wasn’t long before we came to the huge mound of grassy earth that marked the entrance into Oberon’s court. Thick brambles surrounded the rise, though they parted easily before us, letting us through, and we walked toward the side of the hill without breaking stride.

“Anything else I should know about?” Ash muttered as we approached the mound side by side. “Any small detail you conveniently overlooked that might come up while we’re here?”

“Um…” I shot him a sideways glance. “Just one more small thing.” He raised an eyebrow, and I chewed my lip. Oh, he was not going to like this. “Torin and the queen are rumored to be…um…involved.”

“What?”

But then we were through the side of the hill and stepping into a courtyard teeming with Summer fey—the heart of Arcadia.

Music played, one of my favorite tunes about sun and shadows and growing things, and lying at the bottom of a cool stream while the fish whispered to you. Trees lining the edge of the courtyard sighed softly, moving their branches to the song, and the thousands of flowers blooming everywhere swayed gently in rhythm. Dryads, satyrs, gnomes and other Summer fey milled about the open space, sitting on benches, talking or dancing together in the grass. Yep, I was definitely home.

I could feel Ash’s glare on the back of my head, and knew he was ready to kill me, but the fey closest to the edge of the courtyard spotted us and leaped to their feet.

“Be nice, ice-boy,” I said through clenched teeth, plastering a grin on my face as the crowd came forward. “They’re coming, so smile and don’t stab your partner. It’s showtime.”

“Sir Fagan!” a female satyr exclaimed, skipping up to us. Her hooves clopped daintily over the cobblestones. “Sir Torin! You’ve returned, and you’re alive. Welcome back!”

“How were your travels, Sir Fagan?” asked a nymph, giving me a sly smile. “Did you manage to get the Treasure of the Moonbeast this time? Did you slay the dreaded Worm of the Fellswamp? Tell us of your adventures.”

“Yes, yes,” echoed a brownie. “What happened?”

“Yes, tell us!”

“Tell us your story!”

I raised a hand. “Enough, fair people, enough! There will be time enough for stories and songs and tales of daring-do, but that time is not now.” They quieted down, looking disappointed, and I gave a tired sigh. “Sir Torin and I have traveled far and wide, and we are weary. We have many tales to tell, yes, but first we must speak to our lord.”