We headed into the trees, which quickly grew dark and tangled as the Iron Realm faded into the uniform murk of the wyldwood. The sounds of battle grew louder, more consistent, until we finally broke through the trees and stood at the edge of the wyldwood proper. A large chasm ran the length of the perimeter, separating the wyldwood from the Iron Realm, and a bridge spanned the gulf between territories. At one point, the bridge had been made of wood, but the wyldwood kept dragging it down, as if it didn’t want anyone coming or going into the Iron Realm. So finally, I’d spoken to my father, King Oberon, and another bridge had been constructed, this time made of stone and fashioned in place by trolls and rock dwarves. Moss and vines still curled around the heavy posts and railings, but dwarves knew stonework better than anyone, and this bridge wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.

Just as well.

A fight raged in the middle of that bridge—at least, I thought it was a fight. It might’ve been a crazy, twirling dance for all I knew. A hoard of small, dark faeries in wooden masks jabbered and danced around a tall figure in the center of the bridge. Spear points flashed, and I realized the little men were trying to stab the stranger, who was doing a fantastic job of dodging or blocking every strike with his daggers. His hair gleamed a shocking red in the darkness, and my heart leaped to my throat.

“Puck!”

The redheaded faery in the middle of the chaos shot me a quick glance. “Oh, hey, Meghan!” Robin Goodfellow paused a split second to wave before dodging back as a midget stabbed at him. “Small world! And ice-boy’s here, too! What a coincidence, I was just coming to look for you. Hey!” He ducked as a spear flew over his head. “Jeez, take it easy, you guys! I already told you, it was a simple misunderstanding.” The midgets chattered angrily and surged forward, jabbing with their weapons. Puck grimaced. “Uh, ice-boy, a little help?”

Ash instantly drew his arm back and sent a flurry of ice daggers spinning toward the bridge, striking several of the small figures, though not hard enough to kill them. They shrieked and whirled on us, dark eyes flashing, then bounded forward with raised spears.

I tensed, but at the edge of the Iron Realm, they skidded to a halt, gazing up at me with wide eyes. Crowding close, they jabbered to one another in that strange, unfamiliar language before turning to shout something to the few who still swarmed around Puck. They paused, then came forward to babble at one another in low voices, pointing fingers at me, then Puck.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Ash, who was following the strange conversation with a slight frown. He sighed.