“There’s plenty of fresh water in Tineroth. I’ll show you where it can be found, and the wild life of the surrounding woods thrives. There’s more than enough to feed one small woman. You just have to know where to hunt. And there are those unseen who still serve me and this city.”

That last enigmatic statement didn’t ease her worry. Solstice was a good four months off, but what did she have to return to? Niamh’s frail body rested within the earth she loved. The cottage stood empty, no longer a home but a shell containing memories that made Imogen’s throat tighten with tears. Nothing and no one demanded her immediate presence, no home or family anxiously awaited her return.

“I’ll stay until the solstice.” A subtle shift in Cededa’s expression revealed his satisfaction at her answer. “However,” and she raised her chin, “I don’t have the means to repay your hospitality.”

His deep chuckle puzzled her. “Believe me, girl. If this works as I hope, you will have repaid me in wealth beyond price. The debt I owe Niamh will be nothing compared to the one I will owe her daughter.”

She didn’t get a chance to question his odd remarks. He bade her follow him through the city to the royal palace or what was left of it. They traveled along narrow streets lit by a hunter’s moon and silent as crypts. Eyeless windows allowed glimpses into buildings swelling with a stygian darkness. Only the silver-gilt streets and the pale corona of light at Imogen’s feet kept them from being swallowed by deep night. Cededa’s fair hair shone like a beacon as she followed him deeper into the city’s heart.

Tineroth was a vast maze of avenues and courtyards, crumbling buildings and abandoned temples. After walking for nearly an hour, they came upon a high wall of smooth stone, cut so perfectly and stacked so tightly, Imogen didn’t think a sliver of human hair would fit through the spaces between the stones. They passed beneath an arch that led into another of the courtyards. Here a procession of statues encircled the yard, copies of those she’d passed on the bridge. Behind them, a broken palace rose, its roof topped by a coronet of spires, hints of their once graceful lines degraded by time and decay to jagged teeth that pierced the sky.

Sadness engulfed her at the sight. What had Tineroth been like in its glory? She imagined it in daylight, the grand structures whole and new, people moving to and fro on her now deserted streets. Imogen had lived a life of isolation with only a rare visit or two to the nearby townships. The crush of people on market day had made her break out in a sweat every time, but she’d been enamored by the life and bustle around her, so different from the quiet solitude of the cottage. How fantastic must this city have been so long ago.

A pair of iron gates, cast in a delicate filigree design that reminded Imogen of the enchanted pendant, hung skewed on twisted hinges. A gap between them allowed her and Cededa to pass through easily into the palace’s interior. Inside, a syrupy blackness snuffed out all light, including the pool of radiance beneath her. That prickling feeling of being watched intensified.