“But I’ve got to tell you,” he says, cutting her off, “you’d better hope we find Jilly in one piece or you’re going to have more to worry about than what we’ll do with a few renegade bogans.”

“Threatening me won’t get your friend back any more quickly.”

“I’m not threatening you. It’s just a friendly warning because you just really don’t want to be in the firing line when Joe gets this news.”

He glances at Mother Crone and tips a finger to his brow, then turns to me. “You ready to hit the road, Grey?”

I nod, but before we can go, we’re interrupted by the sudden appearance of an odd little man who comes running in through the door. He’s the first of the aganesha I’ve seen here in the court that actually looks the way I’ve always imagined fairies did—I mean, before they showed up here and started mimicking human clothing and mannerisms. He’s a wizened little fellow with sharp features and pointed ears, dressed in a pale blue robe, the hem of which he’s holding in his hand to make it easier to run. His hair’s a pale cloud of frizz and his eyes are that steely blue of chicory flowers.

“Your Highness!” he cries as he bursts in the room. “You must come and see . . .

His voice trails off when it registers that we’re here, a pair of cousins. He stares at us wide-eyed. The hem of his robe drops from his grip and his bony ankles are hidden under its folds.

“It’s all right, Muircan,” Tatiana says after a moment’s hesitation. “You can speak freely in front of our guests.”

Jack and I exchange glances. Muircan waits another beat, plainly unhappy—either with his news, or his queen. Probably both.

“You must look into the between,” he finally says.

So we all do. I’m expecting some kind of fairy business, something of major concern to them, and I guess it is, but it’s really a big deal on all fronts: fairy, cousin, and maybe even human, depending on the fallout.

The first thing to hit me is the sound, because all that’s initially visible is an indistinct ocean of brown. I can’t make out what it is we’re looking at. But the sound . . . the sound is huge: the boom of a multitude of drums combined with hooves stamping on the ground, dancing in place, pounding like thunder when it’s rumbling directly overhead, playing a heartbeat rhythm—a single, cadenced pulse that immediately awakes an echoing response in my own chest.