Feyland
Author: Anthea Sharp
Date: 2013-01-27 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult; Urban Fantasy; Fae; Fiction; Romance; Science Fiction; Science Fiction Fantasy; Epic Fantasy
Description: What if a high-tech computer game was a gateway to the treacherous Realm of Faerie? ~ Book 1 - FEYLAND: THE DARK REALM WHEN A GAME... Feyland is the most immersive computer game ever designed, and Jennet Carter is the first to play the prototype. But she doesn't suspect the virtual world is close enough to touch-or that she'll be battling for her life against the Dark Queen of the faeries. TURNS REAL... Tam Linn is the perfect hero, in-game. Too bad the rest of his life is seriously flawed. The last thing he needs is rich-girl Jennet prying into his secrets, insisting he's the only one who can
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, Inc

Table of Contents

Title Page

THE COMPLETE TRILOGY

THE COMPLETE FEYLAND TRILOGY:

FEYLAND: THE DARK REALM – Book 1 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

DEDICATION:

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

THE BALLAD OF TAM LIN

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS for THE DARK REALM:

FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT - Book 2 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

DEDICATION:

FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT – PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWO - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER SIX- THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER SEVEN- THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER EIGHT- THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER NINE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER NINETEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - THE BRIGHT COURT

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS for THE BRIGHT COURT:

FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM – Book 3 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

DEDICATION:

FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM – PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER THREE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER FOUR - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER FIVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER SIX - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER NINE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER NINETEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER THIRTY - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

EPILOGUE

Watch for novels of the Feyguard, coming in 2013!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS for THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

~ Award-winning YA Urban Fantasy Trilogy ~ All three books in one epic digital bundle ~

Faeries. Computer games. A boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and the girl he's afraid to love...

What if a high-tech computer game was a gateway to the treacherous Realm of Faerie?

"Ms. Sharp is a master storyteller... The Feyland books have found a prized place on my all-time favorite books list." -- Rebecca McKinnon, The Crooked Word

"This is a great series that deserves more attention. The books are quick and exciting reads, and if you like stories based on fairy tales, or if you enjoyed both the portrayal of the fae in Mercy Thompson and October Daye and the virtual world of Ready Player One, you will love this series." -- Kate, Epic Chocolate Fantasy

"The series has come full circle with the great cast of characters and events that take place. Would recommend for everyone!" -- Jen, What's on the Bookshelf

THE COMPLETE TRILOGY

The Dark Realm, The Bright Court, The Twilight Kingdom

ANTHEA SHARP

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2011, 2012 Anthea Sharp. All rights reserved. This e-book bundle is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. Support independent authors - read legally! To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, other than for review purposes, contact antheasharp@hotmail.com. Print copies of individual available at most vendors. Visit the author at www.antheasharp.com and subscribe to her newsletter http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp

COVER: Designs - Kimberly Killion, www.hotdamndesigns.com

Model for The Dark Realm, Jessica Truscott – faestock.deviantart.com

THE COMPLETE FEYLAND TRILOGY:

The Dark Realm The Bright Court The Twilight Kingdom

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE DARK REALM

THE BRIGHT COURT

THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

FEYLAND: THE DARK REALM – Book 1 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

WHEN A GAME…

Feyland is the most immersive computer game ever designed, and Jennet Carter is the first to play the prototype. But she doesn't suspect the virtual world is close enough to touch -- or that she'll be battling for her life against the Dark Queen of the faeries.

TURNS REAL…

Tam Linn is the perfect hero -- in-game. Too bad the rest of his life is seriously flawed. The last thing he needs is rich-girl Jennet prying into his secrets, insisting he's the only one who can help her.

WINNING IS EVERYTHING…

Together, Jennet and Tam enter the Dark Realm of Feyland, only to discover that the entire human world is in danger. Pushed to the limit of their abilities, they must defeat the Dark Queen... before it's too late.

DEDICATION:

For all the readers in my family – but most especially, for Brynn.

PROLOGUE

Jennet faced the Dark Queen, her mage staff at the ready. Excitement fizzed through her blood like it was carbonated. This was it. She’d completed the quests, mastered each level of the game, and made it here. The final boss fight.

“Fair Jennet.” The queen’s voice was laced with stars and shadow. “You think to best me in battle?” A faint smile crossed her pitiless, beautiful face. Her dress swirled around her like tatters of midnight mist.

“I plan on it,” Jennet said. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, then shook off the sudden anxiety that settled on her shoulders, cold as snow.

She had no idea what this particular fight held. Feyland was the hardest sim she’d ever played, full of weird twists and turns. She thought about it all the time. The game filtered into her dreams, shaded the edge of her days. Sometimes the computer-generated world felt more real than her ordinary life.

“Very well,” the queen said. “I accept your challenge.”

Jennet couldn’t see any weapons on her opponent, and that dress was no substitute for armor. Safe bet that this was going to be a magical duel, spell-caster against spell-caster. Jennet flexed her fingers around the smooth wood of her staff. Anticipation spiked through her, tightening her breath.

Fantastical creatures watched from the edges of the clearing: feral-faced women with gossamer wings, dark riders with red-eyed hounds at their heels. The sound of drums and pipes wove through the shadows. Overhead, a sliver of moon tangled in the black branches of the trees. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, silence fell.

A dark figure stepped forward, forbidding in midnight armor and a wicked helm, and Jennet’s stomach clenched. The Black Knight. She’d barely beaten him in an earlier quest. If he got involved in this fight, she was in severe trouble.

He held his gauntleted fist high and grated out a single word. “Begin.”

It echoed eerily through the glade, and the fey-folk let out a rough cheer. There was no one to cheer for Jennet.

Without hesitation, she tipped her staff and shot a bolt of fiery white light at the queen. A sphere of shadow appeared, blocking her attack and swallowing the fire into its dark depths. More spheres materialized and began floating toward her, called by the Dark Queen. Jennet ducked and wove, avoiding their deadly touch.

Lightning crackled from her staff, illuminating the clearing with shocking white light, but the queen evaded her bolts. Still, Jennet kept pressing the attack. The dark spheres were multiplying now, bobbing in the air on all sides. A low, menacing hum surrounded her as she tried to find a clear shot.

She couldn’t afford any mistakes - but the fight was pushing her to her limits. Worry started to nibble at the edges of her concentration. She just had to watch for an opening… there. She took aim and sent another bolt crackling through the air.

White fire sizzled and Jennet heard the queen gasp. Yes! She could do it. She could beat this game. The first player ever to claim victory over Feyland.

A dark sphere brushed against her shoulder. Ice stabbed into her skin, sent numbness down her arm until she could barely hold onto her staff. She stumbled back, trying to regain the rhythm of the battle. Keep breathing. Keep fighting. But where was the queen? The place where her opponent had stood was now filled with twisting shadows.

Everything rippled, as though the clearing was made of cloth billowing in a sudden gust. Jennet heard high, chiming laughter as she fell backward…

And landed in an ornate chair set before a feasting table. What? She jumped up, heart racing, and knocked the edge of the table. A goblet sitting in front of her shook, sending a drop of deep red liquid to stain the white tablecloth.

“Sit down, Fair Jennet,” the queen said from her place across the table. “This is the next stage of our battle.”

Pale candles in thorny candelabra illuminated the feast. Their silver flames reflected in the queen’s fathomless eyes.

“You changed the rules! You can’t do that.” Jennet’s legs felt shaky as she edged back into her chair. She was so not prepared for this.

The queen laughed. It was the sound of ice shattering on a black lake. “Of course I can. This is my court. My realm. You are but a visitor. Please - drink.” She waved one delicate hand at the goblet.

“No thanks.”

Jennet’s mouth said the words, but her hand reached out anyway and lifted the heavy silver goblet. A sweet, thick smell drifted from the cup. Roses and burnt sugar. The edge of metal touched her lips.

No. She was not going to do this. The queen might try to control their battle, but she could still fight back. Fingers trembling from effort, Jennet forced the goblet away. The air around her was sticky and nearly solid, like dough. She pushed against it, her breath coming in gasps, until at last the cup touched the table.

“Very well.” The queen’s voice was edged with frost. “If you disdain my hospitality, then you must answer a riddle.”

That seemed safer than drinking whatever was in the goblet. And the game wasn’t giving her a lot of other options. “A riddle? All right.”

The candles flared and the queen’s eyes glowed. “Listen then, and listen well, the answer to this riddle tell, or forfeit of thyself will be, and never more wilt thou be free.”

Jennet shivered. The queen’s voice was ominous, her words intoned with deep meaning. Whatever happened, it was clear that failing to answer the riddle carried a price. Jennet curled her fingers tightly into her palms and tried not to show the fear flickering through her.

“Ask me your riddle,” she said.

“As soon as it begins, it is ending. Without form, still it moves. When it is gone, it yet remains.” The queen smiled, sharp as a blade. “You have three guesses.”

“Ah…” Jennet’s mouth was dry. Her mind beat against the riddle like a bird trapped behind glass. Without taste or form. Something powerful, but insubstantial. “Is it the wind?”

A low sighing went through the branches of the dark trees. The candle nearest her snuffed out, as though some invisible hand had abruptly doused the flame.

The queen shook her head. “One chance gone.”

A circle of watchers had formed around the table. Lithe women with gossamer wings gathered beside the queen. Gnarled brown creatures with sharp teeth and fingers that were too long for their hands swayed next to them. Red-capped goblins and capering sprites - they all watched her with avid, gleaming eyes.

Freaky. This whole battle had turned beyond strange. Jennet pulled in a deep breath, though her chest felt tight, and gave another answer. “Music?”

The second she said the word, she knew it was wrong. She shivered as a second candle flame went out. The watchers surrounding her tittered, and the low breeze rustled the branches.

Jennet squeezed her eyes closed, blocking out the shadowy glade, the fantastical figures, the wicked curve of the Dark Queen’s smile. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and she tasted the metal edge of fear on her tongue. Think. She had to figure this out.

“Your time has run, Fair Jennet. Speak your final answer.”

She opened her eyes, to see that the Dark Queen had risen to her feet. A single candle burned between them.

“I…”

Panic banged through her, like a hundred doors slamming shut. The watching creatures grew still and silent. Even the wind quieted, waiting. She had to answer.

“Is it… a dream?” The words floated from her mouth and hovered there, just beyond her lips.

In the silence that followed, Jennet felt shadows gathering closer. Dread crawled through her, carrying the awful sensation of failure.

The last candle died. A high, wailing music started up, the keening cry of pipes swirling through the air. Slowly, the queen shook her head. Diamonds sparkled like frost in her dark hair.

“No,” she said. “You have lost. Now, mortal girl, I take my due.”

The queen held up a hollow crystal sphere in one hand. With the other, she scribed strange gestures in the air. Her fingers left glowing streaks of silver against the darkness. Then she pointed straight at Jennet.

“Ahh!” A sharp pain speared through Jennet, as though the queen had stabbed her in the chest. She doubled over, gasping, while agony iced her blood. Oh god. It hurt.

“Behold, Fair Jennet,” the queen said. “The answer is Life. Your essence is captured here. It will serve us well.”

Jennet looked up, tears clouding her vision. The queen held the sphere aloft. It wasn’t empty any more. Inside was a bright swirl of color, like rainbow flames. They pulsed and danced, trapped inside their crystal prison. Wavering, calling to her.

“How,” Jennet forced the words out through lips tight with pain, “how do I get that back?”

Every game had a second chance, a third. You kept fighting the last battle until you finally won. Failure wasn’t permanent. Not like in real life.

The queen laughed, and the sound carried a bitter chill. “You cannot. Without a champion, you are lost. Now go. Go! I send thee, defeated, from the Dark Realm.”

Pain wrenched through Jennet and she screamed. Golden light blinded her senses and she swirled through a sickening vertigo. Blackness waited, merciful and dark, on the other side. She opened her arms to it, and fell.

Jennet woke, aching, in the sim chair. Her fingers were stiff inside the gaming gloves, and when she sat forward, fire exploded in her shoulder. She could barely lift her arm, but it was impossible to take off the helmet one-handed. Trying not to whimper, she gritted her teeth against the agony and pulled off her gear.

She had lost.

Feyland was more than just a sim game. The clues had been there all along, but she hadn’t paid enough attention until now. Now, when it was too late. And she’d done worse than lose the game.

There was an icy hollow in the middle of her chest. The Dark Queen had taken something from her - something she feared she couldn’t live without. Bright flames trapped inside a magical sphere. Her mortal essence, the queen had said.

She had to get it back.

CHAPTER ONE

Jennet leaned her forehead against the tinted window of the grav-car and watched as the unfamiliar neighborhoods went from decent to tattered. So much had changed in the last few weeks. She couldn’t believe she was here, friendless and alone, starting a new school.

And no closer to winning back what the Dark Queen had stolen.

She sighed, and her breath left a mist on the window glass, obscuring the boarded-up windows and graffiti-festooned buildings along Crestview’s main street. From what she’d seen so far, this decaying town in the middle of the country’s flatlands was barely wired. Did the kids here even know what a good sim-system looked like?

Dad had offered to pay for her to stay as a boarding student at Middland Prep, back in their old town, when the company transferred him here. He thought she had a choice, but she didn’t. Not with part of her soul trapped inside a computer game. She couldn’t get it back without going into Feyland, and the only system that could even run the game was Dad’s prototype Full-D. Which no way was he leaving behind. So here she was, too.

The car slid to a stop outside a blocky gray building with Crestview High stamped in concrete over the front doors. Students funneled into the school, trampling the thin grass out front.

“Here we are, Miss Carter,” said George, her dad’s chauffeur.

“Great,” she said.

She wanted to make George turn the car around. Wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Or power-up her system and lose herself in an easy game - some fluffy simulated world where the goals were catching butterflies and collecting candies. Something pretty and safe.

But virtual worlds weren’t safe. She’d learned that the hard way.

She still had nightmares about that final battle. Sometimes, in the deepest hours, she woke in a cold sweat with the Dark Queen’s laughter cutting through her. A computer game shouldn’t be able to affect the real world. But it did. Jennet pressed her lips together so hard she could feel the edges of her teeth.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Carter.” George swiveled in the front seat to look at her. “I would like to be able to inform your father you weren’t late for your first day.”

Her stomach clenched, as though she’d eaten rocks for breakfast instead of toast. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open. Staying in the back seat wasn’t going to solve her problems. She had to find a gamer here - someone who was even more skilled than herself. Someone adept at wielding a virtual sword. Someone who could help her win free of Feyland. Permanently.

Without a champion, you are lost. The Dark Queen’s words echoed in her mind.

“Miss Carter?” The car door slid open.

“All right, I’m going.”

Forcing her fingers to unclench, Jennet grabbed her satchel and stepped out. Late fall air lay clammy on her skin, and a wave of dizziness made her cling to the door.

Breathe. Don’t let George see her weakness. She caught her balance and moved onto the sidewalk. The grav-car skimmed silently away, and she turned to face the school.

A metallic beeping from the building made the few stragglers scramble for the doors. She swallowed back the dry fear lodged in her throat, and followed.

Inside, it smelled like schools always smelled - a mix of cleaning products, sour lunch, and faintly, old-fashioned books. A security checkpoint loomed just inside the front doors. Her steps slowed. This was nothing like Middland Prep. Were the students here really that dangerous? Nervousness squeezed her lungs as the big guard waved her through the scanners.

No alarms went off, and she began breathing again. When she asked where the office was, the guard pointed to the first door down the hall.

The secretary, a thin, dark-haired man, peered at her through his glasses. “Can I help you?”

“I’m a new sophomore. Jennet Carter.”

“One of the VirtuMax kids?” He said the company name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Right. Um, my dad has been in contact with the school?”

The secretary poked the screen in front of him. “Ah yes, Carter. I’m transferring some additional forms over. Make sure you fill them out in full. The school will issue you a tablet so you can access your account.”

He pulled a battered tablet out of a drawer and set it in front of her. It was an old Epox, outdated beyond belief. Her hopes slipped another notch. This place was a technological wasteland. How was she going to find someone here who could help her?

The secretary pushed a piece of paper toward her. “If you’ll sign here—”

“I have my own.” She pulled out her brand-new tablet and watched the secretary’s eyebrows lift as if pulled up by strings. She scrolled through the menu until she found the red and blue Crestview High icon, and then tilted the screen toward him. “This it?”

“Yes. And you’ll want to be careful with that tablet. Make sure you don’t leave it unattended. The school takes no responsibility for lost or missing items.” He dropped the battered Epox back into the drawer, then glanced at his own screen, his eyebrows settling. “You have twenty-four seconds to get to class. Early World History with Ms. Lewis. End of the building, room 114. No running.”

Great. Like she needed to be late on her first day. She slung her satchel over her shoulder and pushed herself to move faster down the hall. A boy wearing a blue jacket dashed past, and a brown-haired girl disappeared into a nearby room. Other than that, the halls were deserted.

There - room 114. Worry skittered up her spine as she pulled the door open.

The plump, red-haired teacher standing by the desk glanced up as she entered. “Miss Carter?”

Jennet nodded, her skin prickling as she felt the attention in the room shift. All the kids were looking at her. Sizing her up: her hair, her clothes, the way she stood. Her heart thumped against her ribs, but she forced her breathing to stay slow. She lifted one hand to smooth her hair back and heard a murmur as they caught sight of her wrist implant.

A quick scan of the room confirmed there were only two other kids with wrist-chips. They met her gaze with serious relief. The rest either turned their heads away or narrowed their eyes, giving her you-don’t-belong-here-we-hate-you looks.

“Your desk is at the end of the row.” The teacher pointed. “Welcome to Crestview.”

Welcome. Sure. Jennet slid into her seat just as the second bell blared through the room.

“Class,” Ms. Lewis said, “please access file 73 in your history doc.”

Jennet pulled out her tablet and tried to ignore the whispers that followed. Maybe she should have taken the old Epox - but she shouldn’t have to be embarrassed that her gear was cutting-edge.

She straightened her shoulders and scanned the room. The two VirtuMax kids smiled at her. One was a girl with dark hair, the other, a mousy-looking boy. Like herself, they held shiny, newer-model tablets. The rest of the class though…. Despair crawled through her.

Almost none of the Crestview students had their own tablets. The clunky school-issued Epoxes were the standard. How could any of these kids be ‘leet players if they didn’t even have the most basic tech? This was like being transported back to the Middle Ages.

Still, she had to consider the possibilities. For all she knew, that brown-haired boy in the back row was a flawless gamer. She thought he was watching her, his green eyes hostile behind the swag of hair in front of his face.

If not him, what about the blond guy sitting two seats over? Seeing her looking, he winked and blew her a kiss.

On second thought, no. Neither of them could be the sim hero she needed.

Half of her wanted to put her head down on the desk and cry. The other half smoldered, ready to jump up and start yelling curses at the universe. Instead, she stared at the schedule glowing on her screen. Six classes. Six chances to find someone to help her.

If she didn’t get to the Dark Queen soon, she was dead.

CHAPTER TWO

Tam watched the new girl. Sure, it looked like he was taking notes while Ms. Lewis droned on about ancient civilizations, but under cover of his moving hand, under the hair he never bothered brushing out of his eyes, he was watching.

He always watched. Everything. Never said much, but that was okay. It kept him invisible and out of trouble.

So, the new girl. Jennet Carter. Everything about her screamed ‘elite.’ Elitist, too. She tucked a strand of pale hair behind one ear, and the chip implant in her wrist glinted. More proof that she didn’t belong here.

“Welcome to Crestview High,” Ms. Lewis said.

Jennet only nodded. She didn’t look too happy to be there, and for a moment, unwilling sympathy moved through him. Everyone was staring at her. It couldn’t be easy, coming into a new school after the year started - even if you were one of the privileged. Which, here in Crestview, made you a severe outsider.

She sat down and pulled a shiny new-model tablet out of her bag. Clearly the school ones weren’t good enough for her. Though, to be honest, some of those tablets barely worked. If he had the option, he’d bring his own gear, too.

She obviously lived in The View, the compound VirtuMax was building for their company employees. He’d heard the houses there were huge, that they were putting in specialty stores, a g-board park. Probably money falling off the bushes, too. All you needed to get in was a wrist-chip.

What would that be like? Wave your arm and have the gates of paradise open. Instant access to a safe and sanitary little world, full of the best tech money could buy. A fat credit account, probably kept full-up by a doting daddykins. Strings fully attached. He grimaced and rubbed his own wrist.

No thanks. Better to be under the radar, far as he was concerned. Not that the VirtuMax kids would know anything about being chewed up and spit out by the authorities. Even the regular townies thought they lived in the real world, but they were dreaming. Nothing was grittier and more real than the Exe. Even the locals tried to avoid his part of Crestview.

But despite his dislike of the new girl, he couldn’t stop sneaking looks. There was something about Jennet Carter. Something more than her long pale-gold hair and the high curve of her cheekbones. She seemed fragile. Mysterious.

He shook his head. The last thing Crestview High needed was another VirtuMax entitlement diva walking the halls.

At lunch, he and his friend Marny claimed a table near the back of the cafeteria. He’d known Marny for years - she lived on the outskirts of the Exe. But where he was lean and agile, she was easily as large as the big guys on the football team. Most kids avoided her, like being fat was a contagious disease. But she didn’t care.

Marny was who she was and the rest of the world could go blink. She was unapologetic to the point of rudeness, and he liked that, how actual she was. Plus, she noticed stuff. Not as much as him, but enough to make it worthwhile to hang with her. Sometimes. There were plenty of days he wanted to be alone, when he was all edges and sharpness. But not today.

“Look at her,” Marny said, pointing with her chin across the cafeteria. She made her eyes narrow and took a long, slurping drink of her cola, as if to show she wasn’t impressed.

“Who?”

He knew though. Jennet Carter was pretty hard to miss. He’d been aware of her from the moment she walked into the cafeteria. It was like an itch. Maybe if he ignored it, it would just go away. Uncomfortable, yeah, but scratching always made it worse. So he tried not to stare at Jennet’s sky-blue eyes, or notice the way she moved. Though now that Marny was pointing her out, he had to.

“That new girl, the rich bitch. She’s one of them.” Her voice was scornful, but he could hear the jealousy underneath.

Could taste it in his own mouth.

Them. The VirtuMax kids. They’d started showing up this summer, with their money and grav-cars and g-boards. Their privilege and arrogance. He pulled his battered brown coat tighter around his shoulders. He wanted nothing to do with them.

Marny took another gulp of her drink, then wadded up her napkin. “Are you done yet? Come on.” She grabbed her tray and stood.

“Where?” He looked down at his half-eaten lunch. It would be better if he finished it, since breakfast had been scarce and dinner was never a guarantee, but the grey meat and congealed white sauce was too unappealing. He pushed the tray away.

“The library. I have to see about graphics mods.”

“I guess.” He dumped his lunch and followed Marny out of the cafeteria.

The library smelled good. The scent of old paper filled up his nostrils, though there were fewer books every year. He went past the meager shelves and straight to the netscreens. Maybe he could find more info on the new simulators VirtuMax was working on.

The corporation had shouldered into town, but he could almost forgive them. After all, they were one of the few companies working on a full-sim.

Full sensory simulation. Total immersion in the virtual world.

His nerves tingled at the thought. What if that world - the world of pixels and programming - could feel as real as this one? Sometimes when he was simming he almost felt it, like he was there, inside the game. But the feeling never lasted. It was impossible to completely escape his reality.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg propped out in front of him. Maybe the people who said there couldn’t ever be a perfect interface were right, that the tech couldn’t ever get to the level of complexity that matched a human brain.

VirtuMax had been developing their full-sim for years, but the release was always delayed. Tam skimmed the articles, but he’d read all of them. The most recent one was a couple weeks old, about how the lead game developer’s death had brought the project to a stop.

Marny paused beside his screen, her taped-together reader glowing in her hand. “Anything interesting?”

“No. What are you looking up?”

She cocked a shoulder. “3-D meshes. I can’t get my avatar fat enough in Freelife. I don’t want to look like somebody’s idea of the perfect woman. I want to look like me.”

“Good luck with that. I hear Freelife’s a hard world to modify.”

“That’s why I chose it. Have you seen the avs in there?” She gave a snort of disgust. “If you saw someone who looked like that in RL, you’d think they were a genetically mutated freak. All legs and skinny and boobular.”

He hadn’t really noticed. In fact, he’d always been fine with the standard avatars in virtual reality. The females were usually cute and sexy. The guys were handsome and brawny, or fearsomely monstrous and warlike.

The point was, he didn’t want to be himself. All the options from there were good with him. Marny wanted to make a statement. She wanted to bust the parameters wide open. Him? He just wanted out.

“How’s your system?” she asked. “Still having issues?”

He shrugged. “It’s ok. I mean, it works. I can play, there’s just a weird thing with the imaging.”

And the sound card was going, and sometimes he lost connection altogether, but he didn’t want to say it out loud, in case it completely jinxed his system.

“That’s the problem with over-clocked gear.” Marny shook her head. “You’d think it would last more than a year, huh. My uncle Zeg might have some spare parts around. Or you could go back to playing at his simcafe.”

Back to the rental-quality systems. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. For years he’d helped around the cafe in exchange for system time. Marny’s uncle didn’t mind the extra help - or the way people would come in to watch Tam play, after he got good.

Good enough that he won last year’s tri-state simming tournament. He’d scored his system out of it - plus a chance to compete at nationals. And he could have won there, too, if only…

His heart twisted at the memory and he yanked himself back to the present - away from the poisonous thoughts of what might have been.

“Ok,” he said to Marny. “If your uncle has some parts, that could work. I might end up needing them.”

He didn’t even want to think about his system failing. The best part of his day was when he could pull on the helmet, slip on the gloves, and go slay some monsters. Be a hero for a little while, someplace where he was the best.

“Why don’t you ask him,” Marny said, direct as usual.

“Fine then, I will.”

Maybe Zeg had something worth scavenging. Tam’s little brother could figure out how to wire it in - the only thing the Bug was really good at. His blood-stabilizing meds made the kid so manic he couldn’t concentrate on anything unless it was full of fire or electricity.

Tam shook his head and went back to reading. There were no solutions.

Sometimes he was pretty sure his life was on its way to being permanently broken.

CHAPTER THREE

“How’s school going, Jennet?” Dad asked after dinner on Thursday. “It can’t be much like prep. Are you sure you made the right choice?”

She’d made the only choice. “It’s fine, Dad.”

If by fine you meant bleak.

Whatever the Dark Queen had done to her, it was severe - and getting worse. Every morning, a paler version of Jennet stared out of the mirror. Dizziness swirled around her when she stood up or walked too quickly. She could hide the hollow shakiness filling her up, but eventually Dad would notice she was sick again, the way she’d been right after she lost the battle with the queen. The doctors had no clue. They’d called it ‘summer pneumonia’ and had kept her in the hospital ten days. But this time, she didn’t think hospital meds would help.

Her time was running out.

Dad leaned forward and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you meeting people? I know it’s not an easy transition, but by next summer there should be a lot more families here in the View.”

If she made it to next summer. “I’ve met a couple of the company kids. They seem nice.” And tragic, as far as gaming went.

The dark-haired girl shared a lot of her classes, but she was all anti-tech - in full rebellion against the company both her parents worked for. And from Jennet’s few conversations with the other Viewer, he didn’t seem to be much of a gamer. He claimed to like simming, but he had no idea about any of the new games or systems.

“Glad to hear it.” Dad smiled at her, though there was worry in his eyes. “The academics here can’t be that challenging for you. Going back to your old school as a boarder is still an option. I wish you’d consider it.”

Panic stabbed through her and she shook her head. They had been over this so many times. Wherever the Full-D system was, she had to be. The only way to save herself was to get back to the Dark Court - she knew it in her bones.

The only problem was, she couldn’t get there.

She’d tried, over and over, had spent frustrating hours in-game, trying to get past the first level. No matter what she did - rolling new characters, trying all the quest lines - she couldn’t get to the Dark Court. Couldn’t even get past the starting areas. At least, not by herself. Just as the queen had decreed - she was barred from Feyland.

“A review of the academic subjects isn’t going to hurt me, Dad. I’m staying here, with you. Not changing my mind about that.”

She’d tried telling him what had happened. But every time, the words dried up in her mouth. How could she explain? It was pretty unbelievable. If it weren’t for the fact that she felt what the game was doing to her, she wouldn’t believe it herself. And she didn’t think he’d listen to her argue about why she should be allowed to play again on the Full-D. He’d just see it as gamer excuses. The system was currently off-limits to her - which just made everything more complicated.

Two years ago, Dad had used his program-manager privilege and brought a version of the new Full-D system home. Always working, that was Dad, but in this case it had been fun for her, too. He’d let her try out the early versions of the games the company was developing. When the next-gen system came out, he’d scored one of those, too, arguing that his daughter was a great tester. It was true.

At first she and Dad had run the proto-sims together. He was a terrible player, but he’d watch how she did things in-game and take the information back to the game designers, the rest of his team. She even played an early version of Feyland, though it was nothing like the world she’d become lost in.

Then Dad’s work heated up. His old college friend, Thomas Rimer, joined the company as lead game developer. That had been fun - Thomas was like an uncle to her, and always brought her interesting things to read. Old books, rare ones unavailable in e-format, full of fantastical creatures and odd stories. It was obvious, reading them, where his ideas for Feyland had come from.

Dad had gotten even busier with work and she spent more time by herself on the Full-D, playing through the same old content. Until she’d found the password-protected files. Dad’s security was always easy to crack, and she was curious to see what his development team was working on.

What she had found was magic.

Golden light surrounded her, and she was transported to another world. She walked through a meadow of flowers and felt the breeze against her face, smelled the fresh scent of grasses and earth. Pixies fluttered around her, laughing. Odd creatures gave her quests that led to unexpected puzzles. Her first fight in-game had been ferocious - magebolts sizzled from her magical staff and she had slain a black wyvern, receiving a glowing treasure in return.

She’d known that VirtuMax was working on adaptive technology, but this, this, was beyond anything. The game was incredible, and the sensory interface felt real. More than real. Everything else fell away and she was there, in an enchanted world.

She spent the summer in-game. Sure she ate her meals, slept, hung out with her friends, but her mind was spun about with the silver threads of Feyland.

Until she was defeated by the Dark Queen. And then Thomas died.

His death hit Dad hard, not only because he’d been a co-worker, but a good friend. VirtuMax got paranoid and work on the game stopped. Rumors flew that Thomas’s death was some kind of corporate espionage. They cracked down on security, stepped-up transfers to the View - and Dad absolutely forbid her to use the Full-D.

But by then it was too late.

“You’re looking tired,” Dad said. “Make sure you get to bed on time tonight, all right?”

“I will if you will.” She smiled, to show she was teasing, but he didn’t look so great himself. There were lines on either side of his mouth that hadn’t eased since Thomas died.

“You drive a hard bargain.” He smiled back, though there was something distant in his eyes. Probably already thinking about work.

She couldn’t take another night of pretending to watch vids while trying to ignore the Full-D systems in the game room. “Right. So, I’m going out to board a little.”

“Be careful.” He always said that.

There was nothing dangerous here, in the half-built world of The View. The fence was live, and nobody without a chip or a pass was allowed in.

“I am.” Besides, she always wore her helmet.

There was still some watery light in the sky as she coasted down the empty streets, the g-board humming under her feet. She didn’t have the energy to try any tricks - not that there was much here to work with. No rails or half-pipes or ramps. So she just balanced on her board, moving past houses and landscaping that didn’t exist yet, except inside some architect’s sim.

Nobody here. Nobody who could help her. Which left Crestview High, with its drastic losers. The sky grew darker, and she shivered. There had to be a reasonable gamer here, somewhere. Even if they didn’t live in The View.

She’d seen a flyer earlier that week for the school’s Gaming Club. The meeting was tomorrow. Maybe she’d find her champion there.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jennet walked into the Media Room and stopped, her heart sinking. The room held a cluster of netscreens, an old console, and a dismantled moto-sense setup. She’d assumed the Gaming Club would have basic sim equip. But no. Not in Crestview.

A clump of boys and a purple-haired girl were sitting around screens showing a battle RPG. They hadn’t noticed Jennet yet.

She took a careful step backward, trying to breathe softly. This had been a mistake. Maybe she could still get away unseen.

“Hey. Rich girl,” a voice called. “You in the right place?”

Jennet halted and looked across the room, meeting the gaze of a large girl with fierce eyes. She looked familiar, and her name rolled into Jennet’s mind - Marny. They shared a few classes. The rest of the gamers lifted their heads, fingers on their pause buttons, and the air in the room went heavy and cold.

Great. An invisible exit was out of the question now.

“So, you’re too good to answer?” Marny asked. “What are you doing here, anyway? Looking for a cheap boyfriend?”

The other kids laughed, though the big girl’s words hadn’t been entirely kind to them, either.

Jennet took a deep breath. This was her last chance. If there wasn’t a ‘leet player here, she didn’t know where she’d find one.

“You guys aren’t the only ones who game, you know,” she said. “I’m a simmer.”

The tension in the room gained an interested edge. One of the boys pushed his yellow hoodie away from his big-nosed face.

“You? A simmer?” He looked her up and down. “Right.”

The skinny boy next to him let out a high-pitched giggle. “Yeah, like I’m sure she’s really prime at Unicorn Fantastic. Or RainbowGems.”

The other kids laughed, ready to dismiss her.

Jennet gestured to the netscreens. “Do you guys play Rumble?”

Yellow-hoodie’s eyebrows went up. “What, you’re gonna challenge one of us to a duel? If you hadn’t noticed, princess, these are screens, not sims.”

“Ease up, Fernald,” Marny said, leaving her solo screen and walking over to the other gamers. “If she wants to duel, let her. Maybe she could show you a thing or two.”

“Right. You really want to duel?” The boy named Fernald folded his arms, then glanced at the skinny kid next to him. “Clarc would be a good pick - he’s fairly dud.”

The skinny boy flushed, but he didn’t say anything. Clearly Fernald was alpha dog in the Gaming Club.

“Or you could face off with Shella.” Fernald nodded to the purple-haired girl. “You know, stay at the female level. Girl on girl.”

This guy was an idiot. Jennet stepped forward. “Who’s the best player here? That’s the one I’m dueling.”

Fernald gave her a mean smile. “You’re looking at him.”

“Then we’re on.”

She was glad, actually. Fernald was too full of himself by far. And he was in for a serious battle, whether he knew it or not.

There was a general scramble as the gamers shifted, and an empty chair opened up for her. Jennet sat, put on the headset, and gave the 3D-mouse a couple test swipes.

It had been months since she’d played Rumble, but it was a pretty simple PVP combat game. The worst that could happen was that Fernald would end up beating her. She pressed her lips together. If he proved to be the best gamer in school, she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask his arrogant face for help - let alone spend time in Feyland with him.

“We’ll go Basic Mode, just for you,” Fernald said. “How’s that sound?”

Jennet shook her head. She wanted to push him, and herself, to the limit. “Hard Mode. Best two out of three.”

“You really want to eat cement twice in a row?” Fernald gave her a look of mock sympathy. “I’m not gonna cut you any breaks.”

“Whatever.” She selected the Rumble icon and pressed the play button.

The pre-set characters popped up, a dozen of them on the selection screen. She didn’t hesitate in making her choice - Nika, the ninja assassin. All that time spent dueling her friends last spring was about to pay off. If she wasn’t too rusty. She had one chance to remember how to play - one loss she could absorb. After that, she’d better be on.

“Ready,” she said, meeting Fernald’s stare.

“Ok, princess. Show me what you got.”

The arena appeared, a big walled circle enclosing the characters. Inside were the usual obstacles and traps: randomly scattered mines, a pit, some pillars, and a couple floating platforms. Jennet clicked through the function bars, reminding herself of Nika’s combat skills. Slice, Leap, Throwing Star, Dash.

Then Fernald’s character materialized - a massive tank-bot called Reaper. Good. That thing carried a lot of armor and some serious weaponry, but it was clumsy. She had the advantage of speed and maneuverability.

The tank-bot moved forward, bladed hands snicking together, but Jennet was faster. She leaped Nika onto one of the platforms and got a couple throwing-stars off. One of them stuck into the metal side of Reaper’s head, like a jagged earring, but it didn’t cause much damage. For that, she’d need to hit the vital spots - eyes, neck, under the ribs.

Reaper lurched forward, one arm now transformed into a laser-cannon. Red beams sliced the air, and she somersaulted Nika out of the way. Adrenaline zinged through her, and she felt her focus tighten up. Every shift of her fingers sent her character dancing away from the tank-bot.

Fernald let out a vicious laugh. “Fancy moves aren’t going to win this for you. Listen. You can still surrender.”

“I don’t think so.” Jennet dodged away, keeping far enough that Reaper couldn’t hack at her, but not so far that he could use his cannon again.

Just in time, she realized Fernald was backing her into the pit. Certain death from razor-sharp stakes waited at the bottom. For a moment Nika teetered on the edge, and she heard the other gamers suck in their breaths. She twisted the mouse violently and managed to fling her character to the side. Too slow. She’d evaded the pit, but the tank-bot was on her, clashing and slicing. There was no escape. Her screen flashed red, and Nika went down in a splash of blood and flutter of black cloth, defeated.

Jennet let out a silent breath. Okay. One round gone. She had to do better than that. She would do better than that.

“Yeah!” Fernald leaned back and cracked his knuckles. “You like that? Want some more?”

She was getting the rhythm of the game back into her body. This next fight she’d go on the offensive, take the tank-bot down with a quick assault. She didn’t think Fernald would expect that.

“Best two, remember?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If you can beat me again, that is.”

“Heh. In your dreams.”

This time, when the arena opened, she didn’t hesitate. In two fast moves, she blocked Reaper’s clashing hands and slid a blade into his right eye. With a clank and groan, the tank-bot tilted and fell backwards. The ground shook when he landed, and a puff of dust rose in the air.

The gamers were silent. Most of them were staring at Fernald’s screen, but Marny was looking straight at her. A smile lifted the corner of the big girl’s mouth.

Fernald’s expression was as black and stormy as a tornado. “Lucky break. It happens. Even the worst noobs sometimes win - by a fluke.”

“But, dude,” the skinny boy began.

“Shut it, Clarc,” Fernald gave him an elbow to the side. “And get out of my way. It’s time to take the princess down.” He shot Jennet a narrow-eyed look. “Here comes your loss.”

He’d be on guard now, but Jennet knew she could take him. She grinned at him over the screen.

“In your dreams,” she said. She heard Marny smother a laugh.

Fernald scowled at her. Good. She had no doubt he’d rush her character and try what she’d just done. A quick and bloody death.

Sure enough, the tank-bot charged forward, this time carrying a huge axe. The weapon whistled down - but Nika was already gone, sliding around the side of Reaper, her blade seeking the weak spot under his ribs.

Fernald pivoted his character and tried to pound her again. At least he wasn’t a hopelessly bad gamer. Just an annoying one. She swallowed, and danced Nika back a few paces.

Click. Barely heard - the sound of a mine, primed and ready. Adrenaline surging, she hammered the dash command and ran Nika across the arena in a blur of black. There was a sudden, fiery explosion right where she had been standing.

“Dammit!” Fernald wasn’t as quick. The blast rocked Reaper, but didn’t take him down.

Now she was in trouble. Nika was out in laser-cannon range again, and she wouldn’t be able to dash for another ten seconds. Plenty of time for Fernald to hit her with a couple deadly shots. She had to keep him off-balance - and her character out of his sights. She dodged Nika behind one of the stubby pillars scattered through the arena.

“Hiding?” There was a sneer in Fernald’s voice.

“Yeah, and you’re it. Come and get me.” She checked the cooldown on her dash. Eight seconds.

Reaper clanked to the side, trying to maneuver for a clear shot. She circled Nika around the pillar, letting a flutter of black cloth show. Red beams shot past, taking out a part of the pillar. Time to find a new hiding spot - the whole pillar was probably next. She imagined Fernald thinking the same thing. Focusing the cannon on the pillar. Pulling the trigger - now!

She rolled to the side, and kept rolling as the pillar exploded. Five seconds to go. And nowhere else to hide.

Nika scrambled to her feet and started zigzagging across the arena. The earth around her was scored with holes as Reaper kept firing, tracking her path. He got an indirect hit, and Jennet winced as her screen flashed yellow. That was the warning that her health meter was plummeting. Three seconds. Time for a new plan.

“Shiiineh!” Nika’s battle-cry rang through the arena.

She changed her trajectory and ran straight at Reaper, flinging throwing-stars like glittering confetti in front of her. When she ran out of stars, she started on knives.

“What the - ?” Fernald watched her crazy moves for the last crucial seconds. Then, with a chuckle, he raised his laser-gun. “Wow, you really are a noob.”

Deadly red beams shot out … into empty air. Nika’s dash had carried her past Reaper. She whirled, knives flashing, and sunk a lethal blow right between his ribs.

This time, Reaper crumpled into a heap of metal. Satisfaction swept through her like a warm tide.

“No way!” Fernald shoved his chair back and stood. “You used some kind of cheat. I should’ve known someone like you would use exploits. That was so—”

“Shut up, Fernald.” Marny’s voice was even. “She didn’t cheat. You lost. Deal.”

“I should’ve known. You freak girls stick together.”

With a last glare, the defeated gamer turned his back on them. He punched Clarc in the arm, then stomped out the door.

“Uh. That was really prime,” the skinny boy said, rubbing his arm. The admiration in his eyes was uncomfortably close to a full-on crush.

Jennet stood. “Well, thanks for letting me play. I sort of crashed your meeting.”

The purple-haired girl gave her a tentative smile. “It was about time someone took Fernald down. Come back again, k?”

“Sure. Do you think you’ll ever get some sim equip in here? That’s what I do, really.”

The girl shook her head. “Not in the next ten years, I don’t think. Unless VirtuMax wants to donate some.” She got a thoughtful look. “Hey. Maybe I should do a project on that.”

Clarc nodded eagerly, giving the purple-haired girl the same look he’d turned on Jennet. “Good idea, Shella. You’re so smart.”

“Well, thanks again,” Jennet said. “It’s been… interesting.”

She turned, to find Marny standing there.

“More than interesting,” the other girl said. “Best afternoon I’ve had in a while. My name is—”

“Marny. I know.”

There was a flash of surprise in Marny’s eyes, quickly masked. Then her mouth quirked up. “Yeah. And you’re Jennet.”

“Glad we got that sorted out.” Jennet smiled - one of the first real smiles she’d felt since coming to Crestview. “So… is Fernald really the best player here? Or was he just boasting?”

She had wanted to defeat him - to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. But at the same time, she’d hoped, she’d needed, to find a prime gamer here.

Marny shrugged. “Fernald’s as good as any of them are.”

Jennet gave her a close look. She hadn’t seen Marny play, but obviously the girl knew something about gaming.

“What about you? Do you sim?”

“Me? Nah.” Marny shook her head, her bobbed black hair swinging around her face.

Too bad. Of everyone she had met so far, she liked Marny. They might have made a good team - if only the girl were a simmer. Jennet would much rather have Marny’s solid presence beside her in Feyland than that jerk Fernald.

“Is there someplace else people go to play?” Jennet glanced around the Media Room. “I mean, someplace with sim-systems?”

“My uncle has a sim-café. Though you don’t seem the type to go there, frankly. Don’t you have a system at home?”

“Yes. I was just wondering,” Jennet said. “Anyway. Good meeting you.”

She felt her brief happiness fade, like an ember dying out. So much for the Gaming Club. Now what? The sim-café? That kind of place was for people who couldn’t afford systems or pay the monthly access fees on the top games. She could try looking there - but she already knew it would be a dead end. Despair boxed her in, dark heavy walls with no windows, no doors.

“Hold on.” Marny’s brown eyes held a spark. “You know, if you’re looking for a simmer you should talk to my friend Tam.”

“Tam? Tam Linn?”

The sullen boy in her history class who never brushed the hair out of his eyes? The ragged kid from the Exe? No way.

“Yep. He won his system in a sim tournament. You should see him play. He’s flawless.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Tam headed across the scabby grass outside school. He needed to do something about his system, and soon. Yesterday it had made a horrible grinding vibration when he powered up. The noise finally faded, but it had been bad.

“Tam!” a voice called behind him. His steps slowed.

Not just any voice, but hers. Jennet Carter. She had a faint accent. He’d noticed it in class, the way her answers were inflected with a lilt that Crestview didn’t have.

“Tam Linn!” she called again. “Hey, could I talk to you?”

He turned around. She was standing on the steps outside the school doors, her pale hair shining in the afternoon sunlight.

“What?” he said. Why would Jennet Carter want to talk to him?

She moved toward him, her expression cautious.

“Hi.” She tried a smile. It faded when he didn’t smile back. “Right. Well. I hear you’re a simmer.”

“Yeah.”

His tournament win was common knowledge. The fact that his prize system was tapped into the ‘net - that was secret. He wasn’t about to get all chatty with anyone about his gaming, let alone a Viewer.

“So… you’re a pretty good player, right?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “How am I supposed to answer that?”

If he told the truth, he’d come across as bragging. If he didn’t, he’d sound like a loser.

“Honestly.” She gave him a measuring look and he tried not to notice how having her gaze on him made that restless feeling start up again under his skin.

Okay then. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “Best simmer in town?”

“What is this?” Annoyance heated his words. “You have some assignment to interview another student or something?”

“No. I was just… wondering.”

Nosy rich girl. Still, a part of him - a stupid, doglike part - was flattered that she was interested. That part was sitting up, wagging its tail and ready to do anything for a word of praise from those soft lips.

So he turned his back on her and started walking away.

“Wait!” She came after him and caught his arm. “Please tell me.”

The vulnerability in her expression made him pause. Made him answer, despite himself.

“I’m the best simmer in the tri-states, actually. Happy? Now let go.”

She did, and he felt the absence of her touch almost as keenly as he’d felt the warmth of it.

“Could I…” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Could I watch you game sometime?”

He pushed his hair out of his face, so he could see every nuance of her expression. “You’ve seen people sim before, haven’t you?” The high-tech world she was from, she must have.

“Of course!” She looked offended for a second, and it made him smile a little bit inside, to see emotion blazing like that from her eyes. “I play, too, you know.”

On equipment that he didn’t even want to try and imagine, or jealousy would eat right through him.

“I don’t doubt it. Are you trying to ask me out or something?”

She blinked, and he caught the flash of disbelief in her eyes before she spoke. “Ask you out? No. I’m not.”

“Good.” Relief and disappointment circled in his stomach. He turned to go.

“Hold on a sec.” There was an edge of desperation in her voice. “I do want to see you game. Just… let me explain.”

He folded his arms and waited.

She was silent a minute, and a bubble of stillness dropped down over them. There was a tickle on the back of his neck, like what she was about to say was important. Beyond important.

“All right.” She let out a breath. “Here’s the thing. My dad’s one of the senior managers for VirtuMax. He’s been working on their new sim system. Maybe you’ve heard about it.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard of it.”

He tried not to show how her words had sent a jolt of interest through him. Her dad worked on the full simulation project? How much did she know?

“Full-D, they call it. And there’s a new game to go with it. Has to be, to show what the system can do. It’s like nothing else out there.”

“You’ve, uh, seen this new game?” His heart thudded in his chest like he’d been sprinting down the street, not standing in one place for three minutes.

She nodded. “Yes. In fact, I’ve been playing it and… well, I need help.”

“It’s in beta-testing? Why don’t you get your dad or one of the other devs to help?”

He thought he knew the answer though, and anticipation sizzled through him, burning away his jealousy, his resentment of the rich kids in the View. Was she going to ask him to play?

“Pre-beta, even. Basically…” She bit her lip and glanced to one side. “I can’t ask them for help. I’m not even supposed to know that this version of Feyland exists, let alone go in-game. But I can’t stop.”

He nodded. Games could get inside your skin and become the most important thing in the world - at least for a little while. It always wore off though. And simming didn’t keep his little brother out of trouble, or scavenge food from behind the grocery store, or help his mom when she finally came home after one of her episodes.

But a new game, on a brand-new sim - his fingers tingled at the thought. And Jennet wanted to see what he could do. Check out his cred, like some kind of audition.

“When do you want to watch me play?” He glanced down at his scuffed boots and tried to sound casual. “We could go over to Zeg’s simcafe—”

“No. I want to see you play on your own gear.”

He wished, for a gut-searing moment, that he didn’t have the life he did - that he could wave his hand and call a grav-car and they could drive to his house, a real house, full of good things to eat and shiny equipment.

And they could game. With a legal account, not his ‘jacked connection. On a system that wasn’t half broken, in a place that wasn’t falling down, in a neighborhood that hadn’t turned to rot long ago.

“I have to go.” He turned and started walking again.

She followed. “But - you do have a sim-system, right? I heard you won a great rig. I want to see you in your home element. At your best.”

“I don’t think so.” He hunched his shoulders. His home was none of her business. “I’ll see you around.”

It was stupid, to think he could connect with someone like Jennet. They had nothing in common. No matter how attractive her world was, or how much he might want it, he didn’t belong there. Just like she didn’t belong in his. The thought of taking her into the Exe, showing her where he lived, revealing his secrets… just, no.

“Wait.” Something trembled in her voice - hope or tears. It didn’t matter.

Tam shoved his hands into his pockets and kept going. He had long-since perfected the art of walking away.

CHAPTER SIX

Jennet watched Tam march off the school grounds, and desperation clawed itself up out of her throat. She needed him. Needed to see him play, needed his help.

Now that she’d maybe found the one person in Crestview who could sim, she couldn’t let him get away.

So she followed him, keeping a block behind and sticking to the shadows. He didn’t look back, not once. Still, it wasn’t easy. He zigzagged through smelly alleys, and went over a fence that smeared her white shirt with grime. Sweat prickled on her skin, but she couldn’t lose sight of him. She had to see him play.

Maybe he wasn’t all that good. But even if he was poor and lived in a bad part of town, at least he wasn’t a complete idiot like that guy Fernald. And she was out of options.

The buildings around her were increasingly run-down, and the air smelled like old garbage. Were there rats here? Tam dodged down an alleyway and she followed, watching where she stepped. When she looked up again, he was gone.

The air felt colder, darker, and a shiver raked across the back of her neck. A rustling noise sounded behind her and she whirled, heartbeat spiking.

Nothing there.

Okay. Relax. She pulled in a breath of rot-flavored air. He’d be around the next corner. Surely he would. The shaky feeling taking over her legs didn’t believe her, but she forced herself to move. One step, then another.

The alley intersected a deserted street. There was no sign of Tam. She swallowed. Time to call George. He’d come with the grav-car to get her right away, no matter where she was. There’d be some explaining to do, since she’d told him she was staying after school for a study club - but staying lost in the outskirts of the Exe seemed like a really bad idea.

She backed into an alcove and fished around in her satchel, trying to ignore the things squishing under her feet.

From out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm. She shrieked and tried to pull away, punching wildly with her free fist, while fear opened a dark hole under her feet.

“Shh.” It was Tam. He grasped her other arm, keeping her from connecting with his face. “Calm down.”

She took a gasping breath. “Tam - you scared me!”

“Why’d you follow me? That’s a stupid thing to do. Especially here.” He kept hold of her arms, but she didn’t feel threatened by how close he was. Despite the fear still echoing through her, she felt oddly safe.

“I told you,” she said. “I need to see you game - see if you’re good enough to play Feyland.”

He let go of her and took a step back. “And if I’m not?”

“I think you are.”

He had to be. He was the best chance she had. Her last chance to get back in-game and win free of the Dark Queen.

For a long minute they stood there, the smell of garbage wafting around them. Tam stared past her at the crumbling, graffiti-etched wall. Then he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you back to school. You don’t belong here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She glared at him. “Except your place.”

“Damn it, I’m not—” He broke off and held up one hand, his whole body going tense.

His nostrils flared and he cocked his head, listening. To what? Fear shivered through her.

He leaned forward and spoke in a barely audible voice. “We need to get out of here. Now. No questions. Follow close.”

“Okay,” she whispered. Her skin prickled, like somebody was watching them.

Tam led them down the alley. He moved silently, carefully, like some wild creature used to danger. She stayed right behind him, doing her best to be quiet. But despite her care, her shoe knocked against an old can. It teetered for one tense second, then tipped, clanging and rolling along the cracked pavement.

Calls erupted behind them, yips and crazy laughter. Tam grabbed her arm and hauled her forward. “Run!”

Panic powered her steps and her breath rasped in her throat. She didn’t dare look behind them. Tam dodged and turned, leading her through a series of broken-down buildings, cutting through weedy lots. The noise of pursuit faded, and finally he slowed.

“I… have to… rest,” she panted. She felt like a knife was stabbing into her side, sliding between her ribs, over and over.

He slanted a look around the dingy street they were on, then led her toward an abandoned building.

“Alright. In here.” He ducked beneath a door hanging crookedly by one hinge. “We should be safe - they usually don’t go much outside their territory.”

“They?” She clasped her hands tightly to make them stop shaking, and concentrated on getting air back into her lungs.

“The Jackals - local gang. Good thing they didn’t get a closer look at you, or we’d still be running. There’s a black-market demand for wrist chips, and they wouldn’t be gentle about taking it out. They have knives.”

She pulled her wrist against her body. “That’s… horrible.” Would the gang really have taken a blade to her flesh and cut her chip out? She shuddered.

“Welcome to the Exe.” There was a flash of sympathy in his eyes.

“Nice place.”

All told, she preferred the dark places in Feyland. Though with his real-life skills, she had no doubt Tam would be great in-game, too.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She drew in a deep breath, let it out. Disappointment curled cold in her belly, but he’d made his point. She was in danger here, and it was better for both of them if she left. She’d have to find another way to see him play.

“All right.”

Steps dragging, she followed him down the street. At the next intersection, he paused. A low, liquid groaning sound, like something dying, floated down the street. Tam leaned close, his lips almost brushing her ear.

“I’ll count on my fingers,” he whispered. “When I hit three, run straight across - right for that alley. Don’t look back.”

The cold in her stomach moved up to her throat. She nodded.

He listened a moment more, then held up his hand. One finger. Two. Three.

They bolted across the street. She got a confused impression of figures clustered around an oil-can fire, and then they were in the alley. Tam put his hand on her back, silently urging her to keep going, though there didn’t seem to be any outcry behind them.

What a fool she’d been, to follow him into the Exe. Good thing he’d figured out she was there, or she’d be in severe trouble. But now she was completely lost. Tam had doubled back so many times she had no idea which direction the school was. She just had to trust him, and keep following.

Finally, he stopped. “Here we are.”

Jennet blinked. This wasn’t Crestview High - they were still in the Exe. Cautious hope unfolded inside her. “Here?”

“Yeah. Home sweet home.”

Tam tilted his head to the flat-roofed building in front of them. It looked like an abandoned mechanic shop, with rickety exterior stairs going up the side. On the roof was a smaller box - a little apartment maybe, repaired with old boards and pieces of salvaged metal. At least there were windows, though a blue tarp covered most of the roof.

Jennet blinked. “This is where you live? I thought you didn’t want me to—”

“I didn’t have much choice. The Jackals were between us and school.” Unhappiness edged his voice. He turned to her, his mouth grim. “Do not say a word about my place. Ok? Nothing.”

She nodded, swallowing back the questions crowding the tip of her tongue. The fact that he’d brought her here at all - that was key. She tried not to glance up at the shack on the roof. It looked like it could fall down in the next big storm.

Ignoring the stairs, he led her around the building and unlocked a big metal door in back. It scraped open across the concrete floor with a low groan. Inside, the single huge room was dim and cold, light straggling in through high, grease-filmed windows. It smelled like old machines.

“I’ve got an hour til the Bug gets home,” he said.

“The Bug?”

“My kid brother.”

“All right. I’ll call my dad’s driver and—”

“No.” He frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a grav-car skimming up to his front door. “The Jackals will have gone to ground by then. I’ll take you back to school and you can get picked up there.”

Without waiting for her agreement, he moved to the far wall and waved his hand in front of the light plate. It took three tries before the bank of fluorescents overhead flickered on. The sickly glow illuminated his sim system.

It was a newer-model Zing, though it looked like it had been used hard. The chair had a long rip across the seat, partially hidden by a lumpy pillow. Cables ran like crazed electric worms from the drive to the helmet and gloves, and silvery tape seemed to be holding half the system together.

“This is… I mean, you won this?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He dipped his head, letting his hair fall back over his eyes. “Last year’s tournament.”

“So, you made Nationals? What was it like, playing there? Where did you rank?”

“I didn’t go to Nationals.” His voice was tight.

“Didn’t go? But that’s—”

“Something came up.” He turned away from her and clicked his system on. “So. You want to see me play. Any game in particular?”

“Um…”

As far as subject changes went, that one had been pretty obvious - like a door slamming shut. All right. What game did she want to see him play?

She had originally thought WorldStar. It was the sim most like Feyland - not that any other game could compete. But now… she glanced around the grimy space that housed Tam’s system. He obviously didn’t have the money to buy new expansions of the popular games, or pay the access fees. She bit her lip.

What were the free sim games, anyway? She’d never paid any attention - they were inferior, crammed with ads, and usually the graphics were sub-par. Come on… think. She had to know some games. She fished around for a name, but the grating, low-pitched hum coming from Tam’s system made it hard to concentrate.

“Does your drive always make that sound?” The question was out before she could reel it back in, but the noise was truly awful. It sounded like a moaning beast, with the added bonus of a teeth-gritting vibration of metal against the concrete floor.

He scowled at her. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Heat rushed into her face. Great. She was going to ruin this. Better get to the gaming as soon as possible.

“What games do you have?” There. Nice safe question.

“Anything.” He tossed the word out, casual.

“Really? Even WorldStar?”

“Yes, even that. And Zombiemecca, and Ruler of Days, and—”

“Okay, okay.” She swallowed back her questions. Tam had all the top games, and it was probably better if she didn’t ask how he could afford them. “WorldStar is kind of like Feyland. Fantasy-based quests, you know. Battles with monsters.” And queens. She shivered.

“WorldStar it is - and you don’t have to sound so surprised.” Tam slid into the chair and picked up his gaming helmet. “The backbone of the ‘net runs through Crestview, and plenty of people know how to use it - at least in the Exe. Anyway, it’s why your company is here.”

“VirtuMax isn’t my company.”

He shrugged and pulled the keyboard onto his lap, tapping out a few commands. “You’ll have to watch secondhand,” he said, leaning forward and flicking the battered monitor on. “I only have one helmet.”

“Oh. Right.” Still, even the flatscreen would give her a decent idea of his game-play.

The screen was dull, with holes in the display where pixels were stuck. There were enough, though, to see the overall picture. She was getting the feeling his whole system was that way - barely enough.

The monitor lit up with the WorldStar background. Then Tam’s characters appeared, lined up along the bottom of the screen.

“Do you have a level 200?” she asked.

“A few. Do you want a caster, thief, or tank?”

She blinked. “You have a top level in each class? You must spend a lot of time playing.”

“Not all that much.” He slid on his worn e-gloves. “I’m efficient. So, who do you want?”

She leaned forward to scan the character portraits. A decked-out Soldier, a Shifter - no, too low level. She needed something that would push Tam to the limit.

“That one.” She pointed to the Sorcerer, a tall, green-haired character without any telltale marks of superior gear. No glows hovering around him, or towering shoulder armor, or billowing capes. She didn’t want this to be too easy. “Lorne?”

“It’s an anagram,” he said, not looking at her. He drew the helmet down over his face, and selected the character.

Jennet turned the letters around in her mind. Lorne. Loner. No kidding.

Then the game of WorldStar opened, showing the Sorcerer standing in the street of a small village. Somewhere in Dvelt Province, judging by the grassy plain that spread out beyond the mud-brick buildings.

“Where to?” Tam asked.

An ordinary spell-caster, up against… She tapped her lower lip with her fingers. “Isn’t there a Guardian-class encounter near here? Some big kitty in a cave to the east?”

He let out a muffled snort. “That big kitty is called Saberclaw. People don’t fight him solo. It usually takes three - with a healer.”

“Can you do it, or not?”

He turned his head toward her, the visor reflecting the dim light. “My least-decked character, and in a lightweight armor class, too. That’s a pretty mismatched fight.”

She knew it wasn’t fair - but then, life wasn’t. And she needed to see what he could do against nearly impossible odds. She couldn’t take a complete noob into Feyland with her.

“Yeah, it is mismatched. Maybe Saberclaw needs some reinforcements. Poor kitty.” It was a dumb joke, but she saw the side of his mouth twitch up a little.

“Alright then,” he said. “Here we go.”

Tam guided his character to the mount master, and before long, Lorne was on a gazelle-like creature, galloping east. Purple mountains loomed in the distance, and a flock of black birds swooped up from the plains like a spiral of smoke. Soon, Lorne reached the low hills.

At the edge of one canyon was a gaping shadow edged with rocks that looked like fangs. Saberclaw’s cave. Bones littered the ground in front, some old and bleached, others new, with bloody hunks of meat hanging off them, evidence of a recent player’s death. Would Lorne’s bones join them?

A knot formed in Jennet’s stomach. She folded her fingers over the back of Tam’s chair and watched as he dismissed his character’s mount.

Tam lifted a finger, and his Sorcerer’s arms rose. Magical energy gathered in a ball of glowing light between his hands, then spread down over Lorne’s figure, encasing him in a layer of invisible armor. Another wave of his hand, and potions appeared, hovering in the air before him. Blood red, glimmering orange, dark purple - without hesitation, the Sorcerer chose two, uncorked the vials, and drank.

Magical preparations complete, Lorne stepped over the litter of bones and walked to the edge of the darkness.

Truth time. Jennet held her breath as the pebble of fear in her stomach turned to a boulder. What if Tam wasn’t good enough?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tam was barely conscious of Jennet hovering behind his chair. Please, don’t let his system cut out now. Jennet had set him a drastic challenge. But he would win it, impossible odds or no.

He took a deep breath and focused.

There was only the faint hiss of the wind in the plains grasses, the hollow footfalls of his Sorcerer as he approached the cave to confront Saberclaw. Tam made a quick check of his inventory, making sure his oh-crap items were in place - the things he’d need to win this. Extra health potion, blinding dust, one-use spectral shield. A cloth-wearer had to have tricks like this up his sleeve to survive most scrapes. Though a solo encounter with a Guardian-class beast hardly qualified as a scrape. More like a severe mutilation.

For a second the graphics wavered, rippling like a heat wave. Tam froze, waiting. Come on, system - hold together. It felt like his heart stopped too, until the image stabilized again. Just in time.

In the darkness of the cave, something growled. A red flash of light showed that Saberclaw had sensed a trespasser in his lair. The attack came without warning as the enormous cat rushed forward, a mass of striped and angry death. His growl turned into a roar as the beast lunged, sharp claws extended to rake the Sorcerer’s chest.

Adrenaline pumping through him, Tam waited until the last possible instant, then popped his shield. He cast an instant spell that slowed the cat a precious few milliseconds - enough time to lob a flaming ball of magefire into the cat’s face. Saberclaw yowled in fury, his long teeth shining and deadly.

Tam leapt to the side, but didn’t quite avoid a furious bite from those teeth. His life energy dipped and his character slowed down. Dimly, in the other world, he heard Jennet gasp. One trick gone. But he and the cat were even.

Using his mage abilities, he tried to keep his distance while still sending spells at his opponent. Not always successfully - the big cat got a few painful bites and swipes in on his character in return.

They were both around half health when Saberclaw’s eyes lit with an uncanny green glow. It was the sign he was about to use his special ability - an unavoidable stun that froze his victim in place. As soon as the stun wore off, the cat would pounce and shred his enemy to bits. Tam’s heart raced as his fingers gestured the next combo of moves. This had better work. It was the only thing he could think of.

He tossed the blinding powder, the bright flash distracting Saberclaw for an instant. Then… there was no avoiding this next part, no matter how much it hurt. With a pang, he summoned his favorite pet - the battle-hawk companion he’d won in a ferocious duel two years ago. The two of them had shared more adventures than he could count. But he’d have to sacrifice the hawk in order to win this fight.

“Goodbye, Bright,” he murmured as he sent his pet forward to certain death.

He yanked Lorne behind one of the jagged rocks at the entrance, getting out of line-of-sight as his golden companion winged straight for Saberclaw. The hawk let out a high, pained cry as the big cat’s eyes flared. Saberclaw’s evil green gaze pinned Bright to the cave floor.

Tam couldn’t just keep Lorne standing there - he had to make Bright’s death count. He stepped back into the cave and began his longest incantation. It was his most powerful spell, a fire-lance that would blast a serious hole in his opponent.

The cat ignored Tam and leapt on Bright, yowling with joy as he began to rip the bird to pieces. The hawk let out high, piteous cries as bits of golden feathers swirled in the air. Finally, Bright lay still, his broken body trapped under Saberclaw’s wicked paws.

The image blurred in front of Tam’s eyes - but this time it wasn’t a system problem. He blinked furiously, clearing his vision. The hollow ache in his chest from losing Bright joined all the other sorrows piled up there. Sure, it was just a game, but now he was alone. Again.

Tam swallowed. His spell tingled at his fingertips, the energy building, building...

“Now!” he shouted, flinging deadly fire at Saberclaw.

The beast lifted his snarling face just as Tam’s fire-lance hit. The force of it made Saberclaw stagger, and the smell of singed fur scorched Tam’s nose. But it wasn’t enough. The big cat recovered quickly, too quickly, and gathered himself to leap on the Sorcerer.

:WARNING. SYSTEM OVERLOAD. AUTO-SHUTDOWN IN TEN SECONDS:

The red letters etched across Tam’s vision, overriding the game’s graphics.

“No,” he breathed. “Not now.”

Despite the reactions coursing through him, his hands remained steady in the gloves. Although it wasn’t scorched fur he smelled. It was the metallic stench of burning electrical cables.

He had to finish this, and fast.

It was hard to throw incantations while taking serious damage. Every rake of claws and bite of fangs slowed Lorne’s spell-casting down, while his life energy continued to drain. If it got to zero, he was dead. Tam managed to shoot another flame-blast, but his Sorcerer was in trouble. Lorne was dying - and when he did, Tam would lose.

He got another instant spell off, then grabbed his health potion. It would buy him a little more life. Enough, if he were lucky, to outlast the big cat.

:WARNING. AUTO-SHUTDOWN IN FIVE SECONDS. SAVE WORK NOW:

Yeah, not likely. Save himself. His Sorcerer popped the potion.

Saberclaw pounced, and Tam drew his dagger. No more time for casting spells. Good thing he had spent time maxing this character’s weapon skills - though it went against all common sense to skill-up magic users. He only prayed Lorne would be strong enough.

Jab and rip. Slice and claw. Both Lorne and Saberclaw were almost dead. A sliver of life energy kept the Sorcerer on his feet, while the cat limped after him.

:TWO SECONDS:

Tam judged the timing and pulled his Sorcerer back, just missing a razor-sharp death swipe. Then he lunged in, the dagger piercing Saberclaw’s side. With a last yowl, the big cat staggered, then collapsed in a heap of fur and claws. Lorne fell to his knees, but the Sorcerer was still alive. The battle was over.

Victory!

:SHUTDOWN:

The helmet went dark, and Tam slowly pulled it off. His mind was ultra-clear - that gaming high he got whenever he beat impossible odds.

“You did it!”

Jennet had a huge smile on her face, and her blue eyes sparkled. If he hadn’t been sitting down he thought she would have thrown a big hug on him. Instead, she gripped his shoulder. Her touch was strong and warm.

“That was amazing,” she continued. “I’ve never seen anyone think so fast on their feet. And with your system going down and everything. Just, wow.”

He took a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It was a good fight.”

“Good?” Her expression was full of admiration, full of light, like the sun coming out from behind clouds. “You’re a prime game-player, Tam Linn.”

The praise made something inside him glow, and he didn’t know how to respond. It wouldn’t do to get used to this feeling.

“I should get you back to school.” He stood up, and her hand fell away from him, leaving only cool air behind. “My brother will be home soon, and I have to be here, or he might burn the place down.”

Jennet smiled again, as if he were joking. After a few seconds her smile faded. “All right. But Feyland is going to amaze you. You’ll be great at it. When can you come over to my place to sim? Tomorrow? Wednesday?”

“Maybe Thursday.” If Mom showed up, and he could get her back on her meds, then there might be a chance. He shrugged, though the fierce desire to see the new sim and play Feyland was scorching through him.

“Please, I really need your help.” She looked impatient, and worried. “Can’t you come any earlier?”

“No.” He let the word hang flatly between them.

He’d let her see his place, see him game. That was too much. No way was he going to explain the details of his life - details that would only horrify her sheltered little world-view.

“Well.” A frown gathered on her face. “Let me know as soon as you can. All right?”

“Sure.” He turned the still glowing flat-screen off, then shoved his hands in his pockets. When he got back, he’d be doing some major system repair. “Come on. Let’s get you back to school.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next days dragged. Jennet veered between elation that she’d finally, finally, found the gamer she needed, and frustration that he couldn’t play that instant.

She couldn’t expect him to understand her urgency - not when she hadn’t explained the problem to him. But the first step was getting him in-game. With his help, she was sure she could finally get deeper into Feyland.

During World History class on Thursday she couldn’t help but sneak glances at Tam. His hair was covering his eyes, as usual, and he didn’t look at her. Not once. That wasn’t good. Worry squeezed her lungs tight. When the bell rang, she took an extra long time packing up her satchel. Tam lagged behind too, and her breath eased.

“Well?” she asked as he paused by her desk. “Are we on for today?” We have to play. Please say yes.

“No.” He hunched his shoulders. “Maybe next week. See ya.”

“What… hey, wait up!” She reached for him as he stepped into the hallway, but he ignored her outstretched hand. He slipped into the crowd, seeming determined to get away. Disappointment raced through her as she scanned the students, trying to see which way he’d gone. How could he just leave like that?

“Don’t bother going after him,” said a voice at her shoulder.

Jennet turned to see Marny standing beside her. The big girl didn’t look friendly - but she didn’t look too mean, either.

“Hi, Marny.”

The girl waved down the hall to where Tam had disappeared. “Tam’s like that. He doesn’t explain things, so don’t even ask.”

Jennet folded her arms. “Why do you think I would ask him something, anyway?”

“Oh please.” Marny flicked her gaze up to the ceiling, then back to Jennet. “Obviously you’ve talked to him. Besides, he told me about you, too.”

Surprise jolted through her. “He did? What did he say?”

“Not much.” A look of irritation crossed Marny’s round face. “Even for Tam, he was remarkably quiet. I hope you’re not just messing with him.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Good.” Marny leaned forward. “The two of us go way back, and if you hurt him, you’ll be hurting too.”

“Okay.” Jennet held up her hands. “Message received. Are the two of you… umm, together?”

“No. Nothing like that. But he’s a good guy, and I don’t want to see some rich girl screwing with his head just because she can.”

“How do you know he’s not screwing with mine?” She was going to be late for her next class, but she didn’t care. “How come he can’t make plans? What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

“Hey.” Marny’s voice grew softer. “He’s got it rough. I bet he didn’t tell you about his mom.”

“All I know is he has a little brother.” And lived in a falling down shack in the worst part of town. And was a flawless gamer.

“Well, it’s his life. He can tell you if he wants. But it’s complicated.”

Like anyone’s life was simple. A piece of her soul was trapped in a computer game and it was literally killing her. How was that for complicated?

There had to be some way to make this work - some way to break Tam free from his life for at least an afternoon. He had to come over and play Feyland on the Full-D. She had to get back in-game, before it was too late.

She looked at Marny. “Do you ever… babysit?”

“No.” Marny’s eyes widened. “No way. I am not watching that crazy kid brother of his so the two of you can go mess around together.”

Heat rushed into Jennet’s cheeks. “I’m not interested in him like that.”

“Well, you’re interested somehow.”

Jennet opened her hands. “There’s stuff I can’t explain, either.”

“Ah. Are you sure you don’t have some kind of pervy fixation?” Speculation flashed in Marny’s dark brown eyes. “Those questions. About gaming. Why did you ask me?”

“I figured you pay attention.”

“Really.” Marny’s expression hardened. “Why’s that?”

“For one thing, you seemed like the smartest person in the Gaming Club. And you’re different.”

Marny’s mouth twisted. “Different. That’s not quite a compliment.”

“Well, it’s not an insult, either.” Jennet glanced down the hall, where the parade of look-alike students was starting to thin out. “Especially at Crestview.”

“Heh.” A half-smile ghosted across Marny’s face. “I—” The blare of the second bell cut through whatever she had been about to say. She hefted her battered purple backpack onto her shoulder. “Gotta run. See you later, Fancy-girl.”

The way she said the words, they weren’t quite an insult, either. There had been an undercurrent of approval in the big girl’s voice. Maybe, just maybe….

Marny stopped partway down the hall and swung around. She pointed at Jennet. “I’m not making any promises. But - make sure you’re free tomorrow after school.”

CHAPTER NINE

Tam couldn’t believe it. The clamor of the lunchroom faded as he blinked at Marny. “Really? You’ll watch the Bug this afternoon so I can go to Jennet’s? That’s the nicest—”

“Shut up, or I’ll take my offer back. And it’s only the once, clear?” She made a face. “If your little brother gets too crazy, I’m calling the cops.”

As if the police would come out to the Exe for anything less than murder. Maybe not even then.

“Ok.” Tam fished in his pack for the emergency cash he kept tucked away. He held the money out to Marny. “You’ll need this.”

“I’m not taking your money!” She sounded offended. “Do you think I look like a babysitter? I’m doing this out of friendship.”

“I know.” He waved the cash. “But you’re going to need to get some stuff at the store to keep the Bug occupied. Sugar Crunchies - the big box. And the new Manza-boy comic.”

“That had better work.” She took the money. “I have to be home by six, though. So whatever it is you and Miss Fancy-girl are up to, be done by then. And Tam,” her expression softened, “be careful, right?”

“Hey. It’s not like I’m going to go rob a bank or anything. She’s just showing me a new sim-system.”

“She says.”

“I don’t think she’s lying.” He didn’t think Jennet’s appreciation for his game-playing had been faked, either.

Marny narrowed her eyes at him. “Something else is going on, Tam. There’s something not normal about this.”

“What, that one of them would want to spend time with me?” That stung, though it wasn’t anything he hadn’t thought before. Jennet’s interest was hard to explain. Except that it had something to do with gaming, the one thing he was really good at. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Her lips pulled into a frown. “Just - pay attention.”

“I always do.”

It was hard not to be overwhelmed as he slid into Jennet’s chauffeured grav-car after school. The interior smelled like status and money, and the seats were more comfortable than his own bed. Tam glanced over the divider as the chauffeur manipulated the shiny controls on the dash. How would it feel to drive this thing, to glide, frictionless, over the gridded roads?

“Here.” Jennet settled beside him and held out a shiny plastic card attached to a clip. “Your visitor’s badge. You’ll have to wear it in The View, so the sensors don’t go off.”

“Nice.” He took it, the holograph of VirtuMax’s company logo shimmering as it caught the light.

Of course, there had to be a system to let the peons in. Cleaning and maintenance people had to have controlled access to the rich people’s world, after all. He took a pinch of his shirt and attached the badge. It hung crooked, but he didn’t care.

He glanced at Jennet, who looked a bit embarrassed. Maybe it was the first time she’d had to provide one of her ‘friends’ with an access badge.

“It’s good for two weeks,” she said. “I got you a long pass, just in case. Although I need to be with you while you’re inside the walls, since it’s got a low security clearance.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to set off any alarms.” He felt like a sheep. A criminal one.

She cleared her throat and went for an obvious change of subject. “Anyway, I’m glad you could come today. Marny is a pearl.”

“I wouldn’t call her that. But yeah.”

The car was moving so smoothly, Tam felt like they were standing still. He glanced out the window, just to check. The neighborhood they were going through was about a hundred times cleaner than the Exe. No falling-down buildings or trash lining the streets. People here even had green lawns with neatly-trimmed bushes instead of scrappy, bare dirt where not even weeds grew.

“Here we are,” Jennet said as the car whished under a gleaming plas-metal arch. The company logo gleamed under the words proudly etched in the arch. The View.

“Is there one?” Tam turned to look out the back window as they passed through.

The archway of the View framed the cloudy sky - nothing special. The buildings scrolling past were huge and pristine, but the neighborhood felt eerie. It took a moment for him to identify why. There was no one in sight. No little kids playing on the perfectly groomed lawns. No lanky teens shooting hoops or riding g-boards. Not a single person. It was emptier than a computer game, where at least the NPCs were always there, moving around and making the world look occupied.

“A view?” Jennet asked. “Yes. The houses in the back have one. You’ll see.” She picked up her satchel and looked out the window in an expectant way.

Tam grabbed his pack as the car slid to a perfect stop and the door hissed open. Even the air in The View seemed different. Cleaner. Fresher. He followed Jennet out of the car, then stuck his head back in.

“Thanks for the ride,” he told the chauffeur. The man looked mildly startled, and then gave him a nod.

“Yes, thanks, George,” Jennet said, an undertone of excitement in her voice. “Come on, Tam. I can hardly wait to show you the set-up. This way.”

As if there could be any other way than the wide stone path leading to the fanciest house Tam had ever seen. No, not a house. A mansion. The place was four stories high, with balconies that jutted out on the upper levels and dozens of windows. There was even a fountain in the front, a lit-up sparkle and cascade of water. It looked like something from a mall.

Jennet held her wrist up to the front door and it opened with a soft chime. She threw a glance over her shoulder, and Tam hurried to follow her.

“Welcome home, Jennet,” a perfectly modulated female voice said as they stepped over the threshold. “You have brought a visitor. Staff has been notified.”

“Right,” Jennet said. “Let Marie know we’ll be up in the game-room.”

“Confirmed.”

Tam looked around, trying to be nonchalant. The warmly-lit foyer was empty, except for the two of them. “Is that… your house computer?”

He’d heard of fully-wired houses, but never imagined what it might be like to actually live in one. It was interesting - and creepy. Jennet didn’t stand much chance of sneaking out at night, did she?

“Yes,” she said. “Dad calls the computer HANA - House Activated Network Assistant.” She set her satchel on the floor and started up the wide stairs.

“Who’s Marie?” Tam trailed after her. He was afraid to touch anything in this pristine, clean-smelling place. Half-turning, he checked to make sure he wasn’t leaving grimy footprints on the pale carpet.

“Marie’s the house manager. She makes sure that everything is working smoothly, meals are done on time, that kind of thing.”

“How big is your family?” He knew almost nothing about Jennet’s life. Then again, she knew almost nothing about his, either, and he was happy to keep it that way.

“It’s just me and my dad,” Jennet said. “My mom left when I was a kid.” Her words rang hollowly in the quiet corridor. All the doors were closed, except the tall double-doors at the end.

Really? A fully-wired house and a ‘manager’ just for Jennet and her Dad. Good thing she hadn’t seen his sorry house - the living room that doubled as bedroom for both him and the Bug, the scrappy furniture, the tiny kitchen. The distance between his house and Jennet’s felt like the distance between galaxies. And just as unbridgeable. The only thing that kept him from turning around and going back to the Exe was the enticing promise of the Full-D system.

She led him through, then shut the doors behind them. “Here we are - the gaming room. Complete with Full-D.”

Tam’s feet stopped moving. He was dimly aware of other sim systems in the room, a bank of screens against the far wall, but all he could do was blink at the simulator right in front of him. Wait - the two simulators.

The helmets gleamed silver. The chairs were wide and comfortable, upholstered in something that was probably real leather. The gloves were studded with LEDs that shone like jewels.

“Yeah.” The word escaped from between his lips.

“So.” Jennet’s voice dropped to a whisper and she pushed at the plush carpet with one foot. “Don’t tell anybody about this, okay?”

He pulled his gaze from the sim-systems, trying to ignore the stab of hurt lancing through him. Of course she wouldn’t want people to know that he’d been invited over. Trash from the Exe sullying her perfect house.

“What, that I came to your house?” The words left a sour taste in his mouth. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“No, no. I mean, don’t tell anybody about the Full-D system. Nobody except corporate is supposed to see it. And…” she stepped closer to him, “nobody is supposed to know about Feyland. Not even me. All right?”

Her blue eyes stared into his, pleading, and his heartbeat was suddenly louder in his ears. “I won’t tell.”

“Not even Marny.”

“Ok. She’s not interested in simming anyway.”

Jennet nodded and the urgency in her eyes faded. “Then come take a look.”

Tam stepped up to the systems. He slid his fingers over the top of one helmet, the plas-metal cool and smooth under his touch. Excitement began shooting through his nerves like crazy firecrackers. He hoped Jennet couldn’t tell how sparked he was.

The Full-D system. Here, real, and within his reach.

“See this?” She flipped a switch beside the systems, and a low buzz filled the air.

“What is it?”

“The scrambler. To make sure no corporate spies - or hackbots - can tell what’s going on in here.”

“That’s…” totally insane. But apparently not, since here it was.

Tam picked up one of the gloves. It felt heavy and expensive in his hand. He could hardly wait to see what the game was like. Feyland. The syllables rolled silently down his tongue.

“Miss Jennet?” There was a knock, and then the door to the hallway swung open to reveal a dark-haired woman in a suit. She was holding a tray of food. “I brought you some sandwiches.”

“Oh, hi, Marie. Thanks,” Jennet said, her voice pitched higher than usual. She gave Tam a look he couldn’t decipher.

He put the glove down, and silence settled awkwardly in the spaces between them as Marie put the tray on a nearby table.

She turned and raised her eyebrows at Jennet. “You have brought home a guest?”

“Um, yes,” Jennet said. “This is Tam. From school. He likes to game, so I thought I’d give him a peek at the Full-D.”

The woman pinned Tam with her gaze. She looked down at his battered boots, then back up, taking in every rip and fray in his secondhand clothing. The suspicion in her eyes only deepened, like she expected him to pull a tab of spray out of his back pocket and start tagging the nearest wall.

“I see.” Her voice was clipped, with an accent he couldn’t identify. “If he is going to be a regular visitor, we’ll need to run a thorough security clearance.”

Jennet turned wide eyes to him, as if she feared he had a criminal record just waiting to be discovered. “Oh! Well, I’m sure—”

“No problem.” Tam stepped forward. “Do you need fingerprints or something?”

He knew he was clean. Taking care of Mom and the Bug didn’t leave much time for getting wild, even if he leaned that way. And yeah, he’d broken the law before, out of necessity - but in the Exe the rules didn’t matter. Only survival. And not getting caught. He was good at both.

The house manager flicked her gaze up to his face. “That would be best. Fingerprints.”

“How about later,” Jennet said, with a too-bright smile. “It can wait til next time, right?”

Marie’s eyebrows gathered into a frown, but she nodded. “Very well. I will be downstairs. Tell HANA if there is anything more you need.” She stepped into the hallway and gave Tam one last, skeptical look before closing the door behind her.

“Whew.” Jennet rolled her eyes. “I didn’t expect Marie herself. Usually one of the maids brings up snacks.”

One of the maids? He couldn’t imagine. “Obviously she wanted to see what kind of spoilage you’re bringing home.”

As if it wasn’t obvious. The Exe clung to him, a grungy cloud there was no escaping. Even if his boots had been clean and his hair neatly cut, he couldn’t get away from it, from who he was.

Except in-game. He shot a glance at the Full-D systems, anticipation curling and uncurling through him again.

“You’re not spoilage,” Jennet said. Then she tilted her head, giving him a long, level look. “I think you’re fine how you are.”

A tiny flame of a smile warmed him inside, though he tried not to let it show. “Ok, then. Let’s play.”

She went to the door and turned the lock with a decisive click, then grabbed a couple sandwiches off the tray. “Here. Marie gets mad if her food isn’t eaten.”

“I’d hate to see what she’s like mad.” Regular Marie had been bad enough.

He took a big bite of sandwich - real meat, and crisp, fresh lettuce instead of Vegipro. It tasted great, and he never turned down free food.

“Finish that up and grab a brownie,” Jennet said. “I’ll get us ready. There’s a sink in the corner when you’re done snacking.”

The quiet hum of the Full-D systems vibrated the air. Tam bolted down a brownie, taking a second to savor the rich chocolate on his tongue, then went to wipe his hands. He didn’t want to get smears on the shiny equipment, after all.

“Ready.” So ready.

He felt like a kid on his birthday, with a million presents waiting, all wrapped in glittery paper. In one minute he was going to tear into them, and each one would be exactly what he’d wanted.

“Come on, then.” Jennet settled into one of the chairs. She gave him a smile that trembled at the edges, then slid on her gloves. “Gear up. When you get to the main screen, it’s the F icon from the menu. I’ll see you in there!” The helmet’s visor covered her smile, dimming it from bright noon to moonlight.

Tam eased into the chair. It welcomed him with a soft and comfortable embrace. He pulled on the helmet and slipped his hands into the gloves. Excitement filled his lungs, thick and sweet, like honey.

Game time.

CHAPTER TEN

The game helmet was like wearing air - so comfortable, he barely felt it. Tam let out his breath as the main menu lit up in front of his eyes. The resolution was about a hundred times clearer than on his system. No fuzzy graphics, no weird color shifts or lines across his vision. It felt like the images were inside his brain.

The F icon glowed, softly golden, looking like it was made of scrolled flame. It took only the slightest flex of his finger to select it. These gloves were prime. Super responsive - nothing like his thrashed-out gear. The menu faded out, replaced with blinking words:

Feyland: A VirtuMax Production

Alpha 1.5.0486

This was going to be incredible.

The visor-screen went dark. Faint music began playing, mysterious and chiming. Light slowly etched across his vision, a delicate tracery like webs or tree branches. He hoped, rather desperately, that this wasn’t one of those girly games. But if Jennet needed his help, he’d do his best - even if it meant defeating sparkly pink dragons.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND

The words unfurled across the screen. The letters glowed a rich gold that deepened to crimson, then faded to grey, as though they had burned down to ash. The music twisted, and the dim letters suddenly whirled up into a flurry of dark-edged leaves. Behind them Tam thought he saw a pair of eyes watching from the shadows, but before he could be sure, the leaves swirled once again. This time, the screen cleared to show something much more familiar: a character-creator interface.

“Have you made your avatar yet?” Jennet’s voice came clearly through the headset. It sounded like she was standing right next to him.

“Just about to.” He studied the choices, trying to get a feel for the game’s design, the various roles people could play. Was Feyland really going to be as different as he hoped?

Spellweaver - no, not another magic user.

Bard - interesting, but obviously not a heavy combat class. He figured Jennet would need a serious warrior-type.

“Got any thoughts on this?” he asked.

“How about a Knight?” she replied, confirming his guess.

Lifting his index finger, he highlighted the choice.

KNIGHT - Skilled at feats of arms, noble, courageous, and true, the Knight can best almost any enemy in battle. Only magic can bring this hero to his knees - but even then, the Knight’s sword may prove of greater power.

Below the description stood a basic character, ready to be modified to his specifications. He scrolled through the options, adding more detail to the avatar. His Knight would be tall, of course, and strong. But not bulging with too much muscle - quickness could usually beat strength, if there was room to move. Thick dark hair, and, yeah, that heroic-looking chin. Blue eyes, but not quite that close together. With another flick of his finger, he put the final touches on his new self.

The character bounced slightly up and down, and Tam smiled to himself. Now for a name. Roland? No, that seemed too stuffy. He needed another anagram. Wernin? Newrin – yeah.

He double-clicked his thumb and index finger, the universal glove command to bring up the keyboard. Though he preferred voice and finger commands, he could type well enough when he had to. He entered the name, Newrin, then vanished the keyboard interface. Yes, his Knight looked good, clad in shiny silver armor with a huge sword at his side and a grim-looking shield strapped to his back.

Character complete. Enter game?

He pulled in a breath, then tipped his thumb up. Yes.

A fanfare of trumpets blared as his vision went golden. There was an odd, queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. The sandwich and brownie weren’t sitting too well.

Then all discomfort was forgotten as Tam got his first glimpse of Feyland.

He found himself standing in a clearing surrounded by white-barked trees. The sky was bright blue overhead, the grass a vivid green. Wind moved across the leaves of the trees, leaving flashes of shimmering silver as they rustled in its wake. A bird swooped past him, singing, and he could practically feel the warm air against his face. He glanced around, looking for Jennet, and saw he was in the middle of a circle of pale mushrooms.

Beside him, the air glowed brightly, and Jennet suddenly appeared. She was wearing a green dress that looked like something from the Middle Ages, but fancier. Her hair was intricately braided, and she carried a tall oaken staff with a white glowing crystal set in the end. Other than that she looked almost exactly like herself - her features a touch sharper, her eyes brighter.

“We’re in!” She smiled at him. “Welcome to the game, Tam. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” He took an experimental step forward.

“Careful! Don’t crush the fairy ring.”

“The - oh.” He eyed the mushrooms surrounding them. “Ok. How do you change the camera angle to a different POV? I’m not used to gaming in first person.”

An anxious line appeared across her forehead. “I should have explained. You stay in your character - it’s part of the immersive experience. The designers decided you should always see through your character’s eyes, hear through their ears - and feel,” she reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek, “what your character feels.”

“I think I actually felt that.” He moved his shoulders. The armor weighed practically nothing, but he could still feel it. Could feel the wind, too, tickling through his hair. “Those are some serious advances in game tech.”

Her gaze dropped to the rich green grass beneath their feet. “Yes. I told you it was different from anything you’ve ever played. But don’t worry. The devs made sure to dial the uncomfortable stuff way back. You won’t feel much pain here.”

“I just wanted to see myself. Check out my gear and stuff.”

“Of course. You can draw your sword and enter combat stance by—” She broke off, laughing, as he found the control movement before she could explain. “Very good.” There was admiration in her voice, and something that sounded like hope.

“It’s just a pull-back. Easy enough.”

He swished the sword through the air a few times, and then re-sheathed it. His shield had immediately appeared, strapped to his left arm, as soon as his weapon was drawn.

She cocked her head and examined him a moment. “Hey, I didn’t know you had green eyes. Your hair is always in your face, you know.”

“Huh. I thought I chose blue.” Hadn’t he? He was sure of it.

“Well, the game still has some bugs. You could say it has a mind of its own.” She laughed again, but there was a forced edge to it. “Ready to quest? As soon as we step out of the fairy ring, the creatures of the world will be able to interact with us. The starting lands are pretty easy to handle, though. And you’ll pick it up quickly, I’m sure.”

“Great. Let’s go.” He took a step forward then, for fun, leaped over the boundary of mushrooms.

This gaming system was really amazing. He no sooner thought of the movement than the sim translated it to his character. There must be some kind of complicated neuro-interface built into the gear. Every other system he’d played had a response-time lag. With his own, he had to rely a lot more on manual commands - specific combinations of hand and finger gestures that sent instructions to the game. This, though, was practically powered by thought alone. It made him giddy.

Jennet stepped out of the ring, her movements graceful, then waved to a mossy path leading between the trees.

“The game begins this way,” she said, starting down the path.

Branches rustled behind them, and Tam whirled, sword at the ready. Nobody was visible, but high laughter chimed from between the leaves.

“Who’s there?” he called.

“It’s just the pixies,” Jennet said. “Don’t worry about them - they’re harmless. Come on.”

Tam sheathed his weapon and followed Jennet between the pale tree trunks. Soon the forest thinned and beyond the tree-line he glimpsed a rise of small green hills. At the very edge of the wood was a house, one of those English-cottage looking places with white walls and a thatched roof. Sitting on the doorstep was the ugliest little man Tam had ever seen.

His nose was enormous, a jutting cliff that overshadowed his dark eyes and thin lips. The only things larger than his nose were his two ears, great ugly flaps of skin on either side of his head. He was covered in a pelt of coarse brown hair, his only clothing a tattered cloth tied about his waist. He smelled, too, like moldy earth and old wood-smoke.

Jennet stopped in front of the creature. A clay bowl filled with what looked like milk appeared between her hands, and she knelt and placed it on the weathered step.

“Greetings, Fynnod,” she said. Then she leaned toward Tam and spoke softly. “He’s a Brownie - they like milk. I’ll try and explain the game lore to you as we go along.”

Tam nodded. “Right.”

“Fair Jennet.” The little man’s voice was hoarse, as though he were unused to speaking. “You return - with a companion. Will you continue further into the realm?”

“Yes,” she said.

Fynnod tilted his head up and looked at Tam. Something murky moved in his eyes. “Knight. Are you brave enough to accept the first quest?”

“Sure,” Tam said.

Every game had its beginner quests. Generally they were pretty easy. They started a storyline, and gave you a chance to practice your abilities and get comfortable in your new surroundings.

The brown man remained silent, and Jennet cleared her throat. When Tam turned to look at her, she nodded her head up and down and mouthed the word yes. Oh, right - a role-playing script. RP wasn’t his favorite, but it looked like “sure” hadn’t been coded into Fynnod’s list of acceptable replies.

“Yes, I accept your quest,” Tam said.

The little man let out a cackle. “Very good.” He reached into a lumpy bag beside him. “Take this sieve, and fill it with water from the river. When you return it to me, I will grant you passage to the next level.”

Tam took the object from the Brownie. It looked like an old-fashioned strainer. “Fill this with water, huh?”

Well, he’d had odder quests, but he’d hoped this first one would involve fighting. He really wanted to try out his moves.

Suddenly the sieve disappeared and his sword was in his hand, the blade flashing in the sunshine.

“Ack!” Fynnod leaped up from the step, overturning the bowl in his haste. “Take your cold iron and be gone from me!” He shook his fist at Tam, and then scuttled into the cottage.

“Wait. You didn’t drink your milk—” Jennet said, but the heavy wooden door slammed shut on her words. “Tam.” She turned to him. “You need to be careful. Remember, the game responds to the slightest movements. Were you thinking about battle?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He re-sheathed his weapon. “I didn’t mean to frighten him.”

She frowned. “A lot of the creatures here don’t like iron or steel - your sword affects things just by being drawn.”

“Got it. Easy on the swordplay.” He gestured to the closed door. “Will he be back?”

“No. Not until we return with the quest complete.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t actually done this one before.”

“And the milk?” He glanced at the doorstep. The liquid had seeped into the stone, leaving a dark stain. “Was that bad?”

Jennet didn’t look too happy. “We were supposed to get Fynnod’s blessing. Without it… I’m not sure what will happen.”

She turned to look out over the green hills, and Tam stared at the cottage. He hated feeling like he’d messed things up already. Here he was, usually a prime gamer, and he’d screwed up the first quest. Nice going.

The breeze kicked up, and he turned to look at Jennet. A strand of her pale hair blew against her cheek. From now on he was going to do his best. He wanted to impress her. Wanted her to smile at him again, the way she had when he’d beat Saberclaw, so he could carry the warmth of that inside himself for a little while.

A dark shadow crawled over the landscape, dimming the sunlight. He peered at the hills. Something was coming toward them - fast.

“Tam?” Jennet sounded scared. “We’ve got company.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The thing in the shadows became clear as it got closer - a huge black horse, galloping toward them. On its back was a forbidding-looking knight, wearing armor as dark as his steed. A wicked helm concealed the rider’s face.

Pulse quickening, Tam set his hand on the hilt of his sword. “First fight?”

Not a pleasant thought - he would feel better if he’d had at least some experience with combat in the game. Frightening the hairy man with his blade didn’t count.

Jennet shifted her grasp on the staff. Her cheeks were pale. “The Black Knight. He… he shouldn’t be here. Usually he’s much deeper in the game.”

“That sounds bad.” He squinted at the approaching rider. “What’s that, in front of the saddle?”

There was a small figure perched on the horse’s neck, seemingly unafraid of either its precarious position or the imposing knight just behind. As they drew close, the creature scrambled forward, using fistfuls of mane to pull himself up until he was nearly standing on the horse’s head.

The thundering of hooves ceased as the Black Knight brought his mount to a halt directly in front of them. The spritely creature riding in front lifted one stick-like arm in a wave, the gossamer tatters of his clothing following the movement.

“Well met, Fair Jennet,” he said in a clear, high voice. He grinned at them from his vantage point, his brown eyes sparkling. “And to this brave yet untried champion. Greetings, Tamlin.”

Tam blinked up at the creature. “It’s, er, Newrin.”

Wasn’t it? Seemed like the character creation in this game was badly bugged. That’s what he got for playing the beta version. Still, it was very weird that the little creature addressed him by name.

“Well met, Puck.” Jennet made a small curtsey, but Tam could see her hands trembling. “What brings you so far from the pleasures of court?”

The sprite folded his arms. “The queen desires to know who has entered the realm. I come with a message - and a warning.”

Behind Puck, the knight sat motionless, as though he were an inanimate object. It was eerie. Usually the devs built in some kind of movement to in-game characters. Maybe they had missed coding this one.

“What message does the queen have for us?” Jennet asked, her voice higher-pitched than usual.

Tam was glad to let her do the talking - she knew the rules, after all. It was good to get a bit of the storyline, even though it seemed disjointed. Was this queen the final boss they would have to defeat to win the game?

“She bids you remember that the realm does not give up its secrets lightly.” Puck leaped, making a sudden somersault from the horse’s head, and caught the top of Jennet’s staff. He clung there, hovering before them, and lowered his impish voice. “It is never simple to regain what was lost.”

“I know.” Jennet sounded way more unhappy than Tam would have expected from a bit of scripted dialogue. “Tell the queen I have come for what is mine.”

She shook her staff, as if to dislodge the sprite, and Puck frowned at her. “Your champion still must prove himself, foolish Jennet.”

“He will,” she said, sending Tam an anxious look.

“Ha!” The sprite laughed, and the sound sent prickles down the back of Tam’s neck. “Then he may do so this instant. Black Knight, I summon thee to battle!”

There was a blur of motion, and suddenly the Black Knight was standing before them, menace emanating from his faceless visor. His black sword hissed out of the sheath, and Tam leaped forward, making sure he was between Jennet and the knight. He drew his own weapon - barely in time. Dark metal clanged against silver, the shock jarring him to the teeth.

The knight feinted left, then thrust forward with a strength that sent Tam stumbling back. Whoa - for a first fight, this game was pretty serious. Behind him, Jennet let out a cry, but all Tam’s attention was focused on his adversary. He had a feeling he couldn’t afford to lose this fight, but how could he possibly win?

He stabbed at the knight, who blocked his sword with a bone-shaking counterstroke. Damn, the guy wasn’t even using a shield. A series of hard blows rained down on Tam. Breath scraping his throat, he fell back under the power of that relentless assault. His shield arm began to ache from the jarring impact of the Black Knight’s blade.

Slowly, the knight pressed forward. None of Tam’s attacks seemed to touch him, though he was pretty sure he’d dented the guy’s armor in a couple places. Tam couldn’t let him get to Jennet. He risked a quick glance at her, to see that she was somehow frozen in a block of clear ice. Her staff was raised and her mouth was open, as if she’d been caught mid-yell.

Clang! Another blow to his shield forced Tam’s attention back to the battle. Ok. This was just an in-game fight. An intense one, sure, but there was a pattern here. Every game had a certain level of predictability, if you paid enough attention.

One, two, three sweeping strikes, then the Black Knight lifted his sword for an overhand slice. It wasn’t the first time the knight had made that series of moves. Tam scrambled out of the way, saving his strength. He wouldn’t attack again until the moment was right - but he still had to keep those deadly sword strokes at bay. He hoped his shield wouldn’t crack under the force of those massive blows.

The knight’s sword slid across his shield, then continued slicing down. Ow! The blade nicked him in the vulnerable area just above his gauntlets. It didn’t feel like a dangerous cut, but it stung. Tam sucked in his breath and kept fighting, kept watching. That combo of moves had to come soon.

Sure enough, after another punishing rain of strikes, the knight began that same series of swings Tam had seen before. This was it - his opening. He backed up and took a firm grip on his sword.

Now! The knight lifted his sword for the overhand attack, and Tam lunged forward with all his strength, the tip of his blade pointed straight toward the Black Knight’s chest.

His sword connected with a hollow thunk, then stuck right in the center of the knight’s armor. The Black Knight froze in place.

Silence descended, marred only by Tam’s ragged breaths. Slowly, he pulled his blade free. It was unmarked by blood, but there was a hole in the knight’s chest plate. Had he won?

“Tamlin,” the Black Knight said, his voice low and grave. “First fight to you.” He raised his sword in a half-salute. Then, just as suddenly as he had dismounted, he was once again astride his horse.

“Well well!” Puck cried, a merry note in his voice. “A fight fairly won.” He gestured at Jennet. The ice block cracked open, and she took a quick, stumbling step forward.

She glared at the sprite. “Unfair! You didn’t need to—”

“Of a surety, I did.” Puck swung about at the end of her staff. “A noble impulse, to aid your champion, but forbidden nonetheless. But you, Tamlin…”

“Yes?” He sheathed his sword, but kept his hand resting lightly on the hilt.

“You are a truer champion than I would have guessed. Well fought, indeed. And now, in parting, I have a gift to bestow on you.” He brought one cupped hand to his mouth and puffed.

Glittering dust blew across Tam’s face.

“What the…?” He coughed and took a step backward.

Through blurred vision, he saw the little creature vault back onto the horse. In one smooth motion, the knight turned his steed and they galloped away, Puck’s mischievous laughter trailing behind.

“What was that?” Tam rubbed his eyes. “Was he trying to blind me or something?” Things slowly started coming back into focus, and he let out a breath.

“Fairy dust,” Jennet said. “It usually confers some kind of gift. I guess we’ll have to wait and see what, exactly. That is so like Puck.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Tam - you were prime, fighting the Black Knight like that. I would have helped, but,” she made a face, “you saw what Puck did. You didn’t need my help, though. You did great on your own.”

He shrugged, though pride warmed him through. “If I won, that was a weird way to show it. Usually stuff dies at the end, you know?”

“Feyland is, well… it’s unique.”

“Yeah - I’m gathering that.” He was also getting the feeling Jennet hadn’t told him a few important things about how Feyland worked. There was a totally different mood to this game, and he couldn’t quite figure it. Probably as they kept questing it would get clearer to him, but right now it was hard to sort. “Is Puck on our side?”

She tilted her head. “Puck is sort of a free agent, from what I’ve seen. Sometimes he helps with quests. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

“Speaking of quests - about this fetching water in a sieve…”

“What about it?”

“Where is my sieve? How does the inventory system work in here?”

“Oh - I should have explained earlier. Sorry. I was just so excited to get you in-game.” She gave him a repentant look. “Basically, you think of the thing you need, say the name, and it appears.”

“Anything? That’s a pretty advanced database.”

Jennet nodded. “There’s a couple catches, though. You can’t summon anything while you’re in combat. And the main thing is, calling anything saps your energy for a little while afterward, makes you vulnerable. The more complicated the item, the longer the recovery.” She glanced around. “Now is probably an okay time to try it, though.”

“Ok. Sieve.” He blinked in surprise as the metal mesh bowl appeared in his hands. A second later, a wave of weariness washed over him, weighting his arms and legs. “Now how do I get rid of it?”

“That’s easy –imagine your hands empty again and it will dematerialize.”

Sure enough, the sieve disappeared as soon as he imagined it gone. Freaky.

“Can I try some other stuff?”

“Sure,” she said. “Just don’t tire yourself out too much.”

“What about … Chocolate-chip cookies. The big ones, with lots of chips.” A stack appeared in Tam’s upturned hand. “Hey - these look great.”

He let himself collapse, cross-legged, on the ground, then lifted a cookie to his mouth. The interface was so good, he swore he could taste it. Except…

“These cookies taste like bananas,” he said.

“Yeah.” Jennet shook her head. “Apparently that’s the synthesist’s favorite flavor. They’re working on it, but right now, everything in-game tastes the same.”

He swallowed. “Good thing I tried it with cookies. I’d hate to take a big bite of banana-flavored pizza.”

She laughed, and the sound felt like warm rain on his skin. Tam liked the way she looked when she smiled. Maybe this playing together was going to work out, after all. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said the game was hard and she needed help. His help.

“That reminds me,” she said, her expression growing sober. “Except for food you summon, don’t eat or drink anything that someone here gives you.”

“No candy from strangers. I get it.”

“No, really.” She knelt to face him, her blue eyes serious. “Promise me, out loud.”

He vanished the cookies. Already he was feeling better - ready to get to their quest. “All right. I won’t eat or drink stuff that people here give me.”

“People or creatures. Promise it.”

“Fine. I won’t eat or drink anything that people or creatures give me. I promise.” As he spoke the last word, the air vibrated, as though somewhere far off a bell had tolled.

Jennet nodded. “Good. It’s a true pledge.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jennet glanced at Tam. She didn’t want to explain that he could get trapped in-world if he ate anything here. That would open up an entire barrel of worms that she wasn’t ready to talk about now. If ever.

She exhaled, letting the last of the fear leave her lungs, and pulled in a deep breath of sweet air. This first level of Feyland was supposed to be safe. She’d brought him in without much explanation because they weren’t supposed to get into any trouble at the beginning. Boy had she been wrong about that.

Nothing was going the way she’d planned. The elation of finally making it back in-game and picking up a quest that would lead to the next level had quickly curdled to fear when the Black Knight had shown up. She’d been sure he was going to pound Tam into the ground, then turn and fling her back outside the borders of Feyland.

But thanks to her champion, that hadn’t happened.

Tam had bested the Black Knight. She had been so afraid. So proud. She wished she could have helped, instead of being bound into frustrating immobility by Puck, but it made crazy sense. It was Tam’s test, after all.

“So, which way is the river?” Tam asked. He turned in a slow circle and the sunlight glinted off his armor.

She should call it now, and send him home. He’d done what he was supposed to - helped her reactivate the game quests. She could handle it from here. Besides, the Dark Queen was dangerous. It was Jennet’s responsibility to make sure Tam didn’t get too deep in-world.

“Well… we should probably log off.”

“What?” He turned to her, surprise in his green eyes. “We can’t just quit now. We have a quest to complete. Besides, I’m having fun.”

“Fun. Right.” She shook her head. Her idea of fun didn’t include being pummeled by ferocious knights. But then, guys were different that way.

Would it hurt if he came with her a little further? If they completed the quest together? It would be quick and easy, and it was so nice to have someone along. Someone strong. Someone she could trust.

“Come on, Jennet,” he said. “Let’s keep going.”

“All right,” she said, and was rewarded by a flash of his smile. “I think the river is this direction. There should be a trail.”

She took a firm grip on her staff and set off, away from Fynnod’s quiet cottage. The grasses around them swayed in the wind, and the sky was once more clear and bright.

Tam strode beside her, glancing to either side. “This is really tight world-building. Though I’m glad everything doesn’t smell like bananas too. Hey.” He paused. “Do you hear that?”

She cocked her head, but heard only the breeze rustling in the tall grass, birds chirping. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Someone’s calling for help.” He set his hand to his sword and turned to their left. “This way. Come on.”

“Tam, wait. Things here aren’t always what they seem…” She was talking to his back.

Stifling a sigh, she hurried after him. He was a good hero, but couldn’t he be a little more cautious? Then again, he didn’t truly understand what they were dealing with. And whose fault was that?

Guilt twisted through her.

All right. As soon as they got out, she’d talk to him and explain how, exactly, Feyland was dangerous. Whether or not he’d believe her - well, that was a risk she had to take.

She caught up to Tam, who was turning a slow circle in the waist-high grass.

“I hear a voice,” he said, a note of frustration in his tone, “but there’s nobody here.”

Jennet lifted her shoulders. “Feyland can be strange that way. Things don’t always make sense. Come on, I see the trail. Don’t you want to finish our quest?”

“Wait.” He held up a hand, and then a startled look crossed his face. “Really? You are? Alright, let me see.”

She had the feeling he wasn’t talking to her - but she still didn’t hear anything except some bird calling nearby.

Tam dropped to his knees and began parting the grasses around them. “Look, here he is.”

“What? Who?” She peered over his shoulder.

He’d uncovered a hollow in the grasses, and there was something moving there. It was a small brown sparrow, flapping its wings desperately, but going nowhere. She bent forward, to see that one delicate foot was caught in a tiny snare. Poor thing.

“Shh,” Tam said, holding out one hand toward the bird. “Don’t be scared. We’ll get you out of this, no problem.”

“Is this who you heard calling for help? I mean, obviously he needs some assistance, but…”

“Yeah.” Tam’s nimble fingers worked on the twine that bound the bird, while a series of tweets and chirps issued from the little beak. “Can’t you understand him?”

“Um, no. But obviously you can.”

Tam nodded. “This is Skyward. Hold on, buddy, almost got it.” He worked the snare free and carefully slid it off Skyward’s tiny foot. The bird let out a few more chirps, and Tam dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”

With a startling flurry of wings, the sparrow shot up into the air. In moments he was just a brown speck against the blue. A cheerful trill drifted down to them, and then he was gone.

“Hm.” Jennet stared up into the empty sky, thinking. “I bet that was Puck’s gift - understanding the speech of animals.”

“That could come in handy.”

“Or be totally annoying, depending. What about insects?” She glanced around, then pointed to a dragonfly skimming the grasses nearby. “Can you talk to it?”

Tam stepped over to it. “Hey, bug,” he said in a loud voice. “’sup?”

The dragonfly hovered for a moment, then flew off, its wings making a shirring sound.

“Well?” Jennet asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. Guess I don’t speak bug.”

“That’s probably best. I mean, you don’t need every little speck trying to have a conversation with you. Hey, look. There’s the river.” She gestured down the hill to where water made a sparkling line of silver between the trees.

“And here’s the trail. Come on.” Tam led the way, his movements confident and relaxed.

Jennet watched him. Like her, his avatar was an improved version of his real-life self. Even though there was a character selection menu, it turned out that the game somehow picked up on how you actually looked, with a few modifications. Good thing there weren’t any mirrors here, or she’d have even more explaining to do.

It didn’t take them long to reach the woods lining the river. Dappled light filtered through the fresh green leaves, and up ahead the river chuckled to itself.

“I wonder if fish talk,” Tam said. “And whether they have anything interesting to say.”

“Are fish even animals?”

“Guess we’ll find out. It’s peaceful down here.”

Jennet glanced at Tam. His eyes shone with interest as he looked around. It was nice, being able to see his face. He had good, strong cheekbones, and a sharp nose that wasn’t too big. But his best feature was his green eyes, the color of the leaves overhead.

It was interesting, too, the way he opened up in-game. It felt like he’d said more to her in Feyland than he had the whole rest of the time she’d known him.

“Let’s try this sieve thing,” she said, pausing at the river’s edge. An ancient willow grew there, its leaves trailing in the current. She materialized her sieve, and Tam did the same. He held it up to the light and turned it back and forth.

“Fetch water in this?” he asked. “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s a million holes in it.”

“Well, that’s the quest that Fynnod set us.”

Tam stepped down to the river and bent, scooping up water. It immediately flowed back out, sparkling and dripping through the mesh of the sieve.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy.”

She set her staff down and knelt next to the willow, then dipped her own sieve in. A wavery reflection looked back at her. A reflection that suddenly grew long teeth and green hair.

“Jennet, there’s something in there… look out!” Tam yelled.

Long arms erupted out of the water, grabbing hold of her. Fright thumping hard in her chest, she tried to scramble back, but sharp nails dug into her arms. She couldn’t get free, and the creature was dragging her forward, into the water.

“Tam!” she cried.

The bank was slick. Nothing to hold on to but slender reeds that slipped through her fingers as the creature yanked her down.

“Jennet!”

Tam lunged for her, but the creature gave a last, vicious tug and Jennet tumbled headlong into the river.

Chill water closed over her head, the cold shocking through her, and she kicked out wildly. The river was deep here, by the roots of the old willow. Deep, and treacherous, and the domain of a water hag. Fear shuddered through her.

Her staff lay uselessly on the bank above - she couldn’t fire blue mage-bolts at the creature. Instead she jabbed her fingers into the tough green skin and tried to kick against the current. But no matter how she struggled, the water hag gripped her tighter and kept towing her down. Down. Dizzy panic tightened her throat.

“Hee hee,” the creature burbled. “Wicked Peg found a morsel. A sweet tasteling.” She smacked her lips as she pulled Jennet into the submerged shadows.

Jennet’s limbs felt heavy. Her body was an echo of her own heartbeat, slowing, slowing. Bubbles escaped her mouth, little pearls lifting from between her lips to float up and away. The sky was wavery splinters of light above her.

Then silver exploded into the current beside them. Air and a flash like lightning - Tam diving in after her, his weapon shining. His sword darted, faster than she could have dreamed, stabbing the green-skinned Peg and making her howl. She lifted one hand from Jennet to claw at Tam’s blade.

“Away, away. Prick me not, foul beast of the air!”

Tam kept slashing. Trickles of blood bloomed, clouding the water like green algae. With a last screech, Wicked Peg released Jennet and wriggled away, disappearing into the murky depths beneath the willow.

The last bit of breath escaped Jennet. Her lungs were screaming for air, and Tam’s arm was around her, urging her up. He kicked, strongly, and pulled her from the depths. They emerged together in a gasping spray of light.

“Come on.” Tam half-carried her onto the bank. He kept his arm around her, even when they had gained solid ground.

Jennet knelt on the mud, coughing. Even though her mind was screaming at her to get away from the river, her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She pulled in a rough lungful of air, then coughed again as it scraped her throat. Shivers chased through her.

That had been way too close. What was a high-level monster like that water hag doing here? Feyland was getting more dangerous than she had dreamed.

She crawled forward a few feet and grabbed her staff, then pulled herself to her knees. “Let’s get out of here.” Her voice was hoarse.

Tam nodded and took her hand, helping her to her feet. Her legs trembled and he gave her a concerned look. It warmed her up a little, inside.

“Yeah,” he said. “Some distance is a good idea. You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fair.” All she wanted was to get away from the river, and the green terror lurking in its depths.

“Let’s head over there,” he said, waving to a sunny clearing just visible between the trees. “It seems far enough to be safe.”

She nodded. He put his arm around her shoulders, helping her when she nearly stumbled. By the time they reached the clearing, her breathing had evened out and her steps were less shaky. Flowers dotted the grass - blue bells and spangles of daisies. It looked pretty and innocent, and she desperately hoped there wasn’t some evil creature hiding in the trees, ready to pounce on them.

Tam surveyed the area, and seemed satisfied. “Here. Sit down a minute.”

She sank down in the soft grass and looked up at him. Water plastered his hair to his head and dripped off his armor. He looked a mess, and she certainly wasn’t any better off.

“I hope you don’t start rusting,” she said.

“Yeah. That could get awkward. But magical armor doesn’t do stuff like that. Right?”

Jennet glanced down at her soaked gown. “If you don’t rust and I don’t mold, I think we’ll be all right. Anyway, well… thanks.” The word seemed inadequate.

Tam gave her a crooked grin. “Hey, I’m a Knight. It’s what I do. In fact, give me your sieve and stay here. I’ll figure this thing out.”

“No.” She climbed to her feet. “I’m coming with you. If Wicked Peg comes back, it might take both of us to defeat her again.”

She was not going to let Tam out of her sight.

There was a stubborn set to his jaw, but finally he nodded. “Ok, but let’s stay away from deep water.”

“Yeah - you don’t have to convince me of that.”

They headed upstream, and she was relieved to see the bank flatten out and the river grow shallow. The water ran around large rocks, making a cheerful babble.

“It seems safe,” she said.

“Maybe.” Tam kept one hand on the hilt of his sword and gave the river a wary glance. “At least the bottom’s easy to see - it can’t be more than a few inches deep.”

“You stand guard and I’ll get my sieve.” With a thought, she summoned it, and then braced herself against the surge of weariness that followed. “Maybe if we put mud over the holes, the water will stay in.”

“Anything’s worth a try at this point.” He spoke to her, but stayed facing the river, his eyes scanning the shallows.

She scooped up a handful of dark, gooey mud from the edge of the bank and plopped it in the mesh. So far so good. She smeared it around until it coated the inside of the sieve then, fingers crossed, carefully scooped up some water.

For a second, it held. Then her triumph turned to disappointment as the mud dissolved. Brown water ran out the bottom, and the sieve emptied.

“Great,” she said. “Now what?”

A trill of birdsong filled the air, and Tam jerked his head up. He nodded, then turned to her, a smile in his eyes. “Skyward’s back. He says it’s safe here. And he says to use ashes in the sieve.”

“Ashes? Like, from a fire?”

“That’s right.”

Another flurry of chirping, and this time Jennet saw Skyward, perched on a nearby branch. Ashes, hm? She thought a moment, letting her mind come up with the picture. Ashes - thick gray flakes that would lie over the mesh, with the weight of the water holding them in place.

“It could work.” Holding her sieve out, she imagined ashes settling into it, covering the holes. In an instant, the thought became reality. She swayed. “There. The tricky part will be scooping the water in without dislodging them.”

“We can do it.” Tam sounded completely confident. He summoned ashes into his sieve, then marched to the edge of the water and tilted it into a quiet eddy of current. His lips curved into a full smile as he held up his sieve, brimming with water. “Quest complete.”

The hardest part was trudging back to Fynnod’s without spilling the water. Skyward kept pace with them, twittering what Jennet imagined was encouragement. When they reached the thatched cottage, Fynnod was sitting in his usual place on the front steps. He watched them approach, his close-set eyes gleaming. She let out a silent breath of relief. Their earlier misadventure with the milk hadn’t ruined the quest, after all.

“Greetings, Fynnod.” Jennet gave him the proper words.

“Fair Jennet. Knight Tamlin. Have you completed the quest I set you?”

“We have,” Tam said, stepping forward. The sky reflected off the water brimming in his sieve, a circle of blue bounded by metal.

The Brownie nodded, his ears flapping at the movement. “Then you have won access to the second circle. Prepare yourselves.”

“Hold on,” she whispered to Tam. “He’s going to transport us there.”

A golden glow surrounded them, and she caught a glimpse of Tam’s surprised face. Then the world spun, a sudden vortex of glittering light. She reached, blindly, and caught Tam’s hand in her own. It wasn’t dangerous, traveling the rings, but it could be disorienting your first time.

The whirling stopped, the light dissipating to show a deep forest. As usual, they stood in the center of a ring of mushrooms.

“Where are we?” Tam let go of her hand and slowly surveyed the dark pines surrounding them.

“We’re at the next fairy ring - the second level of Feyland.” They had done it!

When Tam had defeated the Black Knight, she’d been pretty sure, but this was more proof. She was back in-game - though there was no way they could make it to the Dark Court in just one play session. Even if Dad didn’t get home from work until his usual late hour, it was time to get Tam out of Feyland.

“Now what?” He sounded ready to quest all night.

“Now…” She visualized the interface, mentally pressing the exit button. “Now, we log off.”

“But—” Tam’s protest was lost as the game-world dissolved around them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tam lifted the sim helmet and blinked. He felt like he was waking up from some crazy dream - the kind that left your mind and body sluggish and overly warm. In the chair beside him, Jennet peeled off her e-gloves and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked….

Huh. She actually looked better. Less worn-looking. Her eyes were sparkling, and bright blue. Why had he ever thought they were pale?

She smiled at him, the glow and relief in it making him dizzy. “So - what do you think of Feyland?”

“Really amazing. Those fights…” he shook his head. “I could feel so much in there. Thanks for showing me the Full-D. Let’s do it again - soon.”

Her smile dimmed. “Tam… I really need to tell you—”

“Oh no!” He glanced at the clock blinking on the wall, and then read it again to be sure. “No - it’s not really six-thirty, is it? I promised Marny I’d be home by six. She has to leave by then. Jennet, I have to go. Now.”

He slid out of the chair, apprehension tightening his lungs. What a crappy thing to do to Marny. Hopefully she’d be able to stay a little longer. He didn’t like the thought of the Bug on his own, even for a short time. There was no end of trouble that kid could get into.

“I’ll call the car.” She hit the blue switch beside the sim systems, turning off the jamming field. “HANA?”

“Yes, Miss Jennet?”

“Have George bring the car around front. Mr. Linn needs a ride home, as soon as possible.”

“Right away, miss.”

“I’m sorry,” Jennet said, leading him down the hall. “Time is weird in-game. I knew you had to go, but…”

“It happens.” He had lost plenty of hours in the past, had emerged from simming to find that the whole day had spun away. The consequences this time couldn’t be that bad. He hoped.

Outside it was dark, the air quickly cooling into night. Jennet waited by the grav-car as he climbed in.

“So, see you at school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for playing, Tam.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful.

“See you.” He let the door slide closed and told George where to head. The man didn’t raise an eyebrow, which, considering their destination, was impressive. He must have some weaponry in the car - maybe even attached to it - if the thought of driving into the Exe didn’t worry him.

It was full dark when the grav-car slid to a stop in front of Tam’s building. He mumbled his thanks and got out as fast as he could. People were watching from the shadows and boarded-up windows - he could feel their stares. He hurried up the rickety stairs, not bothering to look back as the car slipped away.

It was quiet upstairs. Too quiet. A quick glance around the living room confirmed that his little brother wasn’t there.

“Hey,” he called. “I’m home. Come out now.”

There was no response - and the Bug wasn’t any good at hiding. He always laughed and gave himself away.

Tam peeked into the tiny room where his mom’s bed was, did a quick check of the cramped bathroom - nothing. He pushed back the panic creeping up his throat.

There was a note on the dingy table. Tam picked it up, trying to keep his fingers steady. It was in Marny’s round handwriting.

Hey Tam, it’s 6:20 and I really need to head out. I gave your evil kid brother the rest of the Sugar Crunchies and made him promise to chill until you got home. Hope you get here soon. And that you had fun.

--M

Tam checked the faded green readout on the kitchen clock. Half-an-hour since Marny left. That was plenty of time for the Bug to get into trouble. Or for someone else to show up, and get him into even worse.

He sniffed - no telltale smell of matches or smoke. Not like the last time he’d left his brother unsupervised. He’d come upstairs after simming a little too long, to find a pile of paper smoldering in the middle of the kitchen.

“Bug?” he called, “Peter?” Maybe his brother would answer to his given name. Nothing, and the fear really began to set in.

Should he call the cops? No - they’d only blow him off. The first few times Mom had gone missing, he’d tried to get them to come help, with no luck. Why would this be any different? He lived in the Exe.

His stomach twisted and he tried not to picture all the hurt his little brother could be in. The Bug was pretty random. The medicine he had to take for his blood disease made him act on impulse - not that an eight-year-old had a lot of sense to begin with. In the last year he’d started with the whole pyromaniac thing. He said the flames made him feel good. Tam was sure he’d hid all the matches where Peter couldn’t find them, but still….

Maybe the people hiding out in the old shop down the street had seen something. They scared the piss out of him, with their crazy yellow eyes and the sickly-sweet smell of whatever they were smoking filling the air, but he had to start somewhere.

Tam was partway down the stairs when he heard it. A muffled clang, then a scrape of metal, coming from close by. He flung himself down the rest of the stairs and pelted to the back. Sure enough, the big door was unlocked. And inside -

“Peter!” He scooped his brother up in an awkward hug. “I was so worried about you.”

“Yeesh.” The Bug squirmed in his arms. “Let go, Tam. And don’t step on anything.”

Tam let his brother slip free, and finally saw what the kid had been doing. Disbelief hit him hard, right in the gut.

“Oh, god.”

He turned in slow circles, trying to take in the destruction. Disconnected cables were half-unwound in coppery spirals over the floor. The visor of his helmet was propped against the open side of his CPU - which looked like it had been visited by a bomb. His gloves were turned inside-out, the sensors dangling like broken spider-webs.

Anger rushed through him, and a horrible sense of loss. “My system! What do you think you’re doing?”

The Bug scuffed his shoe against the cement floor. “Marny said it was all messed up.”

“Well, now it’s really messed up. Damn it!”

He wanted to take his brother by the shoulders and shake him. Hard. So hard he’d fly into as many bits as the computer scattered across the floor. Instead, Tam took a deep breath. The Bug was too fragile for that - and besides, Tam was the one who held the family together.

“I’ll put it back.” His brother sounded on the verge of tears. “I didn’t think it would be so hard to fix, Tam. I thought maybe, you know…” He curled his shoulders forward.

“Aw, man. Don’t cry.” There were enough other things in their life to cry about. “The system was about to die completely, anyway.”

He tried to make himself believe it. And maybe the Bug could actually get the thing up and running again. Stranger things had happened.

“Ok.” His little brother sniffed, his voice still strained.

“Here.” Tam pulled him into a rough hug. “Let’s get you upstairs and ready for bed. You can work on putting it back together tomorrow after school.”

Just before waving off the lights and locking the door, Tam couldn’t help glancing once more at the ruins of his system. So much for his gaming.

Everything around here was falling apart. The stairs were getting more treacherous by the day, the neighborhood was disintegrating, and his brother had a disease nobody could fix. His mom was barely functioning. And now his sim-system was officially dead.

Tam shoved his anger deep down.

“How’d you cut yourself?” the Bug asked, one hand on Tam’s arm.

“What?” He glanced down, to see his brother was right. There was a red gash on his forearm. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and deep. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it. Jammy time, Bug.”

While his little brother was getting into bed, Tam went into the bathroom and examined the cut. It throbbed, now that he knew about it. He didn’t remember cutting himself.

For a second, the image of the Black Knight flashed before his eyes. That faceless black visor stayed there, floating in his vision, as if it were looking at him. With uncanny clarity Tam recalled their battle - the moment the knight’s sword had slid into the gap between his armor….

A sick, shaky feeling moved through him. No way. You didn’t get injuries that carried over from computer games into real life, no matter how intense the virtual reality was. It just didn’t happen.

He had cut himself getting out of the grav-car, or downstairs, and just hadn’t noticed. Yeah, that was it.

He gulped back a glass of water, and then splashed more on his face.

“Tam?” The Bug’s voice was lonely.

“Coming.” He slapped some all-purpose ointment on the cut, then went out to tell his brother goodnight. It was time they both got some rest.

“’Night to you, too,” his brother murmured sleepily.

Tam curled into his old sleeping bag, and weariness hit him heavy in the chest. A crazy mosaic of his day flitted through his head. Jennet, smiling at him. The hairy brown man. A ring of pale mushrooms. Marny, stuffing his cash in her pocket. His system, the guts of his life, spilled everywhere.

Just before he slipped into sleep, he thought he heard the Black Knight’s laughter echo in his mind, low and menacing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jennet smiled at her reflection as she got ready for school the next morning. Hair a brighter shade of gold, eyes that sparkled - yes! She felt better than she had in weeks. Somehow, being back in Feyland had restored some of her energy.

Conviction rushed through her. She was going to win, going to make it all the way to the Court and get back the piece of herself she had lost.

Then her mood dimmed, the glint fading from her reflection’s eye. That was, assuming she could enter the game by herself. She’d been so certain she was in - but then she’d tried to go in-game again, after Tam had left.

Once again she’d been stuck, trapped at the first level with no quest-giver and no way forward. Which meant that she still needed Tam.

And she had to tell him the truth about Feyland - that it was an actual place, somehow connected to the real world. She couldn’t ask him to go any further in-game without knowing what he was getting into. Though there was no guarantee he’d believe her, and the thought of telling him made her feel sick. She squeezed her eyes tight and concentrated on keeping her breakfast down.

“It is time to depart for school, Miss Jennet.” HANA’s even tones rang through the bedroom intercom.

“Ok, I’m coming.” Jennet hurried out of the bathroom and grabbed her satchel, then paused in front of her bookshelf. Her dad thought she was crazy for still wanting the paper books that lined the shelves.

“It makes no sense,” he had said, watching the hired movers carry the last of the heavy boxes of books away from their old house. He’d slipped his tablet out of his pocket and waved it at her. “This is where all those books could be - plus thousands more. Instead you’re going to give the workers a hernia.”

“I like old tech, Dad.” Especially since some of those books were too old, too rare. They didn’t exist in e-form. Neither she nor Dad would mention Thomas, or the fact that some of those books had belonged to him. Since he’d died, they never, ever talked about him.

She ran her fingertips along the bumpy spines until she found Tales of Folk and Faerie, a collection that was nearly three-hundred years old. It had belonged to Thomas. She’d salvaged the aging binding and done what she could to reinforce the delicate paper. With a whispered apology, she slid the book out and tucked it into her satchel. Tam needed to see this, needed to look at the stories and illustrations and have it all start to make sense. The way it finally had for her.

“Miss Jennet? Is there a reason to delay?”

“I’m on my way.” Sometimes she wished HANA would lose that machine patience and sound irritated. Just once. So that Jennet could pretend there was a real person there, who actually cared if she was late to class.

She made it to school on time. The only problem was, Tam wasn’t there. She was sure at lunch, when she saw Marny sitting in the cafeteria. Alone.

Jennet took a deep breath and swallowed back the bitter tang of worry. There could be a hundred reasons Tam hadn’t made it today.

Too bad all the things she could think of went from bad to horrible. Something had happened, she just knew it - somehow the game had harmed him already. Feyland had been completely unpredictable last night. It wasn’t such a stretch to think the game had done something to Tam.

And it was her fault.

Maybe Marny knew something. Jennet grabbed her tray and walked over to where Marny sat. Without waiting for an invitation, she set her lunch down and took a seat. A shocked little buzz of attention followed her, making the back of Jennet’s neck prickle - but there was no way she was waiting until the end of school.

“Hi,” Jennet said.

Marny had set her fork down as soon as Jennet approached, and gave her a level gaze across the table. “You sure you want to be over here?”

“Yes. Unless you want me to leave.”

Marny lifted one shoulder. “As long as the gossip won’t bother you. I don’t care. Sit where you want.”

Jennet looked across the cafeteria, saw the faces quickly turned away, the giggles hidden behind lifted hands. “It’s not like I’m exactly popular. Being a Viewer and all. Listen, do you know—”

“Where’s Tam today?” Marny’s question collided with hers.

“What?” Her worry spiked. “I thought you’d know.”

“I had to leave before he made it home last night. If he made it at all. What did you do with him?” There was a challenge in her voice.

“Nothing! Okay, he was a little late, but my dad’s driver dropped him off at his house no problem. Really, you don’t know where he is?”

“I’m not his keeper. Like I said, I had to leave. I hope everything’s all right.”

Jennet pushed her tray aside. “I have to go find out.”

“He never answers his messages - reception in the Exe is way spotty. There’s no way to get in touch with him.”

“I’m going to his house.” Jennet stood. Having a plan helped clear some of the anxiety, made her feel a little more in control.

“What - now?” Marny glanced side-to-side. “You don’t seem like the type to ditch your classes.”

“This is more important.” She had to make sure Tam was all right.

“Maybe he just got sick,” Marny said, though she didn’t sound very certain. “Or his brother did - their mom isn’t around a lot, so stuff falls on Tam. It could be no big deal.”

“Could be.”

“Look. You can’t just head into the Exe and hope to find Tam.”

“Come with me, then.” That would make things a lot easier.

“I wish I could, but…” Marny made a face, like she’d bitten something sour. “I can’t miss the test in World Markets today, or they’ll flunk me out. I’ll take you over there after school though.”

The anxiety sizzling through Jennet wouldn’t wait. “No. It has to be now.”

“You’re not big on sense, are you Fancy-girl?” Marny blew out a breath, then pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and scribbled something down. “Look, here’s a map. That’s my number at the bottom. Message me if you get totally lost. And when you find out what’s up with Tam.”

Jennet folded the paper and tucked it in her pocket. “I’ll let you know.” She grabbed her tray and stood up.

“One more thing,” Marny said.

“What?”

“Try not to get killed out there.” The big girl gave her a wry smile.

“Um. Okay, I’ll do my best.”

Jennet scraped her lunch into the bin, then set her tray on the stack with a clatter that seemed to echo around the room. People were still looking at her - but she had bigger things to worry about. There was only one person who mattered right now, and the sooner she slipped away, the sooner she’d know if he was all right.

Boarded-up buildings loomed on either side of Jennet. She swallowed back the metal taste of fear and glanced at the directions Marny had scribbled out. Did that line there mean she was supposed to go left, or right? According to the sort-of map, she was getting close to Tam’s. So far things had been quiet in the Exe.

Before leaving the school grounds she’d taken off her jewelry and folded the cuffs of her sweater down over her wrists, trying to hide her chip. True, she still stood out, with her too-clean designer clothes, but so far she’d been left alone. If her luck held, in a couple minutes she’d be knocking on Tam’s door. Provided she could find it.

George knew how to get there, but she couldn’t call him and say, “Hey, I’m ditching my classes, could you give me a ride?” Dad would send her straight back to Middland.

A clank of metal-on-metal drifted from down the street to the right. Okay then, she’d go left. The pavement had chunks missing. The smell of something rotten lodged in the back of her throat, but this felt like the right place. The empty, brownish building on the corner seemed familiar. Wasn’t Tam’s just down -

“Hey, girly.” A man stepped out into the street in front of her, his voice hoarse and low.

Jennet took a step back, her whole body going tight with fear. Run! She whirled, only to find another man flanking her. Oh god. Oh god. This was severe. Stomach clenching, she sidled toward the middle of the street.

The first man spread his arms wide. He and the other guy both had weird, yellowish eyes, where a crazy wildness lurked. They smelled, too - a thick, cloying stench that made her head spin.

“You look like you got loot,” the first man said.

“No.” She fought to make her voice firm, the way you’d talk to a menacing dog. “Go away.”

“Nuh-uh. Not until you hand over that fancy purse,” said the one behind her. “Hey man, check out her wrist. I think we just hit the jackpot.” He laughed, a rusty caw.

The first man’s eyes gleamed and his hand went to his belt. He had some kind of weapon there. Gun, knife - either way she was in deep trouble.

Jennet’s body was a drum, filled with the heavy thump of fear. She should’ve waited for Marny. If only she had a weapon, just a stone or a stick, something to fight with. Or her staff. She could almost feel it in her hands - the heavy, comforting weight, ready to zap whatever creatures menaced her.

Wait. She could feel it. She glanced down to see the smooth, dark wood, the crystal glowing blue-white at the tip. Her mage staff from Feyland.

No way. Fear was making her imagine things. But the man in front of her was staring at her hands, too. Staring at what she now held.

“What the…” He took a step back and drew a knife. “Where’d that come fr—”

Jennet hit him with a sizzling bolt of light, square in the chest, sending him flying backward ten feet. He lay moaning on the broken pavement.

Never hesitate when confronting your enemies - she’d learned that in-game. Pivoting, she leveled her staff at the second man, but he was already running away, down the street. She nearly went after him, but caught herself. She had to find Tam. And this wasn’t Feyland.

It was the real world - so what was her staff doing, appearing in her hands and shooting magical bolts? Things like that just didn’t happen. They couldn’t.

As if sensing her disbelief, her staff disappeared. There one second, gone the next, leaving her fingers curved around empty air.

Jennet blinked and lowered her hands. Had she been dreaming? The guy lying on the street was pretty convincing evidence that it had happened. But her staff had vanished. No explanation.

The man moaned and Jennet ran, sprinting past him down the street. She didn’t look back. She skidded around the corner, and her breath whooshed out in relief as she saw the old mechanic’s shop with the rickety outside stairs. Tam’s place.

She checked the big metal door in back first, but it was locked. All right - upstairs it was. No matter how treacherous the stairs looked, they would be easy compared to the guys she’d left behind.

The railing swayed when she touched it, and the treads creaked wearily under her feet, but Jennet kept going. Maybe Tam wasn’t home, but she couldn’t stop now. The thought of going back through the neighborhood alone… no way. A shiver shook through her. At least it was the middle of the day. She couldn’t imagine how creepy the Exe would be at night. Maybe even worse than the Dark Forest in Feyland. She didn’t intend to find out.

No wonder Tam was so brave, if this was what he lived with every day.

A small landing at the top of the stairs led to a warped front door. There was a window in the wall beside it, but it was made of thick glass imbedded with wire, impossible to see through. Well. No use just standing here. She lifted her hand and knocked.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A shadow crossed in front of the window, and then a metal cover in the door slid open a bare inch. An eye regarded her.

“Hi,” Jennet said. “Um - Tam, is that you?” Somehow she didn’t think so. Unease tightened the back of her neck and prickled down her spine.

The eye looked at her a moment more, then the peephole cover closed abruptly. Jennet waited, but there was nothing else - no greeting or dismissal, no opening door. She bit her lip. Should she knock again? Maybe it had been the little brother, and he didn’t know what to do. Although, whoever had been looking at her, it hadn’t felt like a kid.

“Hello?” she called. “Is Tam home?”

The silence continued on the other side of the door.

She waited for what felt like forever. Finally, Jennet turned away. Disappointment was sour in her mouth. She took one step down the rickety stairs. Then another.

Behind her came the quiet jangle of a chain, the clunk of a deadbolt being drawn back. Whoever had been standing there was opening the door. Half-afraid to look, she made herself turn around.

The door swung back to reveal a woman on the threshold. She clung to the knob, as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. She was tiny, and not just because she was emaciated, though that didn’t help. Her green eyes were ringed with weary circles. Brown hair, cut raggedly short, framed her too-thin face.

“Who?” she whispered, the question a bare thread of sound.

“I’m a friend of Tam’s,” Jennet said, making her voice soothing. This woman looked like she could be knocked over by a loud voice, an abrupt move. “Is he home?” Please, let him be here.

“Mom?” It was Tam’s voice, calling from inside.

Thank god - he was all right. Relief poured through her, making her knees weak. Tam was here. Not collapsed on the floor because the game had ripped out a piece of his soul. Not bleeding away from some game injury that crossed the boundary into real life.

“Hey mom, where are you?” he called again, sounding worried.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, and then looked back at Jennet. She nodded, once, and then Tam was standing beside her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, all his attention fixed on the wraith of a woman still clinging to the doorknob. “Come back inside now, Mom. You shouldn’t be up.”

Then his gaze moved past the woman. He looked unhappy to see Jennet standing there.

“Hi,” she said. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” He put a protective arm around his mom and steered her back into the house.

Jennet took a hasty step forward, before he could close and lock the door in her face. “Can’t I come in? There are some crazies out there, you know.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t sound at all pleased about it. “I’ll be right back. Close the door, and make sure it’s locked.” Without looking back, he guided his mom inside.

“Nice,” Jennet said under her breath.

She hadn’t thought Tam would throw a party when she showed up, but she hadn’t expected this borderline hostility. Especially after running together in Feyland so successfully the day before. She’d thought they were allies, at the very least.

After closing - and bolting - the door, she stepped into the middle of the room. Tam’s place was slightly better than a shed, but to call it a house would be a stretch. It smelled musty, with an underlay of old grease and rust. The main room had a thin couch along one wall, with bedding pushed down at the bottom. In the corner was a sleeping-bag and worn pillow. Pretty obvious that Tam and his brother slept here. A bathroom was wedged in beside the kitchen, but it was too small to even qualify as a room.

Next to the sleeping area was an overflowing bookshelf, made from rough boards nailed together. Comics and computer repair schematics spilled out of the shelves in messy stacks, sandwiched in between old game manuals, kid stories and some novels. It reminded her of the other reason she was here - to give Tam the book in her satchel. And - her breath caught - to tell him about Feyland.

In front of the couch, taking up part of the floor, was spread a thin webwork of wires. Jennet took a careful step closer. They seemed to be attached to Tam’s gaming gloves. Was he doing some modifications? There was nothing he could do to make his gloves respond like the VirtuMax ones. He shouldn’t even try.

Tam came back into the room, closing his mom’s door quietly behind him. He folded his arms.

“So,” he said, “what do you want?”

Jennet tried not to look like his attitude was bothering her, but the unfriendliness in his voice and expression hurt. He’d gone back to being the wary stranger with hair in front of his eyes.

“Nice to see you, too,” she said. “I’m glad you didn’t get jumped by the crazies last night, or break your neck on the stairs, or something like that.”

“My mom came home,” he said, like that should explain everything.

Which in some ways it did. Obviously his mom was a wreck, and Tam was taking care of her. Jennet couldn’t blame him for missing school - it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. Even though it had put her in a severe panic.

“We need to talk,” she said.

He gave a sharp nod. “You first.”

She swallowed. “Could we sit down?”

“Ok. Watch the wires.” He stepped over the eviscerated gaming gloves and pushed the bedding off the end of the couch, then perched there.

Jennet sat at the other end and leaned her satchel against her legs. She nodded at the floor. “Are you re-configuring your gloves?”

His expression tightened even more. “You could say that. The whole system is down for maintenance right now.”

“Oh. So - you can’t play at home?”

“Look.” He pushed the hair out of his eyes and gave her an angry glare. “Why did you come here?”

“I have something to show you.” She pulled the old book out of her bag and handed it to him.

He stared at the cover a long moment, and then opened the book, turning the pages with a care that eased some of her tension. Familiar faces flashed past. Fynodderee. Puck. At the illustration of Peg Powler, the water hag, he stopped.

“This is the inspiration for Feyland,” he said. “Where’d this book come from? Is it yours?”

“It belonged to the lead developer who worked with my dad on the game. His name was Thomas Rimer.”

Tam slowly closed the book. “What happened to him?”

His expression was serious. Would he still trust her, still believe her, when she told him the truth?

“He…” Jennet twisted her fingers together. “My dad would tell you he died of a stroke, but… I think somehow the game killed him.”

“Wait a minute,” Tam said, rubbing at his forearm. “How can a game kill someone? That can’t happen, not literally.”

Jennet took a deep breath. “Feyland isn’t just a game, Tam. I know it sounds crazy, but I think it’s somehow connected to the Realm of Faerie.”

“Get real.” He pushed the book onto the couch and stood. “There’s no such thing.”

“If it’s not real then what is that book all about?” She pointed to Tales of Folk and Faerie, sprawled on the faded blanket.

“Fairy tales!” Tam jammed his hands in his pockets. “It’s just a book. Stories to frighten kids, made-up stuff - they’re not real.”

She used to think the same thing. “That book is hundreds of years old, Tam! Those stories aren’t made-up - they’re collected from real people who had real experiences with something beyond our world. Did you know that in Europe, stone circles used to be recognized as portals into Faerie? Burial mounds, sacred wells - all of those were doorways to somewhere else.”

“So?”

“So - those places are gone now.”

“And what?” He gave a disbelieving laugh. “Now the faeries are trying to get to us through games? You’re insane, Jennet.”

His disbelief stabbed through her. She’d thought - she’d hoped - that Tam would believe her. He was the only one who might.

A muffled cry from the bedroom made them both turn.

“Damn - she’s waking up.” He turned on her, a fierce look in his eyes. “You need to go. Now.”

“Fine. I’m leaving you the book.”

Another cry, louder this time, followed by a thump. Tam took her arm and marched her to the door. “I don’t have time for your wacko theories about Feyland, Jennet. Just, stay out of my life from now on. I have more important things to deal with.”

She blinked hard against the sting of tears. He wasn’t worth it.

Except that, he was.

“Tam—”

“Bye.” He closed the door in her face. The bolt chunked back into place. From inside came the sound of something breaking.

Jennet sank down on the top step. It took a minute for her to blink away her tears. School was almost out. She’d wait a little longer, then call George to pick her up. She didn’t think Tam would let her back inside. She wasn’t welcome, that was beyond clear, but she wasn’t about to walk back alone through the Exe.

She stared at the grey sky and took a shaky breath. All right. So much for her gamer hero. It was better this way - for both of them. Feyland was too dangerous, especially for someone who didn’t take it seriously.

She was on her own. Again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It took longer than usual for Tam to soothe his mom back into sleep. Maybe it had been his argument with Jennet, or just having someone else in their house, but she was restless and manic. He’d coaxed her back onto her meds, but it always took a while for them to kick in and stabilize her crazy mood swings.

He swept up the shards of the plate she’d broken. Next time he’d remember to bring her food on plastic dishes. It would be another two, three days before she’d be back to functioning. Then he and the Bug would have a mom for a while.

His brother was still young enough to treasure those times, but Tam had learned to hate them. A week or two, maybe a month, and she’d stop taking the drugs that made her sane. Then she’d steal whatever money was left and leave - only to stumble home a few days or weeks later. And then the cycle repeated.

He still couldn’t forgive her for taking the travel money he’d worked so hard to earn. The money that would have gotten him to the national gaming tournament. It had been his ticket out - prize money, sponsorships, a little fame. All gone. He still felt sick when he thought about it.

At least this time she had brought some cash. Tam didn’t ask where or how she got it, he just hid most of it. They needed food, and cheap fuel for the generator, and anything else they couldn’t put off. This time around, it would be a trip to the clinic for the Bug, to get his quarterly shot.

Would there be enough for a new system? Yeah, right. No way was that going to happen. Tam laughed bitterly at himself for even having the thought.

Not only did he have no system, he’d just ended his friendship with the girl who had the best set-up he’d ever played. He was an idiot.

Forget about her sparked system, and her blue eyes. He’d go back to Zeg’s - when he got some time and some extra coins.

Not soon, that was for sure.

He didn’t have anything else to do, other than stare at the mess of his gaming gloves, so Tam picked up the book Jennet had brought. What a nutcase.

What about that cut on your arm? a voice inside him whispered. He ignored it. There was no overlap from virtual reality to real life. None. To think there might be - that was craziness waiting to happen. It was surprising the authorities hadn’t taken Jennet in for psych testing.

Or maybe they had. What did he know about her, after all? She was new in town. She could be hiding all kinds of things.

Well, he’d never know. They were done. Though at some point he supposed he’d have to return her stupid book. Might as well take a look, now that he had it.

It was old - she hadn’t been lying about that. The few color illustrations had a dreamy, saturated feeling, similar to Feyland. Jennet said the lead programmer had owned this book. Obviously he’d used it for some serious inspiration.

There were black-and-white drawings, too. Gnarled figures perched in tree-branches, lovely women who called men to their deaths in deep water, winged sprites darting through a clearing. And the Black Knight. Tam’s gut clenched as he stared at the picture of the knight. The cut on his arm started hurting. Hastily, he turned the page.

The Faerie Queen.

For a second, Tam couldn’t breathe. So, this was the queen. Her face was delicate, her eyes haunted and compelling. She wore clothing that looked insubstantial as mist, the flowing gown revealing the curve of her hip and baring one shoulder. Pointed ears were just visible through her midnight-dark hair, gems tangled like stars in its silky blackness.

She was beautiful. He couldn’t imagine wanting to fight her, even as the final boss in a game.

“Tam?” It was the Bug, home from school. Tam hadn’t heard him coming up the stairs.

“Hey there. Want a snack?” He shoved the book under his sleeping bag and went to distract his brother.

That night the Dark Queen moved through his dreams. She whispered to him of his bravery and offered him a goblet of deep red liquid. His lips touched the edge - and he woke, tangled and sweaty in his sleeping bag. First light was sifting through the windows. He got himself a drink of water, and then went to check on Mom.

She was sleeping - a restless, unhappy sleep from the looks of it. He could sympathize. Even though he was tired, he wasn’t going back to bed. The alarm to get the Bug off to school would ring in an hour, and it wasn’t worth it to lie there trying to rest for most of that time, only to get yanked back out of sleep again.

He missed gaming. It had only been two days since simming at Jennet’s, and there was a big aching hole in his chest.

He’d told Jennet to stay out of his life. Remembering the look on her face made him wince. Maybe he’d been a little harsh. But it had been too much - her just coming over, showing up while he was trying to deal with Mom, looking around his house like it was no better than a cardboard box some street bum slept in.

And then that freaky talk about Feyland and some guy named Thomas. Obviously his death had hit her hard, but that was no excuse to go off the deep end about what was real, and what wasn’t.

Still, maybe he shouldn’t have told her off. Even if that game had made her crazy, she was a nice person. Too good for him, really, with her fancy life and all. Not to mention that amazing system.

He let out a deep breath, then went into the kitchen to heat water for instant coffee. It was going to be another long, tough day.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The rest of the week, Jennet kept hoping to see Tam at school. If only she could talk to him again and say she was sorry for coming over. She shouldn’t have gotten up in his space like that, but she had needed to make sure he was all right. Needed to try and make him understand.

Each day crawled by, the hours oozing past like old ketchup, and there was no sign of Tam. Marny couldn’t tell her much, either. She just said that it was his life, his business, and that he’d be back. Eventually.

Every afternoon Jennet went home, turned on the jammer, and snuck onto the Full-D, trying to get back into Feyland. Every afternoon, she was stuck again at the starting lands, unable to find a faerie ring to take her deeper in. It was no use - she was locked out. Without a companion, the game wouldn’t let her through. She could feel the extra energy she’d gotten back trickling out again, like a slow leak from a faucet. Pretty soon she’d start getting dizzy again - and how long would she last after that?

It was better for Tam if he were done with her, done with Feyland. She knew that, but panic still crawled up her throat at night, choking her, and her dreams were full of the Dark Queen’s mocking laughter.

Then at dinner on Friday, Dad decided to get all parental.

“I hear you had a guest over,” he said, setting down his fork. “A young man.”

He seemed pretty calm. Maybe he was just glad that she’d made a friend. “His name’s Tam. He’s in some of my classes.”

“Oh?” Her dad lifted his eyebrows. His voice was carefully neutral, in that way parents had of trying to get you to confide.

She let out a sigh. No doubt George and Marie had already given him their biased opinion. “He’s nice. And he’s a gamer. A good one. I thought he might like to take a look at the prototype system.”

“Young lady.” Dad’s voice was suddenly hard. “I’ve told you Feyland is off-limits. That’s not going to change.”

“I know that, Dad.” She pasted a smile on her face, trying to look like she had a major crush. “But the Full-D systems are cool to see, and I just wanted to show Tam…”

“Impress him, you mean?”

She didn’t have to fake the blush heating her cheeks. “I guess. He’s kind of sweet.” And messed-up. And still a hero in every way that counted.

“I expect you to behave yourself.” He picked his fork back up and took another bite of meat. A good sign that the interrogation was about over. “Does this Tam have a last name?”

“It’s Linn. And don’t worry. I mean, I like him, but we’re just friends.” Or had been.

“If you continue seeing him, I’d like to meet Mr. Linn. And Marie is insisting on a clearance check.” His tone said there was no arguing around this one.

Luckily, it wouldn’t be a problem. She wasn’t seeing Tam at all - not even in the most basic sense of the word.

“All right.” It was way past time to change the subject. “How’s work going?”

He finished chewing. “We need to find a new lead programmer.”

For Thomas. His death had been strange; even VirtuMax acknowledged that. They thought it had been some kind of corporate espionage, though. Suddenly the push was on to get the whole project relocated here, to Crestview, where the security was tight as clenched teeth. And where the buried cables of the ‘net ran right through - ready and waiting for when the company was ready to market their new release.

“Maybe you should start something new,” she said. She tried to keep it casual, though she wanted to grab Dad by the shoulders and start yelling that they must never, ever, release that game. “There has to be another way to showcase the system without finishing Feyland. What about a different kind of game?”

Her dad shook his head. “I don’t know why you keep saying that, Jennet. The company has already put millions into this project. And I thought you liked the idea behind Feyland.”

“Not so much, any more.”

Not since she’d been sucked through it into a place that was perilous, real, and full of dark magic. What would happen if her dad’s team managed to finish the project? Once Feyland was released with the new sim-system, there would be millions of players. Would all of them fight the same battle with the Dark Queen that she had - and lose? Then what? Could the Dark Court somehow find a way to enter their world? The thought made her mouth go dry.

“I’m sorry.” Dad’s tone told her he was apologizing for everything: Thomas’s death, their sudden move, even being such a workaholic that her mom had left for good five years ago.

Jennet took a drink of water. The liquid in the glass shivered under her unsteady hand. Some things you couldn’t change. And some things you had to try, no matter how impossible.

“You should start playing Feyland.” She couldn’t keep the urgency from her voice. “You know, see what it’s like inside this project you’ve been managing. It would help you get a feel for it. I could go with you, help you with the quests, show you around.”

Maybe then he’d be able to see the danger, maybe then he’d listen to her. Although Tam had played, and he hadn’t believed her. Her dad would be no different.

“I played the earliest version,” he said. “You know that. It was enough to give me a solid idea of the concept. Gaming’s not my strong point. Besides, I prefer to stay out of the artist’s vision at this point.”

“There is no artist! You can never replace Thomas. You shouldn’t even try.” Tears clogged her throat, and she stared at her plate, appetite gone.

After an uncomfortable minute, her dad let out a low breath. “How about we go see a movie tomorrow? There must be something good at the 3-Max.”

“All right,” she finally said, swallowing back her hopelessness.

Not that going to see a movie would change anything. Dad would never come around, and banging her head against that brick wall wasn’t going to solve her problems.

Monday was better, especially when she caught sight of Tam at his locker. Relief blew through her like a welcome wind. Should she go up and say hi? Did he have her book? What if he just ignored her? Or worse, snapped at her and told her never to speak to him again?

While she was still debating with herself, the first bell blared through the hall and it was too late. He didn’t look at her once during Early World History. Good thing she hadn’t said hello. She tried to ignore him in return, but despair settled over her like a thick cloak. When class ended, she moved blindly out into the hall.

“Hey.” A touch on her arm.

She turned, to find Tam beside her. His eyes, half-hidden by his hair, looked wary. But not mad, not the way they had when he’d told her to get out of his life.

“What do you want?” She kept her voice even. No gladness. No anger. Students thronged past them, some talking noisily, others with heads bent to their tablets, barely watching where they were going.

“Can I meet you after school?” he asked.

She shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but a flame of hope wavered to life. “I guess. I’ll see you out front.”

“Ok.” He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then gave her a brief flicker of a smile. “See you.”

He walked away, and her body was suddenly lighter, like she’d finally remembered how to breathe.

It still took years for the end of the school day to come. A few times, Jennet was certain the clocks had broken, their readouts stuck on the same numbers. But at last her final class ended.

She made herself walk slowly down the stairs and out the big double-doors. There was no guarantee Tam would be there. He could have changed his mind. Even if he was waiting for her, things might still be bad between them.

He was there, leaning against the brick wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, his mangy backpack at his feet.

“Hi,” she said, stopping in front of him. It didn’t seem enough, but everything else she could think of to say was too dumb - or too personal. Clearly his mom was a dangerous topic, as was Feyland. Her apology stuck in her throat, but she scraped it out anyway.

“I… I’m sorry I barged into your life like that.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his scuffed pack. “I’m sorry, too.”

Ouch. “I’ll stay out of your life from now on, don’t worry.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

“Wait.” He held out one hand. “I didn’t mean it like that - I meant for telling you to leave like that. I, um, brought back your book.”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.” His green eyes caught hers. “It was interesting. Look, Jennet. I’m sorry I said those things to you.”

“Which things?” She needed it to be perfectly clear. Needed to know exactly which parts he was sorry for.

A shadow crossed his face. “That you should get out of my life. That you were crazy. Wait—” He held up a hand as she drew breath. “I’m not saying that you’re right, either. But I do know that something strange is going on.”

“Do you?” It was a start. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from hoping.

He rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. There was a red line marring his skin.

“I got this cut after the fight with the Black Knight. Yeah, I could have cut myself on something else, but...”

“But what? You think maybe the game can affect the real world?” Oh, god. He might actually believe her. The painful knots in her chest began to loosen. She’d been carrying this alone for so long.

“I’m also having weird dreams.” He cleared his throat. “And the game, Feyland - there’s something kind of off about it. So - I don’t believe you. But I don’t not believe you, either.”

Jennet went limp with relief. She sagged against the wall, her whole body trembling. “Thanks.”

The word wasn’t big enough to convey the enormous wave of gratitude rushing through her.

He bent and pulled Tales of Folk and Faerie out of his pack, then handed it to her. “So, when do we go back in-game? I could come over almost any day this week. My mom,” he looked away a moment, then back, “she’s doing better. For now.”

“That’s good. But I don’t think we should play again.”

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes and he straightened. “What do you mean? I thought you needed my help. Or did you find somebody else?”

“No - nobody else. But Tam,” she gestured to his arm, “you’ve already gotten hurt, and that was in the starting lands, where nothing like that is supposed to happen. It gets worse. A lot worse.”

He pushed his hair away from his eyes and gave her a long look. She could almost see the thoughts turning in his head.

“Did something happen to you in-game, Jennet?” His voice held a rough note of concern. “Are you okay?”

She wouldn’t cry - not here, in front of the school. In front of Tam. Blinking hard, she summoned up the words. “I lost… I lost the game to the Dark Queen. And no, I’m not okay.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. All the fear she’d kept inside was pushing out, making her skin hot, making her weep despite herself.

“Jennet.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Don’t cry. You aren’t supposed to beat the boss the first time you try. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s not like that, Tam. You have no idea. The first level of the game—”

“Hey.” He gave her a fleeting, crooked smile. “Give me another chance. I’m the best simmer around, remember? And this time, I know what we’re getting into.”

“You don’t.” She pushed away from the wall and stared into his eyes. “Feyland is dangerous!”

“Then show me.” He held her gaze.

Stubborn idiot. He wasn’t backing down. She wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

“Tam—”

“Let me choose whether I should keep playing or not. I get it, something’s weird with the game. I’ll be careful. Besides, don’t you still need my help?”

She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground for a long moment. That was the worst of it. It was hard to argue that he shouldn’t enter Feyland when she needed him so desperately.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I do need your help.”

“Then we’re still playing,” he said. “Together.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jennet settled in the sim-chair and glanced over at Tam. Helmet and gloves on, he was leaning forward like a free-faller about to jump.

“Ready?” she asked.

Please, let nothing go wrong. She had the twisting feeling that Feyland was a trap, waiting to spring. They shouldn’t be doing this - but she didn’t have any other options.

“Ready,” he said. His voice was full of anticipation that she couldn’t share.

“All right. See you in there.” She pulled down the visor of her helm and entered the game.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND.

The words scrolled across her vision, flared, then burned down to nothing. She braced herself for the transition, that queasy, whirling golden light that marked full entry into the game.

When the light stopped spinning, she was standing in a ring of pale mushrooms. Tam was beside her, wearing his armor, his sword at his side. The sky was filled with the grey of early twilight, and the dark forest stretched away on all sides. Directly in front of them a thin trail cut through the pines.

He glanced around. “Where are we?”

“The second circle. We unlocked it last time.” Proof, as if she needed it, that she couldn’t go deeper in-game without Tam. “The path should lead to our next quest giver. And don’t forget, each level is more dangerous than the last.”

“Ok. Let’s go.” His silver armor gleamed as he strode out of the ring. She noticed he was careful not to disturb any of the mushrooms.

Taking a firmer grip on her staff, she followed. The silence was thick in the forest, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the layer of pine needles carpeting the path. Grey mist filtered between the trees, making everything dim and hazy.

“Will the sun come out?” Tam asked. “It was a lot lighter the first time we played.”

“Every circle takes us farther into Feyland. In the center, at the court, it’s night all the time.” The memory of her moonlit battle shivered down her spine.

“I thought faeries were ok with daylight. They’re not vampires, are they?”

“It’s the Dark Court.” Even saying the words made her feel cold. There was a sudden ache in her chest, as though the part of herself that belonged to the queen had woken and was tugging at her.

Tam was silent a moment. When he spoke, she could practically hear the thoughts tumbling into place in his head.

“In that old book you lent me, there were two main courts. They weren’t called Dark and Light though.”

“Unseelie and Seelie. We’re in the land of Unseelie. Unfortunately.”

“So why aren’t the Light - er, Seelie - faeries around?” he asked. “Don’t all these guys live in the same world?”

“From what I’ve read, it’s kind of complicated.” She stepped around a bramble bush that tried to snag her skirts. “It’s not that any of them are good or bad, the way we think of it. This isn’t Tinkerbell running around sprinkling pixie dust, you know.”

“Actually, I’ve read that old story. Peter Pan. You know, she wasn’t a very nice little faerie. She tried her best to kill the heroine.”

“Exactly,” Jennet said. “They don’t have the same sort of morals as humans. The dark, the light, it’s all fluid. So the Seelie Court may be involved, or may be content to let the Dark Court go about its business.”

Something rustled in the underbrush, and Tam whirled, hand on his sword hilt. “Who’s there?”

There was no reply.

Then motion erupted around them. Thick black roots whipped out of the earth and snaked around Jennet’s ankles. Brambles grasped her skirts with spiky fingers, and the pines reached down, needles tangling into her hair and holding fast. Her mage staff was whipped from her hands and landed in a prickle bush, out of reach.

“Tam!” she cried, her heartbeat racing. She brought her hands to her head, trying to wrench her hair free. The trees held her fast, and her scalp burned from the pain.

“I’m trying!” Tam was slicing at the foliage holding her, but the bushes and vines were impervious. It was like his sword had been turned to useless plastic.

“Why aren’t they grabbing you?” She tried to kick free of the roots, but they were iron manacles around her ankles.

“No idea. Maybe my armor protects me. Are they hurting you?” He kept slashing, but it was no use. The underbrush wasn’t giving way at all.

“My head hurts, but I don’t think they’re trying to kill me.” After the initial attack, the trees seemed content to just keep her imprisoned.

“We have to get you free.” He slid his sword back in the sheath and grabbed her mage staff from where it had tumbled into the bushes. “Try this.”

She took her staff from Tam and pointed the end at one of the thickest roots, at a safe distance from her feet. White flame sizzled, and for an instant it felt like her bonds weakened - but then they cinched even more tightly about her ankles.

“Ow,” she said. “That didn’t work.”

“Look.” Tam pointed through the misty trees. “There are lights over there - and can you hear that music?”

She listened. “No. I don’t see anything.”

“What if it’s the Seelie faeries, Jennet? I bet they could help us. Anything that plays music like that has to be good.” A dreamy look moved across his face. He turned and took a step into the underbrush.

“Wait! Hold on - something’s wrong.”

She heard the music now. It whispered her name, sweet and low, promising help, promising that if she followed, everything she wanted would be hers. Jennet shook her head, sharply.

“Don’t listen, Tam.” It was hard to ignore the pull of the music - but she was hardly going anywhere, with the trees imprisoning her.

“They’re just over there,” Tam said, gesturing. “I’ll be right back, with help.”

“Tam, no… don’t go!” She tried to take a step after him, and fell to her knees as the roots held her feet immobile. The pines wrenched at her hair and she blinked back tears of pain. “Tam!”

He didn’t turn around, and now she could see the lights. Blue faerie-fire, glimmering and beckoning. The music was louder now, almost impossible to ignore. Obviously Tam had fallen under its spell. She called his name again, but he kept going without a backward glance.

She had to get free by herself - and fast.

Brute force wasn’t doing it. She looked at the roots, then hefted her staff again. She needed a different spell. What would work against plants? She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hammering of her pulse.

Heat. A soothing warmth that would coax the plants to wilt and droop like leaves on a hot summer day. Could she summon a gentler form of her lightning? Opening her eyes, she coaxed the spell to life, making waves of heat shimmer from the crystal set at the end of her staff.

For a long minute, nothing happened. Then the roots binding her ankles eased and the painful tangling in her hair lessened. Barely breathing, she kept sending warmth at the roots, the bushes snagged in her skirts, the pine branches overhead. At last, with a creaking sigh, the plants let go.

Yes! Jennet leapt to her feet and took a few hasty steps away. The roots lay quiet on the path, the pines no longer loomed over her.

But where was Tam?

The forest was utterly still. Heart pounding, Jennet picked up her skirts and ran in the direction he’d disappeared. Surely she’d catch sight of him just ahead.

But there was no Tam. Her fear swelled into the edges of panic. Deep in the forest something glinted. A flash of light, reflected off silver armor.

Lungs burning, she forced herself to go faster. The underbrush pressed against her, thorny brambles and thick-leaved skunk-cabbage, but she was getting closer to the lights. They resolved into glowing balls bobbing through the thinning trees. The ground softened, and in moments she was slogging through the shallow water of a bog.

A bog! Oh no. Wisps. Those were the pale balls of light, not help from the Seelie faeries. Tam was following marsh wisps, and they were luring him to his doom.

She caught sight of him up ahead, striding through knee-deep water.

“Tam!” she called, her voice high with fear. “Come back!”

He didn’t give any indication at all that he’d heard her. Instead he marched on, his face turned toward the pale orbs that floated ahead. Panic gave her a spurt of energy. She splashed forward through the murky water and caught his arm.

“Stop,” she cried, almost losing her footing. “Tam, you’re following will o’ wisps.”

He still didn’t look at her, but this time he spoke. “Can you hear it? It’s the most beautiful…”

Clearly Tam was entranced. She circled in front of him and placed herself squarely in his path. Her feet were beginning to sink into the soft mud, and the water was almost up to her hips.

“You have to listen to me,” she said, putting one hand out. “Tam Linn, you have to—”

He tried to slosh around her, and then stopped, shaking his head. The soft music seemed to grow louder and the wisps bobbed around them in a semi-circle of cold light. With a jolt of panic, she saw that the water was crawling up Tam’s armor. He was sinking.

“No!” She pointed her staff at the closest wisp and shot a bolt of white flame at it.

The wisp flared, then disappeared, leaving behind the smell of rotten vegetables. Jennet tried not to breathe in the stench as she shot the next wisp, then the next. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tam was up to his chest. He was going down fast.

Calling on all her energy, she sent a wave of fire rippling from her staff. The rest of the wisps ignited, their reflections blurring the water. Then they were gone, burned away to nothing.

“Jennet?” Tam blinked, as if his eyes had been focused someplace else. “What happened?”

“Wisps.” She gripped her staff tight and let out a shaky breath. “They lure people into the bog, to drown.”

Tam grimaced. “Sorry - I shouldn’t have followed them. That was dumb.”

“You were ensorcelled. But yeah, it was.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

“Um, we have a problem.” He didn’t move. “I’m stuck.”

“Ok, here.” She handed him her staff. “Use this for leverage. I’m going to push you from behind. Ready?” She went around him and laid her hands on the cool metal of his back. Chilly water lapped at her wrists.

“Stupid armor,” he said. “Ok, go.”

Her feet slipping, Jennet leaned and shoved and heaved, and finally, with a sucking splash, Tam stumbled forward.

“Keep going,” she said. “There’s solid ground just a little further on.”

They sloshed toward the trees, pushing past lily pads and thin reeds, until the water was below their knees. Jennet let out a long breath and shivered. They’d come too close to disaster. Another minute, and Tam would have been a victim of the bog. Would he have woken in real-life, gasping and choking? Would she have logged off to find him limp and lifeless in the sim-chair?

She shuddered, grateful to step out of the slimy water to the firmer ground of the forest. Tam was right beside her. His feet came free with a disappointed squelch, as if the bog wasn’t pleased to let him go.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, ducking his head.

“Yeah, well, we have to look out for each other here. You saved me last time. I figure it was my turn, right?” Her gown was clammy against her legs, and her shoes were filled with mud, but a crazy relief moved through her. “We make a good team.”

“True enough.” A smile flashed through his eyes, quickly gone. “Now what? Back into the forest?”

“I’m not sure I could find the path again. And I’m not a big fan of the trees attacking us, either.” She glanced around. The misty light made it hard to see, but to their right she thought there was some kind of a structure. “Do you see something over that way?” She gestured. “A bridge, maybe?”

He squinted. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s go check it out.”

As they got closer, the shape resolved into a stone-arched bridge. Which meant a road. Which meant that they could find a quest-giver and start progressing to the next level of the game - before it caused them permanent harm.

The bridge was tall, the road running on an embankment high above the murky bog. Deep shadows filled the spaces between the arches, and Jennet eyed the darkness. Anything could be lurking in there.

“Hm,” Tam said. “Did you ever hear that old story about the three goats trying to cross a bridge?”

“I was thinking the same thing. I bet there’s a troll - or some kind of guardian - under there.”

“Then we better give it something if we want safe passage across. What do you think - a goat?”

“I don’t think I can summon a goat. Besides, that’s just wrong.” She thought a moment, and then summoned some bread, honeycomb, and berries. Her hands overflowed with the offerings.

“Here.” Tam held out a basket. “Put them inside and rest a second. I’ll take it up to the edge of the archway.”

She placed everything in the basket, then wiped the stickiness off her hands with her damp skirt. The usual weariness from summoning twined around her, making her arms feel heavy.

“Do you think it’s going to be enough?” she asked.

“If I were a hungry troll under a bridge, this would be a feast. Throw in a pizza or two, and an army could cross over - even if everything’s banana flavored.”

“Hopefully it’s not too picky about taste.” She held her breath and watched as Tam carried the basket up to the shadowy arch.

“Hey, troll,” he said, setting their offering of food down. “We’d like safe passage over your bridge. Here’s a little something for you to eat.”

There was no response. Had they been wrong?

“Try again,” Jennet said. “Maybe it’s sleeping.”

He raised his voice and repeated the words. This time, there was movement in the dark recesses. Tam slowly backed up until he was standing beside her. He pulled his sword from his sheath with a low hiss.

A large, pasty-looking hand reached out from the shadows. It seized the basket, thick yellow fingernails curving around the handle, and drew it under the bridge. Jennet caught a glimpse of a doughy face and a mouthful of long, pointed teeth.

There was a chewing noise, and then a low sigh, like wind over stone.

“You may pass,” the creature under the bridge rasped.

“Quick,” Tam murmured, taking her arm and pulling her up to the embankment. “We don’t want it to change its mind.”

They hurried across the bridge, following the stone blocks stretching over the bog. With every step, the back of Jennet’s neck prickled. Halfway across, the bridge shivered. The troll was getting restless.

“Faster,” she whispered to Tam. “I don’t want to be dessert.” It was too easy to imagine that yellow-nailed hand reaching up and grabbing her ankles.

She and Tam sprinted the last few feet to safety as the bridge gave a final shudder. Then she looked up, and blinked in surprise.

The landscape had shifted while they traveled across the bridge, the rough-hewn stones of their path giving way to a dirt road bounded by low rock walls. The bog lay shrouded in mist behind them, while ahead, fields stitched the countryside. The setting sun was caught in the clouds.

“Sunset,” Tam said, nodding at the rays slanting red across the sky. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re not as deep in as we were.” She let out a low, shaky breath.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It depends. If we complete another quest at this level, the next ring will lead us closer to the Court. But we have to find somebody to give us one, soon.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forearm. “So, where does this road go?”

“I’m not sure.” She glanced at the winding lane ahead. “Nothing seems familiar.”

“I guess we follow it and find out,” Tam said. “Stay close.”

“Hey! I’m not the one who wandered off into the forest.”

“We still have to stick together.” He lifted one eyebrow. “A team, remember?”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Tam was always more relaxed in-game. It made her smile a little, inside.

It didn’t take long before the road dipped into a valley. At the bottom was a standing stone, a huge sentinel at least thirty feet high, gilded red by the setting sun. The wind lilted around them, almost a melody.

And then it was a melody - a sweet plucking of strings, the humming of a baritone voice.

Tam stopped. “Do you hear that? Is it more wisps?”

“It’s not wisps.” Shading her eyes with one hand, she squinted down the lane. There was a figure seated at the base of the stone, playing the guitar. Her heart gave a lurch. “Oh god. I think it’s…”

She leaned forward into a tilting run, her legs pushing hard against the earth while her pulse hammered through her. It couldn’t be. And yet, in Feyland, who could say what was possible?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Wait!” Tam called from behind her. “Who is it?”

As she hurtled down the road, the man set aside his guitar and rose. He opened his arms and she flew into them.

“Thomas!” Tears ran salty into her mouth. She clung to him, her father’s old friend, so familiar despite the odd clothes he wore. “I can’t believe it. You’re all right.”

“Well, now.” He gave her a final squeeze, then set her back at arm’s length. “You might want to tell your friend with the blade not to chop off my head.”

Jennet whirled to see Tam running toward them, his sword gleaming at the ready. “Tam, wait! This is a friend.” She couldn’t stop crying.

“Really. You don’t look too happy about it.” He didn’t sheathe his weapon.

She pulled her sleeve across her face, trying to dry her eyes. “Tam Linn.” Her voice still wobbled. “Let me introduce you to Thomas. Thomas Rimer.”

Tam’s expression went wary. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that the programmer - the guy you said died?”

“But he didn’t!” She turned to Thomas. “You’re here. We have to get you out of Feyland and back into the real world.”

“Jennet, stop.” Thomas’s voice was full of sorrow. “There is no return for me.”

“What? Of course there is.” She grabbed his arm. It was solid, real.

Thomas shook his head. “I’m the Queen’s Bard now. I made a bargain with her, and it cannot be broken. I belong to the Court.”

“What do you mean?” But there was a chill in her stomach. She knew how it felt to lose a part of herself to the queen. Had Thomas given away everything?

“We could help you get free,” Tam said, sliding his sword back into the scabbard.

“My thanks,” Thomas said. “But even if you could break the bonds that hold me here, I have no form in your world to return to. My body is gone, is it not? I left it behind when I followed the queen’s call.”

“But…” Jennet swallowed hard against the grief shaking through her. How could she have found Thomas here, only to lose him again?

“So,” Tam said, “You don’t really exist?”

Thomas gave him a weary smile. “What is real? What is illusion? Am I just a memory conjured from Jennet’s mind? Am I a wayward bit of programming, hidden deep inside a computer game? Am I one of the fey-folk now? It is for you to decide - and there may be no true answer.”

“I’ll never see you again?” Jennet tried not to wail the words.

“Of course you will.” Thomas ruffled her hair in an old, familiar gesture. “I will help you in every way I can. But tell me. What month is it, what day, in your world?”

“October nineteenth,” Tam said. “Why?”

Worry creased the bard’s forehead. “The days grow short - but there is still time.”

“Time for what?” Jennet asked. “What’s going on?”

“Come sit with me,” Thomas said. “I will tell you what I know.”

He took up his guitar, and then leaned against the weathered standing stone. Bits of melody drifted around them as he strummed the strings, coaxed free by his nimble fingers.

Jennet sank down beside him, but Tam remained standing in the middle of the road, his arms crossed. Thomas continued to play, as if there was nothing urgent or remarkable about the situation - two kids in the middle of a computer game, talking to a man five weeks dead.

“Tam, come on.” Jennet frowned at him. “Don’t you want to hear this?”

“It is better if he does,” Thomas said, still strumming his guitar. “I cannot speak loudly, in case someone, or something, is listening.”

“Fine.” Tam stalked over to them. His green eyes were wary as he glanced at Thomas.

The older man nodded. “It’s good that you have such a champion, Jennet. You’re going to need every bit of his courage in order to win free of the Dark Queen. And you must do so - before the end of the month.”

“But why?”

“Samhain.” Thomas played a minor chord, and Jennet shivered at the sound. “The faeries remember when they could pass freely in and out of the mortal realm, making mischief, taking lovers, sowing ill deeds and magic in their wake. The Dark Queen has promised them that time will come again.”

“So, what happens at the end of October?” Tam asked. Then he shook his head. “You’re kidding me. This is some cheap horror vid isn’t it? Something creepy happens on Halloween?”

“It is much older and deeper than that,” Thomas said. “All Hallow’s Eve is a time when the walls between the worlds grow thin. The time when a gateway to the human world could be opened. Under the right circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Jennet asked, swallowing the fear climbing up her throat. She was afraid she already knew the answer.

“A tiend.” Thomas’s voice was sober.

“English, please,” Tam said.

“A sacrifice,” Jennet whispered. “And… I’m it.” She turned to Thomas, suddenly cold to her bones. “Aren’t I?”

He nodded, his eyes infinitely weary, infinitely sad. “The Realm of Faerie is dying. It’s slow, almost invisible, but the rulers of the courts know it is happening. They cannot survive without an infusion of human energy.”

“Energy?” she asked. “Is that what the Dark Queen took from me?”

“And is taking. You must feel it, Jennet, the slow drain on your soul. That is the faeries’ need.”

“Right.” Tam folded his arms. “The computer game is stealing Jennet’s energy. Faeries and dead guys and sacrifices. Come on, Jennet, this isn’t Thomas. It’s some broken NPC.”

“Wait.” She glared at him. “We need to hear this, to figure out what’s going on.” She focused back on Thomas. “So, the faeries are some kind of psychic vampires? I don’t remember reading anything about that.”

Thomas kept strumming his guitar, the chords a soft backdrop to his voice. “These are desperate times for them, Jennet. And human energy can mean many things. A dream. A prank. A maiden’s kiss, a bowl of milk, a stolen child. Music. And sometimes, a life.”

“I don’t believe this.” Tam pushed away from them and began pacing. “I mean - this is just a game. A computer program. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in the real world.”

Thomas followed him with a sad gaze. “But this isn’t the real world, is it? The between-places have always been the province of the faeries. Dusk and dawn. The cross-quarters of the year. Why not the space we call virtual reality? It’s as between a place as you will find. Real, but not real. You are here, but not quite here. And here does not quite exist.”

His words fell like stones into a dark pool. Jennet could see them rippling inside Tam. He was smart - surely he would see that Thomas was right.

The red sun touched the horizon, and a sound echoed across the fields - a low, mournful call that sent a shiver through Jennet.

Tam whirled. “What was that?”

“The summoning horn of the Wild Hunt,” Thomas said. “They will ride at dusk, and the two of you must be gone from here.” He stepped away from the tall stone and slung his guitar over his back.

“What about you?” Jennet grabbed his hand. She wasn’t ready to let Thomas go again, so soon.

“Do not worry for me.” He smiled down at her. “As the Queen’s Bard, I will come to no harm. But you and your knight must make haste.”

“I can’t leave you,” Jennet said.

“You must.” Thomas squeezed her hand, then turned and pointed. “Follow the road east until you reach a stand of white trees. The passage to the next ring is there. And Tam Linn - follow your heart, and keep your lady safe. Now, go.”

Before Jennet could say goodbye, Tam grabbed her arm and pulled her down the road. She twisted, waving to Thomas, but the sun was in her eyes. All she could see was a shadow beside the standing stone.

“Come on,” Tam said. “Your crazy friend said we needed to hurry.”

To underscore his words, the deep horn sounded again. The last bit of light was caught on the crests of the stone walls. Soon it would be twilight. And the Wild Hunt would be after them.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tam kept his grip on Jennet’s arm, kept her moving forward. That was some insane stuff going on back there. The ‘dead’ programmer… he wasn’t sure he believed it, that someone could get sucked into a game like that. And the dark faeries creating some kind of gateway into the human world by sacrificing Jennet? Totally crazy.

Yet it all made a kind of creepy, convoluted sense. He needed time to think.

Right now, though, they needed to get out of Feyland.

“Jennet - what is the Wild Hunt?”

“It’s a ghostly gathering of huntsmen and hounds. According to legend, if you see them you either go crazy or die.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t know what happens if they catch us.”

“We’re not sticking around to find out.”

The last bit of light slipped out of the sky. In the distance behind them, he heard a series of excited yips, then the baying of hounds. The worst part was, he understood the cries. Scent! Blood! Our prey! The Hunt was on their trail.

“Now, we run,” he said.

He let go of Jennet’s arm and took her hand. He didn’t think she’d turn around and try to go back to Thomas, but no way was he letting her fall behind. Thomas’s last words repeated in his head, matching the pace of his running steps, the push of breath through his lungs. Keep your lady safe. Lady safe.

She wasn’t his lady, of course - except in the sense that he was a knight, and her in-game champion. Or something. But no matter what, he would keep her safe.

Maybe the faeries were planning to use her life to open a gateway between the worlds. His blood chilled at the thought. No way did he want the creatures in-game showing up in the real world. Games weren’t fun if you couldn’t turn them off.

“Slow… down,” Jennet panted.

“We can’t.” He scanned the edge of the road. “Do you see anything that looks like white trees?”

A sound like far-off thunder rolled through the air. Tam looked behind them. There was a growing darkness in the sky. Shapes, forming out of the clouds. But these weren’t the kinds of things kids saw in clouds - no dinosaurs or cartoon faces. These were spectral hounds with huge, shining eyes, and half-human figures on galloping black horses. And at the front, the leader of the hunt, a huge dark figure with antlers spiking up above his head. The Huntsman turned and Tam felt his attention focus on them, like a spear of black ice.

The entire Wild Hunt was visible now, a dozen mounted figures riding hard toward them. He could see the flash of hooves, the glowing eyes of the hounds. Panic pushed him and Jennet forward. The breath rasped in and out of his throat. Trees - where were the damn trees? There! A scatter of white up ahead marked the grove.

He risked another look behind them, and then wished he hadn’t. The hounds were too close, tongues hanging from their mouths, black paws eating up the distance. He and Jennet weren’t going to make it.

He let go of her hand and turned to face the hunt. Fear and adrenaline pumped through him as he drew his sword. If he made a stand, slowed the hunt for even a minute, she could get away.

“Go!” he shouted. “I’ll hold them off.”

“No. Not without you.” She stopped running and doubled back to stand with him.

“Jennet!”

“Together or nothing, Tam.”

There was no more time for arguing - the Hunt was upon them. Tam pointed his sword at the nearest hound, waiting for it to get in striking range. The wind whipped Jennet’s pale hair around her face and she raised her staff. She gestured, and a searing white light flashed out from where they stood, making Tam wince.

The hounds yelped and tumbled and the riders milled confusedly, but Tam could feel the Huntsman’s attention still fastened on them.

“Come on! That will only hold them for a minute.” Jennet grabbed his shoulder and they sprinted into the shelter of the trees.

The white bark glowed softly, lighting their way. They dodged around the trunks, and finally, finally stumbled into the faerie-ring clearing. Nothing had ever looked as good as the circle of mushrooms before them.

Jennet leaped into the center, but before Tam could follow, something took hold of his leg and yanked. Pain slammed through his senses and he glanced down to see a coal-black hound, its teeth locked around his calf. He pulled his sword and slashed at the hound, who twisted its body out of the way.

“Tam!” Jennet cried.

She had her staff pointed at his attacker, but he didn’t think she could get a clear shot - not with the way the creature was shaking and pulling at him. He cut downward again, connecting this time. The hound let out a muffled yelp, but didn’t let go.

On the outskirts of the trees, dark figures were silhouetted. Then the leader strode forward, the shadow of his antlers reaching toward Tam. Fear seized him in its strong fist.

He took his sword in both hands and drove it down, point-first. There was a spray of something hot and sickening across his face, and the hound let go with a screeching whimper.

“Hurry!” Jennet’s voice was high and panicky.

He scrambled to the ring, his left leg not quite working. Jennet reached for him with both hands and he managed to get inside without trampling any of the mushrooms.

An angry cry resonated through the clearing. Just before the swirl of golden light surrounded them, Tam saw the Huntsman. His cloak billowed out and his antlered helm was lit with an eerie light. The figure lifted one hand and pointed at them, but it was too late. The Wild Hunt’s prey had escaped.

“Ow!” Tam tried to pull his leg away, but Jennet held him firmly. He slouched back on the gaming-room couch and tried not to look at the bloody bite in his leg.

“Hold still. We have to disinfect this.” Jennet swiped again at the punctures, and he tried not to flinch.

Good thing she’d had an emergency kit in her bathroom. Of course, this was the kind of house that would be well-stocked for any eventuality. A bite from a nightmare hound? No problem. He sucked in his breath as she poked at his injury.

“Hey,” he said, “you’d complain too, if your leg had just been used as a chew toy by some demon dog. How come, when things get rough in-game, we can’t just hit the exit button?”

“There isn’t one.” She frowned. “It’s one of the things the designers are working on. We could ‘escape’ out, but that re-sets the whole game. We’d be back at Fynnod’s cottage again.”

“It might be better than being run to ground by the Wild Hunt. Although - that spell you used on them was pretty effective. What was it?”

“A light flash with a sonic blast. Too high for us to hear, but I thought it would get to the animals.”

“Nice choice - I never would have thought of something like that.”

She smiled a little, then rummaged in the emergency kit. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Just a little plas-skin to get you through.”

She lifted the can and sprayed, the contents sealing and soothing the bite. Welcome numbness spread through his leg, and Tam let out a low sigh. Jennet laid a bandage over his wounds and tucked the can of plas-skin away. When she looked at him again, her expression was serious.

“So, are you convinced now?” she asked. “Feyland is dangerous.”

“Yeah - it’s dangerous. To you, to me, maybe even the whole world, if what Thomas said is true.”

He glanced down at the bandaged bite. There was no fooling himself that he’d somehow gotten hurt on the way home - not like last time.

“I’m sorry, Tam. I never meant for you to get hurt. I was just so afraid, and I couldn’t get back in alone…” She looked away from him.

“I don’t blame you, Jennet. But this isn’t just your fight any more. What if the creatures in Feyland got through? We can’t let that happen.”

For a moment he flashed on a horrible image of the Wild Hunt riding through the streets of the Exe. His little brother, his mom, chased down and savaged by hounds with glowing eyes.

“I… I never wanted to put you in danger, too,” she said, her voice low.

She looked so miserable that he reached out and took her hand. It felt different than when he touched her in-game. The contact with her slim fingers jolted through him, but he didn’t pull away.

“Hey,” he said. “Sometimes we don’t really have as much control over things as we think. We’re in this together now. Ok?”

“All right.” She squeezed his fingers and an odd, breathless silence fell between them.

Tam cleared his throat. “I think I can stand now.”

Still holding his hand, she slowly drew him up. Their faces were close - so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. His heart raced, as if they were running from the Wild Hunt again. Her lips looked really soft.

“Miss Jennet.” HANA’s metallic voice sounded through the room.

Jennet jumped back and dropped Tam’s hand. “Um, yes?”

“Would you like to have the car summoned?”

“Sure, go ahead and call George.” Jennet gave him a weak smile and moved toward the hallway. “Guess it’s time for you to go.”

“Yeah, I should get home.”

Home, where his mom was slowly pulling herself together. He didn’t kid himself that she was better, but every day that she was around and functioning was worth remembering. He stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Jennet down the stairs. At least his leg felt good enough to walk on.

“See you tomorrow,” she said when they got to the door. Her gaze met his and held, her blue eyes clear and full of honesty. “And Tam… thank you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

That night, the Dark Queen haunted Tam’s dreams. Her midnight hair brushed his face while she whispered promises in his ear. She smelled of stars and roses.

Tam woke in the darkness, the scent of her still caught in his mouth. He lay awake, the silence broken by his brother’s soft snores, and tried to catch hold of the bits of dream floating in his mind. It was no use. He couldn’t remember her clearly enough. The only thing left was her laugh, sparkling like moonlight on frost.

When he woke again, sunlight was trickling into the room. His alarm buzzed beside him like an angry bee.

“Get up,” the Bug said from the couch, then yanked his own pillow over his head.

“You, too.” Tam sat up and pushed out of his sleeping bag. He smelled coffee. Mom must be up already - and cheerful as only her medication could make her.

“Good morning to the best boys in the world,” she said, coming in from the kitchen.

She handed Tam a mug of strong, milky coffee. Her hands shook, but Tam ignored the trembling and took a sip.

“Thanks - it’s delicious.” It didn’t matter that both the coffee and the milk were made from powder. Coming from her, it was the best thing in the world.

“Mmf,” his brother said.

“Hot chocolate for you.” There was a teasing note in Mom’s voice. She was so much better than he was at getting the Bug up and ready for school. When she was around.

When she wasn’t, Tam always ended up yanking the covers off his little brother and resorting to threats. He didn’t like it any better than the Bug, but nothing else seemed to work.

“Will you be home after school today, or are you seeing your friend again?” she asked.

“Uh.” He shifted and took a minute to find a shirt that wasn’t too dirty from the pile next to his bedroll. “Do you need me to come back right away?”

“Oh, honey.” She gave him a smile that lit her eyes. “I don’t mind either way. Peter and I keep good company. When he’s awake that is.” She cleared her throat, and his little brother suddenly sat up and started pulling on his clothes.

“Maybe I’ll go over to Jennet’s house again. If that’s ok.”

His mom spread jelly on a piece of bread for the Bug’s breakfast. “Jennet. So that’s her name. Do you still spend time with Marny, too?”

“Yeah. Though it’s been a while.” He hoped she wasn’t too pissed about it.

“I’m glad you have friends, Tam. Have fun this afternoon.”

Fun, yeah. Hopefully that wouldn’t include more in-game mangling. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“That would be nice. I’ll make your favorite potatoes. And if your friend Jennet wants to come, she’s welcome. I’d like to meet her.”

Tam stared at the floor. Guess Mom didn’t remember opening the door for Jennet, or the wrist-chip that was so out of place here in the Exe. Didn’t remember the patina of wealth that lay over Jennet, making their place look dingy and derelict in comparison.

He sighed. “Ok Mom, thanks for the offer. I’d better get going.”

“Bye, honey.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek as he went out the door.

It was painful, her affection - it made the emptiness when she was gone even worse.

“So what’s up with your system?” Marny asked Tam at lunch.

“Spread out all over the floor, that’s what. The Bug’s working on it though.” The kid was even making some progress, though it was going to be a long time before his rig was playable. If ever. He took a bite of mushy noodles.

“You going to Zeg’s to play, then?”

“No.” He finished chewing. “I’ve been simming at Jennet’s.”

“Ah.” There was a world of understanding in Marny’s voice.

He didn’t have to say that his mom was back, or defend his actions. No explanations necessary.

Marny glanced past him. “Speaking of Miss Fancy-pants…”

“You calling my name?” Jennet asked, setting her tray beside Tam’s.

She sat down and flashed a quick smile across the table at Marny. Then she looked at Tam and her smile tilted a little, unsure.

Marny pointed her fork at them. “You guys simming this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Tam said, at the same moment that Jennet said, “No.”

The other girl raised an eyebrow. “That kind of mutual understanding is really inspiring, you know. Keep it up.”

Tam sent Marny a warning glance, but she just looked at him, like she was trying not to grin.

Jennet touched his arm. “How’s your leg feeling?”

Her eyes were troubled, and he knew she was trying to remind him of how dangerous Feyland was. But it wasn’t her choice. Not only did she need his help, things would get severe for everyone if the Dark Realm opened a gateway between the worlds.

“My leg is great.” He swiped his hair away from his eyes, so that Jennet could see how serious he was. “What are you doing for Halloween? Got plans?”

She stilled and her blue eyes widened. Yep - direct hit. He didn’t think he’d hear any more argument from her about how he shouldn’t play.

Marny was looking back and forth between the two of them. “Planning a party or something?”

She clearly could tell they were talking in layers here, but there was no way for her to guess how very deep they were.

“Something,” Tam said. “We’ll let you know.”

Too bad Marny wasn’t a simmer. She was smart and level-headed - two things that would be assets if she ever set foot in Feyland. But that wasn’t going to happen.

She gave a quick nod, her black hair swinging above her shoulders. “Okay.” Her gaze moved to Jennet. “Whatever’s going on, watch out for each other.”

“We will.” Jennet’s voice was steady, though he knew she was worried.

He’d be worried, too, if he were marked as a human sacrifice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jennet tried not to glance at Tam too often during the drive to her house after school. Something had changed between them. Or at least, she thought it had. Yesterday, after escaping the Wild Hunt, after Tam finally and truly believed her, she had felt so close to him. She had even wanted to kiss him.

Heat crept into her cheeks and she made herself look out the window so he wouldn’t notice. It was just a crush. And no wonder - he was her knight in shining armor. In a virtual sense, anyway. Plus, they were good together. Solid partners in-game. Getting to be friends, out.

She wasn’t getting the same interested vibe from Tam now, though - not like she had yesterday. Which was good. Really it was. Boy-girl stuff would just make things too complicated.

Maybe later, after they had defeated the queen and figured out how to deal with Feyland, she could go thinking about kisses. But right now it was dumb of her to be so aware of Tam sitting quietly beside her in the back seat. Dumb to notice how his leg touched hers when the grav-car took a corner. Dumb to imagine brushing the hair out of his face and getting a good, long look into those guarded green eyes.

“So,” Tam said. She felt him turn to look at her. “What now?”

She hoped her blush had faded. “We finish the game.”

“No. We win the game.”

“Ideally, yes.” She glanced at the front seat, to where George was piloting the grav-car, then raised her eyebrows at Tam in warning. Better they not say too much where he could overhear.

Tam nodded. “So. How’d you do on that surprise quiz in history today?”

They talked about school for the rest of the ride. It wasn’t until they were in the gaming room, with the jammer on, that Jennet felt secure.

“We have the rest of the month to get to Court and defeat the queen,” she said. “It’s going to take three, maybe four game sessions. Provided we succeed at each level, and don’t get in serious trouble.” Like running into the Wild Hunt again.

“Two weeks.” Tam frowned and leaned against one of the gaming chairs. “That’s cutting it close, if what Thomas said is true.”

“And how ‘true’ was your gnawed-on leg, yesterday? Or have you forgotten that part?” Worry circled in her stomach.

“Ok.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall back down again. “Obviously the game is interfacing with another world. One that can affect our reality, at least a little.”

“More than a little,” she said. “The day I came over to your place and met, um…” She didn’t want to mention his mom, and by the shuttered look on Tam’s face, neither did he. “Anyway, on the way there, two zombed-out guys tried to give me trouble.”

“Hell.” He fisted his hands. “Did you run?”

She tasted her remembered fear. “No, they had me boxed in. But - and this is the weird part - my mage staff appeared.”

“Your staff? As in, a long piece of wood with a crystal on the top?”

“I know. I didn’t believe it either.”

“What did you do, whack them with it?”

“No. I blasted them.”

Tam had a way of drawing his eyebrows slightly together when he was thinking hard. She could just see it behind the scrim of his hair. Abruptly, he straightened. Concentration clear in every line of his body, he held out one hand, fingers curved.

“Are you - ?”

“Shh,” he said, his hand still extended. After another few, silent, moments, he shook his head. “No luck.”

“You were trying to summon your sword?”

“Yeah. Maybe it only works if there’s great need.”

“However it happened, it saved me. I knocked one guy out, and the other one took off. Maybe, like Thomas said, the boundaries between the worlds get thinner around this time of year.”

He let out a low breath. “I’m still trying to get how Thomas - or his spirit, whatever - could be inside the game.”

“He’s not in the game. He’s in the Realm of Faerie, but can interact with us through the game. You read that book I lent you. Faeries are great at enticing humans into their world. And their realm is every bit as real as ours.”

Tam got that thinking look again. “So, Feyland is just an anteroom between our world and the Dark Realm of Faerie?”

“You have to admit, it makes a weird kind of sense.”

He nodded. “Then, after we save you, how do we make sure the door on our side stays locked?”

It was an excellent question.

“Maybe Thomas will have some ideas,” she said. “Because I sure don’t.”

“We’ll figure something out.” He slid into the sim chair. “Come on. We have a game to win.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Tam relaxed as the game’s golden light surrounded him. The moment of disorientation he felt when entering Feyland made sense now. It wasn’t some trick of the visuals. It was an actual transition from the real world to - what had Thomas called it? A between place.

This time, they arrived in a ring full of twilight shadows, with not even a hint of sunlight. That was good, right? Jennet had said the darker the level, the closer they were to the court. The thought sent a shiver through him. A dream-fragment caught in his memory; the satiny texture of the Dark Queen’s hair, her midnight voice whispering forgotten promises.

“Tam? Are you coming?”

He gave himself a mental shake and looked up. Jennet had already stepped out of the mushroom ring and was watching him, her head tilted. The crystal on the end of her staff shed a bluish glow, illuminating the pale forest around them.

“You brought a flashlight,” he said. It was a weak joke, but she smiled anyway.

“No following wisps this time, okay?”

“I expect you to poke me with that if I do.” He nodded to the staff. “Lead on.”

The pale trees grew farther apart here, interspersed with clearings full of silvery grasses. They hadn’t walked for long when Tam became aware of a sound - a humming buzz coming from up ahead. Jennet halted.

“Do you hear that?” Her voice was hushed.

“Trouble?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never seen this place before. Everything in the game is changing.”

He set one hand on the hilt of his sword. When she started walking again, he was at her shoulder. If something jumped out at them, he could get between her and it in a heartbeat.

Nothing sinister happened, though. Just the noise getting louder until they reached a larger clearing, illuminated by a lantern set on a post. On the far side was a tumble-down hut, and just outside the door sat a bent old woman. The sound they had heard was coming from her spinning wheel.

“Come closer!” the spinner called, not pausing in her work.

The wheel in front of her turned at a furious pace as her foot worked the pedal. She had a handful of something that looked like cloud, which she was feeding into the wheel. Luminous white thread came out the other side.

“Greetings, goodwife,” Jennet said.

The old woman looked at them then, her eyes deep-set and piercing. She nodded her lace-capped head and let the wheel slow.

“Fair Jennet. And bold Tamlin.”

“Greetings.” Tam made a bow, and then glanced at Jennet, waiting to follow her lead. Was this a threat, or just a diversion? It was impossible to tell if this was originally part of the game, or if it was all Faerie, or a combination of both.

The old woman let out a cackle. “Which of you will help me spin, thus further in the world to win?”

“I will.” He took a step forward. It seemed that the old woman was their next quest-giver.

“Tam, no.” Jennet caught hold of his arm. “It’s too dangerous.”

“All the more reason for me to do it.”

A half-remembered bit of story snagged at his brain. Something about pricking a finger and falling into a deep sleep. Well, if he did, Jennet would just have to blast the old spinner by herself.

“We’ll do it together,” she said. There was a stubborn set to her jaw that said she wasn’t backing down.

“Heh!” the old woman said. “Four clever hands will lead you into faerie lands.” She stood and gestured to the wheel.

Tam perched on the stool and set one foot on the pedal. His booted foot looked cumbersome and strange beside the delicate wood. Hopefully he wouldn’t break the thing.

“Ok.” Jennet took up the downy stuff the old lady had laid aside. “Ready?”

He nodded and pushed down with his toes. The wheel began to spin. Jennet eased bits of the fluff forward between her hands, a look of concentration on her face. The thread they made wasn’t smooth, but lumpy and awkward-looking. As it wound onto the wheel, it was obvious where the old lady’s spinning had stopped, and theirs began.

“Faster,” the crone cried. “Spin and turn, spin and turn.”

Tam swore he wasn’t pressing any harder, but suddenly the wheel sped up. The humming noise began again, vibrating down to his bones.

“Tam!” There was a panicky note in Jennet’s voice.

“Keep going,” he said.

Somehow he knew that if they stopped, they failed. And they couldn’t afford to lose.

The wheel was a blur of motion - everything around them was twirling. He heard the old woman’s voice, as if from far away, call, “Round and round, then reach the ground.”

The stool vanished from beneath him and his teeth clacked together as he sat down hard. It was completely dark. He felt around in front of him, but the spinning wheel was gone.

“Jennet?” Fear stabbed through him. If they were separated….

“Here.” She sounded breathless.

A moment later, bluish light bloomed as the crystal from her staff illuminated their surroundings. Rough-hewn rock enclosed them on three sides. The fourth led into the shadowy dark of a tunnel. Jennet stood beside him, both hands wrapped around her staff. He was sitting on a dirt floor, next to a heap of bones.

“Nice. Any idea where we are?” He clambered to his feet and nudged the pile of bones with his boot. They didn’t look human.

“Some kind of cave - and I don’t think much of the décor.” She made a face at the bone-pile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Side-by-side they stepped forward into the dark opening. The tunnel was big enough that Tam didn’t need to duck his head, and wide enough that their shoulders just brushed as they walked. He kept one hand firmly on his sword.

The way twisted and turned, and they came to a place where the tunnel split. There wasn’t a clear choice - both tunnels were equally wide and dusty.

“Which way?” He kept his voice low. Just because they hadn’t run into any creatures yet, didn’t mean they were alone in here.

“Hm. Maybe this will help.” Jennet extinguished her staff’s light.

The darkness pressed against Tam’s senses. He blinked a few times, to make sure his eyes were open. Then, very faintly, he saw a glow coming from the left-hand side. It was reddish and didn’t seem too friendly, but it was better than nothing. Even if it led to trouble, fighting monsters would be a change from wandering lost in some dark and dusty cave.

He felt Jennet’s hand on his shoulder and he nodded, though it was too dark for her to see. From here, they’d go without a light. No sense in advertising their presence. He stepped forward, keeping his pace slow in case they ran into any obstacles. Her hand was steady where she touched him, and she seemed happy enough to let him lead the way. Ahead, the red glow was a sullen smudge against the shadows.

The light grew imperceptibly brighter with every step, but no more welcoming. The tunnel curved, and he heard sounds - a low thumping, the strange sibilance of a language he couldn’t recognize. A foul reek filtered through his nostrils; rotten food and singed hair. Eerie shadows danced on the rock wall, and the back of his neck prickled. He inched forward and quietly drew his sword. The ruddy light reflected off it like blood. What lay ahead?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jennet’s hand tightened on his shoulder as they rounded the curve. Tam swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and peered around the corner. His heart was pounding, deep and low, like some big tribal drum. This was like going through the Exe, where at any second bad things could leap out at you. Except that the bad things here were straight out of a nightmare.

His hand squeezed the hilt of his sword and a shiver crawled down his back. He was staring into a huge cave full of grotesque, green-skinned creatures.

Some of them were dancing beside a bonfire filled with bones. Others scuffled and fought, their gnarled fingers clawing, their sharp teeth gnashing. They had long, pointed ears and wore a motley assortment of coverings. Tam saw the tatters of a velvet dress, a crudely-tanned hide with half the fur still stuck on, and the glint of haphazard bits of armor.

They all had one thing in common, though. Every one of the creatures was wearing a skullcap or hood the color of old blood. Behind him, he heard Jennet’s sharp gasp.

“Red-cap goblins,” she breathed into his ear.

Tam nodded, keeping his gaze on the creatures fighting and cavorting. The air was full of their guttural, hissing language. They looked like they wouldn’t hesitate to tear him and Jennet to bits.

The fire flickered, and the goblins sent up a sudden rough cheer. A second later, Tam saw the source of their glee. There was another tunnel on the far side of the cave, and emerging from it were five goblins, dragging the corpse of a deer behind them. The creatures closest to it leapt on the dead animal, knives and teeth flashing.

A loud command made them back away, and from the right-hand side of the cave a figure rose. He was a little taller than the other goblins - which still made him shorter than Jennet. On his hideous head he wore a crown studded with rubies.

“Goblin King?” he mouthed to Jennet.

She nodded, her eyes wide and scared.

He looked at the far side of the cave again, to the dark tunnel the hunters had come from. That had to be the way out. But how were they going to get there?

The king was making some sort of speech, punctuated by thumps of his wickedly-barbed pike on the stone floor. Jennet pulled on Tam’s shoulder and he slowly backed up until the goblins were hidden from view. Without a word they kept retreating until the red light was no more than a smudge against the darkness. Jennet’s staff shed a faint glow, just enough to see their way.

“We need a plan,” she finally said, her voice low. “Got any ideas?”

“We can’t just fight our way through - there are dozens of them. Even if they’re afraid of my sword, or your magefire, they’ll overwhelm us with sheer numbers.”

“And the Goblin King won’t let us just traipse past, either. Unless…” She pressed her lips together.

“What?”

She shook her head. “I was thinking we could offer him a bribe - but he won’t accept anything conjured, and that’s all we have. Next time, remind me to wear lots of jewelry.”

“Do you think it will come in-game with us?” he asked. “Never mind. Ok. Fighting is out, so is bribery. So somehow we’re going to have to sneak undetected through a cavern full of hungry goblins.”

Jennet took a strand of her pale hair and wound it around her finger. “Do you remember reading something in that book I lent you, Tam? Wasn’t there a way to avoid the notice of evil faeries by wearing your clothing backwards?”

“I’m going to have to borrow that book again - and pay more attention.” He hadn’t known how essential the information in it would be. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to recall the page that listed protections against the faeries. “Let’s see. Cold iron: we know that my sword works, but probably not against a whole roomful of creatures. Holy water: like we have any of that lying around. Oh wait, yeah. Clothing worn… not backwards, but inside-out.”

“Do you think it will work?” She sounded nervous.

“We have to try.” He pulled off one armored gauntlet. “I can’t imagine trying to put my armor on inside-out. Do you think if I vanish this stuff, it will come back when I need it?”

“I don’t know why not. All right, turn your back.” She leaned her staff against the wall and gave him a look, eyebrows raised.

“Hey. No worries.” He vanished his gloves, then turned to face the rough-hewn rock.

There was a silky swishing sound. Despite himself, he wondered what Jennet would look like in her underwear. Did these characters even have underwear? He’d find out in a minute, when he switched his own clothing.

“Done,” she said.

Tam turned, fingers busy with the buckle of his sword-belt. “Are you sure you changed it? Your robe looks the same.”

“Of course I changed.” She smoothed one hand over the front of the silvery garment. “All the seams are showing - can’t you tell?”

Not really. He shrugged off his breastplate, relieved to find he was wearing some kind of homespun shirt beneath. Next were his boots and the armor covering his legs. Brown pants - good. He didn’t want to be flashing Jennet. Without waiting for him to ask, she turned away.

Quickly, he stripped off the simple clothing. There was underwear after all. He flipped the pants and shirt inside-out and put them back on. Then the sword. He was careful to twist the belt around, too, re-buckling it from the inside.

“Ok,” he said. “Let’s go find out how legit that old book is.”

Jennet turned back around and nodded at him, her eyes big and scared-looking.

Way too soon they were back at the end of the tunnel. The Goblin King was still standing, and the deer had been dragged in front of him. It looked like the creatures were getting ready to have a feast. Tam glanced at Jennet, who looked even paler. He hoped the goblins would cook the deer and not just dismember and devour it on the spot. If she threw up it would break their cover for sure.

He jerked his head to the left, where the cavern was quieter. Most of the goblins were looking at the other side, where the king was. If he and Jennet stayed close to the wall, they should be safe.

Provided this clothing thing actually worked.

Fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword, Tam stepped into the ruddy light. He took a slow step forward, then another, barely daring to breathe. Five feet in. Then ten. The nearby goblins didn’t seem to know he was there. He looked back to where Jennet stood in the shadows of the tunnel, and beckoned to her.

He could see her fingers clench around her staff, and for a second he wasn’t sure she’d be able to take that first step. Then her shoulders straightened and she came forward, as slowly as he had. Once he was sure he wasn’t leaving her behind, Tam started moving again. Maybe the goblins couldn’t see them, but he wasn’t betting on the ugly creatures not hearing or smelling them.

His nerves sparked, urging him to hurry, to run, but he kept his pace deliberate, forced his breathing to stay low and quiet. This was going to be a slow, dangerous journey.

Halfway around the cavern, he paused to let Jennet catch up. So far it had been simple enough to stay along the rock walls, but just ahead two goblins crouched against the stone. They were throwing white twigs on the ground, then scooping them up again in some kind of complicated gambling game. Tam looked closer and a chill snuck up his neck. Not twigs, but bleached finger-bones, knobby on one end.

The festivities on the other side of the cave were growing louder. He tried not to see what they were doing with the deer carcass. As soon as Jennet got close, he began edging out into the cave, giving the bone-throwing goblins a wide berth. Jennet followed him. When she was directly in front of the goblins, one of them stuck his long pointed nose in the air, nostrils flaring.

The goblin leaped to his feet and said something in the garbled language to his companion. It sounded urgent, and both Tam and Jennet froze. Had the creature scented them? The first goblin was waving his arms around. Then he pointed directly to where Jennet stood. The other goblin shook its head, and the first goblin leaped forward. Its arm brushed across Jennet’s skirt, and both she and the creature let out a cry - though the goblin’s was far more vicious.

Tam grabbed her hand and yanked her forward. Just in time. The goblin’s knife hissed through the air where she had been standing. Tam and Jennet dashed through the cave, the two goblins following. They were making noise now, but they still seemed to be invisible. Distraction. He had to create some kind of distraction.

There - a battered copper pot lay against the wall. Tam caught it up with his free hand and flung it into the center of the feasting goblins. A lucky throw - it flew right past the Goblin King’s head and struck the creature behind him.

The reaction was like kicking a hornet’s nest. Chaos erupted in the cave. Goblins drew their weapons, and warlike shrieks filled the room. The two goblins tracking them began leaping up and down, waving their arms and pointing.

Jennet picked up a wooden shield and hurled it behind them. Screaming goblins converged on it, gouging it to splinters with their knives and claws.

“No more time for that,” Tam said under his breath. “Run for it!”

Dodging and leaping, the two of them pelted for the tunnel. Almost there. Just a few more steps -

Clawed fingers sank into his arm, jerking him to a stop. He spun, to find he was face-to-hideous-face with the Goblin King.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Go!” Tam yelled at Jennet.

He tried to wrench himself away, but he couldn’t break the king’s grip. Left-handed, he scrabbled for his sword.

The Goblin King drew Tam closer, his yellow fangs terribly sharp, his eyes gleaming with malice. The hilt of the sword slipped out from under Tam’s fingers and he felt the edge of panic. Come on, sword! Finally, when it seemed the goblin was about to take a bite out of him, he got a solid grip and pulled the blade free.

“Ark!” the king screeched. He threw both clawed hands up to shield his grotesque face, and Tam scrambled backward into the tunnel.

From her place just inside the tunnel, Jennet shot a bolt of magefire at the Goblin King. He cried out again and staggered toward them, barking out commands. One long, crooked finger pointed toward the tunnel, and goblins surged forward.

“Let’s go!” Tam shouted.

Jennet gave him a panicked look, then picked her skirts up with one hand and dashed down the tunnel. He was right behind her. The noise of goblins scurrying after them grew louder. At any moment, he expected to feel sharp claws digging into his back.

The tunnel branched, and Jennet went left. She didn’t slow down, but he heard her panting for breath. Another branching, and she went right this time. They continued headlong, their way barely lit by the faint blue glow of her staff. The sounds of pursuit faded, but the back of Tam’s neck still prickled. Those goblins didn’t seem like the kind to give up easily.

“I have to rest,” Jennet gasped, slowing down.

“Ok. I think it’s safe for now.” He faced back the way they had come, sword at the ready. The only sound was Jennet’s breathing. After a moment, she stopped panting so hard. Tam’s own breathing evened out, but he didn’t let down his guard.

The tunnel was full of thick shadows. Then, suddenly, eyes shone in the darkness. A blur of sharp claws and red-capped creatures erupted toward them. Jennet gasped and began to run again, but Tam stayed behind. He swiped at the goblins, and the front ranks leaped back, yelping when his steel touched their flesh.

It was rapidly getting too dark to see. He whipped his sword at the goblins one more time, then whirled and sprinted after the faint blue glow of Jennet’s staff.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, which meant that the goblins would be closing fast, too.

“Quickly, come this way,” a high, familiar voice piped.

“Puck!” Jennet said. “Where are you?”

A little brown hand beckoned from the shadows. Squinting, Tam could just make out a jaunty figure standing in a small opening in the tunnel wall. If the sprite hadn’t spoken, they would have run right past.

“Are you sure that’s Puck?” He was tempted to poke his sword at it.

“Hush your mortal mouths, and come,” Puck said. “Or stay, and the redcaps will gnaw your bones.”

“Tough choice,” Jennet said, and slipped through the opening.

Tam hesitated. He didn’t trust the little creature - or the company he kept. But it was either Puck or the goblins.

“Tam?” Jennet whispered.

He couldn’t abandon her. He let out a breath and squeezed himself through the gap. It was a tight fit. Good thing he wasn’t wearing his armor.

“Conceal your light,” Puck said. “Softly now, softly.” He waved his hands at the opening they had just come through.

Tam blinked. In the moment before Jennet’s staff had vanished, taking its light with it, he thought he saw the tunnel walls close. Truth or trick?

Whether it was an illusion or not, the sounds of the goblins passing by were all too clear. Their guttural voices and the scritch of claws on stone made Tam’s blood surge. His fingers clenched hard over his sword hilt and he held his breath. Finally, the last sounds of marauding goblins faded away. He let the air slip out between his teeth.

“You may summon your light again,” Puck said.

A warmer glow pushed back the darkness this time. Tam looked over at Jennet. She was holding a glass lantern lit by a round ball of light.

She nodded at him. “You could summon one, too.”

“Makes it too hard to fight.” Still, he held the image in his mind. A moment later, a second lantern dangled from his fingers.

Despite the wave of tiredness that washed over him, there was something comforting about their twin lights. This part of the goblin tunnels seemed less menacing. Or maybe it was just having Puck with them, humming a tune as he led them forward.

“Um, Puck,” Tam said, “Where are we going?”

“Here and there.”

Jennet lifted her lantern. “As long as it’s away from the goblins, I don’t really mind where you take us.”

“Don’t say that.” Tam gave her a warning look. “Aren’t we trying to get closer to the court? I don’t want to end up in the middle of a marsh again.”

According to that book she had lent him, you had to be careful what you said around the fey-folk. There had been a whole chapter about bargains gone awry and the faeries’ tricky ways.

“The knight can take you closer in,” Puck said, “but if you need to go out, follow the stairway.”

“Hold up.” Tam stopped walking. “The knight? As in, the Black Knight? That’s a no.”

“But…” Jennet paused, looking from Tam to Puck.

The sprite laughed, the sound like high bells. “Do you fear to face him in single combat again, bold Tamlin?”

“I’d be a fool not to. And I don’t need any more souvenir cuts to take home, thanks.”

“He has already tested your mettle, bold champion. But you will need an escort if you desire to meet his Lady.”

An odd exhilaration swept over Tam. “You mean the Dark Queen?”

“Puck, are you sure?” Now Jennet was the one who sounded uncertain. “I don’t think we’re ready. There are more layers to go through, aren’t there? Like the Dark Forest and the Fey Fields—”

“The land is ever-changing,” Puck said. “The roads you once traveled have shifted, and the places laid by Thomas the Bard are all but gone. The realm returns to its own.”

Jennet looked worried. “So, you’re taking us to the Black Knight, who will take us to the queen?”

“Jennet.” Tam set his hand on her shoulder. “This is it, right? Boss fight? Isn’t that the whole point of the game?”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how the faeries operate. It’s never straightforward.” She curled her fingers into her palms. “We’re not ready. There are things about that fight - things you need to know.”

Puck was watching them, head cocked to one side. “Ah, Fair Jennet. How is it that you have not told your knight what exactly happened when the queen defeated you? Why have you not described the bounds of that battle, and its consequences?”

“I thought,” she sounded suddenly very unsure. “I thought we’d have more time. I was going to explain everything, as soon as we got out today.”

“What?” Tam stared at her, feeling like the ground had tilted under his feet. “Jennet - didn’t you think that information might come in handy? Sooner, rather than later?”

“I…” She stood with her head bowed.

The lantern light glowed golden in her hair. For an instant, his dreams of the Dark Queen receded. He remembered the odd stillness he had first noticed about Jennet. Her paleness, that waxed and waned like the moon. There was an otherworldly quality about her - but he had gotten used to it. Had practically stopped seeing it. And then his mom was back and, well, he should have paid more attention.

“Jennet,” he said. He couldn’t help the edge in his tone.

“Yes?” Her voice was thin.

Damn, he hoped she wasn’t going to start crying on him. Not that it would change the questions he needed to ask.

“Children,” Puck said, “We have no time for this. The Knight is holding a doorway open. We must not wait, or it will be too late to leave the goblins’ kingdom.”

“All right.” Jennet turned away from him and headed down the tunnel. Puck danced at her heels and sent him a mischievous look.

“But…” He was talking to empty air. Fine. He vanished the lantern and stalked after them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jennet hurried forward, barely noticing the rock walls on either side. Why hadn’t she been more honest with Tam?

Okay, she knew why. Secrecy was a hard habit to break. And she hadn’t wanted to frighten him off by revealing the price she’d paid. Besides, Thomas had told Tam that her energy was being taken by the queen. She hadn’t explained any further, and right after that they had run for their lives from the Wild Hunt, so maybe that bit of info had gotten lost. Plus, the right opportunity had never seemed to present itself.

There was another reason, too. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but she had made a few stupid moves. If Tam knew how badly she had lost to the queen, he could lose all respect for her. His good opinion mattered. Had mattered for a while, more than she wanted to admit. She could imagine the contempt in his eyes when she told him - so she hadn’t.

And now it could cost her everything.

“This way,” Puck said, tugging on her inside-out robe to get her attention. “The Black Knight awaits us.”

She looked up, realizing that she had marched right past another, smaller, tunnel with a purplish glow emanating from it. The thought of meeting the Dark Queen again made her whole body go cold. Her chest ached, and she recalled with sudden clarity the queen’s delicate fingertips holding a crystal sphere. Those star-filled eyes had held hers, the queen had declared victory, and searing pain had ripped through her.

Jennet took a quick breath. “I really don’t think the queen and I—”

“Come on.” Tam had caught up. “Much as I wish we’d talked strategy, didn’t Thomas say we needed to do this as quickly as possible?”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that. She pressed her lips together as Tam brushed past, one hand on his sword hilt. Did he have to be so drastically courageous about everything?

Well, that was why she had chosen him. It was just - they weren’t ready, either of them, to face the queen. It was too late now, though. Swallowing back her dread, Jennet vanished her cheery lantern and summoned her staff. The blue light pulsed oddly against the purple glow in the tunnel. Tam and Puck had gotten a few yards ahead, but she couldn’t make her feet go any faster.

In fact, it seemed as if the glow was pressing against her. After several steps, she felt like she was moving through syrup. She couldn’t hear anything, but ahead she saw that Tam and Puck had stopped in front of a glowing purple portal. The magical doorway was held open by the menacing figure of the Black Knight. He stood straddling the portal, one black-armored foot planted on the tunnel floor, the other set on a starlit hill. And behind him....

The Dark Queen.

Jennet couldn’t breathe - until she realized that she wasn’t the focus of that beautifully dangerous gaze. Tam was.

The queen smiled. High up in the air, faint frosty music played, borne by an invisible breeze. Her midnight hair stirred about her face, and she slowly reached her hand out. As if in a daze, Tam lifted his own.

“No!” Jennet pushed her staff through the thick air and sent a bolt hurtling toward the doorway.

It hit the purple light and sent up a shower of sparks. Puck leaped into the air and gave her an accusing look, then bounded across the threshold and disappeared. The Black Knight slowly lifted his foot from the rock floor.

Tam turned, a frown creasing the corners of his mouth. “Jennet, what the—”

“Don’t go with her.”

“I wasn’t—”

Too late. It was a brush of sorrowful melody, breathed through the half-open doorway. Underneath it, Jennet could hear ice. She shivered.

Tam turned, but the portal was closing quickly.

“Wait,” he called. There was something painful and yearning in his voice that Jennet pretended not to hear.

They watched in silence as the doorway shrank to a thin, purple line. Then it was gone. In the light of her staff, Tam’s face looked pale and young. She didn’t like it - didn’t like him looking so lost and vulnerable. He was supposed to be the strong one, the heroic knight, not the one who needed saving.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. “We could have—”

“What? Met the queen on ground of her own choosing and lost right away? Or let her lead you over the hills while the Black Knight lopped my head off? Something about that setup wasn’t right, Tam.”

He shook his head, but not like he disagreed. More as though he was trying to clear his thoughts.

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Now what? Puck took off. We get to wander around until the goblins find us again?”

“We can’t stay here.” She waved at the blank rock wall facing them. “Didn’t Puck say something about finding the way out?”

“He said follow the stairway. I haven’t seen any stairs though. Have you?”

“Not yet. But faeries can’t lie. They can bend and twist the truth, or make you hear what you want to believe. But if Puck said there’s a stairway, then there must be one.”

“Good. I’m getting pretty tired of these caves.” His hair had fallen back over his face.

Jennet started forward, not bothering to make some cheerful remark. Either they would get out, or the goblins would find and eat them.

At the place where their tunnel connected to the bigger one, she paused. Had they come from the left, or the right? All she remembered was pushing through purple light.

Tam came up beside her. He had re-summoned his armor, and it was a relief to see him ready for battle.

“Which way?” she asked.

He glanced both directions, frowning. “Wait a sec. Do you hear something?”

She held her breath. A faint sound, like dripping water or music, came from their right. “Yes. Let’s follow it.”

They walked quietly. The plunk and splash of single notes, single drops of water, grew louder, until it wasn’t a hopeful echo in her ears, but something real and solid. It was both water and music, and soon the notes became a melody - something she almost recognized.

Tam leaned closer, keeping his voice soft. “Is that an old ballad or something?”

“An old song, anyway.”

The name of it teased her memory. With each step, the tune grew louder and more familiar. When she finally remembered, she almost laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s a song called Stairway to Heaven. Thomas used to play it. In fact, that’s probably him up ahead.” For the first time since they ended up in the Goblin Kingdom, she felt like they were safe. Almost safe, anyway.

“Puck.” Tam made a face. “Follow the stairway. Right.”

Ahead, the tunnel grew lighter. In a few moments they stepped into another cavern. She sucked in her breath at the beauty of it. Delicate white stalactites draped from the roof. To one side, a bright blue pool of water reflected a ball of glowing light drifting in the center of the room. Music swelled and surrounded them, guitar notes played by a figure sitting on a pale boulder.

“Thomas!” she said. “I was right.”

The bard smiled at her and finished the last run of notes. “Well met, Jennet.” His expression sobered when he looked at Tam. “Tamlin. Beware the enticement of the Dark Queen. She weaves a shroud of enchantment that’s nigh impossible to break.”

Tam shifted, but didn’t reply.

Thomas sighed. “What day is it in your world?”

“Just the twentieth,” Jennet said. “We were here yesterday. Plenty of time still.”

“I hope it is so.” The bard’s deep gaze rested on her a long moment. “The next time you enter the world, you will be at the edge of the Dark Court. Do not tarry. You must defeat the queen and reclaim what is yours, before the gateway opens.”

“Yes, you’ve told us that before.” Tam folded his arms. “Got any ideas about how to defeat the queen? And what about making sure the door stays locked from our side?”

“Magic has a treacherous nature,” Thomas said. “Coming from the mortal world as I do, I know little of it, nor the how.”

“Some help you are.”

“Hey.” Jennet took a step forward. Why did Tam always get so irritated around Thomas? “He’s helping us the best he can.”

“The two of you must depart,” Thomas said. “There is a faerie ring in the back of this cave that will take you home. But you must promise me that you will speak together. There are things each of you knows that are of great import.”

Tam gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Like the details of a certain defeat at the hands of the Dark Queen. Little stuff like that.”

“All right.” She swallowed the dry fear in her throat. No putting it off any longer.

“Fare well, brave adventurers,” Thomas said. He set his fingers on his guitar again, played a flourishing chord, and disappeared.

“Thomas…” She was talking to an uninhabited boulder.

“Come on.” Tam jerked his head toward the back of the cave. “I can’t wait to hear your explanation.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jennet lifted the gaming helm. She felt woozy from the passage back through the golden light.

“Well.” Tam had unhooked from the system already. He stood beside her chair, arms folded. “I’m ready for that explanation.”

“Give me a minute. Jeez.” She sat up, then clambered out of the chair, on the opposite side from where he waited. “Want some tea? We could heat some water—”

“No. Talk.”

There was no avoiding it. She let out a slow breath, then went across the room and perched on the couch in the sitting area. Tam slouched down in a chair across from her.

“All right,” she began, but no more words would come out.

She bit her lower lip until it stung. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a mouthful of that disorienting light. Tam just watched her from behind his hair, his green eyes wary. God, she hated how this was going to feel. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it across her middle.

“Ok,” she tried again. “You know the kids with chips, the rich ones…”

The silence stretched between them, until he spoke. “The ones like you?”

“Yes.” She squirmed inside. Time to lay it all out. “The snobs, the bullies, the privileged. The ones who will kick you for being a loser, the ones who know everyone else is worthless. Those kids. Exactly like me.”

He frowned, though it wasn’t directed at her. “You’re not—”

“I was, though. Before.” She drew in a deep breath.

“Before what?”

“Before we moved here. Before I lost to the queen. I was arrogant, just like that. I thought that appearance mattered more than what was inside. I mean, I knew better, a part of me did, but when you’re surrounded by it…” She squeezed the pillow tighter. “Well, thinking like that becomes as natural as breathing. There was a kid at our school - and you need to know that it was a much richer school than the one here - anyway, she was so obviously poor, such a misfit. We made fun of her, all the time, of her raggedy clothes and hair that stuck out all over the place. She was different, and that made us, the privileged, that much tighter. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. That thoughtful expression was back on his face. At least he didn’t look like he hated her. Yet.

“What happened to her?” he asked.

“Nothing too dire, if that’s what you’re thinking. But we treated her badly, in lots of little ways. She was still there when I left. Maybe things are better now, since I told the teachers and admins about the bullying before I moved.”

“So - what does this have to do with losing to the queen?”

Jennet swallowed. “Thomas warned me about being unkind, but it’s a hard habit to break. Anyway, when I started playing Feyland, there was this little hob-type creature. Raggedy clothes and hair that stuck out all crazy-like. She kept showing up asking for my help, but she wasn’t acting like a quest-giver or anything.”

Tam sat up a little straighter. “So you refused?”

Regret burned through her. “I wish I could go back and change that. It was only little things she needed. Sweeping out a cottage. Hanging some clothes. Fetching water from a well. It would have been easy to do, but I blew her off.”

“Three times?”

“Three. Yes, the magic number. Because she was odd and poor and even in-game seemed worthless.”

“Like the girl in real life.” He shook his head. “Like me.”

“No! Not like you. Tam, I—”

“You found a poor boy who would be easy to use, huh? A loser.” His expression hardened into dislike - for her? For himself?

“It’s not like that!” She flung the pillow on the floor. Leaning forward, she grabbed his hands. He didn’t pull away. “No. Not a loser. I found the best gamer in the school, who turned out to be a pretty decent guy.”

He met her gaze, the hard look in his eyes easing. The feel of his hands in hers tingled through her. After a long moment he cleared his throat and sat back, slipping free.

“So. Your fight with the queen.”

She fished the pillow off the floor, but didn’t hug it again. “It wasn’t a normal kind of battle. Even then, I could tell things were getting odd in the game. Anyway, it started out with fighting. I was zapping the queen with my staff, and she was casting these dark spheres that floated around and protected her while doing damage to my character. But then things changed.”

The memory was hard to catch hold of, a hazy wisp of half-dreaming. There had been stars and a gibbous moon, and a silver goblet full of dark, perfumed liquid that she had almost, almost sipped.

“Changed?” Tam prompted.

“We weren’t battling any more. We were sitting together at a high table, and the queen asked me a riddle. I tried, but… I couldn’t answer it.”

“Do you remember what it was?”

She folded her hands into fists. The problem was, she had been trying for months to forget the whole thing. “She told me the answer at the end - it was Life.”

“Ok.” He gave her a cautious look. “What happened next?”

Jennet closed her eyes, pulling the memory up from deep shadows. “The queen smiled at me, a terrible, beautiful smile. She beckoned to a figure in the shadows, and there was the pathetic hob-creature. Show your true form, my handmaiden, the queen said, and the creature shuffled forward. She transformed, right in front of me, into a beautiful faerie maid.” Jennet shivered. “She laughed at me. Laughed and said that my own arrogance and blindness had cost me dearly. If I had helped her, she would have helped me in turn to solve the queen’s riddle. But I had not. And so I lost.”

Lost. Lost. The word echoed in her mind. She kept her eyes closed, hoping Tam didn’t hate her.

He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was sober. “You lost. And not just the game.”

“No.” She made herself open her eyes, but kept her gaze fixed on the plum-colored upholstery. “The queen said a part of me was now forfeit to Feyland. She inscribed some glowing runes in the air, and there was this ripping cold. Next thing I knew, I was out of the game. I was really sick - spent a week in the hospital. The doctors called it ‘summer pneumonia,’ as if they had any clue. And…” Her voice trembled, but she had to say this next part. “I think Thomas must have figured out what happened. I think he went in to get that part of me back, and ended up trapped forever. Not only did I lose, I… I was responsible for his death.”

Grief hit her, hard and sudden, like a punch to the stomach. She curled up and gasped from it. Tears of regret, of blame and loss, etched down her cheeks.

“Hey, shh. Hey there.” Tam was suddenly beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his hand stroking her hair.

He didn’t tell her everything was all right - they both knew that wasn’t true. He didn’t tell her not to blame herself, or to stop crying. He just was there, accepting. Somehow that made it easier to bear.

Finally she pulled herself together and breathed away the tears. She sat up and pulled her sleeve across her face, trying not to think about how she must look - her eyes red from weeping, her hair stuck to her cheek with tears. Tam didn’t seem to notice, or it didn’t bother him. Either way she was grateful.

“Better?” His voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it.

She let herself lean against him and took a deep breath. He was solid and safe, and for a minute, she let herself believe that things were going to be all right.

“Yes,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Give me a couple days to sort all this out,” he said, dropping his arm and scooting a couple inches away. “Feyland is intense, and what you just told me, well - somehow it all fits together. But I’m not ready to go charging in quite yet.”

“Me either.” She wished he would hug her again. “Anyway, it’s okay. We can take a day or two off. There’s still time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Tam slept late on Saturday. He was vaguely aware of voices - Mom and the Bug - before dreaming pulled him under again. When he finally woke, the house was quiet. Too quiet. No smell of coffee. No clacking of tools as the Bug messed with his hard-drive.

He kicked off his sleeping bag and scrambled to his feet. Mom had only been home a few days. Surely she hadn’t run off already? Worry clenched through him, but he forced it back. Maybe she left a note.

He checked the table three times, but there was nothing. With fear crawling up his throat, he stepped into Mom’s tiny bedroom. It was painted a soothing blue that did nothing to stop the worry hammering through him.

The inlaid box on the bookshelf, where Mom kept the money, was empty. God, she was gone again. But why did she take Peter? Or was his brother downstairs?

He pulled on his jeans and flew down the rickety staircase. The heavy metal door was locked. Finally the stubborn key turned and Tam heaved open the door. Empty, dark and quiet. No annoying little brother to be found.

Ok, breathe. Think. Mom loved Peter - she wouldn’t do something dumb like sell him for medical parts or turn him over to a gang boss.

So where were they?

His pulse roared. No, wait. That was some kind of motorcycle, the sound bouncing around from the street. It stopped outside the building. Tam went outside and locked the door, then looked around the corner.

A cop, in body-armor and a faceless helm, sat astride a cycle. The motor throbbed in time with Tam’s heartbeat. When the cop saw him, he cut the engine and glanced down at his hand-held.

“This 1329 Bittern Street?” he asked in a gravelly voice. He slanted a look up, at the shack they called home. The weak sunlight slid across his polished helm

“Yeah.” Tam shoved his hands in his pockets. This had to do with Mom and the Bug, he just knew it.

“You Mister Tam Linn?”

“I am.”

“Got ID?”

Tam lifted one shoulder. “Upstairs. What’s going on? Uh, sir.” It was like talking to the creatures in Feyland - best if you followed protocol.

“We got your family at the station. Your Ma’s in lockup, and your kid brother wants to come home. Got any more kin here? Anybody else responsible for you?”

“No. What happened?” He barely remembered to add, “Sir.”

“She tried a dump-and-run at the hospital. The orderlies caught her before she could get out. Most people do that with babies, though. Not bigger kids.”

“My brother is… different.” Oh Mom. What a stupid thing to try. He could figure out her reasons, though, and it made him feel queasy and heartsick.

“Well you gotta come up to the station and get the kid. Bring your ID.”

“What about my mom?”

“We keep her a few days. Counseling, all that.”

“But—”

“Station closes at three, and you don’t want the kid there overnight. Trust me.” Before Tam could say anything else, the cop fired up his cycle, patted his holster, and roared away.

Damn.

He trudged up the stairs. First thing to do was message Jennet and let her know their plans for playing over the weekend were dud. Then it would take a trip on three different buses to get to the station and retrieve the Bug. Would they let him see Mom? What would he even say to her?

Underneath the planning, part of his brain was kicking and screaming. How could she do this to him, to their family? How was he going to explain it to Peter? And how was he going to help Jennet defeat the queen when his own life was falling apart around him?

At dinner, Jennet sat quietly across from her dad and pushed her green beans around on her plate. Worry had curdled her appetite, and she didn’t know what to think of the terse message Tam had sent. :Life stuff, can’t come. See you at school:

He knew how close they were to endgame, how important it was. Whatever had happened, it must be serious.

“You’re quiet tonight,” her dad said. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Yes. No. But how could she possibly explain?

“I miss Thomas.” The words were out before she realized what she was going to say.

Dad’s face shuttered. “Me too, Jen. Me too.”

Well, that brought the conversation to a screeching halt. After a minute she pushed her plate away. “So, how’s work going?”

“Slowly.” He shook his head. “Without Thomas… well, we’re behind schedule. And the CEO is pushing us hard. She wants a release in time for the holidays.”

If only Jennet could get Dad in-game. She knew Thomas would convince him to drop the project altogether. But there was no chance.

Dad took another bite of meat, and then rested his hands on the table. “Isn’t your friend Tam coming over this weekend? George says he seems pleasant enough.”

Great. Her dad was grilling the chauffeur about Tam. She thought back - had they let anything about Feyland slip while in the car? Just because George was as quiet as rocks didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to everything they said.

“Um, Tam had something come up.”

She wished she knew what it was, or if there was any way she could help him. He seemed too used to dealing with stuff by himself. Did he even know how to ask for help? Or that it would be okay if he did?

Marie came in to clear the plates, and Dad nodded his thanks at her. Then he turned his attention back to Jennet.

“I’m sorry to hear your friend won’t be coming over,” he said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. Soon.”

Marie let out a sniff, as if to say he’s nothing but trash, but Jennet ignored her.

“He should be around sometime this week. Or maybe next weekend.” He had to be - next Sunday was All Hallow’s Eve.

Halloween. The knowledge sat like a cold lump in the middle of her stomach. One week. They had one week left to defeat the queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Isn’t Mom coming, too?” the Bug asked. He gripped Tam’s hand as they walked down the wide grey steps of the police station.

“She has to stay a little while longer.” Tam swallowed, dark worry sticking in his throat. “They need to talk to her and stuff.”

It was bad news, the system noticing their family this way. They had made him talk to a family counselor before they had let him see Mom. Basically, if she didn’t get herself together in the next couple days and promise to take her meds regularly, he and the Bug would be put in one of the state-run Homes. The counselor lady had made noises about eventually being placed with a nice family, if the system decided Mom was too unpredictable to take care of them. Yeah, right. Who wanted a sick little kid and his screwed-up big brother?

Not that it mattered, since there was no way he was letting the state suck them in. Which meant he and the Bug would have go to ground for a few days, until things shook out with Mom. The only place they could do that was deeper in the Exe. At least the cops wouldn’t bother looking too hard for them.

The only problem was, how would Mom find them? Assuming they let her out. Assuming she even wanted to find them. That thought cut his chest like he’d swallowed broken glass.

Figure the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow, to find them a place to hide out, get it stocked with everything they’d need, and then disappear. Leave a note for Mom, reminding her of their old signal system. Red flag in the window - danger. Yellow - things were ok. Then he and Peter would erase themselves from the system like missing pixels, blank spaces where two boys used to be.

You can’t live like that, part of his mind insisted. What about food? What about school? What about Jennet?

One thing was clear. He sure as hell couldn’t help defeat the Dark Queen if he were stuck in a Home. But they still had time. Hiding out with the Bug - that was only temporary. Until….

Well, until whatever. Right now, he couldn’t see more than a day or two ahead. His chest ached when he thought about Mom, so he stopped.

He squeezed the Bug’s hand. “How about an adventure?”

“What kind? I wanna go home.” Peter was looking up at him with big, worried eyes. The kid was too smart for his own good.

“Yeah, home first. But then we’re going to go exploring and, uh, build a fort.”

“In the forest?” A tentative smile crossed his brother’s face. “Like, in camping stories? Can we make a big fire?”

“No.” There wasn’t a forest around Crestview. The stand of woods in the park maybe, but it wasn’t big enough for them to hide out in. Anyway, they had to stay close, in case Mom…. He shook his head. “We’ll find a place in the Exe.”

“But Mom said we should never go there by ourselves.”

Tam stopped and bent down, so he was eye level with his brother. “Peter. We live in the Exe. Not in the middle of it, sure, but I go to school by myself every day after putting you on the bus. I go through the Exe all the time, and it’s fine.”

Liar. He went along the edges, like where their place was, and even there it wasn’t safe. But staying safe wasn’t an option any more. Only surviving. He’d heard stories about the Homes, and there was no way he was letting them get hold of the Bug. Or him, for that matter.

“It’s just for a little while,” he said. “We can pretend we’re camping in the woods. I’ll even get us some marshmallows.”

Sugar bribery. Good thing he had hidden some of Mom’s cash stash. He and the Bug would get through this. They had to.

It took the rest of the weekend to find them a bolt hole that wasn’t dangerously deep into the Exe, but far enough that the system would give up looking. Their hiding place was a low-slung building open on two sides, but there was a corner that was dry and out of the wind. Yeah, it was sketchy, and Tam knew it, but he couldn’t find anything better. There was some rank, weird smell coming from further down the block, and at some point rodents had taken over the building, but they were long gone now.

The hardest thing wasn’t getting their stuff there, or rigging up a couple of low-tech alarms - wires and cans filled with rocks - it was getting the Bug to keep his voice down. He was excited about their adventure.

“I want to show Mom our fort when she comes home,” Peter said from his makeshift bedroll, his voice rising. “Do you think she would let us build a fire? Hey, Tam—”

“Sh. It’s time you were asleep.”

“But we’re on holiday, you said so. I don’t have to sleep because I’m not going to school tomorrow. Can we go someplace fun? What about the park with the fountain, or the—”

“Peter, shush. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” Another marshmallow would shut the Bug up, but it would only be a temporary fix. The sugar would keep him up even later. Tam let out his breath in a low sigh. “I’ll take you someplace fun, but only if you stop talking.”

“Ok.”

His brother lay still for a half-second. He pulled in a breath, like he was about to say something, then stopped - remembering just in time that he was supposed to be quiet. Then he started wiggling again. His feet swished back and forth under his blankets, moving like wings.

Tam snapped off the thin beam of his flashlight. It was better if they were in complete darkness, anyway. Nothing to give them away. He scooted down in his sleeping-bag, then slipped his hand under his pillow. The cool plas-handle of their longest kitchen knife was comforting against his fingers. Not the best weapon, but at least they weren’t totally unarmed.

Would his sword materialize if he needed it, the way Jennet claimed her staff had? He damn sure hoped so. Even more, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. They would spend a couple of nights here and the system would let Mom go. They liked keeping families together, didn’t they? She would come back and leave the signal that it was safe, and they would go home.

Sure. Because everything always got better in their lives.

Tam squeezed his eyes shut. No way was he giving in to that hot prickle behind his eyelids. He made his breathing soft, and listened to the Bug’s feet moving quietly back and forth under the covers. Finally the motion got slower and slower, and Peter’s breath deepened into sleep.

The Exe was quiet. Well, quiet as it ever got. Random yelling from somewhere, too far away to worry about. The low rumble of motors and machines, and behind that, the hum of the bigger, better town of Crestview, bypassing the Exe. Going about its business.

Up on the rich people’s hill, Jennet was probably going to bed, thinking she’d see him at school tomorrow. But she wouldn’t. He and his brother had to be invisible for the next couple of days. Tam didn’t even want to turn his tablet on - everyone knew you could be tracked that way. Though at some point he’d have to message Jennet again, tell her not to worry. Too much. He could do that from the middle of the park, right before they left. Yeah, that would work.

He knew she’d worry. He could practically see the frown hovering on her face, pulling her brows together above her blue eyes. She’d tuck a strand of pale hair behind her ear and press her lips together. If he were there, he could touch the softness of her hair, coax her lips back into a smile.

For now she’d just have to wait, and he was sorry for it, but there was nothing else he could do.

A low, shivering noise woke him. Keeping his eyes shut, Tam slid his fingers around the hilt of the knife. He gripped it hard, his whole body taut with listening. Was somebody there? Had their hiding spot been discovered? Nothing had tripped the alarms.

The noise came again, and this time, Tam knew what it was. There was no mistaking that low, mournful call. It turned his bones cold and made his mouth dry up. The eldritch horn of the Wild Hunt. Hell. How could the Hunt be here, in the real world?

He lay absolutely still, trying not to breathe as the sound swept over the Exe - the high yipping of dogs, the pounding of hooves through the night sky, the wild skirl of bagpipes. The sound flowed through the air, filling it with shadows and things unseen. Images flowed, unbidden, into his brain.

A menacing, horned figure silhouetted against pale trees. The impudent grin of a sprite. A woman more beautiful than midnight stars, her eyes dark as sorrow.

Finally, the sounds faded. Tam exhaled, and it felt like the whole Exe breathed out with him. They were safe.

This time.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Marny!” Jennet called as she caught sight of the big girl in the halls. “Do you know where—”

“No. I have no idea where Tam is this morning, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jennet’s spirits sank. She had tried messaging him about a hundred times, but could never get through. “I just was hoping that you knew—”

“Look.” Marny crossed her arms. “It’s great that you and Tam are friends and everything. You probably know more about him by now than me, ok? So don’t bug me. Anyway, probably half the Exe is sleeping late. It was a crazy night.”

A chill crawled across Jennet’s skin. “A crazy night? In what way?”

“In a freaky-noises-echoing-around-the-sky-like-a-nightmare way. I should be asleep right now, if I had any sense.”

“Did it sound like… hounds baying and sort of screechy music? A low, deep horn? Like that?” Jennet’s throat was tight.

“Yeah, like that.” Marny narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about it?”

“It’s complicated.”

There, Marny’s warning not to pry, right back at her. No way was Jennet going to try to explain the Wild Hunt, here in the middle of Crestview High’s halls. Even if Marny believed her - and Jennet had a feeling she might - it was safer for her not to know.

“Marny,” Jennet said, “if you hear that again…”

She shivered, she couldn’t help it. The Hunt was loose in their world. And she and Tam were their prey. Please, let him be safe.

“What?” Marny asked.

“Just, stay inside. And, um, make a line of salt under your windows and doors.” She wasn’t sure that piece of lore about protection from the faeries was true, but every bit helped.

“Salt. Uh huh.” Marny gave her a searching look, and then shook her head. “I’ll see you around,” she said as she walked away.

Jennet took a deep breath as she watched the girl turn the corner. Tam was fine, he had to be. Maybe a little late to school, but she would see him soon.

Soon.

But soon never came. In Ms. Lewis’ World History class, Jennet couldn’t stop glancing at Tam’s empty seat. She looked over there so often that stupid Rod Dermont thought she was flirting with him. He wiggled his eyebrows and pursed his lips into a kiss, so Jennet stopped looking behind her.

All right. She had to find Tam, which meant going back into the Exe. The Hunt didn’t ride during the day, did they?

The last bell echoed behind her as she hesitated on the steps. George would be here soon to pick her up. Could she get him to take her to the Exe? Or should she call him and tell him to pick her up later? The rule was she had to be home by five. At least Dad trusted her enough to do what she wanted after school.

Well, if the Dark Queen opened the gate to their world, it would hardly matter. They had four days. Which meant she had to go find Tam.

She had her tablet out, ready to let George know to come by for her later, when the screen lit up. Message from Tam!

Her legs suddenly soft as dough, Jennet sank down on the steps to read. It was terse, like all his messages, but at least now she knew he was alive.

:Jennet, don’t worry. Need a day or two. Don’t come find me. Sorry. Tam:

Relief blurred into anger. Need a day or two? A day or two? They didn’t have that kind of time. What did he think this was, anyway? Some delusional fantasy of hers? She jumped up and paced to the street. How could he take this so lightly? She could die. Thomas had said as much, and Tam didn’t even care.

Ok, that was unfair. She tried to hold on to the anger, but it started tattering away. Behind its bright red curtain was a darker shape. Fear.

Whatever was keeping Tam, it had to be serious. Even more serious than defeating the Dark Queen. She had no idea what kind of trouble could be that bad. Didn’t even want to imagine.

Tam powered off his messager and shoved it into his pocket. Good thing the regular part of Crestview had reliable signal. He’d kept his text short enough that it couldn’t be tracked - he hoped. Even if it was safe to say more, he didn’t know how he could explain to Jennet that his life had fallen apart.

He grabbed his brother’s hand. Time to get moving.

“Hey, Bug. Let’s go look at the fountain again.”

It was on the far side of the park, right where they’d catch the bus back toward the Exe. No buses went into their neighborhood, of course, but they could get close, and both he and Peter were used to walking.

His brother smiled up at him, teeth ugly from the chocolate-coated ice cream he had just finished eating. “I like the fountain! Can I go in it?”

“No. That fence is there for a reason.”

Not that six feet of wrought-iron would stop his little brother if he really wanted in. But they had to stay under the radar, which meant no climbing fences and playing in forbidden fountains.

They were watching the water shoot and spray when Tam heard the distant cry of sirens.

“Alright, time to go.” He kept his voice even. Everything was fine. The cops could be going someplace else.

“But we just got here. Can’t we stay a little longer? Please?” His brother looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Extra please?”

Tam tilted his head. The sirens were definitely coming closer. “Nope. We’ve been here all day, anyway. Come on. Race you to those trees.”

Laughing, the Bug took off, with Tam close behind. He could feel the sirens wailing, prickling the back of his neck. When he reached the safety of the woods, he glanced over his shoulder.

The sirens abruptly cut out as two black and white grav cars pulled up to the fountain, lights strobing. Tam grabbed his brother’s hand and ducked behind the closest tree. He was aware of every sensation; the rough bark at his back, the warm, sticky hand of his little brother clasped in his, the breath rasping in and out of his throat. The Bug stayed quiet for once, as if sensing trouble. Which he probably did. Growing up in the Exe, you had to have decent survival instincts.

Tam counted to a hundred, then back down. Nobody had come for them. Were the cops gone?

Slowly, he peered around the tree. Empty grass. The fountain, oddly cheerful under the late-afternoon sky. No cars. No cops. He blew out a breath.

The Bug tugged at his hand. “Is it safe?”

“I think so.”

He surveyed the area again. The faint call of sirens moving away shivered through the air. It sounded like they were going to the other side of the park. Probably the cops weren’t after him anyway, but with the luck he’d been having, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Ready to go home?” he asked his little brother.

The Bug nodded. His eyes were wide, but not with fear, or excitement. Knowledge, maybe, and the good sense to not ask any questions. Had he heard the Wild Hunt last night? Tam could have sworn his brother slept through it, but now he wondered.

They stayed backed-up to the bushes until the bus arrived, then got on, no problem. It was a quiet ride to the outskirts of the Exe. The few other people who shared their ride didn’t pay any attention to the two of them, and the driver was supremely uninterested. The Bug didn’t make a ruckus of any kind, but as soon as the bus turned the corner out of sight, he started hopping on one foot.

“Ow, ow!”

“What?” Tam’s patience was melting like ice-cream.

“I stubbed my toe getting off the bus.”

“Can you walk? Because I’m not going to carry you.”

His brother hopped around a little more, then slowly put his foot down on the cracked sidewalk.

“It feels better. Can we go home? Not to our fort, but really home?” His voice tipped up, and Tam felt the yearning in it. It mirrored his own.

“Not yet. But tell you what. We can walk past it - as long as we stay out of sight.” It was too early to check for the sign that Mom was home and it was safe. But maybe….

“Do we have to go to jail with Mom for the rest of our lives?”

“Mom isn’t going to be in jail much longer. She’ll be coming home soon.” He hoped with everything in him that it wasn’t a lie. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Things are going to work out, Peter. Just a couple more days.”

He couldn’t promise that they were going to be fine. There was never any guarantee of that. Things were going to change though, one way or another, and he and his family were going to wash up on some shore. Whether it was a midnight faerie realm or the hard edges of the Exe remained to be seen.

They cut through the ragged alleys until Tam could see the ramshackle place they called home. See the empty window too. No point in getting closer.

“Tam? How will we know when Mom is home?”

“She’ll hang a yellow shirt up in the window. If she hangs a red one, we’ll know she’s there but it’s not safe.” If she could understand the hints he’d left in his note. If she made it home at all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

That night Tam’s sleep was broken again by the low call of the Wild Hunt’s horn, the baying of demon hounds. They seemed closer this time, and he hunkered down in his sleeping bag and tried to think invisible thoughts. Not here. Nobody here.

Cold light was leaking into the sky when he finally fell asleep.

The Bug woke him up early, asking where they were going to go that day. For a moment, Tam thought about dropping him off at school and spending the day sleeping. But no - they had to keep together and out of sight for another day or two. The Bug was way too conspicuous, and the system could easily get to him at school. All it would take was one call from a teacher and, poof - little brother whisked off.

He was not going to let that happen.

So he pried his eyelids open and dug up a couple protein bars for breakfast, then took the Bug to the mall. Peter amused himself by looking in the windows of all the stores, and talking about everything he saw. Even though the money was running low, Tam bought them both ice-cream bars.

If - he swallowed hard - if Mom didn’t get free of the system, he’d need to get a job. Not the errands he ran here and there, but something more serious. A steady job, that also gave him time to look after the Bug.

Sure. And money would just drip down on him from the trees, too.

At least there weren’t any cops around at the mall. He didn’t message Jennet, though he wished he could. Wished he could dive into Feyland with her and fight free of everything, the two of them emerging strong and victorious. Wished he could tell her how crappy his life was, how tired he was of being the glue in his family. Wished he could take her hand and touch the softness of her hair. He needed to feel something soft, in a life that was so full of hardness.

But the messager stayed at the bottom of his bag, silent and dark.

His sleep the next night was filled with restless dreams. The Dark Queen, so beautiful she made his breath freeze, stood before him.

Tamlin, she whispered, in a voice like smoke and snowflakes. She reached out, and her hand was cool on his cheek, her fingertips tingling along his skin. I am waiting for you.

His body yearned forward, but his feet were rooted fast. Frustration climbed up his throat. Why couldn’t he go? He was ready, more than ready to obey her summons.

Laughter chimed about him, a shimmering silver light that coalesced into three faerie maidens, dancing. They pulled scarves made of cobwebs and moonlight behind them. Whenever one brushed against him he felt it, bright and aching. The touch made him shiver with fear, with longing.

The queen stood farther from him now, watching from the shadows, her eyes luminous with mystery. I am waiting.

Tam wrenched forward, but the faeries were gone. Instead, the Black Knight was coming at him, his sword raised. With a shout, Tam lifted his hand, unsurprised to find his own sword there. The two blades met with a furious clang - and he was suddenly awake, heart racing, in the darkness of their makeshift shelter.

A different kind of noise jolted through him - a clatter of metal. The alarm he had cobbled together, a precarious balance of metal scraps across the door, had fallen. Beside him he felt the Bug stir, and he knew his brother was awake, too, and listening.

He groped under his pillow for the knife. Slowly, silently, he drew it out and shifted his grip on the handle. Breath barely stirring in his lungs, he listened. No footsteps. No light. No sound.

Wait. A skittering across the cracked cement floor. A faint rustle. And then laughter, impish and otherworldly. There was something familiar about that chiming sound.

Tam sat up. “Who’s there?”

A pale spark lit in the center of the room, then grew into a ball of light, cupped in Puck’s hand. The sprite sat cross-legged in mid-air, his clothes like tattered oak leaves. Tam heard the Bug draw in a quick breath full of wonder.

“Greetings, mortal boys,” Puck said. He grinned, sharp and feral. “What fancies invade your sleep?”

“I think you know.” Tam didn’t loosen his grip on the knife. “How did you get here? I thought faeries couldn’t cross over to our world.”

“Three days before All Hallow’s, the boundaries grow thin. You have been touched with elfin magic, Tam Linn, and so I come to you. I bring a warning, and an answer.”

A warning. Like he needed the sprite to tell him they were in trouble. On the other hand, Puck had helped them in the goblin caves.

“What is it?”

Puck stood and floated forward, coming to hover a foot in front of Tam’s face. It was hard to tell for sure, but there was a blurring behind the sprite, as if he had wings moving ten times faster than a hummingbird’s.

“The queen has marked Fair Jennet for her sacrifice,” he said. “Yet in the darkest moment trust your heart, Tam Linn, and make the hero’s choice.”

Whatever that meant. The sprite was as oblique as ever. Tam blew his breath out in an exasperated gust. “Great. Thanks.”

Quick as a blink, Puck zipped close to Tam’s face and gave his nose a painful tweak.

“Ow! Hey.” Tam brought his hand over his face. “That wasn’t funny.”

The sprite’s chiming laughter was joined by the Bug, and Tam divided his glare between the two of them. He should have known his little brother would enjoy the faerie’s tricks.

Puck floated slowly back, the ball of blue light glowing in his palm. “Farewell, mortal boys. Rest well, for the Hunt seeks elsewhere this night.”

Were they after Jennet? Tam rose to his knees. He had to -

“Tam?” The Bug’s voice held a plaintive note.

Right. His brother. He sat back down. Even if he could convince Puck to stay around, he didn’t think the sprite would be a very good choice of babysitter.

“I’m here,” he said. “Not going anywhere.”

The sprite looked at him, with luminous, knowing eyes. “Heed the old ballads, Tam Linn. Your lady awaits.”

“Wait. Which lady…” Tam began, but Puck was gone. Between one breath and the next, he had vanished. Only the afterglow of his light remained, printing blue sparks on the back of Tam’s eyelids.

“What was that?” the Bug whispered. “Was it magic?”

“Yeah. It was magic. You’re dreaming, in fact. Now go back to sleep.”

“But if I’m dreaming, how can I go back to sleep? I’m awake, Tam. Really I am.”

Tam let out a low, quiet breath. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, ok?” And maybe, if he were lucky, his little brother would believe that it had all been a dream.

Tam woke early. The morning air was cold, and he hunched down in his sleeping bag, hoping he could fall back asleep. His thoughts were whirling too much for that to happen, though.

Worry for Jennet circled, trading places with fear for Mom, and the looming shadow of the uncertain future. A future on the streets, looking after the Bug - a future where every night the Wild Hunt rampaged through the mortal world.

At least he could do something about that second worry. And he’d figure out a way to do it today. After school got out, he’d take the Bug over to Marny’s. She owed him a couple favors - enough that he could get the rest of the afternoon free. He and Jennet had to get back into Feyland.

I am waiting. It was a cobweb whisper through his mind.

Did the queen have the power to send the Black Knight after him? Was that what his dream had been about? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Win or lose, he and Jennet would face the queen. Today.

They had better win. The consequences of losing were too dire. Chill air snagged in Tam’s lungs. He would do whatever it took to keep Jennet from harm - even though the Dark Queen whispered in his dreams.

“Tam? Are you awake?” The Bug’s voice was slow and sleepy.

“It’s still too early, Peter. Close your eyes.”

“Don’t want to.” His little brother pushed out of his nest of blankets and sat up.

His brown hair spiked out in funny tufts from his head, and Tam tried not to smile. Although - his amusement dimmed - they didn’t have any running water to clean up with, and Tam had forgotten the hairbrush at their house. Pretty soon the two of them would look, and smell, like the dregs of the Exe. He was already starting to feel that way. Grime and hunger and tiredness had a way of gnawing at you, like a feral dog with a bone.

“Ok then.” Tam rummaged around in the pack by his bed. He pulled out two more protein bars and handed one to his brother. “Breakfast.”

“Ew! I’m tired of protein bars. Can’t we have eggs instead?”

“Look around you. Do you see a stove? A fridge? Don’t be an idiot.” Impatience made him snap the words out.

The Bug was quiet. Then a sniffle escaped him. Ah, damn. Tam scooted over to his brother and pulled him into a rough hug.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish we could have eggs, too.”

“I want to go home. How come we can’t just go home?”

Tam sighed and forced himself to speak gently. Inside, his own eight-year-old self was kicking his heels and demanding the same thing.

“I told you yesterday,” Tam said. “If we go home and they decide Mom’s not well enough to get out of jail, then they take us and send us to a State Home. And that would be even worse than this.”

“Wouldn’t we get eggs there?”

“If we did, they would be grey and slimy. Trust me, Peter. Hang in there. We just have to play fort here a little bit longer.” Please, let it be the truth.

The Bug’s shoulder’s drooped. Then he shot Tam a curious look. “Hey. What was that little guy, last night?”

Damn. He was hoping his brother had forgotten about Puck’s visit. “What little guy? You must have been dreaming.”

“I wasn’t! Tam—”

“Tell you what.” Tam gave the Bug’s shoulders a final squeeze, then folded the empty protein bar wrappers and stuck them in his pocket. No reason to leave trash around that showed they’d been sleeping there. “Let’s go by our house and see if Mom has left the signal yet.”

He was sure she hadn’t, but he’d rather deal with his brother’s disappointment than his questions.

“Ok,” the Bug said, scrambling out of his blankets.

They went quietly through the broken streets of the Exe. Fog hung in tatters, with no promise of burning off. A shambling figure blocked one alley, forcing them to make a quick detour, but nothing more dangerous appeared. Even the yellow-eyes down the street were silent.

Tam squished down the stupid hope that tried to spring up in his heart. Mom wouldn’t be home. And even if she was, there was no guarantee it would be safe. No use wishing for a yellow shirt hung in the window.

“Tam!” The Bug tried to whisper, but his excitement was obvious. His hand tightened in Tam’s, squeezing hard.

Tam blinked up at their window. Blinked again. His heart squeezed too, like the Bug’s grip had traveled into his chest. There, in the window. A yellow shirt.

“Come on!” The Bug started pulling him across the street.

“Wait. What if it’s not really Mom? What if someone else figured out my notes? What if—”

“Sheesh.” The Bug dropped his hand and pelted up the stairs, with all the confidence of a kid whose world has been restored. He flung the door open and disappeared inside.

Tam followed. He stepped carefully over the rotten tread near the bottom of the stairs. Hope wrestled with fear, like two epic monsters equally matched, teeth and claws ripping into him. He hesitated at the threshold.

“Tam. Honey.” His Mom’s voice was warm and soft and smiling.

She knelt on the floor, her arms around the Bug, and she looked good. Unafraid and peaceful, the way she hadn’t for a long time.

Tam gave the rest of the room a quick glance. No authorities lurking in the corners, no hard-faced counselors ready to take him and his brother away. Just the three of them. Their family. Tears, hot and heavy, reared up at the back of his nose. He sniffed to keep them from spilling over.

Maybe things were going to be okay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Two days. Two days. Jennet couldn’t get the words out of her head. Halloween was the day after tomorrow. Where was Tam? Was he all right? She hadn’t heard from him in too long.

“Miss Carter. Pay attention please.”

She jerked her gaze to the front of the classroom. Mr. Davis, the ever-grumpy math teacher, was pointing at a problem on the screen, clearly expecting her to solve it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Admitting her mistakes made her squirm, but it was better than trying to fudge her way out of them. Feyland had taught her that much.

“I expect more than that, young lady.” Mr. Davis scowled at her. Then he leaned forward, as though he were seeing her for the first time. “Go talk to the nurse at lunch. You’re not looking well.”

No kidding. Every morning for the last week, a paler and thinner Jennet had looked back at her from the mirror. Getting up was hard - she felt as though she hadn’t slept at all, tiredness weighted her bones so heavily. And last night….

She shivered. Last night she had heard The Hunt, close and insistent. The cry of hounds and horns had woken her, and she had spent the rest of the night curled under her blankets, clutching her old teddy-bear.

The teacher was obviously waiting for a reply, so Jennet nodded. “Yes, Mr. Davis, I’ll do that.”

Not that the school nurse could do anything.

She needed Tam. Needed to get back in-game. Needed to face the Dark Queen and defeat her, once and for all. If only she didn’t feel so weary.

Getting from one class to the next left her out of breath. By the end of the school day, she felt bruised and exhausted. At least she was so slow the hallways had cleared by the time she made her way to the doors.

It was grey outside, and cold. She pulled her coat closer and took small sips of the air. If she breathed too deeply, she’d get a coughing fit.

The grav-car was waiting beside the curb. As soon as George saw her, he jumped out of the car and opened the side door for her. Wow. She must look even worse than she’d thought.

“Miss Carter?” His words burbled, as though he were speaking underwater.

The sidewalk stretched and wavered in front of her, and she suddenly had no balance. Was she flying? Was she floating?

Then strong hands caught her, clasping her upper arms and keeping her from falling. She stumbled forward, and landed against Tam’s chest. Tam. Thank the universe.

She closed her eyes, and felt his arms slip around her. Warm. Safe. He smelled of fresh soap and, faintly, the dust of the Exe.

“Tam,” she mumbled. “I was so worried. What were you—”

“Sh. I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s get you in the car.” His voice held a tender note she’d never heard before.

She pried her eyelids open, and saw Tam exchange a look with George - a look of concern and mutual understanding, as though she were highly breakable. She would have objected, but it was too hard to think of the right words.

Tam lifted her onto the seat, and she saw George nod at him.

“Tam’s coming with us.” It came out a whisper, but she needed to be sure they understood.

“Of course, Miss,” George said.

“I’m right here.” Tam took her hand. “No worries.”

Fear hammered through Tam’s chest as he studied Jennet. Dark shadows smudged under her closed eyes, her skin was translucent, and she weighed barely more than air. No wonder the barriers between the worlds were growing thin. The Dark Queen was obviously sucking out Jennet’s energy, and fast.

They had to defeat the queen. Today.

They should have done it earlier, that much was clear. It was his fault that Jennet was in such rough shape - but there was no time for regrets now. Only action. And he had done what he had to, made the only choices he could.

The grav-car slid to a stop in front of Jennet’s house, and the driver turned back to look at Tam.

“Perhaps we should summon an ambulance.” George’s voice was concerned. “Just in case.”

Tam swallowed hard. They had to get in-game as fast as possible - but George didn’t know what the hell was going on, or how that would help. All he saw was Jennet, looking like she was thinking of dying.

“Ok,” he said. “But it’s not an emergency.” Yet.

“Then I will call a non-emergency team in.” There was a touch of wry humor in the driver’s voice, as if joking about it would keep the fear at bay.

“You do that. I’ll take her upstairs.” Tam brushed the back of his hand over Jennet’s cheek. She felt as soft as the sky. “Hey,” he whispered, “Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, pale blue, and she took a deep breath. “Are we there?”

“Almost.” He knew what she was asking. Not if they were at her house, but if they were in Feyland. “You up to walking?”

Behind her eyes, he saw determination. Saw her summon her strength. “Yes. Just…”

He helped her, one hand under her elbow, one at her back. Balanced her as she got out of the car, supported her while she stood on the walk. He tried not to act like he was half-carrying her. It must have worked, because George gave them both a relieved look.

“I’m still making that call,” he said.

“Good.” Because there was always a chance that he and Jennet would lose. Not that Tam would give that thought any room in his brain.

Gently, he turned her toward the house. As soon as the door closed behind them, she teetered. He swept her up in his arms. Good thing she didn’t weigh much.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hold still,” he said quietly. “It’s just the quickest way to get you to the game room.”

He settled her into the sim chair, locked the door, hit the jammer button, and then plugged in himself. Game. On.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

They stood in a pale grove, the usual ring of mushrooms surrounding them. Tam peered at Jennet, but in the dim light it was impossible to tell if her character looked any different.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She took a hesitant step, then leaped over the ring. Whirling, she grinned at him. “Good! Fabulous, in fact.”

“Glad to hear it. Do you think we’re close to the Dark Court?”

He stepped over the luminous mushrooms and glanced about. The sky above them was dusted with stars and the trees gave off a faint glow.

“Yes, we are,” she said. “Do you hear that?”

He tilted his head. Music twisted through the air, pulling at his senses. Pipes and fiddle and the steady beat of a drum. “Yeah.”

“Come on.” Staff in one hand she stepped forward, down the shadowy path.

Tam hurried after her and took her arm, halting her. “Me first.”

“Really, Tam, I’m—”

“This is my job. Besides, you know in a fight that the tank goes first and the spell-caster stays back. We have to do this right, Jennet.”

“Ok. But don’t go too slowly.”

“I won’t - but I’m not rushing into danger either, alright?” Without waiting for a response, he strode past her.

The shadows under the trees shivered as they passed, but nothing leaped out at them. The music was stronger now, the trees taller and more widely spaced. A silvery light gilded the branches, and Tam glanced up to see a crescent moon floating in the blackness.

There were lights visible before them now, too, floating glimmers that looked like fireflies. The path widened, and Tam curled his fingers around his sword hilt. This was it. The Dark Court of the faeries.

He and Jennet stepped forward, into a clearing. An odd purplish bonfire burned in the center, and figures moved around it, their silhouettes inhumanly graceful or oddly grotesque.

Just past the fire, directly across from where they stood, was a throne made of vines and shadows. On it sat the Dark Queen. She smiled at him.

His breath left his lungs, and forgot to return. Who needed breath when she was there? Half-whispered secrets, the taste of moonlight, a brush of midnight across his senses. Bright stars sparkled behind his eyes.

“Tam!” Jennet hissed.

Abruptly, his lungs decided to work again. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to look away. His gaze landed on the Black Knight, standing utterly still in the darkness behind the queen. Now that was an enemy he could fight.

Beside the knight were feasting tables covered with delicacies, and a group of musicians playing sweet music. Fabulously beautiful women with gossamer wings danced, small twiggy creatures swooped past, and laughter chimed like bells in the soft, dark air.

Then, sudden as a slammed door, everything stopped. The music cut off, the dancers halted, the laughter ceased. Tam felt every creature in the clearing turning to look at them, and fear skittered across the back of his neck.

“Fair Jennet. And Bold Tamlin,” the queen said, her voice full of smoke and promises. “Have you come to issue a challenge?”

“We have.” He took a step forward. “We are here to regain what was lost.”

“Is it so?” The queen’s voice took on an edge. “What I have, I won fairly. Now you would take it from me?”

“Not take,” Jennet said, “Win. I need it back.”

“Ah,” the queen said. “Need.”

The way she spoke that single word made Tam’s whole body tighten. Need. It echoed through him.

“Yes.” Jennet sounded scared, but defiant. It was her life they were talking about, after all. “I demand another chance.”

“So much trouble,” the queen said, “for something so simple. Are you quite certain, Fair Jennet? Are you willing to place your champion in such danger?”

“It’s not—”

“Her champion chooses this freely,” Tam said. He would not make this Jennet’s fault, no matter what the queen said.

“Ah. So bold.” The queen breathed the words. “Very well.”

She extended one hand, palm up, and a glowing sphere appeared there, cupped in her hand. Jennet gasped, and the queen laughed her chiming laugh.

“I see you recognize yourself, Fair Jennet.” The queen turned the globe back and forth between her slender fingers. Bright orange and pink flames were trapped inside the sphere, dancing desperately, seeking freedom. “But if you may have a champion, then so may I.”

There was a flash of silver, like a lightning bolt had struck the clearing, followed by bone-shaking thunder. The purple bonfire snuffed out. Tam turned, sword drawn, to find that he and Jennet now stood on a raised, circular platform. The fey-folk gathered around the edges, their expressions avid.

The queen and the Black Knight faced them. Tam’s blood surged, hot and scared. With a sharp smile, the queen lifted her hand.

“Begin!” she cried.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Something was wrong. Jennet felt it in the stares of the watching creatures, in the way her soul flickered within its imprisoning sphere. But most of all, she felt it when she looked at Tam.

He watched the queen with a determined expression, but underneath that was a yearning that scared her. They couldn’t win if Jennet’s champion was only halfway on her side. Okay, yes, the Dark Queen was gorgeous and magical, but she was the enemy!

Even as fear washed through her, the Dark Queen was casting a spell, the Black Knight drawing his sword. It was too late to do anything but fight. She only hoped, to the depths of her trapped soul, that Tam wouldn’t fail her.

A wave of shadows pushed forward from where the queen stood. Jennet raised her staff and sent a bolt of light into it, and another, another. The shadows danced back, temporarily at bay.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tam and the Black Knight raise their swords and clash together. Tam twisted and jabbed, his armor contrasting brightly with the flat black of his opponent.

“Ow!” A sharp sting lanced her ankle, followed by numbing cold.

Her moment’s inattention had brought the shadows creeping back, to twine, frigid, about her feet. The Dark Queen laughed, the sound like velvet with pins sticking out of it.

Pointing her staff downward, Jennet let out another blast of energy. With a hiss, the shadows receded again. Enough of this. She leveled her staff at the queen and summoned all her fear and anger. Whoosh! A sheet of blue fire sped toward the queen. The queen’s pale face glowed and her hair shimmered with sparks. She threw up her hands and shouted a command.

Jennet’s attack slammed to a halt. Then the backlash hit, knocking her to her knees. Blue fire streamed past, dissipating into the night. The watching fey-folk cheered their queen, in syllables strange and strident.

Slowly, Jennet got to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her and it was hard to catch her breath. That hadn’t gone well. She sent a glance at Tam, still trading blows with the Black Knight. His shield arm sagged and he wasn’t moving as fluidly as before. As she watched, the knight landed a blow to Tam’s shoulder that made her wince and sent him stumbling back.

The queen raised her hands again, and Jennet jerked her attention back to her own fight.

This time, skeins of darkness flew from the queen’s fingers, as though she were throwing black threads into the air. Jennet tried to knock them away, but they wrapped around her staff, then flowed to her hand and began twining up her arm. Sweet music and poignant regret filled her mind. She was weary. Better to lay down her staff and rest.

“You are too weak, mortals,” the queen said, her voice lilting with pleasure.

“Jennet!” Suddenly Tam was there. His bright blade sliced through the strands clinging to her staff.

She blinked as the Dark Queen’s magic slid away. Then, over Tam’s shoulder, she saw the Black Knight rushing forward, sword raised for a killing blow.

“Look out!” Jennet lifted her staff and sent a crackling bolt of blue-white fire at the knight.

It stopped him long enough for Tam to duck away and pull her with him. Together, they scrambled partway around the circle. When they had a little distance from their foes, they halted.

“Are you ok?” Tam asked. He sounded out of breath.

“Yes. You?” Could he hear the uncertainty in her voice?

He shrugged, keeping his face turned toward their enemy. “We’re not losing.”

“We’re not winning either. Tam - I think we should switch opponents.”

He looked at her then, a flash of stubbornness in his green eyes. “No way.”

“Yes way. As long as the queen holds my soul, I’m weaker than she is, don’t you see? You need to be the one to face her.”

“I don’t—”

“We have to try.” She put all her hope, all her trust, into the next word. “Please.”

He frowned at her, but she could see him hesitate. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement.

“Ha!” Whirling, she shot another bolt at the approaching knight, pushing him back a few paces. “Look Tam, I can handle him. Now go. Go.”

Tam shook his head. Then, giving her a look she couldn’t decipher, he turned and sprinted past the knight, his sword leveled at the Dark Queen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jennet didn’t know what she was asking - but she was right about one thing. They sure weren’t winning. Without giving himself time to think, Tam charged toward the Dark Queen.

Maybe if he were fast enough he wouldn’t get caught by her ethereal beauty, or fall into the starry pools of her eyes. He had to stay strong, be a champion. He was here to save Jennet.

Holding that thought like a weapon, he kept his sword pointed straight at the queen and kept going. Her lovely face stilled, her eyes widened, and Tam felt his heart rip. It was too late to turn aside. He waited in horror for his blade to pierce her beauty, for a shocked cry of pain to pass those perfect lips.

It didn’t happen.

One moment, the queen was before him, the next, his sword tip was jammed between the vines that made up her throne. He yanked at it, finally wresting it free. Smoky laughter sounded behind him. A touch, light as a whisper, on the back of his neck. He whirled, to find the queen standing there, unharmed.

“A bold champion,” she said. “I would give much to claim loyalty such as yours.”

Her words sparked pleasure through him. But he couldn’t give in. Squinting his eyes mostly closed, he swung at the queen again. This time, his blade passed through her as if she were made of fog. Her laugh chimed through the air.

“It is not so simple is it, brave knight? But look, see how your lady fares.” She gestured to the other side of the circle.

Jennet was illuminated by blue fire. She had etched a line of it in the ground between her and the Black Knight. He paced before it, unable to cross, while she sent flickering lightning bolts that burned and sizzled against his armor.

“You see?” the queen said, her voice a twilight caress. “They are well-matched. Just as you and I are, Tamlin.”

“No,” he managed to say, but somehow he was looking into the queen’s eyes.

They were fathomless, full of secrets he hadn’t even known existed. The scent of smoke and roses twisted around him, and his heart tightened. Dreams and longing pressed against his skin, against his soul.

The Dark Queen leaned forward. Her lips parted with promise, and for one fatal second he lowered his sword.

“Good,” she whispered, sending her breath into his mouth.

Then Jennet screamed.

Tam wrenched himself away from the queen. “Jennet!”

She was on her knees, the blue fire gone, her staff on the ground beside her, broken. Despair shone in her eyes. The Black Knight stood over her. Slowly, he lifted his sword.

“You have lost,” the queen said. She held up her right hand, showing Tam the sphere that held Jennet’s trapped soul. “Now I take what is rightfully mine.”

No! Defeat was bitter in his mouth, churned in his stomach. His fault. He had let the queen distract him, and she had done something to turn the battle – had used Jennet’s energy against her. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll offer you a bargain.”

“Yes?” The queen tilted her head and watched him, her expression knowing.

He felt as though his mind were moving at the speed of light. There had to be a solution here, a way to save Jennet. He couldn’t let her die.

“You’ve taken Jennet’s energy,” he said. “Practically drained her. There can’t be much left.”

The queen held the flickering sphere up and studied it a moment. The flames glinted in her eyes. “There is enough for my purposes.”

“But you could have more. You could have mine.”

“Tam, no!” Across the circle from him, Jennet gave him a wide-eyed look. “I’m the one who lost. You can’t do this.” Her voice hitched on a sob.

The queen smiled, as piercing as a shard of crystal. “You offer yourself instead? Bold, Tamlin.”

“Yes. Take me, and let Jennet go.” His mouth was dry. Still looking at Jennet, he scraped the words out. “Jen. Take care of my mom and brother. Tell them I love them. And I’m sorry.”

Tears glistened on Jennet’s face. “No. No. Tam, you can’t—”

“I accept your bargain.” The queen opened her hand, and the flames of Jennet’s soul flew free, streaming back to her. “Now, brave knight, you are mine.”

Tams’ senses whirled as the Dark Queen leaned forward. She placed her hands on his cheeks, her touch like cool starlight. He could see nothing but her terrible, lovely face. Hear nothing but the high skirling of pipes. Taste nothing but ashes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“No!” Jennet ripped the sim helmet off and lunged over to the other chair.

Tam lay there, still and pale. She put a hand to his cheek. His skin felt clammy, and he was barely breathing. Panic roared through her like fire, red flames nearly choking her, blinding her.

“Help!” she cried, running to the door and throwing it open. “HANA - Call an ambulance. Quick!”

“A medical team has just arrived.” The cool mechanical tones sounded through the room. “They will be with you immediately.”

Already? Jennet blinked. Before she could sort it out, two women in white medical gear rushed into the room.

“Miss Carter?” The taller one took her arm. “Let’s get you on a stretcher and down to the ambulance. We can—”

“What?” Jennet yanked her arm free. “It’s not me, it’s Tam. Over here. Help him!” She hurried to the sim chair where Tam was sprawled, unmoving.

The med techs exchanged a confused look, and then the first one joined Jennet. She took one look at Tam and sucked in her breath.

“Willis,” she said, “we need the full team up here. Stat!”

The second woman pulled out her cell, but HANA spoke first. “I have already alerted the crew.”

“Good.” The tech gave Jennet a sharp look. “Move away, please. We need to get him on the floor and start CPR. Willis!”

Jennet edged back as the other med tech hurried up. A minute later there was a flurry of white-uniformed activity in the room. She couldn’t even see Tam any more, just hear some equipment beeping and the techs throwing around terms she didn’t understand. At least Tam was still breathing. He had to be.

“Miss? Are you all right?” George set a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t seen him arrive, but she was glad he was there.

The rough sympathy in his voice was too much. Tears burst out of her, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to keep from falling completely apart.

She had failed. Failed and failed and now Tam…. Oh god, what was going to happen? What was she going to do?

George patted her back. “I’ve called your father. He’s on his way, and so is a heli from the hospital. We’ll get Mr. Linn the best possible care.” He gave her a curious look. “But you’re feeling well, yourself?”

Jennet took a deep, ragged breath. “Yes. I’m okay.”

She was surprised to find it was true. Tam had succeeded in that. Her soul was restored, while he….

The tears threatened to swamp her again. She had to hold it together and tell Dad what was going on. He would know what to do - he’d helped build the game, after all.

She wanted to go over and hold Tam’s hand, brush the hair out of his eyes, but the techs were busy putting him on a stretcher. They carried him out the door. Jennet followed, feeling useless.

The daylight outside came as a shock. The way she felt, she expected it to be night. Expected the whole world to be dark. It wasn’t right that the sun was shining while Tam could be…. She couldn’t even think the word.

Biting her lip, hard, she slipped forward until she could see him lying on the stretcher. There was an oxygen mask over his face, tubes hooked into his arms. His body was there. But his soul, his self, was not.

Was he sitting beside the Dark Queen in her court? Was Thomas offering advice and solace? Had Tam already forgotten about his life in the mortal world?

A sob choked her. Oh, Tam. It was all her fault.

A whooshing sound made her look up, to see that the med evac was starting to descend. Luckily the streets of the View were wide. Jennet edged over to the tall woman, who seemed to be in charge.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Yes?” The tech looked at her with impatient sympathy.

“Can I go with him? In the evac?”

“Are you an immediate family member?”

“Um.” For a wild moment she wanted to claim she was. But they’d find out it was a lie soon enough. “No. I’m not.”

The tech shook her head. “Sorry.” She glanced around. “Are there any family members here?”

“No.”

“You’re a friend?” When Jennet nodded, the tech thrust a tablet at her. “Someone has to fill this out. If you don’t know all the answers, do the best you can.”

Of course - they needed to know who they were taking away. Pressing her lips together hard, Jennet filled out what she knew about Tam. There were a lot of blank spaces when she was finished. She didn’t even know how to contact his mom, or what her first name was, or their address. But she knew how to get there.

Would George take her into the Exe? She wished Dad were home. There were too many things falling on her, all at once. She could barely stand up under the weight.

“Here.” She handed the tablet back to the tech.

The woman hardly looked at it. “We’re taking him to Central Hospital.”

“Central? But that’s not nearby.”

“He needs more than the local facilities can provide.” She lifted her head and called out, “Willis? We ready to go?”

The other tech waved an affirmative.

“But…” Jennet couldn’t help the shaking in her voice, couldn’t help the fear that grabbed her by the back of the neck and wouldn’t let go.

“He’ll be okay. We’ve got him on life support now.” The tech gave her a brusque pat on the arm, and then clambered into the evac.

Moments later the machine shot straight up. Jennet squinted until she couldn’t see it against the clouds any longer. Still she kept her face tilted to the sky, to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

“Miss Jennet, please come into the house.” It was George, his voice soft as he took her arm. “Your father should be here soon. We can wait for him inside.”

She moved numbly as he guided her back into the house and settled her in the downstairs living room. Marie was waiting, with a blanket and cup of hot tea. Not that anything could make Jennet feel warm. Still, she took a sip. It gave her something to do with her hands, her body, while her mind bashed against what had just happened like some kind of frantic animal inside a cage.

“George,” she finally said. “We need to let Tam’s family know what’s happened. Would you take me—”

“No, miss.”

“But, you don’t know where—”

“You need to remain here until your father arrives.” George got to his feet. “And of course I know where to go. I have driven Mr. Linn home, if you recall.”

“Oh. Right.” She had forgotten.

“I’ll bring his family to Central Hospital. To be clear, Miss Carter, do you know how many people I will be fetching?”

“Just his mom and little brother. I’m pretty sure.” That little apartment over the garage couldn’t hold more than the three of them, could it? Tam had never mentioned anyone else.

“Very good.” The driver paused for a moment and set his hand on her shoulder. “Tell your father everything that has happened. Everything.”

She glanced up, startled. How much did George know? “I will.”

“Good. Lars can drive you and your father to the hospital when you are ready. I will put myself at the Linn family’s disposal. I am certain your father would instruct me to do so.”

“Yes.”

George was right about that. Something terrible had happened to Tam here, at their house. Dad would take full responsibility. That was one thing she could always trust about her dad. He was as dependable as granite.

No matter how mad he got when he found out what had happened, he would take care of Tam’s family. The fear holding her neck picked her up and gave her a little shake, then set her back down.

George gave Marie a long look. “Take care of her.”

“Of course.” The housekeeper sniffed, as if she didn’t need the chauffeur telling her how to do her job.

It was quiet after George left, a heavy silence that muffled everything. Jennet felt as if she was lost in the middle of a blizzard. Everything was white and cold, and she had no sense of direction.

Then the front door slammed open and Dad rushed inside. He didn’t bother taking off his coat, but went right to Jennet and took her hands. His eyes were worried.

“I got an emergency notification from HANA,” he said, “and a confusing call from George. Something about your friend, Tam, and an ambulance. But you’re all right?”

She nodded, and his expression eased.

“Good. Jennet - what happened?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The question hung in the cold air. Jennet blinked, trying to find the words.

“Jen?” Her dad squeezed her hands.

“I…Tam…” She swallowed the lump in her throat, then tried again. “We were simming in Feyland and…Oh Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“In Feyland? You know that’s off limits!” He took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “All right, you were gaming, and then?”

“Tam made a bargain with the Dark Queen - she’s the last boss. And after the fight, he was just lying there unconscious in the sim chair. Dad, stuff that happens in-game affects real life. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. We have to go back in, together, and save Tam!”

“No.”

“But Dad, he could be dying!”

“Jennet, listen to me. Playing a computer game is not going to save your friend. And nobody is going to be using the Full-D system right now. It’s too dangerous.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly weary. “I never told you exactly how Thomas died.”

A shiver ran through her. “You said he had a stroke - a blood clot to his brain.”

“That’s what the doctors thought. But I don’t mean the exact diagnosis. When they found his body, he was hooked in to the Full-D system. He died while he was simming. And now your friend Tam… there’s something terribly wrong with the hardware. The neural interface of the helmet, something.”

“It’s not the hardware, Dad. It’s the game. Feyland is connected to another world, and I have to—”

“Jennet.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “I know you’re upset. But there’s nothing we can do except trust the doctors to take care of Tam.”

“But I’ve simmed a lot on the Full-D, and I haven’t—”

“You were playing right before you got sick this summer, weren’t you?” He gave her a penetrating look.

“I… well, yes, but—”

“And it landed you in the hospital for a week. So, no. No more playing. Those systems need to be examined, dismantled, and rebuilt from the bottom up.”

Oh no. A sick shakiness trembled through her. How could she go back in-game and fight to free Tam if the systems were down?

“There’s one more thing.” Dad cleared his throat. “About Thomas. He had recently found out he had invasive cancer. He was dying.”

Shock pierced the cold surrounding her. “But - what about treatment? Chemo and radiation and all that?”

“By the time they discovered the cancer, it was too late. He chose to not even try. In a sense it was merciful, the way he died. It was fast, and likely painless.”

Thomas had cancer? Terminal cancer? Had he made a deliberate choice to leave his body behind, and enter the Realm of Faerie? He hadn’t been able to save her, but it seemed he had some influence over the Dark Queen. Maybe without him there, Jennet wouldn’t have ever come home from the hospital that summer.

But Tam’s choice was different. He had a family, a life, a body to come back to. She couldn’t let him give all that up - couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing it had been because of her.

“It’s all right, Jen.” Dad squeezed her shoulders. “I need to get to the hospital, meet Tam’s family, and see what the prognosis is. Whatever happens, I bear the responsibility.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice nearly breaking. It was hers. Hers. “Can I come, too?”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Yes. I have to know.”

Every beat of her heart was fear and guilt and worry, carrying his name. Tam. Tam. Tam.

Tam held a heavy silver goblet to his lips. The scent of wine and spices tingled in his nose, but he didn’t drink. For some reason, he wasn’t supposed to. A memory flashed deep in his mind, like a silver-sided fish. He chased after it, but it was gone, submerged again in shadows.

Around him, the clearing was filled with glowing lights and high, chiming voices. The faeries came and went, swirling about their queen. Music floated through the air. He set the goblet down on the leafy table beside him and looked for the musicians.

There, at the edge of the clearing. A tall, twiggy figure playing the flute. Next to it, a squat, dark troll beating a hand-drum with gnarled fingers, and in the center, a man with a guitar. Tam squinted. There was something familiar about the bard.

As if sensing his regard, the man’s fingers stilled. He nodded to his companions, and then strode over to Tam.

“Well met, brave knight,” the musician said. “And how do you find our fair land?” There was something sad in the question, a weight that Tam didn’t understand.

“How should I find it?” He had a feeling he hadn’t been here that long, but he couldn’t remember where he had come from.

The bard turned wise, weary eyes on him. “You should remember that beauty and treachery exist in equal measure here. It is wise of you to take no food, nor drink.” He nodded to Tam’s untouched goblet.

Tam’s brain felt strange and sludgy. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the glittery edged laughter of the Dark Queen. One moment the air beside him was empty, the next she was there, luminous as the moon in a midnight sky.

“How now, Bard Thomas,” she said. “What strange tales do you tell our guest?”

The musician gave a short bow. “My lady, I do but discourse on the wonders of the realm.”

The queen smiled at him, but there was a sharpness to it. Tam shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.

“Enough talk,” the queen said. “Play on, bard. We have a taste for your music this eve.”

“As my lady commands.” Bard Thomas inclined his head. “Fare well, young knight. I shall play you a ballad ere our time here is done.” There was warning in his look, and a message that Tam couldn’t decipher.

The queen waved her delicate hand in dismissal, then turned to Tam. “Are you well, bold Tamlin?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t imagine saying anything but yes to the queen.

“Good.” She brought one hand to his face and set her fingers lightly against his cheek. A rush of heat and starlight went right through Tam. He barely heard her next words. “Tomorrow you perform a great feat for us, brave knight. Tomorrow we open the Gate.”

Her eyes were full of magic and mystery. Tam fell into her gaze, and didn’t bother looking back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The hospital room was dim and smelled of disinfectant, but Jennet barely noticed. She rushed to the side of the bed where Tam lay, and took one of his limp hands in hers.

Her dad stayed by the door, talking to the nurse who had shown them to Tam’s room. Without taking her eyes from the still figure on the bed, Jennet listened.

“What’s the prognosis?” her dad asked.

“We can’t say at this point,” the nurse answered. “He’s in a coma now, and seems stable. If there’s no change in the night, we’ll run some tests tomorrow.”

“The doctor mentioned possible brain trauma?” Her dad’s voice was strained.

“Sir, we really don’t know anything yet. Our specialists will be in first thing to take a look at him.”

Jennet squeezed Tam’s fingers. It was horrible, the way they were talking about him. Like he wasn’t even a person any more. Oh Tam. For the hundredth time, hot tears rose in her eyes. It didn’t seem like she was ever going to run out of them. Her body could shrivel up and desiccate, and she’d still be crying for Tam.

“Did his family arrive?” her dad asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Linn and her younger son are here. They went to the food court, I believe, but should be back soon. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the station.”

“Of course. Go ahead. We’ll just…” Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll wait here.”

Jennet listened to the nurse’s shoes squeak down the hall. Then there was only the quiet beeping of the machines Tam was hooked up to, the hum of technology. Despair sloshed through her. The hospital could run a million tests, and never find out what was wrong with Tam. Did they have a machine that could tell when somebody’s soul had been sucked into the Realm of Faerie? She didn’t think so.

She had to go back, confront the Dark Queen and get Tam free - before Dad had the system taken apart. Now that she had her mortal essence back, she felt so much stronger. But would she be strong enough?

Voices sounded from outside the door. Jennet looked up as two people walked into the room - a solemn-looking boy and the frail woman who had opened the door the time she had gone to Tam’s. They halted when they saw Jennet and her dad.

“Mrs. Linn?” Her dad had his hand out. “I’m Steve Carter, and this is my daughter Jennet. Your son was at our house today when the, er, accident occurred.”

Tam’s mom ignored the outstretched hand. “What did you do to my boy?” Her voice was low and full of pain. She turned and fixed Jennet with a hollow expression. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing.” It came out a whisper.

How could she possibly explain to this fragile woman with dark-circled eyes that her son had sacrificed himself inside a computer game?

“Now, Mrs. Linn,” her dad said. “I’ve arranged for you to stay in a hotel nearby, and all your meals until… That is, the hospital will do everything they can to determine—”

“I just want him back,” Tam’s mom said.

Me, too.

The little boy came to stand beside Jennet. He peered at the bed, then turned to look at her. Green eyes regarded her, so much like Tam’s that her heart squeezed tight with pain.

“I’m Peter,” he said. “But you can call me Bug if you want.”

“Hi. I’m Jennet.”

“I know.” He looked at the still figure in front of them. “I think he’s still in there.”

“So do I.”

Peter leaned forward. “Hey Tam,” he said loudly into one ear. “Wake up. Mom will make you some eggs if you do. And your computer is almost fixed.” He turned back to Jennet. “I broke his sim-system,” he said. “Not on purpose. I was fixing it. But it didn’t fix right. Tam says you have a really sparked system.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t want to talk about this. Behind her, Jennet could hear Dad speaking to Tam’s mom. His voice was low and reassuring, and she wished she could take some comfort in it. Knowing more than your parents was a terrible thing.

After a fidgeting moment, Tam’s little brother spoke again. “So, do you know Puck?”

“What?” Shock ripped through her like lightning. She glanced over her shoulder, but the adults weren’t paying attention. “What do you know about Puck? And keep your voice down.”

Peter’s eyes widened, but his reply was soft. “One of those scary nights, when we were in the fort, I woke up and it was still dark out, and Tam was talking to this little guy.” He screwed his face up. “Puck. He was just floating there in the air. He looked like a Pokemon who got old.”

“What did Puck say? Do you remember?” Jennet leaned forward. Her body felt like it wanted to take off, explode into action and run, run.

“Mhm.” Peter nodded. He didn’t say anything more.

Impatience flared, making her chest tingle with urgency. “Can you tell me what he said?”

“Yeah. He said…” Peter cocked his head to one side, clearly fishing for the memory. “He said heed the old ballands ‘cause your lady waits.”

“Anything else?” There had to be something more. Puck was obscure, but he’d give more than this slim hint. He had to.

“Nope. What’s a balland?” Peter’s green eyes were wide, full of questions. If Puck had said anything else, the kid wasn’t remembering.

Jennet wanted to kick something and yell. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, folded her hands into quiet fists, and concentrated on what Peter had told her. Heed the old ballands. Ballads? That made more sense. One of Thomas’s old books was filled with ballads about the faerie-folk. She hadn’t thought to look through those. They were just songs.

“Are you ok?” Tam’s little brother took her hand. His grasp was sticky and warm.

Jennet opened her eyes. “Maybe. A ballad is an old song that tells a story.”

“What’s a heed?”

“It means to pay attention to something.”

Maybe, just maybe, there was a ballad that could help. She glanced at Tam. His expression was still, his hair, for once, pushed back from his face and staying that way. The machines surrounding the bed gave off steady blips and beeps.

Ok. Halloween wasn’t until tomorrow. There was still time. Crazy hope sputtered to life in her heart. She had to get Dad to take them home, so she could start looking through her books right away.

“Who’s waiting?” Peter asked.

“Who what?” She pulled her attention back to the kid holding her hand.

“Puck said your lady waits.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Are you the lady? I hope you are. Your hair is pretty.”

I hope I am, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

In the grav-car on the way home, Dad talked. Jennet let the words wash over her. He’d explained things to Tam’s mom. Tam’s family would be taken care of, and VirtuMax would pick up the bills.

“Obviously it’s the Full-D hardware.” Dad was thinking aloud. “The wiring, the interface - we have to figure out what’s gone wrong. The company can’t ignore this. We can’t go into production.”

At least the game wasn’t going to be released. But what would happen when the company didn’t find anything wrong with their system? Would Dad believe her then?

Back at their house, they had a quiet dinner. As soon as she had pushed her food around enough to look like she had eaten, Jennet pleaded a headache and retreated to her room. She went straight to her bookshelves and scanned the titles. Where was that old ballad book?

Heart clenching, she pulled books out and piled them in haphazard stacks. There - English and Scottish Popular Ballads. Relief made her fingers tremble as she traced the faded green lettering on the cover. She opened it, wrinkling her nose at the faint musty odor clinging to the pages, and scanned the table of contents.

The ballads were listed by number, not title. She flipped to the section where the songs about the faeries were, and started reading. The Elfin Knight, The Wee Wee Man….

An hour later her head was full of images. Silver bells braided into a horse’s mane, jewel-studded goblets made of red gold, faeries leading humans astray. Humans tricking faeries in return. But nothing, so far, about escaping from the Realm of Faerie.

She turned the page, read the title of the next ballad, and froze. Then reaction set in - a punch to the gut that left her gasping. She blinked, but the words remained, the script indelible on the page.

Tam Lin

Heart thudding, Jennet read the song.

A mortal girl named Janet must rescue her true love from the Faerie Queen. Oh god, how could this ballad be here? How could a song hundreds of years old be about her and Tam? Her hands shook as she turned the page, her mind hazed with disbelief.

The night is Halloween, lady,

The morn is Hallowday,

And for to win me, win me well

Take heed to what I say.

Just at the mirk and midnight hour

The faerie folk will ride,

And they that would their true-love win

At Miles Cross must bide.

Jennet swallowed, the flavor of fear sharp in her mouth. Halloween was tomorrow. And even though she had no idea where it was, she had to be someplace called Miles Cross at midnight. There was enough time for her to go in-game and find it. Except that she couldn’t let Dad catch her - and he’d probably told HANA, and… damn. All right, she’d figure that out later.

Taking a deep breath, she bent over the book and read.

When she finished the ballad, a shiver ran through her. Did the Dark Queen really have that kind of power?

“Jennet?” It was Dad, knocking on her door. “Are you feeling any better?”

She shut the book and slipped it under of one of the stacks around her. “Yes. Come in if you want.”

Dad opened the door, but stayed at the threshold. “It’s getting late. I know it has been a… a hard day, but try and get some sleep. It will help.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Tam stood utterly still as two faerie maidens swirled about him. One fixed gilded oak leaves to the front of his tunic while the other wove a cloak of cobwebs about his shoulders. The faerie glade was glittering with excitement, but none of it touched him. He felt as if there were a layer of fog between him and the world. Between his thoughts and his heart.

In the shadows, Bard Thomas strummed his guitar. Silvery riffs of music blended with the laughter and motion of the fey-folk, and the words of Thomas’s song lilted to Tam.

“Tonight so mirk and deep we ride,

Depart unseelie from the glade,

This Hallow’s Eve the Hunt will bide,

To pay the tiend the Faerie Rade.”

Half of it sounded like gibberish, but it was clear the faeries were getting ready to go somewhere. And taking him with them.

“Brave Tamlin.” The Dark Queen’s voice slid over his senses like midnight silk.

He turned his head to see her standing beside him. Her dress was layers of moon-dappled cloud, with pale glimpses of her skin beneath. The scent of night-blooming flowers perfumed the air with their secrets. He felt dizzy.

“My lady,” he said.

She moved to stand before him, her slim body so close it made his skin vibrate. Her slender fingers caressed his cheek. Then she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. Stars exploded through his body, a rush of painful sensation like blood returning to a frozen limb. She tasted of spices and wild honey. Like everything perfect, and forbidden.

An instant later, the kiss ended. Tam clenched his hands. If he reached for her, she would slip through his grasp like smoke, laughing.

“You are strong and fair, my knight.”

“I…” Someone else had called him her knight. For a bare second Tam remembered pale hair, a soft smile - and then the memory was gone. Lost to the dusky magic of the faerie realm.

A hint of sorrow touched the queen’s voice. “A bonny offering you make. Would that I could keep you.”

“What’s going on?” Vague curiosity uncurled inside him.

“You fulfill your destiny, brave knight. And ours. Now - to the final preparations.”

The queen held a mask in her hands. Tam caught a glimpse of gold and crimson laid in opulent patterns. She lifted it to his face, and his vision narrowed. Directly in front of him stood a hairy brown figure holding the bridle of a white horse. Gold and crimson caparisons draped the steed, and tiny silver bells were braided into its mane. They chimed, high and delicate, as he mounted.

Before him, the Black Knight handed the queen up onto a chestnut brown horse. Then the knight mounted his own dark steed and held up one black-gloved hand.

The clearing grew still, the air hushed and expectant.

“Now, my court,” the queen said, her words falling, clear as frozen crystal, into the silence. “Now the gateway lies within our grasp. Now we ride!”

It was late - way late. Jennet lay in her bed, watching the numbers glow on her clock while her body grew cold and tight with fear. Ten. Ten-thirty. Light still shone from the crack under her door. What was Dad doing? Why didn’t he go to bed?

Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to go, go, go! Jump out of bed and get in-game. Save Tam, before it was too late.

But she couldn’t risk it, even though her stomach churned with fear. Not until Dad turned off the lights.

Finally, at eleven-oh-five, the house darkened. Jennet forced herself to wait another few minutes before silently slipping out of bed. The thick carpeting made her feet noiseless as she tiptoed down the hall. There was a game she used to play - moving so slowly and silently that she wouldn’t trigger HANA’s sensors. She held her breath and hoped she hadn’t forgotten the knack. She trailed one hand along the wall, careful to avoid the table at the corner. There was no way she could explain her way out of this if she were caught.

She closed and locked the game room door behind her, wincing as the lock made a quiet metallic noise. Still feeling her way, she fumbled for the jamming field switch. It hummed to life, and she let out a breath. Her lungs felt like they were made of metal, impervious to air.

The sim chair powered on smoothly, and Jennet pulled on the helmet, the gloves. Time to go.

Feyland unfurled, and she plunged into the swirl of golden light.

She landed, as usual, in a grassy circle, then fell to her knees while sick shudders racked her. Gasping, she fought back the sensation. Tam. She couldn’t waste time vomiting in a faerie ring. She had to find Miles Cross.

As soon as she stepped over the mushrooms, a thin hand tugged at her robes. “Quickly, quickly,” a high voice said.

“Puck?” She held up her staff. The blue glow illuminated the figure of the sprite. His usual grin was gone, and he danced back and forth with impatience.

“Of course it is I. Follow!” He dashed down the path.

Jennet gathered her skirts in one hand and ran after him. It was bad, if the sprite wasn’t even giving her cryptic hints and riddles. They must be nearly out of time.

They burst out of the forest of pale trees into a midnight landscape. Shadows lay heavy on the land, and there was no moon.

“Puck - where are you?” The blackness pressed against Jennet. She swallowed the sourness of her own fear.

“Here!” The sprite grabbed her robes again and towed her forward, at a speed that made her stumble.

Up one hill, then down. Up another, pressing forward through brambles that raked at her skin. Breath rasped through her throat.

Puck was grimly silent. Only the constant pull on her robes let her know he was still there.

Up ahead, a faint light shone through the dark. She squinted and made out a single lantern hanging from a post, illuminating the pale dust of two roads crossing. A crossroads.

“Miles Cross?” she gasped.

“Hurry!” Abruptly, Puck’s grip on her eased.

She whirled, but the sprite had disappeared. With his last command ringing in her ears, Jennet sprinted forward.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Jennet ran into the pale circle of light at the crossroads. The silence of the night was marred by her great, gasping breaths.

Nobody here yet. She had made it in time. She wrapped both hands around her staff and tried to get her breathing back under control.

She could make out a circle of standing stones in the darkness across the road. The trembling rush of her blood steadied as she looked at the stones, faintly illuminated by the lantern. Wait. She blinked and looked again. The stones themselves were softly lit, as though they were glowing with centuries of absorbed starlight.

A noise pulled her attention back to the road. Something was coming, something still distant - barely felt in the vibration of hooves, the faint drift of chiming bells.

Her heartbeat slammed through her chest. She had to hide - but where? Not the stone circle, it was too far. Her gaze darted around the shadowed edges of the light. There, a bit of leaves with a darker mass behind. A thorny bush, just big enough for her to crouch behind. She hurried behind it and knelt down. The soil was cool beneath her knees and a prickle grazed the back of one hand, but it was the best she could do.

There were lights moving along the road, some twinkling, some steady. The sound of bells was stronger. A soft wind swirled around her, carrying the scent of spice and frost. The Dark Queen’s court was approaching. And with them, Tam Linn.

The words of the ballad ran through her head. She had read them over and over all day, until she felt the shape of them burned into her brain.

Oh first let pass the black horse,

And then let pass the brown,

But quickly run to the milk-white steed

And pull the rider down.

Tam would be riding the white horse. She’d grab on to him - and then the transformations she’d read about would begin. No matter what, she had to hold on.

Something tickled the back of her mind. Something essential she had forgotten. Come on, what was it. Think! She covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the sound of the imminent faeries. Trying to block out the fear that rose in a dark, suffocating wave. The ballad said… it said…

At last they’ll turn me in your arms

Into a naked knight,

Then cloak me in your mantle green

And cover me from sight.

That was it; the green cloak. Oh god, she’d nearly lost before she’d even begun. She drew in a ragged breath, trying to imagine it in perfect detail. Long green cloak. With a hood.

“A mantle green.” She whispered the words.

It appeared, lying soft and heavy in her arms. She pulled it on, awkwardly, since she was kneeling on the ground, and tied it around her neck. Now she was ready. Barely.

The Dark Court slowed as they reached the crossroads. From her hiding place, she scanned the ranks of creatures. The very front of the company was led by a row of figures in pale armor, lances prickling up, faces covered by their helms. Behind them cavorted redcap goblins, their faces grotesque, their teeth glinting and sharp.

Other creatures, half-animal in form, trailed them. Was that walking clump of brown hair Fynnod? Before she could tell, a faerie with the head of a bird and feathery wings blocked her view. A delicate bevy of maidens followed, their hair like spun moonlight, silver bells edging their gossamer robes.

And behind them… she shivered. The Black Knight riding his black charger, forbidding in his midnight armor. Then came the Dark Queen, beautiful as an eclipse, on a chestnut mare. Jennet’s mouth went dry and she shrank down behind her bush, which suddenly felt far too small to conceal her. The black horse, and the brown. Where was the white horse?

The company halted and the queen spoke. Her voice was the edge of twilight, full of mystery and dark promise.

“My court, long have we waited. Long have we languished while our strength waned, deprived of the essence that sustains us. But on this eve we renew the land. On this eve we reclaim our ancient birthright. On this eve we open a gateway to the mortal realm!”

A clamor of fey and feral voices greeted her words. The queen raised one hand, and the noise subsided.

“Honor our sacrifice,” she said, “for he is a brave knight, and true. And now, we shall pay the tiend. Onward - the stones await!”

The faeries surged forward, and Jennet bolted to her feet. Fear sliced through her, sharp and unstoppable. Where was Tam?

The Black Knight thundered past. Next came the queen, her gaze fixed on the stones ahead, her face lit with unearthly beauty. Finally, finally, a white horse. The rider was garbed in gold and crimson glory, an ornate mask covering his face. It had to be Tam. Had to be. Jennet flung herself forward.

The horse was tall, but she was desperate. She managed to get her arms around Tam’s waist, even though he didn’t stop. Her shoulders burned as she was dragged forward. There was no traction, no way to pull him down.

“Tam!” she yelled. “Get off the horse! Tam, do you hear me?”

He didn’t even glance at her - it was like she didn’t exist. Jennet swallowed the desperate sob building in her throat. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure overtaking them. Some fey creature, ready to strike her down. Fingers numb, she ignored it and kept holding onto Tam. The figure drew up on the other side of the white horse.

“Get ready,” a voice called, and Jennet jerked her gaze up to see an achingly familiar face. Thomas. Here to help.

She nodded, and Thomas set his hands to Tam’s unresponsive shoulder. He gave a shove. Tam teetered a moment in the saddle then, finally, fell. Jennet’s arms were locked around his waist as together they tumbled backward to land in a bone-jarring tangle on the ground. Her side burned and she couldn’t grab a breath. The mask slid off to reveal Tam’s face, his eyes wide and confused.

“Tam!” Air whooshed into her lungs. She leaned forward and kissed him, a quick, relieved press of her lips to his. They would get through this. “Can you stand up?”

It would be easier to hold on to him that way. Her right arm was twisted uncomfortably underneath his waist, but she didn’t want to tug it free. Hold on - no matter what. Hold on.

“Jennet?” Tam shook his head, sending a swatch of brown hair across one eye. He sat up, and she shifted her grip, both hands tight around his arm. “I—”

A blast of thunder shook the sky, the sound so deep Jennet felt more than heard it. Her whole body vibrated, and she nearly lost her grasp on Tam again. The air brightened, as though the sun had leaped into the sky. She looked up, then wished she hadn’t. The night sky was now a tattered cloth, the stars blazing white-hot behind the scrim of dark, shedding an eerie, furious glow.

Around them, the fey-folk were crying out and covering their heads. The orderly procession was now a panicked jumble, the sound of bells clashing and discordant.

“HALT!” The queen’s command filled the air, like an echo of thunder.

Silence followed - an awful, frozen silence. The only movement was the Dark Queen, her face filled with a terrifying wrath as she rode to where Jennet knelt beside Tam.

“Brave knight,” she said, turning the force of her midnight beauty on Tam. “Rise, and mount again. The circle lies but nine paces on, and you shall be safe therein.”

Jennet bit her lip, hard. If Tam wanted to pull free, she didn’t know if she could fight him. “Tam,” she breathed.

He gave no sign that he’d heard her.

The queen’s face softened and she held out one delicate hand. “Come.”

“No,” he said. “I’m safe right here.”

Jennet swayed with relief. Then she saw the queen’s expression and stiffened again. It wasn’t going to be that easy. Of course not. There were all the transformations to get through. She tightened her hands around Tam’s arm.

“No?” The queen’s voice was a killing frost. “If you will not take leave of this mortal, then I shall make her take leave of you.” She raised an arm and cast her voice over the eldritch crowd. “The final price then they will pay, ‘ere I cry Tamlin’s away!”

Whatever that meant. Jennet looked at Tam, about to urge him to get up again, but the words stilled in her throat. He was changing, his features flattening out grotesquely, his limbs disappearing… she couldn’t hold his arm anymore because he had no arm.

The icy laughter of the Dark Queen cut through her panic. Jennet reached forward and grabbed what Tam was turning into. Scales slid under her palms, but she hugged him tight against her. The smell of something dry and ancient assaulted her nose. The body pressed against hers was one long rope of writhing muscle.

Snake! the primitive part of her brain shrieked, but she made herself hold on. Even when a sibilant hiss made her look up, right into a fanged mouth. Even when she felt the coiled tension that signaled it was about to strike.

A single whimper crawled out of her throat.

Hold on. No matter what.

The scales under her hand roughened, turned to fur. Another smell, rank and greasy, assaulted her senses. Tam had regained limbs, but they ended in wicked-looking yellow claws. Instead of fangs, she was confronted with a bear’s mouth, full of rending teeth.

Oh god. Hold on. It was Tam, under all that coarse black hair. He wouldn’t bite her. Please, don’t let him bite her.

The bear opened its mouth wider. She threaded her fingers into the fur and squeezed her eyes closed. The roar, when it came, shook through her. Midway through it changed from a bear’s bellowing to the threatening growl of a great cat.

She forced her eyes open, and met the feral gaze of a lion. Run! the mouse inside her squeaked. Death and ruin in those yellow eyes.

Don’t let go.

From a distance, she heard the Dark Queen’s voice, raised in wild chanting. The huge, furry body in her arms began to shrink and darken. It grew heavy and cool, one moment a live thing, the next inert metal in her hands. She looked down and blinked. A bar of iron lay in her palms.

They were almost done.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The iron bar began to glow. A sullen red at first, it started to give off heat, like a stove that had just been turned on. Jennet’s palms tingled, then stung, but she didn’t dare shift the bar from hand to hand. She couldn’t risk dropping it.

The metal got brighter, and with it the heat. She gritted her teeth and held on, despite the scorching in her hands. Despite the pain, the blisters forming on her skin. Her breath came in little pants, dry and shallow. Hold on.

The bar flared crimson. Too. Hot. Each breath carried a sob with it now, a high, keening noise she barely recognized as coming from her. She couldn’t… hold on. Dammit. Hold on.

It was like clutching a piece of the sun. So bright she couldn’t look at it, a pulsing gold-red that seared itself against her eyes. She couldn’t take her hands away - it felt as though the molten metal had fused itself to her body.

Agony burned into her bones. Her throat hurt, and it took a moment for her to realize it was because she was screaming. There was nothing left. Only pain.

And then it was over.

She bent, dry-heaving, tasting nothing but sour bile. She couldn’t feel her hands.

“Jennet?” It was Tam’s voice, shaky and close. “Hey, Jen. Look at me. Right here.”

She straightened, met his worried green eyes. All traces of his elaborate costume were gone. He knelt before her, naked.

“The cloak,” she gasped, fumbling at the ties. “We have to cover you.” Her fingers weren’t working - there was something wet and slick getting in her way.

Tam reached out and helped loosen the cloak, and together they spread it over him. When she drew the hood over his face, her hands left dark blotches on the cloth. Blood.

The Dark Queen swept up to them. Her eyes held hurricanes.

“Ill met, Fair Jennet,” she said, her voice cold with rage. “You have stolen the fairest knight in all my company.”

Jennet scraped in a breath. “You stole him first. I just took him back.”

She had, hadn’t she? A tremble started, low in the pit of her stomach, the first unbelieving stirrings of triumph. They had won.

“Brave Tamlin.” The queen turned to Tam, her voice changing to smoke and sorrow. “If I had seen what would pass this night, I would not have stayed my hand. Your mortal heart betrayed us. Better by far if I had taken it and given you one of stone.”

“I’d rather be mortal,” Tam said, “than sacrificed so the faeries could rampage through the human realm. You lost.”

The air grew chill. Frost sparkled in the Dark Queen’s hair. “The gateway remains closed, ‘tis true. For now.”

“Forever,” Jennet said.

God, she hoped so. She couldn’t go through this again. Her hands felt like lumps of wood attached to her wrists. If she looked at them, she knew she’d be sick.

The queen lifted her fingers and traced a silvery symbol in the air. “Begone from here, mortals. Be gone!”

The eerie starlight brightened to gold, and a wind began to whirl about Jennet and Tam. The edges of the cloak he was wearing lifted and spun.

“Wait!” Jennet reached for him. “Tam—”

Too late. Her words were lost in a flare of swirling light as she was hurtled back into her own world.

She fell into the sim chair with a whimper. Somehow her helmet and gloves had come off - and the chair next to her was empty. Where was Tam?

The door to the game room banged open.

“Jennet!” her dad yelled, running to the chair and thumbing off the jammer. “What the hell are you doing? I told you the system was dangerous and - oh my god.” He was staring at her hands. “What happened to you? HANA! Call George - and get me an emergency kit, right away.”

“Of course. Here you are, sir.” A cupboard door popped open from the wall. Dad pulled a medi-pack out and ripped it open.

“Jennet, your hands…”

Finally, she looked down. Bile rose in her throat, and she wished she hadn’t. Her hands looked like raw meat. The skin was gone, and blood oozed to the surface. They had hurt before, but seeing the damage made the pain blaze up. Hot tears pricked her eyes.

“Sorry, Dad,” she whispered, then tried not to cry out as he laid plas-skin bandages over her palms. “I had to save Tam.”

Face set, Dad just shook his head. “I’m taking you to the ER.”

“Central Hospital?” She had to find out if Tam was all right. What had happened to him when the Dark Queen flung them back into the mortal world?

She was probably grounded for life. But as long as Tam was all right, she didn’t care.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“We have to ask about Tam, Dad.” Jennet kept her voice low, though it didn’t seem like anyone else in the ER waiting room was remotely interested. The pain in her hands was a distant, fuzzy thing, numbed by the plas-skin Dad had slathered on and the pills he’d made her swallow.

“Not until we get your hands looked at.”

She knew better than to push it, though hope and worry knocked through her with every breath. At least she was in the same hospital as Tam.

It didn’t take long for the med techs to get to her. They peeled off the plas-skin, making worried, interested noises.

“How’d this happen?” one of the techs asked.

“I, um, touched something hot.” She couldn’t meet Dad’s eyes. It was true, just not in any way he could understand.

“More than touched it, I’d say.” The tech shook his head. “Luckily, it looks like you got the plas-skin on in time to stop any permanent nerve damage. You’re not going to be able to use your hands for a while, though.”

“Okay.” As long as Tam was all right, it was worth it. Was he all right? The question pushed through her, insistent as her own heartbeat.

Finally, they were done. Her hands were numbed and re-wrapped, and Dad finished signing the last of the forms, and then tucked his tablet away. In response to her pleading glance, he gave her a weary nod.

“We’ll ask at the main desk,” he said. “The techs here have enough to do without checking on a patient already admitted.”

“Thanks.” Her voice trembled.

The windows in the main corridors showed a pale sky. Dawn. All Hallow’s Eve was over.

The woman at the main desk looked up Tam’s record. “I don’t see any change,” she said. “Visiting hours start at seven, if you’d like to go up then.”

Jennet peeked at the desk display. “That’s only ten minutes from now. Please, could we go up early? He’s a good friend.” She lifted her bandaged hands and set them carefully on the counter. Playing the sympathy card.

“We’re here now, after all,” Dad said.

“Well…” The woman shook her head, but she was smiling. “Okay. But don’t tell them I sent you.”

“Thanks so much.” Jennet hurried to the bank of elevators and pushed the button with her elbow. It was strange to have no working hands.

As the elevator doors closed behind them, Dad cleared his throat. “Jen. I know you think that the game has something to do with Tam’s condition. And I know you think you were able to change it. But you should be prepared for the fact that he’s still in a coma.”

“I know.” Worry shivered across the back of her neck. But no matter what the receptionist had said, something had to have changed.

They got off on the fourth floor. Nobody was at the nurse’s station. Ignoring Dad’s cautionary look, Jennet marched down the hall to Tam’s room and peeked in the half-open door.

Three med-techs crowded around Tam’s bed. His mom was there, too, and his little brother. She slipped inside, holding her breath until she could catch a glimpse of him.

Tam. He was awake, hair falling across his face, green eyes open as he nodded at something a med-tech had said. Her heart opened like the sun breaking free.

Tam’s little brother looked up, and caught sight of her. He gave her a big smile. “Hey, Jennet! Tam waked up.”

Tears itched the back of her eyes. “Yes.”

She stepped forward, and one of the techs made room for her at the side of the bed. Behind her, she felt Dad’s solid presence. He put a hand on her shoulder, apology and forgiveness in that touch.

“Jennet,” Tam said.

Just her name, but it was enough. Their gazes locked. He was pale, and his eyes held shadows. Shadows she knew lurked in her own - memories of Feyland and their battles against the Dark Queen.

“Hi.” She wanted to touch him, but her hands were unwieldy lumps of gauze.

He reached for her, instead, and set one hand on her wrist, just above the bandages. His fingers were warm and alive, and her skin tingled at the touch.

They had won.

That night, Jennet dreamed she was in Feyland. She stood in a meadow of pale flowers. Above her the sky was pink with approaching dawn, and the air tasted of magic and possibility. There was a peaceful hush on the land, as though at any moment birds would break into full-throated song.

“Jennet?”

She turned to find Tam standing beside her. The light breeze ruffled his hair and pulled at his T-shirt. It was strange to see him without his armor. He smiled at her, something tentative and tender in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said.

A thousand other words danced on her tongue, things like thanks and sacrifice, fear and joy, hope and longing. Love. She didn’t know where to begin.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “I mean… it was a little confusing there for a while.”

“I’m all right. But how could you sacrifice yourself like that, Tam? I nearly lost you.”

Her heart clenched at the memory. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to throw her arms tight around him and never let go.

“I had to.” His eyes held hers, their expression unguarded. “Trading myself for you was the only way. But I’m glad you figured out how to free me.”

“Me, too.” She had to look away from him, or she’d start crying. “Puck helped, though. And Thomas.”

“Thomas. Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

“At least once.” The quiet answer came from behind them.

Jennet whirled, to see the bard. The first sunlight lay on his cheek and glinted in his wise and weary eyes.

“Thomas!” She hugged him, hard. “I was so afraid…but your book of ballads had the answer, and then you helped…” The tears she’d tried to hide from Tam tipped over onto her cheeks.

“Hush.” Thomas stroked her hair. “Your battle with the Dark Queen is over now. The gate remains closed. You and your champion both sacrificed much, but you have won.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Can you come back to the real world now?”

He shook his head, and she pulled away. She should have known better than to hope. Her voice trembled. “Will I see you again?”

“Perchance. I have an inkling that the magic of Faerie is not yet done with the two of you.” He looked at Tam. “Guard your lady well, bold knight.”

Tam stepped up beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders. He felt warm and solid - a strength she could lean into.

“I will,” Tam said. “And she’s watching out for me too, you know.”

Thomas nodded. “Then I bid you both farewell. And good luck.”

He began to fade as though he were made of mist. Jennet could see the pale bells of the meadow flowers through him, the transparent half-smile on his face.

“Goodbye, Thomas,” she whispered as he disappeared.

Then there was only empty air, and birds singing. And Tam beside her, holding her, strong and true.

He looked at her, his green eyes so serious. Slowly, he dipped his head, bringing their faces close. His hair brushed over her cheek and she tilted her mouth up to meet his. Their lips touched in a perfect kiss.

Jennet closed her eyes. Light spread through her, like she’d sipped the sunrise.

No matter what happened next, she and Tam would face it. Together.

THE BALLAD OF TAM LIN

I forbid you maidens all

That wear gold in your hair

To come or go by Carter Hall

For young Tam Lin is there.

Janet has kilted her kirtle green

A little about her knee,

And she has braided her yellow hair

A little above her bree,

And she's away to Carter Hall,

As fast as she can hie.

When she came to Carter Hall

Tam Lin was at the well,

And there she found his steed standing,

But away was himself.

The steed that my true-love rides on

Is lighter than the wind,

With silver he is shod before,

With burning gold behind.

She had not pulled a double rose,

A rose but only two,

Till up then started young Tam Lin,

Says, ‘Lady, pick no more.

And once it fell upon a day,

A cold day and a snell,

When we were from the hunting come,

That from my horse I fell;

The Queen o Fairies she caught me,

In yon green hill to dwell.’

'And pleasant is the fairy land,

But an eerie tale to tell,

Aye at the end of seven years

We pay a tiend to hell;

I am so fair and full o flesh,

I'm feared it be myself.

The night is Halloween, lady,

The morn is Hallowday,

And for to win me, win me well

Take heed to what I say.

Just at the mirk and midnight hour

The faerie folk will ride,

And they that would their true-love win,

At Miles Cross must bide.

Oh first let pass the black horse,

And then let pass the brown,

But quickly run to the milk-white steed

And pull the rider down.

'They'll turn me in your arms, lady,

An adder and a snake;

But hold me fast, let me not go,

To be your worldly mate.

'They'll turn me to a bear

And then a lion bold;

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

As ye shall love your child.

'Again they'll turn me in your arms

To a red hot bar of iron;

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

I'll do to you no harm.

At last they’ll turn me in your arms

Into a naked knight,

Then cloak me in your mantle green,

And cover me from sight.'

Gloomy, gloomy was the night,

And eerie was the way,

As fair Janet in her mantle green

To Miles Cross she did go.

About the middle of the night

She heard the bridles ring;

This lady was as glad at that

As any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by,

And then she let the brown;

But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,

And pulled the rider down.

So well she minded what he did say,

And young Tam Lin did win;

Then covered him with her mantle green,

As blithe's a bird in spring.

Out then spoke the Queen o Fairies,

Out of a bush of broom;

'She that has gotten young Tam Lin

Has got a stately groom.'

Out then spoke the Queen o Fairies,

Out of a bush of rye:

'She that has gotten young Tam Lin

Has the best knight in my company.

Had I but known, Tam Lin,' she says,

'Before I came from home,

I’d taken out that heart of flesh,

Put in a heart of stone.'

Collected by Francis James Child, English and Scottish Popular Ballads

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS for THE DARK REALM:

Thank you to the many people who made this book possible: the encouragement of my terrific CP Peggy, fabulous proof and beta-readers Colin, Sean (aka Captain Grammar Pants), Chassily, Marissa, Nicole, Kaitlynn, and Brynn. My patient and supportive in-house editor, Lawson, and keen-eyed reader Ginger. Thanks also to Annette Nishimoto for skillful copy-editing.

For great design work, Kim Killion, and for the inspiration to move forward, gratitude to Kris, Dean, and PG.

Finally, for all the adventures in-game, epic thanks to Sylven, Dom, and Fates Legion that was.

For other wonderful YA retellings of the ballad of Tam Lin, Anthea recommends Elizabeth Pope’s The Perilous Gard and Diana Wynne Jones’s Fire and Hemlock.

~ Each title in the FEYLAND trilogy is available in print, worldwide. Order online from your preferred book retailer ~

THANK YOU for reading the FEYLAND trilogy!

If you enjoyed it, please consider helping other readers find this book:

1. Share it ~ Lend it to a friend who you think might like it.

2. Spread the word ~Leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other site of your choice. Even a line or two makes a difference, and is greatly appreciated!

3. Stay connected ~ Sign up for Anthea’s quarterly newsletter, Sharp Tales, at http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp. Visit her website at antheasharp.com, and come friend her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/AntheaSharp

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Growing up, Anthea Sharp spent most of her summers raiding the library shelves and reading, especially fantasy. She now makes her home in the Pacific Northwest, where she writes, plays the fiddle, and spends time with her small-but-good family. Contact her at antheasharp@hotmail.com or visit her website – www.antheasharp.com

Anthea also writes historical romance under the pen name Anthea Lawson. Find out about her acclaimed Victorian romantic adventures at www.anthealawson.com

BACK TO TOP

FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT - Book 2 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

INSIDE THE GAME...

Jennet Carter escaped the dark faeries of Feyland once. Now, fey magic is seeping out of the prototype game, beguiling the unwary and threatening everyone she cares about.

MAGIC...

Tam Linn may be a hero in-game, but his real life is severely complicated. Still, he'll do whatever it takes to stop the creatures of Feyland, even if it means pushing Jennet toward the new guy in school--the one with an inside connection to sim-gaming... and the uncanny ability to charm everyone he meets.

ALWAYS WINS...

Despite the danger, Jennet and Tam must return to Feyland to face the magic of the Bright Court--and a powerful new enemy who won't stop until the human world is at the mercy of the Realm of Faerie.

DEDICATION:

For all the gamers in my family – but most especially, for Lawson.

FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT – PROLOGUE

The eerie call of a hunting horn floated over the drowsing city, sending sleepers’ dreams spiraling into nightmare - or jolting them awake, hearts pounding in sudden terror.

Tam Linn sat upright in the hushed dimness of his hospital room. His breath rasped in his throat, the echo of that fey and terrible noise shuddering through him. Forcing his breathing to slow, he listened intently. Nothing. He slid out of the bed and padded to the window, then slowly pushed aside the curtain.

The dark gray sky arched over the city, the lights of Crestview washing out any stars that might be hovering there. No spectral hounds or horned riders galloped across the night. No faerie magic breaking through into the mortal world.

Yet.

Tam watched a single car navigate the streets beyond the medical center. Soon the city would wake, and he’d finally go home. After three weeks in the hospital, the need to be out of there was severe - jangling his thoughts, burning his nerves. He clenched his hands into weak fists. He was still shaky, but he’d hidden it well enough that the docs had agreed to release him. There wasn’t any more time to lose.

Dangerous magic was about to be turned loose in the human world - and he was one of the only people who had a chance of stopping it.

CHAPTER ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam walked the crowded halls of Crestview High, feeling like an imposter in his own skin. Everything was different, but it was an invisible change - like his brain had been taken out and refolded into a new shape, then stuck back inside the same old packaging.

Being in a coma would do that.

Not to mention being held as a sacrifice by the faeries of the Dark Court, an experience so outside of normal that it still seemed like a fever-dream. But it had happened.

After that, going back to school was so ordinary it was surreal. Other students brushed past, bits of their conversation floating like mist in the air. Nothing felt solid - until he caught sight of a girl with pale blond hair moving toward him against the tide. Jennet Carter. The one person who knew everything he’d been through.

His world clicked into place.

“Tam,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “It’s great to see you back on your feet.”

She reached out like she was going to hug him, and he did a quick side-step. Not that he didn’t want her to touch him - a part of him did. But they were friends, against all odds, and that was enough. It had to be.

He tried not to notice her high-end clothing, the perfect sheen of her hair, the expensive tablet peeking out of her bag. Especially tried to ignore the wrist-chip implant that proved she was one of the elite. Jennet had everything going for her, while he…

He glanced down at his worn jeans with the frayed knee, his battered shoes with cracks in the sole. He had a falling-apart family, in a falling-apart house, in the most falling-apart neighborhood in Crestview.

They had nothing in common, except a love of sim gaming - and nearly dying in the Realm of Faerie.

He took a quick look around to make sure no one was listening. “We need to talk, soon. About Feyland.”

She nodded, her smile fading. The bell blared, the harsh, metallic sound startling through him. Welcome back to the real world.

“Let’s talk at lunch.” She stepped forward. “Come on - we don’t want to be late to World History. Ms. Lewis might frown at you.”

“Oh yeah, scary.” The teacher was notoriously soft.

He followed her down the hall, stumbling briefly as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

“Are you sure you’re ready to be back in school?” She slowed, her eyes concerned.

“The med techs said I was in decent shape,” he said, evading her question. “Besides, I’ve been gone too many weeks already. If I miss any more school, I’ll have to repeat the year.”

No way did he want to do extra time at Crestview High. Though maybe it didn’t matter - not with the dark creatures of Feyland trying to break through into the mortal world. Who knew if there would even be a next year?

“If you say so.” Her voice softened. “I was worried about you.”

He shot her a sideways glance. “You visited me practically every day in the hospital.”

And, weirdly, visited his dreams as well. Did she share those hyper-real visions? Tam felt his cheeks heating, and dipped his head, his hair falling over his eyes. So, he’d imagined kissing Jennet. In dreams. Not real, and he’d better not start thinking they were.

“Seeing you in the hospital…” Jennet’s voice was unsteady. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, you’re up and walking and, well, you’re you again.”

He wasn’t so sure, but there didn’t seem to be words to explain. And even if there were, Ms. Lewis’s classroom wasn’t the place to go all emo.

“Mr. Linn!” The teacher clasped her hands together and smiled at him as he took his seat. “How wonderful to see you.”

He mumbled a greeting, then pulled out his battered school tablet. Luckily, Ms. Lewis’s attention was diverted today. She kept glancing at a tall, unfamiliar boy seated in the front row. As soon as the second bell rang, she held up one hand.

“Class - attention, class! I’m pleased to announce we have a new student here at Crestview High. Mr. Royal Lassiter - oh, do stand up, Roy.” She beamed at the new boy. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

An introduction speech. Really? Tam shot a look at Jennet, who raised her eyebrows. Crestview never bothered with things like that. At least, they never had in the past.

The new student stood and turned to face the class. All the girls drew in their breaths, and Tam squinted, trying to see the appeal. Despite his expensively rumpled clothes, Roy Lassiter didn’t seem all that special. Reddish-brown hair, angular nose, chin a bit on the weak side. An easy grin lay on his face, but his dark eyes were calculating.

Something glinted at his wrist - a chip implant. He was one of the company kids who lived up at The View. One of the privileged ones, like Jennet.

“Hey, everybody,” Roy said. His voice had an odd, hollow timbre. “I know I’m happy to be here, and that I’ll make a lot of new friends. Crestview seems pretty sparked. So come up and say hi after class, alright?”

He sat down, and the class applauded. Applauded? Tam shook his head. That was the weakest speech he had ever heard - plus Roy hadn’t said anything real about himself. But for some reason everyone was smiling and nodding.

Everyone but Jennet. She had her head down and was scribbling something on her tablet. A second later, the corner of his screen lit up with a private message. He glanced at the front of the classroom, to make sure Ms. Lewis wasn’t watching, then clicked the message open.

Roy Lassiter = son of VirtuMax CEO.

Great. Unease shivered down his spine. The new student was hooked into VirtuMax, the company Jennet’s dad worked for. The company that was developing the immersive sim game of Feyland. The game that had nearly killed him.

“Sorry I’m late.” Jennet slid her lunch tray onto the table across from Tam. She glanced at the front of the cafeteria, where Roy Lassiter was holding court. “Our dear new student is in my Lit class, and it took forever to get out of there. You’d think the world revolved around him.”

Tam shook his head, his brown hair, as usual, falling over his eyes. Just once, she wished she could brush it back for him - but she could feel him prickle any time she got too close. She let out a soundless sigh. Maybe he just needed time to re-adapt to the real world.

“Well, look who’s finally in school again,” their friend Marny said, walking up with her lunch. “Welcome back, Tam. Not that Crestview High is anything to celebrate.”

He nodded. “It’s still better than a hospital bed. And the food here is marginally more edible.”

“Hey, Marny,” Jennet said, scooting over to make room.

Marny sat beside her, and Jennet noticed that she shifted until she had a clear view of Crestview’s newest student.

“At least there’s something interesting going on,” Marny said. “Roy Lassiter is in two of my classes. Isn’t that great?”

Tam laughed, then stopped when Marny didn’t join him. “Wait. You’re joking, right?”

“No.” She sounded distinctly unamused.

Jennet looked at her. “You’re glad that he’s in two of your classes?”

“I wish it were more.” Marny rested her chin in her hand. “Roy Lassiter is flawless.”

“What?” Surprise made Jennet’s voice higher than usual. She glanced at Tam, to see the same confusion on his face.

Marny wasn’t one to follow the crowd. She was unapologetic about who she was - big and smart and completely blunt in expressing her thoughts. The kind of person who would deliberately turn around to swim against the tide, rather than be carried along by the current.

“Roy Lassiter. Have you ever seen hair that color?” Marny’s voice was dreamy - shockingly different from her usual no-nonsense tone.

“You mean, brown?” Tam asked. He waved his hand in front of her eyes. “Wake up, Marny. He’s just average-looking. What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s ok to be jealous,” Marny said. “I’m sure all the guys are - how could you not be?”

Jennet traded a worried look with Tam. The bite of roll she’d taken was suddenly too dry, and she washed it down with a long swallow of water.

“So,” Tam said, turning to her, “the new student is a Viewer? Have you seen him up there at the company compound?”

“No, but I’ve been,” - mad with worry for you - “a little busy, you know.” She’d spent every hour she could with Tam in the hospital, whether he was conscious or not. “My dad said the CEO had finally moved in, and her son was my age. I didn’t think much about it.” Clearly, she should have.

“Ask your dad more,” Tam said, an edge in his voice.

“Oh, yes.” Marny turned her usually sharp brown eyes on Jennet. The lack of focus in her expression was unsettling. “I want to know everything about Mister Royal Lassiter.” She said his name like it was made of candy.

“You and the rest of the school,” Jennet said. “Maybe I could sell his personal info and make a fortune.”

“Maybe.” Tam folded his arms. “I won’t be buying.”

“You don’t look good in jealousy, Tam,” Marny said. Then her expression sharpened. “In fact, you don’t look good, period. Go home and get some rest.”

“What are you, my manager?” Despite the sharp words, there was warmth in his voice.

“She’s right,” Jennet said. From what she could see of his green eyes behind the scrim of his hair, he looked exhausted. He’d lost weight in the hospital, and with a lean build to begin with, he was on the edge of gaunt. “I can get George to drive you home after school, if you want.”

The chauffeur wouldn’t mind - he’d taken Tam into the Exe before, even at night, when it was most dangerous. But as she knew he would, Tam shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“I’ll walk partway with him,” Marny said, glancing at Jennet.

“Girls.” Tam rolled his eyes.

“Your job is to get completely better,” Jennet said. “I’ll find out… whatever.”

She looked again to the front of the cafeteria. It was weird, how quickly Roy had made friends - especially with that wrist-chip. In her experience, Viewers were treated with wary suspicion. She still got the cold shoulder most of the time.

So why was the whole school in love with Roy Lassiter?

CHAPTER TWO - THE BRIGHT COURT

After school, Tam again shrugged away Jennet’s offer of a ride home. He’d made Marny get on the bus instead of going blocks out of her way just to walk him to the outskirts of the Exe. No way he’d let her go with him into the decaying core of the city. Though Marny was quick and smart, it was a lot easier for one person to navigate the dangers of his neighborhood.

Jennet waved to him as her car pulled away. While he appreciated their concern, he didn’t need babysitters. When the grav-car turned the corner, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged off toward the Exe.

Weariness blurred his vision, but he forced himself to stay alert. One careless step and he could end up a pile of bones in a dark alley. He kept to the shadows of the graffiti-etched walls, breathing lightly of the rot-flavored air.

Strange noises echoed through the dank streets, and Tam held his breath, listening. His heartbeat thudded, then steadied again as he realized he wasn’t hearing the eerie sound of the Wild Hunt breaking between the worlds. Just mortal trouble. Just another day in the Exe.

Close to home, he skirted the abandoned building down the block, where the yellow-eyed smoke drifters squatted. They were harmless alone, but could be dangerous in a group.

Ahead was the old auto shop - once owned by some relative, now empty except for his broken sim equip. His house perched on top, with a faded blue tarp covering the roof and rust spots on the metal walls. Still, it was home. He didn’t take the rickety steps two-at-a-time - not this afternoon. The railing wobbled under his hand, but he made it to the landing, keys at the ready.

When he finally got the locks undone, he opened the door to find his mom and little brother sitting on the couch, reading a book. The sight made his heart clench. Way too many empty days stretched in his memory, too many times when Mom hadn’t been around at all. But she was here now, and doing fine. That was what counted. He shoved his worry for the future into a box and locked it down tight.

His mom looked up, a smile lighting her thin face. The Bug jumped to his feet.

“Hey, Tam! Mom was worried but I told her you were ok, so she read me a story instead. It’s about the alien guys on other planets.”

“Sounds great.” Tam mustered up a half-grin for his brother, though he was so tired all he wanted to do was sink onto the floor in a heap.

“Honey.” His mom closed the book. “You look exhausted. Get some rest.” She shook her head. “I knew it was too soon to send you to school.”

He didn’t have the energy to protest, just nodded and pulled off his shoes. Five minutes later he was in his sleeping bag. His bones felt like they’d been replaced by iron, heavy and dense. The Bug was still talking, but the words rolled off Tam, little bright marbles shining and spinning as he sank into sleep.

Jennet’s dad was late getting home - as usual. Sometimes she thought he’d stay at his office all the time, if it wasn’t for her.

Of course, things were intense for him at work. VirtuMax was preparing to roll out the most cutting-edge, immersive gaming system ever, but first they had to replace the lead designer of their showpiece game, Feyland.

Her stomach clenched. She’d tried so many times to convince Dad to pull the plug on Feyland, but no luck. Even though he knew it was dangerous - after all Thomas, the original designer, had died in his sim chair - Dad didn’t understand how, or why. The company thought it was a hardware glitch.

Only she and Tam knew the game was connected to the Realm of Faerie. Feyland was a gateway to a place where magic existed, and anyone who entered the game would come face-to-face with that wild, dangerous power. Jennet shivered.

She’d been one of the first to play Feyland, and the Dark Queen had taken her essence, draining her to the point she’d almost died. In trying to rescue her, Tam had nearly lost his own life.

They couldn’t let VirtuMax release the game. The thought of thousands of people flooding into Feyland, ripe pickings for the unscrupulous fey, made her bones turn to ice.

She and Tam had to do something. But what? How did two teenagers stop a huge corporation in its tracks? Two kids babbling about magic and faeries wouldn’t get far, she knew that much. There were no answers, only a sick emptiness inside whenever she thought about it.

Tam was out of the hospital now, though, and together they’d figure something out. They had to.

“Miss Carter, your father has arrived home,” HANA, the house network, announced. “You are expected to appear for dinner in five minutes.”

“All right. On my way.” She closed the book she hadn’t been reading and went to wash her hands.

When she got downstairs, she found Dad waiting for her in the dining room. He gave her a tired smile and the usual hug.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, biting her tongue to keep from commenting on how wrecked he looked.

“How was your day?” he asked.

It was what he always asked, and usually she replied with some vague, positive-sounding answer. This time, though, it was the perfect opening to find out more about Roy Lassiter. Roy, and his weird ability to make everyone like him.

“Good.” She sat down and pulled her napkin across her lap. “We got a new student today - Roy Lassiter. Weren’t you saying they just moved into The View?”

“Yes. Dr. Lassiter has the big house at the very back of the development.”

Jennet nodded. The homes in the company compound were all big, but the Lassiter’s was huge - more like a palace than a house.

“Is it just her and her son?”

“I believe so.” Dad nodded as Tony, the chef, brought out their first course. “She has a husband, but he stayed behind to finish up his own work. And there’s a daughter, off at college.”

That huge house, for only two people?

Jennet glanced around their spacious dining room and swallowed a dry laugh. Like she should talk. Compared to Tam’s tiny house - with three people living in two rooms - her house was on par with the Lassiter’s. Sometimes her life pricked her uncomfortably, especially since she’d gotten to know Tam.

Tony slid a bowl of soup in front of her, rich red with a spicy-sweet aroma. Her favorite - tomato-basil. She took a spoonful, trying to frame her next question.

“How involved is Dr. Lassiter with the Full-D development… and Feyland?” She hoped her voice sounded casual.

Dad gave her a sharp look. “It’s the company’s number-one project. She keeps a close eye on our progress. In fact, now that she’s here, things are moving forward quickly. She’s brought a new content developer on board to finish up the programming. Mr. Chon. He’s got an excellent background in game design.”

“Oh.” Jennet set down her spoon.

The original designer of Feyland had been her dad’s good friend, Thomas Rimer, who had been like an uncle to her. But he had died, with Feyland still incomplete. A shiver scraped the back of her neck. Had Thomas known what he had been creating, or had he only understood at the very end?

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one can ever replace Thomas - we both know that. Still, he laid enough of the groundwork that Mr. Chon expects to finish up the programming soon.”

“Soon?” Fear zinged through her. “But… I thought you were re-testing the hardware.” Not that they’d find anything, but she’d been counting on having more time.

“We’ve just finished running people through the sports-sims on the newest Full-D prototype.” He shook his head. “I tried to extend the trial, but Dr. Lassiter took a look at the tests and said the data was sufficient. There were no issues whatsoever, even with excessive usage.”

“Dad, playing virtual ping-pong isn’t even close to entering Feyland! Look at what happened to Thomas, to Tam.”

“I’m concerned, too - in fact, I brought this up with Dr. Lassiter as soon as she arrived, asking for more time to troubleshoot the system.”

“How could she say no? The problems are obvious!”

He let out a heavy breath. “She made it very clear that the project has been delayed too long already - and that if I kept pushing, I could find myself out of a job.”

“What?” Jennet set her water glass down, hard. Liquid sloshed over the side, darkening the white tablecloth. “But… you’re the heart of the program, Dad. You and Thomas - ”

“Thomas is gone.” He looked suddenly weary beyond words. “Dr. Lassiter doesn’t see any problems. She explained to me - very patronizingly - that Thomas was dying of cancer, regardless of whether or not he played a computer game. And Tam, well, we have no idea what kinds of toxins he’s been exposed to, growing up in the Exe. There’s no direct evidence that their problems were caused by Feyland.”

A hot beast of anger rose up inside her. “Then what about me? Your own daughter? Where did these scars come from?”

She thrust her hands out, palms up. Despite the wonders of plas-skin, she would always bear the memory of Feyland, burned dark red against her skin.

He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, but not before she saw the pain reflected there. When he spoke, his voice was low and defeated.

“VirtuMax has put too much into this project, Jen. They won’t stop now, not without compelling evidence that the game is harmful. Harmful to many players, not just one.”

“So what, I’m statistically insignificant?” Bitterness rose up in her throat. “Why can’t you do something?”

He was her dad. He was supposed to be all-powerful, supposed to protect her. Though that hadn’t stopped her mother from taking off, never to be seen again, when Jennet was a kid. She should know better than to feel this bewildered hurt. Heat pricking behind her eyes, she turned her hands back over, resting her marked palms on the white tablecloth.

“Short of corporate espionage, I’m doing what I can,” Dad said. “Putting the brakes on as much as possible - but this is what the company’s been working toward for years. I can’t stop it, any more than an ant could stop a bulldozer.”

Espionage. She swallowed. Was there any way she and Tam could somehow smuggle explosives into VirtuMax headquarters? The idea flickered through her, then died. The last thing they needed was to be arrested for terrorism. Even if they managed to do some damage, that would only delay things, not halt the project altogether.

“So. What’s next?” The words were dry in her mouth.

“As soon as Chon finishes up the programming, they’ll begin play testing. It’ll be closed beta, with handpicked players.”

“And after that?” She clenched her hands into nervous fists.

“They start shipping. The pre-orders for the Full-D have been incredible.” He shook his head.

“How long…” She cleared her throat. “How long before you think the game will be released?”

“Two months, barring any more technical glitches.”

Two months. Her lungs clenched and she had to force herself to breathe normally. She couldn’t believe that maiming and comas counted as ‘technical glitches.’

Tony came in and silently took their used dishes away, then returned with plates of Fettuccine Alfredo. Jennet poked at the pasta with her fork. It was usually one of her favorites, but tonight her stomach was full of leaden worry, not hunger.

Two months. The only thing she had to go on was a hunch about Roy Lassiter. A hunch that, somehow, had to turn into a plan.

“Um, Dad. Does anyone else besides us have a Full-D system? I mean, outside of the company headquarters.”

Dad rubbed his cheek. “Well. I suppose Mr. Chon was given one, now that he’s lead designer. And Dr. Lassiter, or course. She’s very particular about that, collects every VirtuMax system designed to-date. And I hear she likes to provide the members of her family with top-end gear - even before release.”

Heart sinking, Jennet counted. With the prototype systems, there must be at least three Full-D setups at the Lassiter’s.

She and Dad had two systems - but it had only taken one to suck her into Feyland. She shivered, cold with memory.

A fantastical clearing, silvered by moonlight, where fey creatures danced around a bonfire. The haunting beauty of the Dark Queen, diamonds like stars caught in her midnight hair. A sphere filled with orange flames, while Jennet’s own heart wrenched in two. A red-hot bar of iron clasped between her hands. Burning. Burning.

She shuddered. The CEO had multiple Full-D sim-systems at home. Multiple entries into Feyland.

What were the chances Roy Lassiter had been in-game? And what had he found there?

CHAPTER THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

School the next day was a repeat of the Roy Lassiter show - with one severe exception. Instead of joining them for lunch, Marny sat at the head table, with Roy. Granted, there were a lot of other kids there too, but something was wrong if even Marny had fallen under Roy Lassiter’s spell. Whatever kind of spell it was.

Jennet swallowed, shards of fear scraping her throat. There was only one place she knew of where magic was real - and Roy had access to it.

“I asked my Dad a bunch of questions last night,” she said to Tam as he set his lunch tray on the table.

“And?” He sat across from her and rested his chin on his fist, as though his head was too heavy to hold up.

“And… Roy’s mom has three models of the Full-D system at home.”

“Crap.” He straightened and glanced at the front of the cafeteria. “Is Lassiter a gamer?”

“I don’t know.”

“We need to find out.”

“I don’t think we can just go up and ask him about his gaming experience, do you? At least, not if we want a real answer.”

She followed Tam’s gaze to the table, which was packed with students listening to Roy talk. Whatever he was saying, it looked like everyone thought it was fascinating. Why were she and Tam unaffected by the new student’s charm?

“Anyway,” she continued, “we have more serious problems. Dad said VirtuMax is pushing for the Full-D system - with Feyland - to launch in two months.”

“What? They can’t do that!” Tam’s face tightened with worry. “Especially after the terrible stuff that’s happened.”

Exasperation sharpened her words. “Apparently the company can’t let little things like death and comas stand in the way of profit.”

“Your dad must have something to say about this.” Tam leaned forward, his voice urgent. “He’s seen the damage, up close. He has to stop VirtuMax from releasing the game.”

She clasped her hands together under the table. It had been nearly three weeks, but the skin of her palms was still tender. The doctors said she might not get her fingerprints back.

“Dad’s doing what he can,” she said. “He comes home from work every day, frustrated beyond words. But Dr. Lassiter is convinced the Full-D is safe to use. And the company techs inspected each wire and element of the prototype systems we used, Tam. They didn’t find a single thing wrong.”

“Because there’s nothing wrong with the hardware, Jennet!”

“I know that. But I can’t convince Dad the game itself is at fault, and there’s no proof. Of anything.”

“Damn.” Tam raked a hand through his hair.

She caught the haunted look in his eyes, and knew it mirrored hers. Feyland was dangerous, and they were powerless to stop it.

The bell blared, and she frowned down at her half-eaten lunch.

“Meet me after school,” Tam said. “I have an idea.”

Tam waited for Jennet outside, leaning against the eroded brick wall and trying not to act like it was holding him up. He was tired - but he couldn’t give in to his exhaustion. As soon as Jennet walked out of the building, he straightened. The narrowing of her eyes showed she wasn’t fooled.

“Maybe we should talk another time,” she said.

“Meaning?” He slanted her a glance from under his hair.

“Meaning you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m fine.”

She set one hand to her hip. “Tam, it’s me, remember? I know how you feel - I’ve been there myself. Quit being so drastically stoic.”

“Alright - I’m not feeling great.” He gave up on trying to seem lively. “But I’m ok for now. And I have a plan.”

“Sit down, then, and I’ll listen.”

He looked around, at the tail end of students leaving school, then picked up his backpack. “Not here. Let’s walk.”

Jennet pointed with her chin as a flash of red sped past. “There goes Roy Lassiter in his new grav-car.”

“Who’s that with him, in the passenger seat? Long black hair.”

Jennet squinted at the receding vehicle. “Keeli, I think.”

Another Viewer. Of course.

Lassiter had everything - fancy grav-car, privilege, all the status money could buy. And he lived in the compound, practically next door to Jennet. Jealousy curdled through Tam. There was no way he could compete with Lassiter - and he was planning to put Jennet right in the guy’s path. Yeah, a flawless idea.

He hunched his shoulders against the late-November wind, and headed down the street. Beside him, Jennet kept pace. Her pale hair blew around her face, until she pulled it back and tucked it into the hood of her coat.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked.

“We need to find out if Lassiter’s a gamer. The way that people are acting around him - it’s not normal. Why are we the only people who aren’t affected by his charm, or whatever-it-is? What if it’s connected with the game, and that’s why we’re immune?”

“I hate to say it - but the thought crossed my mind, too.” She drew her brows together. “Still, it doesn’t make sense. The Dark Queen tried to kill us, not make us the most popular kids in school.”

Tam jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, but we lost. What if Lassiter won? What if he got a real-world prize for beating the queen?”

“Could he be such a flawless player - so much better than us?” She shook her head. “I don’t buy it.”

“We’re going to find out. Grab that fancy tablet of yours and message him. Tell him to meet us at Zeg’s sim-café.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You’re taking me to Zeg’s?”

He knew she’d wanted to see the cafe, although it wasn’t the kind of place Viewers went. Ratty around the edges, with older gear - at first he’d been afraid she’d scorn it. Zeg’s was way too important to him. Now, though, he trusted her.

“I’d like to see what Lassiter’s got,” he said, “but in neutral territory. We can test him - see if he’s a top-notch player. If he has what it takes to beat the Dark Queen.”

“But… why would he even come?”

Tam stopped and just looked at her a moment - her intelligent blue eyes, her pale skin and high cheekbones, the silken beauty of her hair.

“You’re cute,” he said at last. “No way Lassiter hasn’t noticed you.”

Pink flushed into her cheeks. “Really? You think so?”

Her good looks were so obvious. He didn’t know how she could pass a mirror and not know. Of course, he liked her for way more than that. She was brave, and smart, and a prime gamer, all rolled into one flawless package.

“Completely.” He set one hand on her shoulder. “Lassiter would be an idiot not to see it. So, message him. Tell him one of the locals says he’s nothing but talk, and is challenging him to a sim duel. Give him the co-ords to Zeg’s. He’ll come.”

Tam swallowed, trying to ease his sense of dark foreboding. He hoped to hell this wasn’t going to backfire all over him.

CHAPTER FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet’s cheeks were still warm as Tam dropped his hand from her shoulder. He thought she was cute - had actually shed some of his skittishness and touched her! Hope kindled a bright flame in her chest.

“Anyway,” he said, “we’re almost at Zeg’s. You can message Lassiter from there.”

He turned and started walking, and she hurried to catch up. It meant a lot - not only that touch, but that he was letting her see Zeg’s. She knew how important the sim-café was to him.

From what she could piece together, Tam had learned to sim on Zeg’s equipment. Once he’d gotten good, Zeg had let him play for free, since people would come in just to watch him.

Tam was one of the best simmers she knew. Okay, the best. He’d won the regional tournament last year, and had a good chance at taking Nationals. If he’d gone. He didn’t talk about it, but she was certain his wreck of a mom had something to do with him missing the tournament.

“Here we are,” Tam said, holding open the door.

Zeg’s Game Parlor was written across the large window, and a gust of warm, coffee-scented air met her as she stepped over the threshold. The place was filled with the hum and ping of games - one side devoted to netscreens, the corner crammed with moto-sense setups. The wall by the door was covered with posters of celebrity simmer Spark Jaxley, her signature magenta hair blowing in a cyber-breeze.

A man looked up at them from behind the counter. He had long brown hair and a beard that melded together into a frizzy halo around his face.

“Hey, Tam! Good to see you,” he said. “Heard you were in rough shape for a bit.”

“Yeah.” Tam didn’t elaborate. “Zeg, this is Jennet. She’s a simmer, too.”

“Cool.” Zeg pursed his lips and nodded at her. “Sim-systems are in the back. Tam’ll show you. Don’t bet against him - you’ll lose.”

“I’m not planning on it,” she said.

“A girl with sense.” Zeg winked at her. “You kids want some coffee? Tea?”

“Um…” She glanced at Tam.

“Sure,” Tam said. “Your mint blend, ok?”

“I’m happy to pay, if you want to scan my chip…” Jennet lifted her wrist, her implant catching the blue light from a nearby netscreen.

Zeg looked at her arm. His eyebrows twitched into a frown, and he shook his head. “Nah, Tam’s cred is good.”

“Next time, then.” She didn’t want to coast indefinitely on Tam’s reputation.

“Come on,” Tam said. “You can message Lassiter from the back.”

He led the way to a second room that held a half-dozen sim-systems with color-coded chairs, helmets, and gloves. The equipment was scuffed and stained, eons behind the Full-D, but she didn’t say anything. Then again, if they played here they wouldn’t run the risk of getting their souls sucked out, or being chased and mangled by demon hounds.

She leaned back against the blue sim chair and pulled out her tablet. It didn’t take long to craft a message to Roy and send it - but she wasn’t nearly as confident as Tam that he would show.

“Shall we play something, while we wait?” she asked. “Blade-X?” The fast-paced racing sim would be a nice distraction - take her mind off the tangle of problems they faced.

“I don’t want to be in-game when Lassiter comes.” Tam set his hand on the back of the blue sim chair. “By the way, I don’t recommend ever playing the blue system. It has severely slow response on the gloves.”

“You wouldn’t give me a handicap to even things up? How generous.” She grinned at him, though they both knew he was the better gamer.

Not that she was wretched - far from it. Before she’d met Tam, she’d known maybe two other kids who could top her simming skills. But Tam was flawless.

He just shook his head, a half-smile on his lips. “Come on - I bet our tea’s ready.”

Back at the counter, Zeg slid a couple mugs of sweet-smelling liquid at them, followed by a plate that held four crumbly cookies.

She perched next to Tam on one of the stools, and took a sip of tea. It was warm and minty - a cozy contrast to the screens and consoles surrounding them.

“Have a cookie,” Tam pushed the plate toward her.

She took one. It tasted like butter and cinnamon.

“This is good. Does Zeg make them?”

“His wife does – she’s more the domestic side of the business, no matter how Zeg acts. He’s the tech guy, though he just likes to pretend to be a teddy bear.”

Jennet glanced toward the man, who had moved to one of the netscreens and was helping a boy get unstuck in some game.

“He does it well,” she said. “Any kids?”

“Nope. The sim-café is his baby.”

Tam looked like he was about to say more, but a cold blast of wind pulled their attention to the open door of the café.

Standing there like he owned the place was Roy Lassiter.

CHAPTER FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam scowled, a possessive jolt going through him - even though getting Lassiter here had been his idea. An idea that seemed worse by the second, especially when the other boy’s eyes skimmed over him and fixed on Jennet.

There was a cluster of girls behind Lassiter. Tam blinked when he saw that Marny was one of them.

“This is my uncle’s sim-café,” she said, sounding breathless. “Some of the best players in town hang here.”

“So I hear.” Lassiter set his hands on his hips. “Not that Crestview’s best is anything to brag about.”

He smiled, looking totally fake, and started toward the counter. Dislike curled through Tam, and he shifted closer to Jennet. For a second he wished he had his in-game sword strapped to his side. He’d gladly use it on Lassiter.

“Jennet Carter,” the other boy said, his voice dropping into a huskier register. “Nice of you to message me. I’ve been wanting to meet you, too.”

He stared at her a little too long. Tam took a gulp of tea, trying to wash the bitterness from his mouth.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said. “Do you sim?”

“Of course I sim. Although I’m used to far better than this.” He waved his hand, encompassing the warm shabbiness of Zeg’s.

Jennet nodded, clearly playing along. “I bet you have some pretty flawless gear at home.”

How could he not? Lassiter’s mother was the freakin’ CEO of the top gaming-tech company in the world. The question was - had he gone into Feyland? Had he actually beaten the Dark Queen in battle?

“Nothing can beat my sim equip. Or me.” He turned, fixing Tam with a look as cold as a snake’s. “Is this the local who thinks he can outplay me?”

Marny stepped up. “This is Tam Linn, Roy. He’s one of the best.”

“Yeah?” The other boy eyed him up and down. “Don’t look so special. Are you sure you can play with the pros?”

Tam slid his stool back and got to his feet. He was an inch taller than Lassiter, and glad of it.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can take you.”

Lassiter let out a snort. “You won’t know what hit you. At least it will be over fast, Exie.”

Jennet stood abruptly, shoulder-to-shoulder with Tam. “I’ve simmed with Tam, and I’ve no doubt he’s as good as you, if not better.”

Her defense took some of the sting out of Lassiter’s words. While it was true the taint of the Exe clung to Tam - in the clothing he could never quite get clean, in the shadow of poverty that haunted everyone in that part of town - he was the best player in the region.

But how good was Lassiter, the boy who grew up in VirtuMax’s pocket?

“Heh.” Lassiter narrowed his eyes and stared at Tam. “We’ll see about that. The equip here isn’t what I’m used to - but it’ll be enough to put you down. Ready for a sim-duel?”

“You’re on.”

They had Lassiter right where they wanted him. Too bad it didn’t feel very satisfying. Tam hoped he could wipe that arrogant smirk off Lassiter’s face, instead of being the one to eat dirt. The adrenaline of upcoming battle fired his blood, and he curled his fingers into his palms.

Marny looked at him, wide-eyed. “But, Tam. This is Roy Lassiter.” She said Lassiter’s name like he was president of the galaxy. “Do you really think you can beat him?”

They’d know soon enough. The key was to show no weakness. He nodded, projecting confidence.

“The sim-systems are in back,” he said to Lassiter. “Come on.”

The group moved forward, the girls whispering excitedly. Lassiter was probably strutting like a rooster, but Tam didn’t care to watch. He glanced at Jennet. She had her lips pressed together in that anxious way of hers.

Lassiter stopped beside the blue sim chair. “Leet gear,” he said, the contempt in his voice clear.

“If you’re not up for it…” Tam shrugged.

“Oh, I am.” Lassiter reached for the blue helmet.

Jennet shot Tam a wide-eyed glance. For a half-second, he was tempted to let the other boy choose the slow system. But that wouldn’t be a fair test, would it?

“I’ll use that one,” he said.

“Tam…” Jennet widened her eyes and shook her head at him.

“Uh huh,” Lassiter said, with a mocking smile. “I see what you’re up to. Trying to take the best gear for yourself, aren’t you? I think blue’s my color.”

“Stop it,” Jennet said. She pulled the helmet from Lassiter’s grasp. “I’ll use this system, to watch the fight. All the others are equal, ok?”

He looked at her. “If you say so, blondie.”

Tam could hardly wait to pound him.

Zeg ambled into the room. “Everything all right back here?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

“We’re good,” Tam said.

Though Zeg seemed mild-mannered, Tam had seen him throw trouble out on its ear. If things got nasty, the owner would step in.

“Hm.” Zeg glanced at Lassiter, then back to Tam. “I’ve just installed the new sim-version of Rumble. That might be what you boys are looking for.”

“Perfect,” Lassiter said, giving the owner a toothy smile. “I’m in the mood for some player-versus-player action.”

“If you want, I’ll put the feed up on the flatscreen, so everyone can watch,” Zeg said.

“Good.” Both Tam and Lassiter spoke at the same time.

Jennet wrapped her arms around the blue helmet. “I’m still going in as a spectator.”

“No problem,” Lassiter said. “I appreciate the support. It’ll be nice to have you with me, blondie.” He put his hand on her arm.

“Stop calling me that.” Jennet twitched away from his touch and slid into the sim chair. She looked up at Tam. “See you in there.”

“Listen, Exie.” The other boy faced him. “I know you might be a decent player, but you don’t want to beat me. Really, you don’t.”

There was an odd light in Lassiter’s eyes. Tam’s ears itched, like something was buzzing inside his skull. He blinked, then shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Right.” He meant the word to be sarcastic, but somehow it came out as agreement.

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Lassiter said. He winked at Tam, then settled in the red sim chair and pulled on the gloves.

Whatever. Tam let out a deep breath, then took the yellow system on Jennet’s other side. No matter what Lassiter said, there was no chance Tam was going easy on him.

In-game, Tam flicked through Rumble’s fighter avatars and chose his favorite: Sascha the marksman, who was equipped with jet boots and two gigantic swords for close fighting. Just for fun, and because he thought it would throw Lassiter off, he switched up the gender.

Now, instead of a tall, muscled man, Sascha appeared as a buxom woman in scanty armor. Not that it changed her fighting abilities one bit, but her appearance could be a distraction. Anything that might unbalance Lassiter was good with him.

The challenge summons rolled across his helmet screen, and he accepted. The game would place him and Lassiter in a random battle arena. Depending on which one, there would be various traps and pitfalls, as well as items the fighters could use to their advantage.

A red flash of the visuals signaled that the fight was about to begin. Tam took a deep breath and entered the game.

Sascha materialized on one side of a paved courtyard ringed with columns. The place looked vaguely Roman, and was one of the barest arenas Tam had ever seen. There was no time to check out his surroundings, though. Lassiter’s character appeared across from Sascha, and Tam almost laughed out loud. From dozens of possible fighters, his opponent had also chosen Sascha - though he’d stayed with the male version.

A flutter of black cloth caught his eye, and he glanced up to see the character Jennet had chosen. Nika, the ninja assassin. Her avatar was in spectator mode, suspended above the arena and able to see everything, but prevented from interacting with the environment in any way.

“You have good taste, Exie.” Lassiter’s voice sounded smug through the helmet’s speakers. “Although, it’s not going to save you.”

Tam didn’t waste time answering. He drew Sascha’s gun and sighted for his opponent. Just as he squeezed the trigger, Lassiter activated his boots and flew up into the air. At least the guy wasn’t a complete noob.

He saw Jennet move out of the way, taking her character to hover by the edge of the combat zone.

Now Tam was the target. Did those columns offer any protection? He sprinted for the side of the arena and tucked himself beside a column. Shrapnel exploded, stone chips flying past his shoulder, but Lassiter’s shot didn’t touch him. Tam crouched and fired off a quick volley, back along the trajectory of his opponent’s bullet. He heard Lassiter curse under his breath, but his character seemed unharmed.

There wasn’t enough cover in this arena for a sniper shootout. Time for a change of tactics. Tam flexed his fingers inside the gloves, and Sascha leaped into the air, drawing her double swords. Keeping her jet boots at max speed, Tam steered her through the air, straight toward Lassiter.

The other Sascha fired, and Tam somersaulted out of the way. Then he was on Lassiter, swords flashing.

“Hey,” the other boy said, voice strained.

Lassiter drew his blades, too, but he was surprisingly slow, as if Tam had taken him unaware. As if he’d expected less of a fight.

Still, he managed to deflect Tam’s first assault. The two Saschas danced around one another, feinting and lunging and parrying. There was something about Lassiter’s play-style …

Tam watched closely. Ah, right - the other boy moved his character in a linear way, playing as though he were standing on a floor, not floating in three dimensions. Time for the kill. Tam cut the power to his boots, dropping suddenly toward the pavement. He heard Jennet gasp.

Before Lassiter could react, or re-target him, he turned the boots back on and surged forward, angling to come up behind his opponent. A stab to the back, another quick slice across the neck, and the male Sascha gave a gurgling cry and slumped over, dead.

:GAME OVER: The words blinked red across Tam’s field of vision.

“Rematch?” he asked.

“Nah.” Lassiter sounded like he’d eaten something nasty. “Another time, maybe.”

The dead Sascha disappeared as Lassiter left game.

“Nice job,” Jennet said. “I don’t think he was expecting you to beat him.”

“Me either. I mean, he was a competent player, but he didn’t really push.”

“I got that feeling, too.” She sounded thoughtful. “Well, see you out there.”

Tam pulled off his helmet and gloves, then stood. Roy Lassiter was already at the door, the cluster of girls around him making sympathetic, cooing noises. Even Marny. When she noticed Tam was off the system, she narrowed her eyes at him, then pointedly turned away.

Nice.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Jennet said from behind him. “Marny’s not herself.”

“Well then, who is she?” He hadn’t realized how much he’d counted on the big girl’s friendship, until it was gone.

“We’ll find out.” There was steel in Jennet’s voice.

She headed over to where Lassiter was holding court, and Tam trailed behind. The other boy turned his attention to Jennet, again completely ignoring Tam. Jerk.

“So, blondie, want to come see me play on a real system?” Lassiter asked. “I only live a few blocks from you. Tomorrow afternoon’s good. What say?”

The other girls pouted, and Tam could tell Jennet was considering saying no. He poked her in the back.

“All right,” she said after a pause. “I could come over after school.” Her words were reluctant, but Lassiter didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, he didn’t care.

“Great.” He grinned at her. “I’ll be counting the hours.”

“Right,” Tam muttered.

“You know it, Exie. Why would she hang with you, when she could be with me? The choice is so obvious.” Lassiter turned to his admirers. “Come along, ladies. We have fun waiting for us - elsewhere.”

The door slammed closed behind the Viewer and his entourage, and Jennet let out a low breath.

“I don’t want to spend any more time with that walking ego,” she said. “Especially if he keeps calling me blondie.”

“You have to go.” Tam shoved his hair out of his face and gave her a serious look. “We didn’t find out nearly enough about Lassiter’s playing abilities. And if there’s a way to stop Feyland from being released, becoming friends with the CEO’s son could help us find it.”

“You’re right. How about you become his buddy, then.”

“Other than the fact he hates me for beating him? He’s a Viewer and I’m from the Exe.” Lassiter had made sure to pound that point every chance he got.

She folded her arms. “So? I’m your friend.”

Against all the odds, really. He tried not to think about the distance between their lives, but it was hard, with Lassiter in the way.

“Then you can go be Roy Lassiter’s friend, too. Admit it - it will be a lot easier for you. You belong in his world.”

She made a face. “Fine. I’m not thrilled with the idea.”

Neither was he. Pushing Jennet at Lassiter was the last thing he wanted to do - but he had no choice.

CHAPTER SIX- THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet rode her g-board slowly up the flagstone drive that led to the Lassiter’s front door. The place was the biggest mansion in The View, no question. Impeccable landscaping framed a building that could easily, in a different setting, be a 5-star hotel - all gleaming glass and sharp angles.

Her dad might be the lead project manager for Feyland, but Dr. Lassiter was VirtuMax’s CEO - and clearly wanted everyone to know it.

The entryway was designed to make people feel small. At least, that’s how Jennet felt, standing in front of the huge double-doors. There was no need to knock. Security cameras had swiveled onto her the moment she’d entered the wrought-iron gates out front. The system had probably scanned her wrist-chip within seconds.

“Miss Carter,” a metallic voice said from a hidden speaker by the door. “You are expected. Please enter.”

Definitely a House-Activated-Network-Assistant, though her own HANA had a better voice program than the Lassiter’s interface. But maybe they liked it that way - cold and impersonal.

The doors swung open to reveal Roy Lassiter, aiming his even-toothed grin at her.

“Welcome to the palace,” he said. “Come on in.”

He reached for her arm, but Jennet strode past him into the foyer. Inside, it was cool and hushed and dim. How many empty rooms did this place have? The tomblike silence was broken only by the distant hum of a robo-vac.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said, propping her board in the corner.

“Anytime, blondie.” He glanced at her g-board. “Nice ride - though not quite as prime as my Quell. I’ll take you out and show you some real tricks sometime. You’d like that.”

“Um, yeah.”

She didn’t like him, or the assumptions he made. Still, she had to at least act friendly.

“Maybe next time.” He winked at her. “Today you get to see an expert simmer at work.”

If his head got any bigger, he’d fall over from the weight. Jennet folded her arms.

“I sim, too, you know,” she said.

He laughed. “G-board, simming… I didn’t figure you for such a techie girl. Not with your looks.”

That statement was so full of wrong, she barely knew where to begin. “Just because I have blond hair doesn’t mean I’m stupid - about tech or about gaming.”

“Hey.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “It was a compliment, get it? But whatever. The theater is this way.”

Without looking to see if she was following, Roy headed down the tall corridor to his left. Sconces along the walls shed a faint illumination, and she felt like she was walking into a deep canyon.

“The theater?” she asked. Her voice echoed hollowly off the glass and polished stone. They had a media room at her house, but it couldn’t be called a theater by any stretch.

“My mother’s a fan of gear,” Roy said. “After all, it’s made us rich. She designed a space for all the media interfaces and systems we have. Which is a lot.”

Sounded like her dad was right about Dr. Lassiter collecting every system VirtuMax ever made.

At the end of the hall was another massive set of double-doors. They swung silently open as Jennet and Roy approached. It was creepy. Sure, the house-network could be programmed to open doors whenever people got close, but Jennet and her dad both preferred to be in charge of whether or not a door was going to swing wide.

Roy paused on the threshold and gave her an ironic half-bow. “Behold. Lassiter central.”

She felt her eyes widen as she stepped inside. It really was a theater, with forty-foot ceilings and rows of seats in the middle, facing a floor-to-ceiling screen that dominated the space.

The seating area was only a portion of the huge room, though. Along the sides, dozens of gaming systems were lined up: netscreens, and moto-sense setups, and sim-systems. She was used to cutting-edge tech, but this - this was drastically over the top. Roy had his own private arcade, with equip she hadn’t seen in years, or ever.

“This is….” She turned in a circle, trying not to let Roy see her amazement.

“Pretty prime. I know.” He sounded smug. “But the best part is over here.”

He led the way to an area partitioned behind frosted glass panels. With a wave of his wrist, the glass slid aside to reveal VirtuMax’s crowning achievement.

The Full-D sim-system.

Actually, three models of the Full-D, perfectly lined up. Spot lighting from above illuminated them, making the helmets gleam and the synth-leather of the chairs glow. The LEDs on the gloves shone like gemstones.

“It looks like a museum,” Jennet said. Or a shrine to a digital god.

“All these systems are playable - though I do like the most recent equip the best.” Roy patted the back of the middle system’s chair, the way someone would touch a favorite pet.

Her breath tightened and fear shivered across her nerves. So, he had been simming on the Full-D. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.

There was a part of her - spirit, soul, whatever - that had been held captive in Feyland by the Dark Queen. That part had prickled with wariness the moment he’d stood up in Ms. Lewis’s class. Roy Lassiter had been touched by the Realm of Faerie. Did he even know it?

Too many questions, not enough answers.

She cleared her throat. “You play a lot?”

“Of course. It’s a gamer’s paradise here.” He leaned toward her. “I knew you’d like it. But then, you’ve used a Full-D system before, haven’t you?”

“I…” She swallowed. Maybe Roy was more clever than he seemed. “Yeah, my dad brought one home.” Two, actually, but why reveal more than she had to? “I’ve messed around on it. A little.”

He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Well, Jennet Carter, it’s your lucky day. I’m going to show you something so astounding, you won’t believe it.”

“Are you talking about Fey… about the new game the company’s working on?”

“Feyland, yeah.” He shot her a speculative look. “Your dad’s the project manager. I’d expect you to know all about it.”

“Not really.” She forced a laugh and took a step away from him. “Dad spends a lot of time at work, and when he’s home he doesn’t talk much.”

Although recently they’d had some real conversations. She was still trying to explain what had happened to her and Tam in-game, and sometimes it seemed like she was getting through. She had to admit, though, the whole thing was pretty hard to believe.

Roy nodded, the doubt clearing from his expression. “Ok then, have a seat. I’m taking you in-game with me.”

Fear clenched her ribs. “I, um… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Way too much trouble could happen in Feyland. Had happened in Feyland. Some of the creatures there were her mortal enemies, and she didn’t dare encounter them - especially not without Tam at her side. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep the panic at bay.

“Oh, right.” He rolled his eyes. “Your dad’s convinced there’s dangerous hardware issues. Listen. I’ve been simming on this equip for a long time, on all three prototype systems. Nothing bad has happened to me, not once. That’s weeks - ok, months - of playtime, and no evil effects. Nothing to be scared of.”

It sure didn’t sound like Roy had gone all the way to the Dark Court. Either that, or he was an excellent liar.

She shook her head. “I still don’t think - ”

“Look, Jennet. As long as you’re not a total noob, you’ll do fine. You know how to sim - you said so yourself. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The problem was that the Dark Queen had tried to kill her. Twice. The fey-folk knew her name, knew her. They would recognize her no matter what kind of character she played in-game. Going into Feyland was beyond dangerous.

She made herself breathe past the tightness in her lungs.

“Tell me about the game,” she said. “You know, monsters we might encounter, stuff like that.”

Wicked water-hags and redcap goblins. The dread Wild Hunt. The sharp-edged, terrible beauty of the Dark Queen in her Court.

“No worries,” he said. “In the early levels of the game, there’s nothing fierce. And you’ll have me to protect you.”

“So… we won’t reach the final boss or anything?” She didn’t care if Roy heard the tremble in her voice and thought she was a timid player.

He frowned. “The final boss? Nah. It takes days of playing to get that far in-game. He’s way deeper in than we’re going to go.”

He?

Her heart gave a thud, and shock rippled through her like lightning. She blinked at Roy. Had she heard him right? He? Had Roy actually encountered a different enemy at the end of Feyland, not the Dark Queen?

“If we do end up meeting the boss,” she said, lacing her fingers tightly together, “I should know more. Tell me about the fight, the strategy.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “There’s no way we can play that far in one session. Unless you want to stay here all night.” He gave her a look that was probably meant to be smoldering.

“I’ve got homework tonight. Sorry.” No way was she spending any more time with him than necessary. “But this boss - ”

“Don’t stress it,” he said. “Feyland is easy, especially at the beginning. Though if you really don’t feel like playing, we could go up to my room, instead.” He winked at her.

Ignoring his suggestion, she bit her lip and tried to think past the fear swirling through her. What if Roy hadn’t come to any harm, hadn’t met the Dark Queen… because his Feyland wasn’t the same game? Was that even possible?

What if - her pulse sped at the thought - what if Feyland was actually safe to play? Maybe her version was the tweaked one, the buggy one. What if all her and Tam’s fears were groundless? The idea trembled through her, promising a relief so great she could barely breathe.

The only way to find out was by going in-game with Roy, right here, right now. She didn’t have to go very far. Just beyond the faerie ring, just enough to see if the world was different. If things got severe, she could always run back out.

She had to know.

“All right,” she said. Her stomach in knots, she walked over to the Full-D systems. “I’ll play Feyland with you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN- THE BRIGHT COURT

“There you go.” Roy’s grin was firmly back in place. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. All you have to do is follow me around. Here - take the newest system. The interface is easier to use.”

Didn’t she know it.

Throat dry as sand, she slid into the chair. When Roy stepped forward, like he was going to help her with the helmet, she hurriedly pulled it on, then donned the gloves. Her hands throbbed with the memory of searing fire.

“Ready,” she said.

Though she wasn’t, not at all. She wished, with a yearning that made her bones ache, that Tam was with her. But there was no scenario she could imagine where Roy invited “the Exie” over for a gaming session. It was up to her.

Through the dark glass of the visor-screen, she saw Roy settle into the system to her right - the second prototype. He geared up, then looked over at her.

“At the main screen, choose the F icon from the menu.” His voice came, crystal-clear, through her helmet’s speakers. “And prepare to be amazed.”

The F icon glowed, softly golden, like it was made of flame. It took only the slightest flex of her finger to select it. The menu faded out, replaced with the blinking words she’d seen a hundred times:

Feyland: A VirtuMax Production

Alpha 1.5.0486

The visor-screen went dark. Faint, mysterious music began playing. Light slowly etched across her vision, a delicate tracery like webs or tree branches.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND

The words unfurled across the screen. The letters glowed a rich gold that deepened to crimson. Flames flickered along the sides, then the words faded to grey, as though they had burned down to ash. The music twisted, and the dim letters suddenly whirled up into a flurry of dark-edged leaves. Behind them… she squinted. Was that a pair of eyes, gleaming from the shadows? She’d never seen that before.

Then the screen cleared, showing the familiar character-creator interface.

“Now make your avatar,” Roy said. “Spellweaver would be a good choice for you.”

Well, yeah. It was what she played all the time in-game, but she wanted to do what she could to disguise herself. Maybe, by using Roy’s system, she’d get a layer of protection from the creatures of Feyland, if his game in fact led to the Dark Realm.

And if it didn’t? She still didn’t want Roy to know how familiar she was with Feyland - at least not until she knew more. Choosing an untried class would help with that.

“What type of character are you?” she asked.

No way did she want to inadvertently pick the same kind as Roy. For one thing, having him tell her exactly how to play would be insufferable.

“Mercenary. Best warrior in the game. Whatever class you choose, I’ll protect you.”

He wasn’t a Knight, then. She should have guessed. Knight was what Tam played - and it fit him well, no matter what he thought of himself.

The same way Mercenary fit Roy. Someone interested only in their own gain. She’d never met a more self-centered person than Roy Lassiter.

All right - time for a decision. She scanned the character classes, paying more attention to the hybrids listed at the bottom. KITSUNE. That looked promising. And potentially a way to hide her identity in-game. Lifting her index finger, she highlighted the choice.

KITSUNE: Attuned to the wild magic of the elements, the Kitsune can wield fire, cast illusions, and shape-shift into the form of a fox. Clever and cunning, Kitsune prefer to win their battles without the use of brute force.

“Are you done?” Roy asked. “Is the interface confusing you?”

“No, no. Give me a minute.”

Quickly, she created her avatar. A petite blond-haired girl with a pointed chin and high cheekbones appeared on the screen. She was wearing a green leather vest trimmed with leafy patterns, dark leggings, and tall boots. Not bad - but what were the character’s weapons? Jennet rotated her avatar. A thin dagger was strapped to her belt, and she carried a slender curved bow and quiver of arrows on her back.

Not a class made for close fighting. She’d have to experiment with the fire and illusion bit, but that was good - keep her looking like a novice.

Choose character name, the game prompted.

What should she pick? Not her own name, for sure. That would be the first test. If the creatures in Feyland called her Fair Jennet, she’d know that Roy’s version was more than just a game.

She needed something fox-like. Vixa - yes, that was good. Jennet double-clicked her thumb and index finger, the universal glove command to bring up the keyboard, then typed the name into the interface.

VIXA - character complete. Enter game?

Ready or not, here she went. She took a steadying breath, then tipped her thumb up. Yes.

A fanfare of trumpets blared as the visor-screen went golden. Even though she was prepared for it, her stomach gave a queasy lurch. The first few times she’d simmed on the Full-D system, she hadn’t realized the weird sensation had anything to do with the game. Later, she’d thought it was an interface glitch. But now she knew better. Going in-game was no simple thing. And in this case, it wasn’t a hopeful sign.

The golden light dissolved, and she found herself at the regular starting point - a clearing surrounded by white-barked birch trees. The sky was bright blue overhead, the grass a vivid green. Wind moved across the leaves of the trees, shimmering silver as they rustled in its wake, and she could feel the warm breeze against her face.

Her avatar stood within a faerie ring of mushrooms, as usual. Hold on a sec…

She looked again at the ring. Instead of the expected moon-pale mushrooms, this was a circle of white-spotted red ones. The poisonous kind.

But that was a good thing. It meant that Roy’s version of Feyland wasn’t exactly the same as hers. Still, how different was it?

She shivered. Gripping her bow, she turned in a slow circle. The weapon felt unfamiliar and awkward. Maybe selecting an untried class wasn’t such a great idea, after all.

“I’m in,” she told Roy.

“Sweet. Be right there - I was checking out some character specs.”

A moment later the air beside her shimmered, and his avatar appeared. Surprise wrapped around her lungs and it took her a second to catch her breath. The character was Roy, but he looked - well, he looked amazing. Not just an enhanced version of himself, the way she and Tam did in her game.

No, this Royal Lassiter resembled a prince of old. His hair was coppery and perfectly tousled, like a vid-star’s. His eyes were deep indigo, his features flawlessly hewn. Was this how the other students at school saw him? If so, she could totally understand the appeal.

He wore gladiator-style armor - a chest plate and vambraces that revealed his muscular upper arms. A golden armband with an intricate Celtic design encircled his left bicep, and he had an ornate torc around his neck.

“Like what you see?” He flexed, then drew his two-handed sword and went through a fighting sequence, attacking and parrying an imaginary opponent. Much as she hated to admit it, he looked good, all smooth moves and rippling muscles. Like he would be able to protect her, if things got dangerous.

“Impressive,” she said.

“Let’s check you out.” He sheathed his weapon, then looked her up and down. “Didn’t roll a caster, huh? Well, this isn’t bad. I’m interested in seeing how the Kitsune work. And you make a cute fox-girl, with those pointy ears.”

Her ears were pointy? Jennet felt one. Sure enough, they were sticking up through her hair. The character graphic hadn’t shown that feature, but she was a fool to trust any part of this game. Things could change from minute to minute - and did, with unsettling frequency.

“Follow me, and don’t step on the mushrooms,” he said. “First quest is down the trail.”

He jumped over the faerie ring and strode to the edge of the clearing. Even though the mushrooms were changed, a mossy path led between the trees - just like in her Feyland. Ferns grew along the edge, and the sunlight sifted long beams of light into the forest. So far, it was impossible to tell if this were truly a different game.

She took a deep breath and leaped over the mushrooms. The avatar felt lighter, more agile than her Spellweaver.

Roy turned to watch her. “Good job with the interface,” he said. “At first I was annoyingly clumsy in here, but you have a feel for it.”

Drat. She’d have to remember to stumble sometimes. “Maybe it’s this character - it seems pretty easy to move around.”

“Well, stay close.” He shifted, and for the first time, a hint of unease crossed his handsome features. “Feyland can be a little… unpredictable.”

She widened her eyes and tried to look innocent. “I thought you said it was amazing.”

“Oh, it is. Come on, I’ll show you things you’re not going to believe.”

Except she could believe them. She’d seen more than her fair share of freakiness in-game. She skirted the edge of the circle, following Roy as he started down the path.

The quiet of the forest was punctuated by the liquid trills of some hidden bird. The pale trunks began thinning out, showing glimpses of rolling green hills beyond. When she and Roy stepped out of the trees, there was a cottage right in front of them, complete with thatched roof and diamond-paned windows.

It looked a lot like the cottage she and Tam had encountered when they’d played together. And yet, there were differences. The brownie called Fynnod wasn’t sitting out front, for one thing. Instead a small, goblin-like creature squatted on the doorstep. It had skin like old leather, long ears, and a nose that curved sharply downward, almost meeting an equally pointed chin. It watched them approach with dark, unblinking eyes.

She had never seen this particular denizen of Feyland before, but that was no guarantee it didn’t know who she was. Jennet edged behind Roy, trying to keep him between her and the creature.

“First quest-giver,” Roy said over his shoulder to her. “Don’t be scared - these starting quests are dead easy.”

She flinched at his choice of words. “As long as we’re not dead.”

“Not to worry.” Roy patted his sword. “Like I said, I’ll protect you. Besides, I know this game inside and out.”

He strode to the front steps, and she trailed behind him, keeping her head ducked low. Fear drilled through her, fast and insistent. If this creature recognized her, what was she going to do?

“Greetings, Hob,” Roy said.

Jennet glanced up, to see the goblin rise and make a flourishing bow. So far, it hadn’t seemed to notice her.

“Greetings, Royal one. You return to the realm.” The goblin spoke in a high, creaky voice, then looked over at Jennet. “And you have brought a new companion.”

There was no sign of recognition on Hob’s ugly face, no sign that he was going to point his clawed finger at her and denounce her as an imposter. Her heartbeat notched down from panic mode.

“Indeed,” Roy said. “Lady Jennet will accompany me on my adventures. Grant her the courtesy that is her due.”

Annoyance stabbed through her. Great. He’d blown her cover first thing. So much for her first test of the game - seeing if her character name stuck.

“Roy,” she whispered, leaning close, “my avatar is called Vixa.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot to check - but it’s all good. You can be a lady, it suits you. Anyway, it’s too late to change - from now on the interface will recognize you as Lady Jennet.”

The goblin turned and bowed to her. “Well met, Lady Jennet.”

The creature gave no sign that her real name carried any importance. And it hadn’t greeted her as Fair Jennet, the name she was called in her version of Feyland. Maybe this was going to work, after all.

“We seek a quest,” Roy said, sounding like a bad English actor. The first encounters in Feyland were highly scripted, and he clearly had the role-playing aspect down.

“A quest?” the goblin said.

“Aye. Lay upon us some service, that we may prove our worth.” Roy glanced at her, and added in a quieter voice, “This is how the game goes. Do a quest, have an adventure, and it opens up to the next level.”

She swallowed and tried to keep her tone light and curious. “Until you get to the end, right?”

For a second, the icy laughter of the Dark Queen echoed around her. Jennet shivered and forced her attention back to Roy.

“Yeah,” he said. “You go through all these areas, and battle fantastical things, and at the end you make it to the Court.”

“The Court?” She squeaked the words, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What’s that like?”

Her hope that Roy’s game was different started to dissolve. Maybe the gender of the final boss changed, depending on the player - which would mean Roy had met the Dark King, instead of the Dark Queen. Either way, the Dark Court was trouble.

“I have a quest for two such bold adventurers,” Hob broke in. “Heed what I now say.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Roy whispered.

The goblin snapped his fingers, once, twice, and two lengths of silken cloth appeared on the steps beside him. One was white as snow, the other a deep crimson.

“Take these,” Hob said, gesturing to the cloth, “and wash them in yon stream ‘til the red becomes white, and the white turns to red. Then I shall deem you worthy of my reward.”

Another tricky faerie quest. Where did they come up with this stuff?

“We shall return shortly.” Roy picked up the lengths of silk, then held them out to her. “You better carry them, so I can get to my sword when we’re attacked.”

Her stomach clenched. The last time she’d done a quest involving water, she’d been pulled under by a water-hag and nearly drowned. Tam had been there, though, and had saved her. Longing ached through her. How she wished Tam were here beside her.

“We’ll be attacked?” she asked.

“Of course,” Roy said. “Nothing I can’t handle. We’re in the starting zone, remember?”

Yeah, well. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, not in Feyland. She took the cloths and wound them together into a compact bundle. Roy wasn’t the only one who could fight, if needed. She didn’t know how the Kitsune magic worked, but she would figure it out. Plus, she had her bow and dagger.

They headed away from the cottage. Jennet glanced over her shoulder, to find that Hob was still sitting on the front step, knobby knees crossed. Watching them. She was glad when the path curved between two hillocks, taking them out of sight of the cottage.

“So, Roy, about the Court - ”

“Sec.” He lifted his hand. “This is usually where the ambush happens. Go slow.”

He drew his sword and, gripping the hilt in two hands, held the naked blade before him.

“Um…” She glanced around, but saw only flower-spangled grasses and the curve of blue sky overhead.

“Don’t be nervous, blondie.” Roy flashed her a perfect smile. “I’m really good.”

She had her mouth open to reply, when the ground before them erupted. Dirt sprayed everywhere, and three hideous creatures clambered out of the hole. They were squat and ferocious-looking, wearing rough leather armor and carrying long pikes. The one in front grinned, sharp-toothed and evil-eyed, and lifted his weapon.

CHAPTER EIGHT- THE BRIGHT COURT

“Bogles!” Roy said. “Stay back. I got this.”

Jennet retreated a few paces, but no way was she just going to stand there like a noob and watch while Roy fought. She dropped the bundle of cloth, pulled her bow off her back, and nocked an arrow to the string.

With a guttural cry, the bogles surged forward, concentrating their attack on Roy. He blocked their strikes with his blade, the clang of metal-on-metal ringing through the air. The bad odds didn’t seem to bother him as he ducked, parried, and stabbed.

One of the bogles hung back, poking at Roy from the edges of the fight. Ok then - that one was her target. She pulled back on the bowstring and sighted down the arrow. Aim for the middle of the creature - surely she could at least hit it? She let the arrow fly. It struck the bogle in the shoulder, and it gave a yelp.

Not exactly what she’d intended, but better than nothing. Quickly, she snatched another arrow from her quiver, aimed a bit lower, and this time hit the bogle in the leg. It snarled and headed toward her.

In her peripheral vision, she saw one of Roy’s opponents go down. Her third arrow was nocked and ready, centered on the bogle’s chest, when the ground shook. A cloud of dust billowed out from where Roy was standing.

“Roy!” She couldn’t see a thing. Coughing, she started forward.

“Relax.” His voice came from just ahead. “Wait a second. It’ll clear.”

Sure enough, the dust dissipated fast. In a moment, it was gone - and so were their enemies. Jennet glanced around, but there was no sign of the creatures. Even the path was undisturbed, as if the earth had never belched out bogles to attack them. Slowly, she lowered her bow, then tucked the arrow back into her quiver.

“That’s it?” she asked. “Where’d they go?”

“I told you, it’s easy fights. You don’t have to kill things at this level, only injure them. Do enough damage, and they just disappear.” He eyed her bow. “Not bad with the shooting - but you didn’t need to fight.”

“Hey. It’s how I play.”

She wasn’t a fan of playing the helpless maiden, even if Roy kept trying to shove her into that role. She’d been getting the hang of the bow, too. Next fight, she’d be able to hit things much better.

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “Grab the cloth - the stream’s up ahead.” He started forward again, not waiting for her.

She slung her bow across her back, picked up the silk, and followed. It stung a little, that Roy was annoyed with her for fighting. His self-importance was so big, it squeezed out everyone else around him.

The path dipped down into a small vale. Saplings grew here, and she could hear the bright chuckle of running water. Lengthening her stride, she hurried to catch up with Roy. He stood by the waterside, illuminated by a beam of sunshine that made the copper in his hair glow. Probably he’d picked that place to stand on purpose.

“Alright,” he said. “Give me the stuff.”

Jennet handed over the bundle of silk. Thankfully, the stream was small, maybe two feet across at its widest. The bright water was clear enough that she could see the sandy bottom - no deeps and shadows where wicked water-hags could lurk. On the bank grew delicate ferns and long-stemmed purple flowers shaped like hoods. It seemed peaceful. She took a deep breath.

“So,” she said, “what do we do?”

She half-expected him to suggest they just switch the cloths and tell Hob they’d washed them. But the little goblin would know.

“I’ll wash the red one, you do the white.” Roy handed her the pale silk. “It’s simple. Dip it in the water and imagine it changing color.”

Roy knelt and submerged his cloth. She was a little surprised he hadn’t remained standing there like some fancy statue and delegated the menial parts to her. Then again, they were both supposed to complete the quest. It probably wouldn’t succeed if only one of them did it.

His silk turned a deeper hue of crimson beneath the water - but as he pulled it out, the color seeped away. She expected to see swirls of red in the stream, but the water ran as clear as ever. When Roy finished pulling the silk out, it was pure white.

“See?” He winked at her. “Your turn.”

The stream was so cold it made her gasp. Right - she’d forgotten how much sensation was programmed into Feyland. It felt real - it was real, in a crazy way.

“You can feel the water, right?” Roy smiled at her. “I told you this game was flawless. Ok, now think red.”

Jennet swirled the white silk under the water and pictured it turning deep crimson. Red as rubies. Red as fresh-spilled blood. Slowly, she pulled the cloth up.

Droplets ran like crystals back into the stream. As she watched, the white turned a pale pink. Then rose-colored. She held her breath. Red. The silk deepened to scarlet. Kept going.

“Whoa!” Roy grabbed the cloth out of her hands. “Not black, Jennet.”

He held it up by the corners. The silk was red, mostly. But the middle was marred by a swirl of darkness - burgundy, shading to midnight at the very center. She shivered.

“Is the quest ruined?” she asked.

There was a shadow of uncertainty in Roy’s expression. He stared at the silk a moment more, then gave himself a shake.

“We’re good. Don’t worry.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

She stood. “Let’s go back.”

Roy nodded, his face tense, then turned and tromped up the path. This time, he didn’t hand the cloth off to her. Was he worried she’d wreck the quest even more if she touched it? Maybe he was right.

“Hey,” she said, hurrying after him, “why don’t you tell me more about the game?” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt, either. “This place is amazing, just like you said. You were really good in the fight, too.”

He slowed down and gave her a warm smile. Too bad he wasn’t this handsome in the real world - though he sure acted like he was.

“I’ve spent a lot of time playing Feyland,” he said. “But if you think this is sparked, wait til the next time we play, when we get deeper in-game.”

She wasn’t so sure she wanted there to be a next time, or if she wanted to keep playing with Roy. Then again, none of her questions had been answered. Was this really a different version of Feyland?

Just when she thought it might be, weird things happened, like the silk turning dark in the middle.

“You were going to tell me about the Court - ow!” A sharp tug on her hair made her whirl around, hand going to her dagger.

Nothing was there. Except… she squinted. There were brighter places in the air, shimmery bits that hovered and fluttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one move close to her arm. Ouch!

She swatted at the air, and was rewarded with a high-pitched giggle.

“It pinched me! Roy, what’s going on?”

“It’s just the pixies. They’re harmless.” He looked amused now, instead of worried.

“They don’t seem harmless.” She ducked as one of the shimmers flew at her face, then winced as her hair was yanked again. “Why aren’t they bothering you?”

She had seen pixies in Feyland before, glowing winged creatures that were as innocuous as fireflies. They had always seemed more like stage props than actual fey-folk.

“I guess they like you better,” Roy said.

“I don’t think like is the right word here.” She batted another glow away. “Ok guys, you’ve had your fun. Now stop.”

Her answer was a spate of giggling, and a pinch on her thigh. This was getting seriously annoying. She had to drive them off, but her bow and dagger weren’t much help against glowy bits of light. Roy wasn’t much help, either, standing there with his arms crossed and laughing.

Obviously she was on her own. What could she use against the pixies?

Her Kitsune magic. She thought back to the character creation interface. Shapeshift, wield fire, and cast illusion. Turning herself into a fox didn’t seem like the right solution, and fire was too drastic. She wanted to drive the pixies away, not torch them.

Doing her best to ignore the pokes and pinches, she closed her eyes and focused her imagination. She needed something the pixies would fear - an enemy, coming at them out of the sky. She took deep, even breaths, and pictured a hawk circling the thermals above. Sharp beak and talons, the deadly shadow of wings rippling over the meadow.

She opened her eyes and squinted up. The shape of a raptor was outlined in the sky above them. She’d done it! Grinning, she brought her illusion diving down, talons extended.

The pixies’ giggles turned to shrieks, their shimmering lights swirling in consternation as the bird attacked. The hawk scattered them, then banked sharply above the tall grasses and began to climb. Two of the pixies hovered uncertainly, but the rest were fleeing. When Jennet made the bird dive again, the remaining shimmers gave a squeak and streaked away.

She watched until all the glowing specks had disappeared over the hills, then let her illusion fade. Sudden weariness washed over her, and she lowered herself to sit, cross-legged, on the ground.

“You ok?” Roy asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just tired. I guess illusion-making takes it out of you.”

“Wait… the hawk. You did that?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised. I had to get rid of those pixies somehow. They were severely bothersome.”

“I’m impressed,” he said.

There was a look in his eyes that made her uncomfortable - as though she were suddenly coated with sugar and he had a raging sweet-tooth. Jennet hurriedly got to her feet.

“Anyway,” she said, “let’s turn in this quest.”

“Ok.” He tucked the bundle of silk under his elbow. “Hob’s cottage is around the corner.”

He was right, of course. The cottage came into view as soon as they rounded the next bend. The goblin sat on the doorstep, exactly where they had left him. As they approached, he rose and held out his spindly arms.

“Have you completed the quest I set you?” he asked in his creaky voice.

“We have.” Roy handed the cloth over, then glanced at her.

She knew they were both thinking the same thing. Would the quest fail because of her dark-marked silk? Her heart sped, like she’d been running.

Hob unfurled the lengths of cloth. He held the white one up and nodded, the motion bobbing his long, curved nose. When he picked up the red one, he gave a small grunt.

“What do I see? How comes this stain upon the silk?” He looked up at Jennet, pinning her with his dark gaze.

“I…” Jennet swallowed. “I don’t know.” The words came out more like a question.

Roy stepped forward. “Look. It’s red, right? That’s what counts. Just call it done and send us to the next level.”

He was arguing with a Non-Player-Character? That was a little extreme - but then, when had Roy ever acted like anything but the center of his own private universe.

The goblin stared at Roy for a long moment before lowering the cloth. “Very well, Royal one. But take heed - the King awaits his tithe. His patience wears thin.”

“I’m getting it.” There was a defiant edge to Roy’s words. “Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

“Soon,” Hob echoed, his voice scraping the word. “But will it be soon enough?”

Roy folded his arms. “Tell the king - ”

“Enough.” The goblin held up a clawed hand. “I delivered my message - I do no more.” He scowled. “Your quest is accepted, adventurers. You have won access to the second circle. Prepare yourselves.”

Roy glanced at her. “Hold on,” he said. “This gets a little wild.”

Didn’t she know it. There was just time to nod before a golden glow surrounded them. Then the world spun, a sudden vortex of glittering light. It wasn’t dangerous, traveling the rings, but it could be disorienting. To her surprise, she felt Roy reach out and catch her hand. It was an annoyingly kind gesture.

The whirling stopped, the light fading away to reveal a deep forest. They stood in the center of a ring of mushrooms - still the white-speckled red ones instead of the pale mushrooms she was used to.

“You alright?” Roy asked, still holding her hand.

“Yeah.” She pulled away, conscious of his stare on her. Think. What would someone unfamiliar with the game say? “Um, that was weird. So, where are we now?”

“We’re at the next faerie ring - the second level of Feyland. Want to keep going?”

She eyed the dark pines towering above them. “No. Let’s log off. I need to get home.”

A minute later, she pulled off her sim helmet, questions burning through her. As soon as Roy was off the system, she turned to him.

“The king that Hob mentioned - is he the final boss?”

“Yeah.” Roy slid out of the chair, not meeting her eyes. “I thought you had to go.”

“So, we can’t talk about Feyland?” She followed him out of the Full-D enclosure. “What’s the tithe thing you’re supposed to pay? It sounds serious.”

“Look, it’s just a game.” His voice was cold. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Wow, where had Mister Super-charm gone? Whatever the tithe was, he obviously didn’t want to discuss it. Did that mean it had something to do with the real world?

She had to talk to Tam, right away.

CHAPTER NINE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam lay on the couch, his sleeping bag draped over him, but he couldn’t rest. Even though his body felt heavy with exhaustion, his brain buzzed, thoughts circling like bees.

Jennet was at Lassiter’s house.

What were they doing? Probably eating something delicious that both of them completely took for granted. Playing on his no-doubt amazing systems, laughing. Lassiter showing off for Jennet, dazzling her. Gaming skills counted for a lot in her world. Just because Tam had beat the Viewer yesterday, it didn’t mean Lassiter wasn’t a prime player.

She said she didn’t see anything special about him - but what if that changed? If Jennet came back to school tomorrow all starry-eyed over Lassiter, Tam didn’t know what he would do. Other than hate himself for pushing her at the guy.

He was worrying too much, he knew it. Jennet could take care of herself - and it wasn’t like he had any claim on her, beyond being her friend. But you want to, part of him whispered. He moved restlessly, the sleeping bag making shushing noises, but there was no getting away from the thought. Even though he knew it was hopeless, he wished… he wished…

“Dammit,” he said, throwing the sleeping bag off and sitting up.

No more lying around, thinking about her smile or how soft her lips would be, if he ever kissed them. Next thing, he’d be wearing black and writing emo poetry about love and blood. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, then let it fall back over his eyes.

The afternoon was shading to dusk, the house quiet and empty. Mom and the Bug had gone out so that he could get some rest - much good that had done. Tam got to his feet and went into the kitchen, flipping the kettle on to make instant coffee. Strong and black, so he could cover the bitter taste in his mouth with something real.

Outside, the stairs creaked, signaling that someone was coming up. He went to the door, bracing himself for Mom’s clinging hug and the Bug’s excited chatter about wherever they had been.

Instead, there was a knock.

“Tam?” It was Jennet’s voice. “Hey, are you there?”

He slid the peephole aside, just to be sure. Yep, Jennet Carter stood outside his door, her hair shining in the last bit of sun.

“Jennet.” He undid the deadbolts and wrenched the door open. “What are you doing here? The Exe isn’t safe for you. You didn’t walk, I hope.”

She made a face. “Thanks, I’d love to come in. Good to see you, too.”

“I’m serious.” He stepped back so she could come inside, then closed and locked the door behind her. “It’s getting dark. You shouldn’t be here.”

He sounded like a grumpy old man, but he couldn’t help himself, even though he was beyond glad to see her.

“I had George drive me. Don’t worry so much.”

Like being chauffeured around in a grav-car wasn’t incredibly conspicuous, especially in the Exe. He bit his tongue to keep from scolding her even more. She didn’t deserve to be a victim of his bad mood.

“Want something hot to drink?” he asked.

He went back to the kitchen, trying not to notice the mess in their two-room house. While he’d been in the hospital, Mom had let the Bug trash the place. Maybe if he ignored the mess, Jennet wouldn’t see it, either. Yeah, right. One of these days, when he got his energy back, he’d start picking up.

“Tea would be good,” she said, following him into the kitchen alcove. “Um, is your family here?”

She glanced at the narrow door to Mom’s bedroom - the only other place they could be, since they clearly weren’t in the living room.

“No,” he said, getting down two mugs. “Black tea?”

She nodded, looking at him with her serious blue eyes. “I have to tell you what happened at Roy’s.”

Did he even want to know? Roy Lassiter wouldn’t be shy about kissing Jennet. Then again, she’d probably slap him. He concentrated on pouring the hot water with a steady hand. Steam curled up, warming his skin.

“Alright,” he said.

“Let’s go sit down,” she said, accepting her mug of tea.

Tam finished stirring his coffee. For a second he stared at the little whirlpool in the center of the liquid. Damn, he was tired. He set the spoon down and followed her into the living room.

“Just push the sleeping bag off the couch,” he said. At least none of his dirty clothes were obviously visible.

She sat and patted the space beside her. “Sit down, Tam. You look terrible. Are you sure the doctors said it was ok for you to be back in school?”

Great. He looked as bad as he felt. He lowered himself onto the thin cushions, and took a scalding sip of coffee.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Tell me about your afternoon with Roy Lassiter.”

“Oh, Tam. You would not believe his gaming setups.” She shook her head. “But the most important thing is he has the Full-D systems. All three prototypes.”

He swallowed, tasting fear along with his coffee. “That’s not good. Are they just for show, or do you think he plays?”

“I know he plays. He took me into Feyland.”

“What?” Hot liquid splashed onto his wrist. He winced and carefully set the mug down. “How could you go back in-game, Jennet?”

Especially without him.

“I had to.” She looked down at the threadbare carpet. “More than anything, I wished you were there.”

He wanted to shake her for being so dumb. He wanted to hug her, for coming out safely. Instead, he gently took her hands. Those hands were damaged now, because she had saved him. She had held him, in-game, had wrested him from the power of the Dark Queen. He owed Jennet his life.

“Are you ok?” he asked, keeping his voice calm. “Any injuries carrying over into the real world?”

“No carryover,” she said. “The fights were easy. I emerged without a scratch.”

She met his eyes and curled her fingers around his. Warmth pooled between them and his breath hitched. It felt good, their skin touching - almost too good.

“Why the hell did you go in?” If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

“When Roy was talking about the game, he called the final boss ‘he.’ It made me think that his Feyland might be different. What if my version is the only bugged one? Maybe faeries aren’t trying to take over the world, after all.”

“And? Is his game different?” Tam squashed down the hope her words kindled. It couldn’t be that easy. Life never was.

She shook her head. “It was hard to tell. Some things, like the starting area, were changed - but the game was still pretty unpredictable. At the end, I got Roy to tell me that the final boss was a king of some kind. A king that’s apparently waiting for Roy to bring him a tithe.”

“And you came straight here.” The knowledge eased the knot inside his chest.

“Of course I did. We’re in this together, Tam.” She gently squeezed his hands, then let go and took a sip of her tea.

He cleared his throat. “What’s a tithe, anyway?”

“A payment, a tax.” She frowned. “The way Roy acted when I asked him - the subject was completely off limits.”

“Alright.” Tam leaned back. “So, Lassiter found a king, instead of a queen. And he owes this king something.”

“I still can’t believe he didn’t encounter the Dark Queen. She’s the end boss.”

“In the Feyland we played, yes. But you already said his game was different. Maybe…” He picked up his coffee and turned the mug back and forth between his palms, thinking. “Maybe he went to a different court.”

Her brows drew together, then snapped up, her eyes going wide. “That’s it! Remember the old book Thomas gave me, Tales of Folk and Faerie?” He nodded, and she continued, her voice fast with excitement. “The fey-folk have two courts - we talked about it in-game once. There are the Unseelie, or dark faeries, and the Seelie.”

“I remember.” Understanding sparked through him. “So, if the Dark Queen is Unseelie…”

“Then this king might be the leader of the Seelie Court,” she finished. “It explains a lot. Why Roy isn’t as damaged as I was after fighting the final boss, but why he still seems to have the magic of Feyland around him.”

“Because the Seelie faeries aren’t nearly as bad as the Unseelie.” Tam nodded. “It makes a tweaked kind of sense. So, how did Roy get there, instead of the Dark Court?”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know - but maybe the different landscape influences where the player ends up.”

“I bet your connection to Thomas is part of it, too,” Tam said. “You went to the Dark Court.”

“And he’s the Dark Queen’s Bard.” Jennet’s voice was solemn. “Do you think the Seelie faeries have the same problem as the Dark Court - that without enough human contact, they’re fading away?”

“It makes sense.” He took another swallow of coffee. “Both courts are part of the Realm of Faerie, which Thomas said is starting to die.”

“I don’t like the sound of this tithe that Roy owes the king.” Her voice trembled, ever so slightly. “The last faerie payment was you, Tam.”

Coldness crept up his spine. “Then we better hope the Seelie Court isn’t into human sacrifice. Or Lassiter’s in severe trouble.”

CHAPTER TEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet got home a few minutes before her dad, which was a relief. He didn’t mind her spending time with Tam, but her going into the Exe would have made him furious. Luckily George, the chauffeur, was on her side - sort of. He wouldn’t tell Dad where she’d been unless directly asked.

When Dad walked in the door, it was clear that asking about her afternoon was the last thing on his mind.

“Welcome home, sir,” HANA said. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”

Instead of responding like he always did, he just stood there in the entryway holding his briefcase. His face was set in a grim expression.

“Dad?” She went over to him. “Are you all right?”

“Jen.” He gave himself a little shake. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Moving like his bones hurt, he put his briefcase down and slowly removed his coat. One of the maids bustled up - no doubt alerted by HANA that Mr. Carter was home - and whisked the coat away.

“Sit down.” Jennet took his arm, worry pulsing through her. “What happened? HANA, send my dad something to drink, please.”

“Whiskey,” her dad added.

“Right away,” the house replied.

When he got to the couch, Dad sank down and stared at his hands. “I can’t believe it. After all that work, all those years…” He shook his head.

“What?” She sat beside him, suddenly chilled. “Did VirtuMax fire you?”

“No - it’s worse than that.”

“How could it be worse?”

“They pulled me off the project.”

“You’re…” she swallowed, her throat dry with worry. “You’re not in charge of Feyland any more?”

This was bad. Even though Dad hadn’t been able to stop Feyland, he had done what he could. Now there was nothing standing in the way of the company releasing the game.

He gave a thin laugh. “It would be better in some ways if they had, in fact, fired me. But no - they’ve shunted me off to work on the Virtual Conferencing beta.”

“What happened?”

“They’re moving the Full-D release forward, again. When I heard that… well, I lost it. I’m the project manager and they’re making all these decisions without me. I stormed into Dr. Lassiter’s office and demanded she listen.”

Obviously, she hadn’t.

One of the maids came in and set a glass of amber liquid on the low table. Dad grabbed the glass and took a long swallow.

“I told Dr. Lassiter the equipment is dangerous,” he continued, “told her she’s opening up the company to enormous lawsuits in the future. She shook her head and said the Full-D is perfectly safe - that her own son has played it for almost a year now, with no problems.”

“Right,” Jennet breathed.

It explained a lot about why VirtuMax was so determined to go ahead with the launch. The CEO’s own son had been playing, and hadn’t had any issues with the system. No wonder the company wouldn’t listen, not with that example in front of them.

“I…” He took another drink, then set the glass down. “I started yelling at her then. How the hell could she tell me it was safe? She wasn’t there in the hospital, she didn’t see the burned hands, the boy in a coma.” His voice broke. “Her best friend dead in his sim chair.”

“Oh, Dad.” Jennet put her arms around him and squeezed, tight.

He leaned against her for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. “She made me sit there while she called in the company counselor. They asked me a bunch of questions, and decided that Thomas’s death had obviously affected me deeply, I hadn’t dealt with it properly, and I couldn’t handle the stress of the accelerated timeline. I’m required to go in for regular psych-evals. They took me off the project, and reassigned me to one without the ‘taxing personal issues’ of Feyland.”

“But,” her voice was shaky, “who’s in charge of Feyland now?”

“Dr. Lassiter herself. And she’s set a firm launch date for the game.”

“When?” She could barely say the word.

“January second - just in time for the new year.”

Fear stabbed into her lungs, stealing her breath. January second? She made a quick calculation. Five weeks. She and Tam only had five weeks to figure out if Feyland truly posed a danger to the mortal world. And if it did?

When the game went live, the Wild Hunt would rampage, the Dark Queen would rule, and humans would be at the mercy of her fey magic.

Time was running out.

The cafeteria was noisy, but not as loud as the clamor of worry in her head. She’d explained to Tam what had happened to her dad, and that the company had accelerated the schedule for Feyland’s launch.

“What now?” she asked, leaning over her tray of mushy vegetables.

Maybe Tam had some ideas, though she had the sinking feeling there was only one thing they could do. She’d spent half the night awake, trying to think of a solution, and had finally come up with the answer.

Tam was going to hate it.

He stopped prodding his lunch and met her eyes. “We need to get back into Feyland.”

She nodded. “I agree, but if we go on my systems, we won’t learn anything. I think… I have to go back in-game with Roy. Get him to take me to the Court.”

“No.” He shoved his tray away. “No way - you’re not going without me. What if our theory about the Seelie Court is wrong? What if you meet the Dark Queen? I can’t let you do that alone.”

She shivered. “I know - but we still don’t understand enough about Roy’s version of Feyland. He could be in serious danger. The whole world could… or not. The only way to find out is by going back in-game. His game.”

“Fine. Then I’m coming, too.” He stood. “In fact, I’ll go ask Lassiter right now if he’d like to game again. I bet he’d love to even the score between us.”

“Wait…” It was a decent idea, but she knew enough about Roy to know it would never work. In fact, it would kill any chance of slipping Tam in under the radar.

Before she could stop him, Tam strode to the front of the cafeteria, halting at the long table Roy had claimed as his own. He spoke, and Roy responded, shaking his head. Tam lifted his hand, as if asking a question. Whatever the answer was, it disappointed him. His shoulders fell. He said something else to Roy, then turned and walked back to where Jennet sat.

“No luck?” She could tell from his expression.

Tam sat down and folded his arms. “Prince Lassiter made it clear that no Exies were allowed at his pristine mansion. But if we wanted to meet at Zeg’s again, he’d be glad to teach me a lesson in defeat.”

“You refused.”

“Yeah.” He let out a heavy breath. “I don’t care what he says. I’m coming along with you anyway.”

“Then he’d just turn us both away. Tam - ”

“Hi, guys.” Marny set her tray down next to Jennet’s, effectively ending their conversation.

“Hey, Marny,” Jennet said. “Glad you could join us.”

It had been a few days since the other girl had eaten lunch with them. Maybe whatever weird hold Roy had over her was fading.

“Did you get kicked out of the harem?” Tam asked.

Marny made a face, looking almost like her old self. “I got tired of watching Keeli make a fool of herself. I can’t believe she got his attention! Roy could do so much better.”

Jennet glanced to the front of the cafeteria. She hadn’t noticed before, but Keeli, the black-haired girl from The View was sitting right next to Roy - and he had his arm around her. Did that mean the rest of the girls would become immune to his dubious charm? Judging from the adoring looks around him, it didn’t seem so.

“Better than a good-looking Viewer?” Tam shook his head. “You don’t need him anyway. Come on, Marny, it’s not so tragic. He just went with his own kind.”

A doleful expression crossed her round face. “But Roy is great, and she’s nothing but an over-privileged, empty-headed, rich - ow! Tam, don’t kick me. You know I don’t think Jennet’s like that.”

Jennet shifted. There was enough truth in Marny’s words to hit close to the bone. And Tam approved of Roy’s choice. His own kind. Like that was the only option for someone who lived in The View. Tears made a sudden lump in her throat.

She grabbed her tray and stood up. “I have to run… catch up on some homework. See you later.”

“Wait,” Tam said as she turned away. “Jennet…”

“Talk to you after school,” she said, not looking at him. “Bye.”

She walked past the table where Roy was laughing at something Keeli had said. The black-haired girl looked blissfully happy, and the hurt inside Jennet scratched even harder.

She was a fool for hoping, but somewhere along the way the warmth of their friendship had changed. At least for her. It was getting more and more difficult to pretend things were still the same.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam slung his battered pack to the ground, leaned one shoulder against the wall, and tried not to look like he was waiting for Jennet. Still, he knew it the moment she walked out of the school.

She glanced up and saw him. For a second, she hesitated. His breath tightened, then eased when she came over to join him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

She looked like she’d been crying. Not obviously, but there was a puffiness around her eyes, and her lashes were stuck together with the memory of tears.

He jammed his hands into his pockets, feeling toxic. Here was Jennet, who had so much going for her, and all he could do was drag her down.

She stared at the ground, and there didn’t seem to be anything to say. He looked at her, tongue glued to the top of his mouth. A couple more students came through the doors.

“Look,” he said, grateful for the distraction, “there goes Lassiter with his new girlfriend.” They had their arms around each other, and Keeli was staring up into Lassiter’s face.

“Guess that means he won’t be inviting me over,” Jennet said.

“Good.” The word was out before he could think. “Listen, about what I said at lunch… I just wanted to make Marny feel better.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t believe what you were saying. That Viewers belong with their own kind.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Jennet.” He swiped the hair out of his eyes. “But we’re still friends, right?”

“Friends.” She said the word like it was dirt in her mouth. “Is that what you want? A pet rich-girl for a friend?”

“Of course not! You’re so much more than that. You deserve the best.”

She met his eyes, anger sparking her gaze. “Do I? Is Roy Lassiter the best, in your book? Is that really what I deserve - an egotistical, shallow guy who treats me like an idiot? You think that highly of me, huh?”

She had a point. “Well - ”

“What about a guy who stands by his word? A guy who always tries to do the right thing? Who risked his life to save me? Maybe I deserve someone like that, Tam Linn. Maybe I deserve you. Ever think of that?”

“I…” He swallowed and glanced at the ground. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“So, start thinking.” She let out a low breath. “That’s all I ask.”

Part of him wanted to turn on his heel and head for the Exe. This was too hard. He was going to let her down anyway - it might as well be now. But the part of him that had battled monsters and braved dark magic was too stubborn to let go. Jennet was worth it.

Her words knocked around inside him, chipping the edges off of things he’d always believed were true. He didn’t believe her, not quite, but he couldn’t just walk away.

“Alright.” He met her gaze, held it. “Forgive me?”

The frustration in her expression faded, the heat of anger in her eyes softening to warmth.

“Okay,” she said, after a moment. “Now grab your stuff and come on - George is waiting with the grav-car.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“My house. I want to try something. That is… if you’re free.”

His head was whirling. One minute, he and Jennet were barely speaking, the next, she’d given him a royal talking-to and was taking him home with her. That was progress, right? He bent and scooped up his backpack. At least nothing was permanently broken between them.

“Mom’s around,” he said. “For now, anyway. I don’t have to take care of the Bug after school. So, yeah. I’ll come over.”

She smiled at him, just a wisp of a smile, but it was enough to lift his mood out of the shadows. He slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Do you still have that temporary badge for me to get into The View?” he asked.

Peons from the Exe couldn’t just go waltzing into the VirtuMax compound without some kind of security access. The pass certainly had a tracker in it, in case he got unruly and went someplace he wasn’t supposed to, but at least it would let him through the gates.

She dug around in her bag, then handed him the guest badge. Tam waited until he got in the grav-car to clip it on. No matter how many times he’d ridden in the vehicle - and it had to have been nearly a dozen by now - he still couldn’t get used to how plush it was.

“Hello, Mr. Linn,” the chauffeur said. “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

“It’s good to be here,” Tam said, giving George a half smile.

The chauffeur didn’t say much, but he didn’t miss much, either. Unlike Jennet’s house manager, Tam got the feeling George sort of liked him. Well, didn’t despise him at least, which went a long way in The View.

The quiet smoothness of the ride still took Tam by surprise. That, and the drastic way the neighborhoods cleaned up on the way to Jennet’s. By the time they whooshed under the plas-metal archway of The View, things were pristine. Clean and newly-painted, with eerily similar mansions lining the street and not a single person in sight.

Jennet had been staring out the window the whole time, which was fine with him. They couldn’t talk freely with George listening, anyway. The grav-car pulled into the circular driveway and the back doors slid open.

“Thanks,” Tam said.

The chauffeur nodded. “Glad you could come for a visit.”

“Could you take Tam home, when we’re done?” Jennet asked.

“Certainly, Miss Carter. Just inform me when you’re ready.”

Tam got out of the car. He didn’t like George taking that gleaming machine into the Exe, even the outskirts where he lived. It was too conspicuous - a nice juicy target - but every time he argued with the driver to just drop him off in regular Crestview, George refused.

“We will,” Jennet said. “Thanks.”

She grabbed her bag and led the way up the wide stone path leading to her house. The place was four stories high, with balconies that jutted out on the upper levels and dozens of windows. The fountain in the front was lit up, a sparkle and cascade of water that seemed like it belonged somewhere public, not as a lawn decoration that maybe five people ever saw.

Jennet held her wrist up to the front door and it opened with a soft chime.

“Welcome home, Jennet,” a perfectly modulated female voice said as they stepped over the threshold. “You have brought Mr. Linn. Staff has been notified.”

“Right,” Jennet said. “We’ll be up in the game-room.”

“Confirmed.”

Tam shook his head. He couldn’t get used to the house network, either. No matter how complicated things got at home, at least his place didn’t talk to him. He liked it that way - no machines peering over his shoulder all the time.

“One moment, please. The house manager wishes to speak with you,” the computer said.

“Great.” Jennet pressed her lips together. “I wonder what Marie wants.”

Tam had a pretty good idea.

The click of heels announced the house manager’s arrival. She was dressed in a suit, and was as short as Tam remembered - though there was nothing small about the scowl she sent him.

“Miss Carter,” she said in her clipped accent. “As you recall, the last time you brought this person as a guest, we discussed the need for a more in-depth security clearance.”

“Ah, yes,” Jennet said.

At least this time she didn’t look nervous at the thought. Guess she trusted him enough now to believe he didn’t have a criminal past.

Marie, though, was clearly convinced that he was going to go home with his pockets full of small valuables if she didn’t fingerprint him right away. She whipped out her sleek tablet and held it out toward him.

“Place your right hand on the screen,” she said. “Hold still until the scan is complete.”

He did, trying not to notice how Marie’s gaze catalogued every fray and rip in his clothing. She wrinkled her nose, as if she could smell the Exe on him.

The tablet beeped softly, and the house manager snatched it back and took a few quick steps away. She studied the screen, the soft light illuminating the disappointment on her face.

“Well, Mr. Linn, it looks like the system has no record of your illegal activities.”

“Marie!” Jennet set her hands on her hips. “Tam’s my guest. Don’t speak to him like that.”

The house manager looked up, her ink-thin eyebrows lifting. She stared at Tam until he felt reduced to a little black beetle, an unwanted insect on the polished floor of the Carter’s entryway. One that Marie would squish with the pointed toe of her shoe, if she could.

“Miss Carter. I cannot say I approve of you spending time in this person’s company.”

Jennet lifted her chin. “It’s not your choice. Tam’s going to be a regular guest here. I require that you treat him civilly, and see that he’s issued a permanent pass.”

She blew an impatient breath through her nose. “Very well. If you insist.”

“I do,” Jennet said. “That will be all.”

Marie shot Tam one last, sour look, then turned and stalked down the hallway. Her footsteps were sharp enough to crack stone. Tam half-expected to feel the house shake from the force of her displeasure.

“Sorry,” Jennet said. “Marie gets full of herself sometimes. It’s all good now.”

He doubted it.

Tam followed her up the stairs, the thick carpeting cushioning his footsteps as if he were walking on clouds. At the end of the hall, the wide double-doors of the game room stood open. Inside, he glimpsed the gleam of LEDs, the shine of a sim helmet - a techie’s treasure trove. Jennet’s game room was as big as his house, and almost as well equipped. Put in a fridge and micro, and you could live here, easy.

She hit the jamming switch beside the Full-D systems, activating the privacy frequency VirtuMax had installed to keep corporate spies and hackbots out.

“So,” he said. “What’s your plan?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I was thinking… When I played with Roy, I made a different character. If I re-create her and go in-game here, that might help change things.”

“Should I switch, too?”

He slung his backpack into the corner by the door, then glanced at the sim-systems. His pulse notched up at the thought of re-entering Feyland. Even though he’d almost ended up as a sacrifice to the Dark Queen, he and Jennet had beaten her. They’d won. It was dangerous, true, but it also made him feel alive in a way nothing else did. A part of him - a big part - couldn’t wait to return to Feyland.

Jennet tilted her head and considered him. “No, don’t change - I think we still need your Knight. He’s the best heavy-armor fighter class in the game. And one of us should be on our strongest character. I’m still getting the hang of the Kitsune.”

Tam headed for one of the sim chairs. “What kind of character did Lassiter play?”

“Mercenary, of course.” She made a face. “Decent fighter, but way full of himself.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Hold on,” she said. “One of the maids will bring up a snack. We don’t want to go in-game until after she’s gone.”

“Oh, right.” He veered away from the sim equip, though he felt their pull like a magnet. “After we eat, then.”

He’d forgotten how Jennet lived. Like a princess - driven around, cooked for, her every need anticipated. It was amazing she’d ended up such a competent person, with all that pampering.

Just one more way their lives were ridiculously different.

At least when he was in-game he could forget about that for a little while - could leave his flawed life behind and be his best self. Someone worthwhile. Heroic, even.

“Miss Carter?” A timid-looking woman in a uniform hovered in the doorway, holding a tray of food.

“Thanks, Tish - set it over there.” Jennet gestured to the low table by the seating area.

The maid scurried in, put the tray down, and left. She didn’t even glance at Tam. Was it a good thing to be invisible to the staff? Or did it mean he wasn’t even worthy of their notice? He shook his head. Either way, it didn’t matter. Jennet wanted him here, and that was enough.

“Smells good,” he said.

His stomach growled at the aroma of something fresh-baked. Now that Mom was around he ate a little more regularly, but meals were still scanty. He headed for the couch.

“Guess Marie doesn’t want us to starve,” Jennet said.

Tam picked up a blueberry muffin. It was still warm, and smelled delicious.

“Are you sure she didn’t poison mine?” He was only half joking.

Jennet rolled her eyes. “And risk killing me, too? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe she’s already fed you the antidote.”

“Tam, you’re too sensitive. Marie doesn’t hate you.”

She didn’t see it - but then, he doubted Jennet had been the target of serious dislike very often in her life. Maybe when she’d first come in as a new student to Crestview, but soon enough she’d been accepted. Grudgingly, maybe, but nobody despised her - especially once they saw she wasn’t a rich-bitch entitlement diva, even if she was a Viewer.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take my chances.”

He took a bite of still-warm muffin, trying not to groan at how good it tasted. He ate three muffins, four slices of cheese, and a bunch of grapes in the time it took Jennet to finish one muffin.

“More?” She slid the tray toward him.

“No. Let’s get in-game.” Anticipation spiked through him.

She stood and went to wash up at the small sink in one corner of the room. Tam brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for playing?” he asked, heading for the Full-D systems.

“Probably.” She pressed her lips together, then picked up the gloves. “But this is important. And if it works, well, maybe there’s no danger after all. We have to find out, Tam. You know that.”

“Yeah.”

He slid into his usual gaming chair and pulled on the gloves, taking a deep, surreptitious breath. In addition to the sheen of metal and the jewel-bright LEDs, the system even smelled good - a mix of machine and opulence that he couldn’t quite describe. Did Jennet notice it, too, or was it just one more thing she took for granted?

He pulled on the helmet, his pulse doing a happy-dance at the thought of simming again. It had been way too long - that duel with Lassiter barely counted.

“See you in there,” she said. “And keep your fingers crossed.”

“Not that easy to play with crossed fingers,” he said, trying to make her smile.

It worked. She shook her head at him, a smile at the corners of her mouth, then pulled down the visor of her helmet.

At the sim interface, he selected the F icon from the menu. His nerves tingled with excitement as the visor-screen went dark. Back in-game.

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

WELCOME TO FEYLAND

The letters glowed against the blackness, turned from gold to deep crimson, then faded to gray. Tam braced himself for the transition as the music swelled. A blare of brightness across his senses, a sick churning in his stomach - the indicators that he was going elsewhere. A place between, as the ghost of Thomas had once described it.

That was another good thing about going back in-game - maybe they could talk to Thomas. Surely the former designer would be able to help them out, the way he had in the past.

Tam’s vision cleared and he found himself in a glade surrounded by white-barked trees. Everything looked the same as usual, and his thrill faded. If Jennet couldn’t change the game, no way were they going to go quest. If the Dark Queen saw them again… A chill shuddered through him.

Her parting threat had been to rip out his heart.

The air beside him shimmered, and Jennet’s character appeared. He blinked. Even though he knew she was going to change characters, it was still a surprise not to see her Spellweaver.

The spell-caster had been replaced with a more feral avatar. She seemed smaller, lighter-boned - though maybe it was because she was wearing close-fitting armor instead of long, flowing robes. Delicate ears pointed through her hair, and she had a wicked-looking bow strapped to her back.

“Nice,” he said. “You look fierce.”

She nodded at him. “So do you. Doesn’t look like your armor tarnished while you were gone.”

“Knights don’t rust. So…” he glanced around at the clearing, “looks like we’re in the same old Feyland.”

Jennet turned in a slow circle. When she came back around to face him, her eyes were alight.

“Don’t be too sure,” she said. “Check out the mushrooms.”

He took a closer look at the faerie ring encircling them. Instead of the usual pale, glowy mushrooms, these were red with white spots.

“That’s not a big change,” he said, trying not to hope. “We could still be in your version of Feyland.”

“Maybe - though these are exactly like the ones in Roy’s game. What if this worked?” Her voice held suppressed excitement.

The breeze blew a strand of hair across her cheek. Without thinking, he reached to tuck it back in place. The edges of his fingers brushed her face, and his heart gave a painful lurch. Did she deserve him? Did he deserve her?

She stilled, her eyes wide.

Pulse racing, he pulled his hand back - although crazy thoughts prickled under his skin. What would happen, if he kissed her in-game? Would it count, in the real world? And how far did the sensory interface go, anyway?

She looked at him a moment longer, then let out her breath and stepped out of the circle. One hand on his sword, Tam followed. A mossy path spangled with white flowers led between the trees. The wind whispered in the leaves overhead, and he heard the chiming laughter of pixies.

Jennet glanced up at the sound. “The pixies attacked me, when I was in-game with Roy.”

“Attacked you? How? They’re tiny specks.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “But bees are small, too, and you wouldn’t want a swarm of them on you. Anyway, I think the pixies recognized me, from playing before.”

“So, maybe there is a connection between the Courts. And between the games.”

He glanced up at the shimmers dancing through the trees. Time to find some answers. He just hoped Feyland would cooperate.

Senses primed, he started down the path. Behind him, Jennet’s footfalls were light. The pixies floated, keeping pace with them, but didn’t come any closer. Was that a good sign, or not? It felt as though the game was holding its breath.

After a minute the forest thinned, revealing glimpses of rolling green hills beyond. They came out of the trees, and he looked around. Nothing but waving grasses and scattered clumps of bushes.

“No cottage,” Jennet said, coming up beside him. She glanced around, then frowned. “Either Hob or Fynnod should be here. Something, anyway. Do you think we broke the game?”

“No - it doesn’t feel broken. Maybe Feyland hasn’t made up its mind where to take us.”

She folded her arms. “We need a quest-giver.”

He shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned the horizon.

“I think I see something,” he said. “There, where the hills dip down. Can’t tell if it’s a building or what, though. Let’s go see.”

“All right, but be on guard,” she said. “In Roy’s game, we were jumped by some creatures right after we left the cottage.”

“Then stay close.”

He set off, heading toward the low hills. The meadow sloped up and down, and in a few minutes the forest was a distant smudge behind them. Time and distance were weird like that, in-game.

“Tam, wait.” Jennet stopped, glancing at the hillocks to either side. “This looks like the place where Roy and I were ambush - ”

The ground in front of them exploded, sending clods of earth spraying around them. Three red-cap goblins scrambled out of the dirt, brandishing wickedly-barbed spears. They bared their pointed teeth and rushed forward.

“Get back!” Tam yelled, pulling his sword.

His shield appeared, strapped to his arm - just in time. Two of the spear-points met it with a clang, and he felt the shock down to his toes. He ducked, and the other spear whistled past his helm.

Behind him, he heard the twang of a bow-string. A blue-shafted arrow sped by and glanced off the leather armor of the right-hand goblin.

Tam moved to the side, weaving around the spears and trying to give Jennet a clear shot.

“Aurgch!” cried the lead goblin as an arrow struck his arm. He stopped attacking and tried to pluck it out.

Ignoring the assault on their leader, the other goblins didn’t hold back. Tam parried their spear thrusts, dancing back, ducking. Frustration sizzled through him. He couldn’t attack - those nasty spears held him at a distance, making his blade pretty much useless. Jennet’s arrows were slowing the first goblin, but the others were a problem.

He raised his shield and charged forward. Metal screeched as one of the spears slid across his armor, but he was close enough now - inside the reach of the points, where his sword could finally be useful. He stabbed the goblin in front of him, and green blood spurted from its shoulder. It fell back with a cry, only to be replaced by the second creature.

This one seemed to realize it couldn’t poke at Tam. It brought the spear haft up with both hands, using it like a quarter-staff to block Tam’s attack. The two of them circled, making quick feints. Tam landed a strike, cutting the goblin’s arm, and was rewarded with a blow to the side of the head that made his ears ring.

The wounded goblin, clutching his shoulder, came up on Tam’s right. On his left, the leader moved forward, with four arrows sticking out of him. The creature in front of him raised his spear and grinned.

Tam swung, hard, just as the three goblins rushed him. His sword imbedded itself in the leader’s chest armor - and stuck. The goblin staggered, then gained his balance and gave Tam an evil grin.

“Jennet,” Tam called, “keep shooting!”

Where were the arrows? Why had she stopped?

He wrenched his blade free, but it cost him a blow to his ribs that nearly took his breath. Before he could recover, the leader swept his spear low, tangling Tam’s legs.

“Jennet!” he cried again, trying to keep his balance. “Shoot him, now!”

The goblins hefted their spears, a killing light in their eyes. Tam was at their mercy - and they knew it.

“Hold on,” Jennet called. “One more second.”

He didn’t have a second. Praying he wouldn’t stab himself, he threw himself into a roll. A wicked spear point swished past his ear, and everything seemed to slow down. The goblins leered and advanced, while he scrambled to his feet. Too slowly. There was no way he could deflect all three spears, poised to jab and rend. Regret seared through him. He’d failed Jennet.

A horn sounded, clear and silvery. From behind him came the thunder of hoof beats. The goblins looked up, and their faces went slack. A moment later, they turned and fled, clutching their spears and making high, whimpering sounds.

Tam froze in place as a tide of mounted knights swept by on either side of him. The ground shook under his feet, the white horses passing a hair’s breadth away. As they flew past, he saw that the knights were wearing white tabards with red crosses emblazoned on the front. They held their glowing swords aloft, pursuing the fleeing goblins over the rise.

Two heartbeats later, the crusading knights were gone. The grass ahead was flattened, the only sign that anything had just happened.

“Did you see that?” Tam turned. “Jennet!”

She lay crumpled in a heap on the ground. Panic spiked his heartbeat as he sprinted to her. Had the mounted knights trampled her? He tossed his sword to the side and gathered her in his arms, searching for her heartbeat. When his fingers found the pulse in her throat, he let out a shaky breath.

“Jennet, can you hear me? Hey, wake up.” He smoothed the hair back from her face. Please, open your eyes. Be all right.

For a long moment there was no response. Fear stuttered in his chest. Then her eyelids fluttered open.

“Tam?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

He tried not to squeeze her too tightly. “You scared me.”

It was a weak word for the panic that had consumed him. Damn it. When had Jennet become so important? When she saved your life? a voice inside him suggested. Or maybe when he’d saved hers.

“Did the knights appear?” she asked, trying to sit up. “Did we beat the goblins?”

He leaned back, giving her some space, but kept one arm around her for support.

“Yeah,” he said. “A bunch of knights came out of nowhere and kicked their goblin asses. Just in time, too.”

“It worked!” She managed a wavering smile. “That’s so sparked. I created them with my Kitsune illusion powers, when I saw the fight was getting grim.”

“They were great - but Jennet,” he gave her a tiny shake, “it doesn’t do any good to summon an army to help us, if it kills you in the process.”

“I wasn’t expecting the illusion to take so much out of me.” She frowned. “I created a hawk, when I was in-game with Roy, and that only made me a little tired.”

“An army of mounted knights riding to the rescue is a bit more complicated than a bird.”

“Yeah.” She blew out her breath. “But they saved your butt. That was no easy-level fight.”

For a second, his body clenched with the memory of those deadly spears aimed right at him.

“Maybe the game doesn’t want us to find a quest-giver.”

“We’re not that easy to stop.” She sat forward. “I’m feeling a little better. I think this illusion thing is like when we summon items in-game.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. Something can’t be created from nothing - and the bigger the stuff, the more it takes out of you.”

“I wonder if…” she raised her arms.

“Jennet, stop.” He caught her hands. “Don’t drain your energy.”

“But when there’s another fight - ”

“Stick with the bow for now,” he said. “You’re a decent shot. We can figure this illusion-casting out later.”

“All right.” She leaned back against him. “I have to say, we make a great team.”

Their hands were still clasped. Tam dipped his head and brushed his lips over the top of her hair. So lightly, she couldn’t feel it - a stolen glimpse of happiness. She smelled like flowers.

“We should get going,” she said after a minute.

“You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah. Help me stand.”

Tam got to his feet and pulled her up. She swayed a second, then caught her balance.

“Makes me wish I had my mage staff,” she said.

“You can lean on me.” Always.

“I don’t want to get in the way of your sword.” She took a few steps, then gave him a pale smile. “Good as new. Let’s go.”

He kept a close eye on her, ready to catch her if she stumbled, but she did seem to be recovered. The long grasses around them moved in the breeze, and the sky was a perfect blue overhead, but Tam didn’t let down his guard.

They headed toward the place he’d seen earlier, where the hills opened up. Sometimes it seemed close, and then they would crest a rise and the meadow would stretch onward, like they’d made no progress at all. Finally, he glimpsed the structure up ahead. It was grey and rocky, covered with swatches of moss, as though it had grown out of the ground.

“Look,” Jennet said. “You were right - there’s something there.”

“It doesn’t look like a building.” He squinted, trying to make sense of the shape. “Any ideas?”

She tilted her head. “It’s a dolmen.”

“A what?”

“Two standing stones with a capstone laid over the top. You know, like an ancient gravesite.”

He didn’t know, but as they approached there was something primally familiar about the shape. The massive granite stones formed a shape like a doorway. His nerves tightened.

“Stop.” He gestured for Jennet to stay back, then pulled his sword and squinted into the shadows. “There’s something in there.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet grabbed her bow, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She was barely recovered from the last fight - her weapon felt heavy in her hands, and she just wanted to sit down in the sweetly scented grass and take a rest. But there was no napping in Feyland.

Holding his sword at the ready, Tam approached the dark opening of the dolmen. She reached for an arrow and quietly nocked it to her bow. The wind ruffled the grasses, but inside the stones everything was still. She wanted to call out for him to be careful, but held her tongue. Tam knew what he was doing.

The silence stretched, shadows gathering thickly in the hollow of stones. Then a thunk issued from the opening.

“Come out,” Tam said.

For a moment, there was no answer. Then a figure moved forward into the light - a man with ancient, weary eyes and gray-brown hair. He had a guitar slung across his back.

All her fear left her in a rush. “Thomas!”

She dropped her bow and sprinted toward him, tears prickling the back of her eyes. He held out his arms, and she went straight into his hug.

“There you are, Jennet,” he said in his warm, raspy voice. “And Tamlin as well. I have been waiting for you, though I had hoped our meeting would not come so soon.”

Tam slid his sword back into its sheath, metal hissing on metal.

“What do you mean, waiting for us?” he asked. “How long have you been here?”

“How long? I cannot say. Time has a different meaning in Feyland. Long enough, it seems.” Thomas let go of Jennet and stepped back, looking her over. “You have taken a new form. I pray it serves you well on the path fate has laid for you.”

“Fate?” she asked.

He nodded. “It is always at work, but here in the Realm one can feel fate clearly, weaving the threads of lives. Come - place your hands against the stone.”

Thomas moved to the dolmen and laid his palm on the granite. Jennet followed, though she wasn’t sure she believed in destiny or whatever. The stone was rough and sun-warmed under her hand. After a moment, Tam did the same, a skeptical look in his green eyes.

“Now,” Thomas said, “close your eyes. Do you feel the power, the magic and intent of the land?”

She did - a vibration thrumming through the stone, like a note too low to hear, but felt in her chest, in her bones. The skin of her palm throbbed, then suddenly flared up, as though she had passed her hand over a flame.

“Ow!” She snatched it away and stared at her palm.

The red scar burned into her hand was glowing, so bright it was almost white-hot. As she watched, the light faded, along with the searing sensation, until the mark left by the Dark Queen was just a faint trace on her skin.

“Are you ok?” Tam stood in front of her.

“Yeah.” Her voice wobbled. “Look - my right hand is almost completely healed.”

She held out her hands, palms up, and he took them gently, comparing the two. “Wow. Can the stone fix the other one, too?”

“Worth a try.”

She put her left palm to the granite - but there was no humming within the rock, no flare of energy. When she took her hand away, it was unchanged.

Tam frowned. “It didn’t work.”

“I suspected it would not,” Thomas said. “The magic of this place never moves in the same way twice. It is beautiful, and confusing, and dangerous, as you both well know. More dangerous by the day, as the power of the Realm stirs. It wants to flow into the human world like a wave, washing everything before it and changing the mortal realm beyond recognition.”

Jennet shivered, fear seeping into her like an icy mist. “So… my version of Feyland isn’t just a fluke? The game really is dangerous?”

“It is perilous beyond words.” Thomas slung his guitar off his back and began to play a mournful melody. “We must speak of it quietly. Better not to draw the attention of the powers that rule the Realm.”

“Where are we, anyway?” Tam asked. “This doesn’t seem like the way to the Dark Court, not exactly.”

“We are on the fringes of Feyland. A place where possibilities overlap. Where things are, and are not, at the same time.”

Thomas always spoke in half-riddles. He’d been poetical when he was alive, and becoming the queen’s Bard had only made it worse. Of course, when he was alive, he had also talked about baseball and tech stuff and movies - things that didn’t exist in the Realm of Faerie.

She had the uncomfortable thought that his humanity was beginning to fade, diluted by dwelling among the fey folk. If only she could get him out somehow - but he had refused to leave Feyland, saying he no longer had a body to return to. She supposed he was right, but the thought of him stuck here forever with the Dark Queen made her want to weep.

“Now what?” Tam asked. “We just stand here and listen to you give a concert?”

Jennet gave him a warning glance. He was always so impatient with Thomas.

“Have you heard of another mortal coming here recently?” she asked. “There’s a guy in our school who has some kind of weird powers. He’s played Feyland. And he talked about a king.”

“Ah.” Thomas’s fingers moved to shape a minor chord. “There have been no mortals in the Dark Court since you defeated the queen. She was greatly angered - it is best if you never return to her court. But there is another place this human boy might have traveled.”

Tam leaned forward. “So we’re right - there is a Seelie court?”

“In this land, at this time, it is called the Bright Court,” Thomas said. “Heed the power of names, Tamlin.”

“Is it ruled by a king?” Jennet asked.

Her nerves tingled with anticipation. Finally, they were getting the answers they needed. Even if those answers were grim - like knowing Feyland truly was a threat.

“Indeed,” Thomas said. “The Bright King is gathering his power. If you wish to keep your mortal world safe, you must find a way to stop him.”

“Defeat him in battle?” Tam asked.

“Perhaps.” Thomas played another curl of melody. “Defeat can come in many forms.”

“But you can help us,” she said. “Like you did with the queen.”

“Alas, I cannot.”

Her throat went dry with disappointment “Why not? Thomas, we need you.”

“It is impossible for me to enter the Bright Court. I am bound to the Dark Queen, and thus barred from the halls of the Seelie.”

“Can’t you do anything?” She couldn’t help the pleading note in her voice. How could he just abandon them?

“I may only give you counsel.” Thomas looked at her with his sad eyes. “But it does not mean that others cannot assist you.”

“Who?” she asked. “Puck?”

“Like his help is so helpful,” Tam said.

She turned to him. “If Thomas can’t help us, we need everything we can get. And Puck got us out of some rough places last time, remember?”

“Yeah, but - ”

“Children, be still.” Thomas played a quick run of notes. “My time here grows short, but I have one last piece of advice. Use the strengths that gained you victory once, and you will triumph in the end.”

Jennet could see the outline of the stones behind him - his presence was starting to fade.

“Which strengths?” Jennet asked, her voice thick with sorrow. “Wait - Thomas…”

“Do not cry, Jennet. We must go where fate sends us, and do our best. Even if we do not understand the purpose, or feel strong or wise enough to play our part. Now listen - yonder lies the boundary of the lands claimed by the Bright Court.” He pointed to a tall, gray rock poking up from the horizon. “You must reach the standing stone marking the border. Do not tarry here overlong.”

“But…”

She lifted her hand toward him, but he was disappearing before her eyes. There was almost nothing left but a dim outline against the granite, an echo of notes hanging in the air.

“Trust one another.” The words were a whisper.

Then Thomas was gone, and there were only empty shadows beneath the dolmen. Jennet swallowed past the tightness of tears. Why did he always have to leave?

“Come on,” Tam said, taking her hand. “I’m worried that standing stone is going to disappear. It wasn’t there before.”

She let him pull her away from the dolmen and in the direction Thomas had indicated. The standing stone ahead of them looked solid and unmoving, but she picked up her pace to match Tam’s strides.

“At least we know our theory about the Bright Court was right,” he said.

“And we don’t have to fight the queen.” Or, hopefully, ever see her again.

“Yeah. But the king could be worse.”

Jennet bit her lip. “Roy seemed ok. He wasn’t being drained of his essence or anything. This is the Bright Court, after all.”

“Remember that old book of yours?” Tam said. “Just because the Seelie faeries aren’t evil, doesn’t make them good.”

Unfortunately, she knew he was right.

Another minute of fast walking brought them to the gray bulk of the standing stone. It stood about ten feet tall, and was patched with orange lichen. A path ran from it, into the lands Thomas said belonged to the Bright Court. Jennet stepped onto the path, bracing herself for a shock that didn’t come.

“It doesn’t feel like we’ve crossed any boundary,” she said.

“No.” Tam turned in a circle. “I guess we just follow the path.”

Together, they started down it. The grassy hills in front of them looked exactly the same as the ones they had left behind.

“There’s something ahead,” she said after they’d gone a short distance. “It looks like…”

“Another standing stone.” He glanced behind them. “Or maybe the same one - since it’s not back there any more.”

They hurried up to the stone. Jennet touched it, ready to snatch her hand away if it started humming at her.

“I can’t tell,” she said. “It looks the same.”

Tam folded his arms. “Why do I get the feeling we’re going in circles?”

“Because,” a high voice piped, “you are! Oh, well riddled, Bold Tamlin.”

Jennet glanced up, to see a spritely figure sitting cross-legged on top of the stone. He was dressed in gossamer tatters, and had an impudent twinkle in his brown eyes.

“Puck!”

She couldn’t help but smile at him, despite the emptiness Thomas had left. Puck had a way of cheering her up.

Tam dropped his hand to his sword hilt. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough, Bold Tamlin.”

The sprite leaped to his feet. He made a jaunty somersault, landed on Tam’s shoulder, and tweaked his ear.

“Hey!”

Tam batted at Puck, but the sprite had jumped nimbly back to his perch atop the stone. His bell-like laughter chimed through the air.

“I give you nothing you do not deserve, knight. Now listen, listen well.” The sprite’s voice grew serious. “Do you brave adventurers desire to continue further into the realm?”

Jennet nodded, then recalled Thomas’s words. The power of names, he had said.

“We wish to reach the Bright Court,” she said. “Just so there’s no confusion.”

Tam sent her a quick glance of approval, sending warmth through her. They were such good partners in-game. Why did things have to be so much harder in real life?

“Well spoken.” Puck nodded, his spiky hair standing up in tufts. “Then I have a quest for you. Will you accept it?”

“Yes,” Tam said, stepping forward.

A basket woven of twigs appeared on Puck’s arm. He jumped off the stone, then hovered before them and held the basket out to Tam.

“The two of you must bring me a basket of berries from yonder wood.” Puck gestured to the path, which now led into a dark, piney forest. “Once you return with it, I will grant you passage to the next level.”

“All right,” Jennet said.

Tam gave a single nod, then turned and headed toward the woods. Jennet followed. When she glanced back over her shoulder, the sprite was gone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet let out a low breath as they entered the shadow of the trees. The dark evergreens rose around them, the aroma of needles filling the air like expensive incense. Low-growing purple flowers edged the path, and there were no birds calling, only the hush of wind through the pines. Shafts of sunlight pierced the forest, beams that looked nearly solid in their brightness.

“Do you see any berries?” She glanced around. There were some bushes with shiny dark leaves, a few sprays of ferns, but no obvious berries.

“It won’t be that easy,” Tam said. “This is a faerie quest, remember? We probably have to go deep into the forest, where the monsters dwell.”

“I know. I was just… hoping.”

Things were never that simple in Feyland. Every tale she’d read in her old book, every quest Feyland had given them, had a twist. There was no way to prepare. Even though she knew things would go wrong, it was always in some chaotic, unexpected way.

Still, there was a long way between not-simple and life-threatening. The further in-game they went, the more danger they would face. And whether it was from the Dark Court or the Bright, things wouldn’t be easy.

She followed Tam, the quiet of the forest giving her a moment to think. Not being able to count on Thomas had been a blow. At least Puck had shown up. No matter how Tam felt about the sprite, he had never yet done them harm, or led them astray.

Ahead, a beam of light slanted down into a small clearing, pricking bright glints of red from among the leafy plants growing there. She peered into the shadows.

“I think we found our berries,” she said.

Tam handed her the basket, then drew his sword. “You do the picking. I’ll stand guard.”

She paused at the edge of the clearing, the back of her neck tightening as she scanned for danger. The forest was still, nothing stirring in its shadowy reaches. The berries shone like crimson jewels - rubies and garnets scattered on the bushes. She plucked one. It was round and smooth under her fingers, a succulent gem of fruit. She held her breath and dropped it into the basket.

The forest remained quiet. Unchanging.

She glanced over at Tam. His armor glinted silver and his green eyes held a fierce determination.

“Keep picking,” he said, his voice low.

It didn’t take long before the basket was nearly filled. With each berry she dropped in, she kept expecting an attack, until her nerves were stretched taut. Tam seemed steady, outwardly calm, but she could see his tension in the way he gripped his sword hilt. His knees were bent, like he was ready to leap in any direction to defend her.

Another berry. Another. Her fingers trembled.

A long, screeching wail sounded through the forest, and Jennet almost dropped the basket.

“Quick,” Tam said, beckoning. “Something’s moving under the trees.”

She hurried to join him, taking care not to spill the berries, then tucked the basket between the roots of a nearby tree. If they were about to fight, she needed her hands free.

On the far side of the clearing, a figure appeared - a woman shrouded in a black cloak.

“Who picks my berries?” she said in a high, wavering voice. “Who steals my bounty?”

“We didn’t know the berries were yours,” Jennet said. Though the woman didn’t look dangerous, there was something about her that made the back of Jennet’s neck prickle with fear. “There’s no fence - they look like they’re growing wild.”

“They are mine. Mine!”

As she spoke, the bent figure began to grow taller. She moved into one of the shafts of sunlight and her cloak blew back to reveal a pale, tattered gown. Her dark hair fell about her in waves, her mouth was a red wound, and her eyes were black as a moonless night.

“What is she?” Tam whispered. He shifted into a battle stance and his shield appeared, strapped to his left arm.

The woman opened her mouth and wailed. It was the sound of bone scraping ice, the sound of death waiting nearby, honing a rusty scythe. Her cry sliced through the clearing, and Jennet flinched. Forcing her hands steady, despite the pounding of her heart, she pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow.

“Banshee,” she said.

The woman drifted toward them, her gown fluttering, and stretched out her hands. “Give me the berries, and you shall leave here unscathed.”

“I don’t think so.” Tam lifted his sword.

“Then,” the banshee screeched, “I shall take them!”

She flew directly at Jennet, her hands turning into claws. Jennet dodged back, a second too late. Wicked nails scratched her cheek, she stumbled and fell - and then Tam was between her and the creature. He slammed the banshee with his shield, forcing her away. The creature tried to dart around him, but he aimed a blow at her heart. He was forcing her to stay and fight him instead of going after Jennet.

Taking advantage of the banshee’s distraction, Jennet scrambled to her feet. She raised her bow, trying to get a clear shot. Tam stepped back, and she let an arrow fly, the twang of her bowstring buzzing the air. It was a good shot - but the arrow went right through the banshee and lodged in the tree behind her.

Jennet let a frustrated breath hiss out between her teeth. Tam was stabbing and slicing, but his sword passed harmlessly through the banshee’s body.

The creature was almost impossible to fight - but they had to do something. Jennet lowered her bow. Maybe she should cast an illusion… but what? She shook her head, trying to think as Tam battled the banshee. Nothing came to her except a sense of bone-deep weariness, as though her energy wasn’t replenished enough for that particular magic.

The banshee laughed and stretched out her clawed hands. Tam bashed her with his shield, and she staggered back a pace.

Jennet’s cheek still stung. She touched her face, then studied the thin line of blood left on her fingers. Of course! Their enemy was insubstantial now - but mist couldn’t inflict damage. In order to hurt them, she had to take on a more fleshly form.

Quickly, Jennet set her bow down and drew her dagger. It was short, but finely honed on both edges. Gripping the hilt, she moved forward, looking for her chance.

Tam was moving fluidly, blocking the banshee at every pass, but his expression was grim. No fun to fight an enemy that slid away like mist.

The banshee laughed, a sound like a deranged cat. Her face was transforming, the features of a woman becoming haggard, the slash of her mouth widening. Jennet moved closer, until she was just behind Tam.

“Here I am,” she taunted. “The berry stealer. Come get me.”

“Jennet - get back,” Tam said.

She stayed where she was, holding her breath. This had to work.

With a caterwaul, the creature sprang forward, her nasty claws swiping. Jennet raised her dagger and stabbed the banshee in the palm. Tam, quick as ever, brought his sword down, hard.

Dark blood spurted from the banshee’s severed wrist. She let out an agonized howl, so loud Jennet’s ears rang from it. The woods reverberated, throwing the screech back at them. From a far distance, black crows erupted into the sky, cawing harshly.

Cradling her injured arm, the banshee screamed once more. Then, like a nightmare, she dissolved into the air. All that remained were the tatters of her gown, and the last echoes of her wail.

A moment later, the clearing was empty. Beams of sunlight slanted down as though nothing had happened - but there was a smoking hole in the moss at Jennet’s feet, where the banshee’s blood had spattered.

Tam took her arm and pulled her to the edge of the trees.

“Washcloth,” he said. A second later, a damp cloth appeared in his hand. He brought it up to her face, dabbing lightly. “Does that hurt?”

“No. Is it bad?”

“It won’t leave a scar, if that’s what you’re asking. Make sure you disinfect it when we get out.” Unhappiness shaded his green eyes, and she could guess why.

“Tam - I had to get into the fight in order to defeat the banshee.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Look.” She grabbed his wrist. “You put yourself into danger for me all the time.”

“That’s different. I’m the Knight - it’s my job.” He met her gaze.

“We’re a team. It’s my job to contribute everything I can. Ok?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Their eyes locked, held. Her heart did a somersault and suddenly she could barely breathe.

The raucous cry of crows filled the air, their dark forms flashing overhead, and the moment was broken.

“Here.” Tam stepped back and handed her the washcloth. “Hold it against your cheek. I’ll carry the basket.”

Her throat was tight with longing. Why did he have to be so cautious?

He picked up the basket of berries. Without saying anything, they headed down the path leading out of the forest. Tam kept glancing at her, then away, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“At least we won,” she said, to break the silence.

“Yeah.”

She frowned. She hated this version of Tam - so withdrawn and self-contained.

“Are you ok?” She couldn’t help asking, though she knew she wouldn’t get any real answer from him.

“Just… thinking.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that. Her cheek stopped hurting. Jennet handed Tam the washcloth and he vanished it.

Despite the heavy silence, it seemed to take half the time to return, and soon they were in front of the standing stone.

Puck was there, swinging from what looked like precarious handholds in the rock.

“Greetings, Puck,” she said, giving him the proper quest-giver words.

“Well, well,” he said. “Fair Jennet, Bold Tamlin. You return - though not unscathed. Have you completed the quest I set you?”

“Here are your berries.” Tam thrust the basket at the sprite. “You could have warned us about the banshee.”

“Had I warned you about her, another creature would have appeared instead.” Puck took the basket, then popped a berry in his mouth. “Delicious! Did you not taste of them?”

“Are they safe?” Jennet asked.

“Where’s the fun in safe?” The sprite gave them a sly look. “Mortals are nothing but fools, denying themselves of sweetness. Here.” He held a berry out to Tam.

Tam shot a look at Jennet. They both knew it wasn’t wise to refuse the faerie’s gifts and risk angering Puck - especially when he was acting helpful. But they also knew that it was dangerous to eat or drink anything in-game. Doing so could trap a person in the Realm indefinitely. The faerie lore was pretty clear on that point.

“Take it.” There was an undercurrent of darkness in Puck’s tone.

“Alright.” Tam plucked the berry from the sprite’s palm. “Doesn’t Jennet get one, too?”

“She has no need of it,” Puck said.

Was that a good thing? She exchanged another look with Tam. Then he glanced down at the berry, his face uncertain.

“Um,” Tam said. “Can I save it for later?”

The sprite laughed. “Always so careful, Tamlin. Take care that you do not wait too long, or the fruit will wither into bitterness.”

Jennet had the uncomfortable feeling Puck was talking about more than just a berry.

“I made a promise, once,” Tam said, “not to eat or drink anything in-game.”

She let out a breath, and smiled at him. “Yes, you did.”

“Sometimes you mortals are too cautious for your own good.” Puck wrinkled his face into a scowl, then flipped into a handstand. Upside-down, it looked like he was smiling.

Tam dropped the berry back into the twig basket. “Are we done, here?”

“Indeed.” The sprite vaulted back onto his feet. “You have completed the quest, and won passage to the second circle. Prepare yourselves.”

Without thinking, Jennet reached for Tam’s hand. He was there, his clasp warm and steady. A golden glow surrounded them, and she caught one last glimpse of Puck. The sprite winked at her. Then the world spun in a vortex of glittering light, replacing the standing stone and whirling the dark forest away.

A moment later, the spinning stopped. Jennet glanced around, to see that they were again in the center of a faerie ring. This time the clearing was surrounded by majestic oak trees.

“Looks good,” Tam said. He let go of her hand and gestured. “Red mushrooms. We’re on our way to the Bright Court. Should we keep going?”

“Next time. I bet it’s getting late.”

Time could get funny, in-game, rush and flow and slip away almost unnoticeably. Dad would be coming home at some point, and she and Tam would be in serious trouble if he caught them using the Full-D systems.

“Alright then,” Tam said. “See you out there.”

His character faded, leaving Jennet alone in the clearing. She cast a glance at the path leading between the oaks. That direction lay the Bright Court, she felt it, like a compass tugging in her chest. The Bright Court - and a powerful king they would, somehow, have to defeat.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam stripped off the gaming gloves and ran his hands through his hair. A minute later, Jennet emerged from the game and removed her sim helmet. He studied her cheek, where a long red scratch marred the pale perfection of her skin.

“Don’t forget,” he said. “Disinfectant.”

“Right.” She got up and turned the jamming switch off. “HANA, let George know that Tam is about ready to go.”

“Of course, Miss Carter.”

She went to the wall and pushed a hidden button, revealing a cupboard where medical supplies were stored. It wasn’t the first time she and Tam had left Feyland with injuries. They’d found out the hard way that the damage they took in battle transferred out of the game.

He glanced toward Jennet’s hands. She’d nearly ruined them while saving his life. The only thing that made the knowledge bearable was the fact that he’d saved her first.

He couldn’t quite believe that today, the game had healed her hand. Had it carried over?

“How’s your right hand?” he asked.

She flexed it a few times, then held it up. Only a faint redness showed on her palm - in contrast to the dark burn that still marred her left hand.

“It feels good,” she said.

“Show your dad. Maybe that will convince him the game has real-world consequences.”

“I’ll try. But he’s good at explaining things away. I mean - magic? It’s hard to believe.” She swabbed her face with a disinfectant pad. “Ow - that stings.”

“Here.” Tam held out his hand. “I’ll spray the plas-skin on for you.”

She hesitated a second, then handed him the bottle. Was she that skittish at the idea of him touching her? Well, and he was just as bad - one minute wanting to kiss her, the next beating himself up for even thinking it. But at least he could help her with this.

He was close enough to smell her hair again - close enough that his faded T-shirt brushed the designer fabric of her blouse.

“Shut your eyes and hold still,” he said.

Her lashes fluttered closed, hiding her intelligent blue eyes. Her lips were so soft-looking. The pounding of his heart filled him up, until his whole body was a drum. Surely she could hear it. He put one hand under her chin, his thumb a little too close to her mouth. Moving it would just make it more obvious he was almost touching her lips. He tried to ignore the warm wash of her breath across his skin.

Puck’s teasing words echoed in his mind. Mortals are nothing but fools, denying themselves of sweetness. Take care that you do not wait too long, or the fruit will wither into bitterness. He knew exactly what the sprite had been talking about. But did he have the courage to follow through?

Forcing his other hand steady, he brought the bottle up to her face and sprayed a thin layer over her cut. The chemical odor of plas-skin masked the distracting scent of her.

She opened her eyes, and the look in them nearly stopped his breath.

“Tam,” she whispered.

Goosebumps chased across his whole body. She stared at him, then, slowly, closed her eyes again. Heart bumping crazily in his chest, Tam leaned forward.

This was it - the kiss that had haunted his sleeping, and waking, for weeks. The dream? memory? of kissing Jennet had been one of the only things that kept him sane through the long, tedious hours of recovery in the hospital.

Now.

The brush of a kiss, as light as a whisper. He barely dared more. Her lips were even softer than her hair, but warm. Warm as sunshine. Sparks flew through him. He pressed a little more, letting their mouths meld. Her arms came around him, and with a huge thump, his heart settled. It felt like floating - like an even deeper magic than the mysteries of Feyland.

“Miss Carter.” HANA’s crisp tone echoed in the little room.

Tam jumped back, feeling as if he’d just touched fire. He stared down at the carpet. Half of him felt like the worst idiot ever, but half of him was still flying. It was a giddy mix of embarrassment and elation.

“Yes?” Jennet said to the house.

“George is waiting with the car.”

“Um, ok. Great.” She cleared her throat. “Tell him Tam will meet him outside in a minute.”

“Very good. I have notified him.”

Silence fell. Tam could feel Jennet’s gaze, but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet it.

“Tam. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he raised his eyes. She didn’t seem upset, though her cheeks were pinker than usual.

“I’m sorr - ”

“Shut it.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for that kiss, Tam Linn. I’ve wanted it to happen for ages.”

He supposed he’d known. It wasn’t like he was totally oblivious to the signals. But still, she was a thousand miles above him.

“Yeah. Well - I’m still not so sure… Jennet, you could do a lot better than spoilage from the Exe.”

“You idiot.” She grabbed his hands and pulled him toward her. “Weren’t you listening, earlier? You’re the one I want.”

“I’m hardly perfect, Jennet. I mean, I know I’m a good gamer, but the rest…”

“Yes, you’re a prime gamer. Yes, you have a family that half the time is falling apart at the seams. We’re not even going to talk about the Exe. But all of those things make you who you are, Tam. As yourself, you’re flawless.”

The sincerity in her voice made him start to unravel. It was all too much. He pulled his hands free, then had to jam them in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

He wanted to kiss her, again and again. He wanted to turn and run, far away from the idea she had of him - an image of himself he was deathly afraid he couldn’t live up to.

“I… I’m not sure I can do this,” he said.

He could hand her some cheap psych-babble about how everyone he’d ever loved had ended up leaving him, or argue that their friendship was too important to screw up over a short-lived infatuation. But none of that would change the way he felt when he looked into her eyes.

Her face softened, just a little. “Just think about it, Tam. No rush.” Her mouth gave a wry twist. “After all, I’ve waited this long.”

“Alright.” His voice came out thicker than he wanted. “See you tomorrow.”

It was lame, but he really didn’t know what else to say. His thoughts were whirling, spinning sickeningly, like he’d been dropped back into Feyland.

She set her hand on his arm. “I wish you’d stop running away from me.”

“It’s not you, Jennet.” He scuffed at the carpet with his shoe. “I’m running away from me.”

Too bad there was never any escape from the person inside his own skin.

He turned and walked down the hall, feeling her eyes on him. The cameras watched his every move, no doubt monitored by hawk-eyed Marie. He trudged down the stairs, let HANA open the door for him, and went out alone into the cold gray evening.

The drive down into the Exe was quiet. George was a man comfortable with silence, and Tam was glad. He stared out the window, counting streetlights until they ran out, the bulbs shattered, the wiring torn away.

“Here we are,” the driver said, bringing the grav-car to a smooth stop in front of Tam’s place.

“Thanks.” Tam slid out of the back seat and headed for the rickety stairs running up the side of the building.

The car quietly pulled away. He could feel people watching from the boarded-up place down the street, their hostile curiosity pricking the back of his neck. Even though he lived on the outskirts of the Exe, it wasn’t safe. Next time, he needed to convince George to drop him off in regular Crestview. Being chauffeured home like this made him too conspicuous.

How long until the smoke drifters decided Tam’s family had something worth stealing? Not that they did, but confrontations like that could end badly. Really badly. He shivered and drew in a breath of rot-flavored air.

The seventh tread gave under his foot and the railing wobbled precariously as he sprinted up the last few steps. Just another reminder of how drastically things were falling apart.

He had his key-ring out and ready when he got to the front door, jingling as he undid the multiple locks. Nothing could beat old-fashioned tech. Chips and scanners could be jacked too easily, and only fools used them in the Exe.

“Tam!” his mom said as he opened the door. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

He slung off his backpack and did up the deadbolts again, then turned to greet her. She stood in their kitchen alcove, wearing a faded yellow apron and holding a spatula. Canned synthi-meat sizzled in the pan in front of her.

It was weird, having her home so much. And so cheerful. He didn’t trust it. How long until she decided her meds were ‘getting in the way of her true self’ again, and stopped taking them? The shock of him almost dying was beginning to wear off - he could see it in the corners of her eyes. There was a wildness starting there, a low-grade panic that was going to eventually boil over. Then he and the Bug would be fending for themselves. Again.

“Tam, Tam.” His little brother bounced up off the couch. “We got a present today, and you’re gonna be so sparked when you see it! The men brought it, and it’s flawless. Come on, let me show you.” He grabbed Tam’s hand and yanked him toward the door.

“Hold on, Bug.” He pulled free from his brother’s sticky grasp. “Mom. What men? What’s going on?”

“Oh Tam.” She smiled, like the sun had risen for the first time ever. “The big tech company sent some representatives over this afternoon. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He tensed. “What? VirtuMax people came here? What did they want?”

“They brought you a brand new Slix sim-system!” The Bug danced around him, all excitement. “Now I don’t have to fix the old one I broke. It’s downstairs - come on.”

Not that his little brother was getting very far with the repairs. But a new system, so Tam could play at home again…. Something deep inside him released, a tension he hadn’t realized was coiled there.

The relief was short-lived, though. Mom was still smiling at him, something expectant in her face.

“What else?” he asked.

She brought her hands together, the spatula clasped between them. “They gave us money, Tam.” Her voice was low. “Lots of money.”

His stomach clenched. “And did they ask you to sign anything?”

“It was just a formality. A little release form, a promise that we wouldn’t blame them for what happened, or say anything about it. And then they gave us thousands. Thousands.”

“In cash?”

She nodded, and he felt sick.

Damn the arrogant company, thinking they could buy their way out of trouble. Bringing cash here, to the Exe, along with a fancy new sim-system. Relying on his family’s poverty to buy their silence. He swallowed back bile. Damn him for not being here when they arrived.

“We have to give it back.” The words scraped his throat. “That’s blood money, Mom. VirtuMax knows their game almost killed me. They’re buying us off so we can’t take legal action.”

Or warn anyone about how dangerous the company’s new game really was. He wanted to kick something.

His mom’s smile wilted. “But, honey, we couldn’t do that anyway. It’s better just to take the cash.”

“We could find someone to help us. There are programs - ”

“Do you really think the Crestview prosecutor would defend us, against the biggest corporate donor in the state?” She shook her head. “It was the right choice - the only choice. You’re all better now, and we have some money to take care of things.”

“And a flawless new sim-system!” the Bug chimed in.

Tam closed his eyes, tasting lead. It was too late - Mom had signed the paperwork, taken the money. The new system was downstairs in the gutted auto-shop, probably already hooked in. There was nothing he could do except grit his teeth and accept it. He swallowed sour defeat and looked at his mom.

“We need to at least get the cash into a bank or something. It’s not safe here.” He wasn’t going to ask her the amount, not with the Bug watching, wide-eyed and big-eared.

He’d take part of the money, too, and put it in his own safekeeping. If-and-when Mom went off the rails, he and the Bug would need some insurance.

“Fire!” his little brother yelled, voice gleeful.

Mom whirled to face the kitchen, and Tam sprinted past her. He grabbed the ragged dishtowel, picked up the pan of now-flaming meat, and dumped it in the sink. The nasty smell of charred food filled the house as he doused the flames with cold water.

“Ew.” The Bug made a face. “We don’t have to eat that anyway, do we? Can we go out for burgers instead? Please?”

“All right.” Mom squeezed his shoulder, then glanced up at Tam. “Don’t be mad, honey. Things are going to work out for the best.”

Yeah. He stared at the steaming ruins of dinner in the sink. His life just got better and better all the time.

Marny caught him in the halls the next morning between second and third period.

“Hey, Tam. You look like hell.” Seemed she was back to her usual blunt self. “My uncle Zeg wants to know when you’re coming around again. There’s some new content about to release that he thinks will spark you.”

Coldness squeezed the back of Tam’s neck. He sure hoped the ‘new content’ wasn’t Feyland.

“I have a replacement system now, so I’m not sure how much I’ll be at the sim-café.”

“You do, huh?” She raised a brow. “That rich girlfriend of yours set you up with some leet gear?”

“No. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Marny rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself already, Tam. You’re not as toxic as you think.”

“Anyway.” He ignored her comment. “The equip came from VirtuMax. A ‘gift’ – strings fully attached. They did everything possible to buy my family off.”

“Whoa, really? I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. There wasn’t anything more to say about it. So far he’d avoided going down into the shop, despite his brother’s pleas. As soon as he did, he’d want to play. The new Slix would be great, he knew it - though not as good as the Full-D. Still, he’d love simming on it. And then hate himself for enjoying it.

As if an expensive bribe could make up for him nearly dying. Playing on the new system would be like forgiving VirtuMax, saying everything was fixed now. But things were still severely broken.

“Jeez.” Marny glanced down the crowded hallway. “Did I say you look bad? I take it back. She looks like hell warmed over.”

Tam followed her gaze to where Keeli, the black-haired girl from the View, leaned against the wall. She looked wan and weary, with dark circles under her eyes. As he watched, she took a breath and straightened, then moved carefully into the throng of students. The way she walked, as if she felt fragile as glass, was eerily familiar. She reminded him of… of… The thought teased Tam’s mind, but he couldn’t quite catch hold of it.

“I guess being Lassiter’s girlfriend doesn’t agree with her,” he said. The second the words were out of his mouth, alarms went off in his head.

Damn - that was it. Keeli moved the way Jennet had, back when the Dark Queen was draining her energy. Like someone breakable and exhausted. He knew the feeling, himself, and it came from one place.

Feyland.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- THE BRIGHT COURT

The corner of Jennet’s tablet lit up with a private message - from Tam. Her heart kicked, and she sent a quick glance to the front of the classroom, where the Lit teacher was droning on about poetic forms. Holding her tablet low, she opened the message.

Keep an eye on Keeli. Remind you of anyone?

Hm, that was cryptic.

She set the tablet back on her desk. Keeli shared this class with her, though she hadn’t gotten to know the other Viewer girl that well. What had Tam meant? Jennet leaned forward and glanced down the row to where the black-haired girl sat.

Wow. Keeli looked pale as milk. Her skin seemed almost translucent, and her eyes were shadowed. As Jennet watched, the girl brought a trembling hand up to her throat and swallowed.

Keeli looked like… she looked…

“Mr. Clark?” Jennet didn’t wait for the teacher to acknowledge her. “I think Keeli’s about to faint.”

“Miss Carter, you’re disrupting - ”

“Catch her!”

Jennet was out of her chair and at the other girl’s side just in time to keep her from tumbling to the floor. Geez, she was heavier than she looked.

Jennet wasn’t the only student to get there, though. Roy Lassiter crouched beside her and gathered Keeli up in his arms. A strange look, almost of regret, crossed his face.

“I’ll take her down to the nurse,” he said.

“Is she still breathing?” Jennet couldn’t tell.

“Yes.” A spark of annoyance flashed in Roy’s eyes. “Move, please.”

She backed up, and Roy got to his feet, carrying Keeli. Jennet started after him, but Mr. Clark held up his hand.

“Take your seat please, Miss Carter. I’m sure Mr. Lassiter has everything under control.”

The door closed behind Roy and his burden, and the room fell uncomfortably silent. Jennet slowly went back to her desk, feeling the prickle of everyone watching her, though it was hardly her fault Keeli had collapsed.

But was it Roy’s?

At lunch, the cafeteria was filled with the buzz of speculation. Every student had a theory about what had happened to Keeli, and the babble of voices was loud in Jennet’s ears.

“You’re late,” Marny said as Jennet set her tray down at their usual table.

Tam gave her a long, level look. His green eyes were serious. “Did you see my message?”

“Yes.” Jennet said. “I stopped by the nurse’s office - I wanted to find out how Keeli is doing.”

“And?” Tam asked.

“They took her to Central Hospital for testing.”

He leaned forward, tense. “She’s that bad?”

“She’s not in a coma, if that’s what you mean. The nurse said she’s going to be all right. They thought Keeli was dehydrated.”

“Dehydrated. Right.” His voice was flat.

Marny glanced between the two of them, her bobbed black hair swinging across her shoulders. “What are you guys saying? Did Keeli game on some flawed equip, like what happened to Tam last month?”

“Maybe,” Jennet said. “Though Keeli doesn’t sim. In fact, from what I know, she pretty much despises gaming.”

When she’d first arrived at Crestview High, Jennet had desperately needed to find a prime simmer. She’d tried the Viewers, first, with no luck. Had Keeli changed her mind, under Roy’s influence? The thought made her cold.

“We do know someone who’s been playing,” Tam said. “Roy Lassiter.”

Jennet met his gaze, seeing her suspicions mirrored in his eyes. Something, or someone, had drained Keeli’s energy to the point she had collapsed.

“Come on - you’re trying to pin this on Roy?” Marny snorted. “That’s taking the jealousy a bit far, don’t you think?”

“Hey,” said a voice behind them. “Talking about me?”

Jennet pivoted to see Roy Lassiter himself standing there. An easy smile lay on his face, but his eyes were cold.

“Hi, Roy,” Marny said, her voice suddenly all soft and gooey.

Jennet wanted to give her a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just set his tray down on the other side of Marny.

“Actually, we do,” Tam said.

“Funny.” Roy shook his head. “You crack me up, Exie. So, Marns, how’s it going?”

“Really good,” Marny said, “now that you’re here.”

Jennet nearly choked on her water. She set it down and blinked at the other girl.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Relax.” Roy turned to look at her. There was an odd glow in his eyes. “Everything’s fine. I thought it would be nice to spend a little time with Marny. She’s sturdy - just how I like my women.”

Marny giggled. Giggled! A sick feeling washed over Jennet.

“Stop it.” Tam shoved his tray away and glared at Roy. “Your girlfriend just collapsed, and now you’re putting the moves on Marny? That’s seriously flawed.”

“Piss off, Tam,” Marny said, a hint of vigor back in her voice. “You think Roy’s too good for me? Well, not everyone shares your warped social views. Just because you’re so screwed up over Jennet, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good thing.”

“Whoa.” Tam held up his hands. “This isn’t about you - it’s about him.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Marny stood up. “Come on, Roy. I’m sure we can find someplace more hospitable.”

“She’s got spirit,” Roy said, standing too. “I like that.”

He laid his arm across Marny’s shoulders, and she glowed, happiness practically rolling off her in waves.

“Wait,” Jennet said, holding out her hand. “You two can stay here.”

She didn’t want to let Roy out of her sight, and the way Marny was acting was just… wrong. The whole situation was so freaky it made her skin itch.

“I don’t think so.” Marny tossed her head. “Let’s go.”

Roy kept his arm around her as they walked away. Across the table, Tam looked as stunned as Jennet felt.

“This is grim,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“First thing, we need to get Marny away from him.” He set his hands on the table, then balled them into fists. “Keeli looked the way you did, when the Dark Queen was sucking your energy.”

She nodded. “But Keeli isn’t a sim player. Even with Roy helping her, there’s no way she could have gone that deep in-game already.”

“Maybe she didn’t have to. Remember what Thomas told us before, about how the Realm of Faerie is starting to die?”

“Yes - he said there’s not enough contact with the mortal world. You think this is the Bright Court’s solution?” She glanced to the front of the cafeteria where Roy sat with his adoring fans. And Marny.

“I do.” Tam narrowed his eyes. “Somehow Lassiter is taking people’s energy, then transferring it in-game for the faeries to feed off. He’s probably giving it directly to the Bright King.”

Cold comprehension crept down her bones. “I guess we don’t need to warn Roy about the tithe - not when he’s taking other people’s energy to pay it. I wonder how many others he’s harmed.”

“He’s not getting Marny.” Tam’s voice was hard.

“Agreed - but how do we get her away from him? She’s convinced he’s wonderful.”

He swiped a hand through his hair, then let it fall back over his eyes. “I bet that’s another thing we can thank the faeries for. Lassiter’s amazing ability to influence people. All that false charm and handsomeness.”

His words rang an echo of recognition deep inside her. Handsome looks. False charm…

“Faerie glamour!” She leaned forward. “Tam, that’s it.”

“Faerie what?”

“Glamour. It’s one of the fey magics described in my book. Here.”

She rummaged in her satchel and pulled out the green-bound copy of Tales of Folk and Faerie – the old book Thomas had given her, before he died.

It had given her the answer for how to save Tam, and she’d kept it with her ever since. She paged through, looking for the stories about faerie glamour. There, starting on page 238.

“Faerie glamour,” she said. “Confusing the senses and enchanting human perception in order to change the appearance of a thing.”

“Like making a regular-looking guy seem irresistible?”

“Exactly. Read this.” She slid the book over to Tam.

He scanned the pages, then frowned. “So what’s this ointment they talk about, that lets mortals see through the enchantment?”

“Faerie ointment. Here.” She set her finger on the opposite page and read aloud. “Wylde Thyme, Marygold Flowers, A Four-Leaved Clover, Budds from a Younge Hazelnut, and Grass of a Faerie Throne.”

“Nice. Grass of a faerie throne. Unless you know of some faerie throne sitting around in the real world, we’re going to have to go in-game for that.”

“Yes, but I think I know where I can buy most of the rest of the ingredients - the herbs and stuff, anyway.”

He lifted one brow. “Does your upscale market sell four-leaf clovers?”

“Um…”

“Don’t worry - I was kidding. I know where to find some clover, even this time of year. I can go this afternoon.”

The harsh tone of the bell cut through the cafeteria babble, signaling the end of lunch. Jennet closed the book, but something made her hesitate. Instead of tucking it back in her satchel, she slid it across the table.

“Here,” she said. “You keep this for a while. Catch up on your reading.”

“Are you sure?” He picked it up, the gilt-edged pages glinting in the light.

“Yes.” She didn’t know why, but it felt right that Tam take the book. “I’ll hit the View market today, and get what ingredients I can. The sooner we make the ointment, the better.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

The halls were crowded at the end of the school day. Still, Jennet could always find Tam, no matter how many other students were around. She hurried up to where he stood, one hand on his locker. His lips were set in a worried line, and following his gaze, she knew why. Roy Lassiter was walking down the hall, his arm draped around Marny.

“Oh, no,” she said. “You don’t think he’s going to take Marny home with him?”

“That’s exactly what I think.” He sounded grim.

“We can’t let that happen! We’ve got to keep her out of his clutches.”

She hurried after them, Tam right behind her. They caught up to the couple outside school. Roy was leading Marny over to the parking lot, where his red grav-car waited.

“Hey, Marny, hold up!” Jennet called, waving.

Marny scowled, but at least she stopped. “What do you want?”

Tam stepped forward. “I thought we could go to Zeg’s today. You know, do some gaming. All together.”

“I don’t think so, Exie,” Roy said. “You lost your chance at that, a while back. No, Marns is coming over to my place to check out my gaming systems. They’re pretty sparked. Just like me.” He winked.

Jennet drew in a quick breath. They had to do something - Marny was in peril, whether she knew it or not. Thinking fast, only one solution came to her. Too bad Tam was going to hate it.

“Sweet!” Jennet said, trying to sound excited. “I’d love to come over and game, too. Let me drop my stuff off at home, and I’ll meet up with you two at Roy’s.”

Tam shot her a glance - but what else could she do? She had to invite herself along, and cross her fingers Roy would agree.

“What about your low-level boyfriend?” Roy asked. “Leaving him in the dirt, where he belongs?”

“Tam’s not dirt,” Marny said, some of the star-struck glow fading from her eyes.

“Don’t be so literal, babe.” Roy squeezed her shoulders.

“Anyway,” Marny said, narrowing her eyes at Jennet, “You’re not invited. What is it with you, fancy-girl? You have to try and steal every guy in my life?”

Jennet forced out a laugh. “You can have Roy - believe me. But he’s asked me to come play on his systems too, right?”

She glanced at Roy. He looked amused and indulgent, as if he were used to girls fighting for his attention.

“Chill, Marns,” he said. “Jennet can come along. If she wants an excuse to ditch Exie-boy, why would I stop her?”

Tam’s face was set, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Well,” he said in a voice like stone, “you three enjoy your afternoon.”

“Oh, we will.” Roy swung Marny back toward his grav-car, then glanced over his shoulder. “Come on by anytime, Jen.”

Marny frowned, but it was clear she wasn’t going to argue with golden-boy Roy.

“Great,” Jennet called. “I’ll see you guys over there. Can hardly wait.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Tam turned to her. His green eyes sparked.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Look - it’s not like you can follow them around. One sight of you, and Roy would call View Security to throw you out. I have to go - we can’t let Marny be alone with him.”

“No way.” Tam shook his hair out of his eyes. “It’s too risky.”

“I know you don’t like it, but at least I understand what I’m dealing with. Marny has no idea.”

He regarded her a moment longer, the anger in his expression slowly fading. She was right, and he knew it.

“I hate you putting yourself in danger,” he said.

“I know, Tam. I’ll be on my guard.”

“You better.”

He stepped forward unexpectedly, and wrapped his arms around her. Surprise zinged through her. She leaned into him and returned his embrace, closing her eyes to better memorize the warmth of his body against hers. His breath brushed her temple, and she felt their pulses settle and match, their heartbeats echoing together. Time seemed to stop for a long, golden moment.

Then Tam released her, and she reluctantly stepped back.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat. “Go watch out for Marny - and yourself.”

“I will.”

“And be careful. We don’t know what Lassiter is capable of - but he’s severely dangerous.”

Tam dodged through the graffiti-etched alleys of the Exe, senses alert. He hated having to let Jennet go back into the lion’s den, alone. Given a choice, he’d like to stab that particular lion through the heart, and drag both Jennet and Marny to safety. Too bad it didn’t work that way in real life.

Jennet. Her name was a bright flame inside him. A flame he feared would suddenly blow out, leaving him in darkness. Though he knew she’d had to play along, he was bruised by the idea she was dropping him for Lassiter. She wasn’t - he knew that in his head. But Lassiter’s ugly words still ricocheted through him, sharp-edged.

He exhaled, trying not to taste the smell of rot that clung to everything in the Exe.

At least he had something to do, to dispel the anxious energy pulsing through him. Find a four-leaf clover. He’d take the Bug, too, for added distraction. Plus, the Bug could help him look - after all, the kid was closer to the ground.

Tam made it home without any trouble. When he got the locks undone and pushed the door open, he was surprised to see his mom sitting on the couch. Her face was wet with tears, and she held a faded paper photograph he’d seen hundreds of times - a picture of herself as a girl, wearing a red dress and smiling. A past that nobody could return to.

Damn. Weepiness was a sign she was heading for one of her downturns.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, closing the door and doing up the locks behind him.

“Tam - you’re home early, honey.” She tried giving him a smile, though it wobbled weakly at the corners.

“Not really. Can I make you a cup of coffee or something?”

He set his backpack down beside the roll of his sleeping bag. What he really wanted to know was if she’d taken her meds, though the answer was obvious. Anyway, she’d lie like she always did, and tell him everything was just fine.

Not for the first time, he considered doing something sneaky like grinding up her pills and putting them in her food. Except that if she was taking her mood stabilizers, a double-dose might end up making her severely tweaked.

“Oh, coffee would be nice,” she said. She surreptitiously dabbed eyes with her sleeve, then tucked the photo away.

Tam went into their tiny kitchen, put the water on to boil, then pulled down the jar of powdered coffee. His hands were steady, calm, as if they weren’t attached to the same body that was tensing with anxiety. Should he message Mom’s new state-mandated counselor? Or could the family just ride this one through, as they had so many times in the past?

He glanced over to where she sat on the couch, looking pale and a touch wild-eyed. Not too over the edge though, not yet. Ok, he’d send a message. Maybe the counselor would be able to do something.

Right, a voice inside him whispered. Like they’ve ever helped before.

“So,” he said, keeping his hands busy with mugs and spoons, “I thought I’d get Peter from school today and take him down to the park.”

“Isn’t it a little… cold for that?” She glanced out their wire-webbed window. “It’s a sweet idea, honey, but what if it snows?”

“Mom, it hasn’t snowed in Crestview for years.”

No, it just threatened to. Every winter he could remember was hard and bare, with nothing soft and white to redeem it.

“It used to snow.” Her voice went wistful. “We’d go sledding down the big hill outside of town.”

That hill was now The View, and certainly not outside town any more. But Mom didn’t need to hear either of those things - not when she was fragile like this.

The battered kettle began its creaking whistle. Tam grabbed it off the stove and fixed two cups of coffee, putting lots of sugar and creamer into her cup. He took them over to the couch and handed her the less-chipped mug, careful not to spill.

“Thanks.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Some days it’s just… I want more for you and Peter than this.”

She waved a hand, encompassing the living room with its ramshackle bookcases and piles of clothes. The only bedroom he and the Bug had ever had. He sat next to her and slid an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, Mom, it’s ok. We’re doing better than some.”

Like the squatters down the block, who half the time were so smoke-drifted they didn’t know they were half-starved and freezing. Still, that reminded him. He needed to take part of the cash VirtuMax had paid them off with - the blood money - and stick it downstairs in his own secret stash.

Especially if Mom was going unstable again. He took a long swallow of coffee, trying to dissolve the cold knot of fear in his belly.

“Shouldn’t you go, if you’re meeting Peter?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze.

Rising, he gulped the rest of his coffee, though it was too hot. He set the mug by the sink, then pulled on his coat. More threads hung down inside, where the lining was coming off, but for now the coat was hanging together. Sort of like his life.

He paused with the door open. “We’ll be home around dark.”

“Take care of your brother. I love you, honey.”

“Me too,” he said.

The door thudded closed behind him, the keys cold in his hand. The old, familiar worry clenched through him. When he came home, would Mom still be there?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet made herself hurry to Roy’s after George drove her home. She hummed along on her g-board over the empty streets, leaning forward to increase her speed until she arrived at Lassiter Palace. Her skin chilled from the winter air, she tucked her cold hands in her pockets and waited for the house to let her in.

The door slid open. Roy stood in the entryway, but she couldn’t see Marny. Fear snagged in her throat. Was her friend all right?

“Hey,” he said. “You made good time over here. Couldn’t wait to see me, hm?”

She stepped into the house and propped her g-board by the door. “Where’s Mar - ”

“You came over.” Marny said, appearing in a nearby doorway. “Can’t you give it a rest?”

“Nice to see you too, Marny.” She actually meant it, though the other girl wouldn’t take it that way.

Roy smiled. “You two are cute. Come on in and have something to drink. House,” he raised his voice, “three mochas in the sitting room.”

“Right away, sir,” the network said in its tinny tones.

Jennet saw Marny looking around, locating the speakers and cameras tucked up in the corners. It must seem weird to her. On second thought, it was kind of strange, living in a house that tracked your every move.

Marny lifted her hand and fingered the guest pass clipped to her shirt. Did she feel as out-of-place here as Tam had the first time he’d come up to The View - or did Roy’s glamour smooth over her reactions?

“Come along, ladies,” Roy said, waving them forward.

“Fine,” Marny said. She pivoted and stalked back down the hall.

After a second, Jennet followed. She could feel Roy right behind her. This was so awkward - but who knew what he would do to Marny, if she wasn’t there?

The sitting room was all done up in blue velvet, like some prince’s antechamber. Which it probably was - at least in Roy’s mind. Jennet wanted to take one of the chairs clustered around the low, ornate table, but instead she sat on the couch next to Marny. Now there wouldn’t be enough room for Roy.

Marny made a face and leaned away, but at least she stayed on the couch. Ignoring their little interplay, Roy went to the wall and slid aside a panel. He returned carrying a tray with three gold-rimmed china mugs on it.

“Don’t you have staff?” Jennet asked.

She had finally figured out what made the Lassiter’s so eerie. It seemed empty of life. Even this plush room had an air of disused silence.

“Yeah,” Roy said, “but not, you know, in-your-face maids. Though I guess some people like that kind of overdone service.” There was a mocking twist to his words.

“At least I talk to more than just my house when I’m at home,” she said.

There was Marie, and George, and the chef, and a couple of maids named Tish and Trixie. Whom, she had to admit, she mixed up about half the time. Of course, they had only been hired a few months ago, whereas the house manager and chauffeur had been on staff for years.

“You Viewers are like aliens,” Marny said. “There’s an extreme unreality effect up here. Maybe it’s in the air or something.”

“Or the water.” Roy gave her a sly look. “How do you like your mocha?”

Marny rolled her eyes and took a big sip. Then she smiled - the first genuine smile Jennet had seen on her face since she’d gone off with Roy at lunch.

“That’s seriously delicious,” Marny said, “but don’t expect me to believe there’s any water in it.”

“Probably not.” Roy lifted his own mug and downed his drink in four long swallows. “Finish up, and we can get to some gaming.”

Jennet wrapped her hands around her mocha, letting it warm her fingers. The beverage was delicious, but she was wary of it all the same. She took a small sip, then set her mug aside.

“Mind if I bring this with me?” Marny asked. “It’s too good to waste.” She cast a scornful look at Jennet.

“I thought you didn’t sim,” Jennet said. She’d seen Marny play other games though, and the girl was good.

“I don’t.”

“Yet,” Roy grinned at Marny. “I have this amazing game you have to see. You’ll love it. I’ll show you everything you need to know.”

Obviously Roy wanted to get Marny into Feyland. Jennet let out quiet breath, glad that she’d trusted her instincts and forced herself to come along. The thought of the other girl in Feyland, at Roy’s mercy, made her shudder.

An odd expression crossed Marny’s face - half pleasure, half fear. It was like her essential nature was trying to fight Roy’s glamour. She was strong-willed, but that wouldn’t be enough to save her.

“Jennet, you want to play Feyland again, right?” Roy rose and smiled his toothy grin at her.

“It was interesting,” she said, “but can’t we play something else this time?”

His smile dimmed. “If you don’t want to go into Feyland, you can always go home.”

“Oh, I’ll come.” She swallowed. “I just thought, maybe a change…”

Marny let out an impatient huff. “Are you two done? Let’s go.”

Roy held out his arm to her, in a move that looked more calculated than courtly. “My lady,” he said, “the theater awaits.”

Marny let him escort her down the hall, carrying her mug in her free hand. Jennet trailed after them. Short of breaking the sim equipment, she couldn’t stop this proposed jaunt into Feyland - which meant she needed to think strategy.

Should she make a Knight? What kind of character would Marny create to go in-game? Would Roy try anything tricky, or was Jennet’s presence enough to keep him in line?

When they stepped into the theater, Marny halted. She glanced from side to side, her eyebrows raised.

“This is… big,” she said. “You Viewers sure like your expensive toys.”

“A lot of it is VirtuMax prototypes,” Roy said. “You know - nothing you’d actually be able to buy.”

“Right.” Marny sipped her mocha again. “Nothing but hand-me downs. So sad. Well, why don’t you show me your pathetic sim-systems.”

Jennet stifled a laugh. Either Roy’s glamour was starting to slip, or nothing could keep the real Marny down.

Roy frowned and strode over to the partitioned-off area. He waved his hand, and the frosted glass panels slid open. The three Full-D systems shone in the soft illumination. Beside her, Jennet heard Marny draw in a breath.

“The throne room, huh?” Marny said. Somehow she didn’t sound quite so sarcastic.

“Come on in,” Roy said. “We’ll get you geared up.”

“Actually…” She took a step back. “Just looking is fine by me. I’m more of a screenie, myself. You know - playing without being enclosed in all that equipment.”

She gave a little shudder, and suspicion bloomed through Jennet. Was Marny claustrophobic? That would explain her distaste for simming.

Roy set his hand on Marny’s arm. “It’s perfectly safe. You’ll have fun, I promise. Nothing to worry about.”

There was a crooning, hypnotic edge to his voice. Even Jennet took a step toward the Full-D systems, and she wasn’t the focus of Roy’s charm. She shook herself and made her voice sharp.

“Hey, Marny doesn’t feel like simming. Don’t make her.”

“It’s ok,” the other girl said. “I guess I do want to.”

Jennet put her hand on Marny’s shoulder. “Really. You don’t have to sim. There are lots of other games here.”

Without a word, Marny shrugged off her touch and moved toward the sim-systems. Roy gave her a triumphant smile.

“Sit here,” he said, patting the Full-D on the right. “I’ll help you gear up.”

Marny nodded, and Jennet wanted to scream.

“Marny.” She leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “Remember what happened to Tam? Going into Feyland isn’t a good idea. Let’s go play a screen game.”

“I want to play Feyland,” Marny said, though the words had almost no inflection.

“I know you do,” Roy said.

He helped Marny settle into the sim chair and pull on the gloves. Jennet caught a glimpse of her face - pale and set - before he lowered the helmet onto her head.

“Stop it,” Jennet said. “She doesn’t want to do this.”

“You’re getting annoying, Jen.” He looked at her, and something in his eyes flared. “If you don’t want to game with us, go do something else. Like you said, there are plenty of other options.”

“Fine. I’ll play.”

There was no winning this one. She snatched up the gloves for the Full-D system in the middle. She couldn’t let Marny go into Feyland alone with Roy.

“What do I do now?” Marny asked, a slight tremble in her voice.

“Choose the F icon, then make a character,” Roy said. “You’d be a good healer-type. Just stand in the back and let me handle the fights, then fix me up afterward.”

Marny made a noise in the back of her throat. It didn’t sound like agreement. Maybe a healing priest wasn’t going to be showing up in the faerie ring, after all. Maybe Marny could still fight the glamour, in her own way.

At least, Jennet hoped so.

CHAPTER NINETEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

The Bug came running up to Tam, where he stood waiting in the school yard after last bell. His brother’s eyes were bright under the shapeless knit hat he insisted on wearing every day. At least the thing was colorful - a garish mismatch of rainbow stripes.

“Tam! What’re we doing?”

“Give me your backpack. I’m taking you to the park.”

“Prime! Can we get ice cream?”

“Yeah.” Good thing he’d brought some money. He smiled and slung his brother’s pack up on one shoulder. “Though why you’d want ice cream on a day like today…”

“’Cause if we have something cold, then it will snow,” the Bug said, with the perfect logic of an eight-year-old.

The Bug tilted his face up to the sky, giving the dirty, low-hanging clouds careful consideration. His hat started slipping, and he clutched it to the back of his head.

“Maybe,” Tam said. “But if it snows, our quest will be harder.”

“Quest?” His brother gave him a wary look. “Do we have to go camp out in the Exe again?”

“No.” Hopefully, never again. “We’re on a special mission to find a magical plant.”

“A magic plant? Will Puck help us?”

Tam’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “Uh, you haven’t mentioned Puck to anyone else, have you?”

The last thing they needed was his brother in psych eval for believing in faeries. Even if they were real. He’d given up trying to talk the Bug into thinking his glimpse of Puck had just been a dream.

“Course not,” the Bug said. “Who’d believe me?”

The kid was pretty insightful. Or cynical. For a fleeting moment, Tam wished his brother didn’t have to grow up this way.

A flash of muddy orange caught his eye - the drab color Crestview had chosen for its public transportation. Probably the paint had been on sale.

“There’s the downtown bus,” he said. “Race you!”

The Bug took off, laughing, and they made it to the stop right on time. During the long ride down to the park, Tam listened to his brother prattle on about school with half his attention. The other half picked at the tangles in his life - Jennet, faerie ointment, Lassiter, Marny’s infatuation. The possibility that Mom wasn’t fixed, after all.

The one good thing was that he was feeling better, at least physically. The lingering effects of being in a coma seemed pretty much gone. Had going back in-game helped with that? It made sense, in a weird, backwards kind of way.

“Can I pull it, Tam?” his brother asked.

Tam looked up, to see the silhouette of bare branches outside. They were at the park.

“Sure,” he said, and the Bug knelt up on the seat and yanked the wire, signaling their stop.

As soon as they were out on the mostly-brown grass, his little brother started dancing around. Damn, the kid had too much energy.

“What does it look like, the magic plant?” the Bug asked. “Is it bright purple? Will it shock me when I touch it? Where is it?”

“Over this way - but its magic is a secret. You have to look closely in order to see it.”

“Oh.” The Bug frowned. “I thought it would be, like, magical. Floating in the air or all lit up.”

Time for a bribe. “We’ll look for a little while, then get an ice cream, ok?”

His brother brightened right up, and didn’t even complain when they got to the scrubby clover patch and started searching.

“Is this it?” the Bug asked after a minute. He held up a limp clover in one grubby hand.

Tam leaned closer, his heart rushing with quick hope. Could it be that easy? The anticipation died as he inspected his brother’s find.

“No - that one has three leaves.”

“It does not! There’s four, right there.”

“Peter. Tearing one of the leaves in half does not make it a four-leaf clover. Keep looking.”

“This is boring.” His brother folded his arms and plopped himself down, right in the middle of the patch.

“Hey, you’re squishing them. Get off.”

“I want my treat.”

“We’re going to try one more place, ok? And then you can have ice cream - as soon as we find one.”

The Bug gave him a transparently calculating look. “If I find one, can I get two ice creams?”

“Maybe - but it has to be a real four-leaf clover. No faking.”

“Ok! Let’s go now.” His brother stood up and took off across the flat, brown grass.

“Hey,” Tam called, “go over by the fountain.”

The Bug veered in that direction, and Tam broke into a jog to keep up. Hopefully the kid would tire out enough to settle down and be helpful.

When they got to the fountain, his brother made a disappointed noise. “They turned the water off. Why’d they do that?”

“Probably because it’s getting too cold. Fountains don’t like the winter.”

Tam squinted up at the sky. The clouds were thicker, and there was a definite bite in the air. The sun was a pale disc somewhere behind all that smudge. He pulled the Bug’s hat down over his ears, then led his brother to the leafless trees.

Last summer he’d come here, when Mom was around to look after the Bug. He’d lie in the shade and work out game strategies, or read on his battered tablet - chewing clover stems for the bite and sweetness. The patch was smaller, and shriveled, but this was the last, best option.

Without prompting, his brother squatted and began running his fingers over the cold plants. Tam hunkered down beside him. He was going to be dreaming of small green leaves all night, he just knew it. In silence, the two of them worked over about half of the patch. Tam bottled his mounting anxiety. There was a four-leaf clover here, somewhere. There had to be.

“Look!” the Bug cried, pointing to a spot in front of him.

“Did you find one?” Tam’s breath caught, and he crawled over.

“No, it’s snowing! Really it is - the ice cream plan worked!”

Tam followed his brother’s finger, to see a white speck on top of a clover. A clover that… no way. Holding his breath, he leaned over and counted the leaves. One, two, three. Four. Yes!

Keeping his eyes fixed on it, he carefully snapped the stem - then held the clover up and counted again, just to make sure.

“Hey, you ruined my snowflake,” the Bug said.

Tam laughed. Trust his little brother to see the first tiny snowflake, but totally miss that it landed on the four-leaf clover they’d been searching for.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I saw it. Double ice cream will be yours.”

The Bug spread his arms out and whirled around, full of snowy ice cream joy. Bits of white flecked his colorful hat. Still smiling, Tam pulled a crumpled plastic bag out of his pocket and carefully tucked the clover inside.

Quest complete.

The dizzying, golden light of Feyland enfolded Jennet. As soon as it cleared, she glanced around. Red-speckled mushrooms - check. She drew in a breath of relief. Around her towered the dark pines she remembered from reaching the second level of the game, last time she played with Roy.

His character appeared beside her, and she blinked, shocked once again at how good-looking he was in-game.

“Hey, foxy lady,” he said, then laughed. “Get it? Your character is - ”

“Yeah. I get it.” She had half a mind to put an arrow through him. “Marny, can you hear us?”

“Of course I can.” Her voice came clearly through the helmet speakers, even though she wasn’t in-game yet.

“Need me to explain the interface again?” Roy asked. “What you want to do is select Healer from the list of various classes, and then - ”

“I got it.” Marny sounded annoyed.

Maybe playing Feyland with Roy was a good idea, after all. Would his hold over Marny be less strong inside Feyland? Jennet would have to watch and see.

“So, we’re not in the starting area again?” she asked. “I thought that with a brand-new character, we’d need to go in from the beginning.”

“I’ve played Feyland long enough to know some shortcuts.” Roy winked at her. “Don’t worry - there’s nothing in here I can’t handle.”

There might not be any monsters the size of his ego, that was for sure. But she bet the game had some nasty surprises waiting for them.

“What’s the hold-up, Marns?” he called. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah - just a second.”

Roy hopped out of the faerie ring, then drew his two-handed sword and went through some moves - sidestepping imaginary opponents and cutting wide swaths through the air. Probably trying to look good for Marny, as soon as her character materialized. Jennet rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like their avatars needed to warm up before battle.

On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to look over her own gear.

She was checking her arrows when Marny’s avatar appeared in the ring. She was clad all in black, with a headband cinching back her dark hair. She had a set of long, slim blades, one on each hip, and there was a dagger sheathed in her boot. A wicked-looking morning star mace hung from her belt, and she probably had hidden knives strapped to her arms. She looked big - and deadly.

Jennet smiled. Oh yeah - so much for Roy’s ‘you should be a healer’ suggestions.

“What are you?” Marny asked, looking her over. “One of those fox things?”

“Kitsune,” Jennet said. Maybe she’d try turning into a fox for real, this time, depending on what the game threw at them.

“Whoa.” Roy sheathed his sword, then gave Marny a disbelieving look. “Why didn’t you roll a healer? You are a noob, aren’t you? Assassin classes are one of the hardest - ”

“Shut it, Roy,” Marny said. Then she vanished.

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE BRIGHT COURT

“Hey!” Roy jumped back into the mushroom-bounded ring. “Come on, Marny, show yourself. This isn’t the time to be messing around. Marns?”

Jennet took a couple steps away, giving the other girl room. Maybe it was her fox-senses, but she had a vague impression of where Marny was, despite her invisibility. Oh, this was seriously good. Roy was about to be taken down a peg - and she didn’t know anyone who deserved it more.

“Looking for me?” Marny asked, suddenly visible again.

She had ghosted around behind Roy, and had one of her blades across his throat.

“Alright, alright. Careful with that!” Roy sounded a little panicked, and she couldn’t blame him.

Marny didn’t know that in-game injuries carried over to the real world. A slice from her dagger could have serious consequences.

“Never underestimate a rogue,” Marny said. She stepped back and sheathed her blade.

Roy swallowed. “Ok, point taken. Just - watch your step in here. This is a complicated game.”

Ha. Marny was a rogue in every sense. It was clear she made her own rules. Who knew what she’d do to disrupt the world of Feyland? Or what it would do to her, in return? Jennet was glad to be along, whatever happened.

If she and Tam and Marny went in-game together at some point… now that would be prime. She could just imagine the possibilities. Of course, neither she nor Tam had the ability to force Marny into simming. Somehow, she didn’t think there would be many repeats of this afternoon’s venture.

“Ok, ladies. Follow me.” Roy’s cocky assurance had returned. He jumped out of the faerie-ring and started down the path winding between the dark pines. His bright hair shone like polished copper.

“Hey.” Jennet touched Marny’s shoulder. “Nice job. You really got the hang of that character right away.”

“I hate being told who to be,” Marny said. “That’s what took me so long. I had to study the invisibility talent until I really understood it, you know?”

“I’d say you did.” Jennet grinned. “The look on Roy’s face was priceless.”

“Good.” Marny glanced up the path. “He’s kind of a jerk, in-game.”

And out. Jennet bit her tongue. If she and Tam could make the ointment, Marny would see that soon enough.

“By the way,” Jennet said, “Roy doesn’t know how much Tam and I played Feyland. So if you could, um, not mention it, that would be good.”

Marny raised an eyebrow, but she nodded. “All right. But some day soon you’re going to have to spill your secrets, fancy-girl.”

That was becoming clear. Marny was involved in the magic of Feyland now, whether she knew it or not.

“I will,” Jennet said. “I promise.”

The air shimmered at her words, like a far-distant bell had been rung. The vibrations lapped the air around them, making invisible ripples.

“What was that?” Marny asked.

“The sign of a true pledge.” Jennet swallowed. She hadn’t anticipated that. “Unexpected things have power here. Words. Blades.”

The other girl narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She was smart. It wouldn’t take her long to realize there was something skewed about Feyland.

“In fact…” Jennet lowered her voice. “It sounds crazy, but if you get hurt in-game, the injury carries over into the real world. So be extra careful.”

Marny’s eyes widened, but she nodded.

“What’s taking you two so long?” Roy called. “Come on!”

Jennet leaped over the red-speckled mushrooms and headed down the path, with Marny right behind her. Overhead, the wind sighed in the branches of the pines, then tickled her cheek with cool strands of breeze.

The trees were thinning out by the time they caught up to Roy, who was waiting for them by the edge of the forest. The path widened to a dusty road leading into a village - a collection of buildings with multi-paned windows and thatched roofs.

“Grendel Village,” he said. “Lots of quest possibilities here, but I want to show Marns some excitement. Follow me.”

The three of them strode into the village. There were a fair number of human-looking NPCs around - kids running and laughing, an old woman working her garden, and groups of citizens standing and talking. They looked serious, and Jennet could guess where this particular set-up was going to lead.

In the center of the village was a paved square, with a few carts selling vegetables and a crowd of people milling around. As she, Roy, and Marny arrived, a man in a blue coat stepped up onto a makeshift stage. He banged a stick on a large pan to get people’s attention, and the computer-controlled characters around them quieted.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” the man announced. “As you know, the vile creature that has been threatening our village is growing bolder. The council will reward anyone brave enough to fight this monster and defeat it.”

“How much?” someone called.

“Fifty gold pieces!”

The crowd burst into excited babbles.

“Quiet!” The man clanged his pan again. “Who is bold enough to accept this offer?”

A sudden hush covered the square, as if someone had thrown a sodden blanket over the gathering. Everyone stilled, not quite meeting one another’s eyes.

“That’s our cue,” Roy said.

He strode to the platform and leapt up beside the blue-coated man, then beckoned for Jennet and Marny to join him. When Jennet stepped up onto the stage, she caught a glimpse of a blackened, smoking field at the village’s edge. What were they getting into here?

“We accept the challenge,” Roy said.

“Royal one,” the man said with a slight bow. “We are honored by your presence. You bring the Lady Jennet, and… another companion to aid you on your quest.”

“This is Lady Mar - ”

“Just Marny,” the big girl said. “I don’t need a fancy title, like some people.”

“Whatever.” Roy turned back to the quest-giver. “Where shall we find this monster?”

“By yonder lakeshore.” The man waved to where the road led out of the village.

Jennet squinted in that direction. She could make out a silvery sheen that might be water. Not too far, then.

“If you prove victorious,” the man continued, “return here with the creature’s head, that we may know your quest is complete and the village saved. Then we shall bestow upon you our thanks.”

“And the reward,” Roy said.

“Indeed. Good luck, bold adventurers!”

The crowd cheered as the three of them stepped off the platform and headed out of the square. Nobody followed, however. Roy set a quick pace, and it didn’t take long for them to leave the last thatched cottage behind.

“So,” Jennet said. “What kind of creature are we facing here?”

“Depends,” Roy said. “But don’t worry. Whatever it is, I can take care of it.”

“Depends on what?” Marny came up on Roy’s other side, the three of them striding abreast down the road.

“I think fire is involved,” Jennet said. “Look at that field over there. Scorched.”

Roy nodded. “When I’ve soloed this quest, it’s mostly been a big wolf, and once a troll. But now that there’s three of us, it’s going to be something more… complex.”

“Do we have anything that can repel flames?” she asked.

For a second, she wished she were playing her mage. She could probably have figured out some kind of magical protection. Somehow, she didn’t think an illusory shield would do much against real fire.

“We’ll just have to rush it, whatever it is.” Roy said.

“Nice strategy,” Marny said. “Glad to be in here with such ‘leet players.”

Roy shot her a look. “Relax. I told you - I can protect you from anything Feyland throws at us.”

“Heh.” Marny shook her head. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

They were at the lakeshore sooner than Jennet wanted. Silvery waves lapped the bank and the sun sparkled on the water. It looked deceptively peaceful - until she caught sight of the swath of blackened grass on the right-hand side of the lake.

“Look.” She pointed to the scorched area. “I’d say that’s our direction.”

Roy shaded his eyes with one hand. “I think there’s a cave in the rocks over there.”

“Typical,” Marny said. “Of course all scary monsters lurk in caves.”

“Well, it could also come up out of the water,” Jennet said.

She eyed the lake, making sure to keep well back from the shore. She’d had more than enough encounters with nasty water creatures in Feyland.

“It’s not in the lake if fire is one of its weapons,” Roy said. “Ok, here’s the plan. We’ll sneak up to the cave, then I’ll lure it out. Marny, you’ll want to go invisible. Jennet, stay back and use your arrows. Quiet, now.”

She shared a quick, exasperated glance with Marny. Roy was the master of stating the obvious as though it were some brilliance on his part.

Slowly, the three of them moved around the lake, skirting the dead grass. An acrid smell rose from the scorched earth, and Jennet swallowed hard, trying not to cough. Marny drew a black kerchief up over her nose and mouth, which made her look even stealthier.

Roy was right - there was a cave in the tumble of rocks, an opening that grew larger the closer they got. Finally they were within a stone’s throw of the place. It stank - a foul mix of burnt grass combined with something rotten. Jennet drew shallow breaths through her mouth, trying not to taste the oily residue.

Roy signaled them to stay where they were, then drew his sword. It made a faint hissing sound as it left the scabbard. A heartbeat later, Marny disappeared. Time to find cover. Jennet sidled over to a nearby outcropping of stone. Whatever was about to emerge from that cave, she didn’t want to be in its direct line of sight.

“Hey!” Roy shouted. “Come out and meet your death!”

A little theatrical, but then, that was Roy.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then something stirred in the back of the cave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

A flicker of heat lit the inside of the cave. Jennet saw something outlined in the orange afterglow - something big, with wings and talons and horns. She felt air stir as the creature drew in a breath. Heat tingled through her, a premonition…

“Roy,” she cried, “look out!”

A huge gout of flame exploded from the darkness. Roy leapt out of the way, spinning nimbly to the edge of the entrance while a stream of red fire poured past. The instant the fire ended, the creature appeared.

It was fifteen feet tall, and covered in brownish-yellow fur. Bat-like wings rose from its back, but the worst thing about it was its two heads. Jennet shivered. The left head was a lion with curved horns, smoke still curling around its wicked teeth. Beside it was an evil-looking goat head, green spittle dripping from its mouth. Great - fire and poison, and aerial abilities on top of that.

Jennet nocked an arrow. Things were about to get way ugly.

“Over here,” Roy shouted.

He swung at the creature’s foreleg, slicing a red gash through the fur. It screeched and, with a mighty flap, rose into the air. The goat-head veered around, spraying vile green mist through the air. Roy ducked back into the cave, and Jennet bit her lip. Hopefully Marny would stay clear of the poison.

Breathing slowly to keep her hands steady, Jennet sighted on the creature. It was hovering, obviously searching for Roy, its wings sending drafts of dust back and forth. She aimed at the leathery juncture of one wing.

The arrow flew true, burying itself in the creature’s body. The monster cried out and landed, then turned on Jennet, quick as a striking snake. She stumbled back and saw it draw another deep breath.

Fear sizzled down her bones. There was no way she could run fast enough to escape the flames building between the lion-head’s jaws. This was it. She’d finally find out what happened when her character died in-game - and she had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a good experience. In fact, it might be truly lethal.

Her skin burned, her bones shrieked, and her eyes blurred - but the creature was still drawing in its breath. She wasn’t on fire.

What? Her view was oddly flattened, the colors washed out while the details of the ground before her grew razor-sharp. Moving on instinct, she dashed forward, her paws placed unerringly to give her the burst of speed she so desperately needed. Heat scorched her tail and she yelped, but kept running until she was directly beneath the hovering monster. Safe, for the moment.

She panted, her tongue lolling out from between her teeth, but she continued circling, staying under the creature’s belly. Out of reach - for now.

Behind the creature, Marny materialized. She swung her morning-star, bashing the creature’s leg and distracting it from Jennet. The beast howled out of both its mouths and spun, wickedly fast - but Marny had already somersaulted out of the way. An eye-blink later, she’d disappeared again.

“Over here!” Roy yelled, waving his sword as he darted out of the cave.

The goat-head spit at him, but he moved faster. This time he took a clue from her, and ran right at the creature, sword raised. The tip of it cut a bleeding line in the monster’s chest. With another screech of pain, it flapped into the air again.

“Come on,” Roy said. “Into the cave. We need to get the chimera back on the ground.”

She gave a yip of agreement, and the two of them dashed for the cave mouth. Fire scored a dark line at their heels, but they made it. In the deeper shadows, Roy took a long breath.

“It’s coming down,” he said. “Can you turn back into a girl now?”

Was she a girl? She couldn’t quite remember.

“Jennet? Hurry. You can’t fight in that form.”

Girl. Jennet. Concentrate.

Pain seized her. She doubled-over, clutching her belly, while tears streamed down her face. But she was human again.

“That… was severe,” she managed.

“Not as severe as getting torched by a chimera,” Roy said. “Get ready to run again.”

She took a deep breath and squinted out into the light. The monster was folding its wings, malice in its two sets of eyes.

Suddenly, in a flurry of black cloth, Marny was on its back. She slung the chain of her mace around the goat-head’s neck and pulled tight. The lion-head roared, but it couldn’t flame her without scorching itself.

Jennet reached for her bow, glad to find that her weapons stayed with her during the transformations. Pulling her bow off her back, she fitted another arrow to the string and aimed for one of the lion’s evil yellow eyes.

She released the shot - and missed. The arrow clattered uselessly against the rocks.

Roy sprinted forward and swiped at the chimera’s leg as it bucked and lunged, trying to dislodge Marny. She was hanging on, her face grimly determined, her chain still wrapped around the goat’s head. Green froth bubbled from the creature’s lips, and a few drops landed on Marny’s arm. Jennet saw her wince, but she didn’t let go.

Roy made another pass, this time leaping up at the lion’s head and scoring a cut along its jaw. Embers glowed deep in its throat.

Last chance. Jennet notched another arrow and pulled the bow back until it creaked from the strain. This time, the arrow flew straight and true, entering the lion’s right eye with a nasty squelch.

The monster shrieked, a horrible sound like metal and glass crashing together. Flames flickered between its teeth, then died. The goat-head gave a final thrash, and the chimera collapsed. Its leathery wings folded in, the body shuddered, and then it was over.

Marny slowly unwound her chain and clambered down from the creature. Her hair had come loose and was hanging around her face. There were five red blisters the size of coins on her forearm - souvenirs of the chimera’s poison.

“Hey,” Roy said. “Nice job, there.”

Jennet nodded. They couldn’t have won this without the three of them working together.

“I hate sim games,” Marny said. “This one’s worse than most. Can we log off now?”

“Almost,” Roy said. “Have to complete the quest, or the whole level will reset and we’ll be back at the beginning again. I don’t know about you two, but I’d rather not have to repeat this fight.”

He turned, and with two swift strokes detached the chimera’s heads from its body. There was no blood, though the eyes remained open, glassy and staring.

Marny took a step away. “I’m not carrying either of those. I had my up-close time already.”

“I’ll take the goat,” Jennet said.

Luckily, it wasn’t too heavy, despite its size. Nothing like game mechanics to skew physics. She held it by one horn, making sure to keep the mouth away from her body. Even though the chimera was dead, the poison could still be active.

When they reached the road, they were met by a throng of cheering villagers.

“Brave heroes!” the blue-coated man said. “You have slain the evil beast. Now receive your reward.”

Roy set the lion-head down, and Jennet carefully lowered her own burden to the ground. The villagers could take it from there. A pace behind them, Marny folded her arms and watched.

“Fifty gold pieces.” The headman pulled out a bag and handed it to Roy. “And now, prepare for the next stage of your adventure.”

Roy stepped back beside Marny. “He’s going to transport us to the third level of the game,” he murmured. “Hold on.”

“We’re ready,” Jennet said, falling back to Marny’s other side.

The man raised his hands. “Farewell, bold adventurers!”

Golden light swirled around their feet, rising in a cone until it blocked out the headman and villagers, the severed heads, the sparkling lake - everything. Jennet set her hand on Marny’s shoulder as the usual wave of dizziness hit her. It was like being tumbled in space - no sense of down or up, only the whirling glow and a faint, high humming.

Jennet’s feet hit the ground, and she swallowed back her discomfort. The three of them stood in the center of a faerie ring. But instead of the Dark Court’s moon-pale mushrooms or the familiar red and white ones, this ring was formed of thin-stalked mushrooms that shed an eerie, purplish glow.

A chill gripped the back of Jennet’s neck and shivered into her body.

“Come on, guys,” Marny said. “Where’s the escape button?”

“Relax, Marns,” Roy said, though his voice was tight. “We’re leaving Feyland. Right… now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet pulled off the sim helmet, and took a deep breath. That had been even freakier than usual. She thought Roy was off-balance, too, not that he would ever admit it.

“Ok, I’m done,” Marny said, slapping her e-gloves down across the leather seat. She had gotten her gear off in record time, and now stood beside the sim-system, looking as if she’d eaten something nasty. “If I play with you again, it’ll be a screen game.”

“You didn’t like Feyland?” Roy asked. Master of the obvious.

She shook her head vigorously. “I hate having to gear up. And I really hate being pulled into a game like that - one where you can’t just put the controls down and walk away.”

“Next time, it will be fun. I promise.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Marny turned away from the sim-systems, and winced. “Ow. Do you have some kind of poisonous bugs in here, Roy?”

She pushed her sleeve up and looked at her arm.

“Let me see.” Roy hopped out of his sim chair then froze for a half-second.

Jennet sidled over. When she saw what they were looking at, her breath caught. There were five red marks on Marny’s skin - blisters from the chimera’s poison.

“Uh. Oh, those.” Roy’s voice had a sudden, scared edge. He gripped the side of the sim chair, so hard his knuckles were white.

Was he worried about Marny making the connection, or had he never seen an injury carry over from the game? Jennet bit her lip and studied him. That flash of fear across his face - she guessed he’d never been hurt in-game, whether through luck, or the Bright King’s protection. Which made sense, when she considered his insistence about how safe Feyland was.

“They kind of burn,” Marny said, raising her arm.

“Right - they burn.” Roy relaxed a fraction, and that spooky glow started in his eyes. “That’s because you spilled your mocha on yourself earlier. Don’t you remember?”

“I…” Marny looked up at him. The sharpness left her expression, and her eyes were going dreamy again.

“I bumped you, Marns, and your cup sloshed,” Roy said. “Come on, we’ll get the house to spit out some meds for you, and it’ll be fine.”

“Okay, Roy,” Marny said. The adoring look was firmly back on her face.

“Stop it!” Jennet set her hands to her hips. “Tell the truth, Roy - those marks are carryover, from the game. We both know it wasn’t the mocha.”

His lips twisted into a scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. A computer game can’t affect the real world. You’re tweaked, Jennet. I’d say it’s time for you to go home.”

He strode to the glass panels and opened them with a wave of his hand. Marny just stood there, a blank look on her face.

“Come on, Marny,” Jennet said, ignoring Roy. “We need to get your arm fixed up. And then we’re both out of here.”

She’d get George to take Marny home. No way was she leaving her friend alone with Roy - not for another second.

“You like to spoil people’s fun, don’t you?” he said.

“Whatever. Where are your med supplies?”

“Follow me.” Roy pivoted and stalked down the hall.

Back in the sitting room, Jennet settled a too-quiet Marny on the couch. She could hardly wait to get her friend out of here - away from Roy’s creepy, toxic influence. The house delivered a medi-pack to the slot in the wall. Roy grabbed it and sat next to Marny.

“You’ll be fixed up in no time,” he said, dabbing plas-skin on her arm. “How’s that feel?”

“Great.” She smiled up at him.

Jennet stood behind one of the chairs, scraping her fingernails over the blue-velvet upholstery. Roy was lying to her. Could she force him to tell the truth, or was he lying to himself, too?

“Done yet?” she asked, stepping around the chair.

Marny had her eyes half-closed, as if she was falling asleep. Roy’s hands were wrapped around her bare forearm, above the blisters. His eyes were intent - and his hands were glowing.

“Hey!” Jennet rushed forward and shoved his shoulders, pushing him away from Marny.

The moment she touched him, a weird spark arced between them, like rogue static. He fell back on his elbows, letting go of Marny’s arm. Two glowing handprints were etched on her skin, fading even as Jennet watched.

“Whoa - feeling drastic?” Roy sat up and glared at her. “If you want to play nurse, just say so. Here.” He thrust the medi-pack at her.

“You were doing a lot more than that. Stay away from Marny.”

A sick shakiness rose up in her stomach. That had been the magic of Feyland - no question. Roy was harvesting people’s energy, just as she and Tam had suspected. She glanced at Marny, who still slumped against the cushions, looking half-asleep.

“Look, Roy,” she said. “Whatever the Bright King promised you, it’s not worth it. Mortals and fey magic don’t mix.” She locked eyes with him. “Admit it - you know as well as I do that the power of Feyland is real.”

He narrowed his gaze and stared back at her. Jennet wanted to punch him - but she also didn’t want to touch him again. What if any contact enabled him to do the energy-suck thing? She shivered.

“You’re one freaky girl,” he finally said, his voice flat. “I think you should leave now. And don’t bother coming back.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Marny.”

As if she’d heard her name. Marny moaned and sat up. “My head hurts.”

“Can you stand?” Jennet asked, turning to her and holding out one hand. “I’m taking you home.”

“You are?” Marny shot a confused look at Roy.

“Yes,” Jennet said. “Come on.”

Pointedly ignoring Roy, she helped Marny to her feet.

“Hey, Marns,” he said. “Go ahead and stay. We don’t need Jennet around - she was just leaving.”

“I…” Marny seemed dazed, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

Taking advantage of her confusion, Jennet linked arms with her friend and towed her to the hallway. They had to get out of there without Roy touching either of them. Almost running, she hauled Marny toward the front door. Roy stalked after them, his eyes furious. Would he think to tell the house to lock the door before they got there? Jennet’s heart pounded in her throat.

“Why the hurry?” Marny protested. “I want to talk to Roy.”

“Trust me,” Jennet said. “We have to leave. Now.”

They reached the entryway, and she scooped up her g-board, not pausing. The wide front doors swung open, as she’d hoped. Thank goodness for the Lassiter’s overprogrammed house-network.

“Go,” she said, pushing Marny out the door. “Head for the street.”

Jennet shot a look over her shoulder. Roy stood in the hall, arms folded. Maybe pursuing them was beneath him - or maybe he knew he’d be able to get Marny under his spell again, at school. Jennet swallowed back the sour taste of fear. She and Tam had to get the faerie ointment made, as soon as possible.

What then? a voice inside her whispered. Save Marny - and Roy still had the whole school to pick from, while the Bright King got stronger and stronger. How soon until he was powerful enough to reach between the realms without a human intermediary?

“We’re not done, Jennet Carter,” Roy called, his voice full of menace.

“I’m counting on it,” she said, trying to sound bold.

But inside, panic clawed at her ribs. They were running out of time, even faster than she’d expected.

She backed out the door, not wanting to take her eyes off Roy. When she got to the sidewalk, she hopped on her g-board and skimmed fast, not stopping until she reached Marny waiting by the gate.

“What is this?” Marny asked.

Jennet pressed her lips together. How much would her friend believe? She’d shoot for the truth, anyway.

“Roy was using magic on you.”

Marny gave a snort. “Right. I can’t believe I let you invite yourself along on my date - and then push me out of there before I could spend any quality time with Roy.”

She squared her shoulders, like she was going to march back into the Lassiter’s mansion.

“Wait! We had to get you out there because… of your allergy.”

Marny gave her a suspicious look. “I don’t have an allergy, fancy-girl. Though if I did, it would be to you.”

“Your arm - don’t you remember?”

If Marny didn’t believe her about Roy, she sure wouldn’t believe that her injuries came from a computer game. At least, not until the ointment had done its work.

Marny glanced down at her arm, her brows drawing together. “I thought… didn’t I burn myself?”

“On a mocha you’d mostly finished drinking? I don’t think so. Roy just told you that to make you stay. There’s something in his house that doesn’t agree with you.”

Like him.

“Come on,” Jennet continued, glancing up at the evening sky. “It’s getting late. I’ll have George drive you home.”

Too late to visit Tam - but she’d message him, ask him to meet her tomorrow before school. Reception in the Exe was spotty. She’d just have to hope her message got through.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam stood on the sidewalk in front of Crestview High, waiting for Jennet. The early-morning clouds hung low, still shadowed with the memory of night. It was cold - a dry frigidity in the air that chafed his lungs. He shivered and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He’d only waited five minutes before her sleek black grav-car pulled up. The door slid open and Jennet hopped out, looking warm in a coat lined with fur. Probably real. He hunched his shoulders against the sharp chill.

She gestured to George, slung her bag over her shoulder, and hurried over to where he stood.

“Hi, Tam.” Her words left little puffs of white in their wake. “Glad you could meet me so early.”

“Yeah, well, Mom mostly takes care of the Bug now, so…” He shrugged, hiding the fact that he’d meet Jennet anywhere, anytime. “How’d it go, yesterday? You didn’t say much in your message.”

She pressed her lips together. “It was freaky - and frightening. I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Let’s get out of the wind.”

He jerked his head toward the side of the building. It wasn’t much cover, but at least they wouldn’t be quite as exposed. This was a somewhat decent neighborhood, but a lifetime of caution had kept him alive. So far.

Once they reached the shelter of the wall, Jennet described going in-game with Roy and Marny. She told him about killing the chimera, and the blisters on Marny’s arm that had carried over to the real world.

“And then…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Then, Roy did something to Marny. Some kind of energy suck.”

“What - like he went vampire on her? Right there, with you watching?”

His throat went dry with fear. A deep, restless part of him wanted to grab Jennet and pull her into his arms. Hold her tight, keep her safe, no matter what.

“Yeah,” Jennet said, shivering. “He wrapped his hands around her arm and they started to glow. Marny slumped back with her eyes closed. It was like she wasn’t there.”

“Damn. That’s grim.” Tam turned one shoulder to the wall, blocking the worst of the wind from Jennet. “Did he do anything else? Chant or, I don’t know, say an incantation?”

“No. Just the touch. And his eyes were doing that freaky thing.”

“So - he’s pulling energy from people, just by touching them. First Keeli, now Marny. I wonder how much he needs. How much he can hold.”

“Maybe he stores it in a talisman of some kind,” Jennet said. “Like how the Dark Queen kept my energy in a glass sphere. I’ll have to go back over to his house and look.”

“No.” He reached out and caught her by the shoulder. “You’re not going to Lassiter’s, ever again.”

“Funny,” she gave him a crooked smile. “Roy said the same thing, after I accused him of using fey magic.”

“And did he admit it?”

She shook her head, the dawn light gleaming on her pale hair. “He acted as if I was insane, but he was lying. I could see it in his eyes. Tam, we have to get Marny away from him.”

“Of course. Today, we make the faerie ointment. I got the clover.” He patted his coat pocket.

“I bought the herbs and things, last night. So all we need now is grass from a faerie throne. I wonder what the Bright King’s throne looks like.”

“Me too.”

For a moment, he was caught up in memory - a clearing where grotesque and graceful figures danced around a strangely purple bonfire. On the far side stood a throne made of vines and shadows. And sitting upon that throne, the Dark Queen. Midnight stars were tangled in her black hair, her gossamer dress was made of stolen moonlight, and her fathomless eyes held secrets no mortal should know.

She smiled at him.

Tam’s breath left his lungs - but who needed breath when she was there? Shadowy promises brushed through him, tingling his senses, bright, winged sparks that flashed by like shooting stars.

“Tam?” Jennet’s voice pierced the vision, calling him back to the present. “Are you all right? Tam…” Her breath was warm against his cheek.

He blinked, to find her concerned eyes staring into his, her hand wrapped tightly around his arm. Behind her was only the dingy wall of Crestview High - no mysterious clearing, no bonfire with dancing fey folk. No Dark Queen. He exhaled, from lungs that felt too tight.

“I, um… yeah. Just thinking.”

Her brow still furrowed with worry, Jennet let go of his arm. He wished she hadn’t - her touch had been warm and solid, anchoring him. He glanced down, letting his hair fall across his face. Why was he suddenly thinking of the queen, when he had a perfect, human girl right in front him?

“How are we going to get the grass out of Feyland?” he asked, breaking the silence before it veered into awkward.

She frowned. “If Roy really does have a talisman from the Bright King, then it must be possible to move stuff from Feyland into the real world.”

“We’ve brought back plenty of injuries,” he said. “That has to count for something.”

The squeak of brakes interrupted him - the first of the buses arriving. In another few minutes, Crestview High would be full of talking, jostling students.

“Come on,” Jennet said. “We need to go back to my house, right now. Dad’s at work, and I don’t care if the staff says anything - as long as we get the ointment done.”

She headed toward the curb, where George still waited with the grav-car. Either she’d told him to stay, or he was keeping an eye on her.

“Are you sure?” He didn’t mind cutting school, but she could get in serious trouble.

“Yes. If everything goes right in-game, we can get back before school ends. Even if we can’t save everyone, we can at least save Marny.”

Tam paused beside the open car door. “Do you think we can make it all the way to the Bright Court?”

“We don’t have any other choice.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet selected her Kitsune character and gave the command to enter game. Urgency pulsing through her, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Take us to the Bright Court.

She and Tam had to get there - had to find the Bright King’s throne, and figure out how to harvest its grass. If it meant fighting the king himself… well, she was ready to do whatever it took.

The queasy sensation of entering the game twisted her stomach. When the feeling faded, she opened her eyes.

White-dotted scarlet mushrooms encircled her, and tall oak trees lifted high branches above. The air was quiet and warm. The path between the trees beckoned, and once again, she felt the tug of the Bright Court. Relief swept through her like a sudden gust of wind, making her sway in place.

A moment later, Tam appeared in the faerie-ring. He shot a quick glance around, his clear, green gaze coming to settle on her.

“Looks like we’re in the right place. Let’s go.”

She nodded, and together they stepped out of the ring and headed down the path. Emerald moss cushioned their footsteps as they wound between the trees. Ahead, vivid spots of color resolved to orange and blue-winged butterflies, flitting in and out of a shaft of sunlight.

“This is beautiful,” she said.

It reminded her of the first time she’d entered Feyland - a bright veil of magic stitching over the landscape, the smell of herbs sweet in the air, the chiming laughter of the pixies overhead. She sent a wary glance into the tree tops.

Tam looked up, too, at the glimmering silver flashes. “Didn’t you say the pixies attacked you, when you were playing with Roy?”

“Yeah. Kamikaze pixies - always a nice surprise.”

A grin flickered across his lips - the lighthearted side of Tam that she so rarely saw outside the game.

“I’ll hold them off with my shield if they attack,” he said. “They’ll just bounce off.”

It made an amusing picture, but… “I’d rather not test it out. It was kind of unnerving, having them diving at me that time.”

“They seem to be keeping their distance.” He looked up again. “Is it getting brighter?”

It was. The trunks of the trees glowed almost silver, and the beams of sunlight were a piercing white.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Remember, as we got closer to the Dark Court it got more and more midnight.”

“You think we’re near the Bright Court now, since it’s so light? But don’t we have a quest to do, first?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess we keep going forward, and see what happens.” Sort of like life, really.

The path widened, the moss now spangled with white flowers. It looked idyllic, but the back of her neck prickled.

Without warning, two gnarled brown creatures leaped out from behind the trees. Tam drew his sword and Jennet grabbed her bow off her back. Was the first fight upon them so quickly?

Rather than attacking, the figures, took up positions on either side of the path and blocked it with their crossed spears. Jennet let her arrow slide back down into the quiver, but she still kept her bow to hand.

“What business do you have with the Bright Court?” the taller one rasped, regarding them with bright, beady eyes.

Its fingers were long and twiggy, but it looked strong enough to use its sharp-pointed spear convincingly.

“We seek an audience with the Bright King,” Tam said. “Let us pass.”

“Mortals,” the second guard said. Its voice sounded like dry branches rubbing together - an odd contrast to the liquid birdsong filling the woods. “Give us a reason for it.”

She glanced at Tam, and he gave her a look that said it was up to her. All right then. She’d try to be as vague as possible. Somehow she didn’t think the fey-folk would be happy about their plan to take a bit of Feyland back into the real world. Even if it was only a handful of grass.

“We come to…” She cleared her throat. “To beg a boon of your most gracious king.”

“A boon?” The taller guard let out a cackle. “Tricksy mortals. The king will untangle your words well enough - and he does not grant wishes lightly.”

The other creature leaned forward with a creaking sound. “Be careful what you ask for, knight and lady. Everything carries a price.”

Didn’t she know it. For a second, her palms tingled with the aftermath of scorching heat, the searing memory of when she’d saved Tam from the queen.

He looked at her as though he could read her thoughts, his green eyes serious. They had both paid, in the court of the Dark Queen. What new sacrifice awaited them at the Bright Court?

The taller guard cocked his head, as if listening to something they couldn’t hear.

“Pass,” he said after a moment. “The king has granted his leave to attend the Bright Court - provided you mortals can find your way there.” He gave his cackling laugh again, then pulled his spear back, opening the path.

The second creature nodded and did the same, and Tam slid his sword back into its scabbard. Trying to ignore a shiver of worry, Jennet slung her bow across her back. She followed Tam down the path, glancing at the gnarled creatures as she went past. More like them - and stranger - would probably fill the Bright Court.

Once they left the guards behind, she glanced at Tam. “It sounds like they’re expecting us to get lost along the way.”

“Then we’ll just have to disappoint them. We’re reaching the court, no matter what.”

He sounded so determined - but there was no way of knowing what Feyland was going to throw their way. No use speculating, either, until it was upon them.

The trees thinned, the light growing stronger as they went forward, until they stood at the edge of a meadow. Purple and gold flowers scattered among the low grasses, and the sweet smell of summer tickled her nose. Overhead, the sky was a clear and flawless blue.

The path, however, was gone. Nothing marked the meadow, not even a faint track through the knee-high grass.

“Straight ahead?” Tam asked.

“Makes sense.”

They set off across the meadow. After a minute, Jennet looked over her shoulder, checking the edge of the forest to make sure they were still going in a straight line. Her breath tightened. Only grass stretched out around them, in all directions.

“Tam? I can’t see the trees anymore.”

He whirled, his hand going to his sword. “Damn. I guess they do want us to get lost. We could end up going in circles for hours.”

“We’d know.” She tried to keep her voice confident. “Look, the grass behind us is trampled.”

Not that she’d be surprised if Feyland regenerated the meadow when they weren’t looking, making the grasses spring back up and erasing all signs of their passage. But that kind of thinking would start fear hammering through her blood, and she was not going there. Not yet, anyway.

After a few more minutes of unchanging landscape, Tam paused. “If we do end up wandering around in here for too long, we can log off.”

“We should keep going. There’s no guarantee we’d get back to this level again, or even this close to the Bright Court. You know that Feyland is tricky that way.”

“Yeah,” he said, tromping forward. “Onward, it is.”

As if their conversation itself had been a turning point, the meadow began to change. The grasses on either side of them rose, until they were waist-high. Bright scarlet poppies dotted the fields, and a swallow swooped high overhead.

There was something ahead, too, cutting across the landscape. Another minute of walking brought them to it - a tall wooden fence, blocking their view of whatever lay beyond.

“Do we just climb over?” Jennet asked, studying the fence. “We could use those knotholes for hand and footholds.”

“There’s a break or something, down there.” Tam tipped his head to the left. “Let’s try that, first.”

He was right. The fence dipped, straddled by a tall, ladder-like construction.

“A stile,” she said, when they reached it. “Never thought I’d see one of those, let alone clamber over it.”

Tam began to climb. The stile seemed sturdy enough, even for a knight in armor. When he got to the top, he paused and shaded his eyes with his hand.

“What do you see?” she called up to him.

“More field. And some kind of creatures out there - horses maybe. I can’t tell if they’re dangerous or not at this distance.”

Jennet nodded. Anything in Feyland could be perilous. Or not.

Tam stepped across the top of the stile and started down the other side, and she began climbing. She’d gotten to the third rung, when a high, cheerful voice called out.

“Fair Jennet, Bold Tamlin! Well met again, brave adventurers.”

“Puck!” She’d know that voice anywhere.

She looked up to see the sprite sitting, cross-legged, atop the stile. On the other side of the fence, she could just see the top of Tam’s head.

“I have but little time in this between place,” Puck said. “Listen, and listen well. The answers you seek lie ahead. Do not be afraid to battle fiercely for them.”

“Great,” Tam said. “More flawless advice from the little guy.”

Puck stuck out his tongue. “Better prepared you are, Bold Tamlin. But do not thank me for it.”

“Right,” Tam said.

The fey-folk didn’t like to be thanked directly - she knew that much from the tales in her old book. She was glad Tam remembered, too.

“Farewell,” the sprite said, giving a jaunty wave as Jennet gained the top of the stile.

“Wait…” she said, but it was too late.

Tam’s foot touched earth on the other side, and Puck was gone, leaving only his chiming laughter behind. That faded quickly, too, and she sighed.

“At least his advice is better than nothing.”

“Maybe.” Tam reached up a steadying hand as she began to descend. “With Puck, I’m never so sure. He’s mischievous.”

“It’s part of his charm.”

She jumped down, skipping the last couple rungs, then drew in a deep breath of the grass-scented air, the ground solid under her feet. Not that virtual reality or the Realm of Faerie were particularly solid to begin with. Reluctantly, she let go of Tam’s hand.

At least they knew Puck could reach them, even within the lands of the Bright King. She took comfort in the thought, although Tam obviously didn’t.

A sharp whinny broke the warm air, followed by the pound of hooves. A moment later, a herd of silvery horses streamed into view - heading straight toward them. They weren’t at all friendly-looking. White fire flickered at their feet, and their eyes were glowing, as though lit by coals.

Jennet’s heartbeat notched up, echoing the thudding hooves. She snatched her bow off her back, then shot a quick glance over her shoulder, judging the distance to the fence. They could make it over the stile to safety, if they sprinted hard.

“Run for it?” she asked.

“No.” Tam pulled his sword in one smooth move. “Remember what Puck said? We stay - and fight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet nocked an arrow to her bow and waited, barely breathing. Were the horses going to trample them to death? Just when she was poised to turn and run, the herd pulled up short.

They were even more frightening, up close. The dark hollows of their eyes were filled with flame, and their flickering hooves looked razor-sharp. The horses stood eerily silent - no milling about, no snorting and whinnying. Then a figure emerged from the middle of the herd, a young man, clad in a silvery robe the same color as the horse’s hides. He had white hair, and eyes black as night.

She blinked. Where had he come from?

“Halt!” he called, his voice deep and resonant. “Who trespasses on the lands of the Bright King? Turn back, turn back, else a reckoning is upon thee.”

“Reckon away,” Tam said, and raised his sword.

Clearly he’d taken Puck’s advice to heart.

“Ah,” the man breathed. A thin, sharp blade appeared in either hand. “Impetuous mortals.”

Tam rushed forward, but the white-haired man danced nimbly away. Biting her lip, Jennet lifted her bow and sighted down the arrow. Drat it. She didn’t have a clear shot. If she missed, she’d hit one of the horses, and that didn’t seem like a good idea. Maybe they’d all transform into enemies with knives. She started circling around, looking for a better angle.

Tam and his opponent clashed blades, parted, then came together again. The sun glinted brightly on his armor, shone on the robes and white hair of the other fighter, until she had to squint against the glare. They seemed evenly matched as fighters - but that wouldn’t be enough for her and Tam to win their way forward.

She finally found a position to shoot from. Now the trick would be avoiding Tam. She lifted her bow again, then lowered it with a growl of frustration. He was too close to his opponent. Her aim was decent now, but not flawless enough to take those kinds of chances.

Maybe an archer/warrior combo in-game wasn’t so great after all. She could use her Kitsune flame powers, but again, that risked injury to Tam.

Tam and the white-haired man fought on, moving almost as if they were dancing. There was a hypnotic beauty to it - the push and parry, spin and turn. Jennet shook herself, pulling her eyes away from the graceful flashing of silver blades under the sun. Time to end this.

“Tam, jump back!” she yelled, keeping her arrow trained on the white-haired guy.

Without looking at her, Tam threw himself backward. Jennet released, and with a zinging noise, her arrow flew true. It hit the enemy’s arm with a meaty thunk, and he let out a cry that sounded almost like a neigh.

Tam sprang forward again and held the edge of his blade to their enemy’s throat. Jennet wasted no time in nocking another arrow to her string.

“Do you yield?” Tam asked.

The man blew his breath out through his nose, nostrils flaring. His fingers were clenched around the shaft of the arrow stuck in his arm. A thin trickle of blood ran down toward his wrist.

“Very well,” he said, his voice tight with pain. “You and the lady have won victory - and further passage.”

Tam gave a single nod and lowered his sword.

Jennet hurried over to the man. He winced as she approached.

“Let me help you,” she said. After all, it was her arrow sticking out of him.

His black eyes considered her. “I did not expect injury. Your aid would be welcome.”

“Hold still.” She grasped the arrow, and, before she could think too hard about it, pulled straight back. The man gasped as the point came free, making blood spurt freely.

“Here.” Tam handed her a thick gauze pad he’d summoned.

“Thanks - good idea.”

She slapped the gauze over the man’s injury, and he shuddered beneath her hands as she pressed firmly against the arrow hole.

“I shall transform,” he said. “This wound will close of itself when my flesh changes shape.”

“Transform… into a horse?” she asked.

“Aye. When I do, take your place upon my back, and I shall carry you as far as I may.”

“Do you swear no harm will come to us?” Tam asked.

The man nodded. “I promise to carry your lady safely.”

“Hey,” Tam said. “What about me?”

The man’s laugh was a high whinny. “Have no fear, brave Knight. Another of my herd shall bear you, with the same promise. Now, stand away.”

Jennet stepped back, holding the bloody gauze. Before them, the man shimmered, as if the air around him was suddenly molten. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was gone - as was the cloth she’d been holding. Now a silvery steed stood before them, with white fire at its feet and glowing coals for eyes. The horse bobbed its head and, extending one foreleg, bent low.

A minute later, she and Tam were mounted and riding through the tall grasses. It was surprisingly easy to stay on the horse, and the loping canter made it feel as though she were flying. Her fingers twined in his silvery mane, and his wide back was warm and secure beneath her legs. It was like the very best of a good dream.

The rest of the herd spread out to either side, their manes and tails frothing like water. Jennet laughed, letting the wind snatch mirth from her lips. For a precious span of time, nothing else existed - only the rhythmic beat of hooves, the scarlet poppies under the sun, the bright air against her face. And Tam, riding beside her.

At last, the herd slowed. Ahead of them, she saw another fence, this one bisected with a gate. When they reached it, her mount stopped and gave a brief whinny, and Jennet slid off. The air shimmered and the horse disappeared, replaced by the white-haired man.

“I leave you here,” he said. “Your path lies beyond this gate. Farewell, mortals.”

“Fair running to you,” Jennet said, bowing. Beside her, Tam did the same, the sunlight glinting off his armor.

The man gave a nod, his dark eyes watchful as she and Tam went up to the gate. It was secured by a silver latch, and opened easily. Tam strode through, but she paused to wave one last time at the horse-man. He lifted his hand in return. Then the gate swung closed, blocking her view. She could hear the quiet thunder of hooves, racing away over the bright fields. For a heart-twisting moment, she wished she could go with them.

Instead, she let out a sigh and turned to see what new adventure awaited.

“Another field?” she said. “This is getting a little old.”

“Guess we’re seeing the full tour of Feyland.” Tam strode forward, through grasses dotted with vivid blue blossoms. “At least the flowers here are a different color.”

She paused to look at one - it had a deep blue center, with ruffled petals at the edge. Pretty, but she had no idea what it was called.

This was a noisier field than the last one. The hum of insects droned through the lazy air. It would be so nice to sit down in the grasses and feel the sun, warm on her face. Just for a minute - a short rest…

“Jennet!” Tam was kneeling beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Hey, wake up - this is no time for napping.”

She blinked up at him, feeling as though she was wrapped in mist, stumbling toward a faint light.

“What?” She rubbed her eyes, and looked around.

Oh, right. Field. Flowers. Feyland.

“Come on.” Tam held out his hand and helped pull her to her feet. “Stay close, ok?”

She nodded, a last bit of haziness still clinging to her senses. Walking seemed to help, and a few minutes later she finally felt like she was awake.

“How come you’re not tired?” she asked.

“Oh, I am.” His voice held an edge. “But that’s normal for me.”

“What, you’re an insomniac?”

He hitched up one shoulder. “Nah - but sometimes life is way too complicated to sleep.”

What kinds of things kept him awake deep into the night? She was about to ask, when they crested a slight rise. Below them was another herd of animals, with long, wickedly-pointed horns.

“Cows?” she guessed.

“And bulls,” Tam said. “I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of those horns.”

“Then it’s pretty much guaranteed we will be. Look, one’s heading over.”

The largest of the shaggy black beasts had turned and was ambling up the rise toward them. It had the same glowing, eldritch eyes as the horses.

“There’s something on its back,” she said, catching sight of a small brown figure perched just behind the bull’s head. “It’s not Puck, is it?”

“Doesn’t look like. Maybe one of his relatives.”

The big animal halted a few feet away, and the figure riding it stood, holding one horn for balance. It was a sprite of some kind - it had the same crooked grin and ramshackle clothing, the same jaunty bearing as Puck. But this one seemed to be a girl, judging by the wild tangle of hair and tattered skirts.

“Greetings, bold adventurers,” she said, her voice high and clear. “What brings you to the king’s pastures?”

“We seek the Bright Court,” Tam said. “Can you tell us in which direction it lies?”

The sprite laughed. “Indeed, I cannot.”

Tam frowned, and turned to Jennet. “Any thoughts?”

She stepped forward and addressed the sprite. “You cannot tell us freely, but may we win this information from you?”

“That you may.” The creature cocked her head and regarded them with bright eyes. “What manner of contest do you choose?”

“Um…” Jennet folded her arms. “What are our options?”

“Riddle, rhyme, or rending - those three choices I lay before you.”

Riddle - no. She’d lost her fight against the Dark Queen, in part because of a riddle. Rhyme? Maybe. But Puck had said to battle fiercely. Which left…

“Rending,” Tam said, and pulled his blade.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE BRIGHT COURT

The sprite laughed and pointed one finger at Tam.

“Brave Knight - so be it.” She stood and vaulted off the bull’s back, leaving the animal facing him squarely.

Before him, the bull’s eyes glowed brighter. It lowered its head and swung it side-to-side, the sharp tips of its horns glinting wickedly. Tam’s throat went dry. Slowly, he circled to the left, turning the animal away from Jennet and giving himself room to fight. The bull followed, pivoting to keep those eerie eyes focused on him.

The bunching of enormous muscles was his only warning. The beast charged, an explosion of deadliness hurtling right at Tam. He threw himself into a tumbling roll, trying not to stab himself on his naked blade as sharp hooves flashed by. Jennet gasped, but he couldn’t spare her a glance.

He took his sword in both hands and swung, scoring a deep gash along the animal’s flank. It bellowed and turned, nicking Tam’s arm with its horn. The sharp tip punctured his armor, tearing a rent in the silvery plate. He felt the sting of blood, beneath. This was not good. So far, his armor had proven impervious to anything Feyland threw at him. Why did it have to fail him now?

“Get off!” he heard Jennet cry, behind him.

No time to turn and see what was going on - the fiery-eyed beast was preparing to charge him again. The bull pawed the ground, once, then rushed forward. Damn, that thing was fast.

Tam darted to the side, and heard the swish of air by his ear as the horn narrowly missed gouging him. He made another quick stab with his sword, but the beast was getting smarter now. The next pass, or the next, Tam wouldn’t be able to jump clear in time.

Brute force wasn’t the answer. He was way overmatched in that arena. So, what did he have? Brains and agility - and high time he started using them. As the animal gathered itself to charge him once more, Tam sheathed his sword and slipped his shield from his arm.

“Tam - what are you doing?” Jennet called, fear sharpening her voice.

There wasn’t time to reassure her. He held the shield out to one side, as far from his body as he could, and waved it up and down.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Go for the shiny.”

The beast snorted and plunged forward - but this time it aimed for the shield. Tam waited, heartbeat crashing in his ears. At the last second, he dropped the decoy and leaped as the animal rushed past. His outstretched hands touched hide and horn, and he scrabbled desperately for a handhold.

His right hand closed over the bull’s horn, but he only had a moment more to get himself up, away from those deadly hooves. With a harsh grunt, he flung his leg up, feeling like his back was about to break from the angle. For a sickening second he dangled there, half-suspended on the side of the bull. Then he managed to grab a tuft of hair, enough to keep him from sliding off. The beast swung its head, trying to find him, and the motion was enough to propel him onto its back.

Tam pulled himself upright and clamped his legs around the animal, hard. He only had a heartbeat before it figured out he was aboard. Praying he wouldn’t be bucked off, he slid his sword out of its scabbard. He grasped the hilt in both hands, took a deep breath, and poised the blade, point-down, right above the beast’s spine.

“Halt!” the sprite cried. She rose into the air, tattered clothing whirling about her, and flung her arms wide.

Tam felt his muscles lock. Beneath him, the bull went still as a stone. To one side, Jennet stood frozen, too, her hands outstretched.

“Sword, speed away,” the sprite said.

With a twitch of her fingers, Tam’s blade spun from his grasp. It fell harmlessly into the grasses, gleaming among the blue flowers.

“Knight, dismount.”

Another twitch, and Tam was sent tumbling to the ground. At least his paralysis was broken. He hastily stood, grabbed his sword, then hurried over to Jennet.

“Release her,” he said.

The sprite wrinkled her nose, then slowly lowered her arms, and Jennet pulled in a gasping breath. Tam was glad to see that the bull was still under the sprite’s spell.

“We won,” Jennet said. She turned to the sprite, who still hovered in mid-air. “Admit it - we won.”

“Yon Knight carried the day,” the sprite said. “I concede the victory to you, mortals.”

She snapped her fingers, and the bull shook, as though dislodging flies. It let out a low moo, but didn’t look like it was going to charge. Still, Tam wasn’t putting his sword away.

“Your shield.” Jennet went and retrieved the trampled metal.

She held it up and examined the deep dents. Tam suppressed a shiver. Good thing it had been the shield, not him under those hooves.

The sprite snapped her fingers again, and in an eye-blink the shield was smooth and unmarred. Without a word, Jennet handed it over. He strapped it on, then turned to the sprite.

“Tell us,” he said, “Which way to the Bright King’s court?”

The creature cartwheeled through empty air and landed on the bull’s back, then sent them a jaunty smile.

“Through the gate, of course.”

“Which gate?” Jennet sounded exasperated.

“Why, that one.” The sprite pointed past their shoulders. “Farewell, brave adventurers.”

She gave a shrill whistle, and the fire-eyed bull lumbered away, back down the hill. Tam was glad to have those horns headed in the opposite direction.

“Annoying little thing,” Jennet said. “At least she wasn’t lying about the gate.”

Tam turned, to discover another fence had materialized right behind them. He and Jennet stood before a gate that looked identical to the last one they had passed through - except this one was secured by a golden latch.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he lifted the latch and pushed the gate open.

Beyond lay an orchard in full flower, rows of trees planted in orderly lines, with emerald grass between. White drifts of petals scattered over the ground, and a sweet smell filled the air. It seemed a little too peaceful.

“A nice change from the fields,” Jennet said.

“It still doesn’t look like the Bright Court.” He stepped forward, one wary hand on his sword.

“Things usually come in threes in the Realm of Faerie,” she said. “This should be the last test.”

He glanced around, eyeing the insects buzzing among the blooms. “So, what is it this time? Killer bees?”

“I hope not.” She cast a suspicious look at the bees. “Are their eyes glowing?”

He stepped over to the nearest tree and drew down a bough, inspecting the insects. After a moment he shook his head.

“They seem ordinary,” he said, gently releasing the branch. Dislodged blossoms fell around him like snow.

She grinned at him. “You’ve got petals in your hair.”

So did she - bright stars of flowers that crowned her like a princess.

“My new look,” he said. “It accents my warrior-like qualities. Besides, I’m not the only one with tree litter on me.”

She glanced down, then brushed at her vest. Not that it would help - petals drifted all around them, eddying in the slight breeze.

“You’re not allergic, I hope,” he said, starting down the row.

“Luckily, no. A sneezing fit would really mess with my aim.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Tam - you totally won that last fight. I was trying to help, and that dumb sprite kept jumping on me and pulling my hair. I couldn’t even get my bow out. Nice job.”

“Hey, I’m a Knight. It’s what I do.” He shrugged, though her words kindled a glow inside him.

“You know - ”

“Hold up.” He lifted one hand. “Do you hear something?”

Faint clucking and chirping sounds filtered through the drowsy hum of the bees.

“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “Birds, maybe?”

“This way,” he said, ducking under the trees to their right.

Jennet followed, matching his quiet footsteps. Three rows over, they found the source of the noise. A flock of speckled chickens browsed on the green grass, with a few white pigeons mixed in. The birds seemed oblivious to their presence - though they had the same freaky glowing eyes as the horses and cows.

“Now what?” she said at his shoulder. “We battle a flock of birds? This could get messy.”

Something moved beside the trunk of a nearby tree. Tam whirled, to see an old woman in a gray cloak step forward.

“Is it battle you seek?” she asked, her voice low and raspy.

“Actually,” Jennet said, “we seek the court of the Bright King.”

“It lies ahead - but you may not pass.”

“I think we will pass.” Tam set his hand to his sword.

“A foolish choice,” the old woman said with a sigh. “Not unexpected, when dealing with mortals.”

She reached beneath her cloak and drew out a handful of something, then scattered it with one quick move. Golden seeds sparkled in the sun, settling like bright sequins on the grass. The fowl hurried over to peck furiously at their feed. A moment later, they erupted into flight - heading straight for Tam and Jennet.

He stepped forward and pulled his sword, feeling a little absurd. How was he supposed to fight a flock of chickens? All sense of humor fled, however, as the birds buffeted him. Their sharp claws were outstretched, scratching along his armor. One chicken flew right for his face, and he hoisted his shield, battering the bird down.

He swept his blade in wide arcs, and feathers scattered in the warm air. The birds squawked loudly, but were surprisingly good at avoiding his sword. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of dusty red leaping into the air. A fox! Or… was that Jennet?

There wasn’t time to be sure - the birds were coming at him even faster. He hit them with his shield, ducking away from their vicious claws and beaks. The fox was darting and jumping, leaving a growing pile of limp feathered bodies in her wake.

“Enough!” the old woman cried.

She held up her hands, and the remaining flock flapped back to her feet. Tam lowered his sword. Beside him, the fox stretched and grew, and was suddenly Jennet. She was breathing hard, but smiling.

“Nice trick,” he said.

“Instinct - though I have to say, chicken blood doesn’t taste all that great, in human form.” She scrunched up her nose in distaste.

“Water,” he said, summoning a glass, then handing it to her.

Creating little things like that in-game was easy - it was the bigger stuff that was dangerously draining.

Jennet drank the water, then handed him the glass back, and he vanished it.

“Now, hen-wife,” Tam said, “which way to the Bright Court?”

The old woman nodded. “Well may you ask, brave adventurers - and you have won the right to know. Go on a little farther, and you will see a round green hill rising against the sky. The hill will have three terraces ringing it, from bottom to top. Go once widdershins round the bottom terrace, saying, Open from within, let us in, let us in.”

Tam leaned toward Jennet. “What’s widdershins?”

“Counter-clockwise,” she said.

“Go twice widdershins around the middle terrace,” the old woman continued, “saying, Open wide, open wide, let us inside.”

Tam repeated the words to himself, committing both the first and second rhyme to memory. He knew Jennet was doing the same.

The woman paused, glancing up into the sky. Then she closed her eyes, as if ready to take a short nap with the sun on her face.

“And the third terrace?” he prompted.

“Always so impatient, you mortal blood,” the hen-wife snapped, opening her eyes. “Very well. At the top terrace, go widdershins thrice around, saying, Open fast, open fast, let us in at last. And the door in the hill will open, giving passage to the Bright Court. Now, go. I am weary.”

She closed her eyes again, clearly done with them. Jennet traded a quick look with Tam, and together they slipped past the drowsing hen-wife. The birds pecking around her feet paid them no mind, though their eyes still glowed with eldritch fire.

“Glad that’s over,” Jennet said, once they put some distance between themselves and the hen-wife.

He frowned. “We still haven’t made it to the Bright Court.”

“We will. Look, the trees are thinning out.”

The orchard ended suddenly, and before them, as the old woman had promised, a round green hill rose against the sky.

They stepped up to the first terrace. Tam drew his sword and stuck it, point first, into the earth. It swayed, a silver sentinel bright against the green grass.

“What’s that for?” Jennet asked.

“So we know when we’ve gone once around.”

She nodded, then reached over and caught his hand. The clasp of their fingers felt right.

“Ready?” she asked, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“Always.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet turned to her right. Widdershins. Hand-in-hand, she and Tam paced around the first terrace, saying the words the hen-wife had given them. The rhyme didn’t seem at all childish or silly, as she had feared. Instead, the syllables hung in the air. Clouds began to gather at the horizon, a dark line that made her shiver.

She was glad when they reached Tam’s sword. That had been a smart idea, if a little dramatic. Then again, Feyland was a dramatic place.

“Round two,” he said, yanking the blade free.

It was a steeper climb, ascending to the second terrace. When they gained the flat section, Jennet took a deep breath. The orchard spread below them, the tops of the trees like fluffy pillows. Beyond the orchard, she could see the fence, and the meadow dotted with grazing cattle.

Again, Tam drove his sword into the earth, and they took hands, facing widdershins. The words of the rhyme tolled out like a bell. As they walked, the wind began to rise, pulling strands of Jennet’s hair free to whip about her face. They passed the sword. Clouds were piling up in the sky, a dark bruise reaching for the sun.

“Hurry,” she breathed when they reached his sword the second time.

Tam yanked it out of the ground and they scrambled up to the final terrace, grabbing onto tufts of grass to keep their balance. Tam took her hand and hauled her up the last few feet, then pushed the tip of his blade into the earth. From here, she could see the far meadow, where a silvery herd of horses raced under the darkening sky - and beyond, the edge of a wood.

Clasping hands again, even tighter, they went around the top terrace, faster and faster. The words of the rhyme fell from her lips, echoed on his, until the very air seemed to be vibrating.

“Open fast, open fast, let us in at last.”

Past the sword once. Twice.

The clouds devoured the sun, the air suddenly cold and clammy against her skin. The wind grew even fiercer, snatching the syllables from her mouth almost before she said them. Tam raced ahead, pulling her by the hand. Ahead, the silver blade of his sword glowed, as if lit from within.

She reached the blade a second behind Tam. As she did, the air was rent by a clap of thunder that brought them both to their knees. He stood and wrenched his sword free, and a sudden stillness fell over the land.

“Look,” he whispered.

Above them, at the very summit, a seam opened in the side of the hill. The grasses shimmered and melted away, revealing a wooden door. Slowly, it swung open - a shadow-mouth leading someplace unimaginable. Cold air breathed out, scented with age and long-forgotten things buried in the earth. Two tall, hooded figures swathed in mist-colored cloaks stood guard on either side.

Jennet swallowed, fear a sharp tang in her mouth.

“That doesn’t look very… bright,” she said in a low voice. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this - a gaping passage leading into a dark hill.

Tam slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick, comforting hug. It worked - probably because it was so unexpected. She blinked at him, and he gave her a half-smile.

“Come on,” he said.

He stepped away from her and led the way up the last bit of rise. Despite his confident bearing, she could see that his fingers were tight on the handle of his sword.

As they approached, Jennet peered at the doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the threshold. She couldn’t see anything, just a swirling, heavy mist.

“Bold Tam Linn and Lady Jennet,” the cloaked figures said, their voices chiming in eerie unison. “The door into the hill stands open, and our king awaits. Enter.”

Her heartbeat galloping like the silvery horses, she moved up beside Tam. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they walked forward into the pale mist.

Instead of darkness, it was as luminous as the dawn clouds catching the first glow of sunshine. Their footsteps were muffled, and the air around them was strangely warm. Just visible through the mist, she could see the shapes of arches on either side of them. They were made of quartz crystal, the pale material nearly the same color as the swirling air.

“I don’t think this is the Bright Court,” she said, her voice muted by the mist.

“Me either,” Tam said. “Do we try one of these side passages?”

“Maybe.” She squinted. “What’s that up ahead?”

“I’ll go see.” Tam lengthened his stride. “Another door.”

She hurried to catch up, then caught her breath as the mist swirled up around them. A second later it faded away, revealing a tall crystalline arch closed with two richly decorated golden doors. She leaned forward for a closer look at the sinuous designs - foliage and flowers and capering fey-folk.

“Watch out,” Tam said, taking her elbow and pulling her back as the doors began to open.

Radiance spilled from the widening crack, so bright that she lifted her arm to shield her eyes.

“Hello?” she called.

There was no answer, just the doors opening wide until they stopped, spread open like shining wings.

“All right,” she said, dropping her arm and trying not to squint. “I’d say we’ve finally reached the Bright Court.”

With a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold. They were there - she felt it in her bones.

Past the doors, the light was as bright as day, gleaming on tall pillars carved of gold and silver. She tipped her face up to see the roof - but there were only waving branches overhead. Branches that glimmered and gleamed, with emerald leaves and brightly jeweled flowers winking between. She looked again at the pillars. No, not pillars - they were the trunks of those fantastical gemmed trees. Underfoot, moss as lush as green velvet cushioned their footsteps.

She glanced at Tam, to see his eyes were wide.

“I don’t think we’re still under the hill,” she said.

“Oh, but you are,” a high, familiar voice piped. “In and in, and deeper in, to the very halls of the Bright Court you have come.”

“Puck?” Tam turned a full circle, and they were rewarded with the sprite’s laughter.

“Can’t you show yourself?” Jennet asked. “I thought you were free to move between the courts.”

“That I am!” The sprite leapt from behind an ornately carved trunk, did a handspring, and landed lightly in front of them. His eyes were bright with mischief and merriment. “I shall escort you to the feet of the Bright King himself.”

“Are you sure you aren’t going to just disappear at a crucial moment?” Tam asked

Jennet gave him a look. “Come on - we have to trust Puck. I’d hate to lose our way, after getting so close.”

“Make haste,” Puck said. “The king’s patience only extends so far.”

The sprite pursed his lips and let out a shrill whistle. An answering skree came echoing from the metallic trees. A moment later, an owl with a pale, heart-shaped face and dun feathers swooped low over their heads and landed beside Puck.

He jumped up onto its back and grabbed a leather strap attached between the bird’s wings. With a flurry of feathers, the owl launched itself back into the air and began winging away.

“Follow us,” Puck called from his perch. “Quickly!”

“Classic,” Tam said. “At this rate, we’ll get lost, anyway.”

She didn’t bother answering, just strode out, trying to keep the pale shape of the owl in sight. They dipped and twisted between the trees, and it was all she and Tam could do to keep up. Ahead, Puck and the owl went into a dive, then straightened up into a smooth glide. She wouldn’t be surprised to see the sprite pilot the bird upside-down, like a trick g-boarder. Though probably his ride wouldn’t be much amused.

The light grew brighter still, not quite sunlight, but nearly. She shaded her eyes and peered at the roof - though it felt more like the sky. Something was glowing up there, and they were getting closer to it with every step. The vaulted trees shimmered and clinked, and the warm air wafted the scent of roses.

“Almost there” she murmured.

She looked up again, at a break in the trees, and saw an enormous, luminous pearl suspended high overhead on a silver chain. The white radiance was mixed with touches of scarlet, as though a live coal - or stolen bits of the sun - smoldered in the heart of that brightness.

“That’s a serious light fixture,” Tam said.

Puck brought his owl to earth in a smooth swoop, then dismounted. The owl leaped back into flight, winging away between the glimmering trees.

“Attend,” the sprite said. “Yonder clearing is the center of the Bright King’s court.”

He gestured, and Jennet bit her lip. So close. At least nothing had challenged them to mortal combat - yet. Slowly, she walked forward, Tam right beside her.

As they approached the clearing, she could make out glimmering figures, hear their sparkling laughter. In the very center rose a dais with a throne upon it. And on that throne sat a figure, shining so brightly she could hardly look.

Three more steps brought them into the clearing. They had reached the Bright Court of Feyland.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - THE BRIGHT COURT

Pixies flew back and forth, stitching the air with brightness. Beneath one of the trees a long-limbed dryad sat, plucking the strings of a harp. The sweet, yearning melody pierced through Jennet like the echo of some precious thing, lost.

On either side of the throne, fey-folk reclined on couches fashioned of velvet and silk. Ethereal-winged women, more of the gnarled creatures who had guarded the path, a capering gnome - all watched them with curious eyes. Curious, but not unwelcoming, unlike the denizens of the Dark Court.

Then a voice spoke from the dais, deep and rich, like sandalwood and gold. “What bogles do you bring before me, Puck?”

The glow surrounding the throne began to fade, and Jennet risked a peek at the king. He was tall, his pale hair swept back by a circlet of pure gold. Piercing silver eyes surveyed them from above sharp cheekbones. His face held strength, and an otherworldly beauty that made her shiver.

She dropped her gaze to the throne, then let out a relieved breath to see that it was made of the metallic foliage. Plus, the whole dais was covered with glimmering grasses. The ingredient they needed for the faerie ointment.

“Your highness.” Puck swept an improbably elegant bow. “I bring two mortals who would ask a boon of you. They have passed many tests to stand before you, and I pray you grant them what they seek.”

“Come closer,” the king said, beckoning to Jennet and Tam.

Puck moved to the side, making a place for himself on one of the velvet couches, between two of the faerie maidens.

When they reached the foot of the dais, Tam made a slight bow and Jennet dipped her knees in a passable curtsey. They weren’t here to fight the king - at least, she hoped not.

“Ah,” the king said, an amused note in his tone. “Mortals, yes. And familiar with the Realm, if I am not mistaken. Tell me, how fares my shadow-sister, the Dark Queen?”

Jennet swallowed. “Um… well enough.”

If you didn’t count the fact that she and Tam had ruined the queen’s plans to open a gateway into the mortal world.

“Step closer, human girl,” the Bright King said.

Almost against her will, she stepped up onto the dais. The king’s gaze was warm upon her, his eyes deep wells of sparkling magic. She took another step. Her heart hammered her ribs, excitement and fear blending into a dizzy rush through her blood.

“Quite fair, indeed,” the king said. “Maiden, would you grace my halls?”

“Hey!” Tam cried. “Leave her alone!”

She felt a wrench on her arm as Tam pulled her away. She stumbled off the dais, but Tam steadied her, his hands solid on her shoulders.

“You ok?” he asked with a worried tilt to his mouth.

“I... yeah.” She glanced up at the king, who was watching them impassively. “Are you sure that was a good idea? I mean, we need his help.”

Tam’s face shuttered. “Not at that price.”

The Bright King let out a long breath, and the gemmed trees on either side of the clearing swayed. Behind him, the pixies hovered - poised to attack? Jennet fingered the leather wrappings on the handle of her dagger. No, if it came to a fight, she’d use her illusion power again. But she had a feeling they had to find another solution here.

“Tam, he doesn’t even know what we want,” she said.

The king leaned forward. “Of course I do,” he said in his deep voice. “You want what every mortal entering the Realm wants. Magic. Power. And you may have it - for a price.”

“Actually,” Tam said, “we only want a handful of grass from your throne.”

The king raised his elegant brows. “Anything taken from the Bright Court is imbued with both magic and power. Your request is no different from all the others.”

“What others?” Jennet asked. “What did you give the Royal one?”

Names had power, and she knew better than to tell the king Roy’s real-life name.

The king smiled, something sly in his eyes. The pixies laughed, a sound both sweet and unsettling, like chiming bells that were slightly out-of-tune.

“The Realm holds its secrets,” he said. “But if you come and dwell with me for a year and a day, Fair Jennet, I will tell you anything you would like to know. Anything.”

Tam’s hand went to his sword and he made a low noise in his throat.

“No thanks,” Jennet said. “We’ll just bargain for the grass, ok?”

“A pity.”

The king beckoned to one of his fey handmaidens, who rose, light as a breath, and winged up to the throne. She bent her head close as he whispered something to her, then laughed and made him a bow.

“As my liege wills,” she said, her voice clear as mountain water. “I shall return, anon.”

She took a handful of bright air, pulling it around herself like a cloak. Between one heartbeat and the next, she was gone.

“Neat trick,” Tam said.

The king waved his hand, and a golden platter appeared at his elbow. Upon it was a basin of white liquid and a loaf of bread.

“Would you take refreshment, while we wait?” he asked.

“No,” Jennet said quickly.

Her old book held tales of mortals trapped in the Realm of Faerie after they ate a morsel of food or sipped a drop of drink. She glanced at Tam.

He nodded at her, then looked up at the king. “We’re not hungry.”

“What?” The king’s expression darkened. “Do you spurn my hospitality?”

Overhead, the pearl light sent out a spray of reddish sparks. Puck scrambled to his feet and leaped over to stand with Jennet and Tam.

“Your majesty,” the sprite said, “they are but mortals - young and foolish. Surely you cannot take offense at their oddities.”

The king folded his arms, his face severe. “I am no longer amused at your presence, Bold Tamlin and Fair Jennet. You have told me what you seek. Now I will offer my bargain in turn. For a handful of golden grass from my throne, you will give me something of equal weight and measure.”

“Um...” Tam said. “I don’t think we have anything like that.”

“Wait a sec,” she said. “It’s a riddle. We have to solve it in order to make the trade.”

Puck nodded at her, his eyes bright, but he remained silent. At least she was on the right track.

Tam leaned closer to her. “Great. So what do we have that’s of ‘equal weight and measure’ to some magical grass? I don’t trust this. It feels like a setup.”

“All of Feyland is a setup, Tam, but we need to make this work. Marny’s safety depends on it.” She pressed her lips together. “So, start thinking.”

The fletching of her arrows? Maybe if she unraveled part of her clothing?

“Right.” His brown hair fell in front of his eyes as he dipped his head. “I’m not wearing anything remotely close to grass-like - and my armor doesn’t have pockets. Maybe we can summon something.”

“I don’t think so - the king wouldn’t accept anything made in Feyland.”

“Jen.” Frustration seeped through Tam’s voice. “Everything here is made in Feyland - we’re just controlling avatars that are created from the pixels of this place.”

“Are you sure about that?” She turned to face him. “Remember when you first made your character. Did you choose the eye and hair color, the body type? Did you pick out a name?”

“Yeah - the usual character creation.”

“Except that it’s not. Somehow I don’t think you chose the name Bold Tamlin. And I bet you didn’t select green eyes, either. I know a lot has happened to us in-game, but tell me if I’m wrong.”

There was a stark look in his eyes now, as though he’d been able to forget the dark power of Feyland while they played. But she’d just ripped that illusion away.

“Ok. You’re right.” He drew in a long breath. “I still don’t see how that changes anything.”

“Well…” She was thinking through it as she spoke. “The queen was able to take a part of me, using my avatar. And we both know about injuries carrying over. So, our characters have a connection to our real-world bodies.” She tugged on a strand of her hair. The answer was so close - she could almost taste it.

He stilled, his eyes on her hand. “That’s it. Our hair. We can trade our hair for the grass.”

“Oh, well puzzled,” Puck said. He made a quick cartwheel, then leaped onto the king’s dais. “Have the mortals riddled it out well enough, your majesty?”

“Nearly so,” the king said.

His expression no longer held the tint of anger. The dark clouds had rolled away, the imminence of the storm dissolved.

With a gust of rose-scented breeze, the king’s handmaiden appeared beside the throne. She held a pair of silver scissors in one hand, and in the other, two finely-worked golden boxes.

“Alright,” Tam said. “I agree to trade a handful of my hair for the grass from your throne. Your majesty.” He bowed.

The king laughed, like sparks of sunlight reflected on the water. “Very courtly of you, brave knight. But no. Your dun tresses will not satisfy. I will only trade gold for gold.”

“But - ”

“It’s ok,” Jennet said. She stepped forward and dipped her knees again in a half-curtsey. “I will offer a lock of my hair in exchange for some grass from your throne.”

“Jen,” Tam hissed at her. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t leave a part of yourself in Feyland again.”

“He won’t take your hair, Tam, much as you want him to. We have to make the ointment for Marny. This is the only way.”

Puck nodded vigorously at her words, then jabbed Tam in the leg with a sharp finger. “Quiet now,” he said. “The Bright King speaks.”

The king rose, his silken robes glimmering as though made of liquid light. He fixed his deep eyes on Jennet and she felt giddy, as if she’d sipped something extra-bubbly and dizzy-making.

“Bear witness, Bright Court of the fey,” he said, his voice rolling through the clearing. “These two mortals offer a bargain - a lock of Fair Jennet’s golden hair in trade for a handful of golden grass from my throne. It is a fair trade. I agree to it.”

Tam’s eyes were full of worried questions, but before he could say anything, the king continued.

“Puck, prove your use on this instance and bear the vessels of this bargain.”

The sprite nodded, then leaped into the air. Hovering beside the faerie maiden, he took the golden boxes, one in each narrow hand. The maiden smiled - like the sun seen through mist - and opened the ornate lids.

Music flurried through the clearing - the harper was now playing a lively jig. The watching fey-folk leaned forward, or took to the air for a better view, competing with the bright fire of the pixies.

Puck and the king’s handmaiden descended to stand, or hover in Puck’s case, just before Jennet and Tam. The tempo of the music increased, the harper now joined by a flute player weaving silvery sprays of notes into the tune.

“All is in readiness,” the king said. “Bold Tamlin, pluck you a handful of grass. Peaseblossom, shear you a lock of Fair Jennet’s hair. Mortals, prepare yourselves.”

Tam shot her a worried look. Yeah, she wasn’t too thrilled about it either, but it had to be done. She tried to ignore the wild beating of her heart.

“Ready,” she said.

The faerie maiden lifted a strand of Jennet’s hair with pale, delicate fingers. Tam went down on one knee and took hold of a tuft of grass. Snip - the silver shears cut effortlessly. There was a brief tearing sound, and Tam stood, brightness cupped in his palm.

“Together, now,” Puck said, holding up the boxes. “Place them inside, one to each.”

Human hand and fey deposited their treasures. There was a flash of bright light, a sudden quietude, and Jennet blinked. The boxes were both closed, their contents hidden, but she had no doubt the king would keep his word.

“It is a powerful binding,” Puck said, sounding subdued. “Use what you have won, posthaste, else you will find naught but a collection of dry leaves. Faerie gold will not last the night.”

He handed Jennet the box containing the faerie grass. The lid was closed, and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to open it just yet. Soon though - once they got back to the real world. The faerie maiden took the other container and returned to the king’s side.

“A fine bargain,” the king said, taking the box from his handmaiden. He stroked it with his fingers and gave Jennet a look she couldn’t decipher. “Now, mortals, farewell.”

The pearly light flared again, then deepened to a swirl of gold. Dizziness clenched Jennet’s stomach and the world tipped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam swallowed hard as the queasy light surrounded him. The king was kicking them back into the real world, and he couldn’t say he was sorry. If he never entered another faerie court again, it would be too soon.

After a moment, the whirling stopped, and he could see Jennet’s gaming room through the tinted screen of his sim helmet. In the chair beside him, Jennet stirred. He sat upright and pulled off his helmet.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

He hadn’t liked the way she acted around the Bright King. It reminded him of his own fascination with the midnight beauty of the Dark Queen - an enthrallment that had almost been his downfall. No way was he going to let Jennet succumb to the same thing, even if he had to hold her down and smear faerie ointment all over her eyelids.

“More than all right.” She thrust out her hand. “Look!”

There, in her palm, was the golden box holding the grass from the faerie king’s throne. It looked rich and strange, even in the opulence of the Carter’s fancy house. Knotwork designs scrolled around the edges, and the metal had a soft sheen that seemed completely out of place in the modern world.

“It looks like it should be in a museum,” he said.

“I know.” Still holding the box, she took her helmet off. Her shorn piece of hair just brushed her cheek. “Should we open it?”

“Let’s get everything together for the ointment, first.”

He fished in his pocket and pulled out the plastic bag, which was a little crumpled from riding around with him all morning. Inside, the four-leaf clover lay, limp as a dead thing. But it would still work - it had to.

Jennet gave the wilted clover a doubtful look. “All right. I have everything else in my bathroom. We can make the ointment in there.”

He glanced at the clock in the corner, hoping the day hadn’t flown while they were in-game. He’d hate to have to explain to Jennet’s dad why he was locked in the bathroom with her.

He blinked at the readout, then turned to Jennet. “Is your clock set right?”

“Of course.” She looked over to it, and her eyes widened. “Really? All of that only took an hour?”

“Time’s funny in-game, we both know that.” Though this was severely weirder than usual.

She let out a breath. “We have plenty of time to make the ointment and get back to Marny before school’s out. Come on.”

She led the way down the hall, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps. Halfway to the main stairs, she turned left and opened the first door.

“It’s a little messy,” she said. “Hold on a sec.”

Tam trailed her into a bathroom that was as big as his living room-slash-bedroom at home. Dark-veined marble floors were softened with fancy patterned rugs, and there was a long countertop with two sinks. The counter was cluttered with girly stuff - mysterious bottles of pink and orange liquids, hair bands and barrettes, tubes of who-knew-what. The air smelled of soap, and flowers. Two hairbrushes and a comb lay next to one of the sinks, which seemed like more than enough.

He looked at her fine, pale hair for a moment. Well, maybe she needed two hairbrushes and a comb - what did he know? No question she had the prettiest hair he’d ever seen. The Bright King had certainly thought it a fair trade for magical faerie grass. The thought made him scowl.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her anxious smile reflected in the mirror. “I’ll get this cleared away.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I was just thinking about something else.”

Like how he’d wanted to charge at the king with his sword drawn. Probably not the best move, but it would have been momentarily satisfying.

Jennet swept a bunch of her stuff into the drawers beside the sink. She swiped the counter with a fluffy white towel, then pulled open a cabinet concealed by one of the mirrors. Taking out a few items, she lined them up on the counter - a jar of tiny green leaves, another full of curly orange petals, and a container of knobby nuts.

“Our ingredients. Thyme, marigold, and hazelnut.” Carefully, she set the golden box beside them. “And grass from a faerie throne.”

Hard won, too. Was it worth the cost?

Tam laid his four-leaf clover bag on the counter. “That’s everything,” he said. “Now what?”

“Now, we get creative.”

She pushed her sleeves up, then opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a white bowl and a weird stick, both made out of marble. She handed the items to him.

“What are they?” He picked up the stick thing - it was heavy, and rounded on one end.

“A mortar and pestle, silly. You use them to grind up herbs. Here.” She shook some of the thyme leaves into the bowl. “Grind.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” He set the rounded end in the bowl and rocked it back and forth, trying to break up the tiny green herbs. A pungent smell tickled his nostrils.

“I’m not sure of anything, but we have to try. Now, the marigold.”

She added a handful of the orange petals, and a different tang joined the mix as he crushed them into the thyme. A greenish-brown paste was beginning to form in the bottom of the bowl, but it barely looked smearable. He bit his tongue on more questions. Clearly, Jennet had some idea of what they were doing.

“Hm.” She pressed her lips together, lifted the bag of nuts, then set it back down. “What’s next, hazelnuts or the clover?”

“Nuts? Since we only have one clover.” He didn’t know why that made sense, but it did.

She nodded and dropped three nuts in. They were harder to grind. One flew into the sink with a clack, and Jennet fished it out. She put it back in the bowl, and frowned at the mess of broken nuts and half-crushed herbs inside.

“Do you have a blender?” he asked. “That might be a lot easier.”

“Easier, maybe, but does using electricity for this feel right to you? Besides, I don’t want to be in the kitchen, where Marie could see us and ask questions.”

“Fair enough.” Anything that kept him away from Marie was fine by him.

He pounded for a while longer, then took a look at their handiwork. “It’s not very ointmenty.”

“I know.” She stared at their concoction for a minute, a frown bending her eyebrows. “We need something else. Something to help it stick together.”

Tam glanced around the bathroom. “Soap? Lotion? Um, shampoo?”

“Not pure enough. Wait! I know. Stay here - I’ll be right back.”

Like he was going anywhere. He nodded, but Jennet was already out of the room. Ok then - back to mortaring, or pestleing, or whatever the verb was.

She returned a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of something golden and viscous.

“Olive oil.” She held it up with a smile. “This should totally work.”

“If you think so,” he said. “Let’s do the other stuff, and add the oil at the end. A little at a time, until it’s the right consistency.”

“Good idea.” She set the bottle on the counter. “Clover’s next.”

She opened the bag and coaxed out the four-leaf clover. It mushed pretty well into the mixture, though the bits of nuts were still kind of coarse.

“Faerie grass?” he said.

She took a deep breath. “All right. Here we go.”

Slowly, she lifted the lid of the golden box. A soft glow illuminated her face, shimmered over her pale hair. He peeked over her shoulder, aware of the heat of her body, the soft smell of flowers rising from her hair.

Inside the box, the handful of grass shone, strands of spun gold. Like something from an old fairy tale with a goblin and a princess. Hard to believe, but they were in a faerie tale - though this was no story he’d ever heard of.

Jennet picked up the grass and put it into the bowl. It glimmered, looking strange and magical against the glop.

“Do I grind it?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.” She stared at the mortar and pestle a second, her blue eyes intent. “Just a guess, but I think we try the oil now.”

“So far, your guesses have turned out pretty good.”

He held out the bowl, keeping his hands steady as she tipped the bottle. She poured a small dollop of olive oil into the mixture. As soon as the liquid touched the faerie grass, it began to dissolve, imbuing the oil with a faint but unmistakable golden glow. Then the herb and nut mixture began to change, the greenish-grey paste turning a rich jade color. The oil seeped down, gold on green. Tam felt a faint breath of warm wind against his neck and the sweet scent of the Bright Court swirled about them.

Jennet pulled a spoon out of her back pocket - something way fancier than any of the battered utensils Tam used at home. Probably pure silver, or maybe even platinum. She dipped it into the bowl, stirring once, twice, three times. Widdershins, he noticed. The mixture flared, and he swore he heard the faint, chiming laughter of pixies.

“I think we did it,” Jennet said. Her voice trembled a little. “That was… magic.”

“Right here in your bathroom.” He studied the ointment, now a smooth, emerald-green concoction. “It looks good.”

She pulled a jar from one of the drawers, wiped it inside with a tissue, then held it out. “Pour it in here.”

He nodded and tipped the bowl. The contents flowed slowly down into the jar, leaving only a slight residue behind. He lifted the glass jar. The ointment glittered, jade green, with flecks of golden dust suspended in the light.

“One jar of faerie ointment,” he said.

“Whew. That was a little more complicated than I thought it would be.”

She leaned back against the counter and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was the piece the faerie maiden had cut, so a second later it swung free again, brushing her cheek. She pushed it irritably away again.

“Hold still,” he said.

He opened the top drawer she’d dumped her stuff in earlier and fished out a blue barrette. Without thinking too much about it - otherwise he’d completely lose his nerve - he gathered up the loose strand of her hair and secured it with the barrette. Damn, her hair was the softest thing he’d ever felt.

She smiled at him, then set her hands on his waist and drew him close, closer, until their bodies were touching. Heart thumping, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. He could feel the shape of her smile. He pressed his mouth more firmly against hers, and she sighed.

This was even better than their first kiss, though his nerves still trembled at the fact that he was holding her, Jennet Carter, in his arms. Her breath was warm across his mouth. He deepened the kiss, and her hands tightened around his back.

Sparks flew through him, like the golden flecks scattered in the ointment they had just made. He could stay here forever, in the safety of her bathroom, kissing.

But they had the little matter of the world to save.

After another long, perfect moment, he drew back. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” She sounded breathless, and he knew the feeling. “Let’s go out the back. I convinced George this was a one-time emergency, but Marie won’t be so easy. I’d rather not run into her.”

“Me either.” He could just imagine the scene, if the house manager caught them. At least the chauffeur didn’t seem to mind keeping their secrets.

Jennet leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, then let go of him and grabbed the jar of ointment. “Too bad the hardest part is still to come.”

Tam raised his brows. Seemed like winning their way to the Bright Court, bargaining with the king, and then figuring out how to make the ointment had been more than enough.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She made a face. “Getting the faerie ointment on Marny.”

CHAPTER THIRTY - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet waited for Marny outside the science room door after third bell. The jar of faerie ointment was tucked in her satchel, practically vibrating with importance. She hadn’t been joking when she told Tam this was going to be the hardest part. She’d rather face a dozen more fiery-eyed creatures than try to apply the faerie ointment to Marny.

Too bad it had to be put on the eyelids. She’d thought of mixing it with eye-shadow and giving Marny a make-over, but that was so not the big girl’s style. And explaining? Marny wouldn’t believe them, and then she’d be far too wary.

Jennet curled her fingers into her palms and scanned the passing students. It would have to be plan B, and she’d only get one chance to make this work. She spotted Marny, walking behind a clump of noisy seniors. Jennet waited for them to pass, then stepped out and grabbed her friend’s arm.

“Hey, Jennet,” Marny said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing?”

“Ahh, my stomach,” Jennet gasped, hunching over. “Help me to the bathroom. Please.”

Marny slung an arm around her, supporting her. “Don’t you think you ought to go to the nurse?”

Maybe she was overdoing it. Jennet straightened up a little. “No - it’s only, uh, cramps. I just need a hand getting down the hall.”

Marny raised her eyebrows, but helped guide Jennet to the girl’s bathroom at the end of the corridor. Once inside, Jennet leaned against the wall and opened her satchel.

“Could you get me a drink of water?” she asked, handing Marny her water bottle. “I’ve got some pain meds in here that will help.”

Marny took the bottle and turned away. While she was at the sink, Jennet surreptitiously opened the jar of faerie ointment and dipped her finger in.

“Here.” Marny returned and held out the water.

“Great.” Jennet gave her a weak smile. “Hey, what’s that by your eye?”

“What?” The other girl rubbed her hand over her face. “Which eye?”

“Close your eye and let me get it.”

When Marny obediently leaned forward, Jennet took her ointmented finger and swiped it across her friend’s left eyelid.

“Hey!” Marny leaped back. “What the hell? It’s all greasy - what’d you do that for?”

“Let me do your other eye, too,” Jennet said. “And then I’ll explain.”

Marny scowled and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Fancy-girl. How about you just explain.”

She pulled a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and rubbed her eye.

“Wait - don’t rub it all off!”

“You’re insane.” Marny crumpled the towels and threw them in the trash. “Now, talk.”

Jennet pressed her lips together. Had she put enough on? Would the ointment work on only one eye, or did it have to be both?

“It’s about Roy Lassiter - ”

“I knew it.” Marny crossed her arms. “This is some Viewer prank of yours, isn’t it? Tell me, does my eye turn all black in a few minutes? Maybe red dye starts running down my face? Nice try, Jennet. You and your weak tricks.” She made a simpering face, and pitched her voice high. “Oh, help me to the bathroom, oh I’m feeling sick. Pfft. Stay away from me, rich girl.”

She pushed past Jennet’s outstretched hand and stalked out.

“Marny! Wait…”

Great. That had gone tweaked, and Jennet hadn’t even explained what the ointment was for. With a deep sigh, she screwed the lid of the jar closed. The next bell blared through the bathroom, a harsh, metallic sound like the caw of an iron raven.

On top of everything else, she was late for her next class.

“Well?” Tam leaned across the cafeteria table, impatience in every line of his body. “Did it work? Is Marny cured?”

“I don’t know.” Jennet set her tray down with a clunk.

Too bad the school didn’t allow people to bring their own lunch, since the food here was pretty much inedible.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Look, Tam, I tried. I got the ointment onto one of her eyes, but she stormed off before I could explain anything.”

“Huh.” He sat back. “When was this?”

“Right before last period. I hoped we’d see her at lunch, and…well, find out.”

“There she is,” Tam said in a low voice. “Walking into the cafeteria with Team Lassiter.”

Jennet looked over. Sure enough, a besotted-looking Marny was among Roy’s usual gaggle of girls. Though, while Jennet watched, Marny rubbed her left eye, and for a second her expression of Roy-worship wavered.

Maybe the ointment was working, after all - though there was no guarantee. They’d done their best, but some of the ingredients had been sketchy. What would they do if the ointment failed?

Jennet chewed her food, but paid no attention to what she was eating.

“Look,” she said to Tam. “Marny’s rubbing her eye again. Now watch her face.”

Tam half-turned. “Yeah - something’s getting through. Come on, Marny, you can do it.” He swiveled back to Jennet. “I bet if you got some on her other eye - ”

“Let’s give it a little more time.” She really didn’t relish a repeat of the scene in the bathroom. Besides, Marny would never fall for that trick again. “Stop turning around. Come sit by me so you can see.”

“Alright.” He slid around the corner of the table and leaned his arm companionably close to hers.

The contact shouldn’t have made her so happy, but it did. Little waves of delight washed through her. Tam had issues, but they were figuring things out. Patience, that was the key. And maybe more kisses…

“Jennet,” he said, “stop looking at me. We’re supposed to be watching Marny.”

“Um, yeah.” She felt heat flush into her cheeks as she turned her attention to Roy’s table.

Marny was watching Roy with an odd expression. She tilted her head and closed her left eye, then opened both eyes wide. Then she closed her right eye, leaving only the ointment-smeared one open. Her eyebrows rose and a frown slid across her lips.

“Score,” Tam whispered.

As if she’d heard him, Marny’s gaze went directly to their table. She saw them watching, and her scowl deepened. Still with one eye closed, she tapped Roy on the shoulder, said a few words, then got up and left. He watched her go, a perplexed look on his face. Then the perky blond girl on his other side tugged at his arm, and he turned to her, smiling.

“So.” Marny’s voice was hard. She stood at the end of their table, hands fisted on her hips. “How about that explanation.”

“Sit down,” Tam said. “And you can open your other eye, by the way. I promise Jennet and I will look exactly the same.”

Marny took the spot across from them. “I’m waiting.”

“It’s complicated,” Jennet said.

“How about this,” Tam said. “Tell us what you see out of your left eye, as opposed to your right. Then we’ll know what to explain.”

Marny’s lips twisted. “Ok. Before now, Roy Lassiter was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. I mean ever. Not only that, he was special. He made me feel amazing, just being around him. Somehow, Jennet ruined that.”

“Yeah, by making you see what’s really going on,” Tam said.

“What if it’s the reverse?” Marny’s eyes narrowed. “What if you guys are the ones playing tricks?”

Jennet let out a low breath. Trust Marny to never blindly accept - though she had been blind where Roy was concerned.

“Believe us or not,” she said. “But here’s the truth. Roy’s been using…well, the best explanation is magic, to enchant the people around him. What I put on your eyelid was a special ointment that let you see past the glamour he cast.”

“I liked the way things were.” Marny still sounded pissed, though there was an edge of uncertainty in her voice.

“Come on, Marny,” Tam said. “You always prefer the truth, no matter how pretty the lie is.”

Marny frowned and glanced at the front table. She chewed on her bottom lip, and Jennet could see her wrestling with the idea. Slowly, she closed her right eye, and her shoulders slumped.

“Fine,” she said. “You guys win. Roy Lassiter is nothing special.”

Jennet laid her hand on her friend’s arm in silent sympathy.

“It gets worse,” Tam said. “Roy is draining the energy from his girlfriends. Like when Keeli collapsed. We were afraid you were next.”

Marny made a disbelieving noise in her throat.

“Really,” Jennet said. “That time, at Roy’s, he was trying it on you. Don’t you remember? That’s why I got you out of there so fast.”

Marny sat up straight. Her gaze moved from Jennet to Tam. “You guys think you’re telling the truth, don’t you?”

“We are!” Jennet said.

Tam leaned forward. “Let’s try this. You’ve played Feyland, right?”

“Yeah, and hated it.” Marny folded her arms. “What’s the game got to do with this?”

“Feyland’s more than a game,” Jennet said. “Remember the fight we had with the chimera?”

Marny made a face. “I’ve tried to forget every wasted moment in that sim.”

“Well, don’t. The chimera had two heads. One spit fire, the other poison.”

“I remember.” The big girl waved her hand impatiently. “Get to the point.”

“Some poison dripped on your arm in-game, during the fight.”

“So?”

“So, roll up your sleeve.”

“You two are severely insane.” Marny shook her head. “I had an allergic reaction to something at Roy’s. Jennet’s making way too much out of this.”

“Just do it,” Tam said. “Please. It’s not like we’re asking you to take your clothes off in the middle of the cafeteria.”

“Fine. But I still think you’re drinking the crazy water.” She pushed up the sleeve of her purple sweatshirt and held out her arm. “There. A couple hives, that’s all.”

Jennet studied her friend’s arm for a long moment. The line of five round marks still looked red and painful.

“Come on,” Tam said. “That’s not hives, it’s burns.”

“Wait a sec.” Marny lifted her marred arm. “I remember, all right. I spilled my mocha on myself, at Roy’s.”

Jennet shook her head. “No - but he wanted you to think so. Marny, look at your arm. Do you actually think spilling a mocha on yourself - one you’d already been drinking - would leave marks like that?”

Marny’s brows drew together under the straight black fringe of her bangs. Slowly, she pulled her sleeve back down.

“I’m gonna have to think about this.”

“Fair enough,” Tam said. “It took me a while to get used to the idea, too.”

Jennet nodded. She remembered her own world-tilting shock when she finally realized that what happened in Feyland was real.

“You have to stay away from Roy.” Jennet glanced to the front of the cafeteria, where he was still distracted by the blond girl.

“Maybe.” Marny folded her arms, keeping the marked one close to her body.

“Actually,” Tam said, a thoughtful note in his voice, “It might not be a bad thing if Marny keeps hanging with Lassiter. I’d like to keep him a little confused, at least until we figure out what to do.”

“Well, you two can keep plotting the fate of the world over here.” Marny got to her feet. “I’m going to finish my lunch. Not that it’s delicious or anything.”

Without saying goodbye, she strode back to Roy’s table. The smile she gave him seemed genuine.

Great. Jennet tried to push down the despair uncurling inside her. She glanced at Tam, seeing an echo of her own mood in his expression.

“That was less than flawless,” she said. “Now what?”

He raked a hand through his hair, letting it fall messily back over his eyes. “I think, for Marny, we just wait. And the game… can we break into VirtuMax? Can we use your dad’s work pass to get into company headquarters?”

“And do what? Even if we hack the systems, or firebomb the place, that won’t stop Feyland from eventually being released.” She dug her fingernails into the pad of her thumb. “No - the answer has to be in-game. Somewhere.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam didn’t want to head home after school - half in fear of seeing Mom teetering on the edge, half because of the restlessness running under his skin.

He and Jennet watched as Marny boarded the school bus, alone. At least she was safe. Lassiter went off with his newest spark - the blond girl. There was nothing they could do about that, though Jennet suggested tackling her and holding her down while they smeared ointment on her eyes.

He’d been tempted, but no. At this point they didn’t have enough proof the ointment worked. And even if it did, where did that leave them? Lassiter still had a whole school to pick his victims from.

Tam wanted to spend more time with Jennet - like a plant yearning for the sun - but she had to go. Since Tam had gone into that coma, Jennet’s dad had scheduled her for regular health checkups, just in case. Not that the docs ever found anything wrong, but she couldn’t skip an appointment without getting in trouble - and they had enough trouble right now.

Not thinking too much about where he was going, Tam ended up at Zeg’s. The owner took one look at him, gave him a wave, and left him alone.

It was easy to lose a few hours playing Madkartz, racing fiendishly convoluted tracks that absorbed his attention until, at last, he surfaced. Played out - for now. He set aside the sim helmet and wandered into the front room. Not many customers in the place this afternoon. This evening, he amended, with a glance outside at the darkening sky.

“Want something?” Zeg asked from behind the counter.

“Nah, I need to get home.”

“Hold up. Marny messaged, looking for you, and I told her you were here. She’s on her way.”

“She is?” That could be bad, or good. Tam slid onto one of the stools fronting the counter and started messing with the paper napkin holder.

“Here.” Zeg put a cup of hot tea in front of him, something steaming and minty.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the honey and stirred a big dollop in, since this was probably dinner.

“Anything to keep you from reprogramming my napkin holders.” Zeg smiled from inside his bushy beard, then looked over as the front door swung open. “There’s my girl.”

He came out from behind the counter to give Marny a hug. A bear hug, of course.

“Hi, Uncle Zeg,” Marny said when she emerged from his embrace. “Thanks for…” She tipped her head at Tam.

“Let me get you some tea. It’s frosty out there tonight.”

“That would be great.”

She pulled off her fuzzy mittens, then her coat. Without really looking at Tam, she took the stool next to him. Before the silence between them strained into something more serious, Zeg slid his niece a mug of tea.

“There you are. Now I better go check the kitchen. Get talking.” He gave them a wink, then headed through the swinging door.

“So subtle,” Marny said, rolling her eyes.

“Part of his charm. So - what’s up? I need to get home.”

Marny twisted her mouth to the side, as if she’d bitten a lemon. “I owe you and Fancy-girl an apology. I guess you guys were right.”

Tam sat up a little straighter. “Apologizing to me doesn’t get you out of talking to Jennet.”

“I know. But I didn’t want to wait.” Her gaze dropped to her mug of tea. She played with the handle, rotating the mug back and forth. Back and forth. “I didn’t want to believe you. When I said Roy made me feel special - well, I didn’t want to have to lose that. If I kept one eye shut, I could at least pretend.”

“Pretending’s never as good as the real thing.” He should know.

“It was never even real.” Marny sounded more vulnerable than he’d ever heard her.

“Hey. Just because Lassiter was playing you, doesn’t mean you’re not something special. It’s too bad nobody else in this town is awake enough to see it.”

She gave a snort, sounding more like her old self. “What, you’re suggesting I need to go to the city in order for anyone to notice me? Or should I leave the country altogether?”

“You’re the strongest person I know. I mean it. Too strong for Crestview High, that’s for sure. But Marny, you know that.”

“Yeah.” She sighed and set her chin in her hand. “But I’m tired of having to fight for every inch. Why can’t it be sparkly and easy for once?”

“Because sparkly and easy isn’t for people like us.” Tam took a gulp of his tea, trying to wash down the bitter words.

She cocked one eyebrow. “Do you really think easy is for anybody? I mean, from the outside, things might look great - but our own problems cut us the most.”

His felt razor-sharp, that was for sure. But was it any better for Jennet? He had some idea of her problems, but, like Marny said, only from the outside. Even Lassiter probably had issues. Becoming the Bright King’s tool - there had to be reasons.

“There you go,” Tam said. “All the answers again. Quit being so smart.”

“Smartass, you mean.” Marny looked at him, the beginnings of a genuine smile in her eyes.

“That goes without saying.”

She grinned at him. “So, got any more of that stuff Jennet put on my eye? Going around like this is making me dizzy.”

“It’s faerie ointment - and Jennet’s got the jar. I’m sure she’d be happy to smear you up first thing tomorrow.”

“Ok.” She sipped her tea. “I get that there’s some freaky sort of… something going on here. But really, Tam - faeries? Glittery pink winged things?”

He shook his head. “Not those kind of faeries. We’re talking dangerous, mysterious, nasty creatures. I’ll show you.”

He bent, pulled Tales of Folk and Faerie out of his backpack, and set it on the counter between them. One of these days he was going to have to remember to give it back to Jennet.

He paged through, pausing at the picture of Wicked Peg, the water hag, complete with green pond-weed hair and pointy teeth. A few more pages brought him to the Wild Hunt. A shiver went through him, remembering how it felt to be pursued by those red-eyed hounds and menacing riders.

“Hold up.” Marny set her hand on the illustration. “This hunt - it has someone blowing a horn, and dogs and things. Right?”

“Yeah.” Not to mention a terrifying dark figure with huge antlers on his head - the huntsman that led the pack.

Her brows drew together. “About a month ago, around Halloween, there was some creepy stuff going on, late at night. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear it, too - though it was during the time you’d, um, gone missing for a few days. Anyway, I asked Jennet about it, and she was pretty evasive.”

Tam wrapped his hands tightly around his mug of tea. “That was the Wild Hunt.”

The eerie sounds had echoed over the Exe, waking him from a fitful sleep. At first he’d been sure the hunt was after him - but when they moved off, he knew they were seeking Jennet. That had been a rough night.

Marny tapped the page with her finger. “So, somehow the things in here are coming to life?”

“Not exactly. Feyland is based on the book and, well, it’s like a gateway. It’s connected to the Realm of Faerie, and the realm is breaking through, affecting real life.”

He expected Marny to slam the book closed and shove it back at him, reacting with the same disbelief he had when Jennet first tried to explain. But to her credit, Marny pursed her lips and drew Tales of Folk and Faerie closer, flipping slowly through the pages.

“Who’s this?” she asked, tilting the page so he could see.

The midnight gaze of the Dark Queen stared back at him - stars snared in her hair, her dress wisps of cloud and moonlight. Tam’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment he smelled roses, tasted burnt sugar on his tongue. A terrible yearning swamped him, followed by the icy touch of fear. He was done with the Dark Queen. Wasn’t he?

“Hello - Tam?” Marny waved her hand in front of his eyes.

He yanked his gaze from the book. “Yeah, sorry. Um, that’s the Dark Queen.”

“Hm.” She gave him a considering look, but didn’t push it. She was good at knowing when to back off. “Feyland truly is affecting the real world? My arm, and whatever’s with Roy? And… the stuff going on with you and Jennet last month, right? That, may I say, almost killed you.”

“Yeah, basically.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

“So - what are we going to do?”

He studied her a moment. It would be good to have Marny on the team - but she didn’t like to sim, and she still didn’t understand everything that was going on. Not that he did, but at least he and Jennet had more to go on.

He looked out the windows. Night had fallen, the pale orange streetlights doing little to push back the dense darkness. “I need to get home. We can fix up your eye and talk more tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

He grabbed Jennet’s book and tucked it in his pack, then slid off the stool and headed for the door.

“Hey, Tam.”

“Yeah?” He turned, to see Marny’s concerned expression.

“Be careful.”

“I always am.”

As careful as he could be, living in the Exe. Not to mention fighting off evil faeries that wanted to take over the world.

Still, he paid extra attention making his way home. The back of his neck prickled, like something was watching him, but no fey creatures rushed at him out of the night.

The yellow light coming from their windows cheered him more than he wanted to admit, and he took the stairs two at a time. Inside, it was reasonably warm, and smelled of frying synthi-meat. The Bug leaped on him, and Mom smiled from the kitchen. Everything was all right.

So why did he have the feeling serious trouble was just waiting to break loose?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - THE BRIGHT COURT

“Your father has arrived home,” HANA said, interrupting Jennet’s homework. “He requires your presence in the living room.”

Great. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

After a short pause, HANA said, “I have notified him.”

When Jennet reached the living room, her dad was sitting on the couch. He looked tired as usual, his eyebrows pulled into a nearly perpetual frown. Getting moved off of Feyland hadn’t been good for him. Neither had swimming against the company tide, and it seemed the company-mandated psych sessions weren’t doing much to help.

He glanced at her. “Come in and sit down, Jen. We need to talk.”

She perched on her chair like it was the edge of a cliff. “What’s going on?”

“It’s come to my attention that you and Tam have been using the Full-D systems. Which you know are off limits.”

She swallowed and clenched her fingers together. “Dad, we had to. You have no idea what’s at stake! Feyland can affect the real world - we can’t let the game be released.”

“So by breaking the rules and using the Full-D, you’re saving the world?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid Tam’s not welcome here any more.”

“What?” Panic squeezed her chest. “But… he has to come over.”

If she and Tam couldn’t go in-game, how could they possibly find a solution? They’d saved Marny - but what about everybody else?

“I can’t trust you.” Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “If Tam comes over again, there will be serious consequences.”

“When Feyland is released, there will be serious consequences for every person who plays it! Dad, you have to believe me. Please… just come in-game.”

He gave her a tired look. “At least it looks like our hardware is fixed - since neither you nor Tam required hospitalization after playing.”

“I told you, it’s not the system, it’s the Realm of Faerie - ”

“This is the modern world, not some fairytale.”

“But - ”

He held up one hand. “Jennet, listen to me. The company is scheduling the beta-testing for Feyland. And I’ve volunteered to be a tester for the game.”

“You have?” She sucked in a breath. Suddenly the tables were turned, and she didn’t like it one bit. “But… what if you get hurt?”

“I won’t - because I’m starting to believe Dr. Lassiter is right. A couple of the early prototypes had neural interface issues, but the company has worked everything out. And if there are problems, I’ll be right there, willing to speak up.”

Worry settled in the pit of her stomach, like she’d swallowed tar. She couldn’t talk Dad out of playing - especially not when she’d just been begging him to. And maybe, just maybe, he’d see she was right. She let out her breath.

“When does beta-testing start?” she asked.

“In another week. Now, do I have your promise that Tam won’t come over again?”

If she didn’t agree, he’d probably do something even more drastic, like forbid her to see Tam at all. Or ship her back to Prep, her old school, as a boarding student.

“All right.” The words tasted sour in her mouth.

A solution seemed as far away as the moon, but she and Tam had to figure out some way to keep playing. They had to break the Bright King’s power and shut off the connection between Feyland and the Realm of Faerie. Permanently.

Jolted from a deep sleep, Jennet opened her eyes, but it was too dark to see anything. What had woken her? She turned to look at the glowing numerals on her clock - but it wasn’t there.

In fact, she wasn’t even lying in her bed, but on something velvety and way too soft. Fear washed over her, kicking her heartbeat up and winding her breath tight.

Relax. Breathe. It’s just a bad dream. Any second now, she’d wake up. She kept her eyes shut, trying to ignore the faint chiming in her ears. Wake up. Wake up.

Warm air surrounded her, scented with flowers. Then brightness, red against her closed eyelids. A high, bright laugh, quickly smothered.

Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, whatever-it-was would just go away.

“Fair Jennet, why do you feign sleep, when our king awaits?” The voice was familiar - the sweet tones of the Bright King’s handmaiden.

Dread squeezed through her - she couldn’t deny the knowledge any longer. She was in the Bright Court. But how?

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. As she’d feared, there was the luminous pearl high overhead, the fantastical gemmed trees. And the dais where the Bright King sat, watching her. His silvery gaze was fathomless, and a faint smile etched his handsome, severe face. Fear shivered through her bones.

Pushing away the silken coverlet, she sat up. A quick check confirmed she was wearing the tank-top and flannel pj pants she went to sleep in.

She was in Feyland. For real, this time. A cold wave of dread washed over her.

“Welcome again to my court, Fair Jennet,” the king said. “You grace us with your mortal beauty.”

“How did I get here?” And how could she get out? She was afraid of the answer.

“As you used that which you took from my realm, so I summoned you.” He nodded to his handmaiden, who held up a dainty golden box.

The twin of that box was currently sitting on her bathroom counter. She swallowed, and tried to project a confidence she didn’t feel.

“Well, I appreciate the invite, but I can’t stay long.”

Laughter shimmered over the gathered fey-folk, and the pixies flew in mirthful spirals. She had the hollow feeling she didn’t have much choice in the matter. If only Tam were there, he would know what to do. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think.

The king had used his magic to bypass the interface of the game altogether - his power was growing way too strong. How was she going to get back? Despite the warm air, she felt chilled to the core.

“You will stay as long as I wish it. Am I not the ruler here? Come, Fair Jennet, and sit beside me.”

When he beckoned to her, her body rose, pulled to standing against her will.

“Hey!” she cried, “stop it.”

She tried to sit back down again, but it hurt - like ramming her head on a concrete wall. After a second, she gave up, tears of pain blurring her vision. The king smiled in satisfaction as he watched her walk to the dais and settle upon the golden grasses.

Ok, calm down. She took a shaky breath. Her body wasn’t under her control, but at least her mind was. And her mouth. Still, it wouldn’t do any good to insult the Bright King or rail against him. She had to play this smart, and that included not insulting her host. Yet, anyway. She didn’t even have any weapons, so challenging him to a duel was out. It would have to be a battle of wits.

So, what did she know that could help her? Anything about escaping the Realm of Faerie?

The fey-folk loved stories, if she remembered it right from her book. And somehow, Roy managed to freely come and go from the Bright Court - if only in his avatar form. Maybe Roy’s adventures would hold a clue to her freedom, if she could get the king to talk.

“Will you tell me a tale, your majesty?” she asked.

The king raised his thin brows. “A tale?”

“Yes. Have other mortals visited your court? I mean, recently?”

At that, he threw his head back and laughed, a crystalline sound that set the bejeweled trees clinking.

“A tale of a mortal in my court? Methinks you do not mean Burd Ellen, who visited nary a handful of moons ago - yet centuries in your fragile, mortal time.”

“Never heard of her.”

Although… the name tickled her memory. Something she’d read in her old book, a scrap of story or ballad. She pressed her lips together, trying to chase down the wisp of recognition. No luck - it was gone.

“Fair Jennet, I know it is the tale of the Royal one you seek. His reflection is in your eyes, though it is Bold Tamlin who holds your heart.”

She stiffened, as much as her body would let her. The king saw way too much. “Tell me about Roy.”

“Very well.” The king steepled his fingers together. “It was first a disturbance at the edge of my Realm. I sent one of my guards to investigate, and he returned with the description of a proud young mortal questing too near my lands. I sent the white stag out, to lure him closer. When the stag failed, the dryads aided me, closing the forest behind so that the path here was the only open way. And thus, the Royal one came to my court.”

She wanted to ask him how long ago, but any answer the king gave was useless in terms of human time. At a guess, a few months. Last summer, maybe, around the time she had gone to the Dark Court. It made a sort of twisted, symmetrical sense.

“He claimed to be a prince among humans,” the king continued, “and I took him at his word.”

Right. She blew a puff of air out her nostrils. Trust Roy to always claim the spotlight. Not that she was going to blow the whistle on him right now.

“Okay,” she said. “Did he make some kind of bargain with you?”

That was how it went in the stories - and you had to be very careful when dealing with the faeries. She frowned, wishing she could cross her arms. Seemed like she and Tam hadn’t been cautious enough, trading her hair for the faerie grass. Not as if they’d had a choice.

“Indeed, he did strike a bargain.” The king smiled, painfully bright, like sunlight reflected off a mirror. “In return for his assistance, I bestowed on him a small bit of faerie magic.”

“The power of glamour.”

The Bright King gave her a thoughtful look. “Indeed. I understand now why you desired the grass from my throne. But no matter. The Royal one has proven difficult, of late. Perhaps we shall see what he has to say for himself.”

“Wait,” she said, her stomach knotting. “If you mean to bring Roy here, it’s really not necessary.”

Not what she’d had in mind at all. Things were already way too messy without adding Roy Lassiter to the mix.

“Ah, but it is, Fair Jennet. Just as you carry the echo of the Dark Queen within you, the Royal one is marked by my magic, and he has a reckoning to give. Now, silence.”

The king raised his hands. Brilliance began to coalesce between his palms, shining brighter than the pearl suspended overhead. The king’s control of her body meant she couldn’t even turn her head away from the glare. It was so intense, she had to close her eyes.

The clearing grew quiet, the dryad’s plaintive harping dying away. Even the pixies stilled, their silvery chiming hushed by the greater magic of the king. There was a flash, scarlet behind Jennet’s eyelids, and then dimness.

“Hey! Whoa, what’s going on?” It was Roy, sounding sleepy and confused.

Jennet opened her eyes, to see him sitting on the velvet couch where she had first arrived. He was wearing a white t-shirt and plain boxers.

“Greetings, Royal one,” the king said. “I have summoned you to my court.”

“But it’s, like, the middle of the night.” Roy scrubbed his face with his hands, then looked up. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Jennet. “Jen, you’re here? This is some tweaked dream, for sure.”

She frowned at him. “Not a dream, Roy. Sorry to say.”

“What?” He stood up and kicked the couch. “Ow.”

Grabbing his bare foot, he sat back down. Behind him, the pixies shimmered with mirth, and the faerie maidens laughed. At the edge of the clearing, the harper struck up a lively tune.

Roy looked over at her. “I don’t get it. Why are you even here?”

“An unwise bargain between me and the king,” she said.

He made a face. “Yeah, these guys are tricky to deal with. Sorry you got sucked in. I should have told you Feyland was, uh… different.”

“I already knew, Roy.”

“You did?” He frowned. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because - ”

“Enough of your mortal bickering,” the king said, an edge of fire in his voice. “I am not best pleased, Royal one. Three times now you have failed to uphold the bargain we struck.”

“Your majesty, I’m sorry, but life happens, you know? I’ll do better next time.”

“There will be no next time. The agreement we made is now at an end.” The Bright King stood, suddenly fearsome in his contained fury.

Roy paled. “But, what about my powers? I still have to - ”

“No more.” The king held up his hand. A moment later, a glass sphere containing flickering violet fire appeared in his palm. “This is only half-full, Royal one. You have failed me.”

Jennet bit her lip, trapping her gasp of surprise. The sphere was nearly identical to the one the Dark Queen had used to imprison Jennet’s mortal essence. The king passed his hand over the glass, and the flames leaped up, out of the glass and into his body. For a moment, he was outlined in a freakish violet glow.

“Hey,” Roy said, reaching for the sphere. “I can get more, I swear. Give it back. Just one more chance?”

“No.” The king’s voice was cold. “Your chances are spent, mortal. Our bargain is finished.”

The words hung in the air, then shattered. The sound of breaking glass - the end of a promise made in the realm. Jennet flinched. When she looked at the king again, his hands were empty.

“Um. Ok.” Roy hunched his shoulders. “I guess you can send me back now. And her.” He jerked his head at Jennet.

“It is never that simple. I am still owed the bright flame of humanity, Royal one. You and Fair Jennet will bide with me for some time longer, until that debt is paid. Now - sleep.”

He waved his hand, and Jennet felt her body begin to fold down into the soft grasses of the dais. No! She had to warn Tam. She had to fight the soothing darkness twining around her senses, the sweet lethargy stealing up her limbs. She had to…had to…

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam flinched inside his sleeping bag. Something was pinching him.

“Bug,” he mumbled, “go back to bed and leave me alone.”

“Bold Tamlin,” a high voice piped, “you must wake. Trouble is afoot in the Realm of Faerie.”

Puck! Tam sat upright, the dozy warmth of sleep doused by icy realization. If Puck were here, something was wrong. Provided it really was the sprite, and not some weird dream-fragment. Tam rubbed his eyes. Anxiety clenched his gut when he saw Puck hovering, cross-legged, beside his sleeping bag.

“What is it?” Tam whispered. “And keep your voice down, or you’ll wake my family.”

He glanced over at the blanket-covered lump of the Bug, asleep on the couch. The kid was still snoring.

“Fair Jennet requires aid,” Puck whispered. “The king has brought her to his court - and does not intend to let her go.”

“What? How?” Cold fear sliced through him. “Was she in-game? What time is it?”

The clock in the kitchen shed a greenish glow, and he squinted at the numbers. 1:43. Awfully late for Jennet to be simming.

“She did not enter Feyland by the usual route,” the sprite said. “The king took her from her bed.”

Crap. This was beyond severe.

“How do I get her back?” Keeping one eye on Puck, he started pulling on his clothes.

The sprite cocked his head, his eyes glinting. “That is for you to determine, Tamlin. I merely bring warning. Good luck - and farewell.”

“Wait!” Tam hissed, reaching for the sprite.

Too late. There was only empty air where Puck had been, and the faint echo of chiming bells. Damn, damn, damn.

“Tam?” The Bug turned over. “I heard a thing.”

“Shh, go back to sleep. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

He grabbed his pack and retreated to the bathroom. It was dim and cramped - but private. Tam grabbed the taped-together flashlight from under the sink and clicked it on, ignoring the scuttle of bugs away from the light.

When he’d made his bargain with the Dark Queen, Jennet had saved him by using the words of an old ballad. It was time for him to return the favor - and the only instructions he had for dealing with the Realm of Faerie were in her book.

The back section of Tales of Folk and Faerie held ballads and scraps of tales that were hundreds of years old. He paged through, his heart giving a jolt at the one titled Tam Lin. No - that story had already played out. He needed something different, something about a girl taken by the faeries.

The Golden Ball - no. The Fish and the Ring - not at all. He was running out of pages. Forcing himself to go slowly, he went back and scanned the text as well as the titles.

Midway through the section, the words Open from within, let me in, let me in, jumped out at him with a shock of recognition. One of the rhymes he and Jennet had said to open the door under the hill. This had to be it.

He went to the top of the page and read the title. Childe Rowland - a tale he’d just skimmed over before. The weak flashlight beam wavered across the page. Taking a deep breath, Tam began to read.

For once, the stars were out from behind the clouds, and a thin moon illuminated the frost-covered city. It had taken him almost an hour to get up to the gates of The View. Tam breathed into his hands in an effort to un-numb them. His gloves were half holes, and didn’t do much against the cold.

The gates were closed and locked. No doubt set with an alarm. The high walls encircling the development were studded with razor-sharp spikes. He retreated to a nearby clump of evergreen bushes and huddled down, trying to think.

First, he had to get into The View. Then break into Jennet’s and get to her sim-system, without alerting the house network. Power-up, enter Feyland, and follow the directions the old tale had laid out. Sure.

So many things could go wrong. He felt sick.

Headlights pierced the darkness, and Tam ducked behind the foliage, hoping his brown coat would help camouflage him. A truck pulled up to the gates, Crestview Sanitation written in faded letters on the side. Of course. The maintenance crews would come in at night, so as not to disturb the residents with the sight of their trash being taken away. This was his chance.

He only had a few seconds - the gates were swinging open, the truck’s engine revving. Tam sprinted from his hiding place and leaped for the back of the truck. His chilled fingers scrabbled for purchase. Come on! He reached up, desperately searching for a handhold.

Right before the truck pulled away, his fingers closed over a metal crossbar. Feet dangling, heart pounding, he gritted his teeth and held on. The vehicle sped under the plas-metal arch of The View. Tam held his breath, but no alarms sounded, no guards leaped out to rip him from the truck and slap him in cuffs.

The truck was going too fast for him to let go now, though his shoulders burned from the strain. He had to get off, and soon. Wasn’t there a stop sign up ahead?

Yeah - but apparently it didn’t apply to midnight maintenance vehicles. The truck blew past without even slowing, the sign just a passing blur of red and white. Then they veered around a corner. Tam slammed hard against the edge of the vehicle. His fingers lost their grip, and for a crystalline moment, he was suspended in the air. Flying. Oh, crap.

The ground came up to meet him, and he rolled, trying to break the speed of his fall. He came to a stop halfway on the sidewalk. Breathless, he lay there, staring at the orange halo of the streetlamp above him.

Get up. He had to get up, even if something was broken.

With a groan, he levered himself to standing. No stabbing pain, nothing too serious. He ached all over, though, and his side was going to be one big bruise. He was lucky he’d ended up in somebody’s yard and not wrapped around the streetlamp. His tumble from the truck hadn’t dislodged his access badge, either. Little miracles.

A quick glance at the skyline confirmed his direction. With the city-glow of Crestview on his left, he limped along the street, keeping to the shadows. He’d be able to get to Jennet’s. A lifetime of dodging down alleyways in the Exe had honed his ability to navigate to his destination, no matter how twisty the route.

It took him about ten minutes, and a backtrack from a cul-de-sac with wakeful dogs, to get to the Carter’s mansion. Their fountain was on, even in the middle of the night. He didn’t trust the water for drinking, but pulled off his gloves and splashed a couple icy handfuls on his face to shock away the tiredness. Behind him, three stories of privilege waited, tight as a fortress. How the hell was he going to break in?

The water before him swirled, and for a moment he thought he saw a pale face below the surface. Then the liquid flowed upward, sheening off the body of a beautiful fey woman. He blinked, not as surprised as he should have been to see a faerie in the Carter’s fountain.

“Bold Tamlin,” she said, her speech like the burble of a creek over stones.

“Uh, greetings, water sprite. Do you live here, in this fountain?”

She laughed, showing sharp teeth. “I am the Nixie, and I dwell in all moving water. Bard Thomas sent me to aid you. Come closer.”

She didn’t look trustworthy - but he didn’t have a lot of other options at the moment. And she knew Thomas.

Tam stepped to the edge of the fountain. The Nixie flowed up to him, cupping his face in her cool hands.

“Give me a kiss, and I will give you the code,” she said. Her eyes were deep pools - but he was too wary to fall in.

“Was that part of Thomas’s instructions?”

She scowled and her hands curled against his cheeks, her pointed nails pricking his skin. “Meddling mortal.”

“I’ll take that as a no. How about you just give me the code, whatever it is, and we’ll call it good.”

Her expression grew even more petulant, but she dropped her hands. Water dripped down his chin, tickling, until he wiped it away with his sleeve.

“Very well,” she said with a pout. “I am bid to tell you this. 0173397. Goodbye, foolish human. You had the Nixie in your hands, but let her go.”

With a splash, she plunged back down under the water. It foamed and rippled, then finally cleared. There was just a quiet basin with a few inches of water - no fey creatures lurking in the bottom. The fountain played on, oblivious. Tam swallowed. He’d bet that, with Jennet in the Bright King’s court, the boundaries between the realms were stretching thin. Another reason to get her out of there as soon as possible. Urgency beat through him, banishing the cold.

Under his breath, he repeated the numbers the Nixie had given him, until they were solid. He didn’t think much of Thomas’s messenger, or her methods, but the bard had to work with the dark fey of the Unseelie. He probably had to use what he could get.

0173397. If he were lucky, it was a manual entry code. He turned and faced the Carter’s mansion. The imposing front doors stared back at him - but there was another way in. Nerves jumping, he cut through the side yard and up the plain walkway that led to the back door.

As he’d half-recalled, there was a covered box mounted on the wall. His breath filled the air in shaky white puffs as he flattened himself along the wall. Hands almost numb, he slid open the cover to reveal a keypad. With one stiff finger he tapped out the numbers, then held absolutely still - just a shadow among other shadows. Please, open.

After a heart-clenching second, he heard the click of the interior lock releasing. He gave a gentle push, and the door swung open into the soft, warm dark. Tam slipped inside and pressed the door closed behind him, moving as noiselessly as possible. As long as HANA didn’t open her big mouth, he should be ok. He didn’t think she would, though - she’d never addressed him directly.

But would she wake up Jennet’s dad or the housekeeper? Or was she on her downtime - if house networks even had such a thing. Either way, he had to keep going. He clicked on the flashlight, the dim yellow beam making the house seem like a foreign country he’d never set foot in before. Quietly, he crept up the staircase, then padded along the corridor.

The door to Jennet’s bathroom was slightly ajar, and he could see the golden box reflected in the mirror. It was glowing. Swallowing hard, he hurried past.

He took a right at the main hall, then down to the end - the game room. He kept himself from sprinting the final few feet. Slow and easy.

Tam silently closed the door behind him and locked it. The flashlight beam glinted off the Full-D systems, which looked menacing without the lights on. The jammer box hummed nearby. He flipped the switch, sending the blocking signals into the air. There - that would help with HANA, too. Letting out a deep breath, he slid into the chair and geared up.

One knight in shining armor, on the way. He just hoped he was in time.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - THE BRIGHT COURT

The golden light of Feyland swirled around him, and Tam held the image of the Bright Court in his mind. Take me there, he thought fiercely. The usual queasiness faded, and he felt solid ground under his feet. Had he done it? He opened his eyes.

Relief washed through him. He was standing in the middle of the faerie ring that led to the Bright Court. He never thought he’d be so happy to see those poisonous white-flecked mushrooms again. With one hand resting on his sword, he jumped over the ring and hurried down the path.

No twiggy guards blocking his way this time, no bright pixies flashing through the trees - which was just fine by him. As soon as the forest thinned out, he started jogging, pushing his pace. It was day here - it was probably always daytime, just as the Dark Court was in perpetual midnight.

Before long, he reached the fence line that marked the first field. He climbed quickly over the stile, then stopped in surprise. The herd of flame-eyed horses stood before him, waiting. With a whinny, the leader tossed his head and bent, indicating that Tam should mount.

“Nice,” Tam said, swinging up and taking a firm grip on the rough, silver mane. “This is going to help a lot - I appreciate it.”

The horse’s muscles bunched as he leapt into movement. They were going so fast, the grasses and flowers blurred past like an old-fashioned painting. When they reached the silver-latched gate, the steed didn’t hesitate. Tam had only a second to brace himself when it was clear they weren’t going to stop. Four hooves left the earth as the horse jumped up and over the gate. For a moment, Tam swore they were flying.

The horse landed lightly, then resumed his wild pace. A moment later, they galloped past the black cows. The spritely cow-herd waved from her perch on the largest animal’s back, and the bull lifted its head briefly, coal-bright eyes glowing.

As they approached the gold-latched gate, Tam hung on tight. Sure enough, his mount leaped that gate as well, white petals scattering as they landed in the orchard. The horse pounded between the rows of trees. Tam leaned low over his mount’s neck to keep the branches from scraping him off.

Speckled chickens scattered, squawking, as Tam and the silver horse tore through. The hen-wife shook her fist, and the horse neighed, the sound suspiciously like laughter. Then they were past, and a round green hill rose into the sky - but the ride wasn’t over yet.

The horse leaped, ascending the first terrace, the second, the third. At the very top of the hill, the door to the Bright Court stood open. Tam tried to untangle his fingers from the horse’s mane so he could dismount, but his hands were stuck fast. Guess he wasn’t getting off until his mount wanted him to.

Indeed, the silver horse didn’t slow, but pounded through the door, straight into the warm misty corridors beneath the hill. It wasn’t until they reached the ornate golden doors leading to the heart of the king’s court that Tam’s mount slowed. The horse came to a halt and bobbed his head, and Tam found that this time he could let go. He slid off, and a moment later, the white-haired man stood before him.

“Make haste,” the horse-man said. “Thy lady lies within.”

“I don’t know how I can repay you,” Tam said.

The man smiled, his eyes flashing silver. “Restore the balance, mortal. Farewell.”

Before Tam could ask what he’d meant, the man transformed back into a horse. White flames glimmering about his feet, he pivoted and galloped away, leaving Tam to face the Bright Court - alone.

The golden doors slowly swung open, the brightness beyond making him narrow his eyes. Alright then. Time to get Jennet out of there.

The gemmed trees shimmered as he passed, the emeralds and rubies winking, bright shards of green and red. Hand to his sword, Tam walked light-footed over the velvet mosses. Not that there was any hope his coming was a secret.

Harp music drifted through the glittering forest, and he caught the flash of pixies up ahead. Almost there. His stomach flipped in fear.

This was worse than facing the Dark Queen. At least he and Jennet had fought that battle together. This time, everything was on him.

The light brightened, the radiance of the pearl illuminating the clearing. Just as before, there was the bright dais with its damn golden grass. He’d known that trading Jennet’s hair had been a mistake.

The throne was empty. He darted a quick glance around. Was this a trap? Nothing leaped out at him, and he forced himself to keep walking, despite the prickling on the back of his neck.

To either side of the throne were the silken velvet couches. And lying on one of them - Jennet.

He missed a step, then ran forward into the eerie emptiness of the Bright Court. Jennet was pale and beautiful, and looked oddly out of place in her modern clothing. Her eyes were closed, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

Tam fell to his knees beside the couch.

Please, just be asleep. He laid his hand on her cheek. Her skin was warm, and the horrible fear clawing its way through him backed down a little. She wasn’t dead.

“Jennet, wake up,” he said, stroking her hair. She didn’t move, didn’t give any sign that she’d heard him.

He shook her shoulder, called her name, tried to lift her up. None of it worked. She was in some kind of magical sleep.

Heart pounding, he glanced around the clearing. The golden tray with the food the king had offered them caught his eye. Could he dash the milk in Jennet’s face? What could he do to wake her up?

An old vid he’d seen as a kid flashed through his mind. There had been a princess, enchanted into sleep, and a prince who had fought to save her. He’d woken the sleeping princess with… ah, yeah. A kiss.

Slowly, Tam bent over her still form, and brushed his lips against hers. Come on, Jennet, wake up. She stirred, then seemed to fall back into dark dreaming.

Again he kissed her, this time pressing his mouth more firmly over hers, printing the shape of her lips on his. She murmured, and he pulled back, barely breathing. Wake up.

No - she grew still and quiet again. Hot grief tried to well through him, but he forced it down. He was going to wake her. No way the Bright King was winning this one.

Tam gathered her in his arms and, holding her hard against him, pressed his lips to hers once more. Urgent and breathless, gave her a desperate kiss. I love you, Jennet. I love you. The words he could never say, ringing through him.

Her arms came around his shoulders, her lips moved under his, and it was like a firework detonated inside him. Loud and bright and stunning, swamping his senses, shining into his soul.

It was hard, breaking the kiss. He wanted it to go on and on - but they had to get out of Feyland.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a smile that nearly broke his heart.

“Tam. I knew you’d come.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her.

“What about Roy?” She turned her head, scanning the silent court.

“Lassiter? What do you mean?” Had Puck somehow alerted him, too? Had he come to try and save Jennet? The thought scraped uncomfortably.

“The king brought him here,” Jennet said. “You didn’t see Roy anywhere?”

“No - but I was only looking for you.” He reluctantly let her go.

She sat up. “Check the couch on the other side of the throne.”

He stood and scanned the court. Sure enough, another body lay on the second couch, partially obscured by silken covers. He walked over and flipped the golden silk back. Great, it was Roy Lassiter.

Knowing it wouldn’t work, he grabbed Lassiter’s shoulder and shook him, hard. The guy didn’t move.

“I found him,” Tam called. “Sound asleep - just like you were when I first got here. He’s not waking up, either.”

No way was he kissing the guy. Or letting Jennet do it, for that matter.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the court, setting the jeweled trees clinking. The faint sound of chimes echoed within the gemmed forest, then a low rumble, like thunder. Tam hurried to Jennet’s side. She gave him a quick, scared glance, and he pulled his sword from its sheath. His shield appeared, strapped to his left arm. Ready for combat.

“Mortal!” The word reverberated through the air.

The Bright King strode into the clearing. His faerie handmaidens trailed behind him, and the cold fire of the pixies darted overhead. Instead of his robes, he was clad in golden armor and wearing a high, twisting helm. He held an enormous sword, made of silver so bright it made Tam’s eyes water. He swallowed and gripped his weapon more tightly. This was it - the end-game fight.

“My wrath is upon thee,” the king cried, swinging his blade in a furious attack.

Tam lifted his sword, just in time. Metal clanged on metal, with a shock he felt to the soles of his feet. With a quick twist, he disengaged and danced to the side, moving away from where Jennet stood.

The king’s eyes glowed, nearly as bright as the sun. He rushed forward again, pressing Tam back to the edge of the clearing. If Tam didn’t get on his game right now, this was going to be a very short fight.

The fey-folk of the Bright Court ringed the clearing - sprites and dryads, the twiggy-fingered guards, and gnomish figures. Tam took them in with a quick glance, but didn’t see the one he’d hoped for. If Puck were here, he probably couldn’t do anything to help, anyway. This was Tam’s battle. Come on, concentrate.

Something shiny whizzed toward the king, bouncing with a clatter off his golden armor. Another missile winged the edge of his helmet, and the king spun, sword held high. Sick with fear, Tam watched as Jennet ducked behind the throne. She’d found the serving tray and was flinging the contents at the king.

The goblet was next. White liquid flew in an arc, spattering the ground. This was his chance. Tam darted forward. He slammed his shield against his opponent’s sword arm, then thrust at the king’s chest. The king staggered, and a small, fierce flame lit within Tam. Yes - he could do this.

A spoon whirled through the air to ping against the king’s shoulder. It was a small distraction, but enough to give Tam another opening. He beat again at his opponent, connecting with a solid thwack.

The king let out an angry shout and swung at Tam, his sword singing. Tam dodged back, but not fast enough. The blow hit the side of his shield and sent him spinning around from the force of it. Dammit!

Now it was the king’s turn to press the attack. Breath rasping in his throat, Tam moved backwards around the clearing. It was nearly impossible to get a swing in at his opponent, not while most of his energy was spent fending off the king’s heavy blows.

Movement glinted in the corner of his eye. Jennet, her long hair flying, leapt from the dais, the golden platter held high.

No! She was too vulnerable as her human self, not an avatar. She could die in here!

Tam grabbed his sword in both hands and, uncaring that it left him wide open to the king’s attack, lifted his blade high overhead. The Bright King smiled, sharp as metal, and pulled his own weapon back, readying the killing blow.

Clang! The golden tray slammed across the back of the king’s helm. His eyes widened and his sword dipped. Tam felt a sudden, quick pain in his thigh. Ignore it - strike now! Clenching his jaw, he aimed for the king’s neck and brought his sword down with all his strength.

Time froze. For a moment, Tam was utterly certain that he was about to be impaled on the king’s blade. Game over.

Then his sword connected with a meaty thunk. The Bright King let out a cry and fell to his knees, the impact shaking the gemmed trees. The watching fey-folk gasped, then stilled. A shocked silence spread out from the clearing, like ripples in a perfect lake.

Jennet was poised behind the king, holding the now-dented tray. Blood trickled from a cut on her finger, but otherwise she looked unharmed. Tam glanced down, half-expecting to see his armor peeled back like a can opener, but other than a jagged slice on his thigh, he was whole.

“Mortals,” the king said, his voice deep and powerful, “you have gained an unexpected victory. I concede the battle.”

Relief shivered through Tam. They had won. He could scarcely believe it.

Jennet set down the tray and circled around to stand beside Tam. She grabbed his free hand and held on, tight.

“Your majesty,” she said, “do you agree to release all the mortals currently held in your court - including him?” She nodded to the couch where Lassiter still lay in an enchanted sleep.

The Bright King rose gracefully to his feet. A thin line of crimson shone against the side of his neck, ending in a drop of blood bright as a ruby.

“Very well,” the king said. “I will free your companion.”

“And send the three of us safely back to the mortal world,” Tam added. It never hurt to be too specific when dealing with the faeries.

The king nodded, then waved to his chief handmaiden. “Peaseblossom, fetch the elixir of undoing.”

She bowed, graceful as a plume of grass bent by the wind, then went to the dais. A chest appeared beside the throne, ornately bedecked with gems. The faerie maid lifted the lid, and more brightness spilled into the clearing, as though a bit of the sun were kept inside. She drew out a vial of thick red liquid and carried it back to the king.

The cut in Tam’s thigh burned - but they had to finish this. He risked a quick glance at his leg. Despite the dark slice in his armor, there was no blood. Hard to tell if the injury was bad or not. He’d find out as soon as he left game.

The Bright King strode to the couch where Lassiter lay. He unstoppered the vial and tipped it. Three drops fell onto Lassiter’s face, and he opened his eyes.

“What? Hey!” He jumped up, then wobbled on his feet. “Jen, you ok?” His gaze went to Tam. “You too, Exie? What is this, some kind of tweaked party?”

“Enough,” the king said, his tone cold. “I shall send you three back to the mortal realm. Henceforth, all dealings between us are ended. The way to the Bright Court will be closed to you.”

“But… wait a sec,” Lassiter said, his voice desperate.

“Shut up, Roy.” Jennet went over to him and, taking his arm, dragged him back to where Tam stood. “You’re lucky to be getting out alive.”

“Heed Fair Jennet,” the king said, with a disdainful look at Lassiter.

“Your majesty,” she said. “Ever will I remember your court. And you.”

Jennet put one foot behind her and curtsied. Despite her pj’s and tangled hair, she looked like a princess from a long-ago tale.

The Bright King must have thought so, too. There was a flash of something like regret in his eyes.

“Farewell, mortals.” The words were for all of them, but his gaze never left Jennet. “Perhaps we will meet again - in vision or dream.”

Lassiter opened his mouth, and Tam jabbed him in the ribs. The sooner they were out of the Bright Court, the better.

The king lifted his hand and traced a pattern through the air. Flame followed the movement, inscribing bright runes that burned against Tam’s vision. He closed his eyes, and felt Jennet take his hand and hold on, hard.

Then the world tipped and so did his stomach. The pain in his thigh flared, mingling with the sick feeling of exiting the game. They were leaving the Bright Court of Feyland.

He hoped - forever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - THE BRIGHT COURT

Tam stumbled out of the sim chair. At least he could bear weight on his leg - the injury wasn’t that severe, though pain jabbed through him. He took a second to power down the Full-D and turn off the jamming switch. No point in advertising he’d been there.

He thumbed his flashlight on and went to the wall. There was a cupboard with med supplies somewhere near the corner - he needed to at least slap a bandage on before he left. Blank wall met his questing fingertips. Maybe the cupboard was a little more to the right.

The corner of the end-table emerged from the dark, banging him right below the knee. Pain zinged through him. He swallowed back a yell and tried to catch himself, but it was too late. With a sick sense of inevitability, he crashed forward, knocking over the lamp and piles of books on the table.

It wasn’t a loud collision - but the lights suddenly flared to full brightness. A second later, a screeching alarm split the air. He jumped, his heartbeat spiking hard.

“WARNING!” the house network called. He heard the sound echoing down the hall, projected from every speaker in the place. “Intruder detected in the gaming room. The authorities have been notified, and the subject contained.”

Crap. He felt like the alarm was shrieking inside him, just under his skin. He levered himself up, scrambled to the doors, and wrenched at the knobs. They were locked. Of course.

He glanced wildly around. Could he hide behind the couch?

The doors flew open, and he jumped sideways, trying to get to cover.

“Tam!” It was Jennet. She hurried to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“Later,” he rasped, trying to make himself heard over the shrilling alarm. “I need to get out of here. Now.”

Before they got to the door, Jennet’s dad rushed into the room, belting on a thick plaid bathrobe.

“What the hell is going on here? HANA!” he yelled, “turn off that alarm.”

Silence fell. Tam took a deep breath, trying to mute the fear drumming through him.

“Jennet.” Her dad turned to her, his expression grim. “What’s Tam doing here?”

“Freeze!” a voice shouted from the hall. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Oh no. The View’s security had arrived. Two men in combat gear appeared at the door, guns out and pointed at Tam. Scenarios flashed through his mind, all of them ending with him in jail. The only thing keeping the panic at bay was Jennet’s presence beside him, warm and solid.

“Wait, wait, wait,” an accented voice said. It was Marie, the house manager, no doubt elated to find that Tam had tripped the alarms. “The Carters are in there! We must not have a hostage situation. This boy from the Exe is very dangerous. Shoot him, if you must.”

“No!” Jennet moved in front of Tam. “This is my boyfriend - he was just, um…”

One of the security guards gestured with his weapon, and Tam flinched.

“Move away from the suspect, miss,” the man said. “We don’t want anyone injured.”

“Stop it,” Jennet’s dad said. “Everyone calm down. This is all a misunderstanding.”

“Hey,” Tam said. “I’m unarmed. Just - quit waving your guns around, and I’ll come quietly.” He hoped they’d at least bandage his leg before they threw him in a cell.

“Arrest the boy, now,” Marie hissed at the nearest security guard.

“Marie - you are not needed here.” Mr. Carter sent the house manager a stern look. “Go reassure the rest of the staff that nothing untoward has happened.”

She screwed up her face, as though she’d like to say a lot more.

“Marie.”

She blew a huff of air out her nose, then gave a single, short nod. “If you insist, Mr. Carter.”

As she turned to leave, she pinned Tam with a narrow-eyed gaze, as intense and burning as a laser. He had no doubt she would have loved for things to get ugly for him.

Though there was no guarantee they still wouldn’t. The guards were jumpy as hell.

“Dad - ” Jennet began.

He waved her to silence, then addressed the uniformed men. “Thank you for your prompt response. I’m sorry my daughter’s boyfriend made the poor choice to try and sneak in to visit her - but it’s not a criminal act, as you can see.”

The guards glanced at each other. The one on the left lowered his weapon.

“Are you sure, sir?” The second man gave Tam a wary look. “I mean, if he’s from the Exe, we should take him in for questioning.”

“Just because he’s from there doesn’t make his every breath illegal,” Jennet said. “I cannot believe you people! In fact - ”

“Jen.” Her dad raised his brows in warning, and she subsided. He nodded to the guards. “We can handle everything from here, gentlemen.”

“Okay,” the wary guard said. “But we still need to fill out a report and take your statement.”

He stared at Tam for a second more, then holstered his gun. Tam felt the constriction around his lungs ease. Relief chased through him, and surprise that Jennet’s dad had even marginally taken his side. It would have been so easy to get rid of his daughter’s sketchy boyfriend.

Mr. Carter went to the door. “I’ll accompany you gentlemen downstairs, and we can take care of the paperwork. As for you, young lady,” he turned and fixed Jennet with a serious look, “We have a number of things to discuss. Both of you, wait here for me.”

“Yes, Dad,” she said. Tam just nodded.

She stayed in front of Tam until the men had gone, then whirled. “You sit down right now, Tam Linn. Because if you fall over, I’m not dragging you to the couch.”

Except she probably would. Tam gave her a weak smile.

“My leg’s not too bad,” he said, sitting. Though he had to admit, it felt better not to be standing on it.

Jennet went to the cupboard he’d been searching for - a little lower down than he’d thought - and came back with antibi spray and plas-skin.

“What is it with you always hurting your leg?” she said. “Ok, get out of your jeans and we’ll fix you up.”

“Uh…” No way did he want Jennet’s dad coming back in the room to find him with his pants off. “Can’t you just cut them? My jeans are already ruined.”

She dropped her gaze to the slice in the fabric. “Yeah, ok. Let me grab the scissors.”

He rested his head on the back of the couch, so tired his eyelids felt like lead. What was it, four in the morning? At least he wasn’t in jail. Maybe he could still get home before Mom woke up.

He felt Jennet tugging at his pants leg, heard the snip of scissors, but he was too spent to lift his head.

“Your leg looks okay,” Jennet said. “We’ve brought worse out of game, for sure.”

He made himself sit up. It wasn’t fair to make her deal with his injury, no matter how exhausted he felt. He glanced down at the gash in his thigh. It started throbbing again, as if by looking, it suddenly became real. He probed at the edges.

“Don’t touch it until you wash your hands,” Jennet said, pushing his hands away. “Sheesh, Tam, basic hygiene. Here - I’ll do it.”

“Alright.”

She grabbed the can of antibi spray, and he couldn’t help flinching as the cold spray stung his wound. Jennet bent and liberally applied the plas-skin, then taped a big gauze pad over his thigh.

“There,” she said. “You’ll be good as new in a couple days.”

“Thanks. Got any painkillers in that kit?”

She dug around, then handed him two white pills. They were bitter on his tongue, but he swallowed them dry. She set the med kit down and settled next to him on the couch. The warmth of her against his side felt better than any meds, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I got here,” he said, “and onto your Full-D system?”

“I don’t need to. You always find a way.” The smile she gave him was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Thanks for rescuing me - but how did you know?

“Puck woke me. It was a surprise to see Lassiter in there, though.”

“Yeah, for me, too.”

He frowned. “Do you really think the Bright King is finished with him - that their bargain is over?”

“The faeries don’t joke around with that kind of stuff.” She pushed the short strand of hair out of her face. “And it solves one of our problems, anyway. The king won’t be pulling any more power from the mortal world.”

A chill scraped the back of his neck. “At least, not until the game is released. Then nobody will be safe.”

What were they going to do? They’d managed to defeat the rulers of both the Bright and Dark Courts - but the mortal world was still in danger.

Jennet’s dad walked back into the room. He halted in front of them and folded his arms.

“I’d like an explanation, Mr. Linn,” he said. “Obviously, you weren’t just here to see Jennet. You were gaming on the Full-D system, weren’t you?”

Tam shot a guilty look at the equipment in the middle of the room. “Yeah, I was. But Jennet didn’t know about it - or even know I was here, until the end.”

“The end of what?” Her dad nodded to Tam’s leg. “And how did you hurt yourself?”

“Tam had to come in-game,” Jennet said. “I was trapped in Feyland - kind of like what happened to him, before. He was wounded there, fighting to free me.”

Mr. Carter’s eyebrows climbed. “Do you need medical attention?”

“I’m ok,” Tam said. “Jennet fixed me up - it wasn’t that serious.”

“I’ll tell you both what is serious. Jennet, did you neglect to tell Tam he wasn’t allowed to visit any more?”

“What?” Tam turned to her. “Since when?”

“It was just this evening,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him, Dad.”

Her dad’s expression hardened. “So he was breaking and entering all on his own? I don’t think that was a very wise choice. Neither does Crestview Security. They’d still like to bring Tam in for questioning.”

“But, Dad - ”

“However, in return for his promise that he stay away from you, I’m willing to hold off the security boys.”

Tam leaned back into the cushions, trying to look harmless. “Mr. Carter, you don’t really think I came here to steal stuff, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Jennet’s dad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly tired. “I do know that whatever you were up to, it wasn’t within the bounds of what we’d call appropriate behavior.”

While Tam wanted to argue that rescuing Jennet was incredibly appropriate, he knew when he’d lost. Back-talking now would only make things worse.

“It isn’t Tam’s fault!” Jennet’s voice was rough with emotion. “Without him, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“I’m sorry, but there have to be consequences. Now, please, get off the couch.” He glanced at her, no sympathy on his face.

Jennet leaned into Tam a moment more. He squeezed her close, then made himself let go. Slowly, she stood, leaving a cold, empty place beside him.

“Tam isn’t welcome in your life,” her dad said. “You can agree to abide by that - or I can take the security guards up on their offer to haul him in and press charges.”

Jennet swallowed, the sparkle of tears in her eyes. The look she gave Tam was full of strangled emotion.

Mr. Carter fixed his gaze on Tam. “Tam Linn - I expect you to respect this decision. My daughter is off-limits.”

It was ironic. Jennet’s dad thought he might be a criminal, but still trusted him to be bound by his word. Of course, there was also the threat of being turned over to the authorities. Tam swallowed.

“Alright,” he said.

He gripped the arm of the couch and stood, only wincing a little. At least the pain meds were taking effect. It was going to be a long walk back to the Exe.

Mr. Carter gave him a long, level look. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he addressed the house.

“HANA, tell George I’m sorry to wake him, but his services are needed.”

“Right away, sir.” After a few seconds, the house continued, “He will be waiting with the car in five minutes.”

“Back to bed, Jennet,” her dad said. “We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

She turned and flung her arms around Tam, holding tight. He gathered her close and tried to memorize everything - the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body where it pressed against him, how she fit right next to his heart.

“Now.” Her dad’s voice was hard.

Jennet clung to Tam a moment more, then slowly let go. He made his arms open, though yearning was ripping right through him. This had happened because he’d saved her - and there was nothing they could do.

Nothing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - THE BRIGHT COURT

Jennet spent most of Ancient History class trying not to think about Tam sitting in the back row. It was no good. She couldn’t shut off her awareness of him, any more than the moon could stop rotating around the earth.

Every time she glanced over her shoulder, she found he was looking at her, too. Finally Ms. Lewis noticed and asked her to stop fidgeting. Jennet let out a low breath.

No matter what Dad said, no matter the consequences, she and Tam couldn’t stop seeing each other. There was way too much at stake. The Bright King would twist human desires to his own ends. The Dark Queen would wreak havoc on the mortal world. She shivered, an icy chill settling in her bones.

How could she and Tam possibly stop them?

At lunch, she squared her shoulders and walked back to their usual table. She didn’t think Dad would have spies at school, but it was a chance she’d have to take.

Marny gave her a solemn look from her place at the table - clearly she knew the basics.

“Hey,” she said. “You better plan on sitting here, Fancy-girl. Or are all your friends off limits?”

Jennet set her tray down with a dull thunk. “I guess you heard I’m not supposed to see Tam.”

“Last I checked, he’s not here. Sit down.” Marny took a bite of her sandwich. “Besides, you know we have to talk about what’s going on. All three of us. At the same time. Now, sit.”

Pressing her lips together, Jennet slid onto the bench across from Marny. She glimpsed Tam from the corner of her eye, coming toward the table. He paused, and Marny gave him a scowl that could curdle milk.

“Stop tweaking about this,” she said, beckoning to him.

Tam stood there for a second, not meeting her eyes, then put his tray beside Marny’s.

“Ok,” the big girl said. “I hear Tam was caught at your house last night, Jennet. That was careless of you guys.”

“It’s not what you think,” Tam said. “I wasn’t even in her room.”

“He had to come over,” Jennet added. “Because of the game - he needed to get on the Full-D system in order to come into Feyland and get me out. Did he tell you that?”

Marny nodded, her bobbed black hair swinging around her shoulders. “And Roy was there, too?”

“Yeah,” Tam said.

“Then where is he - still stuck in Feyland?”

“I haven’t seen him today,” Jennet said. “I don’t think the Bright King injured him, but - ”

“No such luck,” Tam said. “He just walked into the cafeteria. And he’s heading over here.”

Jennet glanced up, relieved to see Roy safely back in the real world - though he didn’t look happy about it. His clothes were rumpled, his hair messy and unstyled, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. The frown on his face deepened as he stalked up to the end of their table.

“Well, well.” He folded his arms. “It’s team Feyland. Planning to ruin any more lives today?”

Marny looked him up and down. “You look like hell, Roy, but ruined? I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Oh, I’m ruined all right.” Without asking, Roy sat down next to Jennet. She scooted away, putting several more inches between them.

He leaned forward, his words coming low and bitter. “Whatever you did at the Bright Court, you wrecked everything. I’ve spent the morning in detention, trying to explain why I’ve barely handed in any schoolwork. Everyone’s looking at me like I’ve turned into a toad. I got in such severe trouble with my mom, she’s taking my grav-car away. And it’s all your fault.” His hot, angry gaze slid over Jennet, then came to rest on Tam. “Especially you, Exie.”

“Stop it.” Jennet wanted to punch Roy, she was so mad. “You were the one who made the bargain with the Bright King. Did you really think it wouldn’t come back to bite you?”

“Not like this.” He pinned her with his furious brown eyes. “I had the most flawless deal going, ever.”

“Yeah,” Marny said, “At other people’s expense. How’s Keeli doing, by the way? Did you ever bother to visit your girlfriend when she was in the hospital?” Her mouth curled with distaste. “I can’t believe I thought you were anything special, Roy Lassiter. You’re so ordinary it hurts.”

“Shut it!” His cry made the nearby students look over at their table. Hunching his shoulders, he glared at Marny. “Like you should talk about being ordinary, fat girl.”

She bared her teeth at him in the semblance of a smile. “You said it yourself - I’m different. I’m the biggest girl in this school, and I own it. What do you own, rich boy? And I’m not talking about your fancy toys.”

She’d cut right to the heart of him - Jennet could see it in his eyes. His anger was swamped for a second by a scared, desolate look.

Roy was as lost as any of them - probably even more so. At least she, Tam, and Marny had a clue about who they were.

“I know you’re angry with us,” Jennet said, “but what you were doing was wrong, Roy. Wrong at a really deep level. Can’t you see that? Getting tangled up in Feyland never brings any good. Trust me - I know.” Her experience with the Dark Court had been more serious than Roy could imagine.

Roy stood abruptly, not meeting any of their eyes. “Just leave me alone. Stay out of my way - and out of my life.”

“Gladly,” Tam said.

Jennet didn’t say anything as Roy stalked away. The girls who used to flock to him stepped aside as he passed, and the other students rubbed their eyes, staring after him in a confused way. Without the faerie glamour, Roy Lassiter was back to being just a regular guy.

“Good riddance,” Marny said, stabbing her fork into the pickle on her tray. “I’d be happy to never talk to him again.”

Jennet watched as Roy ducked out of the cafeteria, all his cocky assurance gone. Brief sympathy twinged through her. She knew how it felt to be the new kid at school, and one of the rich outsiders, at that.

“Maybe,” she said.

She had a feeling they weren’t done with Roy Lassiter.

Jennet was dreaming - or was she? She stood in a meadow spangled with white flowers, the sky a clear blue dome above. The soft air of Feyland wrapped around her, scented with mint and lavender. She’d been here before. With Tam.

As if the thought summoned him, he appeared next to her. His brown hair was sleep-tousled, and instead of silver armor, he wore a black t-shirt and low-slung gray sweats. Her heart jolted with happiness. Sitting with him at lunch wasn’t enough - it just made her ache inside even more.

“Jennet.” He smiled and stepped forward, opening his arms.

She went into his embrace like a diver too-long submerged, breaking at last into the sweet, essential air. It was almost painful, the intensity of joy flowing through her. She hugged him hard, feeling the wiry muscles, the lean strength of him.

This was a dream - she wasn’t responsible for her actions here. She tipped her face up to his. Without hesitation, he kissed her. This was more than the simple, soft kisses they had exchanged before. Fire sparked her nerves as their mouths molded desperately together.

She wanted to climb inside his skin and stay there with him, forever.

“Ahem.” Someone coughed, discreetly, behind her.

It had to be Thomas. He was always a part of this dream, too.

Slowly, Jennet pulled back, though her lips begged to stay touching Tam’s. She stared into his clear green eyes for a long moment, then turned to face her old friend. Tam slipped his arms around her, and she leaned against him with a sigh.

“Hello, Thomas,” Tam said, his voice vibrating her back. He didn’t sound surprised to see the bard, either.

Thomas made them a bow, his eyes sparkling. “Greetings, Tam and Jennet. Once more you are victorious within the Realm. And I am pleased to see you have at last reached an understanding.”

Tam looked down at her with a crooked smile. “If only the rest of the world understood, we’d be fine.”

“Oh, they will.” Thomas’s expression sobered. “There are more battles ahead, my friends - trials that will tax you to your very limits. Trust one another, and trust those who rally to your side.”

Jennet swallowed, her happiness fading. “You have to tell us, Thomas - how can we keep Feyland from being released?”

He let out a deep breath. “You cannot, any more than you can hold back the water when the dam is fatally cracked.”

“Then what can we do?” Tam’s arms tightened around her. “The mortal world’s about to be in serious trouble.”

“The way will be revealed,” Thomas said. “When it opens, you must take the path without hesitation, even if fear rises up to choke you.”

Frustration blazed in her chest. “That’s so not enough. Thomas, you have to help us. Tell us how - ”

“Already I stretch the boundaries of what is allowed.” The bard gave her a sorrowful look. “Do not ask more.”

“Can’t you at least tell us where we need to go?” Tam asked.

His eyes weary, Thomas shook his head.

“Aha!” a high voice cried. “He cannot - but I can.”

“Puck!” Jennet scanned the meadow until she caught sight of the sprite leaping over the white flowers. He made a complete flip, then bowed jauntily at their feet.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Tam asked.

“I come and go throughout the Realms as I please,” Puck said.

“Aye, causing mischief in your wake.” Thomas gave the sprite a half-smile.

“Tis simply to give you more to sing about, Bard. You should be glad of it. But Bold Tamlin, you speak true - trouble is not far from your mortal world. There is only one place you may turn to for aid. A place deeper than the Realm of Faerie. A place where even I tread lightly.”

Jennet’s throat went dry, but she had to ask. “What place is that?”

Puck gave them a look - more serious than she had ever seen. “The Twilight Kingdom.”

His words hung in the air, and the light dimmed as though clouds had covered the sun. Jennet was grateful for Tam’s warm, solid presence at her back.

“How do we get there?” Tam asked.

“As I told you,” Thomas said, “You will know the way when it opens before you.”

“Why do you have to be so secretive?” Jennet wanted to shake him.

“He must,” Puck said. “The allegiance he has sworn binds him. Now hurry, this place-between is fading. Kiss one another once more, ’ere the moment is over.”

“Farewell,” Thomas said, holding up his hand. “Stay true.”

Then he was gone, and Puck as well, the sprite’s laughter still chiming in the air. Jennet turned in Tam’s arms. His lips were warm on hers, but fading, fading…

She was alone, on the edge of waking. A cold wind bent the meadow-grasses and the light took on a purplish hue.

She opened her eyes in the dimness of her own bedroom.

Everything was quiet, with the early-morning stillness that descended in the hour before dawn. The memory of Tam’s kiss kept her warm, though the dark shadow of the future was rising quickly before them.

A future that led to a place she’d never heard of …

The Twilight Kingdom.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS for THE BRIGHT COURT:

Thank you to the many people who made this book better: the encouragement and feedback of my terrific CP, Peggy, fabulous proof and beta-readers Sean (aka Captain Grammar Pants), Chassily, Marissa, Theresa McHarney, and Brynn. Extra-big hugs to my patient and supportive in-house editor, Lawson, and keen-eyed reader Ginger.

For an absolutely gorgeous cover, huge thanks to Kim Killion at Hot Damn Designs. And for the inspiration to move forward, ongoing gratitude to all the indie and self-publishing advocates out there.

Resources used include: Katharine M. Briggs, An encyclopedia of fairies: Hobgoblins, brownies, bogies, and other supernatural creatures: and Faeries by Froud, Larkin, and Lee

Jennet and Tam’s adventures in the Bright Court were partially inspired by the fairy tale of Childe Rowland. Special thanks to The Baldwin Project for their fine version of the text. http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=steel&book=english&story=childe

Thank you for reading the FEYLAND trilogy!

If you enjoyed it, please consider helping other readers find this book:

1. Share it ~ Lend it to a friend who you think might like it.

2. Spread the word ~Leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other site of your choice. Even a line or two makes a difference, and is greatly appreciated!

3. Stay connected ~ Sign up for Anthea’s quarterly newsletter, Sharp Tales, at http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp. Visit her website at antheasharp.com, and come friend her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/AntheaSharp.

BACK TO TOP OF THE BRIGHT COURT

BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM – Book 3 in the Feyland Trilogy ~

THEIR LAST CHANCE…

Jennet Carter and Tam Linn are almost out of time. Feyland, the most immersive computer game ever designed, is about to be released into the world—along with the Realm of Faerie’s dangerous magic.

WIN THE GAME…

The faeries, desperate to break free from their realm, have set treacherous plans in motion. Despite magical allies of their own, Jennet and Tam have no idea what dire threats await, both in-game and out.

OR DIE TRYING…

Battling for their lives against the united powers of the Dark Queen and Bright King, Jennet and Tam’s quest to stop the fey takes them into the perilous Twilight Kingdom, where illusion reigns—and magic can break all the rules.

DEDICATION:

For all the musicians in my family – but most especially for Ginger.

FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM – PROLOGUE

In the dimness where night gives way to dawn, two fey monarchs met in the center of an oak-encircled clearing. The starlit grass shimmered with magic, cold and bright, as the pair faced one another.

Deep shadows stretched behind the Dark Queen. Stars tangled, icy and brilliant, in her midnight hair, and her eyes were black as an eclipse. Things better left unseen in the bleak hours of the night crept beside her on disjointed limbs. Their feral eyes glowed as they crouched in the clouded tatters of her gown.

The Bright King carried midday in his wake, his hair shining with remembered sun, his golden armor aglow. The small fire of pixies hovered at his shoulders, wreathing him in a crown of light.

The creatures of their courts watched the fateful meeting. Fantastical forms capered in and out of the trees or perched, moon-pale, wizened, and gnarled, upon the branches.

“Greetings, brother,” the Dark Queen said, her dusky voice filling the silence like smoke.

“Well met, sister.” The Bright King inclined his head. “Have you an answer to our troubles? Troubles which, I recall, you worsened with your obvious meddling in the mortal world.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed, glittering. “You failed as well, despite your trickery. Despite your promises and enticements.”

Her tone was edged with ice, and the creatures nearest her shifted away.

“The mortals are clever,” the king said. “Much as it pains me to admit such a thing. Fair Jennet and Bold Tamlin—”

“Speak not those names to me!” she cried. “Your pain cannot compare to mine. It is a constant coal burning beneath my breast. Yet we must lay aside our differences and work together. The entire Realm suffers, Unseelie and Seelie both.”

At her words, the watching fey folk muttered and hissed. The bright lights trailing the king dimmed, and the cold midnight of the queen faded. A bitter wind stirred the grasses at their feet, bringing with it the scent of decay.

Glancing over his shoulder, the king lowered his honey-rich voice. “It is dangerous for us to do so. It upsets the balance. We do not want to wake them.”

“When have they bothered themselves with the Realm?” Frigid anger rolled off the queen. “We are dying from lack of mortal sustenance, and they pay no heed. Perhaps, when we break through into the human world, they will stir. But by then, it will be too late.”

From the shadows, a tall, antlered figure raised his eerie head. The red-eyed hounds at his feet howled, their spectral cries wavering through the air—the Wild Hunt, always eager to be loosed.

“Leash your hounds,” the king said, his voice tight.

“I will not wreak havoc upon your court, if that is what you fear.” The Dark Queen laughed, the sound like ice cracking on a winter lake. “At least, not yet. So, brother, are we in accord?”

“Little good our rivalry does us, if our entire land is imperiled.” The king frowned. “It forebodes me, but I see no other course. We shall strive together to restore our kingdoms. But mark me well—when strength returns to the Realm of Faerie, I shall spare you no mercy.”

“Nor I you.” The Dark Queen sent him a knife-edged smile.

The watchers in the shadows stirred again, their eyes bright and menacing. Blades and teeth shone in the silvery light and a band of redcap goblins hissed, eager to battle their long-standing enemies.

“Be still!” the Dark Queen cried, her voice slashing the air.

The goblins subsided, but restive tension hummed through the clearing. Brightness clawed farther above the horizon, and the dark creatures of the Unseelie Court drew back into the dimness beneath the trees.

“A truce, until the Realm is secure,” the king said. “Together we will open the gateway to the mortal world. Now seal the bargain—in blood.”

The queen raised an imperious hand, and one of her willowy handmaidens approached, a pewter bowl cradled between her hands. The faerie maid knelt on the soft grass between the monarchs and held the bowl up, her pale head bowed.

From her gossamer sleeve, the Dark Queen drew out a long, black thorn, the point sharp and deadly. The king nodded and produced a shining golden needle. The monarchs extended their hands over the bowl, each one poised to prick the other’s palm to the bone.

The wind ceased and the fey folk held their breath. Silence descended across the Realm. In the dark bogs, Phoukas rose, lifting their eerie horse-heads. Hobs huddled in their bracken hovels, and even the most frivolous of pixies dimmed.

“By this blood, the Realm will live,” the king said.

“By this blood, the Realm might die,” the queen countered. “Seal our fate, brother.”

The king’s golden needle plunged into the queen’s palm. She let out a sharp cry, quickly swallowed. A trickle of blood, dark as midnight, fell into the bowl, and the faerie maiden holding it trembled.

Quick as dusk descending, the queen stabbed the king’s hand with her black thorn. He hissed in pain as a trickle of blood, glowing like distilled sunlight, fell into the bowl.

The instant the blood touched blood, a vortex of light swirled up, red flame and cold blue fire, heat and darkness, flooding the clearing like a visible scream. The monarch’s faces lit with eldritch color as light clashed against dark. Around them, their courtiers fell to the ground, turning their gazes away from that terrible light.

The tall oaks bowed and swayed, bending like grass as the land carried the magic deep into itself.

The maiden holding the bowl cried out, high and shrill. It was the sound of a hawk descending; it was the cry of its prey as cruel talons pierced to the heart. Radiance spilled from her body, then coal-black cinders as she turned to ash. The bowl tumbled to the grass, empty.

The Realm shuddered. Stilled.

“It is done,” the queen gasped. “Seelie and Unseelie are united.”

The king dipped his head, his face lined with strain.

“My court will linger no more in this place.” She glanced at the sky. “Already it grows too light. We shall meet again.”

She lifted a pale hand and swept back into the midnight half of the Realm. Her retinue followed: banshees with hollow eyes, sharp-toothed goblins, a silent-helmed knight encased in black armor, and all the varied dark denizens of the Unseelie Court.

The king beckoned his own court into the noontime brightness of his domain. They streamed into the light, pixies and hobs, sprites and faerie maidens, the clear notes of a harp shimmering behind them. Then the clearing was empty, only a charred circle on the grass bearing testament as dawn brightened the sky to pale gold.

Something stirred between the oaks, and two figures stepped from the shadowy trees. The taller one seemed nearly human, though dressed in faerie raiment. A battered guitar was slung across his back, and regrets and secrets lined his face.

His companion was a nut-brown sprite garbed in a tatter of leaves and dreaming, his hair tangled around his sharp features.

The two exchanged somber looks, a wealth of worry in the air.

“So, Bard Thomas,” the sprite said. “It is as we feared.”

“Aye.” The man shook his head in a weary gesture. “The way forward is almost too difficult to contemplate.”

A chill breeze shivered the leaves of the trees, and he pulled his cape more tightly about himself.

The sprite floated up until he could set one long-fingered hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hold fast,” he said in a high, piping voice. “The balance will be restored. It must be.”

Thomas nodded, his eyes deep with sorrow. “Yes. But at what cost?”

CHAPTER ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam Linn stepped up to the reception desk in the echoing VirtuMax lobby, his heart threatening to hammer right through his ribcage.

He glanced down at his jeans—the good ones, with the ripped hem barely visible and no holes in the knees. Even though he’d taken a shower and put on his cleanest clothes, he felt grimy in the pristine white lobby, as if being from the Exe left a stain around him—an oily cloud that followed wherever he went.

“Hi,” he said to the woman at the desk. She looked almost plastic in her perfection. “I’m here for the beta-testing team.”

She didn’t meet his eyes—just stared at his access badge, as though she couldn’t believe a guy like him was permitted here, in the hallowed company compound. He half-expected her to demand his badge; maybe bite on it to make sure it was real. As if he could have gotten past the gates and scanners using a dummy pass. With the security around VirtuMax, that would be severely impossible.

Finally, she wrinkled her nose and shoved a tablet and plas-pen at him. “Sign in. Full name. Purpose of visit.”

He filled out the form, then slid the tablet back to her. Before picking it up, she shot a spray of disinfectant over it. Nice.

“Wait over there.” She pointed her chin toward a row of white chairs on one side of the lobby, then watched him go as if she expected him to leave black streaks on everything he touched.

A professionally dressed woman with dark hair occupied one of the chairs. Head bent to her tablet, she didn’t bother glancing up at him. Tam shoved his hands in his pockets, too nervous to sit. His gaze went past the receptionist, and he studied the angular silver logo dominating the far wall. VirtuMax. The best game company in the world—the company he’d spent years daydreaming about. He couldn’t believe he was actually here.

Too bad it was for all the wrong reasons.

He’d made it through the front doors, but not as an internationally celebrated gamer or top-notch developer. No, he was just a high school student from the worst part of town whose life was fraying apart. The only thing he excelled at was simming.

And even that ability wouldn’t have gotten him on the game-testing roster, except for his connection with Jennet Carter, whose dad was a project manager for the company. Tam still couldn’t believe Mr. Carter had recommended him for the beta team. Not after warning him to stay away from Jennet.

Jennet—who was on the beta team, too. When was she going to get here?

He let his hair fall over his eyes and covertly studied the other woman waiting in the lobby. She didn’t look like a gamer. For one thing, she was older than most simmers, plus she was dressed way corporate. Maybe here for some kind of interview?

Then the doors swooshed open and Jennet came through, and nothing else mattered. Her blond hair was braided back, and she was wearing a purplish sweater that made her eyes seem even bluer than usual. She saw him and walked right over, a big smile on her face.

“Tam—you made it.”

He could tell she wanted to reach for him—take his hand or give him a hug. He wanted it, too, with a yearning that twisted inside him. But here in the VirtuMax lobby, in front of the receptionist and who knew how many cameras? Bad idea. He forced himself not to lean towards her, lift his hand and touch the satiny skin of her cheek.

“Of course I’m here,” he said. “Didn’t you send George with the grav-car to pick me up?”

“Well, yeah.” She glanced down at the floor. “I thought, for this first time, maybe you wouldn’t mind.”

“It would have taken me about three times as long otherwise. So thanks.”

No buses ran up to the privileged compound of The View, and certainly not to the high-security headquarters beyond. VirtuMax didn’t want the town riffraff coming anywhere near their pristine, well-ordered little world.

“Who else is on the team?” he asked. She’d have inside information.

“Do you want the good news first, or the bad?”

“Bad—but don’t tell me. It’s Lassiter, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and he tasted the tang of bitterness on his tongue. Roy Lassiter was the son of VirtuMax’s CEO, and a decent sim player. He was also a prime ego-head, with a huge grudge against Tam and Jennet. A grudge that wasn’t entirely unwarranted, though it was Lassiter’s own fault things had gone the way they had.

Being on a team with him was going to be… interesting.

“The good news is that Zeg’s playing too.” Jennet raised her brows at him. “That is good, right?”

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “That’s pretty prime.”

Zeg was old enough to be his dad—in fact, he was the uncle of Tam’s good friend Marny, and ran the best sim café in Crestview. He was a techie and a gamer of the highest order. The tension running through Tam went down a notch. It was a huge relief to know he wouldn’t be the only non-Viewer on the team.

“That’s Coranne Smith over there.” Jennet tipped her head toward the woman perched on the chair. “She’s an employee. They pulled her in from another unit for beta testing.”

So, the professional-looking woman was on the team after all. She didn’t seem very intimidating—but outside appearances could be deceiving. In-game, she might turn out to be a fearsome player.

“Anyone else on the team?” he asked.

“Yes.” Jennet hesitated. “Um—my dad.”

Tam swallowed back a curse of surprise. Of course. It made sense, in a crazy way. Jennet’s dad could keep an eye on them the whole time and make sure his daughter wasn’t being contaminated.

“I couldn’t believe it, when he sent that message he’d recommended me for the beta team,” Tam said. “I thought he hated me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Jennet let out a low sigh. “He just doesn’t think you’re good for me.”

“Yeah, spoilage from the Exe, trashing up his place. Sullying his daughter.”

Color bloomed in her cheeks, though she held his gaze. “One kiss is not ‘sullying.’ And you’re not spoilage, so stop it. He knows we make a great team. He can’t ignore that, even though he doesn’t quite believe Feyland is real. At least he understands we watch out for each other.”

“I’ve pulled you out of the fire a time or two,” Tam said.

And he’d go right on doing it—anything to keep her safe. It seemed her dad cared enough about her well-being to bend some of his own rules. Tam felt a grudging spark of respect for the man. At least they could agree on this one thing.

“And vice-versa.” She set one hand on her hip. “I’ve rescued you an equal number of times, Tam Linn. Not that I’m keeping track or anything.”

Damn, he wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her tight, despite the cameras and onlookers. She’d gotten him out of the most severe trouble he’d ever known. He could never repay her for that brilliant courage, though he tried.

He let out a silent breath. Seriously, he needed to keep his distance from Jennet, at least where people could see. No sense breaking the tenuous peace between him and her father.

“Six people on the beta team,” he said. “That seems sparse for a project this big.”

“Trust me, I’ve had to listen to Dad complain about it endlessly. If he were still project manager, he’d have run things differently, but Dr. Lassiter is pretty tight about stuff. People have to get clearance, and since the prototype FullD systems are only playable on-site—well, it’s not easy to find testers.”

Because Crestview was a nothing town in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t have to say it. Anyone with any talent got out as soon as they could. Although, since VirtuMax had moved in, that could change.

“I wish Marny liked to sim,” he said.

She was the most solid person he knew, physically as well as mentally. Too bad she was claustrophobic. It was an understatement to say she and sim equip didn’t get along. Donning the gloves and helm, sinking into the sim-chair—it was too much for her. The only time she’d ever simmed, she’d been under a magical persuasion that hadn’t ended well.

There was a commotion at the door, and he glanced over to see a group of people enter the lobby. A couple of them were obvious security-types, surrounding a young woman with bright magenta hair. Tam blinked, astonishment rooting his feet. Only one person in the world had hair like that. Superstar gamer Spark Jaxley.

“No way,” he breathed.

Jennet’s eyes were wide, too. They watched as the receptionist came out from behind the desk, practically bowing to the ground as she greeted the new arrival.

“Welcome to VirtuMax, Miss Jaxley. Such an honor. Please come this way. We have a private room where you can wait until the rest of the team is assembled.”

The gamer nodded, and her whole entourage turned and followed the secretary down the wide hall.

“She said team… do you think Spark Jaxley is going to be beta testing with us?” The question shivered through him, and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea.

“Dad mentioned something about the company trying to bring in big outside talent.” Jennet sounded unsure. “This is huge, though. I bet VirtuMax offered her a sponsorship for the FullD. After all, she represents their Slix system.”

“Right.”

Tam had seen the vids advertising the company’s top-end sim system. Spark Jaxley was featured prominently, her bright hair flying as she performed one amazing in-game feat after another. It would make sense to pull her in for the FullD launch, though it no doubt cost VirtuMax an astronomical sum. Enough to feed the whole city of Crestview for five years or something. His stomach hurt, thinking about what Spark was probably worth.

Half of him wanted to turn on his heel and stalk out of the VirtuMax compound, where the privileged air and knowing looks of the employees were making him sick. But he couldn’t do that to Jennet, or to her dad, who’d put himself on the line by recommending Tam.

The other half of him, though, was more than ready for the challenge. That part relished the idea of pitting himself against the best gamer in the world. And winning.

“Attention.” The amplified voice of the receptionist echoed sharply through the lobby. “All beta-testing team members please assemble to the right of the desk. You will be escorted to the game hub momentarily.”

“Roy’s not here,” Jennet said. She didn’t look too upset about it.

“Probably having gourmet coffee with his mom in the CEO’s office.” Tam looked out the glass-fronted doors as they walked by, scanning the empty walkway for a bear-like figure. “I hope Zeg makes it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here in just a minute.” Jennet pressed her lips together in that worried way of hers.

“If they let him through the gates.”

He could just see it—Zeg in his battered old gas car, smoke pouring out the back, while the Viewer security guys tried to find some reason to turn him away.

“He’s got clearance,” Jennet said. “Dad told me everyone was good to go.”

“Then we’ll see him soon.”

Tam said the words firmly, like he believed them. Like saying them would make them real. He needed Zeg to show—needed some solidity from the world outside the compound’s walls, to keep him grounded. Remind him of what was true.

The air was sterile and cool in the VirtuMax halls, but heat flushed just under his skin. Tension tugged his breath. There was too much at stake, too many variables and secrets to navigate: Jennet and her dad, Lassiter’s enmity, the astounding fact of Spark Jaxley’s presence.

Not to mention a game that held layers of deadly magic.

CHAPTER TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet hadn’t ever been so deep inside VirtuMax’s headquarters. As the receptionist led her, Tam, and Coranne Smith down the hall, she couldn’t help peeking into the rooms they passed. Mostly just people sitting in front of screens—until they got to the tech hub.

It was a huge round space, divided by partial walls that didn’t reach the high ceiling. Each section featured a different type of VirtuMax’s products—an array of Slix systems with five people geared up and playing, a bank of netscreens showing the games the company had developed over the years, and in the back, spotlit like star performers, the FullD sim-systems.

The receptionist marched up to a black-haired man standing in the middle of the hub. “Here are your subjects, Mr. Chon,” she said. “I’ve alerted Miss Jaxley, Mr. Carter, and Roy Lassiter to come down.”

“Thanks.” The man nodded his dismissal, then turned to face the newcomers, his expression unreadable. “As soon as the others join us, I’ll give you the intro speech. Meantime, sit tight.”

There weren’t any chairs. Jennet shot Tam a look, then turned, getting a feel for the place. The hum of running equipment underlaid the pings and occasional explosions coming from the games. It was like being in a sim café—except the gamers were oddly silent. No whoops of joy or exclamations of distress. When playing became a job, did it really take all the fun out of it? Or were the players just more self-conscious, gaming under scrutiny? She’d know soon enough.

Tam nudged her with his elbow, and she looked up to see Roy Lassiter coming toward them. His face was set in a scowl that didn’t do much for his already ordinary looks.

“Jennet Carter. Dragging your trash behind you, I see. You should have left the Exie back in the slums—where he belongs.”

“Shut it, Roy.” She felt Tam clench with anger beside her. “He’s a better gamer than you are, and you know it. Or did your forget that duel you guys fought?”

“Oh, I remember.” Roy’s mouth twisted, and he glared at Tam. “Just stay out of my way.”

“I plan on it.” Tam glared right back.

Jennet folded her arms. “If that’s the thanks we get for saving you, Roy, maybe we should have left you in the Bright King’s court after all.”

“Like I should thank you for ruining my life?”

She was opening her mouth to reply when Spark Jaxley walked into the room.

The hub suddenly buzzed with activity, as though the queen bee had arrived. Players and techs set aside what they were doing and came to cluster around the magenta-haired gamer, their voices full of praise and admiration. Her security guys stood back and let her shake hands and exchange words with her fans—which seemed to be all of VirtuMax.

“Miss Jaxley!” Mr. Chon waved for her attention. “Please join the briefing. Everyone else, get back to work.”

With a smile of regret that looked real, Spark Jaxley moved away from the throng of admirers and came to join the rest of the team. Two of her entourage followed.

“Sorry,” she said. Her voice was low and husky. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’d hope not.” Mr. Chon glanced at her security guys. “These gentlemen won’t be necessary. You do understand that the beta testing is under the utmost protection. They’re welcome to wait with the rest of your people, in the suite.”

Jennet raised her brows. Spark Jaxley got a suite. Of course. Probably she’d have a gourmet meal catered in for lunch, while the rest of them ate at the employee cafeteria.

Spark nodded, then exchanged a few low words with her men. They left, no doubt back to donuts and coffee.

“All right.” The black-haired man swept his gaze over them. “We’re missing—ah, there you are, Mr. Carter.”

“Ready when you are, Mr. Chon.”

Jennet’s dad came over to her. She noticed he didn’t look at Tam, standing on her other side. Awkward. She’d be simming with her dad and her off-limits boyfriend, inside a computer game that could kill them. Fun times.

“Now we just need Mr. Fanalua,” Mr. Chon said.

Zeg. Jennet rubbed at the burn scar on her left palm. Would he make it? For Tam’s sake, she hoped so. She glanced at Tam, noting the tightness of his shoulders, the wary look in his green eyes. Having Zeg here wouldn’t fix everything, but it would help.

Mr. Chon’s messager pinged. Frowning, he looked down at it, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Our final team member is on the way. I expect you all to be prompt in the future.”

“I was here in plenty of time,” Roy said. “It’s those townies—unreliable.”

“Hey.” Tam stepped forward.

Jennet set her hand on his arm, willing him to relax. If he rose to Roy’s baiting, they’d never get anywhere. Spark Jaxley watched the interchange, one bright eyebrow cocked. Clearly, she didn’t miss much.

On the other hand, Coranne Smith was staring off to the side, seemingly lost in her own thoughts and paying no attention to the undercurrents swirling between Tam, Jennet, and Roy.

The receptionist marched up to the group with a slightly breathless Zeg in her wake. She delivered him without a word, then turned on her heel and clacked back down the hall.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Zeg said.

He smiled, looking like a big bear, all beard and frizzy brown hair. His eyes were sharp, though—skimming over the assembled team and probably taking in way more than he’d ever let on.

Mr. Chon sniffed, then glanced at the glowing clock numerals prominently displayed on the wall above them. “I expect dedication, people. Dedication means you’re here on time. Now, we’re behind schedule, so listen up and hold any questions until the end.”

Zeg shrugged out of his jacket, and moved to stand beside Tam. Jennet could practically hear the anxiety humming through Tam ease off.

“Welcome to the tech hub,” the team leader continued. “I’m Lan Chon, and I’m in charge of this beta testing. Any problems or issues with the game or setup, let me know. We’re here to iron out the bugs. I understand some of you have experience playing earlier versions of Feyland.”

He paused, his gaze questioning—though surely he already knew who had been in-game before. This was just to inform the rest of the team.

“Yeah,” Roy said, crossing his arms.

Jennet and Tam simply nodded.

“Forget anything you think you know about the game. We’ve made a number of changes since…” Mr. Chon cleared his throat. “The content has been reconfigured.”

Jennet knew the words he’d just swallowed. Since Thomas Rimer, the lead developer, had died. In his sim chair. Playing Feyland. She shivered.

“VirtuMax is looking to launch the FullD system with Feyland in three weeks, so we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Coranne Smith shifted, and Roy muttered something under his breath.

Mr. Chon held up one hand. “Yes, it’s a tight deadline. That’s why we need you here every weekend and most afternoons. The company has some ground to make up, since the game’s… restructuring. Which is why we insist on punctuality.” He glanced at Zeg, who just looked complacently back at him.

Three weeks. Jennet bit her lip, hard. Despite what Mr. Chon said, she had the cold suspicion Feyland wasn’t that different. Maybe the game interface had changed but, deeper in, things were no doubt as magically treacherous as ever.

Tam’s hand brushed against hers, like he knew what she was thinking. How could they keep VirtuMax from ever releasing Feyland?

Because once the game was out, the mortal world would never be the same.

Mr. Chon led them to the back of the hub. “This is the FullD area. Each of you has been assigned a sim system.”

He gestured to the row of premium sim chairs, the gleaming helmets, the gloves studded with LEDs. Behind her, she heard Zeg pull in an awed breath.

“There are tablets at each of the chairs,” their team leader continued. “At the end of every hour-long session, please take the time to note down any questions, concerns, or unusual events that might have occurred during that time.”

Unusual events? She glanced at Roy. Had he managed to convince his CEO mom that something was severely tweaked with this game?

“Please locate and stand beside the system marked with your name. Your tablets are pre-loaded with the information you’ve provided, so please, make sure you’re in the right place.”

The endless questionnaires from VirtuMax had asked everything: age, likes and dislikes, every scrap of gaming experience she’d ever had. The company was thorough, she’d give them that. But would they be conscientious enough to actually pull Feyland from production? Provided she and Tam could prove how dangerous the game was.

“Scuse me,” Roy said. “Can’t I just play at home, on my system there? I mean, won’t that be more like the average player’s experience?”

Mr. Chon frowned. “Feyland and the FullD are configured for multiplayer immersion. These systems have been tuned to perform together. So, no, you can’t go off and play at home.”

“But I have three systems networked. Couldn’t I take a couple others with me—one or two of the leet players?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Spark Jaxley, obviously trying to get in good with her.

“I’m aware you have equipment at home.” Mr. Chon’s voice was cool. “However, we need you to remain in a supervised and controlled environment. Whatever you choose to do in your spare time is your business, but if you want to be on the beta team, you play here.”

Roy huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

Mr. Chon set his hand on the back of the first sim chair. “You’re at this end, Roy.” He continued down the line. “Coranne, you’re next, then Miss Jaxley. Mr. Linn, Miss Carter, Mr. Carter, and Mr. Fanalua here, at the other end. Please take your places and sign in on the provided tablets.”

Roy shot Tam a venomous glare—clearly he wanted to be the one sitting next to Spark Jaxley. Not that it mattered. Once they were in-game, they’d all be in the same space. Or would they? Jennet already knew there were two pathways in Feyland, one leading to the Dark Court, one to the Bright. Both were full of danger.

And what about the mysterious other path? The one she and Tam had been told would open before them when they needed to find it? She’d caught a glimpse of it, once, an eerily luminous circle of thin-stalked purple mushrooms.

Throat dry, she settled in her chair, glad to have Tam and her dad flanking her. Maybe it didn’t matter who she was next to, but she found it comforting. She picked up her tablet and signed in. As she pulled on the sim gloves, Mr. Chon continued with his briefing.

“I won’t be accompanying you in-game. Your helmets are fed into a flat-screen array, which I’ll be monitoring with my developers. Coranne Smith will be acting as company liaison inside Feyland. If you have an issue, let her know. She’s been entrusted with the game master codes and overrides. Please take careful note of any problems you encounter, and fully log your report onto your tablet at the break.”

“Do we have to all play together?” Roy asked. “I mean, won’t you get more data if there are a couple different groups exploring the game?”

“Eventually,” Mr. Chon replied. “For now, you’re going in as a group. Your interfaces have been loaded with a few pre-selected character classes, so that we can get a feel for the playability and skills as they interact.”

“You mean we won’t be able to choose which class we play?” Tam asked.

“You will—in a limited sense. However, Mr. Linn, your gaming preferences have been taken into account. You’ll be satisfied with the options provided.”

Which wasn’t much of an answer, except VirtuMax knew what character types he’d chosen in the past. The company knew where all their personal preferences lay, even if, like Spark and her Dad and Zeg, they’d never set foot in Feyland.

“Lame,” Roy mumbled.

She couldn’t tell if it were directed at Tam, or at VirtuMax for limiting their choices. Still, it was the company’s test. They could run it how they wanted. Nothing changed the fact that she and Tam had a nearly impossible task ahead, regardless of what characters they were playing.

“Gear up,” Mr. Chon said. “The point of this test is to see how players navigate the game, so I’m not going to give you any more information. Again, please pay attention to any difficulties you encounter. Good luck.”

Jennet glanced at Tam. They were going to need all the luck they could find. He gave her a half-smile.

“See you in there,” he said, then pulled on the gaming helmet.

She took a deep breath and did the same.

The visor screen was dark, except for white letters blinking in the lower right corner.

Feyland: A VirtuMax Production

Beta 1.1.004

Faint music began playing, mysterious and chiming. Light slowly etched across her vision, a delicate tracery like webs or tree branches.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND

The words unfurled on the screen. The letters glowed a rich gold that deepened to crimson, then faded to grey, as though they had burned down to ash. The music twisted, and the dim letters suddenly whirled up into a flurry of dark-edged leaves.

The last time she had played, Jennet had glimpsed eyes watching from the shadows—but not this time. Still, tension pulled at her shoulders. Who knew what was watching, waiting for them inside the game.

The screen cleared to show the familiar character-creator interface, but instead of the usual dozen types of characters and classes, Jennet had a choice of three.

Spellweaver had always been her top pick—there was something appealing about standing back from the fight and throwing blasts of magefire at her opponents. Magic was more fun than hacking at stuff with a sword, though she had no doubt Tam would end up with one of the heavy-armor melee classes.

She clicked on the next character, a fox-faced Kitsune holding a bow and dagger. Another magic user, though it was a tricky kind of magic, relying on illusion and elemental forces. The last time she’d played a Kitsune had been with Roy Lassiter. The memory left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Her third option was a Healer. She rolled her eyes. Why did the game designers always think girls wanted to play that role?

All right, Spellweaver it was.

Now to choose how her character looked. In the past, Feyland had always made the in-game avatar similar to the person playing. If she chose dark hair, the game turned it blond. It was a player’s first indication that something was freaky and Feyland had a mind of its own.

She deliberately selected short black hair, green eyes, and a small mouth—none of which she possessed in real life. There, that should give her something to report on when the game changed it. She gave the Spellweaver a different name, too. Xandra. No way that could be mistaken for Jennet.

“Finish selecting your characters.” Mr. Chon’s voice sounded through the helmet speakers. “Then enter game.”

Okay, she was ready. Well, as ready as she’d ever be.

Jennet pressed her lips together, and sent her character into Feyland.

CHAPTER THREE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Golden light flashed through Jennet’s senses… but without the disorienting lurch she usually felt when going into Feyland. When the light cleared, she found her character standing in the center of a grassy glade. She shot a quick glance at the faerie ring of mushrooms surrounding her, trying to determine where she was in the game.

From prior experience, she knew that moon-pale mushrooms led to the Dark Court, and white-speckled red ones began a journey to the Bright Court. And that one time—a shiver scraped the back of her neck—she had seen those strange purple mushrooms, their stalks luminous and eerie.

This ring mixed the pale and the red mushrooms, with none of the weird purplish ones. She let out a breath. Did that mean that they weren’t going to go to either of the courts?

Tall trees surrounded the clearing, their leaves shimmering silver in the breeze. But unlike her other times in-game, she couldn’t feel the wind on her face. She sniffed, barely detecting a faint herbal scent in the air.

Feyland was an incredibly immersive world. For too long, she’d thought the FullD system was responsible, that VirtuMax had made incredible tech breakthroughs.

And they had—but the magic of the Realm of Faerie had intensified the experience far beyond the programmer’s dreams. Yet this version of Feyland was strangely lacking. Had the company truly managed to partition the game off from the Realm, without even knowing about it?

Other figures were materializing in the clearing as the rest of the beta team arrived in-game.

Tam was a Knight—no surprise there—wearing gleaming silver armor with a sword at his side. Next to him, Spark Jaxley glanced around the clearing with one eyebrow up. Pointed ears pricked out from her magenta hair, and she had a bow strapped to her back. Looked like she’d chosen the Kitsune class to play. Somehow, it fit her. She’d managed to match her hair color exactly, although her features were slimmer and more feral.

Roy arrived next, in his usual character of choice—Mercenary. He swaggered over to Spark, his gold armor and arm-bands shining.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice crystal-clear through the speakers.

The celebrity tilted her head. “I’ll let you know when I have an opinion.”

“Oh.” Roy’s smirk faded.

Clearly he’d wanted Spark to say something about how great his avatar looked. And he did look good—all muscled and sporting a huge, two-handed sword—though not as good as Tam. Jennet shared a tiny smile with her knight.

A large figure in a hooded grey robe appeared next to Tam.

“Zeg?” Tam asked.

“Yep.”

The character pushed back his hood and smiled, brown eyes twinkling above a frizzy beard that covered most of his face.

“I didn’t know there were beards in the character creation interface,” Jennet said.

“There are, if you know where to look.”

“You rolled a Priest?” Tam asked.

“I figured a group this size, somebody needed to play heals.”

Zeg laced his fingers across his stomach, looking natural in the robes. A blunt mace dangled from his belt, but his character wouldn’t be doing much fighting. Jennet made a note to keep an eye on him. A good team looked out for one another, and especially didn’t let their healer get into trouble.

“Who are we missing?” Spark asked.

“My dad,” Jennet said.

Of course. He was the noob in the bunch, the one with practically no gaming experience. This was going to get embarrassing real quick.

“Great.” Roy folded his arms. “Team Carter for the win.”

“Shut it,” Tam said. “Not everyone has wasted the hours you have in this game.”

“You know, I think we ought to test out the duel capabilities here,” Roy said. He pulled his sword off his back. The edge glinted, sharp and dangerous. “It’s a new feature—one that will help you remember your place, Exie.”

Jennet drew in a breath. Would injuries carry over, even in the beta testing? She didn’t want to find out quite this soon.

“Boys.” Zeg held up his hands. “Save it for later. I’m sure Mr. Carter will be here any moment.”

As if waiting for his cue, her dad’s avatar materialized in the center of the clearing. He was bald, wearing bright saffron robes, and carrying a quarterstaff.

“A Martial Monk?” She couldn’t help the way her voice shot up at the end of the word.

Oh, this was just great. Not only was her dad a complete beginner, he’d chosen one of the flashiest classes to try and play.

Dad grinned at her and held out his hand. A small gray rock sat on his palm.

“Snatch the pebble from my hand,” he said.

Before she could say anything, Roy swooped in and grabbed the pebble. He held it up between his index finger and thumb, then shook his head.

“Gotta work on those reflexes,” he said.

Quick as a flash, Zeg was standing there, holding the pebble. Roy looked down at his empty fingers and made a face.

“As do you, young Padwan,” Zeg said.

Jennet smothered a laugh. It was good to have Zeg along.

“Coranne?” her dad said, turning in a circle. “I thought I was last one in. You here?”

Suddenly, Coranne Smith appeared at the edge of the circle. Her character wore all black, with a black headband holding back her dark hair. A wicked-looking dagger hung at her side, along with a spiked morning star. She’d chosen a Rogue as her character—and she had somehow arrived in-game and gone invisible without any of them noticing.

“Yes,” she said, her voice dry. “Are we finally ready to begin?”

“Come on,” Roy said, gesturing to the mossy path that led away from the faerie ring. “First quest-giver is this way.”

“What happens if we go into the woods?” Jennet’s dad asked.

He turned and took a few steps into the forest, his robes brilliant orange against the green and silver foliage. Then, abruptly, he disappeared.

“Dad!” Jennet cried.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right.” He reappeared in the center of the ring. “Guess we can’t go that way.”

Ms. Smith nodded. “There are certain parameters built in. Even though we can see the woods, we can’t go there. Not every landscape is fully accessible.”

Jennet thought back to her and Tam’s earlier adventures. They’d certainly gone off the path more than once—but they’d been in the Realm of Faerie then. This was the game.

But would it stay the game?

The party of seven started down the path, Roy in the lead. Tam hung back, taking up the rear, which didn’t surprise her. The woods rang with the sound of birdsong but Jennet didn’t see any birds. She glanced up into the riffling leaves overhead. Nothing moved there, no bright feathers, no silver shimmer of pixies.

It didn’t take long to reach the end of the grove and emerge from the trees. Set at the edge of a flower-spangled meadow sat a classic thatched cottage. Whitewashed walls gleamed, and red geraniums spilled from the flowerboxes edging the diamond-paned windows.

An odd creature stood on the front step. It had brilliant lime-green hair that stuck straight up, a knobby nose, huge feet, and big ears that fanned out on either side of its head. It watched them approach with wide, friendly eyes.

“So,” Spark said, “how do we know which Non-Player-Characters are interactive?”

“Talk to them,” Jennet’s dad said. “If you get no response, they’re just for color, not actual characters who can advance the game.”

“That could get annoying,” the magenta-haired gamer said. “Isn’t there some way the designers can flag the active NPCs? I don’t like wasting time in-game.”

“Hm.” Jennet’s dad nodded. “Maybe we could give them a special tabard or something, so they’re recognizable. Don’t forget to write that suggestion down during the response period.”

“Everyone ready?” Roy asked.

He stepped up to the creature, clearly about to activate the first quest.

“One moment, Roy,” Ms. Smith said. “I think it would be more useful to let someone with no experience of the game take the lead here.”

“Yeah,” Tam said, so quietly Jennet almost didn’t catch the words. “That’s sort of the point of beta testing.”

She caught his eye. Of course Roy would try to run things. She was glad Ms. Smith was along to help slap him down.

“Fine.” Roy folded his arms. His mouth flattened into a petulant expression.

Jennet glanced over the party. Even though her dad was the total noob here, he at least had some knowledge of the game mechanics. Coranne Smith, too. That left Spark and Zeg as the outsiders.

“Miss Jaxley?” Zeg held his hand out, palm up. “Care to do the honors?”

She shook back her magenta hair. “Call me Spark, everybody. Last names seem so formal, and we’re going to be spending a lot of time in here together.”

Roy perked up at that, and Jennet could almost see the thoughts turning behind his eyes. Yeah, right. As if he and Spark Jaxley would ever hook up. Jennet suspected the gamer-girl was smarter than that. She’d probably seen more than her share of shallow, opportunistic guys.

“Greetings,” Spark said to the little creature. “We are a band of travelers newly come to this land. Have you any advice for us?”

The girl had the lingo down, that was for sure.

“Hello,” the creature said. “Welcome to Feyland, where many thrilling adventures await. I can assist you, but only if you gather me twenty-four Rondel Blossoms from yonder meadow. Do you agree to my task?”

“Yes,” Spark said.

Ding. A chime filled the air, and Zeg looked up.

“What was that?” he asked.

“The game has indicated that we accepted the quest,” Coranne Smith said.

“Flower picking.” Roy gave a snort. “Weak.”

“Maybe,” Zeg said. “Still, you don’t want to underestimate even the simplest actions. Who knows what picking flowers could lead to?”

“Come on,” Jennet said, leading the way into the meadow.

The grass grew knee high, scattered with purple, bell-shaped flowers. It was strange to see the wind moving the grasses, but not feel it. She’d gotten used to Feyland’s uncannily real atmosphere. Without the magic of the Realm, the game seemed flat. Did Tam think so, too? She’d have to ask him, once they got out.

“The flowers are glowing,” Spark said.

Jennet’s dad opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Coranne Smith spoke.

“If something glows, it’s an indication that you can interact with it in the game environment.”

“Glad she’s not my teacher,” Tam said into Jennet’s ear. “She’d put me to sleep during every lecture.”

Her dad stood in front of one of the purple blooms, frowning. “How do I pick it?”

“With your hands?” Roy said.

Jennet’s dad waved his hands, passing them right through the flower. Roy rolled his eyes and reached for the bloom. And missed. Tried again.

“It’s obviously bugged,” he said, frowning.

The other members of the party were trying to pick the flowers, with no luck. Zeg was making a game of it, as if by sneaking up on the flower, it wouldn’t notice him and would let him pick it. Roy pulled out his two-handed sword and started swinging it in broad, flashing arcs, trying to behead the blooms.

Tam and Jennet watched from a safe distance. Beyond the meadow, a dark forest rose, evergreens spiking up into the sky. Clouds began to gather in the distance.

“You try,” Tam said.

She reached for a nearby bloom, but didn’t have any more luck than the rest of them.

“Definitely broken,” she said.

“One moment.” Coranne Smith held up one black-gloved hand. “I’m going to exit game and get this solved.”

An instant later, her character disappeared.

Roy strode over to where Tam and Jennet stood. “Ready to duel, Exie?”

“Is Player-Versus-Player combat even enabled in here?” Jennet asked. Roy had said so, but she didn’t believe everything that came out of his mouth.

“It would be good to find out.” Tam gave her a serious look.

Jennet rubbed her palm. He wasn’t talking about the ability to fight other players. He wanted to know if injuries would carry over into the real world—a sure sign that the magic of the Realm was in effect. And a compelling bit of evidence to show VirtuMax that their game had severe issues.

Still, she didn’t want Tam to risk himself, just to see if he could.

“You’re on,” Roy said. “Give us some room, blondie.”

He hefted his blade and gave Tam a toothy grin.

“It’s all right,” Tam said to her. “I’ll be careful.”

She knew better—he’d be his usual drastically heroic self. If he let his arm get cut off, she would never forgive him.

She stepped away, heading to where Zeg and Spark stood. Her dad, oblivious, was still trying to pick the flowers.

“Tam knows what he’s doing,” Zeg said. He didn’t sound worried—but then, he didn’t know what this game could really be like.

“I’ve always thought PVP was the best way to learn your character’s abilities,” Spark said. “Playing directly against another person, as opposed to the computer, always pushes the limits.” She smiled at Jennet, an open, honest grin. “Hey, when the boys are finished, want to show them how it’s done?”

Jennet glanced at her mage staff. The crystal at the end shone blue-white.

“I’ve played a Spellcaster in-game before,” she warned.

Spark’s eyes brightened. “I love a challenge.”

“Okay then.” She grinned back at the magenta-haired girl.

“Yaa!” Roy’s yell cut through the air.

Jennet looked up in time to see him rush at Tam, his broadsword raised overhead. Tam had his sword drawn, his shield strapped to his left arm. He caught Roy’s blade on the edge of the shield and diverted it, nimbly stepping out of the way, then thrust in with a counterattack. Metal clanged on metal as Roy swept Tam’s sword out of the way.

“They’re pretty well matched,” Spark said.

“Both of them have seen serious combat in-game,” Jennet said.

There must have been something in her voice, because Spark shot her a look, pink eyebrows raised. “All three of you have played the proto-version of Feyland?”

“Yeah.”

Sort of. If getting sucked into the Realm of Faerie counted as the proto-version.

Another clash rang out as Roy and Tam connected, and Jennet turned her attention back to the duel. Spark was a smart one. Already it seemed the gamer-girl suspected there were things going on below the surface.

And, depending where the game took them, she might be in for more than she could imagine.

Roy gave a victorious shout as Tam dropped his guard, holding his shield way too low and not even pressing the attack.

“Tam,” Jennet said under her breath. “What are you doing?”

Roy rushed forward, thrusting with the tip of his blade. Jennet’s breath tightened. At the last second, Tam shifted to the left. Instead of Roy’s sword puncturing his chest, the blade connected with Tam’s upper arm. He dropped his sword, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he’d truly been injured or not.

“Got you!” Roy cried.

Tam nodded. “You win. Good fight.”

He didn’t sound hurt, but Jennet couldn’t stop herself from running to his side.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He rubbed at his arm. “The game disarmed me when Roy got that hit in.”

“Your armor looks okay.”

The silver plate was unmarred—no big hole with Tam’s blood seeping out. She released the breath she’d been holding, and reached for him. A flash of orange caught her attention as her dad came over. Those robes were way too bright. On the other hand, she’d always be able to keep track of him. Hastily, she dropped her arms and hoped her dad hadn’t noticed the almost-hug.

“You guys were fighting?” he asked. “Is that part of the game?”

“Characters can choose to duel one another,” Jennet said.

“For fun?”

Tam nodded.

“I’ll have to try that some time,” her dad said.

Great. “Not with Roy,” she hurriedly said.

The last thing she wanted to see was her dad suffer immediate defeat at Roy’s hands.

“I’d be honored to duel you, Mr. Carter,” Tam said, sounding a little stiff.

The air in front of them blurred and Coranne Smith appeared, a black blot against the meadow.

“PVP can wait,” she said in her usual, dry tone. “The quest should be fixed. Let’s move on.”

“Hey,” Zeg called. He held up a purple flower. “It works.”

“Good,” Coranne said. “Everyone gather blossoms, please.”

“How will we know when we have enough?” Zeg asked.

“They will cease being interactive,” Ms. Smith said.

Seeing the puzzlement on her dad’s face, Jennet added, “They’ll stop glowing.”

“Ah.” He reached and picked a nearby bloom.

The rest of the party spread out. Soon everyone held one or two of the purple flowers. Jennet was reaching for her third when the light surrounding it faded. Another ding chimed through the air. They must have gathered enough of the blossoms.

“All right,” Roy called. “We’re done. Everyone meet back at the cottage.”

On the heels of his words, a tremendous bellow shook the meadow. Tam thrust his flowers at Jennet, then pulled his sword and stepped to the front of the party.

Dark shadows gathered at the far edge of the meadow. Heavy thudding shook the ground, followed by the crash of breaking branches. The pine trees thrashed wildly, and a hideous ogre pushed his way out of the forest.

The ogre stood four times Tam’s height, and his long, jagged teeth were filed into sharp points. He carried a spiked cudgel the size of a grav-car in his clawed hands, and his arms and legs bunched with muscle. The brown tunic he wore was covered with blotches and stains Jennet didn’t even want to try to identify. His beady black eyes scanned the meadow and fastened upon their party. With another air-shuddering cry, the ogre lunged toward them.

CHAPTER FOUR - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam gripped his sword tightly as the ogre hurtled forward. The monstrous creature lifted his cudgel, and Tam shifted. One good hit from that thing, and he’d be flattened. He’d have to take it down at the legs, try to even the height advantage. From the corner of his eye he saw Lassiter moving up. Coranne Smith flickered out of sight behind him. Good, the melee fighters were moving into position. He hoped Jennet could keep her dad back, although the monks were supposed to specialize in hand-to-hand combat.

As the ogre got close, Tam waved his sword. He wanted the enemy’s attention firmly on him. Since his character was the tank—the one with the best armor—it was his job to take the brunt of the enemy’s attack. Then the rest of the party could pour on the damage, hopefully without being pounded on themselves.

Quicker than he expected, the ogre brought his spiked weapon down in a blurring blow. Air whistled past Tam’s left ear as he flung himself out of the way. The cudgel just brushed his side, then hit the dirt with a thud, spraying soil and uprooted grasses.

Yellow light flashed across his vision—the sign he’d been injured. He got to his feet, bracing himself for the pain that didn’t come, and backed up a couple paces. An emerald glow surrounded him, and the flashing yellow light faded.

“Thanks for the heal,” he called over to Zeg.

“Any time,” the priest said. “I like keeping busy.”

Lassiter moved in and swiped at the ogre’s pillar-like leg. He connected, and thick green blood oozed from the cut. The ogre growled and tried to bash Lassiter, who jumped nimbly out of the way.

“First blood,” he said, smirking at Tam.

An arrow sped from behind them and struck the ogre’s shoulder, quickly followed by a bolt of arcane power—Spark and Jennet getting their hits in. Their enemy shook his head, searching for the source of this new aggravation, but before he attacked the less-armored members of their band, Tam surged forward. He plunged the tip of his sword into the ogre’s thigh, as high as he could reach. Damn, the creature was tall.

Lassiter hit the ogre from the other side, and a flicker of black cloth behind their enemy revealed Coranne, plunging one of her daggers behind its knee.

“Raghr!” the ogre cried.

He stumbled and went down on one knee, swinging his mace in vicious sweeps. Tam leaped out of the way, but Lassiter got tagged and went down with a strangled oof.

A second later, healing green light covered the Mercenary, and he bounded to his feet. Good thing Zeg had rolled a healer—they’d be in rough shape now if he hadn’t. Without his help, both Tam and Lassiter would be out of commission, leaving the rest of the party too vulnerable.

Arrows and spell-bolts rained down on the ogre. Coranne darted in and out, pricking at the ogre’s sides and staying away from that evil cudgel. Tam narrowed his eyes, judging the distance to the creature’s leg. The timing would be tricky, but if he could run up onto the ogre’s bent thigh, he’d be within striking range of its heart.

“Cover me,” Tam called to Lassiter. “I’m going in, left.”

For once, Lassiter didn’t argue. He moved to the ogre’s right side, swinging his two-handed sword in big, flashy arcs. While their enemy was distracted, Tam pelted forward, blade at the ready. His momentum carried him onto the ogre’s leg, the flesh rubbery and unstable beneath his boots. Before he lost his balance, Tam struck, aiming between the creature’s ribs.

“Look out!” Jennet called.

No time to pull his sword free. As the ogre bellowed and thrashed, Tam jumped clear. An instant later, the cudgel whooshed through the air where he’d just been standing. The force of the ogre’s swing twisted the creature and, still making a deep racket, their enemy toppled.

“Yeah!” Jennet’s dad rushed over. “Look, we won!”

He kicked at the downed ogre’s side.

The creature’s closed eyes slitted open, black malice gleaming in its gaze.

“Mr. Carter, watch out!” Tam shouted as he lunged forward.

Too late. A last flick of the spiked weapon, and the ogre caught Jennet’s dad squarely on the side. Orange robes fluttered as he flew through the air and landed in a crumpled heap.

“Dad!” Jennet rushed to his side and went to her knees. “Zeg, quick.”

Silver light flared over the slumped figure of the fighting monk, but nothing happened. Mr. Carter lay unmoving.

The ogre let out a low groan, and Tam glanced over to see that Coranne had plunged a long, thin blade into its heart. No more unexpected cudgel-swipes—but the damage had been done.

“Dad—answer me.” Jennet shook the monk’s shoulder, a rising note of panic in her voice. “Dad?”

“I’m right here.” Mr. Carter’s voice came through the sim helmet.

Jennet’s character sat down abruptly. “Where?”

“Uh, I’m in the mushroom circle where we entered the game—but things look strange. All washed-out and shimmery. I guess I died?”

“Yeah,” Tam said. “Zeg, got a rez?”

Most healers had the capability of resurrecting a character who had died in combat. At least, they did in the normal games Tam had played. In Feyland the rules could get skewed. They were lucky there was no hint of fey magic around, or Jennet’s dad would have been toast.

“How do I get un-dead?” Mr. Carter asked.

“If you were playing solo,” Jennet said, “you’d have to run back to where your body was, and re-animate there. But Zeg should be able to catch you.”

“Yep,” Zeg said.

He raised his hands, forming a ball of light between his palms. The silvery glow floated over to the huddle of orange robes, and a moment later Jennet’s dad sat up.

“Great,” he said. “So, did we win?”

Tam glanced at the still form of the ogre lying on the trampled grasses, the hilt of his blade sticking out of the creature’s chest. He strode over and wrenched the blade free. Slimy green blood marred the steel, and with a grimace he wiped it clean on the grass.

“Not the most elegant fight,” Spark said, resettling her bow and quiver onto her back, “but we won.”

“Dad, you have to be careful,” Jennet said.

“How will I learn anything, if I’m careful? So—what now?”

“We turn in the quest and see what our next task is,” Lassiter said.

Coranne Smith collected her own blade from the dead ogre’s body. “It’s time to break and fill out our reports.”

“Can’t we turn in the quest first?” Spark asked. “That way we can make sure this whole cycle is working, and get a feel for the game arc.”

Tam smiled, inside where no one could see. Sure, Spark sounded all pro and casual, but he caught the glint in her eyes. She was hooked, and like any true gamer was longing to see where Feyland would take them next.

“Very well.” Coranne said. “We can complete the quest.”

“Let’s go,” Lassiter said, turning and heading back toward the cottage.

“What happened to the flowers we picked?” Spark asked. “Mine disappeared when the fight started.”

“They probably went into our inventory,” Jennet’s dad said.

Spark tilted her head. “How do we access it?”

“In the lower-left corner of your interface, you’ll see the letter I,” Coranne Smith said. “Select it, and it will show you the items in your possession.”

“I guess you’ve made some changes to the game,” Jennet said.

“We are constantly refining the interface,” Coranne said. “Don’t assume you know how anything works, even if you’re familiar with previous versions of Feyland.”

“Right,” Tam said, trading a glance with Jennet.

“Hey!” Roy Lassiter waved at them from the top of a nearby rise. “Are you guys coming or what?”

The others headed back through the meadow, but Tam lagged behind. As he’d hoped, so did Jennet.

“Do you think we can still summon stuff?” she asked him.

“One way to find out.” He paused and held up his hand. “Cookies,” he said, imagining the most delicious, mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies in the world.

Nothing happened.

“Hm,” Jennet said.

She lifted her arm, her lips pressed together. Concentration made her blue eyes sparkle even more brightly, and then she shook her head.

“I guess being able to summon items had more to do with the Realm of Faerie than game mechanics.”

“Makes sense,” Tam said. “Remember how it would drain our energy when we summoned things in-game? That’s pretty magical.”

“You’re right. But it changes things.”

“Into a regular game, you mean.” He frowned. He didn’t like the uncomfortable prickling thought that he actually missed the magical elements of Feyland.

“I know.” Jennet’s voice was a little wistful. “But that’s what we want, right? A regular game, without deadly faeries trying to break through into our world.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Come on, let’s catch up.”

The rest of the party was waiting in front of the cottage, where the creature with lime-green hair stood, grinning, on the stoop.

Lassiter frowned at them. “What an honor to have you finally join us.”

Tam didn’t bother to respond, though he saw Jennet’s dad give them the eye, too. Seriously, they hadn’t lagged behind long enough to even get a kiss in.

“Everyone ready?” Spark stepped up to face the little creature, who blinked at them with its placid, wide eyes. “Greetings,” she said.

“Brave adventurers,” the quest-giver said. “You have completed the task I set you. I shall collect the twenty-four Roundel Blossoms now.”

The same soft ding filled the air, accompanied by a flash of golden light. Tam made a quick check of his inventory and saw that the blue flowers were gone. In their place was a curled scroll of parchment.

“You have each been given a summons to the City of Stronghold,” the creature said. “Beware the dangers along the road. Once you reach the city, you will have the opportunity to gain new skills and embark upon many more adventures. Good luck!”

“Stronghold?” Lassiter said. “Couldn’t they get more creative?”

“It is a perfectly appropriate name,” Coranne said stiffly.

Tam leaned closer to Jennet. “New content. Do you think this is Chon’s work?”

They’d never seen a city in Feyland before, only a scattering of villages, groups of standing stones, and a few solitary huts. And once, the caverns of the Goblin King. A shiver prickled his skin. He and Jennet had barely gotten out of there without becoming the goblins’ lunch.

“Probably Chon and his group added it,” she said. “Standard world building.”

Tam nodded. Most large multi-player games had at least one big gathering place where characters could re-supply, get new quests, meet up with others, and upgrade their skills.

“All right, everyone,” Coranne said. “Please exit game and fill out your reports.”

“Hold on.” Lassiter held up one hand. “When we log back in, where will our characters be? ’Cause we used to have to complete an entire level before logging, or we’d be back at the beginning again.”

Coranne Smith wrinkled her nose. “You’ll find that a number of major bugs have been dealt with. You’ll return to wherever you left your characters. In this case, the beginning of the road.”

“What road?” Jennet’s dad asked.

“That one,” Zeg said, pointing.

Where there had been empty meadow, now a wide cobbled road led past the forest and disappeared over the rolling hills. In the distance the sky held a golden hue, and the wind riffled the tall grasses.

Tam and Jennet took a step forward, Spark and Lassiter right beside them. Something about that road called to them.

“Not yet,” Zeg said in his deep voice. “The road will wait.”

“Is X still the command to exit?” Mr. Carter asked.

“Yes,” Coranne said.

Mr. Carter’s character blinked out, leaving only air where he had been standing. Zeg followed, then Spark.

“Fine,” Lassiter said. A second later, he was gone.

Tam tilted his head at Jennet. “After you.”

As soon as her Spellcaster disappeared, he hit the X. It didn’t escape his notice that Coranne Smith was the last to leave, her arms crossed, her expression set. Spy for the company, for sure—and he didn’t trust her one bit.

CHAPTER FIVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet pulled off the sim helmet and took a deep breath. That had been… different. Encouraging, on one hand, that there had been no sign of fey magic—but also a little disturbing. She couldn’t shake the feeling the faeries were just biding their time. It couldn’t be this easy.

Around her, the other members of the beta team were pulling off their gear. Spark hopped out of her sim chair and stretched from side to side. She didn’t seem to care that Roy couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Have to stay limber,” she said. “Some day they need to invent a standing rig.”

“Interesting idea,” Jennet’s dad said. “Write that down.”

Mr. Chon hurried up, carrying his tablet. “It’s about time,” he said. “I expected you all forty-seven minutes ago.”

“That’s odd.” Coranne Smith glanced down at the shiny, old-school watch strapped to her wrist. “I was keeping close tabs on the time.”

“A glitch in the chronometer interface,” Mr. Chon said. “Don’t forget to flag it. Now please, don’t talk amongst yourselves. I want your individual impressions, recorded as quickly as possible. Make note of any problems you encountered or questions you had.”

The group fell silent as everyone input their experience of the new, improved Feyland. Jennet couldn’t say everything she really thought. Since VirtuMax didn’t believe the magic of the Realm of Faerie had ever seeped into their game, she could hardly point out how different Feyland felt without it.

“I’m done,” Roy said after a few minutes. “Going to get a snack before the next session, all right?”

“We’re done for the day,” Mr. Chon said.

“What?” Jennet’s dad stood and set his tablet down beside the sim chair. “Less than two hours of game play? What kind of test is that?”

“We have more than enough information to process for now,” the lead developer said, a cold note in his voice. “And this is no longer your project, Mr. Carter.”

Jennet’s dad folded his arms. “We’re back in tomorrow though, correct?”

“Yes,” Mr. Chon said. “Two gaming sessions.”

“But what about when the week starts?” Jennet asked. “Some of us have school.”

She glanced at Spark. What was the celebrity simmer going to do about school? Surely not go to Crestview High. She probably had some fancy tutoring program going anyway, since she spent so much time on the road.

Mr. Chon looked at her. “If you’d bothered to read the schedule in full, Miss Carter, you’d see that we have a number of afternoon tests lined up. Being on the beta team shouldn’t affect your studies.”

His tone implied that if it did, she wasn’t a very good student. Either that, or the testing was more important than anything she’d learn in school. And he was right—though not for the reasons he thought.

“Everyone—we’ll see you here at 10 a.m. tomorrow,” Mr. Chon continued. “Be on time.”

He gave Zeg a look the big man ignored.

“I’ll see you at home, Jennet,” her dad said. “I’m staying here with Mr. Chon and Ms. Smith to help process the feedback.”

“All right. Bye.” She gave him a little wave.

Her dad worked too much, but it was important for him to get back on the Feyland project. For him, and for her. She glanced at the two other VirtuMax employees. They didn’t look thrilled at having her dad stay—but they didn’t seem inclined to kick him out, either. Every pair of hands was needed as the company pushed for release.

The rest of the beta team trailed out of the testing area. Roy sidled over to Spark and gave her one of his toothy smiles.

“Can I show you around Crestview?” he asked. “Not that there’s much to see. Where are you staying?”

“VirtuMax is putting me up in the company guest quarters,” Spark said. “Maybe I’ll message you later if I feel like going out.”

“Great—you do that. Here’s my info.” Roy held a card out to Spark.

Somehow Jennet wasn’t surprised Roy had his own cards made up. What title had he given himself? Prince of Everything?

The gamer-girl took the card and put it in her pocket, with an expression Jennet recognized—polite, with no intention of following through.

“Nice meeting you all,” Spark said. “See you tomorrow.”

She turned and went down the hallway, her magenta hair a bright slash of color against the silver-gray walls. Two of her security people were waiting. They took their places on either side of her and escorted her away.

Roy frowned and watched her go, then stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Later, Jennet,” he said, ignoring Tam and Zeg standing behind her. “I’m going to check in at the CEO’s office and have a chat with my mother.”

“Bye,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes. As if they didn’t all know that Roy’s mom was the head of VirtuMax.

Tam fell into step beside Jennet as they headed for the lobby. She wished she could take his hand, or at least touch him on the arm.

“I didn’t know VirtuMax had guest quarters,” he said.

“They have one of the big houses set aside for visiting VIPs. I guess Spark qualifies.”

Tam nodded. “For someone that famous, she’s surprisingly real. Not as full of herself as some people.”

He meant Roy Lassiter, of course.

“I don’t think anyone can beat the Royal One when it comes to ego,” she said, using the name the fey folk had called him. “But yeah, Spark seems nice.”

Unfortunately. Here was this gorgeous, talented gamer, who—like Tam—came from a poor background, and she had to be a decent person into the bargain. It made Jennet uncomfortable, especially now, when she and Tam were off limits to one another. She let out a low sigh.

“I know,” Tam said. “I wish I could come over.”

“Why don’t you?” She couldn’t help the wistful note in her voice.

He shook his brown hair over his eyes. “You know that’s impossible. Your housekeeper would love to blow the whistle on me. No, we have to be happy with what we can get.”

Her throat tight, Jennet said, “It’s not enough.”

She’d finally gotten Tam to see that they should be together—just in time for the world to keep them apart.

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ve always had to make do, Jennet. Even this much of you is enough. For now.”

Heedless of who was watching, she reached for him. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she felt the brush of his lips over her hair.

Zeg cleared his throat. “Want a ride home, Tam?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping back. “It’s a hike to the nearest bus stop.”

They reached the gleaming lobby, where the receptionist sat at the front desk glowering at them like a black beetle.

“Care for a lift too, Jennet?” Zeg asked as they pushed out through the shiny glass doors.

“That would be great,” she said. “Let me just grab my g-board.”

Neither she nor Tam mentioned that she only lived a few blocks from company headquarters. Any extra time they could steal together was worth it.

She grabbed her board from the rack outside and tucked it under her arm. The day was cold and overcast, and she bent her head against the wind, glad she’d accepted Zeg’s offer.

“I’m in the far lot,” Zeg said. “Guess they didn’t want my guzzler too near the front of the building. Give the wrong impression, you know.” He winked.

Gas cars were still in use, but not by anybody who could afford the technology of grav-cars. Zeg’s battered white sedan sat in the very back of the lot. Missing paint scabbed the front hood, and the rear passenger-side sported a huge dent.

“Put your board in here,” Zeg said, keying open the trunk. “And the right back door won’t open—crushed shut since I got hit—so go around.”

Jennet stowed her board, wrinkling her nose at the combined smells of fuel and mildew, and slid into the back seat next to Tam.

“Close the door?” he said.

“Oh, right.”

Embarrassment flushed through her. This wasn’t a grav-car, where the doors glided open and shut at the touch of a button. She took hold of the inside handle and pulled the heavy door shut with a thud. Zeg turned the key, and the engine coughed to life.

“Is everything all right with your car?” she asked after they’d sat without moving for a few moments.

“Just letting her warm up.” Zeg patted the seamed dashboard. “We’ll be good to go in a minute.”

“Come here,” Tam said to her in a low voice, lifting his arm.

He didn’t need to ask twice. Jennet slid over, tucking herself against his side, and his arm settled around her. They were breaking the rules, but Zeg was giving them good cover. If asked, she could truthfully say he’d given her a lift home. She wouldn’t mention she’d spent those five minutes soaking up as much of Tam as she possibly could.

His battered brown coat smelled faintly of smoke, and his arm felt warm and solid around her. The one safe place in the world was right there, beside him.

“Go left out of the parking lot, then right,” Tam said as Zeg finally put the car in motion.

The motor vibrated through Jennet’s chest. Surely she’d ridden in a gas car before, but she couldn’t remember it. The vehicle bumped and bounced over the road, so different from the smooth ride of a grav-car.

“That’s my house, up ahead,” she said. “The one with the fountain.”

They’d gotten there too soon. Zeg brought the car to a jolting stop and she reluctantly pulled away from Tam’s warmth. The door squeaked as she pushed it open and climbed out. Tam followed her.

“Going to sit in front,” he said, opening the passenger-side door.

Jennet leaned past him into the car, meeting Zeg’s warm brown eyes.

“Thanks,” she said, meaning more than just the quick ride.

He nodded, the smile lines around his eyes deepening.

“Any time,” he said. “Don’t forget your board.”

When she straightened, Tam was right there. Close enough to brush her lips across his—a stolen kiss that would have to last for days. He gave her a crooked smile, then stepped to the back of the car and pulled her g-board out of the trunk.

“Here,” he said.

“See you tomorrow.” She held her board tightly, since she couldn’t hold him.

He dipped his head, then climbed back into the car. Zeg pulled away from the curb in a cloud of acrid smoke that made her hold her breath.

Despite the lingering fumes, Jennet stood on the driveway, her back to the huge, empty house waiting behind her. She watched the battered guzzler carry Tam away, until it turned the corner and was gone.

CHAPTER SIX - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

As Zeg’s car rattled and smoked through the pristine empty streets of the View, Tam tried to hold on to the warmth of Jennet pressed against him. It wasn’t much, just a scrap of brightness for him to fold away and keep close to his heart.

The tall gates of the exit slid open. Zeg gave the guards a cheery wave they didn’t return, and the car lurched under the silver archway marking the boundary between the compound and Crestview.

Back into the real world—the world of crazed little brothers and struggling moms. The world where nothing was simple or easy.

“What did you think of that?” Zeg asked.

Tam leaned his elbow on the dash and faced Zeg.

“Which part? It’s a different reality up there.”

“Certainly is. Though you’ve spent a little time in the View, I hear.”

“Yeah.”

He’d gone with Jennet a few times to her fancy, computer-controlled house—until the night Security caught him breaking in. He’d had to do it to save her, not that the cops listened to his explanation. He’d nearly been arrested, and her dad had forbidden them to see each other. Mr. Carter was deaf to their arguments that the Realm of Faerie was using the game to break into the mortal world.

Tam wished Jennet would press the issue more, but she was surprisingly timid around her dad—probably because her mom had left the family when Jennet was way young. Some residue of childhood fear kept her from pushing back too hard against the only parent she had left.

“Feyland is a fun game,” Zeg said. “They’ve obviously worked to create an immersive environment. I think it will be a hit, despite the basic level of the battle mechanics. Or do the fights get more complex?”

“Um, they do.”

And at the first sign of magic seeping into the game, Tam was going to tell Zeg everything. He tugged at the seatbelt cutting across his chest. The question was, had the Feyland he and Jennet played gradually become more challenging because of the programming, or because of the magic? He had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

“Good,” Zeg said. “I like a challenge.”

He swerved the car around a deep pothole. Things got more run-down the closer they got to the Exe. Lurid graffiti etched the sides of abandoned buildings, their broken-out windows staring into the street like empty eyes.

“You can let me out here,” Tam said. “The streets just get worse.”

“It’s only a couple more blocks, right?” The car lurched into a rut. Zeg grinned and gunned the engine, and they shot forward again. “Heh, this is better than playing Crazed Auto.”

“Ok then.” Tam couldn’t help smiling. “Turn left at the next intersection. My place is partway down the street—the old auto shop.”

It wasn’t deep into the Exe, but even living on the outskirts was hazardous. Still, it was the only home he’d ever known.

“That it?” Zeg pointed to the old shop.

A rickety staircase ran up one side of the building, leading to the flat-topped roof where Tam’s house was built. It looked tiny and dingy, like a shack compared to the mansions in The View. The blue tarp covering most of the roof was streaked with dirt, and the rusted metal patches on the walls gave it a bruised look.

But inside was what mattered—his mom and little brother. His family, no matter how flawed. It wasn’t like he was any kind of perfect specimen, himself.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Zeg said.

It wasn’t a question, and Tam knew arguing would be pointless. When Zeg made up his mind, he was solid as a mountain. A lot like his niece, Marny, in fact.

“Right. See you then.”

Tam climbed out of the car and closed the door, careful not to slam it. The vehicle seemed held together with wire and hope. But Zeg was good with mechanics, always fixing the consoles and interfaces at his sim café. As Zeg drove off, Tam half-expected the car to leave a trail of random parts and spewed oil behind, but it held together.

Kind of like Tam’s life. Holding together.

He went up the stairs, skipping the spongiest tread, and fished his keys out of his pocket. It took a couple of jingling moments to undo all the locks and deadbolts, but the old-fashioned tech was the only way to really be secure. Electronic scan locks were laughably easy to hack—at least, the ones they could afford.

And although it didn’t look like they had anything worth stealing, there was a big wad of cash hidden in his mom’s bedroom. Payoff from VirtuMax, after their game had put him into a coma. Blood money.

Plus, locked in the empty auto shop downstairs sat a brand-new Zing model sim-system he still couldn’t bring himself to play. He knew he’d love it, but it would be an admission that things were all right, that VirtuMax had paid off their debt.

Which they hadn’t. His life was worth more than a game system.

That debt would pale to nothing, though, if the fey folk managed to break through into the mortal world. All the cash and prime sim-systems in the world wouldn’t be worth a thing.

The memory of the Dark Queen shivered through him. Midnight-deep eyes, black hair tangled with stars, her voice like burnt sugar and roses. She could command anyone. She could hold the world enthralled.

“Tam!” His little brother’s voice cut through his reverie. “Come in quick and look at this one.”

Tam shook his head, hard, and forced himself back to the present. He pushed the door open, then made sure to do up all the locks again before turning to see what the Bug was doing.

The floor of their living room was littered with folded paper airplanes, made from torn pages of ancient magazines. His brother stood, poised on the couch. He gave Tam a huge grin, then launched a plane straight at Tam’s face.

“Hey!” Tam ducked.

“Did you see it? It took me lots of tries, but I finally got it right. ’Cause it needs weight to fly, which is weird for something that’s supposed to go in the air.”

“Good job.” Tam glanced around the room. The kitchen alcove was empty and the bedroom door closed. His throat tightened. “Where’s Mom?”

“Sleeping. She told me not to set anything on fire.”

Tam let out a low breath. Mom was still home, not out roving the streets. And at least the Bug had listened to her—although the kitchen seemed messier than usual. Tam squinted.

“Peter, what did you use for ballast?”

“For which?”

His little brother plopped down and began making another plane.

“What did you weight the planes with?”

“First I tried extra paper, but that didn’t work. And then I thought maybe pieces of a plate, but it was too heavy, so I kept looking for just the right stuff.”

That explained the broken dish. And the tipped-over container of dry rice.

“You used rice?”

“Yeah—it’s perfect. Except it spills out a little.”

Tam looked at the floor—what he could see of it through the strewn and folded pages. Sure enough, little white bits were scattered all over. Still, a broken plate and some rice spread around were minimal compared to the mess the Bug usually made when unsupervised. At least the kid hadn’t gone downstairs and decided to take apart the Zing system to see how it worked.

“We’ll have to clean up in a minute, ok?” Tam said.

His brother made a pouty face. “I wanna show you how to make one. Please, Tam, please.”

“Alright.”

He sat beside the Bug, his hands busy folding paper—but he couldn’t help glancing at Mom’s closed door. It started this way. She’d go off her meds and sleep and sleep. And then, one morning, they’d wake up and she’d be gone. Or they’d come home from school to an empty house, the space where she should be cold and aching.

His fingers clenched hard around the plane he was making.

“Aw, Tam,” his brother said. “You ruined it. Now you have to start over.”

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t that always the way.

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The next morning, Jennet wanted to wait in the VirtuMax lobby for Tam, but her dad hustled her along to the testing hub. Everyone was there—except Tam and Zeg. She glanced at the glowing numbers on the wall and bit her lip. Three minutes before the townies were unforgivably late.

Roy nudged her. “Maybe if your boyfriend had some modern tech, he’d be able to keep up with the basics. You know, like telling time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and pointedly turned away.

Spark, looking sleepy, cradled a cup between her hands. Did she stay up late at night, gaming? Jennet used to, especially last summer, when she’d first discovered the prototype version of Feyland. It was exhilarating, exploring an immersive new game while the rest of the world slept on, oblivious. Too bad the experience had nearly killed her.

Now, she and Tam had to make sure the treacherous magic of the fey stayed bottled up. But how?

The last time they had been in the Realm, their allies, Puck and Thomas, had spoken of dangerous quests and a foreboding place called the Twilight Kingdom. The memory of it made a prickle run up her spine.

Mr. Chon surveyed the assembled team and frowned. One minute left. Jennet heard the warm rumble of Zeg’s laughter in the hall, and let out her breath. They’d made it.

A moment later the pair joined them, just as the clock hit the hour. She smiled at Tam, and Zeg winked at her. It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d timed it so close on purpose.

“Today, we’re trying something different,” Mr. Chon said. “The main city of Stronghold features multiple options for adventure. Once you reach it, I’d like you to split into smaller groups so we can study the mechanics of several quest lines simultaneously.”

“Great,” Roy said. “I’m with Spark.”

“I will accompany you as well,” Coranne Smith said.

Roy made a face, and Jennet swallowed her laugh. Hard to get all romantic with the sour Ms. Smith along.

“Tam and I will quest together,” Jennet said. She shot a glance at her dad, hoping he wouldn’t feel the need to invite himself to join them.

“Excellent,” Mr. Chon said. “Mr. Carter and Mr. Fanalua will make up the final team.”

Jennet leaned back. That would be interesting. And at least Dad had a healer to pull him out of trouble.

“We’ll be switching up the player configurations once you reach the end of these quest lines,” Mr. Chon continued. “So don’t get too comfortable.”

“Good plan,” her dad said.

He seemed a bit easier around the team leader today. After working with him on the data last night, the lines of tension on Dad’s face had eased.

“Gear up and head in-game,” Mr. Chon said. “Stronghold awaits.”

A minute later, Jennet’s character materialized in the meadow at the beginning of the cobblestone road. The rest of the team assembled around her, and she shared a quick glance with Tam. It was a huge improvement over the magical version of Feyland, where your character would go back to the starting faerie ring again if you didn’t complete the key quests at that level.

Jennet’s dad strode out onto the road, his orange robes swirling. Wind stirred the tall meadow grasses, and a soft, golden haze filled the sky.

“It’s better to let the tank lead,” Roy said, pushing past him. “In case of evil monsters.”

“I thought I was the tank,” Tam said in a low voice.

“You’re a better one than Roy,” Jennet said. “But it’s not worth arguing over. We’ll reach the city and split up soon.”

He set a hand on his sword. “There are supposed to be dangers along the way.”

“Yeah. I hope my dad doesn’t die again.” She glanced ahead, to where the rest of the party had started down the road.

She and Tam caught up as the group crested a rise. The road descended to a small valley, then forked. At the junction sat two figures. One was a beautiful young woman wearing a shining silver gown, the other was a stooped old woman in a tattered grey dress.

“They don’t look dangerous,” Jennet’s dad said.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Spark said.

“Greetings,” Roy said when they reached the women.

“Welcome, travelers,” the younger woman said, her voice as warm and smooth as sunlight. “Do you seek the way to the city?”

“We do. Which direction is it?”

The woman lifted her arm and pointed to the right with a graceful finger. “Your path lies that way.”

“Thanks.” Roy turned and started off in the direction she had indicated.

“Wait,” Tam said. He nodded to the old woman dressed in rags. “We haven’t heard from everyone here.”

“Right.” Zeg bowed to the old woman. “Greetings, goodwife.”

“Ha!” Her voice was like the caw of a crow. She nodded toward Roy. “Swayed by pretty ways and words, that one is. Tell me, travelers, what do you seek?”

“The best road to the city of Stronghold,” Jennet said.

The old woman bent over, her cackling filling the air. “Now there’s one who speaks well and wisely. The best road lies in that direction.”

She lifted a gnarled hand and pointed to the left.

“Our thanks,” Zeg said. “Come on Roy, we’re going this way.”

“No, we’re not,” Roy said. “I’m taking the first road.”

“Now, Mr. Lassiter,” Coranne began. “I think it’s best if—”

“Hey, we’re supposed to split up and explore the game, right? We can meet again once we get to the city, since apparently both these roads lead there.” Roy put his hands on his hips. “Who’s with me?”

“One moment,” Coranne said. “Let me get authorization.”

Her character wavered, then disappeared.

Roy rolled his eyes. “As if I need permission to play this game.”

“It’s called a beta test for a reason,” Tam said.

Roy opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Coranne’s returning figure.

“Mr. Chon has agreed,” she said, a sour note in her voice. “The heavy armor classes are splitting up. Roy goes right, Tam left. Miss Jaxley and Mr. Carter, you’re with Tam. Miss Carter, myself, and Mr. Fanalua will accompany Roy. Once we reach Stronghold, reconvene at the Lucky Tavern.”

Jennet tightened her grip on her mage staff. Great—she was stuck with Roy, while Tam got her dad. She glanced at Tam and he shrugged, the light glinting off his silver armor. They both knew arguing would get them nowhere.

“See you in town,” Roy said. “Come on, gang.”

“Good luck,” Jennet said to Tam. “Take care of my dad.”

He gave her a level look from his green eyes. “You be careful. It’s not a coincidence that your party has four players.”

Jennet nodded. It was obvious to everyone but Roy that his choice of road was the more dangerous one. But if Mr. Chon decreed they were taking it, what could they do?

The road started innocently enough, meandering through the open fields, but ahead of them a dark forest lurked. Zeg fell back to walk beside her.

“Interesting that this group includes the healer,” he said. “And excludes the least experienced member of the team.”

Jennet nodded. “We’re in for trouble.”

The sense of menace intensified as the road led them into the forest. The golden light of the meadow faded behind them while shadows deepened on either side. Tall, tangled evergreen trees blocked out any view of the sky and fleshy-leaved purple bushes edged the road. Roy lost some of his swagger, and the four of them drew closer together. Ahead, the road narrowed, the cobblestones cracked and discolored.

“Nice choice, Roy,” Jennet said.

He slitted his eyes at her. “Always have to be right, blondie?”

“No bickering,” Coranne said. “We have a forest to get through.”

Roy let out a huff and stalked ahead, Coranne at his heels. The road forced them to go single file, and Zeg gestured for Jennet to pass him. Apprehension tickled the back of her neck as the trees pressed close, filled with watching eyes.

Between one second and the next, long silken cords appeared over the roadway. Roy shouted as they wrapped around his limbs and hauled him into the air. Coranne vanished, using her rogue ability, and Jennet whirled, her mage staff at the ready. Before she could fire off a spell, or even identify where the enemy was, she, too, was wound in sticky threads.

Above her crouched a bloated spider, each hairy black limb at least five feet long. She struggled to get her staff free, but it was wrapped tightly in the webbing. The spider pulled her up with quick, jerky movements, and she caught sight of more spiders skulking in the nearby trees.

“Watch out!” she called to Zeg.

Two spiders scuttled along the branches, firing gouts of webbing at him. He dodged and darted, managing to stay clear of the strands.

Jennet pushed at the webbing. It gave a little, then sprang back. Using her fingernails she began shredding the strands, which worked somewhat better, though the sticky grey stuff stuck unpleasantly to her skin. Near her, Roy swung back and forth, his sword trapped uselessly on his back.

“Do you have another blade?” she asked.

“A dagger in my boot, but I can’t get to it.”

She managed to tear out more of the strands, enough to poke her mage staff through. Carefully, she extended it toward Roy until the glowing crystal at the tip hovered a few inches from his webbing.

“Hey,” he said, “don’t blast me.”

“Don’t worry.”

She didn’t need fierce arcane bolts of energy for this. Instead, something like a static shock to sizzle away Roy’s bonds without harming him. Much.

In the earlier version of Feyland, she’d been able to focus her mind and harness the mage power in different ways. Could she do that now? She closed her eyes and imagined a quick arc of power, reaching out and burning away the webbing holding Roy captive.

He let out a yelp, and she opened her eyes. Several of the strands had charred.

“It’s working,” she said. “Hold still.”

“While you fry me?”

“Hurry,” Zeg called up to them. “The mama spider is coming. And she doesn’t look happy.”

A huge arachnid scuttled down the road toward them. Her sharp jaws clicked together, and she was covered in a slick-looking carapace the color of old blood. The spiders in the trees drew back, though one got a lucky hit in, binding Zeg’s arm to a nearby branch.

A heartbeat later, Coranne appeared, slicing him free with one of her wicked-looking daggers.

“Be quick,” she hissed up at Jennet. “Zeg and I can’t take her on by ourselves.”

“We can,” Zeg said, rubbing his arm. “But it won’t be pretty.”

Jennet concentrated again, imagining a bright trickle of power severing the web strands. They parted abruptly, and Roy hit the ground with a thump. Before he could get to his feet, the spider was upon them. Green goo dripped from her fangs, and she raised her forelegs, displaying razor-sharp talons.

“Keep me alive,” Coranne yelled.

She dashed in front of the spider and stuck her dagger into the joint of one leg. The creature let out a high shriek and swiped at Coranne, grazing her side. Coranne stumbled. Then a flash of emerald light surrounded her, and she straightened. Still, even the best healer couldn’t keep a rogue alive for long in a fight like this.

Roy scrambled to his feet and drew his sword, ready to dive into combat.

“Wait,” Jennet cried, “cut me loose.”

He turned and sliced through the webbing holding her, dumping her unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, but he was already charging at the spider, sword raised.

She scrambled to her feet in time to see Coranne stumble and go down. Zeg waved his hands furiously through the air, preparing some heavy-duty healing. The spider poised to deliver a death bite to the rogue slumped on the ground.

“Get away!” Roy yelled, slashing at the spider’s mouth with his bright sword.

The spider hissed and scuttled backwards a few paces, then hesitated, head swinging between Coranne, who was now covered in healing light, and Roy, brandishing his blade. Coranne disappeared, and the spider settled on Roy. Raising her sharp talons, she lunged forward.

Roy darted to the side, making their enemy turn, and Jennet fired off a magical bolt. Blue flame exploded against the spider’s carapace, but didn’t do any damage. She’d have to aim for the tender bits.

“Turn it at me,” she called to Roy.

He parried the spider’s attack, then danced back around, pivoting the creature toward Jennet. This time, her magical fire hit the spider square in the face. The spider screeched and reared up, waving her forelegs.

Quick as thought, Coranne materialized under the spider’s belly. She stabbed upward, a dagger in each hand, and their enemy screeched again, even louder this time.

The branches above them rustled, and hairy black spiders began dropping out of the trees. A dozen of them advanced, their eyes gleaming eerily.

“AOE!” Roy yelled, ducking under the red spider’s slashing attack.

Area of Effect spells—yeah, definitely needed. Too bad Jennet only had one in her arsenal, Sheet of Flame. Raising her staff, she sent a wall of fire toward their enemies. Three of them died instantly, flipping onto their backs, legs curled in and lifeless. The others kept coming.

“Again,” Coranne called.

“I can’t—it’s on cooldown!”

Sheet of Flame took thirty seconds to reset. And they only had about ten seconds before the wave of spiders overwhelmed them.

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Heart pounding in her throat, Jennet targeted the closest spider and released a single bolt of magic. The spider stumbled, then flipped over dead—but she didn’t have time to take them out one by one.

Coranne sprinted toward the creatures, a vial in her hand. She flung it to the ground, and noxious green smoke rose up. The first couple spiders to encounter it halted, and then started to spin around in circles, but the rest kept coming. Jennet managed another bolt, but that still left four of the spiders, advancing to where she and Zeg stood their ground on the cracked cobblestones.

Zeg lifted his hand and conjured one of the priest’s rare damage spells. A flare of purple light sped toward the spiders, and two of them keeled over. Jennet used the end of her mage staff to knock one of the creatures back, but the other darted in, hissing. It sank its fangs into her leg, and she cried out at the sudden stab of pain.

Then Coranne was there, covered with green spider blood, her blades flashing. The last of the smaller spiders curled up, dead on the sticky roadway.

“Are you all right?” Coranne asked.

“Yeah.”

It hurt, more than Jennet expected it to. The game interface was supposed to simulate small amounts of pain—a sensation like tingling—but the point of Feyland wasn’t to inflict pain.

So why did it feel like she’d been jabbed in the leg by a poisoned fork? She rubbed the puncture wounds, smearing green blood onto her hands.

Healing light surrounded her and the pain eased, but didn’t entirely fade.

“Hey,” Roy called, his voice strained. “A little help here.”

Zeg muttered and instantly busied himself with healing Roy, who was taking serious damage from the big spider. Coranne dashed back, pulling out her Morningstar mace, and Jennet raised her staff. Blue light sizzled out, scorching the spider. Roy sliced and Coranne bashed and Zeg healed and slowly, excruciatingly, the spider began to falter.

Jennet disliked fights that turned into grinding the enemy down. Win or lose, finish it fast was her preference—and with a full party, they would have beaten the mama spider a lot earlier.

Finally, the creature staggered. Roy let out a victory yell, cut short by the sudden gush of yellow ichor the spider spit out. Coranne leapt to the side, but Roy got the stuff full on. He fell to his knees, his sword wavering.

“Kill it,” he said, “kill it now.”

Jennet summoned up Sheet of Flame again and sent it scorching forward, just as Coranne aimed a vicious strike at the spider’s eyes. With a screech that made her ears ring, their enemy collapsed. The spider rolled onto its back, its legs drawn up stiffly. Dead.

“Took long enough,” Roy said, staggering up. “Can you cleanse this stuff off me?”

He grimaced and brushed at the yellow goo covering his breastplate and arms. Jennet would bet serious credits he was glad Spark wasn’t there to see him covered in spider ooze.

Zeg nodded, and sent emerald light to surround Roy.

“That was rough,” Jennet said, glancing at the thirteen spider corpses littering the forest floor.

“We handled it though.” Roy sheathed his sword. “Come on. Let’s get to the city.”

The rest of them followed, giving the red spider a wide berth. The thing might be dead, but Jennet sure didn’t want to touch it. Her leg still ached where the spider had bitten her.

“We handled it,” Zeg said quietly, “but that was pretty damn near a wipe. Coranne’s quick, I have to give her that.”

“And you’re a prime healer,” Jennet said. “I know you got us through that fight, against the odds.”

He nodded, his bearded face thoughtful. “I wonder what kind of battle the others faced.”

“Whatever it was, I’m sure they dealt with it just fine. Tam’s a great player.”

Spark was too, probably. No doubt they made a good team. Jennet shook her shoulders, trying to make the jealousy fall off.

“I see the city,” Roy called from up ahead, where the trees thinned.

Jennet increased her strides, though her leg pinged with discomfort at every step. The forest ended, and the party paused at the edge of a steep hill. Below them, the road zigzagged to the city of Stronghold.

Immense stone walls surrounded the city, and she could see guards patrolling the ramparts. Brightly colored pennants flew from tall towers at the four corners of the city. From their vantage point, Jennet glimpsed whitewashed buildings with red slate roofs, a few green open spaces bounded by trees, and at one end of the city, a small lake, shining in the sun.

At the very center stood a castle built of gleaming white stone.

“Bet we end up talking to the king,” Zeg said.

Roy made a strangled sound, and Jennet glanced at him. The last time Roy had dealt with a king in Feyland, he’d gotten in severe trouble. Unwilling sympathy moved through her.

“Relax,” she said, looking into his pale face. “It’s just a game, remember.”

He swallowed and gave a jerky nod. “Right.”

Zeg raised his bushy brows, and Coranne glanced between Jennet and Roy, but neither of them could possibly guess the truth—that Roy had stumbled into the Court of the Bright King, and found himself enticed and bound by fey magic.

“Who knows,” Zeg said, “maybe it’s a queen instead.”

Now Jennet was the one pushing back fear, as memories of her own battles with the Dark Queen washed over her. Her hands tightened on the smooth wood of her mage staff, but she forced herself to breathe normally.

They were safe. This Feyland wasn’t connected to the Realm of Faerie. That castle down there didn’t hold dangerous, slippery magic that would ensorcel them all. It was just a game. Just a game.

“Come on,” Coranne said, starting down the hill. “We’re wasting time.”

Jennet made herself follow Zeg toward the huge oaken gate set in the city walls. King or queen or something else in the castle, at least Tam was in there somewhere, waiting for her.

Tam leaned against the stone wall outside the Lucky Tavern and watched the artificial bustle in Stronghold’s streets. Eventually the city would be populated with real people’s avatars running around, but for now it was just NPCs: a pie vendor wandering back and forth, a soldier on a brown horse who circled past every five minutes, a troupe of jugglers performing the same moves over and over in the square fronting the tavern.

Where were Jennet and the rest of her party? He folded his arms and tried not to acknowledge the anxiety crawling up his spine. Damn, he’d known she was heading into trouble, and it was all Lassiter’s fault. The guy still hadn’t learned, despite everything that had happened to him in-game.

At least Jennet had Zeg with her—but if they didn’t show up soon, Tam was going out to find them.

A burst of laughter floated from the open door of the tavern, where Spark and Jennet’s dad were sitting at a table. Tam was too restless to stay inside, plus the music loop was way short. If he heard that same sprightly flute tune one more time, he’d scream.

At the end of the wide cobbled street, he caught movement—more purposeful than the random wanderings of the NPCs. He jumped onto a nearby watering trough to scan the crowd. Yes, there was Jennet in her blue mage robes, Zeg’s big form next to her, and Lassiter, his bronze armor gleaming and a tight expression on his face. Coranne was harder to spot, slinking along like a shadow, but she was there, too. Everybody accounted for.

Tam leaped down and strode to meet them.

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been waiting a while.”

Since Jennet’s dad wasn’t there, he pulled her into a quick, relieved hug.

“Sorry,” she said. “We were detained by some spiders. Did you guys come through all right?”

“Yeah. Your dad and Spark are in the tavern.” He gestured. “We can catch up in there.”

When they stepped through the door into the rustic main room of the Lucky Tavern, Jennet’s dad jumped up.

“Is everyone here?” he asked, craning his neck.

“Yes,” Coranne said in a dry voice. “Every pixel intact.”

“I just wanted to make sure.” Mr. Carter gave Jennet a close look.

Even though Jennet’s dad hadn’t directly experienced the dangers of Feyland, he’d seen the effects. Even if he still didn’t believe. Tam was glad to know he wasn’t the only one who’d had dire thoughts about the rest of the party lying mangled and perma-dead on the side of the road.

Roy strode over to the hearth, where a large fire burned cheerfully without giving off any heat.

“We had a fierce battle,” he said. “Not one of those simple fights. What did your party encounter?” He narrowed his eyes at Tam.

“A few bogles,” Tam said. “Pretty easy to dispatch.”

“I even took one on myself.” Jennet’s dad sounded proud.

Spark nodded, her magenta hair catching the light. “Four of them sprang up out of the ground, but it wasn’t a hard fight. Five minutes, and we were on our way.”

Jennet glanced at Roy. “Next time, maybe pay better attention to your options,” she said.

“Whatever.” He moved to the scuffed wooden bar. “Do they have ale here?”

“Yeah,” Spark said. “It tastes like bananas. So do the oat cakes.”

“Still?” Mr. Carter shook his head. “I thought they’d fixed that part of the interface.”

“Other issues have taken priority,” Coranne said. “I assure you, resolving the taste component is on the debug list. Speaking of which, it’s time to log out. It’s crucial that everyone note down their impressions of the journey to Stronghold.”

“Great,” Spark said. “I’d like some lunch that doesn’t taste like banana.”

“The company has provided sandwiches and other items,” Coranne said. “We still have an afternoon session to complete.”

Tam met Jennet’s eyes. Another session where the two of them would be able to split off from the main group. And hopefully find the Realm and get some answers.

After lunch, the beta team assembled in-game at the Lucky Tavern. Tam stayed beside Jennet, impatience tickling his ribcage. This was their chance to get back into the Realm of Faerie, where they could do something. This version of Feyland seemed fine, but it was tame. Too tame, like a tiger pretending to be a domesticated kitty. He didn’t trust it one bit.

“Have fun, everybody,” Zeg said, then nodded at Jennet’s dad. “We’re going to grab our quests.”

Lassiter made a face. “Pretty sweet deal, Mr. Chon just sending you upstairs at the inn.”

“Age has its privileges.” Zeg smiled.

“More like being noobs has its privileges,” Lassiter mumbled under his breath, so the adults wouldn’t hear.

Spark gave him a sharp glance. “I checked out the city map, and our quests aren’t far. We pick them up just inside the castle.”

Lassiter swallowed. Like Tam and Jennet, he knew any court in Feyland could be dangerous beyond imagining. Still, fear was never an excuse for acting like an ass.

Jennet set her hand on her dad’s arm. “Be careful, all right?”

“You, too.” His blue eyes, so much like his daughter’s, went from Jennet to Tam.

“We have the rest of the afternoon to explore our questlines,” Coranne said. “Mr. Chon will send a game-wide message twenty minutes before logout. That should give you time to finish up what you’re doing. Good luck, everyone.”

The group murmured farewells and good wishes. Once outside the tavern, Spark, Lassiter, and Coranne strode up the wide main street leading to the castle. Spark turned and gave them a wave before the buildings blocked them from sight.

Finally, Tam and Jennet were alone. He hoped their fey allies were paying attention.

“Mr. Chon said we pick up our quests at the lake,” Jennet said.

“This way,” Tam said, leading her down a small passageway between the tavern and the shop next door. She gave him a curious look, but didn’t argue.

Spark wasn’t the only one who’d taken a quick glance at the city map. Navigating the streets and alleys of Stronghold was cake compared to the routes he had to take in and out of the Exe.

A few minutes later they stood at the lake’s edge. Short grass led to the wind-ruffled water, which lapped calmly at the shore. Scattered trees gave the area a park-like feeling, despite the massive stone walls of the city rising along the lake’s other side.

“Over there.” Jennet pointed to a cluster of NPCs gathered at the far end of the water.

As they got closer, Tam saw that they were two men and a woman, dressed in the quasi-medieval clothes most residents of Stronghold wore. Behind the trio, though, was a smaller figure—one who wasn’t standing still with computer-generated patience. Tam squinted, making out tattered garments like windblown leaves, bright eyes, and a mischievous, ageless grin.

“Is that…”

“Puck!” Jennet hurried forward.

The sprite nodded up at them, then laid a long, crooked finger across his lips. With his other hand he gestured to the NPCs. Clearly Puck didn’t want his presence revealed to whatever tracking devices the VirtuMax people were using to watch the game-play.

“Right.” Tam cleared his throat. “Sorry you stepped in the muck, Jennet. But here are our quest givers.”

She nodded, and turned to the quest givers. “Greetings.”

“Greetings, travelers,” the woman said. “Do you yearn for adventure, and to serve the crown?”

Jennet glanced at Tam.

“We do,” he said, hoping they hadn’t just made a promise to the fey folk.

Surely Puck would keep them out of that kind of trouble.

“The princess lies ill in the castle,” the shorter of the two men said. “To save her, the healers require special herbs not found near our city.”

“Rue, Sweetmeadow, and Briarblossom,” the woman said. “They can be found only in the meadows of Tir. We require adventurers who will go forth and collect these herbs, braving the dangers that lie beyond our walls. Are you bold enough?”

“Yes,” Jennet said. “Which way do we go?”

“Yonder,” the taller man said, pointing toward the stone wall. “Beyond Stronghold, to the west, lie the meadows of Tir. Go there, and fulfill your quest.”

As he spoke, the wall shimmered and an arched wooden door appeared, just tall enough for Jennet and Tam to pass through.

“The princess’s life depends upon your success,” the woman said. “Good luck, and make haste.”

Tam glanced at Puck, who nodded to the doorway. Whatever the sprite was up to, it lay outside the city walls.

Jennet strode to the door, which swung open at her approach. Puck darted in front of them, slipping through the archway like a blown leaf. When Jennet stepped through, she let out a strangled gasp, and Tam hurried after her, hand on his sword.

A second later, he understood why. As he passed through the arched doorway, the world tilted. Golden light swirled across his vision, and queasy dizziness settled in his stomach. He blinked and stumbled, trying to regain his bearings.

The city was gone. The simple meadows and forests surrounding it, gone. He and Jennet stood on a narrow path winding through a grove of white-barked trees. The sky above them was full of pearlescent light, like the edge of dawn. Or twilight. He shivered.

Now they were truly in the Realm of Faerie.

CHAPTER NINE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet took a breath, exhaling the vertigo out of her system. To her relief, Tam appeared beside her a heartbeat later. She expected to be standing in the middle of a faerie ring, but instead pale-barked trees surrounded them, glowing faintly in the half light.

“Puck,” she said “Are you here?”

“Where else would I be?” The sprite appeared before them, floating cross-legged in the air.

“We’re back in the Realm now, aren’t we?” Tam said. “How did you do that?”

“Doorways exist to be passed through.”

The sprite grinned and snapped his fingers. A ball of white light bloomed above his palm. It illuminated the trees, making odd shadows twist and dance at the corners of her vision.

“Yes, but where in the Realm?” Jennet peered between the white-barked trunks, the back of her neck prickling.

“At the edges,” Puck said. “A place where winning or losing carries a high cost indeed.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” Worry gave her words a sharp edge. “Is the FullD interface unsafe? Are the Courts really giving up trying to break into the human world? What about—”

“Cease,” Puck said. “I cannot answer your questions. I can only show you the way you must take in order to discover the answers.”

Tam folded his arms. “So, we’re not there yet?”

“Not yet,” Puck said. “The Twilight Kingdom lies deeper than you know.”

The sprite wasn’t nearly as full of mischief and merriment as usual, and she tasted fear, metal on her tongue. It took a lot to subdue Puck, who had stood unflinching against the wrath of both the Dark Queen and the Bright King.

“Listen, and listen well,” he said, his voice hushed. “I shall reveal to you one of the Great Secrets of the Realm. Few mortals know of it. Aye, even few of the fey folk themselves. But just as the Realm of Faerie lies across the veil from your world, so the Twilight Kingdom lies hidden beyond the Realm, a dark jewel at the heart of all our fey magics.”

“If it’s a kingdom,” Jennet said, the words sticking in her throat, “who rules it?”

She couldn’t imagine what could be worse than the Dark Queen and Bright King.

“The Elder Fey.” Puck’s words shivered ominously through the grove, making the leaves on the white-barked trees tremble. The ball of light in his hand dimmed.

Okay, maybe that was worse.

“I’ve never heard of them,” Tam said.

“You hadn’t heard of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, either,” Jennet said. “Not until you entered Feyland.”

“The Elder Fey hold the oldest power,” Puck said. “Little do they concern themselves with the Realm, and less yet with the mortal world. But they are keepers of the balance. Your task is to wake them from their deep dreamings so that they may set things to rights.”

“Their deep dreamings?” Tam asked.

Puck shook his head. “I have told you enough—more than enough. Now is the time for action, not words. Are you ready?”

“Do we have a choice?” Jennet asked

The sprite folded his hand closed, extinguishing the hovering sphere of light, then opened it again to reveal a smooth white stone.

“Take this,” he said, holding it out to her. “It may be of use to you in a time of despair.”

She took it, the stone warm between her fingers, and slipped it into the pocket of her robes.

“Follow the pathway,” Puck said. “A ring awaits to take you beyond the Realm. Bard Thomas and I have done what we can to transport you close to the Elder Fey—but you will have to make your own way further into the Twilight Kingdom.”

“Puck,” Tam said, “how dangerous are these Elder Fey?”

The sprite regarded him a moment, bright eyes unblinking. “There are no mortal words to describe them. Take care, Bold Tamlin and Fair Jennet. Take every care you can, and even then it may not be enough. And now, I must bid you farewell, ‘ere our presence here is felt.”

“But…” Jennet stretched out her hand.

Too late. Puck was gone, and all his hints and knowledge gone with him.

“Is he going to just abandon us in there?” Tam said.

It was a bad sign, if Tam was complaining about the sprite leaving. Usually he objected to Puck’s help.

“He won’t.” She tried to keep her voice confident. “asnHasn’t Puck always shown up at the last minute to lend a hand?”

Tam just shook his head and started up the pathway. A few moments’ walking brought them to a clearing, where a circle of thin-stalked mushrooms shed an eerie, purplish glow. A low humming emanated from the circle—a sound that made her nerves tremble.

“The portal to the Twilight Kingdom.” She moved forward a hesitant step.

“Wait,” Tam said.

He strode over to her and folded her into his arms. She lifted her face and their lips met in a kiss that felt as real as anything. Sparks flew through her, burying the fear. For a moment, nothing else mattered. Only Tam, only the sound of their breathing, the taste of his mouth. Only the small, still world captured in their kiss.

He gave her one last squeeze, then let go.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

She took it, his fingers warm around hers. “Ready.”

Together, they leaped over the boundary of glowing mushrooms. Landed in the center of the ring.

And fell into darkness.

CHAPTER TEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam gripped Jennet’s hand, though he couldn’t feel it. An icy wind rushed around him, chilling him to the bone, and his heart pounded with the panicky sensation of falling.

He forced the frigid air in and out of his lungs. They’d be all right. Puck wouldn’t let them die on the way to the Twilight Kingdom—that would defeat the purpose.

The sense of falling stopped, though it didn’t seem he had landed anywhere. A pale glow seeped into the air, and he felt Jennet’s fingers clasped in his once more. He looked over at her, shocked to find they were lying on the ground. Eerie purple mushrooms surrounded them, and the grass beneath them was black and silver, smooth as silk.

Definitely not in the Realm any more.

Jennet lay still, her eyes closed, her pale blonde hair almost white where it spread out over the black grass.

“Jennet?” he said. His voice was creaky.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She glanced around, then levered herself up.

“The Twilight Kingdom,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

“Me either.”

He had thought Feyland was strange, but this—this was a whole new level of freaky. Tree-shaped foliage grew around them, like a wavery reflection of trees glimpsed in a pond covered with dark oil. The air held a harshness, a strange tang that human lungs weren’t supposed to breathe. Overhead, the sky glowed an uncanny purple. They were not in the midnight forest of the Dark Court, nor the bejeweled brilliance of the Bright.

Bard Thomas’s words echoed in his mind. A between place. He had once called Feyland that, a place where all kinds of magic existed.

What more was possible in a place like the Twilight Kingdom?

Tam took a deep breath and raised his arms. Slowly, his body rose into the air. Giddiness trembled through him. It was working! He paused, hovering six feet off the ground.

“Tam.” Jennet’s eyes were huge. “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you always wanted to fly? For real—not in a game, not in dreams, but really fly?”

Tucking his arms in, he swooped forward and skimmed above the glowing circle of mushrooms. Exhilaration bubbled in his head, like he was drinking pure fizz.

“Wow. I…” She shook her head and rose to join him in the air. “This is amazing.”

“Definitely better than walking.”

It felt as easy as walking, though—something he could do without conscious thought. All he had to do was decide where to go, and his body followed.

He smiled at Jennet. Despite the eeriness of the Twilight Kingdom, their impossible quest to wake the Elder Fey from their deep dreamings—whatever those were—and the danger awaiting them, he was filled with joy. He’d never thought he’d experience such real magic. Not Tam Linn, destitute kid from the Exe.

Then again, he never thought he’d have a girlfriend like Jennet, either. The world was full of possibilities.

She pivoted in the air. “Which way?”

“The light seems stronger over there.” He pointed.

“Let’s get above these trees.”

They rose higher, until the wavery foliage lay beneath their feet. As he’d thought, there was more light to the left; an orange glow cast into the dimness, illuminating the rugged silhouette of low mountains. Between them and the mountains spread groves of the odd trees, and a river shining silvery-pale, the way water takes on light at dusk.

“Race you to the river,” Jennet said, a teasing flash in her eyes.

Before he could reply, she was off, her hair and robes streaming behind her. Tam leaped into the air, making sure he was flying parallel to the ground. Those robes of hers had to be giving her some wind resistance. Sure enough, he was gaining on her.

“How fast do you think we can go?” she called to him.

“Let’s find out.”

Half-closing his eyes against the rip of the wind, Tam imagined he was a bullet, a train, something faster even than thought. He shot forward, and Jennet yelped in surprise as he flew past her.

Without warning, he crashed into something—hard. His head throbbed, his lungs clenched, and his whole body whimpered in pain.

“Tam,” Jennet screamed, “catch yourself!”

Belatedly, he realized he was falling out of the air, the dark ground hurtling up at him.

Float, he thought, and at the last second levitated enough to land with a jolt beside the river instead of splattering all over. Jennet descended and grabbed his shoulders, her fingers digging into him.

“Are you all right? What happened?” She scanned his face, her own full of worry.

“I hit something. I’m ok.”

“You better be.”

She pulled him into a tight hug, and for a moment he let himself feel nothing but the shape of her body against him, her hair softly brushing his cheek. But the throbbing ache of impact wouldn’t be pushed away for long. He let out a pained breath and stepped back, squinting into the sky.

“Whatever I hit was invisible, but plenty solid.”

“At least we made it to the river.” Jennet folded her arms. “Next time, no racing.”

“I win.” He smiled at her, though he felt a bruise forming on his forehead.

She rolled her eyes, his joking clearly easing her worry. No need to tell her how much he actually hurt.

“Let’s cross and see what’s on the other side.” She floated up, then stayed there, unmoving. “Hey. I’m stuck.”

“Can you come down?”

“Yeah.” She descended onto the soft black grass. “Just not forward. It’s like a wall of air built up beside the river.”

He rose again and, careful of his bruised head, tried to fly across the river. No luck.

“That’s what I ran into,” he said.

Jennet studied the silvery glow of the river. “In some fairy tales, magic can’t cross running water. Maybe that’s what’s going on.”

“How do we get across? It’s at least twenty feet wide.”

“Swim?”

Tam glanced at the viscous water and shook his head. “That water doesn’t look normal. There has to be a bridge. somewhere.”

“We don’t have much time before Mr. Chon calls the beta team back.”

“He won’t be able to reach us in here.” Tam frowned. “Puck and Thomas wouldn’t leave us without some kind of exit.” He hoped.

“Come on.” Jennet paced upriver, toward the orange glow cast against the shadowy sky.

“Don’t walk,” Tam said, flying up to her.

“Right. I forgot.”

She rose to join him and they sped over the twilight landscape, the river shining on their right. Just when he thought they’d have to try swimming after all, Tam spotted a dark span arching over the water. Slowly, they descended to the velvety grasses beside the bridge.

“I hope there’s not a troll underneath,” Jennet said.

“Or something worse. At least we still have our weapons.”

He and Jennet had arrived with their gear intact, though he wasn’t sure how much good his sword would do in the Twilight Kingdom. It might work fine, or it might turn to a feather or a strand of silk. He wasn’t taking anything for granted.

The bridge rose before them, made of some glossy, semi-translucent substance—obsidian or darkest amethyst. Tam set one foot on it, his boot making a clinking sound. He took another step, and sent out a small chime.

“So much for sneaking across,” Jennet said.

She joined him, her quieter footsteps making the structure hum. The sound of them walking over the bridge was like synth-trance music—all woo and thrum and random chiming.

“This will alert any creature for miles,” he said. “Did you notice how quiet it was, before?”

The Twilight Kingdom was a hushed place. Well, it had been. The noise of their passage filled the air as they reached the center of the bridge. The back of Tam’s neck prickled in warning, and he drew his sword.

“Halt!” a voice said.

A figure materialized on the span in front of them—a tall, glowing woman clad in shining robes made of spun metal. She had sharp cheekbones and eyes slit like a cat’s. Long, serrated wings rose from her back, and her pale hair fell, tangled and wild, past her waist. In her right hand she held a sword pulsing with purple light.

Tam shifted into battle stance, his shield appearing on his left arm, but the faerie didn’t rush to attack. Instead, she lifted her sword and regarded them, her eerie eyes unblinking.

“Who dares brave the paths of the Twilight Kingdom?” she asked, her voice sibilant and strange.

“Are you… an Elder Fey?” Jennet asked.

The faerie woman laughed, a shimmer of violet through the air. “Nay. The elders sleep deep within the heart of the mountain, in a place not made for such as I.” Her amusement faded as she studied them. “Yet I ask again, who are you?”

“We are adventurers from the mortal world,” Tam said. He knew better than to give the fey folk their names.

The faerie’s pale eyebrows rose. “The mortal realm? That is a place much removed. What great need brings you here?”

“Does it have to be a great need?” he asked.

“Of course.” Her words hissed though the still air. “There is no other way to reach our kingdom.”

“We’re here,” Jennet said, “because the Realm of Faerie is trying to open a gateway into our world, the human world. They’ve nearly succeeded at least once.”

The faerie nodded, her hair tumbling like silvery cobwebs about her face. “And why should I grant you passage over this bridge? The doings of the realms are of little concern to us.”

Tam tightened his grip on his sword.

“We’re supposed to wake the Elder Fey so they can restore the balance,” Jennet said, her voice tight. “Isn’t that important enough?”

The woman narrowed her catlike eyes. “It is best to let the Elder Fey slumber. To wake them is to court death.”

“It’s not as if we have a choice,” Tam said. “Are you going to let us across?”

The faerie woman tipped her sword and Tam tensed, moving his weight to the balls of his feet. He wasn’t going to strike the first blow, but he was ready.

“Tam,” Jennet said in a low voice. “I think she would let us by, if you don’t push it.”

“We don’t have time to hang around chatting on bridges,” he said.

The woman smiled, sharp and crystalline. “So eager for a fight, mortal? Very well, I will cross swords with you.”

“Right.” Raising his sword, Tam strode forward to face their opponent.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The faerie’s strike came faster than Tam could blink. He barely got his shield up in time as the air hummed with the aftermath of her blow. He stepped forward and swung hard, but she fluidly blocked his blade with her own. The force of it shocked him to his toes. The sound of their blades colliding rang out like a huge silver bell, vibrating the air with a noise he could almost see.

The faerie smiled, showing pointed teeth, and attacked again. Her blade blurred with the speed of her blows, and Tam stumbled back. He couldn’t attack in return—it was all he could do to defend himself.

“Tam!” Jennet cried as the faerie’s sword descended.

He tried to bring his shield up to deflect the sword. Too slow. Ears ringing, he watched the edge of the blade sweep toward him.

Just when he was sure it was all over, the blade bit into a length of wood mere inches from his face. Jennet’s mage staff. She stood defiantly between him and the faerie, staff held crosswise with the blade still embedded in the wood.

“Stop.” Jennet said.

The word seemed to expand, pressing outward like a sonic echo. Light flared around him and Jennet. The river below shivered.

The faerie wrenched her blade free and stepped back. Her cat eyes were wide, a look of faint surprise across her sharp, inhuman features. She stared at them a moment, motionless, then brought the flat of her sword to her left shoulder, the blade facing straight up, and bowed. Her shining hair floated about her, as though unaffected by gravity.

“I will battle you no more,” she said. “The Twilight Kingdom has found you worthy. You are granted passage.”

“What does that mean?” Jennet asked.

“It means you will not be hindered by those like myself, who guard the kingdom.”

“But we’ll be hindered in other ways?” Jennet asked.

The faerie shook her head. “I cannot answer that—but every journey has dangers. Your presence here is necessary. At least until your task is complete.”

The faerie began moving her wings in slow arcs. She rose, her metallic robes swirling around her, her hair fanning out like moonbeams. Lifting her sword, she pointed across the bridge to the dark land on the other side.

“Your way lies ahead, mortal travelers. Make haste.”

Tam slid his blade back into the scabbard, then followed Jennet down the bridge. Her footsteps set the bridge humming once more, his own strides chiming in cross-harmony. When they stepped onto the silky black grasses on the far side, he let out a long breath, grateful for the quiet.

The air shivered, filled with static, and letters shimmered in the air in front of them.

:xjk & Jenn333 rejkfjlk blta log outt:

“Did you see that?” Tam blinked, the glowing words etched across his eyes.

“Yes.” Jennet squinted. “I think Mr. Chon’s calling us back. Somehow, Puck is forwarding the message here.”

“We can’t leave yet—we’ve barely gotten anything done.”

“I know. But…” She pulled in a breath. “Look!”

From behind them, a line of silver light etched across the dimness. Tam turned to see the cat-eyed faerie at the apex of the bridge, her blade lifted high. The strand of brightness led from the tip of her sword to a clump of wavery trees a short distance away.

“Come on,” Tam said, hoping they could still fly after crossing the river.

At least his head felt better, eased somehow by the strange magic of the bridge. Relief flowed through him as he rose into the air at the mere thought of flying. Jennet joined him, and they sped toward the grove. There was a clearing in the trees, and in the center glowed a ring of pale-stalked mushrooms.

Their ride home.

He didn’t know how they’d get back to the Twilight Kingdom, but the message was clear. Time for him and Jennet to go.

Part of him was glad, too, although they hadn’t yet found the Elder Fey. The constant, dim light, the chiming bridge, the rasp of air in his lungs, all left him with an uneasy itch under his skin. Even the thrill of flying couldn’t make up for the growing discomfort.

“Do you think we have to transition back into the Realm, before we can get to our world?” Jennet asked, floating down at the edge of the faerie ring.

“One way to find out,” Tam said, taking her hand.

Jennet braced herself, but she still lost her breath as frigid and icy blackness enfolded them. The sick sensation of falling ripped through her, and she squeezed Tam’s hand, hard, although she couldn’t feel it.

She and Tam landed in a circle of moon-pale mushrooms, and she stumbled forward a step. A sky stitched with stars curved above the limbs of white-barked trees. Tam steadied her, and the tightness in her throat eased. They were back in the Realm—and Puck waited just outside the faerie ring.

“Hurry.” The sprite beckoned. “The Dark Queen has sensed your passage, and has set the Hunt on you.”

“Damn,” Tam said, tugging her out of the ring. “How far to the next portal?”

“Not far.” Puck turned and started down a dark, fern-edged pathway.

“I wish we could still fly,” Jennet said as they hurried down the path.

The dark night was split by an eerie howl that raised goosebumps on her arms. The Wild Hunt had caught their trail. She picked up her skirts and ran.

“Come!” Puck called. “Once you return to your world, you will be safe.”

He lifted his hand and summoned a ball of light to illuminate the way. A dim clearing lay ahead, pale dots of mushrooms circling the velvety moss.

High yips and the keening cry of pipes reached them, carried by a dark breeze. Fear clutched Jennet’s stomach.

“Farewell, Puck,” she gasped.

Without pausing, she leaped into the center of the faerie ring. Silver glinted at the corner of her eye as Tam followed.

Dizzying golden light enveloped her senses. The queasiness was welcome after the cold intensity of their passage to the Twilight Kingdom.

A moment later, she and Tam stood in the arched doorway set in Stronghold city’s walls. The sky was a cheerful blue overhead, and the sound of simulated birdsong filled the air.

“You ok?” Tam asked, grasping her shoulder. “You look pale.”

“I’m all right.” She studied his face. Dark smudges lay under his eyes. “This multiple-realm-jumping takes a toll. But at least we escaped the hunt.”

As Puck had promised, the fearsome hounds hadn’t followed them. How long would that last, though? The faeries had been weakened, but they drew their strength from interaction with the human world. Would her and Tam’s presence in the Realm make the fey folk strong enough to break through?

:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:

The words scrolled across her vision.

“Do you see that?” she asked.

“Crap—we didn’t do the quests.” Tam shook his head. “Do you think they know where we’ve been?”

“I have no idea—but Tam, this is the proof we’ve been looking for! If VirtuMax saw us enter the Realm, just think how things would change.”

She gripped his arm, hope and excitement zinging through her.

“Jennet.” Tam’s voice was sober. “I’ve been thinking hard about this. What do you think will happen if we convince the company that other worlds really do exist? Worlds full of magic?”

“They’ll pull the game.” Even as she said the words, cold realization settled over her. “Won’t they?”

He folded his arms, his eyes desolate. “VirtuMax doesn’t care that their FullD put me in a coma, or that your hands got severely burned. They don’t even care that Thomas died using the sim equipment, except that they lost their lead developer. It’s all about money. And power.”

Jennet shivered and stared across the virtual lake. Tam was right. VirtuMax was focused on one thing only—releasing the game and making millions of dollars. Would they really shut down the project if they knew the truth?

No. They’d do everything they could to ally with the leaders of Feyland, then turn the magic to their own ends. She felt sick that she hadn’t realized it before.

Still, she couldn’t let go of the idea. “We could try telling them, though. My dad would—”

“Your dad got kicked off the project. Even if he believed us, he couldn’t stop the game’s release. And I’m not willing to give Dr. Lassiter the keys to the Realm, are you?”

Jennet rubbed her left palm. The VirtuMax CEO had a reputation for ruthlessness, and from what they’d seen of Roy’s shaky grasp of right and wrong, Tam’s fear was well founded.

“Then what do we do?” she asked.

“Keep trying to reach the Elder Fey. Hope that Puck is able to hide our travels to the Realm.”

Beside the shore, the quest givers waited expectantly.

“Let’s go talk to them,” Tam said. “Maybe we can finesse this somehow.” He strode up to the woman NPC.

“Welcome back, travelers,” she said. “I see you have returned successfully from your expedition to the meadows of Tir. Quickly, give us the herbs you have collected, so the princess may be saved.”

Relief whooshed through Jennet. Puck had managed to cover their absence, at least in-game. What the VirtuMax people had seen on their monitors was another question. One they’d have to deal with soon.

She scanned her inventory, and there were the quest items—Rue, Sweetmeadow, and Briarblossom. She handed the herbs over, and a soft ding rang through the air, signaling their quest was complete.

“Now what?” Tam said.

“Thank you, adventurers.” The taller man gave them a digitally perfect smile. “You have performed a great service to the crown. Make your way to Stronghold Castle to claim your reward and discover what new adventures await.”

:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:

“Next time,” Tam said, stepping away from the group of NPCs.

“What are we going to say about the game-play?” Jennet asked in a low voice.

He shook his head. “Depends on what the techs saw. Be vague—say the quest was challenging but not too hard, stuff like that.”

:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:

“Ok, ok, we’re coming,” Tam said, raising his voice.

Jennet hit the X command. A second later she was in her sim-chair, the smoky material of the FullD visor between her and the real world. Too bad she couldn’t stay there, hiding. She stripped off her gloves and removed the sim helmet.

Mr. Chon stood beside her chair, his face tight with impatience. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Miss Carter,” he demanded. “Where have you and Mr. Linn been?”

“Um.”

In the next chair over, Tam pulled off his helmet, brown hair falling across his eyes. The rest of the beta team gathered behind Mr. Chon, looks of concern on their faces. Even Roy seemed anxious—but then, he knew what kind of trouble Feyland held.

“Jen,” her dad said, “We’ve been worried. Chon lost the vid feed from your FullD systems, and you’re ten minutes late coming out of game.” There was an edge of panic in his voice she hoped the others couldn’t hear.

“We’re okay,” she said. “Safe and sound.”

Though her calf still ached where the spider had bitten it. She surreptitiously rubbed the spot through her jeans. Injury carryover could be serious, but it looked like she was the only one who had sustained damage into the real world. So far.

“You lost the vid feed on us?” Tam asked. “When?”

“As soon as you went outside the walls of Stronghold,” Mr. Chon said. “There’s obviously a glitch in the game we’ll need to work out.”

Tam glanced at Jennet, relief in his green eyes. Their journeys to the Realm, and then the Twilight Kingdom, weren’t traceable.

“You did see us return and complete the quest?” Tam asked.

Mr. Chon nodded. “You’ll have to put the details into your log, as precisely as you can. I especially want to know how the mechanics of the Manticore fight went.”

“Right.” Jennet let some of her weakness show, and swayed. “I’m not feeling that great. Mind if I take a break, get a glass of water?”

“Of course,” her dad said, overriding Mr. Chon. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He helped her out of the sim chair and gave her a searching look. Obviously he suspected something had happened to her and Tam in-game. Maybe she could explain it, later.

“Very well,” Mr. Chon said. “Everyone else, continue inputting your game-play descriptions. You have the day off tomorrow, but the next afternoon I expect you all promptly at three. We have a lot of content to get through.”

Jennet caught her lower lip between her teeth. No kidding. More content than Mr. Chon could even imagine.

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The 6 a.m. alarm shredded Tam’s sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he forced himself out of his sleeping bag to get ready for school. Mom’s bedroom was ominously quiet and dark, and the Bug slept soundly, despite Tam’s rattling around in the kitchen.

“Mom?” He tapped on her door. “Should I get Peter up?”

She preferred that Tam use his little brother’s name, though the Bug didn’t much seem to care. He probably liked thinking of himself as a bug—in all senses of the word.

Tam heard the rustle of covers, and then his mom cracked the door open. Her eyes were hollow and haunted, her hair tangled about her face.

“I’ll make him breakfast,” she said softly, tying the belt of her tattered bathrobe.

“Don’t forget to eat something, too,” he said.

He brushed a kiss over her forehead and swallowed the pleas that wanted to spill out. Don’t leave us. Get better. Please be here when I get home.

She curved her lips at him in a smile that didn’t touch her eyes, then went into the bathroom.

Tam glanced to his sleeping brother. Moving silently, he slipped into the bedroom. Mom kept their cash in a battered blue jewelry box on her dresser. Quickly, he peeled off a few bills, put them back in the bottom of the box, then pocketed the larger roll.

When his mom emerged from the bathroom, he was at the front door, shrugging on his pack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said.

He nodded, not trusting his voice, and went out into the bleak morning of the Exe.

Fear and urgency beat through him, giving rhythm to his steps, echoing every breath. Mom was on the verge of leaving—he’d seen it enough times now to know—and there was nothing he could do, except be there for the Bug.

Even seeing Jennet in their shared World History class wasn’t enough to calm his churning fear. He hid it, though, ducking his head until his hair fell over his eyes, and keeping his mouth shut.

At lunch, he scooted next to Jennet at the cafeteria table. Although they weren’t supposed to spend time together, their friend Marny had talked them into having lunch with her. And if Marny chose to eat with both of her friends, well, it wasn’t their fault they had to sit at the same table.

“I need you to hold something for me,” he said to Jennet in a low voice.

“What?”

He reached into his battered pack and pulled out the roll of cash, keeping it below the level of the table.

“Tam.” Her blue eyes widened. “I can’t take that. Don’t you need it?”

“I need it to be out of my house right now. For a little while. Come on Jennet, I trust you.”

“All right.” Frowning, she held open her satchel.

Tam dropped the wad of money inside, and felt the tightness around his ribs ease a little. Jennet would keep the money safe, and in a place where his mom couldn’t find it. When Mom left—the certainty of it was a stone lodged under his heart—at least she wouldn’t take all their cash with her. He and the Bug would have enough to get them through, this time. Even if…

He shook his head. Mom would come back. She always came back.

“Hey, guys.” Marny slid her lunch tray onto the table and took a seat across from them. “How’s the beta testing going?”

“Interesting,” Jennet said. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the team? You’re a prime player.”

“You know how I feel about simming.” Marny shuddered, her bobbed black hair swinging around her cheeks. “Nothing will convince me to stick my head in a helmet and sit in one of those chairs ever again.”

Tam knew better than to ask. Not only was Marny claustrophobic, she’d been charmed against her will into playing Feyland with Lassiter. It would take a long time for that experience to wear off.

“So, the test is interesting… as in freaky?” Marny leaned across the table. “Are the faeries still running around in-game?”

She knew what had happened to Tam and Jennet, though she hadn’t experienced the dangerous magic of Feyland inside the game. Still, she’d seen enough to believe.

“Kind of,” Tam said. “They’re not in the beta version we’re testing. But Jennet and I ended up leaving the game and going into the Realm.”

He was curiously reluctant to mention their further journey into Twilight Kingdom, even to Marny.

“And?”

“We’re working on a solution,” Jennet said, pushing her lunch aside. “Tam and I are supposed to wake up some powerful beings, and they’ll fix things.”

“Let me guess.” Marny glanced between them, a frown on her round face. “Dangerous powerful beings.”

“Probably.” Tam set down his fork, tired of gumming the mushy cafeteria food.

“At least your uncle Zeg is in the beta,” Jennet said. “I think he’s enjoying it.”

“Yeah.” Marny smiled, her eyes sly. “He loves the chance to game. And the chance to bother VirtuMax. Did you know he spent last week fiddling with his gas car to make it smokier and noisier?”

Tam let out a snort of laughter. “Did he? Well, it worked. You should see the expression on the gate guards’ faces every time we drive up.”

He should have guessed. The Fanalua family liked to shake things up; challenge the perception of normal. Especially if it meant thumbing their noses at big business and fancy money.

The blare of the bell cut through the cafeteria. Jennet gathered up the remains of her lunch, then paused and touched his arm.

“See you tomorrow.” Her eyes were full of unspoken wishes. Ones he shared.

He set his hand over hers, a fleeting warmth, then let go.

Cold wind bit through the Exe. Tam crouched in the crumbling alleyway near his house and pulled his battered brown coat closer. The yellow-eyed smoke drifters who lived down the block were all riled up.

Usually they stayed inside during the day, but this afternoon the men were scattered outside. One was banging on an abandoned dumpster with an old length of pipe. The hollow clanging echoing through the alleys had been Tam’s first clue something was wrong. Two of the other drifters huddled beside the wall of the derelict building they called home.

But the one who worried him was the guy standing in the middle of the street.

The drifter’s eyes darted back and forth. His right hand was stuck in his pocket, over a suspiciously gun-sized lump. Tam had to get past him to get home—and he had to make sure his mom stayed inside, away from the danger he could feel rolling down the street in thick waves.

“They were here!” the drifter yelled. “Right here! Come back!”

Typical smoke drifter yelling—disjointed and weird—but a shiver scraped Tam’s spine.

“I din’t like them, Skeever,” one of the men curled up beside the building said. “Creepy dogs and shining girls. Get that noise out of my head.”

Tam didn’t think he meant the metal banging that ricocheted off the abandoned buildings. Fear scorched his mouth. Could the Unseelie Court have ridden here, in broad daylight? Or worse yet, the Wild Hunt?

He cast a desperate glance up the street at the blue-tarped roof of his house. There was only one reason the Dark Court faeries would be here. To find him.

Or his family.

Tam stepped clear of the oily puddle spreading halfway across the alley. Rubble from the eroding walls littered the cracked pavement. It didn’t take him long to find a piece of concrete with a good heft to it.

He slid back to where the alley opened onto the street, the concrete cold in his hand. Throat tight with fear, he took aim and flung the hunk of rubble as hard as he could. It hit the side of the dumpster with a loud clonk.

The drifter in the street whirled and started toward the noise.

As quietly as possible, Tam slid along the shadows at the edge of the pavement. He might be a hero in-game, but it was suicide to take on a nest of drifters by himself.

Almost past. Scarcely breathing, he forced himself not to make a dash for the stairs. Sudden movement would alert the men—just keep going, slow and steady.

“Hey!” one of the drifters leaning up against the building called. He lifted an arm wrapped in tattered rags and pointed at Tam. “Is it one of them things?”

Tam froze. I’m not here, he thought. Only shadows.

“Where?” The drifter they had named Skeever looked up, his yellow eyes wide. “Gimme that.”

He wrenched the length of pipe out of the other man’s hands, hopefully forgetting the gun in his pocket. Drifters were like that; barely able to keep one thought in their brains at a time. He turned his head, scanning the street. Tam knew the exact instant the man spotted him, those creepy yellow eyes locking onto him.

Adrenaline spiked through Tam, sizzling his nerves like lightning.

“I see you,” the man said. “Damn little beastie. Can’t get away this time.”

Tam glanced at his stairs. Run for it? No, it was too far, and even if he beat the drifter to his door, he still had to get his keys out and undo all the locks.

“Argh!” the man yelled, lifting the pipe above his head and rushing forward.

Tam threw himself to the side. Dammit, he needed a weapon, he needed…

He felt the heft of his sword in his hand, the protection of his shield strapped onto his right arm.

The shock of it stopped him cold. His in-game weapons, here? The drifter brought his makeshift weapon down, and Tam forced his disbelieving body into action. He blocked the blow with his shield, then swiped at the drifter with the flat of his sword. He didn’t want to cut the guy—not in real life.

The drifter seemed oblivious to the fact his opponent was now armed. Tam shot a quick glance to the others, glad to see they didn’t look inclined to jump into the fight.

Fending off Skeever’s blows, Tam backed down the street, toward his house. Unless the guy got a lucky hit in, he’d be okay, but there was still the problem of getting up the stairs and opening his door.

He couldn’t believe his weapons had materialized, but the same thing had happened to Jennet when she was threatened in the Exe. While it was a good thing—very good, at the moment—it also meant the walls between the worlds were thinning. Which was severe, especially if the faeries had just been visiting his neighborhood.

The pipe clanged against Tam’s shield, and the drifter frowned. He stared at the length of metal, then dropped it onto the cracked pavement and started patting at his pockets.

Oh crap. He’d remembered the gun.

Keeping his shield up—maybe it would stop a bullet, if he was super-lucky—Tam backpedaled toward his stairs.

“Gotcha,” the drifter said, opening his mouth in a smile that exposed his missing teeth.

He drew the gun out and pointed it at Tam. The barrel wavered unsteadily, but it was still death staring Tam in the face. He swallowed, his throat parched, his body humming with panic.

This couldn’t be it. He had too much to do!

And he couldn’t leave Jennet.

Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he prepared to rush the drifter.

“Hi there!” a bright voice called from the top of his stairs.

Oh, no.

His heart cased in lead, Tam turned to see the small figure of his little brother standing on the steps. The Bug’s brown hair was tousled, and he was still in his jammies.

The drifter’s eyes went wide.

“Another one,” he growled, swinging the gun toward the Bug. His fingers twitched against the metal.

“No!” Tam cried, throwing himself forward.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The air exploded with the sound of the gunshot an instant before Tam bashed his shield against the drifter’s chin. Behind him the Bug wailed, high and thin.

Skeever collapsed onto the dirty street, and Tam lifted his sword. He brought the pommel down on the drifter’s temple. He still couldn’t kill the man, even if the Bug was…

Swallowing panic, he whirled and sprinted for the stairs. A small figure lay crumpled at the top in a sticky puddle of liquid. Blood.

“Oh God.”

Tam took the steps in three bounds, and gathered up his little brother. The Bug was lighter than he’d expected, and warm, too warm.

“We have to call an ambulance, get you inside, don’t die, oh crap, where’s Mom?” Tam knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t help himself. Not his little brother. No, please.

He sprinted into the house and carefully laid the Bug on the couch. No time, no time, but he had to close the door before Skeever and the other drifters headed up the stairs. Tam slammed the door and threw the deadbolts, then raced to his brother’s side. The air was thick and sludgy, like breathing tar. His vision blurred, and Tam swiped his hand across his eyes, feeling wetness on his cheeks.

“Can you hear me?” He choked the words out. “Where were you hit? Please, Peter, open your eyes.”

His brother moaned. Relief hit Tam in the chest. The Bug was alive, though his body began to shake, racked by convulsions. Tam grabbed him by the shoulders—shoulders that were soft, then oddly bony under his hands.

“I’ll call the medics,” he said. “Hold on. Just hold on.”

Then the Bug opened his eyes, and Tam froze, relief turning to ice and chilling him to the bone. Bulbous eyes with irises the color of pale milk stared at him.

Whatever had been shot, whatever was looking at him, it wasn’t his brother.

Tam scrambled back, reaching for his sword, but he’d left it outside in his mad dash to take care of his brother. Or rather, the creature he’d thought was his brother.

“What are you?” he asked. “And where’s my brother?”

The thing smiled, showing sharp teeth. Its body shuddered, growing simultaneously squatter and bonier until a hideous fey creature lay on the couch.

“Not an easy one to fool, are you?” he said. “Tricksy is as tricksy does. Time spent in the Realm makes humans too clever by far.”

Tam glared at the creature, his panic pivoting over to hot anger. “You’re a faerie. One of those replacement things.”

He remembered reading about them in Jennet’s old book of tales and ballads. Human children were taken, stolen away by the faeries, and something else left in their place.

“A changeling,” the creature said.

“Where’s my brother?” Tam glanced around the single room, as if the Bug had been overlooked.

But he knew Peter wasn’t there. And the thing that had taken his place appeared less like a human child by the second—his face growing wizened and dark, his pale eyes bulging.

The changeling gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “Your brother is a guest in the Realm.”

“Give him back!” Tam raised a clenched fist.

“Ah, ah.” The changeling held up his hand, the nails long and clawed. “No harm done to me, none will be visited on your brother.”

Damn it. The faeries always had a loophole.

“What do I have to do to get him returned? Safe and whole,” Tam added. You had to be ultra-specific when dealing with the fey folk.

The changeling clambered to the back of the couch, and perched there like a flightless gargoyle. “Feed me.”

“Will that return my brother?”

“No.” The creature leered at him. “But it will keep him from starving.”

“Where’s my mom?” Tam asked, though he had the sinking feeling he knew the answer.

“Your brother was left unattended. A perfect invitation to the faeries. An unwanted child is always welcome in the Realm.”

“He’s wanted! Why did you take him?”

Another wave of anger sizzled through Tam’s veins. He wished he could take the creature and fling it into the street for the drifters, or poison it. But he had to keep it safe, for the Bug’s sake. At least, until he could get into Feyland and rescue his little brother.

The changeling narrowed its ugly eyes. “Those who rule the Realm require you to cease meddling in their affairs. In a fortnight, your brother will be returned to you, unharmed—if you do not stand in their way.”

Meaning, if he and Jennet did nothing to stop Feyland’s release. Which was out of the question, since clearly the fey folk had every intention of entering the mortal world through the game.

But letting the Bug remain a prisoner in the Realm wasn’t an option, either.

“Fine,” Tam said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

As he rummaged in the kitchen alcove, his mind worked furiously. His heart was screaming at him to save his little brother, but he couldn’t go charging into the Realm by himself. Jennet would come with him, no question. And this was important enough he’d swallow his pride and ask Lassiter for help, too.

In a twisted sort of way, he was relieved that Mom was gone, despite his anger. It would kill her to see her beloved younger son replaced by a hideous creature with bulging eyes and pointed teeth.

“Here,” he said, handing the creature a plate of leftover synthi-meat, some stale crackers fished out of the trash behind the big grocery, and a mug of water.

The changeling wrinkled his nose, but grabbed the plate and gulped the food down in three bites. It guzzled the water, then slid off the couch and began to make a nest out of the Bug’s blankets.

“Where is my brother being held?” Tam asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.

“I serve the queen,” the changeling said, scowling. “Now go away and leave me in peace. I will answer no more of your pestiferous questions.”

He burrowed into the rumpled mess of blankets until only the top of his head was visible. If Tam didn’t know better, he’d think it was his brother in there—similar size and shape, even a close approximation of the hair.

No way was he letting the changeling go to school in the Bug’s place. He shuddered at the thought. The faerie would have to stay here while Tam was gone—and who knew what kind of trouble it would get up to. Apprehension trickled down his back.

Even though Jennet’s dad had forbidden him to contact Jennet, he had to let her know about this dire turn of events. He fished his messager out of his backpack, and locked himself in the tiny bathroom.

Bug taken by faeries, he wrote. Meet me early tomorrow.

He waited five minutes, but there was no reply. Reception in the Exe was spotty, even though the buried cable of the ’net, the backbone of the country’s tech, ran right under Crestview—which explained why VirtuMax had parked company headquarters there.

Nothing like delivering evil fairies direct and high-speed to people’s homes worldwide.

Tam powered off his messager and cracked open the bathroom door. The lump of blankets on the couch didn’t move, but no way was he sleeping with that creature next to him. He’d grab his bag and crash out in his mom’s room.

What if the faeries had nabbed her, too? He didn’t trust the changeling. Faeries were slippery when it came to telling the truth.

Moving quietly, Tam slipped into the bedroom. The open closet held most of Mom’s clothes—but her yellow winter coat was missing, and her favorite scarf. He went to the dresser and opened the battered blue jewelry box. The cheap bracelets and plastic necklaces winked up at him. He ignored them and hooked his fingers into the catches of the secret compartment, then lifted the bottom of the box out. The few bills he’d left that morning had disappeared. Nothing but faded velvet stared up at him.

He let out a long breath.

His mom was truly gone. Not into the Realm of Faerie, like his missing brother, but into the dangerous world surrounding the Exe.

Tam wrapped his arms around his ribs, trying to hold in the fear and sorrow.

At least he still had Jennet.

Jennet stuffed her gloved hands into her pockets and paced the sidewalk in front of Crestview High. Grey light seeped from the eastern sky, but the rising sun was too weak to penetrate the thick winter clouds crouching on the horizon.

Her path took her near the black grav-car where her chauffeur, George, waited patiently. He lowered the tinted window and gave her a concerned look.

She’d lied to the house manager and Dad, told them she had an early make-up class, but she couldn’t lie to George. On the ride down from The View, she’d confided she was going to meet Tam. His only response had been a quiet grunt.

But Tam wasn’t there.

“Miss Carter,” George said, “wouldn’t you rather wait in the car?”

“If Tam doesn’t show up soon, I will.”

She walked to the corner again, cold air stinging her cheeks, and peered up the street. There he was! Relief eased her breath at the sight of Tam’s familiar figure trudging through the dawn. She gave George a quick wave, then ran down the sidewalk toward Tam. When she was a few steps away he opened his arms, and she fetched up against his chest with a solid thump. His lean, strong arms closed around her, and she held him tightly in return.

“My mom’s gone again,” he said, an edge of bleakness in his voice. “And the faeries took the Bug. Came into the Exe in broad daylight, and left a changeling in his place.”

“I got your message.” She stepped back and stared into his troubled green eyes. “We’ll get the Bug back. I was up all night, thinking about this. I’m pretty sure they’ll take your brother to the Dark Queen’s court.”

“They did.” His tone was hollow, with the same fear that echoed inside her. “Sneak me into your house, after school. We can go in-game on your FullD equip and get him out.”

Her heart ached at what she had to say next. “Tam—we can’t.”

He grabbed her shoulders. “You said you’d help me.”

“If we rescue the Bug now, he’ll still be in danger. They could swipe him again, behind our backs.”

“One of us would be with him, twenty-four-seven. I’ll skip school, and—”

“What about the beta testing? The questions if people find out your mom has disappeared again? I know it’s hard, Tam, but we have to leave him in the Realm for now. They’ll keep him safe.” She hoped.

“Just abandon my brother to the Unseelie Court?” His voice cracked at the end of the question.

She took his hands in hers. “Thomas is there. Didn’t he look out for you when you were a prisoner in the Dark Court? And there’s always Puck.”

“Like he would keep anyone out of trouble.”

“The Elder Fey are supposed to restore the balance. That means getting your brother back, too.” She squeezed his fingers. “Our priority is to wake the Elder Fey. Once we do, everything will work out.”

“Dammit, I want my brother home now.” Tam’s shoulders slumped, and he stared at the ground. “The changeling told me if I kept him healthy, the Bug would be treated well—at least by the standards of the fey folk. Not that I trust the faeries.”

“So, we have a little time.”

“Less than two weeks,” Tam said. “The faeries want to make sure Feyland launches. They’re holding my brother hostage to make sure we don’t do anything to stop the game.”

It was a brilliant piece of evil. Tam couldn’t make the choice to sacrifice his little brother, even for the good of all humanity. Or if he did, it would haunt him forever, make him a walking ghost. Either way, he’d suffer.

No question the Dark Queen was behind this. She had a far bigger score to settle with Tam and Jennet than the Bright King did—and she was ruthless.

“All right,” Jennet said, trying to sound calm. “Next time we’re in-game, we’ll finish up in the Twilight Kingdom. I bet the queen doesn’t even know we’re trying to wake the Elder Fey.”

Tam lifted his head, his expression shadowed. “Jennet, we can’t do this by ourselves.”

Fear, metallic and sharp, filled her mouth. “We’ll figure it out, Tam. We always do.”

Though this time, the odds were more impossible than ever.

At lunch, Marny set her tray down beside them, then took one look at Tam’s face.

“Ok, spill it,” she said.

Jennet shot her a half-smile, glad there was one other person they could talk to. Not that Marny could do anything to help, other than lend one of her broad, sympathetic shoulders.

Marny listened, her dark eyes narrowed. She nodded when Tam told her his mom had taken off again, and her eyes widened as he explained about his little brother being stolen by the Dark Court.

“So the faeries stole your brother, but left a substitute in his place?” she asked.

Tam nodded, misery clear in the set of his mouth.

“I want to meet him. It. Whatever.”

“What?”

“Look.” She spread her hands wide. “You two have to deal with things in-game. The last thing you need to worry about is some freaky fairy dude pretending to be Tam’s little brother. Even though I don’t sim, I can help with this.”

“She’s right,” Jennet said. The knot of tension behind her ribs loosened a tiny bit. “We can’t deal with the changeling, and beta testing, and the Twilight Kingdom—not all of it.”

“At least your mom’s not around,” Marny said. “Crappy that she’s gone, but the timing is decent. Considering. And this way, if she comes home and you guys are, um, unavailable, I can run interference.”

“Ok.” Tam swiped a hand through his hair, letting it fall back into his face. His eyes were smudged with exhaustion. “You can come over after school today and meet the changeling. Provided it’s still there.”

“It will be.” Jennet rubbed at the scar on her palm. “From what I remember, changelings have to stay close to home. Their pretend home, I mean. I’ll read up and let you know what else I find out.”

“Good,” Marny said. “This should be interesting.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam waited for Marny outside school. He’d already waved goodbye to Jennet as George drove her away. She wanted to come along, he could see it in her eyes, but it wasn’t worth the chance of trouble. Bending the rules was one thing, but they couldn’t risk Tam getting kicked off the beta team—not with so much at stake.

A bright red grav-car swerved around the corner and shot down the street, leaving grit swirling in its wake. Lassiter. It hadn’t taken him long to talk his mom into restoring the privileges he’d lost as a result of tangling with fey magic. Tam rubbed his face and frowned.

So far, nobody suspected the “technical glitch” during the last beta session had been something more. But Lassiter had been in the Realm, all the way to the Bright Court. He’d be the first to notice something was going on.

Question was, would he keep quiet about it?

The last students exited the battered metal doors of Crestview High, Marny among them. She joined Tam on the sidewalk.

“Ready?” she asked.

“You sure about this?”

“Hell, yeah.” She smiled at him. “I’m tired of you and Fancy-girl having all the adventures.”

“Adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially where the Realm of Faerie is concerned.”

Mary shrugged. “It’s a change of pace. Come on.”

She started down the sidewalk, and Tam lengthened his stride. Marny was tall, in addition to being solidly built. She could pin the changeling down with one hand if she had to—which was part of why he felt somewhat okay with this plan.

When they reached Stark Way, the pot-holed street marking the beginning of the Exe, Marny hung back. She knew enough to let Tam lead from there. Despite her bulk, she followed agilely through the stinking and trash-heaped alleys. Oily puddles reflected an equally filmy sky.

This time of year held less danger from the roaming gangs, but he and Marny were in Jackal territory. Tam stayed alert, listening for the crazed, cackling laugh that was the gangs’ signal to attack. Things stayed quiet, though, all the way to his place. The smoke-drifters down the block were holed up in their dilapidated building, no doubt dreaming weird, disjointed dreams filled with otherworldly creatures.

“Watch the steps,” Tam said, pulling out his keys.

“Right.” Her voice subdued, Marny stayed behind him.

Their footsteps creaked on the stairs, and he glimpsed a shadow behind the wire-webbed windows. Breath catching in his throat, he unlocked the multiple deadbolts and pushed the door open. It was quiet inside. Too quiet. He held up his palm, signaling Marny to wait.

One step inside. Another. The back of his neck prickled and Tam wished he had his sword.

“Hiiiyyaaa!” a voice screeched.

A figure launched itself from the top of the bookshelf, right at Tam. He caught a glimpse of gleaming eyes in a wizened face, sharp teeth bared, before the changeling landed on him like some kind of rabid animal.

“Hey!” Tam cried. “Get off.”

Heart thumping double-time, he tried to shake the creature loose, but it clung to his shoulders with sharp-clawed hands, pulling at his hair.

“Gotcha!” the changeling said, screeching with laughter.

That laughter ended in a squawk as Marny swiped the creature off Tam. It hit the floor and glared up at both of them.

“Nice,” Marny said, her tone dry.

“What is this?” the changeling hissed. “Another human to see me? Sheer folly.”

Tam turned and shut the door, snicking the locks home. “What was that about, jumping on me?”

He resisted the urge to kick the changeling. Someone, somewhere, was keeping track, and he didn’t want to put the Bug in danger. Though he didn’t mind the force Marny had used to dislodge the thing.

“Tee-hee. ’Twas all a bit of fun. Surprised you, did I?” The changeling grinned up at him and leaped to its feet. “Now feed me.”

“Quite a houseguest you have there,” Marny said. “As annoying as your little brother is, I prefer the Bug to this.”

“What you think matters little to me,” the changeling said.

Marny rolled her eyes at Tam and followed him into the kitchen. He flipped the electric kettle on to boil, then rummaged around in the cupboards. Not much to eat, beyond dried noodle packets and a couple of protein bars.

“Here,” he said, flipping a bar through the air to the changeling.

The creature caught it and held it up to the light. “What is this item?”

“Food,” Tam said, then shook his head as the changeling bit into the wrapped protein bar.

“Feh.” The creature spit on the floor. “Mortal sustenance used to taste much better.”

“You don’t eat the wrapper,” Marny said. “Peel it, like this.”

She grabbed a bar from Tam and tore off the shiny plastic wrapping. The changeling watched her, then stripped off the wrapper and popped the whole bar into his mouth.

“Still tasteless,” he said, wrinkling his already-wrinkled face into a sour expression.

“At least we agree on that,” Marny said, handing her unwrapped bar to Tam.

“What?” he said. “You don’t like synthesized nut-flavored protein bars?”

She curled her mouth. “I prefer my uncle Zeg’s cookies.”

“Me too, but I don’t have any of those lying around. Tea?”

“Yeah—mint if you’ve got it.”

Tam pulled out two mugs, then ate the protein bar, trying to ignore the dry non-flavor.

“So,” Marny said to the changeling, “what’s your name?”

“Are you trying to trick me, mortal?” His gleaming eyes narrowed.

Her eyebrows rose. “As in…?”

“Names have power in the Realm,” Tam said. “Generally, they aren’t freely given out.”

He poured hot water over the teabag in Marny’s mug and handed it to her.

“Right,” she said. “Than what shall we call him?”

“I’ve been thinking of him as not-Bug,” Tam said.

“Catchy.” Marny shook her head. “But we can do better. Changeling, what name do you use when you’re in the mortal world? Doing, you know, baby impersonations.”

The creature folded his spindly arms. “I am called by the child’s name.”

“Yeah,” Tam said, setting his mug of hot tea on the counter. “Except we know you’re not my little brother. Either you choose something, or we will.”

“Yoda,” Marny said.

“Too obvious.” Tam tilted his head, looking the changeling over. “How about… Bilbo.”

“Nah. If anything, it’s a Gollum.”

“Stop,” the changeling said, baring his pointed teeth. “If you insist, you may call me Korrigan.”

He leaped onto the counter and took a guzzling sip of Tam’s tea.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Tam said. He made a grab for the mug, then reconsidered. “Fine. Drink up.”

A malicious light in his eyes, Korrigan slurped the tea down. He finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then squatted on the counter like an evil toad.

“Mortals,” he said. “I cannot set foot over the threshold unless Tamlin is with me. Since I am trapped in this wretched space, what is there to do here that will amuse me?”

“What do you normally do?” Marny asked. Tam noticed she kept a tight grip on her own mug.

“I squall and mewl like an infant. I flail my arms and legs, and lie in the cradle.”

“Doesn’t sound all that fun,” Marny said.

“So you usually pretend to be much younger children,” Tam said. “Why did they send you this time?” He let the comment about his “wretched” house pass.

The changeling frowned—a particularly unlovely expression on its ugly face. “It is how the thing is done. There cannot be a taking without a replacement. Most stolen children are but infants. You brother is a special case.”

“Yeah, a hostage.” Tam crossed his arms.

He was tired of Korrigan, tired of Feyland, tired of his entire life, with a bone-deep weariness that turned the edges of everything gray.

“Tam,” Marny said in a low voice, “did you get any sleep last night?”

He shook his head.

“Go lie down,” she said. “I’ll show Korrigan a few basic Screenie games, ok? That should keep him busy and out of trouble.”

“Just don’t let him onto the ’net,” Tam said.

“Bug’s account is locked-out, right?” Marny glanced to the corner of the living room, where their netscreen setup was.

“Yeah. Log him in to that, it should be fine.” Tam couldn’t help the yawn that pried his jaws open.

“Get some rest.” Marny pushed his shoulder. “I’ll introduce the changeling to the joys of Kart racing.”

“Show no mercy,” Tam said, already heading for the bedroom door.

She gave him an evil grin. “I won’t.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The cafeteria was noisy as usual, which meant Jennet could ask Marny how her meeting with the changeling went without anyone listening in.

It had been hard, watching out the grav-car window yesterday as Marny and Tam headed for the Exe. The ache of not being with Tam clogged Jennet’s throat. Would her dad ever relent and let her see Tam openly? Would he ever understand about Feyland?

Tam and Marny were already at their usual table. Jennet put her tray down, wrinkling her nose at the limp spaghetti sprawled over the plate. The whole room smelled like tomatoes and overcooked pasta.

“How was meeting your first faerie?” she asked, scooting across from Marny.

“Quite the experience.” Marny set aside her roll. “He’s a freaky little creature.”

Tam gave a wry nod. “Welcome to life among the fey folk. Did he ever manage to beat you in Kart racing?”

“Not yet… but Korrigan is pretty fierce. I bet he spends all morning practicing.”

“Korrigan?” Jennet glanced at Tam. “He told you his name?”

“No. Just what we should call him.”

“Right.” Of course the changeling wasn’t going to give Tam and Marny any kind of power over him.

“You guys go up to the compound today, don’t you?” Marny said. “Do you think you’ll get back into the Dim Land?”

A faint smile ghosted over Tam’s lips. “You and the nicknames, Marny.”

“It keeps things from getting boring.”

“We have to return to the Twilight Kingdom, somehow,” Jennet said. “The beta team plays today after school. Tam, I’m allowed to offer you a ride up.”

“How very kind.” There was an edge in his voice.

“Cut the drama,” Marny said. “Say yes, Tam. Or would you rather drive up with Roy Lassiter?”

“What about Zeg?” Tam asked. “Doesn’t he get the offer of a luxury ride to The View?”

Marny shook her head, the ends of her black hair swinging past her round cheeks. “He prefers to drive himself, you know that. Come on, Tam, don’t be stubborn.”

“He wouldn’t be Tam if he weren’t stubborn,” Jennet said.

“Fine.” The bell blared over the din of too many students talking, and he pushed his tray away. “I’ll meet you after school.”

Back in the beta version of Feyland, the testing team split into their smaller groups and parted ways in Stronghold City. Roy offered Spark his arm, which she ignored, and Zeg and Jennet’s dad went off together, talking. Obviously they were building some camaraderie from their adventures.

Jennet and Tam headed for Stronghold Castle. The wide cobbled streets of the city were clean and shining, and a crisp breeze fluttered the green banners at the tops of the turrets. Snatches of music and laughter drifted from the open doorways of shops and taverns as they passed. The setting was completely at odds with her mood, and Jennet let out a low sigh.

Tam’s little brother was a captive of the Dark Court, they had a quest to complete in a place nearly impossible to get to, and the new FullD system featuring Feyland was on track to release in less than two weeks.

Impatience spiced her blood, every heartbeat urging hurry, hurry. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it, except act as though she were playing a simple computer game.

She glanced at the perfectly aligned streets, the flowers that were all variations on a theme, the passersby who took no notice of two real players in their midst. Finding a faerie ring in the middle of Stronghold seemed improbable at best.

“How are we even going to get back to… you know where?” she asked.

“We have to start with the castle quests,” Tam said quietly. “At least make it look like we’re playing how Mr. Chon wants us to. Be patient.”

The tall silver gates of the castle rose at the end of the street. Guards stood at either side, staring straight ahead. They didn’t even glance at Jennet and Tam when they reached the gates—but an NPC stepped forward, blocking their way. It wasn’t Puck in disguise this time. Jennet swallowed disappointment and curled her fingers around her mage staff.

“Welcome to Stronghold Castle.” The green-liveried herald bowed. “State your business.”

“We’re supposed to speak to the princess,” Tam said.

Mr. Chon had instructed them to pick up some simple quests in the city while the techs kept an eye on their FullD equip. The project manager wanted to figure out why Jennet and Tam’s systems had malfunctioned last time they played—not that he’d be able to.

The herald moved back a pace. “Welcome to Stronghold Castle. You will find Princess Paloma in her garden. Proceed to the courtyard, then turn left.”

The garden? That sounded promising. Jennet traded a look with Tam as they strode to the courtyard the NPC had indicated.

“Princess Paloma?” Tam said. “Chon sure went for the cutesy titles.”

“At least she’s not named after a fruit.”

Their footsteps rang on the flagstones of the courtyard, which featured a burbling fountain in the center—statues of mermaids and fish spitting water. A columned opening to their left revealed glimpses of greenery. Princess Paloma’s garden.

Jennet breathed shallowly as she and Tam strode between the columns, hoping they’d be transported back to the Realm. No luck. Instead, they stepped onto a lush green lawn dotted with uniform blue flowers. Before them, a half-dozen court ladies sat on an arrangement of benches. They wore long-sleeved dresses in soft hues of azure and rose and tall, pointed hats with gauzy veils draping off the top.

All except the girl in white, who had a circlet of gold holding back her dark hair.

Tam stepped forward and made her a bow, and the ladies surrounding the princess giggled.

“Your highness,” he said. “We are pleased to find you in good health.”

On their last quest, Jennet and Tam had supposedly found herbs to cure the princess of whatever dire illness she’d had. Good of Tam to remember—but then, he was a pro.

“Greetings, brave knight and fair lady,” Princess Paloma said. “Have you come for your reward in healing me?”

Jennet moved to Tam’s side. “We have.”

The princess looked at them with eyes of deep purple. For a moment, Jennet thought she saw midnight stars hidden in their depths. Then the princess clapped her hands, and a small figure wearing a green tabard came running in from the courtyard.

“Follow my page to the royal treasury. There, you may each select one item in payment. Choose carefully, then return to show me your gifts.”

“Thank you,” Tam said, bowing again. “We will.”

A soft ding filled the air—the signal their quest had begun.

“Come with me, adventurers,” the page said, in a high, familiar voice.

Puck! Jennet tried not to grin too widely as she and Tam followed the sprite through the garden. He had managed to tame back his wild tangle of hair, but his knobby wrists and long fingers stuck out of the page’s livery.

The sprite took them along a gravel path leading to tall double-doors. Jennet desperately wanted to pelt Puck with questions. Instead, she pressed her lips together and let the crunch of their footsteps fill up the silence. Thick hedges grew to either side, and she didn’t see any way out, or anything that looked like a gateway to the Realm.

A few paces from the doors, Puck grabbed their hands and leaped into the hedge.

“What? Hey!” Jennet threw up her arm, fending the sharp branches away from her face.

“Shh,” Puck said. “Be still a moment more.”

He released them, and wove his fingers in strange patterns that left a shimmer in the air. The chime of fey magic echoed around them.

“There,” the sprite said. “You are shielded from sight and sound. Now it will appear you and Tamlin have entered the castle to complete the quest.”

The sprite grasped their wrists again and pulled them through the back of the hedge. Jennet stumbled, and Tam caught her elbow, steadying her.

“Wait, Puck,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me how my brother is.”

The sprite cocked his head. “Your brother suffers no harm.”

“Yet.” Tam’s voice was cold.

“Indeed, he is fascinated by the Dark Court, the magic and the creatures that dwell therein.”

“He better not get too fascinated. I want him back safe.”

Jennet rubbed her scarred palm. She’d read too many tales of humans gladly ensnared in the Realm, staying there while time outside sped past. When they finally returned, their families were long dead, their world utterly changed.

“Fear not, Tamlin. Bard Thomas guards your brother as one of his own. He will not let the youngling suffer ill treatment.”

Maybe not—but she had the gnawing suspicion that the Bug would be permanently altered by his stay in the Realm. The sooner they got him back, the better. Which meant getting into the Twilight Kingdom, now.

“Come on,” she said, pushing against the dense foliage. “Let’s get this done.”

They emerged from the hedge into an opening enclosed by the tall shrubbery. White-spotted red mushrooms encircled grass that gleamed silvery, as if touched by moonlight.

“Nice work” Jennet said.

Puck grinned. “Go, go. I will stay here and maintain the illusion of your quest.”

Together, she and Tam stepped into the ring. Golden light rose up in a wave and she doubled over, stomach cramping. Dizziness hummed in her ears, and she blinked furiously. This was no time to be sick.

The vertigo passed, and they stood in a mossy circle bound by white-spotted mushrooms. Tall trees surrounded them, starlight filtering between their leaves. A path led, as one always did, between the pale-barked trunks.

“You all right?” Tam asked.

He laid his arm over her shoulders, his green eyes lit with concern. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, then straightened.

“Yeah. Let’s find the circle to the Twilight Kingdom.”

The moment Jennet and Tam stepped over the boundary of red mushrooms, a long howl shivered the night sky.

“Crap,” Tam said. “The Hunt. They must have been waiting for us. That next ring had better be close.”

Heartbeat jamming her throat, Jennet grabbed his outstretched hand and they pelted through the dark forest. Over the sound of her breath, she heard the yips of spectral hounds, the low, mournful cry of a horn.

The Wild Hunt had caught their scent.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The cries of the Wild Hunt grew louder, drowning out the pounding of Jennet’s footsteps. The back of her neck prickled, and she was certain if she looked behind them she would see the horned figure who led the hunt.

Legs burning with strain, she and Tam burst into a clearing lit by the glowing purplish mushrooms. Without stopping, he tugged her into the center.

Cold blankness wrapped around her. The air turned to ice, and for a panic-stricken second she couldn’t breathe.

When sensation returned, Jennet found herself sprawled and gasping on the dark velvet grass of the Twilight Kingdom. Tam crouched beside her, his hands covering his face.

“Tam?” She carefully sat up, her bones aching with the memory of frost.

“Yeah. Just…cold.”

He dropped his hands. The eerie glow of the mushrooms made him look sickly, and his eyes were leached of color.

She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her lips against his, willing him to be all right. It was like kissing a marble statue, and fear crashed through her.

Finally, his mouth warmed beneath hers. His arms came around her, and he started trembling, kissing her like she was the only true thing left in the universe. They clung together, until the cry of some twilight creature broke the moment.

Still, Tam didn’t let go, and she was glad. He rested his lips against her forehead, the warmth anchoring her back into her skin.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said.

“What, kissing?”

It was a feeble attempt at a joke, and she didn’t laugh. He’d looked terrible just then, like he was about to die. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, as if by holding on hard she could keep them both safe.

“I don’t think humans are supposed to travel between the worlds so frequently,” she said. Or at all.

“We don’t have a choice.”

She wanted to yell and kick things. Wanted to turn her back on the stupid pixilated world of Feyland and the dire magic of the Realm. Wanted to tell Puck she quit. Game over.

But Tam was right. The only option was to go forward—into the Twilight Kingdom.

“We have to find the Elder Fey tonight,” she said. “I’m not coming back here again.” Not when it drained them so much.

His arms tightened around her. Then he let go and clambered to his feet, giving her a hand up.

“Time to see where we are.” He floated straight up into the air.

The purplish sky shimmered behind him, the light hurting her eyes, as though they were being x-rayed. As they cleared the trees, she could see the silver slash of the river off to their right. On their left was the orangey glow they had seen last time, illuminating jagged peaks.

“Over there,” she said.

Tam nodded, and they took off. The wind rasped at her skin, carrying a bite that wasn’t quite cold. More like tiny bits of sharp sand grating invisibly against flesh. Her hair streamed behind her, and her mage robes whipped about her legs. Eyes pricking with tears from the flight, she kept pace with Tam. It was too hard to speak, to draw in lungfuls of the painful air.

They traveled over the dim landscape, passing hollows where violet light puddled and the sound of jangled chimes drifted up. Jennet scanned the ground ahead, watching for the telltale shimmer of dusk on water. No way did she want to slam into a wall of air—not at this speed.

When they next reached water, though, it was unmistakable. A huge silver mirror of a lake stretched before them, endless in either direction. The stark mountains jutted up across from them on the far shore, and the orange light pulsed in the air like heat waves.

Tam angled down, and Jennet landed beside him on the satiny grasses of the lakeshore.

She glanced around. “No bridge.”

“Maybe we can fly across.”

He flew to the water’s edge and hovered there, sliding back and forth against the invisible barrier of air. Mouth set in a frustrated twist, he dropped back to the ground.

Jennet paced the shoreline, stabbing at the dark soil with the end of her staff. “Maybe there’s a boat hidden in those bushes up there.”

She didn’t expect there to be, but they had to try something. Impatience flared in her veins. They didn’t have time for this.

“Stupid rule, about not flying over water.” Tam voiced her thoughts. “Alright, let’s try the bushes.”

It was a quick swoop over to the dark-leaved mass of foliage. As they got closer, Jennet saw dark berries shining amid the sharp-edged leaves. Long thorns studded the branches.

There was no boat drawn up on the shore.

“Berries,” Tam said, eyeing the bushes. “Remember the banshee quest?”

“You think picking the berries will call some kind of creature?”

From the poisonous look of the fruit, whatever came couldn’t be good.

Before she could stop him, Tam reached into the thicket and plucked a single berry. Nothing happened—no crash of thunder, no enraged faerie demanding they stop stealing her fruit.

“Where do I put this?” he asked, holding the shiny orb between his thumb and forefinger.

“Let me try something.”

She closed her eyes. Basket, she thought, imagining the woven sides, the curved handle. In the Realm, they could summon objects with a thought. She opened her eyes. No basket.

“That would have been too easy,” Tam said. “If we could summon a berry container, we could summon a boat.”

“I’m not sure I’d trust an imagined boat to carry us safely over that.” She gestured to the lake.

The surface moved strangely, as though made of liquid metal—mercury, instead of water. She didn’t want that stuff touching her.

“Then we keep picking.” Tam dropped the berry into his cupped hand.

Jennet reached into the bush. Her fingers closed over the smooth surface of a berry, oddly hard and slick to her touch. It wouldn’t come loose. She tugged, and her hand slipped. A thorn needled into the pad of her thumb.

“Ow!” She pulled her hand free. A drop of blood welled on her thumb, dark and shining.

“Don’t let it—“

Tam moved to her side, too late. The drop fell. The instant it hit the ground, a tremble went through the land. The lake shivered, and a high, distant drone cut the air, setting her teeth on edge.

“That was bad,” she said, pressing her finger hard against her thumb to keep any more blood from dripping.

“I think so.”

The trembling ceased, the lake stilled, and silence fell.

The skin between Jennet’s shoulder blades prickled. “I think we’re being watched.”

“Me, too. But by what?” Tam set his hand to his sword and pivoted, scanning the shore.

She couldn’t see anything but the long silver lake, the jagged, orange-lit mountains, the dim purple air. For a long minute, they stood still, breathing. Waiting. Nothing happened.

“My turn again,” Tam said.

“Careful,” she said in a low voice. “Those thorns are sharp.”

He slid his fingers between the dangerous branches and grabbed for another berry, then winced and let out a hiss of pain.

“Too sharp.” He pulled his hand out of the bush

Jennet grasped his hand and frowned at the long scratch marring his skin. It looked black in the eerie light.

“I’m ok,” he said, reaching for the bush again. “I didn’t even get a berry that time.”

The scratch sparkled and, quick as thought, a drop of his blood rolled off his hand and plunged to the grass.

“Dammit,” he said.

This time, the ground shook. Waves lapped the lakeshore, and the air buzzed with a clashing chord, like two discordant voices shrieking into the dimness. Jennet gripped her mage-staff tightly, the wood solid under her grasp. Her ribs tightened and her lungs burned from the abrasive air.

Still holding the single berry in his cupped palm, Tam drew his sword.

“Give me the berry,” Jennet said.

She plucked the fruit from his hand. As she picked it up, the berry suddenly softened. Her fingers crushed the soft flesh and a single drop of juice plummeted, shining like an obsidian tear.

The clamor in the air smoothed into a distant fanfare of brassy trumpets, tuneful and bright. The ground gave a last twitch beneath their feet, then subsided. The lake, however, frothed wildly, silver waves whirling in a vortex at the center.

“Look,” Jennet said, her voice small in her throat.

Something was rising from the water—a pale prow, the long line of a mast. A single sail billowed, shimmering, as a boat rose from the middle of the lake. In the center, a shining figure wearing a hooded robe woven from mist and starlight steered the boat. Right toward them.

“I think our ride’s here,” Tam said.

She caught his hand, tangling their fingers together.

The boat drew up to shore, the side angled toward the dark velvet grass where they stood, and the figure raised its head. All was shadow within the confines of its hood.

“Blood and need calls me forth,” it said in a hollow voice. “Board, and I shall bear you across the water.”

Jennet shivered. Half-remembered myths of black rivers and death flitted through her mind. Still, what choice did they have? They were far removed from the mortal world.

“Do you promise to keep us safe?” Tam asked.

“Put away your sword, mortal. I make no promises, but you shall be granted safe passage to the far shore.”

Tam slid his sword into the scabbard, metal hissing on metal. He squeezed Jennet’s hand, and together they stepped onto the pale deck. The boat remained eerily still as they boarded—no dip and shift as the boat took their weight.

In unspoken accord, they moved to the center where the mast stood, slender and gleaming. The entire boat looked fragile. The figure gestured, and the boat glided smoothly away from shore.

Jennet leaned closer to Tam. “I hope it doesn’t decide to dump us overboard halfway across the lake.”

“I think we’re ok. The blood and need and all that.”

Unconvinced, she watched the shore recede. Behind them, their wake was a vee of silver spreading across the water. Wind ruffled her hair—they were going fast, although the craft remained steady as a grav-car.

When they passed the midpoint of the lake, the tension binding her ribs eased. Tam squeezed her hand again. There was something about the silent figure and eerie water-lit air that made her reluctant to speak. As if words would break whatever spell was keeping them safe.

Sooner than she would have imagined, the rough crags of the mountains blocked half the sky. Orange light echoed off the metallic surface of the lake. The boat entered the shadow of the peaks, and cold crept through Jennet’s bones.

“Our journey is ended,” the hooded figure said as the boat slid up against land. “This way will not be open to you again. Farewell.”

Tam jumped to shore and reached for Jennet, steadying her as she stepped across. On this side of the lake the grasses were not black velvet, but singed silk, crackling under her feet. The air dried her tongue with an acrid tang.

Without another word, the hooded figure turned the boat. It sped, a pale blur, back toward the center of the lake. Partway there, the craft began to submerge, the water licking up over the deck, swirling about the figure’s robes. A heartbeat later, only the tip of the mast was visible—and then it was gone. A single ripple spread out, viscous, from the middle of the lake.

Jennet shivered and eyed the crags rising before them. The grasses gave way almost immediately to dark, volcanic-looking rock. She could see no path, but in there, somewhere, were the Elder Fey. She took a step, the rock gritty beneath her feet.

“Wait,” a thin, familiar voice said.

“Puck?” She squinted through the dim light, seeing nothing but flat black grasses and jagged shadows.

“There,” Tam said, pointing.

Puck stood a few feet away. A dim, translucent version of him, anyway.

“You must return posthaste,” the sprite said. “Come this way. A ring awaits.”

“How do we know you’re the real Puck?” Tam asked, his eyes narrowed.

Jennet was glad he asked. It was creepy seeing a ghostly figure in place of the merry sprite she was accustomed to.

“Foolishness.” Puck shook his head. “Your brother, the Bug, languishes in the Dark Court, and you want to play at riddles with me?”

“Good enough.” Tam strode forward.

“But…” Jennet hung back. They were close to the Elder Fey, she could feel it, the knowledge burning along her skin. “We can’t leave now. We’re almost done.”

“It is past time for your return to the mortal world,” Puck said. “We cannot hide your absence any longer. Your mortal bodies are in danger of slipping into the sleep-state.”

“No way are we going into a coma over this.” Tam caught her hand. “If we did, who would wake the Elder Fey and save my brother?”

“But…” They were so close.

“Trust me. We’ll get another chance. Right, Puck?”

The ghostly figure tipped his head. “One last chance, aye. But come now, ere the risk grows too great.”

They followed the wispy figure down the shoreline to where a thin grove of trees stood. Within it was the usual circle of pale-stalked mushrooms shedding their purplish light. Puck leaped into the middle of the faerie ring, and winked out.

Tam squeezed her fingers. “We’ll wake the Elder Fey. Third time’s the charm, right?”

She sent a wary glance behind her, to the jagged mountains rising against the orange-lit sky. Then why did she feel like they weren’t going to have that chance?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The Twilight Kingdom disappeared the moment Tam stepped within the circle of glowing mushrooms, and icy cold seized his bones. Coughing from the frigid air slicing his lungs, Tam landed in the center of another ring, Jennet beside him. At least this time they’d both managed to stay on their feet.

“Hurry,” Puck said, dancing just outside the boundary of eerie mushrooms. “Ere the hounds catch your scent once again.”

Tam was glad the Wild Hunt wasn’t waiting this time as their welcoming committee.

Jennet swayed, and he caught her elbow.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She blinked and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

White-barked trees rose above them as they hurried down the path behind Puck. The stars were pinpricks of light in an impossibly dark sky.

“Here,” Puck said, stepping into another clearing with the usual white-dotted mushrooms in the center. “I shall see you anon.”

“What about the quest in the beta game?” Tam asked.

“All is in readiness for your return,” the sprite said. “As before, the items you need will be provided to you.”

“But we have no idea what we’re supposed to have been doing,” Jennet said.

Tam thought back to accepting the quest in-game. It felt like a hundred years ago.

“We’re supposed to be choosing something from the castle’s treasury,” he said. “Just describe a generic treasure room, Jennet. You know, piles of gold, shiny weapons. Think like a game designer.”

“Enough chatter,” Puck said. “Go.”

A long, wavering wail curled through the sky. It wasn’t the howl of the Hunt, but the Unseelie Court boasted plenty of other nasties.

Tam stepped into the center of the faerie ring with Jennet. Giddy golden light swirled over his senses and they tumbled into the clearing in the hedge outside Stronghold Castle. On the grass surrounding them a faint echo of white-spotted mushrooms faded.

Jennet pushed her hair out of her face. “Back to the princess?”

“With the gifts we chose out of the royal treasury.” Tam checked his inventory. A small silver box had been added to his items. “I guess I got a box. A new sword would have been nice.”

“Boys.” Jennet shook her head. “Oh, sweet. I got a box, too. And there were probably piles of jewels lying around the treasure room.”

Her hand went to her throat, as if feeling an imagined necklace there.

“Girls.” Tam gave her a half-smile, then pushed his way out of the hedge. He knew she was rolling her eyes at him, behind his back.

Their footsteps crunched on the gravel of the empty pathway as he and Jennet headed to the green garden of Princess Paloma. As before, the pastel ladies-in-waiting sat on benches surrounding the white-garbed princess. Soft music played in the background, and the princess watched them approach with her unblinking violet gaze.

“Your highness.” Tam swept her a bow. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jennet curtsey.

“Brave adventurers,” Princess Paloma said. “Let me view the rewards you chose from my treasury. What have you claimed, Knight?”

She held out her hands, and a rectangular silver box about four inches long appeared. Tam flicked through his inventory. Yep, she’d taken it. He raised an eyebrow at Jennet.

“I have gold and arms aplenty, shining in splendor,” the princess said, “yet you selected something so simple. Shall I open it?”

Tam shrugged. “Go ahead.”

The princess lifted the lid, and her ladies gasped as brilliant light flooded the garden.

“Ah,” Princess Paloma said. “One of the most powerful items in my treasury. The Talisman of Aroka.”

She reached into the box and drew out the source of the brightness—a teardrop-shaped jewel suspended on a thick silver chain. Maybe the box wasn’t such a dud after all.

“What does it do?” Tam asked.

“When invoked, it lends the wearer three times his normal strength and heals him of mortal wounds. Wear it well, brave Knight.”

Princess Paloma set the box aside and stood on tiptoe to lift the chain over Tam’s head. The talisman slipped down to nestle under his armor, its light fading. Tam blinked, glowing afterimages of teardrop-shaped gems burning against his lids.

“Lady Spellcaster,” the princess said, turning to Jennet. “Let us see what reward you have brought from my treasury.”

Again, she held out her hands, and again a plain silver box appeared. Princess Paloma nodded and lifted the lid. Once more, silver radiance streamed out of the box and the ladies-in-waiting stirred with excitement. The princess reached into the box and drew out a flat disc of milky stone that seemed lit from within. It, too, was strung on a silver chain. Princess Paloma held it up.

“Another wise choice,” she said. “The Talisman of Shejin. When invoked, this talisman lends the wearer three times their magical power, and heals them of mortal wounds.”

The princess placed the chain over Jennet’s head. The glowing disc slipped beneath her robes and the light dimmed once more. A soft ding filled the air—the signal their quest was complete.

“You have chosen worthy items,” Princess Paloma said. “Guard them well. The talismans can be invoked but once, so take care to use them only at your time of greatest need.”

:Beta team, log out in five minutes:

The message scrolled across the lush green grass of the princess’s garden.

“Thank you, your highness,” Jennet said, curtseying to the princess.

Tam bowed. Princess Paloma waved her hand in dismissal and turned back to her gaggle of pastel-clad ladies. Clearly he and Jennet were done here. He jerked his head toward the tall columns marking the edge of the garden. Eyes full of questions, Jennet followed.

When the two of them reached the courtyard with its fountain, Tam halted beside the splashing water. Who knew if VirtuMax could listen in to their conversations?

“At least we’re not late, this time,” Jennet said in a low voice.

“Yeah.” Tam fingered the silver chain around his neck. “And apparently we managed to do a good job with the quest.”

“I still wish we’d been able to finish up in… you know where. Do you think we were really in danger—physically, I mean?”

“I do. Much as I distrust the faeries, I don’t think Puck has a reason to lie. Not about this.”

“At some point, we’re going to be discovered.” Worry shadowed her light-blue eyes.

“How? VirtuMax has no way of monitoring us once we step through the rings.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “This ‘vid-feed malfunction’ trick of Puck’s can’t work forever. Maybe it’s time to try something different.”

Something hovered behind her eyes that he didn’t like the look of. Jennet’s plans usually meant putting herself in serious danger.

:Beta team, log out:

“We’ll talk later.” She took a deep breath. “See you out there.”

Tam still couldn’t get used to how easy it was to exit the new Feyland. No searching for a faerie ring, no queasiness. Just a quick selection of the X, and he was out. He pulled his gloves off, then glanced down the row at the rest of the team. Zeg and Jennet’s dad were still geared up, and Mr. Chon stalked over to stand in front of their sim chairs.

“Mr. Carter, Mr. Fanalua, can you hear me?” He fiddled with his mic and headset. “Time to exit the game.”

“One sec.” Zeg’s voice came from the speakers in Tam’s helmet. “We’re finishing up a fight, then we need to go turn in.”

Lassiter rose from his chair at the end of the row. “Seriously? We finished our quest ages ago and were just exploring.”

“Hey,” Jennet said. “Monk and Priest are not the most deadly combo, you know.”

“No doubt.” Lassiter laughed. “Death by slow erosion. No wonder they’re still in battle.”

Spark pushed back a strand of her bright hair. “Maybe you should join them, Roy. It wouldn’t hurt to switch the teams up a little.”

Lassiter looked like he’d bitten into something sour.

“We will be reconfiguring the small groups,” Mr. Chon said. “Tomorrow, when we assemble, I’ll assign new questing partners.”

Jennet shot Tam a wide-eyed look. “But—”

“Miss Carter.” The team leader’s voice was cool. “We lost signal from you and Tam again today. The techs think there’s a short in your systems… possibly because they’re situated next to one another. Tomorrow, we’ll be switching everything up.”

Damn. Tam crossed his arms. How was Puck going to get them out of this one? Jennet was right—the sprite couldn’t keep messing with the FullD systems.

“Whew!” Down the line, Jennet’s dad pulled off his helmet. “Good thing Zeg’s a top-notch healer. We barely beat that last ogre.”

Zeg stripped off his gear and gave Jennet’s dad a grin from behind his frizzy beard. “You’re starting to get the hang of things.”

“Only because you’re keeping me alive.”

“Everyone, input your impressions of the gameplay today,” Mr. Chon said, “then you’re free to go. We have another session tomorrow afternoon. Be prompt.”

Jennet glanced at Tam, her face pale and worried. How were they going to get back into the Twilight Kingdom if they weren’t questing together?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet wished she could talk to Tam, but her dad wasn’t staying behind tonight to go over the data. She had to be content with a small wave to Tam as he and Zeg headed out through the shiny glass doors of VirtuMax headquarters.

“Jennet,” her dad said, holding the door open for her, “all right with you if we walk home?”

She nodded, though her stomach clenched. Walking the few short blocks to their house would still give him too much time to ask questions—and she could tell he was suspicious about what she and Tam had been doing in-game.

Technically, they hadn’t even been playing Feyland. Instead they’d been using magical faerie rings to travel to realms far removed from the mortal world, on a quest to stop the fey folk from taking over. Yeah, it all sounded so plausible.

Zeg’s guzzler rumbled past, the exhaust fumes hanging in the still air. Jennet lifted her hand again in farewell.

“I like Zeg,” her dad said. “Despite his tendency toward the theatrical.”

“Me too. You should meet his niece—my friend Marny.”

“Maybe we should invite them over for dinner some night.”

“Maybe.”

How awkward that would be, especially since Tam wasn’t welcome anywhere near her house. She pressed her lips together as she and her dad turned down the wide, empty sidewalk.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said—always a bad sign. “We should find a choir here, like the one you used to sing with.”

“I’m not sure Crestview has anything like that, Dad. Besides, I don’t really have time right now.”

Part of her did miss the music, and her choir director had always said she had a great voice. But ever since entering Feyland and battling the Dark Queen, Jennet hadn’t much felt like singing.

“There’s more to life than school and gaming.” Her dad gave her a concerned look. “Speaking of which, I find it strange that you and Tam are having system issues. Anything you’d like to tell me about that?”

“Meaning?” She tried to keep her voice innocent.

“Jennet. You and Tam have a history of… shall we say, poor physical reactions to the FullD systems.”

“I would call going into a coma way beyond poor, personally.”

“Maybe it’s something in your body chemistry.” He frowned. “Your neural interface is glitching with the equipment.”

“Or maybe we’re telling the truth!” She stopped and turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Dad, that’s the answer that makes the most sense.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

“Faeries and magic? I know you believe—”

“What about Tam’s leg getting hurt the night you kicked him out of my life?” she demanded. “How could a faulty neural interface cause a stab wound?”

Her dad ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t get a good look at his leg that night. There were bigger things to deal with. You might remember Security bursting into the house and waving guns around? By the time I’d dealt with them, you’d bandaged Tam up. I have no way of verifying what you’re saying.”

“I’m not lying.”

Anger warred with fear in her stomach. She wanted to yell at her dad, wanted to storm home to her bedroom and slam the door. But something held her back, a shaky anxiety she’d always had at the thought of making him angry with her. She folded her arms tightly across her body and blinked away hot tears.

“Why won’t you believe me?” She hated the way her voice shook.

“I certainly believe there’s something about you and Tam that reacts strangely when you play Feyland.” Her dad cleared his throat. “Which is why I think it’s best that you stop playing altogether. I’m recommending to Mr. Chon that he remove you both from the beta team.”

“What?” She halted, cold air stabbing her lungs. Shivering, she pulled her thick wool coat tighter. “You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can. I’m your parent. It’s my job to protect you.” His voice was calm and reasonable, and Jennet wanted to scream.

“Please don’t.” The words clogged her throat. “Don’t kick us out yet. Give us one more chance.”

One last try to wake the Elder Fey. To save their world.

Her dad folded his arms, his mouth twisted in thought.

“I suppose you could stay for one more round,” he said, and relief gusted through her. “If I upset Mr. Chon’s plan for tomorrow, he won’t be pleased.”

“Switching up the teams, you mean?”

“Yes. But after that, the two of you are done. Understand?”

Her eyes were cold now, the wetness of tears quickly chilling in the winter air. “All right.”

“It’s for the best, Jennet. I’m just trying to look out for you. And Tam, too.” He set a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get home. I’ll have Marie fix you some hot chocolate.”

As if she were still a little girl, and that would make everything better.

Ducking her head, Jennet trudged up the sidewalk. If she and Tam didn’t wake the Elder Fey tomorrow, everything was lost.

Tam waved to Zeg from the top of his stairs, then carefully opened the door, not sure what kind of mess he’d be walking into. The changeling was even worse than his little brother. Maybe because Korrigan didn’t have to pretend to be a human boy, at least not in front of Tam.

Or in front of Marny, who had agreed to hang out with the creature again while Tam was beta testing. Bad enough that Korrigan was left on his own during school hours. Tam couldn’t imagine leaving the faerie unattended for the entire day—and then pretty much the whole night, while Tam slept.

When he’d gotten up that morning, after crashing hard on his mom’s bed, he’d found the living room draped in green cobwebs. Strange, fleshy-leaved plants sprouted in the corners, and a jungle-like smell permeated the air—thick and vegetal. He’d commanded the changeling to clear it all up, then dashed out the door, late for school.

No magical jungle greeted him as he pushed the door open. Instead, Marny and Korrigan sat on the couch, facing the netscreen. Brightly colored cars zipped around a track, and the scream of the virtual crowd was deafening as Marny’s vehicle sped over the finish line. Winner! flashed in bright yellow letters across the screen.

“Noo!” Korrigan cried, flinging down his controller.

“I win. Again,” Marny said, and glanced up. “Hey Tam. How’d the testing go today?”

“Good.” He sent a significant look at the changeling. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow at school. Zeg’s out there waiting for you.”

No way would either of them let Marny walk home alone through the Exe.

“I know—the sound of his car is unmistakable.” She got off the couch. “See you later, Korr. Better work on those driving skills.”

The changeling made a face. “I shall master this ridiculous mortal game yet.”

“He’s totally hooked, poor guy.” Marny shook her head, then gathered up her knapsack. “See you tomorrow.”

Tam held the door. “Watch that step,” he called after her.

One of these days, he needed to do some scavenging and replace the weak tread. But first there was the little matter of fighting off evil faeries and saving the world.

CHAPTER NINETEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

In the beta-testing hub the next afternoon, Mr. Chon stopped everyone before they took their usual sim chairs. Jennet curled her fingers into her palms, the nails digging in. When she’d told Tam at school that her dad was pulling them off the team, he’d frozen for a heartbeat. Then he’d folded his arms, green eyes hard with determination. They were going to wake the Elder Fey today, no matter what.

“We’re mixing the groups up this afternoon,” Mr. Chon said. “And the seating arrangements as well. Jennet and Spark, I want you two down at the end. Gear up and enter game right away. Talk to the Elvish ambassadors at the front gates of Stronghold—you’ll be questing in Pelemor Forest today.”

“But… shouldn’t we wait for the others?” Jennet asked.

Mr. Chon shook his head. “I want a staggered entry. Groups will be starting gameplay fifteen minutes apart.”

That was going to make meeting Tam in-game a lot trickier. Jennet moved to her new chair and picked up her gloves, turning them restlessly in her hands instead of slipping them on.

“Who’s in after the girls?” Roy asked.

Mr. Chon glanced at his tablet. “Yourself and Mr. Carter will be running the Sands of Scouring quest-lines.”

“Great.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Babysitting duty again.”

Ignoring him, Mr. Chon gestured to Tam, Zeg, and Coranne. “You’re the last group, and I’m sending you into some difficult play. You three are the perfect party to tackle the mid-sized bosses we’ve created in the Dire Swamp. Tank, healer, and damage—very well balanced.”

“Hey, I’m a tank, too.” Roy’s lips twisted in a scowl.

Mr. Chon sent a sharp glance toward Jennet and Spark. “Ladies, I need you two in game. Yesterday.”

Of course Spark was ready to go—seated and geared up—while Jennet hovered beside the chair, mind whirling.

“Good luck,” Tam said, his voice strained.

Jennet met his gaze, sure he could see the panic in her eyes. Tam wasn’t going to be entering Feyland until half an hour after she and Spark. Plus, he had Coranne Smith with him, who was a spy for VirtuMax, no question.

She swallowed, fear tightening her throat. “See you later,” she said.

Hopefully not too much later, but she couldn’t see a way they could make this work. She pulled her helmet on, and the outside world receded.

“You in yet?” Spark asked over the headset.

“Almost.” Jennet’s Spellcaster materialized in the castle gardens. “I’m at the castle. You?”

“The tavern. Meet you at the front gates.”

Maybe they would knock the quests off quickly, and she could go find Tam. And maybe the sky would start raining roses, too. Jennet shook her head and hurried through the cobbled streets of the city, heading for the tall gates. The heavy sensation in her stomach was the feeling of swallowing leaden truth. Everything was working against them. It was going to be impossible to reach the Twilight Kingdom today.

But she had to try.

Jennet passed through the gates, walking past a row of guards who didn’t even glance her way. Outside the city walls an elegant blue pavilion stood, open on three sides. Silver streamers glittered in the breeze, and she could see the bright magenta flash of Spark’s hair under the billowing cloth.

“I’m at the tent,” Spark said. “Come on over.”

Her fox-eared avatar stood before a pair of tall, pale figures. They, too, had ears pointing out of their silvery hair, but the elves’ ears were long and delicate. Large, luminous eyes the color of the ocean watched Jennet approach—but there was no hint of consciousness on their angular, computer-generated faces.

Not truly fey folk, which was a good thing. So why was she disappointed no magic lingered about their stately figures?

Spark tilted her head as Jennet approached. “Did you change your avatar?”

“No. Why do you ask?” A sudden chill crept over Jennet’s skin.

“Your hair seems a different color. Maybe it’s a trick of the light.” Spark shrugged one shoulder and turned to the elves.

Jennet glanced down. Sure enough, the black hair she’d chosen for her character had lightened to pale brown. Was fey magic seeping into the game already—or was it only her character that was affected, like with the spider bites?

She swallowed back fear, wishing that Tam was beside her.

“Greetings,” Spark said to the elves. “Welcome to Stronghold city.”

“Young Kitsune.” The figure on the left inclined his head. “We have traveled far, and must send word home to our forest of our safe arrival. Will you and your Spellcaster companion be our messengers?”

“We’ll deliver your messages,” Jennet said.

“Good.” The other elf’s voice was higher pitched, and her features had a more feminine cast. “We shall provide swift steeds to carry you to Pelemor Forest.”

She made an elegant gesture, and two pale horses appeared outside the pavilion. Their manes and tails looked made of spun silver, and their saddles of beaten gold. Pretty, but not too comfortable.

The elves stood there, waiting expectantly. The horses pawed the ground. Clearly she and Spark were supposed to jump on and ride away—but how?

She scanned the bottom of her screen, and saw a silvery M. For mount? She selected it, and a moment later was perched on one of the horses.

Spark tilted her head up at Jennet. A second later, she, too, was mounted.

“Travel well and speedily,” the male elf said.

He snapped his fingers and the horses burst into motion, heading away from the castle. They didn’t take the road up into the forest Jennet’s party had adventured through, nor did they veer off in the direction Spark and Tam had come to reach the city.

Instead, they galloped straight ahead, through golden fields stitched with bright orange flowers. The horses carried them swiftly and smoothly over the landscape. The sky was the color of a painting overhead, and the drowsy buzz of insects filled the air. After a few minutes, they reached a wide, dusty road, and continued along it. Jennet glanced behind them at the little puffs of dust rising from their passage. Good programming, that.

“Hey,” Jennet said, “have you ever played a game where things weren’t what they seemed?”

She hadn’t planned on asking the question, but now that she had, she found herself hoping Spark knew what she meant.

The magenta-haired girl shot her a look. “You mean puzzle or illusion games?”

“No, ones like this—you know, questing, epic fantasy-type stuff. But one where the storyline isn’t actually what’s going on.”

Jennet pressed her lips together. She wasn’t explaining it well, but then, there really was no good way to explain fey magic seeping into a game.

“Not that I know of,” Spark said. “Are you telling me you think Feyland is like that—there’s some bigger meta-game going on underneath?”

“Maybe. Yeah.”

Though it wasn’t planned to be that way. At least, not by the human programmers.

The shadow of wings crossed the road ahead of them. Spark glanced up, then threw herself off her horse.

“Incoming!” she yelled.

Jennet was right behind her, her feet hitting the dusty road. She raised her mage staff, blue-white magefire crackling from the crystal set in the end.

Above them, the sun was blocked out by the descent of a huge red bird. It let out a hoarse cry, its talons extended in attack as it hurtled toward them. Shading her eyes with one hand, Jennet fired a magical blast that hit the creature in the chest.

It screeched and veered toward her. She ducked as the wind of its wings whipped her hair across her face, and skidded for cover behind her horse. The animal just stood there placidly, ignoring the fight exploding around it.

Spark had her bow out and was firing confidently, but despite the arrows sticking out of its chest, the bird seemed unaffected. When Jennet’s next bolt of blue fire hit it, though, the creature cried out again.

“I think it can only be harmed by magic,” Jennet called.

Spark nodded and set aside her bow as their enemy wheeled away, huge scarlet wings beating. The bird gained altitude, climbing higher into the blue.

Jennet squinted up into the brightness. “Think it’s leaving?”

“No way.” Spark held up her hands, palms out. “Get ready.”

Sudden red blurred the air as the bird tucked its wings and plummeted toward them, a deadly missile of beak and bone and talon. Jennet shot—and missed, her magefire blasting empty air. The sky shuddered, vibrating with the bird’s descent.

A wall of orange fire rose in front of them, heat rippling the air. Jennet glanced at Spark, then raised her staff. Her blue-flickering Sheet of Flame joined Spark’s fire—a double dose of magical energy shimmering between them and the bird.

Their enemy hit the flames. It let out a horrific screech as its feathers caught fire, but it kept coming. Jennet and Spark dove to the ground as bladed talons whistled through the air over their heads.

Jennet’s horse whinnied high and scared as the bird, deprived of its human prey, fastened its talons into the horse instead. Wings still smoking, it rose, bearing the animal with it, and began to flap away.

“Wait,” Jennet cried. “Come back here with my mount!”

She tilted her staff and sent a bolt at the retreating bird, but it didn’t turn around. Soon it was just a dark blot on the horizon.

“Great.”

She turned back to the road, now blackened with fire. A single scarlet feather lay where her mount had stood.

Spark picked the feather up and shook her head.

“Too bad it took your horse.”

Especially when speed was essential. “Maybe we could both ride yours.”

“Worth a try.” Spark mounted. “Come on up.”

Jennet hit her M button, and a second later was sitting atop the horse… but Spark now stood on the road. Jennet blinked, and they had changed places again.

“A single-occupant horse,” Jennet said, scuffing the dirt with her foot. “How un-useful.”

“Put it in the recap notes.” Spark’s voice was dry. “Guess you’re on foot.”

Jennet started down the road. Spark charged past her in a streak of silver, then pulled her mount to a stop several yards away.

“There’s no speed setting on this thing,” she said.

“Go ahead without me.” Jennet bit her lip. “At least one of us should get the quest done. Either I’ll catch up, or we’ll run out of time.”

Or die on the road, but she didn’t feel like mentioning that part.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See you in the forest.” She waved, to show she meant it.

Spark lifted her hand, then turned and sped away. Far too soon, the road was empty.

Jennet had to admit, she liked Spark—and the gamer girl didn’t seem as if she was trying to snag Tam away. Not that Jennet was worried he’d go. The two of them were solid, despite the world trying to keep them apart.

If anything, Jennet suspected Spark might be interested in Roy. Underneath all that ego was a decent guy—but still. Maybe Spark liked to take on projects.

Jennet shook her head and trudged down the road, the drone of insects loud in the stillness.

Had half an hour passed yet? Was Tam in-game somewhere, inaccessible? She let out a sigh, defeat weighting her steps.

The dry grasses beside the road rustled, and Jennet whirled, staff at the ready. An instant later, she relaxed her guard as Puck tumbled out in a mad somersault.

“Greetings, Fair Jennet.” The sprite swept her a low bow. “How fares it on this fine day?”

“Better, now that you’re here. Transport me to the Realm, then go get Tam.”

“Alas, I cannot. He has just entered this between-place, and is too well watched to separate from his companions.”

She blinked at Puck, fear scratching her skin.

“But we have to get to the Twilight Kingdom today—this is our last chance! At least take me there.”

The sprite floated up, cross-legged in the air, until he was face to face with her. His expression was serious, the merry twinkle in his eyes extinguished.

“You cannot succeed without Tamlin,” Puck said. “Sending you alone into that place would spell your certain death. And the doom of the mortal world.”

“But…” She tried to breathe, panic tightening her ribcage. “I have to go, today. Tam and I are off the beta team after this. We won’t be able to get into Feyland again.”

Puck held her gaze. “Fair Jennet, this is not the only game-portal to the Realm. You have entered through many others. Find a way.”

“There isn’t a way.”

Her FullD prototype systems were totally off limits. Though she was willing to risk her dad’s wrath, HANA, their House-Activated-Network-Assistant, had been programmed to set off alarms if Tam ever set foot inside. She still hadn’t figured out the override codes, and even if she did, the entire staff knew he wasn’t allowed in.

But she didn’t have any other choice.

The sprite nodded, as if he could read her thoughts. “You and Tamlin are clever and brave. You will find a path back to us.”

He slowly drifted back down to the earth. A breeze riffled the grasses and, for a moment, Jennet felt the dry, dusty warmth against her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, pushing down the fear-flavored despair. They had to find a way through this.

“How’s the Bug doing?” she asked. Tam would want to know, and she was worried about the kid, too.

Puck grinned. “He and I are merry playmates.”

“Don’t let him eat or drink anything.”

“Fear not, Fair Jennet. Thomas guards him well. He will not be unduly snared into the Realm.”

“He already has! And we’re going to get him out as soon as possible.”

“Muster your allies,” Puck said. “The battle will not be easy. The Courts have joined forces—an unheard of thing—and their combined might is fearsome.”

“What?” She stared at the sprite, ice edging her bones. Each court was bad enough alone, but together? “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

She and Tam were in deep trouble. No way the two of them could face off against the combined rulers of the Realm, and win. Not when it had taken all their skill to defeat the king and queen individually.

“It was not necessary for you to know, until now,” Puck said.

“I can’t believe you and Thomas didn’t—”

:Jennet and Spark, finish your quest. Logoff in five minutes:

The sprite lifted his head. “I must away. Find your portal to the Realm again. Soon.”

He leaped into a handstand. A moment later there was nothing but glittering air where he had been, and the echo of chiming laughter that almost sounded like sobbing.

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam shoved his hands into the pockets of his battered brown coat and tried to keep the cold brick wall of Crestview High between him and the winter wind. White mist curled from his lips to blend with the dawn shadows. Although Jennet hadn’t messaged him to meet her before school today, he was there, waiting.

Yesterday, at the end of beta testing, she’d given him a serious look—one that said they needed to talk. Which of course they did, although they’d gotten a temporary reprieve. Since neither of their systems had malfunctioned during the testing period, Jennet’s dad hadn’t made a big announcement about pulling them off the team.

Maybe he’d said something on the quiet to Mr. Chon, but nobody had told Tam not to show up for the next session in two days. Not that he and Jennet had two days, if the near-panic he’d seen in her eyes was any indication.

The lights of a grav-car swept the early-morning dimness from the air, and Tam unclenched his cold fingers. The black car slid up to the curb, and Jennet got out.

“Tam?” she called softly.

“Here.” He stepped away from the building.

Her face lightened when she saw him. She ducked back into the car, then re-emerged with her satchel and a sleek silver thermos. Tam couldn’t see George through the tinted windows, but he waved, knowing the driver was looking out. The grav-car’s lights flashed in acknowledgement.

“I hoped you’d be here,” Jennet said. “I brought hot chocolate.”

Tam took the thermos she held out to him and unscrewed the lid. Steam rose, curling around his face with delicious, chocolate-scented warmth.

“I saw Puck in-game yesterday,” she said. “He told me a couple important things.”

“What did Spark think of that?”

“She wasn’t there. We got separated during our quest. I’m not sure if that was Puck’s doing or a game flaw.”

“Did you ask about my brother? Is he ok?”

“Puck said they were ‘merry playmates’ and that Thomas is keeping an eye on him.”

From what Tam knew, there wasn’t much merriment in the Dark Court, but he trusted the bard to keep his brother safe until they could get him out. Which had to be soon. He tipped the thermos and took a mouthful of hot chocolate, trying to erase some of the chill chasing through him.

“Puck neglected to mention one small detail.” Jennet’s voice trembled on the words. “The Dark Queen and the Bright King have joined forces.”

“What?” The chocolate curdled on his tongue. “Can they even do that? I thought they were polar opposites. Fire and water, you know.”

“I guess when the fate of their Realm is at stake, they’ll do whatever it takes.”

He screwed the top on the thermos, twisting it down tight. “We won’t let them win.”

“How can we stop them?”

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

Tam set the thermos down and took Jennet into his arms. Her hair smelled like flowers and light, and every good thing in the world. Every good thing that could so easily be lost to the treacherous powers of the fey.

He was scared too, though he wasn’t about to show it. Although he and Jennet had won against the Bright King—barely—the Dark Queen had defeated them. Her magic was too strong. Together, the king and queen would be unbeatable.

Jennet held tightly to him, and the places where their bodies touched warmed enough to push back the cold. Enough to push back the dark fear. The clouds on the eastern horizon brightened from grey to white as the sun tipped over the edge of the earth.

“Jennet, things are too chancy with the beta testing,” he said. “Even if we stay on the team, they’ll keep us split up. You know that.”

She drew back and stared into his eyes. “We’re going to have to sneak onto my systems. I’ve thought about it, and if we—”

“No.”

“Tam. We have to get into the Realm.”

“We will, but you’re not the only one with FullD prototypes sitting around.”

She tilted her head, and he saw the moment realization hit, her blue eyes widening.

“Roy’s systems,” she breathed. “Tam, you’d do that?”

“It’s safer for everyone. And if I have to make good with Lassiter, well…” He shrugged, though the words were bitter.

It was the only way forward he could see. Even if it meant patching things up with the walking ego that was Roy Lassiter.

“All right. He owes us, anyway.” Jennet leaned into him again, and he held her close.

For a minute he could forget the aching emptiness where his mom should have been, his fear for the Bug trapped in the Dark Court, the impossible quest hanging over them. There was only the feel of Jennet in his arms, fitting perfectly against him as the sky brightened.

After school, Tam and Jennet waited outside the building for Roy Lassiter.

“He didn’t leave already?” Jennet said.

“His car’s still in the lot.” Tam folded his arms. Lassiter’s fancy red grav-car was impossible to miss.

Students poured out the battered double-doors of Crestview High. Used to be, Lassiter was easy to find in a crowd—surrounded by admiring fans, the golden boy of the school. Now he was just another student in a sea of them, and he’d made it clear he blamed Tam and Jennet for that change.

“There he is.” Jennet touched his arm. “Want me to come along?”

“Not yet.”

If Jennet was there, Lassiter would use it, and Tam wasn’t sure he could hold his temper if the guy started making digs at her.

Tam strode forward. “Hey, Lassiter.”

“What?” The other boy narrowed his eyes. “I’m not giving you a ride to The View, if that’s what you’re after. Besides, there’s no beta testing today.”

“I know. Let’s talk.” Tam jerked his head, indicating they should move out of the stream of students.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“It’s about Feyland.”

Lassiter frowned. “Make it fast.”

The guy might dislike him, but they’d shared an experience no one else had. They’d both come face to face with the Bright King of the Seelie Faeries and stared into the heart of that dazzling power.

But where Lassiter had craved it for his own, Tam had just wanted to keep Jennet safe. Only one of them had been the winner.

“All right, Exie,” Lassiter said, crossing his arms when they got to the rusty parking-lot fence. “You have one minute. Make it count.”

“I need your help.”

Lassiter’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you? And why should I help you?”

“Because you’re one of the only people who understands what’s going on. That Feyland is way beyond ordinary.”

“Ordinary. Like I am now.”

“No.” Tam dropped his voice. “Anyone who’s been touched by fey magic is special. You know that. You’ve felt it. But if the faeries break through into our world, everything will change—and not for the better.”

Lassiter was quiet a minute. The calls of students echoed against Crestview’s brick walls, underscored by the roar of the buses pulling away. Jennet waited, expression tense, near the front doors, and Tam gave her an imperceptible shake of his head.

“You still think that’s their plan?” Lassiter finally asked. Some of the arrogance had drained from his voice.

“I know it is.”

“How?”

“In beta testing, when Jennet and I ‘shorted out’ the FullD systems, it wasn’t an equipment glitch. We went into the Realm.”

And beyond, but he didn’t want to tell Lassiter too much. Yet.

“You say.”

Tam shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder. He had to convince Lassiter to help them.

“Also—my little brother has been replaced by a changeling.”

“A what? The faeries stole your brother?” The other boy tipped his head and laughed, though it sounded forced. “Right. Tell me another one.”

From the corner of his eye, Tam saw Jennet marching over. She must have caught the last part of their conversation.

“It’s true, Roy,” she said.

All humor was gone from Lassiter’s face. “Prove it.”

“After everything with Feyland, you don’t believe us?” Tam wanted to take Lassiter by the shoulders and shake him. Hard.

“It’s not my problem,” Lassiter said. “And your minute is up.”

Jennet turned to Tam, her blue eyes worried. “You’ll have to take Roy to your house and show him the changeling.”

“No.” Tam took a step back.

No way did he want to expose his admittedly rundown house to Lassiter’s arrogant gaze. The Viewer boy judged him plenty, without Tam adding more fuel to that fire.

“Admit it,” Lassiter said. “It’s all lies. Some story you two cooked up. Otherwise, why not let me see the so-called evidence, Exie?”

Tam unclenched his fists. Jennet was right—the only way to convince Lassiter was to let him see the changeling. And since the creature couldn’t leave the house without Tam, this was the easiest solution.

Much as he hated the idea.

“Fine,” Tam said. “But then you have to help us get into Feyland—on your sim equip.”

“Yeah, if your fake faerie magically changes my mind. Which I doubt.” Lassiter narrowed his eyes, his thumb rubbing his wrist-chip implant. “Wait a sec. Is this some kind of trap? Lure me into the Exe and then you and your ghetto posse jump me, steal my car? Cut out my chip?”

Jennet let out an exasperated breath. “Roy, make up your mind. I’ll come too, to keep you safe and hold your hand in the scary Exe.”

“Jennet, you’re not supposed to visit me,” Tam said.

Planning to meet at Lassiter’s was already stretching the rules way thin. It was too soon to risk everything. Once they’d woken the Elder Fey, he’d give everything he had to get his brother back from the Dark Court—but not until then, although his skin itched with impatience every time he thought about it.

“I can take care of myself,” Lassiter said.

“Great.” Jennet said. “Let me run inside and get Marny. She’s going with you.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“Guys, somebody’s got to changeling-sit while we’re at Roy’s.” Without waiting for a response, Jennet headed back into Crestview High.

“You think you can pull something on me?” Lassiter curled his mouth.

“Either you’ll believe the truth staring you in the face, or you won’t.” Tam was done arguing about it.

When Marny and Jennet came through the doors, the big girl made a face. She wasn’t fond of Lassiter, and he returned the dislike. Back when he’d had a touch of fey magic he’d bewitched her—and pretty much the entire school— into falling in love with him. When Marny got free of his enchantment, she’d told him the hard truth about himself. A truth he wasn’t going to accept any time soon. Being average was hard.

“Message me when you get up to the View, and I’ll meet you at Roy’s,” Jennet said. “Good luck.”

She smiled at Tam, then headed for the curb where George waited in the Carter’s black grav-car.

“Come on.” Lassiter led the way to where his shiny red car waited in the parking lot.

“I’m sitting in back,” Marny said. “Tam can enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“Don’t mess anything up,” Lassiter said.

Marny rolled her eyes, but waited for him to wave the doors open.

“I don’t suppose you have a real address I can put into the navbot,” Lassiter said as he slid behind the wheel.

“Not so much,” Tam said. “I’ll tell you how to get there.”

Once, Tam’s street had been on the map—literally—but for the last ten years the Exe had been a grayed-out area, a bruise on one side of Crestview. Now The View perched on the other side, squashing the city uncomfortably in between.

Lassiter drove too fast, but Tam didn’t say anything. All was quiet in the back seat, though as the car heeled around a corner he glanced over to see Marny bracing herself.

At the outskirts of the Exe, Lassiter slowed.

“You sure it’s safe?” he asked.

“Of course it’s not,” Marny said. “Just do what Tam says, and we should be all right.”

Tam guided Lassiter down the pitted streets, worry gnawing at him. Marny was right—it totally wasn’t safe. Bad enough that George had brought the Carter’s grav-car into the Exe. Now here was Lassiter’s tricked-out red car, screaming money at the top of its lungs. And it was going to be parked right outside his house.

On the other hand, coming in on foot would have been equally dangerous. In his car or out, Lassiter made an obvious target. Tam directed him to drive around the back way, so at least they wouldn’t have to pass the drifter’s squat.

“We have to make it fast,” Tam said as the old auto shop came into view. “Pull up over there. And put the alarm on.”

“Of course,” Lassiter said. “It’s triple-alarmed.”

Like that would make any difference if someone wanted to damage or steal the thing.

“You seriously live here?” Lassiter’s tone held disbelief laced with amusement.

“Shut it,” Marny said. “Welcome to the real world, rich boy.”

Tam ignored the argument and pulled out his keys. As soon as the car stopped he slipped out and hurried up the stairs. Nothing he could do about Lassiter’s opinion, though his stomach clenched at the thought of the ammunition he was giving the Viewer. But there was no going back now.

By the time Lassiter and Marny got up the stairs, he had the door open.

Inside, thorny vines covered the walls and hung from the ceiling, bearing bright orange flowers shaped like mouths. The changeling had been busy again.

“Korrigan?” Tam called as they stepped into the living room.

It felt more like an exotic jungle than a room. Slippery yellow-green moss muffled his footsteps, and was that a waterfall in the kitchen? At least it completely camouflaged the messy reality of his house.

“You have a way with decorating, Exie,” Lassiter said. He reached a finger out to touch one of the flowers, then jerked it back when the mouth opened and hissed at him, showing needle-sharp fangs. “Jeez.”

“Come out, Korr.” Marny said. She reached into her pack and drew out a foil-wrapped bar. “I’ve got a treat for you.”

“Protein bar?” The changeling appeared, dangling from a vine attached to the ceiling. He reached a clawed hand out. “Give it.”

Marny waved it at him. “A little less jungle, please. And ditch the carnivorous flowers.”

Korrigan screwed up his ugly face. “You mortals have no appreciation for the spice of danger.”

“We have more than enough danger going on right now,” Tam said. He glanced at Lassiter, who was watching the changeling with wide eyes. “Seen enough?”

The other boy swallowed, all his bravado gone. “Yeah.”

“So, you believe us?” Tam asked. He wanted to hear Lassiter admit that he’d been wrong.

“Fine, fine. You were right.” The other boy kept glancing at Korrigan. “I guess if we can be transported to Feyland, its creatures can come out.”

“You have no idea,” Tam said. “Alright, let’s go.”

“One sec, let me vid this.”

Lassiter pulled out the slimmest messager Tam had ever seen and held it up. He scanned the room, lingering on the figure of Korrigan who hung by one arm and foot, noisily munching the bar Marny had given him.

“Smile,” Marny said to the changeling.

Korrigan opened his mouth in a hideous expression, his lips a gaping slash too wide to be human, his teeth pointed, his eyes slitted nearly shut.

“Nice.” Lassiter flicked off the vid and pocketed his messager.

“Have fun, guys,” Marny said.

Tam frowned at the changeling. “No more water features in the kitchen, ok?”

Korrigan grimaced at him, which was at least better than the changeling’s horrific smile.

“I’ll make him clean up,” Marny said. “I have the rewards, you know.”

“Protein bars.” Tam shook his head. He’d never have thought the changeling liked them, not after that first experience.

“Go,” Marny said. “And be careful.”

“You too. Keep the door fully locked.”

Tam stepped onto the landing, the feeling of being watched prickling between his shoulders. It was past time to get that excruciatingly obvious car of Lassiter’s out of the Exe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet tapped out the answer to another math equation on her tablet, then glanced at her messager for the hundredth time. It lay silent and dark on the corner of her desk. Were the boys and Marny all right? It was too easy to get into trouble in the Exe. She bit her lip, worry shredding her concentration.

She couldn’t do another math problem or she’d scream. Pushing away her homework, she grabbed the messager and stared at it. Could it be broken?

It dinged in her hand, and she jumped. Relief skidded through her when she saw the message from Roy.

:We’re at the palace. Come on over:

On top of the danger of the Exe had been the danger Roy wouldn’t believe them, even when confronted with the changeling. Thank goodness he’d shown a little sense. With Roy, you couldn’t always be sure.

“HANA,” she said, addressing the house.

“Yes, Miss Carter?”

“Let the staff know I’m going out to ride my g-board. And I’ll be visiting Roy Lassiter’s for a bit.”

“Noted. Please return home before dark.”

Five minutes later she was standing in front of the imposing façade of the Lassiters’ mansion, her board tucked under her arm. Her cheeks stung from the cold, and her ears felt numb. The cameras mounted at the entryway swiveled onto her, then the massive doors slowly swung open. Always ones for a grand gesture, the Lassiters.

“Hey, blondie,” Roy said, meeting her at the entry, all his cocky assurance restored.

She stepped into the cool stone-floored foyer and propped her board against the wall. “I take it you were convinced.”

He nodded, the light sliding over his brown hair. It was a muddier color than Tam’s and not as straight. Once, under the influence of fey magic, he’d sported a head of bronzed hair with the most perfect hint of curl. But that was back when he’d been impersonating his better self. At least physically.

And though he still looked as average as ever, she had to admit his personality was marginally improved.

“Where’s Tam?” she asked.

“Getting the systems ready. Come on.”

Roy led the way down the tall, canyon-like hallway. Shadows shrouded the ceiling, and the few sconces shed weak puddles of light on the walls. At the far end towered another set of double doors. They silently opened and Jennet shivered, though she knew it was just the Lassiter’s house network sensing their approach.

Beyond the doors lay the theater. True to its name, it came complete with rows of seats and a floor-to-ceiling screen. But what always stole Jennet’s breath was the number and variety of game systems showcased along the walls—netscreens, moto-sense setups, and dozens of sim systems. Even though she’d seen it before, she still found it stunning.

“What did Tam think of all this?” She waved her hand at the display.

“Oh, he was impressed.” Roy grinned at her. “But he tried not to show it.”

Jennet raised an eyebrow. She was impressed, too. Not by the crazy display of tech wealth, but that Roy had actually left Tam alone with all that valuable equipment.

Roy led her to the FullD systems, partitioned off behind frosted glass panels. His mom, being the CEO of VirtuMax, collected a model of every prototype the company made—which meant the Lassiters had three complete FullD setups. Spot lighting from above illuminated the systems, gleaming off the helmets and supple synth-leather chairs. The LEDs on the gloves twinkled like precious gems.

“There you are,” Tam said, glancing at her through the scrim of hair he’d let fall across his face—always a sign he was worried.

She was too, now that they were about to enter the Twilight Kingdom again.

“I’ll take the middle system,” she said, “since I’ve played on that one.”

Roy nodded, then moved to the FullD on the left. “I’ll be here.”

“I don’t think you can come with us,” Jennet said.

“I’ve been in the Realm before.” Roy narrowed his eyes. “Or are you saying you don’t want me along?”

“Whether we do or not, Jennet and I are going even deeper than Feyland.” Tam slid into his chair and pulled on the gloves. “You can try to follow, but don’t be surprised if you get blocked out.”

Roy’s eyebrows lifted. “There’s something beyond the Realm?”

“Yeah,” Jennet said, picking up her helmet. “It’s called the Twilight Kingdom. And it’s freaky.”

Roy took his seat and started gearing up. “Whatever. I’m still coming into the Realm.”

Jennet didn’t mind. Even if Roy couldn’t make the passage to the Twilight Kingdom, it would be good to have another sword guarding their backs in the Realm. She pulled the helmet on and selected the familiar F key to launch the game.

Dizzying golden light filled her senses, and her stomach lurched. Oh yeah. Back in Feyland for real.

She blinked and took a deep breath as the disorientation faded. Roy’s Mercenary stood to her left, wearing his gleaming gold mail. Bands of gold circled his upper arms, and he wore a huge two-handed sword strapped on his back. On her right was Tam’s Knight, his silver armor shining in the sun. They stood in the middle of a faerie ring of white-spotted red mushrooms. A warm breeze swirled the leaves of the trees rising at the edge of the clearing, where a mossy green path led between the silvery trunks.

“Back to being a fox-girl?” Roy asked.

She glanced down at the vest and leggings she wore, the dagger at her waist. “Right. I made a Kitsune on your system.”

It felt strange to be playing this character again. She scanned through her list of abilities, hoping they wouldn’t have any big fights ahead.

“Will the Twilight Kingdom let you in as a different character?” Roy asked.

“They better.” Tam set his hand on the pommel of his sword. “She’s still Jennet, after all. Ready?”

She nodded, and they stepped out of the ring.

“Puck?” Jennet called, glancing into the forest.

“Aha!” The sprite’s voice rang through the clearing, and a moment later he appeared, springing from the lower branches of a nearby tree. He landed nimbly before them and cocked his head. “You bring the Royal One into the Realm as well? A curious choice.”

“Got a problem with that, little guy?” Roy folded his arms.

“Stop it,” Jennet said. “We have more important things to do than argue.”

“Jennet is right,” said a tall figure striding out from between the pale-barked trees.

“Thomas!” she cried, flinging herself into his arms. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you again.”

He was solid and familiar. She blotted her eyes on the fine linen fabric of his shoulder, then let go of her fierce hug and stepped back

“Why can you come here?” Tam asked. “Judging by the mushrooms, we’re in Bright Court territory.”

“The fey monarchs have made a truce.” Thomas regarded them with wise and weary eyes. “As the queen’s Bard, I serve as ambassador, and am granted passage over the Seelie Court’s lands.”

“Who is this guy?” Roy asked.

“This,” Jennet said, “is Thomas Rimer. Lead developer and programmer for Feyland.”

“But…” Roy’s voice went high. He cleared his throat. “But he’s dead.”

“Am I?” Thomas held out his hands and studied them. “I am not, perhaps, real in the sense that you know, but I exist nonetheless.”

“Inside a computer game?” Roy backed up a step.

Tam turned to the other boy, the edge of impatience in his green eyes. “You know magic is real—you’ve used it yourself. Why is this any stranger?”

“Are we going to get trapped in here too?” Roy asked.

His knuckles were white, fisted tight, and Jennet suspected he wanted to bolt back into the ring and log out.

“I am not trapped,” Thomas said. “Not in the sense you mean. No, I chose this.”

Jennet squeezed the bard’s arm. It was comfortingly sturdy under her fingers.

“Dad told me you had terminal cancer,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

“The doctors didn’t catch it until far too late.”

“So you, what?” Roy made a wild gesture with one hand. “You programmed yourself into Feyland so you wouldn’t die?”

“Nobody could do that,” Tam said. “It was magic, obviously.”

“Tamlin is correct,” Thomas said. “Twas the magic of the Realm. My body was failing. I traded my life to serve the Dark Queen.”

Suspicion blazed through Jennet like a falling star. Thomas had died last summer—when she’d lost her in-game battle with the queen and fallen ill. She’d been hospitalized in critical care, the doctors unable to tell exactly what was wrong with her. It had been grim, until the day she’d woken up feeling a hundred percent better.

Which was right around the time Thomas was found, his lifeless body in his sim chair, still hooked up to the FullD system.

She whirled on him. “Thomas! You sacrificed yourself for me. How could you do that?” Tears burned, hot and bright, in the corners of her eyes.

“Ah, Jennet.” His voice was soft. “You were not destined to waste away, a victim of the queen’s dark magic. I was dying in any case. It was an easy choice.”

Tam put his hand on her shoulder. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Two good men had given themselves to the Dark Queen, for her. She had saved Tam, but…

“You can’t ever come back to our world, can you?” she asked.

Thomas shook his head, sorrow lingering on his lips. “I cannot, as you know.”

“I wish you could.” She swallowed salt.

“Complete the task you have been set,” he said. “Restore the balance. That will be payment enough.”

“Restore the balance… what does that even mean?” Tam asked.

Puck, who had been uncharacteristically silent during this exchange, sprang into the air. “It means you must go, now, into the Twilight Kingdom and wake the Elder Fey.”

At his words, a breeze rose, shimmering the leaves on the trees.

“But, my brother—” Tam began.

“He is well enough,” Thomas said. “There is still time to free him—but your first task must be completed.”

Roy stepped forward, his brown eyes full of questions. “Can I help?”

Jennet glanced at him. She’d never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth, especially spoken with such sincerity.

“Only Fair Jennet and Bold Tamlin can pass the borders of the Realm into the Twilight Kingdom,” Puck said.

“Why?” Roy frowned.

“It is not your quest to complete, Royal One,” Thomas said. “Be assured, your strengths will be called upon—sooner than you might think. Now, bide here with me while the others journey on.”

“Quickly, quickly.” Puck caught Jennet’s sleeve and tugged her toward the mossy path.

“Thomas.” Jennet’s voice caught. “Will I see you again?”

“Most assuredly.” He touched her shoulder. “Be of good heart.”

Vision blurring, she let Puck haul her away. Tam was next to her, his calm strength steadying her until she could blink the tears from her eyes.

“Here.” Puck stopped midway down the path and pointed into the woods. “Through the bracken fern, you will find your portal. The queen calls me now, and I must not tarry. Nor should you. Good luck, mortals!”

He whisked away into the underbrush and was gone.

Tam caught her hand as they left the path, heading for the faint, purplish glow a few yards ahead. Another faerie ring formed of pale-stalked mushrooms—their gateway to the Twilight Kingdom.

Tam pulled her to him and pressed a kiss on her lips, warm and firm.

“Here we go,” he said. “Into the Twilight Kingdom.”

Heart beating fast in her throat, she nodded. She desperately hoped it was for the last time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Icy cold grabbed Tam; stealing his breath, freezing his blood. He was sure he was dying. Then the darkness lifted and he could see again. He knelt in the center of a faerie ring, Jennet beside him, while the tall, strange trees of the Twilight Kingdom waved over their heads.

In the purple light her skin was too pale, her eyes dark hollows in her face. Tam pulled her close, their bodies trembling as they tried to get warm. He coughed and tasted blood, metallic on his tongue.

“That journey’s—not getting any easier,” she said.

If anything, it was getting worse. The air rasped his lungs, and he blinked hard, trying to focus his vision in the eerie dimness. The Twilight Kingdom was not a place for mortals. Staying here too long, or returning once more, would kill them. He felt the truth of it down to his bones.

“Whatever it takes to wake the Elder Fey, we’re doing it,” he said. “Because we’re not coming back here.”

He stood, though his legs still felt weak, and gave Jennet a hand up. They rose into the air, past the wavery trees, until the landscape spread below them. The foothills of the mountains loomed, jagged and dark, just ahead.

“Do you feel it?” Jennet asked.

“Yeah.”

The moment they cleared the trees, he’d been aware of a tugging sensation in his chest, pulling him toward the dark mass of the peaks. Something wanted them to go there. He only hoped it wasn’t something looking for a human snack.

As he and Jennet approached, he scanned the barren slopes. He flew higher, the wind whipping his hair. Higher still. Until…

“There.” Jennet pointed to an opening in the rock limned with orange light.

“I hope we’re not flying into a live volcano. That could get messy.”

“At least it would be warm.”

Tam angled for the opening. It looked like a cave mouth, but as he got closer he saw it was too regular to be a normal cave. The opening was ten feet high and perfectly rounded at the top. A whiff of sulfur stung his nose. Slowly he descended to a floor paved with huge, smooth blocks of obsidian.

Jennet landed next to him. She looked better—or maybe it was the orange light softening the shadows on her face.

“A tunnel,” she said, peering deeper into the opening.

He wasn’t giving up the volcano theory. In addition to the smell, the air was warmer here. Soft gusts chased the last of the chill from his body.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Tam…” Jennet gave him an anxious look. “I can’t fly.”

He imagined rising up into the air—but nothing happened. His feet remained firmly on the dark stone. Looked like the rules had changed again, once they were inside the mountain.

“Then we walk,” he said.

One hand on his sword, he led the way. His armored feet rang over the smooth floor, though Jennet was silent behind him. The tunnel began sloping down, and the orange light grew brighter, the last sliver of dim purple sky disappearing behind them. As he’d feared, the temperature was rising.

He glanced at Jennet. Determination shone from her blue eyes, and she gripped her staff tightly in one hand. Crazy love surged in his blood, so sweet and strong he could barely breathe, could barely move. He would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.

“All right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” No.

He wanted them out of there, back in the real world, the faeries defeated, his brother returned. But the only way out was to keep going forward.

Tam touched her cheek, then made himself turn and head down the tunnel. His footsteps clanged against the stone, the light and heat growing stronger with every step. The air itself felt thicker, viscous and sticky, as if he was wading through honey. A drop of sweat trickled down his back.

Jennet let out a gasping breath. Tam caught her hand and together they pressed through the hot, thick air. The orange light took on a searing edge, and he blinked at the brightness. If they didn’t get to the end of the tunnel soon, he and Jennet would end up collapsing into little wet puddles of humanity on the floor. His throat burned, acrid and dry.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened out into an enormous cavern. The terrible pressure surrounding them eased, although the heat remained, scorching his skin. Tam halted, pulling Jennet to a stop as the path turned into a ledge. A drop-off of hundreds of yards plummeted at their feet, molten rock seething below in a lake of orange fire.

“Look,” she said, her voice a bare thread of sound.

A dark island rose in the middle of the lake, steep-sided and made of shining midnight stone. The peak ascended to their eye level, and something lay there.

Something sinuous and winged. Something black-scaled and clawed. Its head was turned toward them, its eyes lidded closed. It lay perfectly still on its bed of stone, only the twin trails of smoke rising from its nostrils to show the creature was alive.

“Now what?” Jennet whispered.

Tam swallowed.

“Now,” he said, “we wake the Elder Fey.”

“The Elder Fey are dragons?”

“Apparently.” It didn’t surprise him, as though the knowledge had been there, waiting all along for him to recognize it.

Jennet glanced down at the fiery lake. Tam judged the distance to the sheer sides of the island across from them. Though the Elder Fey slumbered frighteningly close, there were roughly twenty-five feet separating them. Way too far for them to jump.

The ledge they stood on didn’t lead anywhere, except back into the tunnel. There was no stairway or bridge, no way he could see to reach the island.

“We can’t fly,” Jennet said, “so how do we get over there?”

“Maybe we don’t.” Tam peered at the black dragon sleeping out of their reach. “Can you think of any way to wake it up?”

“Shoot magefire at it?”

He didn’t like the idea. What if the dragon woke and attacked them? But they didn’t have a lot of other options. He slid his sword out of its scabbard.

“Alright,” he said. “Give it a try, but be ready to run back up the tunnel.”

He didn’t think the Elder Fey could pursue them into that small space, though he didn’t want to put it to the test.

Jennet lifted her staff and fired a bolt of blue magefire at the dragon. The bolt hit, sizzling against the dark scales beside one wing. Tam braced himself for an attack, but the dragon continued to slumber.

“Try again.” His fear began churning into frustration.

She struck again, aiming for the wing. The creature didn’t stir. Another bolt of blue lightning glanced off its head, to no effect.

“I guess it’s immune to magic.” Jennet lowered her staff.

“Worth a try, though.”

Tam squinted across to the peak, judging the distance. He hefted his sword, finding the balance point, then lifted it like a huge metal dart.

“Careful,” Jennet breathed.

Taking a deep breath of overheated air, he drew his arm back. This had to count—it was the only sword he had. He took three long steps into the tunnel, then lunged forward to the very edge of the precipice, propelling his blade point-first toward the slumbering dragon.

“Tam!”

Jennet caught him around the waist and pulled him back to safety. His sword flew, the gleaming silver blade flickering with orange light. Yes… yes….

No.

The sword clattered to the stone, a hand’s breadth from the creature’s head.

“Damn,” he said.

Sweat dampened his neck, and the thickness of the air choked his lungs. Jennet slumped against the wall, a strand of hair sticking to her face.

Tam cupped his hands around his mouth, drew in a lungful of red air, and yelled, “Wake up!”

The words echoed in the cavernous space—but the sleeping dragon didn’t stir.

“We can’t have gotten this far, just to fail,” Tam said. “There has to be a way.”

“I keep waiting for Puck to show up. But I don’t think he’s going to.” Weariness smudged Jennet’s eyes.

“Now would be a good time.” He pushed through the thick air to join her against the rock wall. “It’s getting hotter.”

Jennet nodded. Then a curious expression crossed her face. She drew her hand out of the pocket of her robes.

“Look,” she said. “I’d forgotten.” A white stone sat in her palm, glowing faintly. “From Puck, remember? To use in a time of despair.”

“I think this qualifies.” Tam picked the stone up and turned it between his fingers. “But how do we use it?”

“Throw it?”

“No. We can’t risk losing it if we miss. Or wasting our chance, if we hit the dragon and it doesn’t wake up.” He handed the stone back to her. “Puck gave it to you. Which means you can use it.”

“I don’t know!” Frustration sent her words spiraling into the air.

Oh, oh, the syllables echoed back at them, magnified.

“Do that again,” he said.

“What?”

Ut, ut.

Jennet looked at the bright stone in her hand, then closed her eyes. She hummed, low in her throat, and the sound amplified, filling the cavern. On the peak before them, one black wing twitched, and Tam caught his breath.

She opened her mouth and began to sing.

“Sleep, O babe, for the red-bee hums

The silent twilight’s fall.

Aoibheall from the Grey Rock comes,

To wrap the world in thrall.”

The song curled through the cavern, the rocks vibrating with overtones. Jennet’s voice was clear and thin. As she sang, the melody gathered strength, growing more piercing and lovely.

“A leanbhan O, my child, my joy,

My love and heart’s desire,

The crickets sing you lullaby

Beside the dying fire.”

The heat that had been pressing heavily against his lungs, his thoughts, lifted. The lake of molten rock dimmed, the waves cooling to a sullen red while Jennet sang on.

“Dusk is drawn, and the Green Man’s Thorn

Is wreathed in rings of fog.

Siabhra sails his boat til morn

Upon the Starry Bog.”

The midnight dragon stirred, one huge dark wing rising, flexing. Tam wished he had his sword. He took a step in front of Jennet and raised his shield.

“A leanbhan O, the pale half moon

Hath brimmed her cusp in dew,

And weeps to hear the sad sleep-tune

I sing, O love, to you.”

One eye slitted open, brilliant gold. Tam’s heart pounded, his head filled with the haunting, twining melody.

The dragon raised its head, a quick, sinuous motion, and fixed its impossibly ancient gaze on Tam and Jennet. Fear, icy and primal, sliced through Tam as though he were a mouse, transfixed in the shadow of some huge raptor.

The Elder Fey had woken.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet took another breath of fiery air and kept singing. She stumbled over a couple of the words, but the song poured from her mouth, haunting and lyrical. Her mother used to sing to her at night, a forgotten lullaby she’d buried deep, along with the pain of her mom leaving. Somehow the song had resurfaced when she most needed it.

“Jennet,” Tam whispered.

Her name was a thread of sound, barely audible over the echoes of the song. She opened her eyes, then shrank back, pressing her shoulders against the hot stone behind her.

The dragon stood, obsidian claws scraping the peak it had slumbered on, and unfurled wings so dark they seemed to suck all the light into their shadowy folds.

*Who wakes me?*

The Elder Fey did not speak, not in human fashion, but the meaning sounded in her head, sibilant and displeased.

Tam cleared his throat and stepped to the front of the ledge. His right hand was fisted, knuckles white.

“Greetings,” he said, bowing to the huge creature. “We are mortals, sent here by those in the Realm of Faerie.” He paused, clearly searching for words.

The dragon blinked, slowly, rainbow lids coruscating.

*I am not concerned with your tiny, transient lives. Leave, so I may return to dreaming the worlds into being.*

Jennet pushed herself away from the rock and went to stand beside Tam.

“You are needed to restore the balance,” she said, her pulse pounding in her veins, hot and panicked.

*The balance is not at risk.*

“It is.” Tam’s voice rose. “My little brother is captive in the Dark Court.”

*Mortals are taken by the fey. It is the way of things.* The dragon opened its mouth in a huge, dangerous yawn, its teeth serrated and sharp as diamonds.

“Listen,” Jennet said. “The faerie courts are trying to find a way to open a permanent gateway into our world—and they almost have! Doesn’t that count?”

The dragon regarded them a moment with its unreadable eyes, then lifted its massive black head and let out a deep, crooning cry. The sound vibrated to the soles of her feet, and she clutched at her mage staff, fighting for balance. Tam stumbled back against her, then straightened, his hand going to his empty scabbard.

A bolt of blue hurtled into the cavern—a smaller dragon, gleaming like polished sapphire. It hovered in front of the black dragon, wings moving in graceful arcs, and dipped its head. If the two creatures were conversing, it was in a way not meant for mortal understanding. A moment later, the blue dragon was gone, disappeared through some invisible passageway.

The black dragon lowered itself onto the rock, as smoothly as oil gliding over water. It gazed at Jennet with its golden eyes.

*Sing once more, while I await the messenger’s return.*

She glanced at the white stone, still glowing in her hand. Melodies swirled through her, half-forgotten, unbidden.

“Jennet?” Tam touched her arm.

The look in his eyes made her heart spill over. She took his hand and began to sing.

“The water is wide, I cannot cross over,

And neither have I wings to fly,

Give me a boat that can carry two,

And both shall row, my love and I.”

The dragon let out a low sigh that blended with the ringing echoes. It was a sigh edged with old sorrows, brightened with hope. It was a sigh thousands of years old.

*Enough.*

“Do you think the dragon didn’t like my song?” Jennet asked Tam in a low voice.

“I don’t care.” He squeezed her fingers. “It was perfect.”

The blue dragon streaked into the cavern again and hovered in front of its leader.

“That was fast,” Jennet said.

“I’m guessing time and space don’t mean a lot to the Elder Fey.”

“Is it getting warmer in here again?” She pushed a strand of hair behind one ear.

“Yeah. Look at the lake.”

Jennet peeked over the side of the ledge, to see the molten surface shimmering bright orange once more.

The black dragon hissed, a sound like death. She shuddered, and Tam pulled her into his arms. The air grew harsh and thick, and gouts of lava fountained from the lake, spattering dangerously close to the ledge.

Was this it? They woke the Elder Fey, then died inside the Twilight Kingdom? She held tightly to Tam, fright battering her breath.

*The fey have overstepped. Mortals, attend.*

“We’re listening,” Tam said.

The blue dragon turned and came straight at them. Jennet flinched, but before crashing into them, it halted. It was small, compared to the black dragon, but still big—at least fifteen feet long. It fixed them with the same eerie golden eyes, and Jennet had the feeling it found them amusing.

*Collect your blade, earthly knight.*

The blue dragon held out one clawed foot. Nestled in the cage of sharp talons was Tam’s sword. He reached for it, his face pale.

“Ow.” Tam winced as the edge of one talon touched his skin. A single line of blood welled on the back of his hand, bright crimson, as he took his sword.

*Collect your blade, fair maiden.*

“I don’t have a blade,” Jennet said.

*The Blade of the Elder Fey is in your keeping until the balance is restored. Once drawn, the blade will not rest until it tastes blood. Unsheathe it only when true battle is upon you.*

The blue dragon held out a slim silver casing, presumably housing the deadly blade. Jennet glanced at Tam, fear pushing up through her throat. She really didn’t want the thing.

“Everything here has a reason,” he said, setting his hand on her shoulder. “Take it.”

Slowly, she reached out. Her fingers looked tiny and fragile in contrast to the deadly elegance of the blue dragon’s claws. Just before she touched them, the dragon released the scabbard, dropping the Blade of the Elder Fey into her hands.

Heat rushed over her, and the molten lake seethed. The black dragon rose, wings beating like thunder. She choked on the air, too hot, too hot.

*Fate is set in motion. Return now to your place.*

The solid rock tilted under her feet, then disappeared. A hundred pairs of golden eyes, ageless and unpitying, regarded her. She heard Tam shout, as if from a distance. The blade seared her left palm—the one that still bore the scars of Feyland—until she screamed from the pain burning into her flesh.

The Twilight Kingdom whirled around her, and was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

“Jennet!”

Panic clawed through Tam. Her scream still echoed in his ears as he was plunged into a heavy mist. A moment later, he stood alone on a flat plain, silken wisps of grey surrounding him in all directions.

“Jennet!” he called again.

He turned in a circle, straining to see something. Anything. The light lay tranquil and heavy about him. His pulse beat loudly, like a broken clock in a place time didn’t exist.

“Jennet?” This time it came out a whisper.

There was nothing but empty solitude in reply.

After a minute, or an eternity, he saw a figure coming toward him through the mist. A woman! His breath turned leaden when he realized it wasn’t Jennet. Just as quickly his disappointment pivoted to fear, heart clenching when he recognized who it was.

The Dark Queen of the fey.

Her midnight hair flowed like silk around the beautiful, dangerous planes of her face. Her dress swirled behind her as though it were part of the landscape, all shadows and fog. She met his gaze, her eyes fathomless and deep, with an expression that cut him to the heart.

“Bold Tamlin,” she said in a voice like smoke. “What have you done?”

He didn’t want to answer—couldn’t answer, his mouth dry, his senses stunned.

In the real world, his memories of her were pale recollections of the dangerous radiance of her eyes, the yearning she conjured up in his blood. The true Dark Queen, standing before him, had the power to ensnare his mind. If he let her.

Swallowing hard, he conjured up Jennet’s image and tore his gaze away.

“My knight,” she said. “You have meddled where no mortal should go.”

“I’m not your knight.”

Cold washed over him, the ice of her displeasure. “There is still time to turn aside.”

“I don’t think so.” He made the mistake of looking into her eyes again, and was caught, snared in promises and mystery.

She reached one delicate hand to trace his jaw, leaving searing frost in the wake of her touch. Tam shivered, senses clamoring with panic and need.

“Would you consign me,” she said, “indeed, my entire Realm—to death? Would you deprive your own world of all traces of magic? Without you, we shall wither and die until there is nothing left but black emptiness. Is that what you truly desire, Tamlin?”

“Give me back my brother.” He forced the words out through lips gone numb.

“Ah, bargains.” She smiled, starlight and the darkness between.

“No bargains. Just return him to me.”

“There is a cost to everything.” Her voice dipped, resonant with promise. “What would you give me to restore your brother to the mortal realm, unharmed? Once, you offered yourself.”

His lips shaped the word no.

Chill crackled through the air, and she narrowed her eyes. The mist blew in tatters about them.

“Everything beloved will be lost to you.” Her words were a blade slipped beneath his ribs.

Could he do it, trade himself to the faeries again, to keep his brother safe?

He clenched his fists, fingers burning with cold. The only reason the Dark Queen wanted him was as a sacrifice to open the gateway between her world and his own. Once that happened, no one would be safe—not his brother, not anyone. It was a hollow hope she offered.

“No,” he said, putting force behind it.

“Thrice you have denied me.” The fury in her voice was like black ice, treacherous and deadly. The rising wind whipped her hair into a dark tangle. “I abandon you here, once-knight, to the fate you have earned.”

A frigid gust made Tam close his eyes. When he opened them, she was gone, but the wind remained, cold and fierce. He wrapped his arms around himself, surprised to find he wore his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. No armor. No protection from the bitter air.

He couldn’t just stand there, or he’d freeze to death. Hunching his shoulders, he headed in the direction from which the queen had come. Misery edged his thoughts, clear and brittle as frost on a fallen leaf. He’d had a chance to save his brother… but it was an impossible choice. The cost was too high, for everyone.

The knowledge didn’t keep his heart from breaking.

A faint sound caught his ears, and he stopped, jerking his head up to listen. The whistling wind drowned everything out, even his own ragged breathing. Nothing. He waited until shivers racked his body, then bowed his head and trudged on, into the blankness.

The sound came again, and his heart bumped with sudden hope. The clear notes of a guitar, plucked in melody. Rising, falling. Barely breathing, he turned to the right and followed the trail of music.

The notes grew louder, and the fear wrapping him began to unravel. Ahead, the monotony of fog was broken by something on the ground. Tam stumbled forward, teeth chattering. Transparent mushrooms grew in a circle, an insubstantial faerie ring made of mist. His passage home.

A freezing blast shredded the ring into nothing but cloudy wisps, and Tam fell to his knees.

“No,” he whispered.

Still, the music did not fail. Tam kept his eyes fixed on the place the ring had been. He felt lightheaded. It had to reappear. Please.

The faintest suggestion of mushrooms wavered in the air. The melody grew insistent, and he rose to his feet, his pulse crashing desperately in his veins. Holding his breath, he flung himself into the ghostly faerie ring.

Cold gripped him, the midnight ice of the Dark Queen’s smile. He ached, as if his whole body was a bruise.

“Tam?” Jennet’s voice, tight with worry. Her hand on his forehead, stroking back his hair. “Can you hear me?”

Music still dripped into the air, stronger now. He was so tired, and everything was black. Or maybe his eyes were closed. He pried his eyelids open, each one weighing a hundred pounds. Jennet stared at him, her face pale. Above her shone the white-barked trees of the Realm. He lay on his back in the middle of a faerie ring, moss as soft as velvet under his head.

“Thank god,” she said, leaning over to press her lips against his.

At first he could barely feel the kiss, then heat began to spread through him, little sparks flaring painfully to life. He lifted his arms and encircled her, holding her close.

“Ahem.” Roy Lassiter tapped Tam on the shoulder. “Enough with the happy reunion. Don’t we have some fighting to do?”

Tam sat up, his hands and feet burning as circulation returned. Bard Thomas stood playing his guitar at the outskirts of the circle, and Puck hovered cross-legged in the air beside him. Thomas nodded at Tam, his fingers stilling on the strings.

“Thanks,” Tam said. “I wouldn’t have made it without your music.”

“I am glad you heard it well enough to follow it back to us.” The look in the bard’s eyes suggested he knew where Tam had been. And who he had seen.

Jennet grabbed his hand. “When I returned without you, we were so worried. Thomas thought you’d gotten sucked elsewhere.”

Midnight shadows whispered through Tam’s mind.

“Yeah, I did.”

He wasn’t going to talk about the Dark Queen—not when they were still within her Realm. Maybe not ever.

“So, what went wrong?” Lassiter asked. “Are you going back in now?”

“No,” Tam said. “We’re done.”

“What?” The other boy tipped his head. “You were only gone like ten minutes. How can you be done?”

“Time moves differently between the worlds,” Thomas said. “What seems a minute to us is much longer in the Twilight Kingdom. Tam and Jennet have succeeded in waking the Elder Fey.”

“So, now what?” Lassiter asked. “Puck here seems to think we’ve got an epic battle ahead.”

“Indeed,” the sprite said, his expression sober.

Tam gave Lassiter a questioning look and the other boy folded his arms. “Thomas brought me up to speed. The Twilight Kingdom, the courts joining forces. Lots going on. You could have told me.”

“We did,” Jennet said.

“Yeah, after the fun was over.”

“Trust me, it hasn’t been fun.” Tam scrubbed his hands through his hair. “And it’s not over. We have to get my little brother out of the Dark Court.”

“The three of us?” Lassiter frowned and glanced over at Puck and Thomas. “Five of us?”

Thomas shook his head, his eyes weary. “I cannot oppose the queen—I serve her. And Puck is not able be part of your battles, either.”

“It might work.” Jennet looked from Tam to Lassiter. She lifted her hand, clenched around a silver scabbard. “I have this.”

“No,” Thomas said. “The three of you cannot prevail against the combined powers of the Bright Court and the Dark, even if you carry the Blade of the Elder Fey.”

“Then what do we do?” Frustration burned Tam’s tongue.

“Gather your allies,” Puck said. He made a slow cartwheel and regarded Tam, a touch of his usual mischief showing in his eyes.

“But—”

A low, eerie howl echoed through the night, and Thomas looked up into the star-strewn darkness above them.

“The Wild Hunt,” he said. “You must depart, quickly.”

Lassiter offered Tam a hand up, to his surprise. His bones ached as he stood. It took a moment to find his balance before he followed Thomas down the fern-lined path weaving between the trees. It ended at a clearing where the usual white-spotted red mushrooms formed a circle.

“See you out there,” Lassiter said, leaping into the center.

Jennet kissed Thomas on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Guard each other well,” the bard said. “This is not ended yet.”

Another howl shivered the night.

Much as Tam’s heart begged him to stay in the Realm and storm the Dark Court to rescue his brother, he couldn’t. Yet.

Swallowing bitter impatience, he caught Jennet’s hand, and together they stepped into the faerie ring.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet braced herself as golden light whirled about her senses. When her vision cleared, she was sitting in the sim-chair at Roy’s, the guys on either side of her. She sat forward and slowly removed her gloves. Heart thumping with hope, she lifted her left hand.

The red burn scars she had borne since All Hallow’s Eve were gone. Her palm was still pink, but the shiny, seared flesh running the length of her fingers had disappeared. She drew in a deep breath and rubbed her thumb over her hand. The new skin tingled, the whorls of her fingerprints restored.

Still, they hadn’t won yet. She and Tam had succeeded in waking the Elder Fey, but the Bug was still trapped in the Realm. Other than fixing her hand and giving her a deadly blade, it was impossible to tell if the Elder Fey had actually done anything.

“Whew.” Roy pulled off his helmet. “You two have some freaky experiences in-game, I have to say.”

Tam stripped off his gear. “You should have seen the Twilight Kingdom.”

“No thanks—I’ll leave the crazy stuff to you.”

“Now what?” Jennet said, looking at Tam.

His expression grim, he held her gaze. “Now… we have some explaining to do.”

Roy nodded. “Thought so. I’ll tell Spark.”

“Tell her what?” Jennet asked.

“You have the hardest part,” Tam said to her. “You have to convince your dad to sneak the beta team into VirtuMax late tonight.”

“What?” Shock made her blink.

“Puck said we had to gather our allies. That means the beta-test team.”

“With the exception of Coranne Smith,” Roy said. “She’d never go for it.”

“No kidding,” Tam said. “Last thing we need is the company whistle blower.”

“Wait.” Jennet couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “So, you’re saying the plan is to get the rest of the team to come in-game with us?”

“In-Realm,” Tam said. “We can’t defeat the fey monarchs without the team. Zeg will come. Even if he doesn’t believe me, he’ll love the chance to break into VirtuMax headquarters after hours, just to say he did.”

“I can convince Spark,” Roy said. “I’ve got the vid of Korrigan, after all. She might not buy the whole story until we get in-game, but she’s always up for a challenge.”

“Which leaves your dad,” Tam said. “Jennet—you can do it. It’s ok to stand up to him. He’ll still love you tomorrow, I promise.”

“Can’t we do it without him?” Jennet shot Roy a pleading look. “You can get us into the building, right?”

He folded his arms. “Give me a few days to hack my mom’s access codes, sure.”

“We don’t have a few days.” Tam flung his gloves down on the sim-chair, his face tight. “We have to go in tonight. The Dark Queen knows what we did, that the Elder Fey are awake. My brother isn’t safe.”

“My car is approved for The View’s gate access until midnight,” Roy said. “I’ll take you into Crestview to get Zeg, Tam. Then we’ll swing back by Spark’s VIP digs and fill her in. Jennet, you and your dad can meet us there. One hour.”

“But…” She swallowed.

She’d never been able to convince her dad the danger of the Realm was real. Why would he believe her now?

Tam’s messager beeped as he and Lassiter swooped out of The View in the red grav-car. He dug in his pack and pulled it out, hoping it wasn’t Jennet with bad news. To his surprise, the message came from Zeg. Tam scanned it, stomach tightening, and let out a quiet curse.

“What?” Lassiter said, taking a corner too fast. Good thing he liked to speed.

“Change of plans—we’re heading to my place. Zeg’s there. Marny called him when she and the changeling were attacked.”

“Attacked?” Lassiter asked. “The hell. They okay?”

He ran a red light, and Tam braced his feet on the carpeted floor.

“I hope so. Zeg didn’t say much. I’m telling him we’re on the way.” Tam’s fingers flew over the messager.

“Why didn’t Marny message you?”

“She knows how crucial our game-play was this afternoon.”

Tam didn’t mention how faulty reception was in the Exe. She might have tried to message him, with no luck. He leaned forward, willing the car to go faster.

“Did evil faeries track them down?”

“No. The changeling is an evil faerie, remember?” His messager beeped again, with Zeg’s reply. “Damn. It was the smoke drifters down the street.”

All the activity had drawn too much attention to his place. Leaving Marny with the changeling had endangered her, and it was his fault. He shouldn’t have ignored that prickle between his shoulders. In the Exe, disregarding the danger signals left you dead.

He wouldn’t discount faerie involvement, either. It would be easy enough to stir the drifters up, then point them in the direction of his house—and it seemed like exactly the kind of thing the Unseelie would do. Especially if the queen commanded it.

“But the drifters are gone, right?” Lassiter said. “Defeated?”

“They might have backed off for now, but…” Tam shivered.

Smoke drifters were unpredictably violent once provoked. He had to get everyone out of his place and lock it down tight before the drifters returned. Tomorrow, he’d go back and keep a low profile until the drifters calmed again.

“You ever think of moving?” Lassiter asked.

“No.” As if his family had anyplace else to go.

“Well, you should.”

Lassiter seemed blissfully unaware that people didn’t choose to live in the Exe.

“Turn left here,” Tam said when they got to Stark Way. They’d made it to the Exe in record time.

“The city ought to replace these streetlights,” Lassiter said as the grav-car slipped into a wide pool of shadow.

“They ignore this neighborhood,” Tam said. “Go right at the next street.”

His block was quiet—but it was an aftermath kind of silence, thick with tension.

“Stay with the car,” Tam said as they slid to a stop behind Zeg’s battered guzzler. “I’ll go get them.”

“Here.” Lassiter rummaged beside his seat, then handed Tam a small black object. “It’s a taser. Just in case.”

Trust Lassiter to have a weapon—not that it would do much good against crazed smoke-drifters. Tam pocketed it and nodded his thanks.

“Be right back.” He hoped.

The cold night air carried the smell of rot that permeated the Exe. Tam carefully mounted the stairs. They creaked under his feet. When he got to the seventh tread, he stopped, heart twisting. The stair was gone—just a hole where something, or someone, had crashed through. Fresh gouges splintered the railing, testimony to violence.

The landing showed more evidence of the fight. The door was dented, and the glass in the living room’s wire-webbed windows was broken, crushed bits hanging together around the rusted wire. Somebody could get through that shattered opening, if they wanted to. He hoped there was a big enough sheet of metal to cover it downstairs in the abandoned auto shop.

“Guys?” He tapped the door. “It’s me, Tam.”

The peephole slid open, and he caught a glimpse of frizzy beard. Then the locks snicked, and Zeg opened the door.

“Tam,” Marny said. She jumped off the couch and gave him a rib-cracking hug.

“Good to see you, too.” Alive and unhurt, thank god. “What happened?”

He pulled back and spotted Korrigan crouching in the corner, his ugly face fierce, his claws bared.

“A couple hours after you and Roy left, we heard someone coming up the stairs. The smoke drifters. They said if we gave them all the money we had, they’d go away. Then they tried to batter down the door.”

“We fought them,” the changeling said. “Mistress Marny laid about with her club, while I sent poisonous crawlies to bite and torment.”

“Club?”

“Yeah,” Marny said. “One guy started coming through the window, so I bashed him with the lamp. Between that and Korr’s bugs, we drove them off. Then I called Uncle Zeg.”

“They haven’t come back?”

“Yet,” Zeg said from his place by the door. “But they will. Grab anything important, Tam, anything you want to keep for good, and bring it down to my car. We’re clearing you out of here.”

The pit of his stomach felt empty and cold. “This is my home. I can’t just leave.”

“Now that you can accompany me, we may leave.” Korrigan scrambled into the kitchen and began piling up protein bars. “We must take these, and the screenie system.”

“Tam.” Marny set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not secure here any more.”

“But what if my mom…” He swallowed, hard, forcing his voice not to tremble. “What will Mom think, when she comes home?”

“You can’t stay here.” Zeg moved to the net system and began winding the cords. “I’ll take this down. You get your stuff.”

Numbly, Tam gathered a few items of clothing for both him and the Bug. His brother’s favorite book. The tattered bald teddy bear that had been Mom’s when she was a girl.

Marny put the belongings in the middle of one of the Bug’s blankets. It made a pitifully small heap. “Anything from the bedroom?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Picture album, jewelry box.”

“Go get them.”

In the bedroom, Tam also grabbed Mom’s favorite dress, the one with the green flowers, and her last bottle of meds. Nothing else seemed worth saving.

Zeg came inside, bringing the chilly air with him. “Hurry,” he said, his voice tight. “There’s something going on at the end of the street.”

Korrigan went to the door, dragging a plastic bag full of protein bars behind him.

“Let us away,” he said.

Marny shouldered the blanket bundled with Tam’s possessions. “Anything else?”

“No.” Tam thought a moment. “There’s a brand new Zing system downstairs.”

Zeg shook his head. “Hopefully the drifters won’t think of the shop—or be able to break in. We’ll come get it tomorrow.”

“Once we repair the window, we can bring everything back,” Tam said.

Marny gave him a doubtful look, and Zeg stayed quiet.

“Come, come,” Korrigan said, his voice high and impatient.

“Marny, ride with me.” Zeg held open the door. “Tam, you and the changeling go with Roy.”

“But—”

“Git ’em!” a rough voice cried from the street. “They’re taking the loot!”

“GO!” Zeg shouted, pulling Marny with him down the stairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Zeg and Marny leaped over the broken step, with Tam and Korrigan right behind them. Half a block away, torches smeared the air with oily light as the nest of smoke drifters advanced. Skeever was in the lead, and Tam prayed he’d forgotten his gun.

“Hey!” Lassiter stuck his head out of the grav-car. “What’s going on?”

He shot a glance at the torch-bearing drifters and went pale.

“Start the car!” Tam called, clearing the last step.

Marny reached Zeg’s guzzler and wrenched the door open. It emitted a loud screech, and Skeever’s head went up, his crazed eyes wide.

“Over there, idjits!” he yelled, shaking his torch toward the cars.

The drifters surged forward.

“Get in.” Zeg gave Marny a push. “All of you, go!”

“Tam, hurry!” Lassiter yelled, sliding the passenger-side door open.

Tam dove for the grav-car, then stopped. Movement on the street behind the drifters caught his eyes. A frail, familiar form, in a yellow coat he knew too well.

“Mom,” he whispered.

They had to get her out of there. The drifters hadn’t noticed her yet, but they were primed for violence. When they did… Tam shuddered. He couldn’t think of the consequences.

“My mom’s out there,” he said to Zeg. “I have to get her.”

Zeg paused, one hand on his car door. “I’ll help.”

“No. Get Marny out of here.”

Tam couldn’t risk everyone—though he had no idea what he was going to do.

Zeg gave him a look, then glanced at Marny, waiting in his car. With a low curse, he threw himself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The guzzler started with a coughing roar and then pulled away, leaving an acrid cloud of exhaust. The drifters started yelling. One of them flung a rock that left a dent in the shiny finish of Lassiter’s car.

Pulse pounding, Tam scooped up Korrigan and tossed him into the back seat, ignoring the creature’s angry squall as protein bars littered the ground.

“Gotcha!” a harsh voice cried.

Hard fingers closed over Tam’s arm, and he pivoted to see the wild yellow eyes of Skeever glaring at him. Without thinking, he pulled Lassiter’s taser out of his pocket and jabbed it at the drifter’s arm.

Electricity arced from the end of the device, and Skeever convulsed. He doubled over with a strangled cry, letting go of Tam.

Heart racing, Tam leaped into the car. Lassiter peeled down the shadowy street, not waiting for the door to shut.

“Wait,” Tam gasped, the after-image of white lines printed on his eyelids. “We have to go back.”

“Hell, no. Close the door.”

“Roy, my mom’s back there. We can’t leave her for the drifters.”

“The timing sucks.” He let out an angry breath. “Hold on.”

Tam gripped the edge of the door as Lassiter wrenched the wheel. The grav-car spun into a U-turn, the dilapidated buildings spinning around them. Korrigan growled from the back seat.

“There.” Tam gripped the open edge of the door. “In the yellow coat, behind the drifters.”

Lassiter thumbed a switch on the dash, and the air was split by sirens and flashing lights. The smoke drifters milled, confused by the sudden noise. As they peeled past the mob, the reek of torches and unwashed bodies stung Tam’s nose. He glimpsed wild eyes and makeshift weapons. Two of the men were carrying bottles with rags stuffed in the top. Homemade bombs. His blood chilled.

“Mom!” he yelled, leaning precariously out of the car.

“Tam?” She squinted at the lights, her voice thin and scared. “What’s going on?”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the car. She landed awkwardly on his lap, and Tam waved the door closed. The air cracked with a gunshot, and he saw Skeever, his face lit garishly by Lassiter’s lights, waving his gun.

Lassiter accelerated, the force of it pressing Tam into his seat.

A chest-vibrating whump exploded behind them. The sky lit with flames, the buildings around them reflecting the hungry orange light. Knowing what he’d see, Tam swiveled around in the seat, trying to shield his mom from the knowledge.

The top of the old auto shop was covered in fire, accelerant-fueled flames consuming his house. The blue tarp on the roof curled and melted, the metal scorched, and anything that could burn, did, blackening before his eyes.

Korrigan watched out the back window, his claws dug into the seat where he perched.

“Fire,” he said, gleefully.

Tam turned back around, grief clogging his throat.

“What’s going on?” His mom blinked at him. “Where are we?”

Her hair was tangled and greasy, and she felt way too light on his lap. Had she eaten a single meal since she’d left? At least she recognized him. She’d been coming home—and now they had no home to return to.

“We’re…” He cleared his throat. “We’re going to visit a friend. Don’t worry, Mom.”

Lassiter turned the corner, a little more gently than usual, and they headed out of the Exe. Away from the rising column of dense black smoke that marked the only home Tam had ever known.

Korrigan chomped on protein bars in the back seat, Lassiter shot glances at Tam, and his mom sat quietly, still sunk in some half-dreaming stupor.

“Lucky we got her out of there,” Lassiter said.

He didn’t know how unbelievably lucky it was that Tam’s mom had shown up right then. What if she’d come home a day later, to an empty, burned-out shell of a house? Tam might have lost her forever.

“Mom?” he asked softly, “What made you come back tonight?”

“The little girl,” his mom said. “She was so pretty. Shiny wings. Said it was time to come home. She touched me, here, and brought me back.”

His mom held out her wrist. On the inside her skin bore the mark of four delicate fingers, a glowing spatter of silver light. Tam’s spine tingled with the recognition of fey magic. One of the faeries had led his mother home—out of her dreams and confusion, to a street filled with violence. It was impossible to tell if the creature had wished to do harm, or had simply interfered with no ill intent.

“Korr, you know anything about this?”

The changeling peered between the front seats, his bulbous eyes lit eerily by passing streetlights.

“I know naught—but the barrier separating the Realm and your world is much weakened. Many things have slipped free to wander, this night.”

“Great,” Lassiter said.

“We have to get in-game and shut the fey down, for good,” Tam said. “Hey!”

Korrigan’s dark claws had closed on his skin, pinching hard.

“Mortal boy,” the changeling hissed. “Do not rob us of sustenance. We shall waste and wither, until the Realm is no more.”

Tam pulled his arm away and rubbed at the red marks left by the changeling’s claws. “I’m doing what I have to.”

Letting the dark faeries, or the bright ones for that matter, invade the human world was not an option.

Halfway up the wide, landscaped street winding to The View, Tam spotted Zeg’s guzzler squatted at the curb.

“Pull over,” he said.

Lassiter did, his lights sweeping over the battered car. Zeg and Marny got out, Marny carrying the blanket with the last of Tam’s possessions bundled inside.

Lassiter slid the doors of the grav-car open. “Special View taxi at your service.”

“Thanks.” Zeg settled his bulk in the back seat. “I figured the gate guards wouldn’t let me through this time of night.”

Marny sat beside him, tucking the bundle at her feet.

“Crowded in here,” she said. “And no, Korr, you can’t sit on my lap.”

The changeling made a face and crouched on the floor, out of sight of the gate guards.

“We’ll be at Spark’s in a minute,” Lassiter said. “Sit tight.”

“Like we have any other choice,” Marny said.

Tam held his breath as the car slipped under the gleaming silver arch of The View, but nobody stopped them.

When they reached Spark’s mansion, he quit looking behind them for Security, and helped his mom out of the car. His mind skittered away from the thought of his house consumed in flames. Later. He’d deal with it later.

The bodyguard who opened Spark’s front door didn’t even blink to see them, though Tam knew his mom looked terrible. Not to mention the squat, otherworldly figure of the changeling.

Were such odd visitors commonplace? What kind of life did Spark lead in the outside world? Sometimes he forgot they had an international celebrity in their midst.

“Hi,” Lassiter said. “We’d like to see Spark.”

“I’ll inform Miss Jaxley you’re here,” the man said, then slid a sideways glance at the changeling. “Wait in the great room.”

He gestured down the hall, and Lassiter led the way, obviously comfortable with the layout of The View’s enormous houses. The spacious hallway smelled of flowers, real ones, in a big white cluster on a table by the door. Tam trailed after Lassiter, supporting his mom, who was still in a daze. Did she even understand all this was real?

The great room featured a huge window looking out over the lights of Crestview below. Tam settled his mom in a nearby chair, then studied the night panorama, his eyes drawn to the dark blot of the Exe. It was too far to make out the smoldering remnants of his house.

There was no going back, as long as the drifters were nesting down the street. Not as long as Skeever led them. And who knew if there was anything left worth salvaging.

Marny and Zeg stepped into the room and stood nervously by the doorway, Korrigan between them.

“Take a seat,” Lassiter said to the changeling, pointing to the big couch in the center of the room.

Clearly he wanted Korrigan positioned for maximum effect when Spark walked in. The changeling bared his sharp teeth and hopped onto the plush beige upholstery, looking as unappetizing as a spider crouched on a piece of bread.

Confident footsteps sounded in the hall, and Spark Jaxley appeared at the door. She halted and surveyed her uninvited guests, one eyebrow going up. When her gaze found Korrigan, her other eyebrow rose, twin slashes of magenta surprise.

“Well,” she said. “This is interesting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet’s dad was late getting home, and then HANA hustled them in to dinner before Jennet could broach the topic of sneaking into VirtuMax.

And how would she even begin?

The chandelier over the table shed a perfect light—no shadows for questions to hide in. No easy way to convince Dad he needed to smuggle the beta team into headquarters.

She ate her food, barely tasting the lobster bisque, the perfectly done steak and vegetables. Dad was quiet, too. After the usual questions about how school was going, followed by her usual answers, he stared into space, chewing. His face held an abstracted expression she was used to—the sign he was deeply immersed in thoughts of work.

Finally, when their chef brought out the berry crisp for dessert, she grabbed hold of her courage.

“Dad,” she said. “The team is meeting tonight at Spark’s. We need to go over there.”

He gave her a curious look. “A party? It’s a little early for celebration, don’t you think? The testing isn’t over yet.”

“Um.” She twisted her napkin between her fingers. “Actually, we were hoping you’d let us into VirtuMax. There’s something important we need to do in Feyland.”

“You’ll be beta testing tomorrow. Whatever it is can wait.”

“It can’t!” She took a deep breath. “We have to go in-game tonight.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re asking me to break into my employer’s headquarters so the beta team can play illegally?”

“It’s not breaking in, if you have the keys and codes. And we’re supposed to play.”

“Not unsupervised, after hours.”

“You used to be the program manager.”

“That still doesn’t make it right,” he said. “In fact, you could argue it’s even worse. Think of how that would reflect on me, as if I’m trying to take over, or even sabotage the project.”

She wished—but Dad was too honorable for that. No, the only way to deal with this was from inside the game.

Marie, the house manager, came in to collect their plates. She gave Jennet a sharp look. The woman could sense when trouble was in the air, especially if that trouble had to do with Tam.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Carter?” she asked in her clipped accent. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.” He waved her away.

Jennet set her wrinkled napkin on the table and waited for Marie’s footsteps to fade. What else could she say to convince him? She swallowed, her throat dry.

“Dad. Thomas is in there—in the Realm. You could see him, talk to him.”

He shook his head at her, blue eyes faded and weary. “I don’t know what you think telling me stories like that will accomplish.”

“Come on.” She hated the hint of whine in her voice, but couldn’t erase it. “Find out if I’m telling the truth about Feyland. After everything that’s happened, don’t you wonder, at least a little?”

He didn’t say no right away, and tentative hope flickered, an ember in her chest. She bit her lip on further pleas and promises. There was no guarantee Thomas would be in-game—except that he was bound to the Dark Court as the queen’s bard.

Finally he sighed. “It’s just a game, honey. I’ve played it too. Remember?”

She shouldn’t have brought up Thomas. Dad still hadn’t fully dealt with his death. Frustration flashed through her. If only she could make him understand.

“At least go over to Spark’s with me.”

Somebody had to talk him into taking the next step. Roy had seen the changeling, after all, and Zeg would be there, too. Maybe faced with a united front, her dad would agree to let them into headquarters. Even if he still didn’t believe her.

“Is the team there now?” he asked.

“Yes.” Surely they would be. “If you just talk to Roy about Feyland—”

“Jennet.” He said her name heavily, like a stone dropped into a pool, ripples spreading from the word.

She leaned forward, hands clamped tightly together below the edge of the table.

“What?”

“I’ll go with you to Spark’s,” he said, “but this is the end. No more wild stories about the game. No more…” He swallowed. “No more talk about Thomas. Please. After this, you don’t raise the subject of faeries in Feyland ever again. Agreed?”

He met her gaze, held it. Heart thumping, she stared back at him. They had to get in-game, rescue Tam’s brother, and stop the fey monarchs. Or the faeries would break through into the mortal world, and Dad would find out the hard way she’d been right all along.

“Agreed,” she said.

Win or lose, everything changed. Tonight.

George pulled the grav-car up outside Spark’s mansion. The second he slid the door open, Jennet jumped out. She wasn’t taking the chance that Dad would change his mind and turn the car back around.

The chill night breeze at the edge of the bluff ruffled her hair. Below, the lights of Crestview twinkled as if everything was right with the world—except in the dark smudge of the Exe, where only a few sullen streetlamps glowed. The clouds over the city were lit with orange city-shine. No hint of stars, not even a moon.

Roy’s sporty red car was pulled up in the driveway. Jennet stuck her hands in her pockets, clenching them as though she could squeeze away the nervousness racing through her. At least the rest of the team had arrived.

“I can’t believe you kids are pulling Zeg into this mess,” her dad said, getting out of the car.

“We need a healer. And he believes us.”

Her dad shook his head and strode up to the mansion’s front doors. They opened immediately, and one of Spark’s bodyguards gestured them into the warmly lit foyer.

“The others are down the hall,” the guard said, “waiting for you in the great room.”

Jennet bit her lip and followed the sound of voices spilling from the room ahead.

Tam’s voice cut through the babble of conversation. “Look, as soon as they get here—”

“We’re here,” Jennet said, stepping over the threshold.

The spacious room was fuller than she expected. Tam stood near the door. He touched her arm, his expression tense. Zeg was a couple paces away, and for some reason he had Marny with him. Roy stood by the window, arms crossed, and Spark leaned against the back of a small sofa. Jennet blinked in surprise to see Tam’s mom perched on one of the chairs, looking fragile and confused.

But the biggest surprise of all sat on the plush couch in the center of the room.

“What the hell is that?” Jennet’s dad asked, freezing in the doorway.

The squat creature regarded them from bulbous, milky eyes, then smiled with needle-sharp teeth. It was hideous, and unmistakably not from their world.

“That,” Tam said, “is a changeling from the Unseelie Court in the Realm of Faerie.”

“I…” Jennet’s dad stared at the creature.

“Hard to take in, I know,” Zeg said. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this is one of the strangest.”

“Is it real?” Her dad’s voice shook, the tiniest bit, but Jennet heard it.

The changeling got to his feet, clawed toes gripping the upholstery.

“Shall I conjure up my crawlies, the better to convince you?” he asked in a high, creaky voice.

“No need,” Marny said. “You’re proof enough, Korr. Plus, your bugs are hideous.”

“Can I… touch it?” Jennet’s dad asked.

He held his hand out toward the changeling. Korrigan hissed and swiped his black claws at Jennet’s dad, snagging the sleeve of his jacket. The changeling pulled with uncanny strength and Jennet’s dad stumbled over to face the faerie.

“Close enough, mortal?” Korrigan asked, baring his sharp teeth.

“Let him go,” Marny said.

The changeling narrowed his eyes and disentangled his claws from the cloth. Jennet’s dad hastily stepped back, his face pale.

“All right,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I believe you.”

“Finally,” Tam said.

Jennet’s dad frowned. He stared a moment longer at the changeling, then scrubbed one hand over his face.

“I owe you an apology,” he said to Tam, then turned to Jennet. “To both of you. Honey, I… you have to understand how impossible your stories sounded. I thought you were making up wild excuses.”

Jennet crossed her arms. It wasn’t easy to forgive his blindness.

“This would have been a lot simpler if you’d believed me in the first place,” she said.

“I know.” Regret laced his voice.

“Hey,” Zeg said. “We all make mistakes. The thing is to keep moving forward. Speaking of which, it’s getting late and we have plans to make.”

Despite the delayed anger simmering hotly in Jennet’s stomach, her dad looked so lost and weary that she touched him on the shoulder. He covered her hand with his and gave her a sad smile. She couldn’t quite smile back. They had a lot to talk about—later.

“Zeg’s right,” Spark said. “Everybody, sit down. We need to sort things out.”

Roy snagged a chair and made himself comfortable. “I’m thinking we wait until after midnight to sneak into headquarters, in case anyone’s working late.”

“I’ve asked the cook to throw together some pizzas,” Spark said. “No commando raids on an empty stomach.”

Jennet wasn’t hungry, but she knew Tam was always up for something to eat. She glanced at him, and he caught her hand and pulled her over to sit with him on the sofa. Her dad didn’t say anything. How could he? The reasons he’d banned her from seeing Tam were all untrue. Judging by the shadows in his eyes, he was sorry for it.

“Ok.” Tam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’ve all met Korrigan. He’s the changeling that…” He threw a look at his mother, swallowed, then continued. “That was left in place of my brother.”

“I don’t understand,” Jennet’s dad said.

“Dad, the Dark Court faeries stole Tam’s little brother and are keeping him hostage. Our job tonight is to rescue him.”

“Let me see if I get this,” Zeg said. “The game of Feyland actually leads to fairyland? Which is a real, magical place?”

“Yes,” Tam said.

Zeg pursed his lips, a glint of excitement in his brown eyes. “That’ll be something to see. So, we go in-game, find this Dark Court place, and rescue Tam’s little brother.”

“Except it won’t be that easy,” Roy said.

Spark nodded. “I assume we’re in for an epic battle.”

“Yeah,” Tam said. “Thing is, there are two courts, and apparently they’ve joined forces.”

“I take it this is a bad thing?” Zeg asked.

“Extremely.” Tam sat up straighter. “Which is why we need everyone’s help. Jennet and I can’t defeat the king and queen, not by ourselves.” Roy made a noise, and Tam shot him a look. “Not the three of us either, Roy. You don’t know what the Dark Queen is like.”

“Miss Jaxley,” the metallic voice of the house computer announced, “The cook would like you to know that pizza will be served in the dining room in five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Spark said. She pushed away from the couch. “Come on, everybody. Tam and Jennet can explain about these different courts, and we can plan strategy while we eat.”

Tam made himself stop after eating six slices of pizza. The team was ready to go, everything planned. At least, as planned as they could be when dealing with the treacherous magic of the Dark Court.

Tam hugged his mom’s thin shoulders. She smiled up at him, her expression still half-dreaming.

“Stay here with Marny,” he said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

He hoped.

He didn’t mention Korrigan. Small kindness that his mom didn’t seem to think the changeling was her son. It was hard to tell how much she understood. She seemed to be taking everything in stride, from his missing little brother, to their house blowing up, to the appearance of weird faerie creatures.

He looked over at Marny. “Take care of her.”

“No worries. But Tam, about your house… you know, the apartment behind Uncle Zeg’s has been empty since Grandma Tina passed on.”

“Later.” He chopped his hand through the air. “When we get out of the Realm I’ll deal with it.”

And if they didn’t get out, it definitely wouldn’t matter.

“Ready?” Zeg asked in his calm, rumbling voice.

Spark opened the front door of her mansion and the beta team slipped into the chilly night. Thankfully, it wasn’t spitting sleet, though frost glinted on the pavement and edged the dead grasses of the lawn.

They were walking the few blocks to VirtuMax headquarters. Jennet’s dad and Zeg went first—just two friends out strolling in the winter night. The rest of them would take the long way, and meet up at the back door of VirtuMax in ten minutes.

Tam jammed his hands into the pockets of his battered brown coat, mind racing with contingency plans.

“So we’ll be our avatars when we reach the Dark Court?” Spark asked.

“Yeah,” Lassiter said. “If you enter the Realm using the game, that’s how it works.”

“And if you don’t?” She gave him a curious look.

“Then you’re just yourself,” Jennet said.

Tam could see the memory shadowing her eyes of how the Bright King had taken her in her sleep and transported her to his court. He shivered. He’d been able to use the game interface to go rescue her. Good thing, too—it would have been nearly impossible to defeat the king wearing just the sweats and t-shirt he slept in.

“Headlights,” Lassiter warned. “Looks like Security doing a sweep.”

They’d discussed the possibility, and how to deal with it. Tam drew Jennet close and she snuggled in against his side, while Lassiter laid his arm over Spark’s shoulders. She frowned a little, but it was all part of the plan. Nothing to worry about, just a few Viewer kids heading to Lovebird Lane, away from the all-seeing eyes of the house networks.

The blue and white grav-car slowed, a high-powered beam playing over them. Tam turned his face away. Chances were Security wouldn’t recognize him, but still. Lassiter lifted his hand in a wave, and the light shut off. For once, Tam was grateful the guy was the CEO’s son.

As soon as the car slid away, Spark shrugged out from under Lassiter’s arm.

“Aren’t we almost there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just around the corner.”

They rounded the block. Ahead, the pale, square buildings of VirtuMax headquarters rose from the flat plain of empty parking lots. Lone splotches of light illuminated the lines painted on the pavement. Lassiter led them around back, keeping to the shadows.

When they got to the overhang sheltering the back door, Tam unclenched his cold fingers. Zeg and Mr. Carter were there, waiting. Mr. Carter quickly keyed the door open.

“All in,” he said. “Stay quiet and follow me.”

Zeg had a small handheld light, a blue LED that washed the walls in a ghostly glow. The six of them moved through the dim corridors of VirtuMax, their shoes making hushing sounds and random squeaks on the polished floor. Tam had a sense of where they were headed, but it would have been impossible without Jennet’s dad.

Of course, they weren’t in the clear yet. The long, dangerous night still stretched ahead.

The corridor terminated in a thick steel door with a strip of red lights over it. A keypad blinked on the right. Mr. Carter held up his hand, and the team stopped.

“I’m not sure I have the newest codes,” he whispered. “I get three tries, in three minutes, to open the door. If I fail, alarms will trigger, both here and at Security.”

“Now you tell us,” Lassiter said. “You know, given a day or two, I could have hacked my mom’s account.”

Tam jabbed him in the ribs. “We don’t have two days. My brother’s in serious danger.”

And he didn’t want Jennet’s dad thinking about how easily Lassiter could get into the system.

Mr. Carter flipped open the clear cover on the keypad and entered a complicated series of numbers. Tam held his breath. The lights over the doors stayed red.

Again, Mr. Carter’s fingers flew over the pad. Again, nothing happened.

“One more try,” Zeg said. “Take your time.”

Jennet’s dad shook his head, his face grim. “I don’t have the right codes. Listen, I’ll stay here, say I was coming in late to get some work done. I’ll stall Security as long as I can. The rest of you get back to Spark’s.”

“No, Dad.” Jennet stepped up and laid her hand on his arm. “I know you can do it.”

“We’re wasting time,” Lassiter said. “Try again.”

“I told you, it’s not going to work. They’ve changed the access codes.”

Zeg flashed his light at the old-style watch strapped to wrist. “Better come up with something. The alarm’s going off in less than two minutes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

The beta team stared at one another, faces illuminated by the red lights over the door. Jennet curled her nails into her palms until her skin stung. They couldn’t fail, not now.

“Dad…”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You all need to get out before the alarms go off.”

“Wait,” a high clear voice said. “Do not depart.”

“Puck?” Jennet whirled, searching the shadows.

The sprite stepped forward, his clothing like frayed oak leaves, his hair tangled about his face. She heard her dad suck in his breath.

“Lift me toward the mechanism,” Puck said, gesturing at the keypad.

“Can’t you fly up there?” Lassiter asked.

“Too much iron bounds me on all sides. I must save my magic for what is essential.”

Jennet grasped the sprite and held him up before the lock. He weighed little more than twigs and tatters. The magic of the fey folk tingled against her hands.

“Hurry,” Tam breathed.

Zeg checked his watch again. “Thirty seconds.”

Puck shuddered, a leaf trembling before the wind, then reached one long-fingered hand and gently touched the middle of the keypad. Blue fire ran from his fingers and curled about the keys, shimmering. Jennet held her breath. Please work.

“Fifteen seconds.”

Roy jiggled from foot to foot. The fire sizzling over the lock sparked, then winked out. The lights above the door blinked from red to green, and the click of the latch releasing was loud in the tense silence.

“You did it!” Jennet wanted to hug Puck, but he felt way too fragile.

The sprite grinned at her. “Say not that you doubted me, Fair Jennet.”

Jennet’s dad inspected the keypad. A faint sizzle of smoke wafted from between the keys. “Did you break it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tam said. “We’re in. Let’s go.” He pushed the door open.

“Take care, mortals. Stay brave and true,” Puck said.

“Wait—don’t abandon us.” Jennet’s fingers tightened, but it was like trying to grasp the breeze.

“I shall meet you anon, in the Realm.” A heartbeat later the sprite was gone, leaving nothing but silent air between her hands.

“Puck?” she called. His name echoed in the empty corridor.

Tam grabbed her hand. “He said we’ll see him in there. Come on.”

The team hurried through the testing center, the darkness making the space seem cavernous. Scattered standby lights shone on the equipment—amber, blue, and red pricking the dimness like watching eyes. Jennet squeezed Tam’s hand, glad she had him to hold on to.

When they got to the row of FullD systems, Jennet’s dad went to the wall and slid his hand across a switch. Power hummed, and the sim chairs lit with strips of light, glowing along the sides.

“See you in there,” Tam said, sliding into the closest chair and pulling on his helmet.

Jennet took the next chair, and in moments was ready to go. She hit the command to enter game, then gasped as giddy golden light swirled around her.

The beta version of Feyland was done behaving.

Stomach twisting, she landed in a grassy circle bounded by a faerie ring. Half the mushrooms surrounding her were moon-pale, the other half red, dotted with white. The two sides of the Realm, united.

Tam stood beside her. His silver armor shone strangely, one side lit as if by bright day, the other dusted with midnight shadows. She glanced up to see that the sky above them shared that same disturbing split.

Spark and Roy tumbled into the ring, followed by her dad and Zeg. Roy got to his feet and gave Spark a hand up, while Jennet went over to steady her dad.

“What was that?” he asked, one hand on his stomach.

“The transition into Feyland,” she said.

“The Realm of Faerie, that is,” Tam said. “Congratulations—you’ve just journeyed between the worlds.”

Spark glanced at the white-barked trees enclosing the clearing, their sides lit in turn with fire, with frost. “Is it always like this?”

“No,” Roy said, and Jennet’s dad gave him a curious look.

“This is because the two courts have joined forces,” Tam said.

Magic hung in the air, almost as tangibly as in the Twilight Kingdom. The curling wind bore the distant baying of spectral hounds, mixed with the faint chiming of pixies.

Jennet lifted her mage staff, the blue crystal at the end shedding a faint light oddly similar to Zeg’s LED. She shook her head at the thought.

“Which way?” Zeg asked, pushing back the hood of his grey priest’s robe.

“Here.” Tam leapt from the circle and strode to the moss-lined path leading from the clearing. “Careful of the mushrooms, we might need this circle in order to come back.”

If they came back.

Jennet hurried down the path after Tam. She knew he was burning with impatience to get to his brother, but the team needed to stay together.

At the edge of the grove she caught up with him, and fear fastened in her throat.

They stood at the top of a hill, the Realm spread out before them. Stars shot, flaming, through a midnight sky. Shadows pushed at the noontime sun. Flowers bloomed at their feet, then withered to dust. The land trembled as though it were dying. Or being reborn.

At the bottom of the hill—leagues away yet only a few paces—two pale roads met in an uneven X. A lamp hung from a post at the center, flaring, waning, flaring again. On the far side of the crossroads rose a circle of seven standing stones. The tall menhirs glowed faintly, rough granite suffused with starshine.

Horrible familiarity weakened her knees. Jennet clutched her mage staff for balance.

“Miles Cross,” she whispered.

It was here the Dark Court had brought Tam as a sacrifice to open a gateway to the human world. Here that she had battled for his life against the Dark Queen, and emerged scarred. Her hands ached with the memory of searing fire.

Tam turned to her, his green eyes widening. “This is Miles Cross?”

She nodded. Of course he didn’t recognize the place—it had been night when he was here before, plus he’d been under a fey enchantment.

The rest of the team came up behind them.

“Whoa,” Roy said. “I’ve never seen the Realm look so freaky.”

“Hold hands,” Jennet said. “The way things are fluctuating out there, I think we need to be in physical contact to stay together.”

She vanished her mage staff with a thought, then grabbed Tam’s hand and reached back for her dad’s. She could just imagine half the team disappearing between one step and the next.

“I’ll be on the end,” Tam said.

Of course—he wanted one hand free for his sword.

“I’ll take the other side,” Zeg said.

The beta team stood in a ragged line above the coruscating landscape of the Realm of Faerie.

“On three, we run to the crossroads,” Tam said. “Don’t let go, no matter what.”

Don’t let go. Jennet’s palms burned with memory.

Tam counted, and the team took off. The first few steps weren’t bad, then the grass under their feet bucked like a startled horse. Thick vines snaked out of the ground, tangling their ankles. Zeg and Roy stumbled, and Jennet went down. Tam and her dad hauled her up.

“Keep going,” Tam said.

“Ow!” Spark cried. “Get them away from me.”

Jennet looked over to see a half-dozen golden bees buzzing about Spark’s head.

“Don’t panic,” Zeg said, and looped the line, waving his free hand around Spark’s bright pink head. It didn’t seem to help.

“Sizzle them,” Jennet said.

Spark narrowed her eyes. “Get back, Zeg.”

Flame scorched the air in front of Spark, and dead bees fell, cinder-crisp, to the ground. Jennet looked back to the white-barked grove crowning the hill. The team had come halfway down. Ahead of them, the crossroads shimmered.

“Move,” Tam said.

Jennet’s next step plunged her ankle-deep into a bog. Black muck clung to her foot as she pulled it loose with a sucking sound.

“Nice,” Roy said.

Beside Jennet, her dad foundered to his knees. She tugged at his hand, but he was stuck fast.

“Go on without me,” he said. “I’m not the best fighter, I know that.”

Tam circled around Jennet, still holding her hand, and grasped her dad’s arm. “We need you. And nobody is getting left behind.”

On Jennet’s other side, Spark raised her arm high. Jennet did the same. With Tam’s extra boost, Jennet’s dad pulled free of the dark bog with a hungry squelch. The smell of rotting vegetables filled the air, and she wrinkled her nose against the stench.

“Almost there,” she gasped.

The beta team started forward again. The ground solidified under their feet, the bog and slick grasses disappearing until they ran over a surface smooth as glass. Miles Cross lay a few yards ahead, the lantern at the crossroads shining gold, then black, then gold again.

A fracture formed in the ground between them and the road, hairline at first, but quickly widening.

“Faster!” Tam yelled.

His end of the line reached the crack, now a good three feet across. He and Jennet jumped, her dad and Spark at their heels. Roy landed on his knees at the edge of the now-deep fissure. Zeg leaped, but his foot just missed solid ground. Jennet watched, horrified, as his body tumbled back into the crevasse.

“Zeg!” Jennet tried to yank her hand from Tam’s, straining to get back to where Zeg dangled, his grasp on Roy’s hand slowly slipping.

“Pull.” Tam’s voice was sharp with fear.

“Quick,” Roy said, his face white. “I can’t hold him much longer.”

Tam strained forward, Jennet right behind him. Her dad was a little slower, but Spark pushed against him with her shoulder. Roy cried out as the line stretched, with him as the breaking point.

“Again,” Tam said, and lunged.

Jennet’s arms burned, like they were going to come out of their sockets. How much worse did Roy feel?

With a sudden whoosh the pressure eased and the line staggered forward. Fear clenched her throat. Had they lost Zeg? She couldn’t bear to look.

Roy let out a shout of relief, and she glanced over her shoulder. Zeg stood at the end of the line, massaging his wrist with his free hand.

“Don’t stop now,” Spark said.

She dragged the middle of the line forward, the rest of the team straggling behind her. Three more steps and they stood on the pale roadway of Miles Cross. Above, the sky continued strobing. The circle of standing stones shone white, then black, their shadows reaching hungrily across the road.

The team had made it—just in time.

The road vibrated with the sounds of distant passage, faint now, but moving closer. The cold, bright wind brought the drift of chiming bells, the guttural cries of goblins overlaid with a banshee’s screech, a scattering of harp notes like golden coins spilled into the air.

The faeries were coming.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam let go of Jennet’s hand and flexed his fingers. His muscles coiled with tension. That had been too close—losing Zeg was unthinkable.

He shot a glance at his friend, who projected his usual calm solidity despite nearly falling to his death. Good thing Lassiter had held on, though it must have hurt like hell. Tam caught the other boy’s eye and nodded his thanks.

“Do you hear that?” Spark asked. Her pointed fox ears twitched.

“What?” Jennet asked.

“Sounds like a kid singing.”

Tam strained his ears, trying to pick out what Spark was hearing from the mixed sounds carried on the wind.

“So?” Lassiter rubbed at his left shoulder. “The faeries sound like all kinds of things.”

“A kid singing Crush It? I don’t think so. Unless the faeries listen to top 10 radio in here.”

“My little brother,” Tam said, hope and worry tearing into him. “He loves that song.”

That had to mean the Bug was all right. Didn’t it?

On their left, the ring of standing stones began to glow. Tam dimly remembered those eerie granite monoliths rising above him. In the center lay a rectangular slab and he shivered at the dark stains marring the sides.

“Here they come,” Zeg said, his gaze focused down the road.

Tam and Lassiter moved to the front of the party. Jennet’s dad stepped forward, but she pulled on his arm and drew him back to marginal safety.

“Let the heavy-armor fighters protect us,” she said quietly.

Tam hoped like hell they’d be able to.

The dark shadow of the massed faeries resolved into individual shapes. In the front, a dozen figures in bright armor marched, lances prickling up, helms covering their faces. Behind them, redcap goblins cavorted, their teeth glinting and sharp.

Other creatures, half-animal in form, trailed them, shambling and mincing, growling and squealing. A delicate bevy of maidens followed, their hair like spun moonlight, silver bells edging their gossamer robes.

And behind them, the two fey monarchs rode side by side. The Bright King was mounted on a golden charger, his armor shining brilliant gold. The Dark Queen rode a chestnut horse, her dark skirts spread out like the midnight sky, her face beautiful as an eclipse. At her shoulder rode the Black Knight, on a horse as pitch black as his armor.

Tam drew his sword and settled his shield on his left arm. At his side, Lassiter gripped the pommel of his two-handed sword and raised it at the ready.

“Halt.” The Dark Queen’s voice was hard as ice. “What is this we see before us?”

The ranks of the fey folk parted to let the queen and king ride through. They halted behind the rank of spear-bearers and regarded the six humans blocking the road before them.

The queen tipped back her head and laughed, a sound that could crack bone. The Bright King leaned forward, his gaze going to Jennet, and Tam tightened his grip on his sword.

“Fair Jennet,” the king said. “Do you truly think to oppose us? There is a better way.”

Jennet shook her head, a strand of pale hair brushing her cheek. “I don’t think so.”

“It is not too late,” the king said. “You may still join us. All of you.”

“I claim Bold Tamlin for my court,” the queen said.

“No,” Tam said. “We’re here for my brother.”

“You must find him, first,” the queen said.

“Fine.” Tam took a step toward the faeries, scanning the throng for a glimpse of the Bug.

The queen threw her hand up, and his limbs locked, one foot lifted in mid-step.

“Hey!” Lassiter hefted his sword. “Let him go.”

“You may seek,” the king said, “but we do not give you leave to move from this place.”

Crap. How were they going to find his brother? Panic bubbled high in Tam’s throat, and he forced it back down.

“Bug?” he called. “Can you hear me?”

The queen smiled darkly. “He is forbidden to speak.”

Damn the faeries and their impossible quests. But there was always a solution, if only he could puzzle it out.

“Tam,” Jennet said softly behind him. “He can’t speak… but maybe he can sing.”

Hope pricked him, sharp and bright. Hadn’t Spark thought she heard the Bug earlier?

Tam wasn’t much in the singing department, but he had to try. He drew in a ragged breath and started, his voice unsteady.

“Down, down, tonight it’s all the way.”

Jennet joined him partway through, her clear voice bolstering his. Then Spark took up the song in a husky alto.

“We gonna rock it til the break of day.

No need to rush, rush it.”

That must be Lassiter. He couldn’t carry a tune, but at least he was trying.

“Oh baby, then we crush it,” sang a high, fearless voice from within the bunch of gossamer-clad maidens.

They melted away like frost in sunlight, revealing Tam’s little brother.

Tam’s heart clenched, hard. His foot fell to the ground, and he staggered as his body unfroze.

“Bug?” he said. “You ok?”

“Hi, Tam.” His brother smiled at him. “I’m ready to go home now.”

“That’s the plan.”

The Dark Queen shook her head. “Alas. We have other plans for you, mortals.”

She brought her hand down in a sharp gesture. Quick as thought, the Black Knight slid from his horse and strode through the ranks of bright-armored lance carriers. They followed him, a dozen spears tipped in deadly formation.

“Attack!” the king cried.

The fey folk let out a cacophony of cheers. The Black Knight raised his sword and veered toward Lassiter.

“Take cover,” Tam yelled to his brother, then lifted his shield as the lancers charged.

Wickedly barbed points clanged against the metal. One slipped past the edge of his shield, and Tam batted it away with his sword. A bolt of blue magefire streaked by and hit the nearest lancer square in the chest. The figure stumbled back, but they were still way outnumbered.

Lassiter’s sword rang against the Black Knight’s armor. Without a shield he was at a disadvantage, but so far he seemed to be holding his own.

The lancers charged at Tam again, and this time one of the spears pierced his forearm. Damn, that hurt. He glanced down to see a thin trickle of blood marring his silver armor.

“Heal!” he called.

A green glow settled over his arm, dulling the pain. Just in time, as the lancers surged forward. Jennet sent more mage bolts, but the magic didn’t harm the fey folk, only pushed them back. Spark’s arrows did better. One of the bright-armored figures lay motionless on the ground, a feathered shaft sticking from his helm.

Two of the lancers charged past. He couldn’t let them reach Jennet and Spark. Tam backed up, keeping the rest of the attackers at bay with long, sweeping arcs of his sword.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lassiter spin around from the force of the Black Knight’s blows, and he winced in sympathy.

“Heal!” Lassiter called out.

Zeg’s spells kept them in the fight, but they were struggling already. Not a good sign, when the king and queen hadn’t even joined the battle yet.

A flutter of orange robes signaled Jennet’s dad springing into motion. He leaped at the closer of the approaching lancers and managed a solid strike to the head. One of Spark’s arrows finished the enemy off, but the second lancer reached them. The lancer jabbed his spear into Spark’s shoulder and she cried out, her hand going to the wound. When she pulled her fingers away, they were red with blood.

Jennet blasted the enemy, a second too late.

“Hang on,” Zeg said, hands weaving in the air.

He sent a healing spell toward Spark, but Tam didn’t have time to watch it take effect. The remaining lancers were attacking him hard, jabbing at his legs, his helm, any place they could reach. One thrust his spear between Tam’s feet, and he stumbled.

“Hi-yah!” Jennet’s dad yelled. This time his attack was parried, the sharp point of a spear gouging his arm.

The clash of sword on armor grew insistent. Tam glanced at Lassiter, to see the Black Knight land a fearsome blow to his side. Lassiter’s eyes grew wide, and his sword point wavered, dipped.

“Roy!” Tam cried, struggling to fight to his friend’s side.

Pain pierced through him as the lancers stabbed his arms and legs. Zeg’s heals couldn’t keep up with the amount of damage he was sustaining.

“Advance!” the Dark Queen cried, her voice cracking through the air like lightning.

A tide of redcap goblins swept toward them brandishing knives, their wicked teeth bared. The first wave ran into a sheet of flame, which only enraged the creatures. Shrieking, they clambered over the bodies of fallen lancers.

Tam had nearly reached Roy. In slow motion he saw the Black Knight lift his blade high overhead. Roy brought his two-handed sword up to block the blow. Faster than the eye could follow, the knight reversed his movement. His blade slid between Roy’s ribs, and Roy fell to his knees. His sword tumbled to the ground, streaked with black blood.

“Tam,” Roy gasped, his brown eyes meeting Tam’s horrified gaze. “Sorry.”

Slowly, he crumpled, eyes closing.

“No!” Tam leveled his blade at the Black Knight and threw the force of his anguish behind the blow. Silver pierced black armor, and the knight let out a bellow that shook the sky.

“Dad!” Jennet screamed, high and panicked.

Tam pulled his sword free and whirled to see Mr. Carter go down under a half-dozen goblins. There was no sign of Spark. Zeg cast heals desperately, but the goblins had reached him and were pulling viciously at his robes. He staggered, then fell.

Rage and despair rose through Tam like a bleak tide. He turned and locked eyes with the Dark Queen. She smiled, a merciless blade honed to the cutting edge.

“Take them,” she said.

A lancer brought his weapon down hard on Tam’s head, and the world went dark.

CHAPTER THIRTY - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Bitter cold and blackness. Then a whisper in her ear.

“Fair Jennet.”

It hurt to breathe. She had to remember… had to…

“Lady, awake.” A flutter of sound, moth-quiet. “Stir not.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she wished they hadn’t. She lay in the circle of standing stones, propped up against one of them. Her hands were tied behind her. A golden cord wrapped around her aching chest secured her to the menhir.

In the center of the circle, Tam’s little brother lay bound on the slab of stone. The Dark Queen stood at his head, the Bright King at his feet. Red and blue flames flickered along the edges of the stone.

“Brother,” the queen said. “Our victory is complete.”

The king nodded. “Once we open the gateway to the mortal world, the bargain between us is ended.”

Jennet swallowed, her throat dry and tight. She had to get loose! Where was the rest of the team? Slowly, she slid her gaze to the right. Tam was tied to the stone next to her, and he was awake. Relief shivered down her spine. He met her gaze, and his lips formed a sh. She blinked once—to show she understood the need for silence. They couldn’t act, not yet—though she didn’t know how he could bear it when his little brother lay on the verge of being sacrificed by the faeries.

She looked carefully to her left. Fear clenched her stomach when she made out a huddle of orange robes and pale skin tied to the stone. Her dad. He’d gone down under an attack of redcap goblins.

“Puck?” she whispered, for it had been the sprite who had woken her.

“Aye, lady.” His voice was a bare thread of sound in the shadows behind her.

“Is my dad okay?”

“He still breathes.”

That didn’t sound good. She swallowed back hot tears. They had to do something.

“Can you untie me?”

“I cannot work directly against the courts,” the sprite said.

“Then why bother to wake me at all?” Desperation clawed through her.

“I cannot free you,” Puck said, “but the fox spirit can. Be still.”

Fox spirit? A moment later, Jennet felt a cold nose snuffle her palm. A quick snick of sharp teeth, and the bonds at her wrists fell away. Another snap, and the golden cord holding her to the stone parted, draping across her lap.

Jennet sent a wary look to the center of the ring, where the two monarchs were absorbed in elaborate preparation.

“Can you free Tam?” she whispered.

“Aye.” Motion rustled behind her, then was gone.

Was the whole team here, tied to the tall stones? Moving her head slowly, she scanned the circle. Beyond her dad’s slumped figure—oh, how she wanted to dash to his side—Zeg was bound to the next stone. His eyes met hers, and she swallowed a prayer of thanks. The next two menhirs were empty. Then her gaze snagged on Roy’s body, and fear rose up to choke her.

She had thought her dad looked bad, but Roy… he seemed barely alive. His armor was rent open, a trickle of blood seeping over the once-shining bronze breastplate. His face was the color of ashes. Of death.

In the middle of the circle, the king and queen held their hands up. Light shimmered between their outstretched palms: red fire, purple flames, black radiance.

Jennet looked away, and a flash of russet fur caught her eye. The fox, with Puck astride, darted from Tam’s stone over to Roy’s still form.

But where was Spark? Had she died, her broken body left at the crossroads? No, it couldn’t be. Jennet forced herself to breathe. Her lungs burned, heat searing across her breast.

Wait. Not her lungs. She glanced down to see a milky disc of stone suspended from a silver chain, glowing fiercely on her chest. The Talisman of Shejin!

She looked over at Tam, where the teardrop of his own talisman shone brightly against his silver armor. The rewards from Princess Paloma’s quest. She hadn’t thought much of them at the time, but now… she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall the princess’s words in the Stronghold Castle gardens.

Lends the wearer three times their magical strength, and heals them of mortal wounds.

Her eyes flew open and she locked gazes with Tam. Neither of them bore mortal wounds—but Roy did, and Dad too. To hell with the faeries. She couldn’t wait another moment.

Jennet scrambled to her feet and lunged to where her dad lay slumped against the stone. She tore the talisman from her neck and slipped the silver chain over his head.

“Stop her!” the Dark Queen cried.

“Come on, Dad,” Jennet breathed.

She tucked the glowing disc of white stone under his robes. A moment later, clawed hands dug into her arms as two redcap goblins grabbed her. She glanced over at Tam, who’d taken advantage of the distraction to slip over to Roy. The light of his teardrop talisman dimmed as he dropped it beneath Roy’s sundered breastplate.

This had to work.

“Look to the knight as well,” the Bright King called, his voice deep and resonant.

Two twiggy guards leaped from the shadows. Tam tried to draw his sword, but they caught his arms, pinioning them to his sides.

“Bring them.” The queen gestured to the flat stone. “Three sacrifices will hold thrice the power. Our gate will never be closed.”

Jennet struggled, but the goblins hauled her forward and forced her to her knees beside the stone. Across from her, Tam was pushed to the ground as well. His face was lit by red and blue fire, his mouth set in a determined line she knew too well.

“Tam?” His little brother’s voice was scared, his eyes huge in his dirt-streaked face.

“I’m here, Bug. Hang in there.”

“We must end this,” the king said.

He strode to where Jennet knelt and placed a hand on her hair. His touch burned like liquid fire, and she heard the high, sweet chiming of pixies.

“Aye.” The queen moved to Tam’s side and tangled her pale hand in his brown hair.

He shivered and closed his eyes at her touch.

“Cheehooo!” The cry rang through the dark bright air.

Jennet looked up to see Zeg standing at the head of the flat stone, his teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, his hair standing wild around his head. He slapped his own chest three times, then bent, tore through the cords binding the Bug, and lifted Tam’s brother from the stone.

“Stop!” The queen flung out her hand, a midnight sphere flying from her palm.

Zeg ducked and backed away, but a menacing growl made him halt. Behind him the horned master of the Wild Hunt stood, silhouetted against the stones. Red-eyed hounds milled just outside the circle, sharp teeth gleaming.

“Crap,” Tam muttered.

“Return the boy,” the king said.

In the heartbeat of hesitation before Zeg moved, a blur of red leaped from the darkness. The fox! It fastened its teeth on the goblin holding Jennet’s right arm. Tam leaped to his feet and kicked the other goblin, and she was free.

She stood and held her hands up to the fierce sky. They had one more weapon at their command. She didn’t know why she hadn’t come into Feyland with the blade, but she had to summon it now.

Going on sheer instinct, she concentrated with every cell in her body, opened her mouth, and sang a high, clear note. The breath spun from her, moonlit and full, holding the note, expanding it. The stones around them began to hum, strands of light waking within the dark rock. Something settled in her outstretched palms—something long and silver and ancient.

The Blade of the Elder Fey.

“No,” the queen whispered. For the first time, Jennet saw fear cross her perfect, deadly features. “Do not—”

“Too late.” Jennet pulled the blade free.

It was thin, elegant, and utterly lethal. The moment it cleared the scabbard it began to vibrate, quivering like a wild thing yearning to be unleashed. Jennet wrapped both hands around the pommel, feeling the blade shivering against her bones.

“Fair Jennet, foolish mortal.” The king’s voice was laden with sorrow. “You have spelled our doom.”

“Not yet,” the queen snapped. “Are you a lapdog, that you lie down at the merest hint of their power?” She whirled to the huntsman. “Bring the boy. Now!”

Her voice burned the air with bitter frost. The horned figure strode forward, a head taller than Zeg. He set black-clawed hands on Zeg’s shoulders and pushed him, still holding Tam’s brother, to the center stone.

“Brother, is your weapon at the ready?” the queen hissed.

The king nodded.

Jennet glanced wildly between them, the blade in her hands throbbing with power. She must strike, and now—but which one?

“Jennet,” Tam said, his voice tight. “Take her.”

“Oh no, earthly knight.”

The queen had returned to Tam’s side. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. In her other hand she held a wickedly sharp black dagger, curved like a thorn. Or maybe it was a thorn, from the darkest tree that ever grew.

“Fair Jennet,” the queen said, “harm me, and your champion dies.”

The king moved toward Jennet and she took a step back, raising the blade. It hummed eagerly in her hands.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Then I shall take the boy.”

Quick as light, he snatched Tam’s little brother from Zeg’s arms. In his hand he held a long golden dagger, sharp as a needle.

“Bug!” Tam cried, anguished.

Jennet’s breath caught, jagged in her throat. Blood must be spilled to call the Elder Fey, she knew it with a certainty. But she could not attack either monarch without dire consequences.

She had only a heartbeat to act. Biting down hard on her lip, she took the sword and poised it over one arm. The blade trembled impatiently.

“Jennet, no!” Tam lunged for her, ripping free of the queen’s grasp. Her thorn grazed his neck, leaving a thin red line.

The razor-sharp edge of the Blade of the Elder Fey touched Jennet’s skin, cutting softly, tenderly, to the bone.

A second later pain shocked her senses, so fierce she fell to her knees. Her arm bled like a fountain. Tam snatched the blade from her hand, and she turned her face up to the sky—now twilight, now blazing through her tears—and screamed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Tam whirled, the Blade of the Elder Fey shaking in his grip.

“Save her!” he cried.

He didn’t care who, only that someone had to.

Zeg had his hands up, weaving a glowing healing spell. The queen folded her arms, her gaze glittering like ice. The king held tightly to the Bug’s shoulder, and his brother whimpered in pain.

“Let him go,” Tam said.

“Our plans are in ruin,” the queen said. “Take revenge, brother, ere they arrive.”

The king raised his golden dagger. Tam leveled his blade at the king’s throat.

“Don’t,” he said.

Golden eyes, deep with centuries, regarded him. Unwavering, Tam held his gaze. Harm my brother, and I’ll kill you.

As if reading the thought, the king lifted his hand, and Tam’s brother ran to his side.

“Tam, Tam,” he said, scrubbing tears from his cheeks with a grubby hand. “I knew you’d come.”

“I’m here.”

Still pointing the blade at the king, Tam gathered his brother into a tight hug. He didn’t ever want to let go.

“Jennet?” he said.

He couldn’t bear to look, to see her lying on the grass, her heart’s blood spilled, her blue eyes staring sightless at the sky.

Zeg, face lit with green light, cast another spell. The stones surrounding them crackled and hummed, as if filled with electricity. A cold hot wind blew across the trampled grass.

The standing stones erupted in purple fire.

“They come,” the king said. His voice was weary. “Sister, we shall pay a heavy price for our bargain.”

“And what of our Realm?” She advanced upon him, dark hair whipping about her face. “Would you let us die, deprived of that which sustains us? I would live, brother!”

The air around them dimmed, growing harsh in Tam’s lungs. A deep drum throbbed through the air. No, not a drum. Wingbeats. He tipped his face up to see an enormous black shape descending from the sky.

“A dragon,” the Bug whispered.

It was a fearsome, incredible sight. Behind the black dragon came brighter motes of color—sapphire, ruby, amethyst, so bright Tam had to squint.

The king and queen stood their ground as the Elder Fey approached, but the other fey folk averted their gaze and huddled into whatever small shelter they could find. Still holding tight to his brother, Tam stepped back to where Jennet lay. Her blue dress was crumpled like a torn piece of sky. The deep slash in her arm still bled sluggishly, leaving an ugly smear on the green grass. She looked at him, her face pale as starlight, and tried to smile.

“I love you, Tam,” she said.

“Shh. Save your strength.”

Tears clogged his throat. He set his hand to her cheek, willing his life, his soul into her.

It should have been him. She should have turned the blade on him, not herself. Anyone but herself. Regret burned him to the heart.

“Jen.” Her dad stumbled to her side.

“Quick,” Tam said. “The talisman—take it off and put it on Jennet.”

“I don’t think…” Mr. Carter felt about his neck and chest, but there was no silver chain, no glowing talisman at the ready to save Jennet’s life. It had been used up.

Tam blinked furiously, trying to keep his vision clear.

Hands trembling, Jennet’s dad tore a strip off his orange robes and bound the wound, then tied a tourniquet further up her arm. She winced, but didn’t say anything.

Above them, the sky was dark, bright, black and bejeweled. The dragon’s wings pummeled the air around them.

Roy staggered over, his eyes deep hollows of anxiety. Zeg came and knelt at Jennet’s head.

“I stopped the worst of the bleeding,” he said. “I’ll keep trying.”

Tam nodded, trying not to watch the orange fabric around her arm darkening with blood.

Above them, the black dragon circled ever closer, its immense bulk bathed in eerie purple light. The Dark Queen and Bright King stood their ground, wreathed in the light of icy-blue frost, of golden fire.

Tam looked at the weary team, another dart of loss spearing through him as he counted them up.

“Where’s Spark?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

Puck joined them, his expression sober. He was riding the fox.

“She is here,” the sprite said.

“Where?” Tam glanced around them. No sign of the gamer girl. “We don’t have time for your jokes, Puck.”

“Wait,” Roy said. “She’s the fox, right?”

Of course. Kitsune.

“Stuck…” Jennet’s voice was a mere whisper.

“You’re saying she’s trapped as a fox?”

Jennet blinked in affirmation.

Tam finally let go of his brother. He set the Blade of the Elder Fey on the bloody grass and took the fox’s head between his hands. There was no sign of humanity in those wild amber eyes.

“Spark,” he said. “Spark, you in there?”

The fox wrenched her head away with a low growl.

“Let me,” Roy said.

He scooped the animal up and Puck leaped off with a yelp. Roy cradled the fox in his arms.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “You know I always wanted to hold you like this. How about a kiss?”

He brought his face close to the fox’s and Tam sucked in a breath. Roy was going to lose his nose. The fox bared her teeth, but Roy didn’t let go.

“Just one kiss, all right?”

A flash of light, and it was Spark in his arms.

“No way,” she said. “I oughta slap you.” She made no move to leave his embrace, though.

“Good to have you back,” Roy said.

She glanced up. “Just in time for the big show.”

The black dragon had come to hover above the circle of standing stones. It fixed its golden gaze on the king and queen.

*Monarchs of the fey. You have upset the balance.*

As before, the dragon’s voice was everywhere and nowhere. It scraped the back of Tam’s ears, echoed in his head.

“We had no choice!” The queen stared up, defiant. “Our Realm was shut off from the mortal world. We were dying, dying, while you slept, uncaring.”

*You have no right to meddle between the worlds.*

The sapphire dragon came to hover beside the black, tipping its head as if in speech. Tam felt a buzzing in the back of his skull. Slowly, the black dragon blinked. Its long tongue flicked out, forked like a snake’s, and touched the tip of one of the standing stones.

Purple light hissed and flared.

“You cannot consign our Realm to oblivion,” the king said.

*For your actions, we should. Yet there is truth in what you say. Your Realm is indeed weakened.*

“Then let us re-open a gate to the mortal world.” The Dark Queen’s dress swirled about her like smoke. She pointed to where Tam and the rest of the team huddled. “Look—the sacrifice still awaits.”

The black dragon turned its eerie, alien gaze upon the humans, and Tam held his breath.

*Enough blood has been shed.*

Tam got to his feet, struggling against the gritty air, and looked up at the dragon.

“Jennet is badly wounded,” he said, his voice catching. “Please heal her. I beg you.”

The leader of the Elder Fey regarded him, unblinking. Galaxies swirled in the depths of its eyes. At last it spoke.

*Take the Blade and lay it upon her wound.*

Tam lifted the thin silver blade. It woke in his hand, humming high and clear. Kneeling, he carefully tilted the flat of the blade toward Jennet’s arm. Her dad stripped the bloodied orange cloth away. Deep red gaped, and at the bottom Tam glimpsed the white of bone. He forced his hands steady and pressed the blade against that terrible gash.

“It’s working,” Roy said.

Beneath the blade, Jennet’s muscles were knitting together. Her skin closed, leaving a silver scar bisecting her forearm, and he pulled the blade away.

*Sheathe it, ere it hungers for blood again.*

Already, Tam felt the blade stirring. He glanced around for the silver scabbard. It lay where Jennet had discarded it, beside the flat stone in the center of the ring. Right between the king and queen.

*Quickly*

“Do it,” Jennet said, her voice weak. A hint of color was returning to her face. “That thing is deadly.”

“We got your back,” Roy said, rising and giving Spark a hand up.

Tam walked toward the slab of stone, air scraping his lungs. The Dark Queen watched him approach, her eyes pools of midnight.

“Tamlin,” she said, her voice full of mystery and promises. “There is still time. Become my Knight. It is not the first time a mortal has chosen to serve me.”

She beckoned, and Thomas stepped from the shadows, his guitar slung across his back.

Tam heard Jennet’s dad gasp.

“Bard Thomas, tell our bold knight what he will gain when he joins the Dark Court.”

“My lady.” Thomas sketched her a bow, then turned to Tam. “You will never return to the mortal world again—but the mysteries of the Realm will lie at your feet.”

“No,” Tam said.

It wasn’t a choice he was even interested in. He darted forward, snatched the scabbard, and in one smooth move slid the Blade of the Elder Fey home.

The queen set her hand to his cheek. The tips of her nails pricked his skin. “I will haunt your dreams forever, Bold Tamlin.”

He met her perilous, lovely gaze, and the words dried in his mouth.

Then he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Jennet, her pale hair tangled, a smear of blood on her chin. She had never looked more beautiful.

“You may haunt his dreams,” she said, “but I’ll be the one living in them.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted her black thorn.

“Enough.” The king set a restraining hand on his sister’s arm. “We must each bear a loss this day.”

He looked at Jennet, the echo of the queen’s want clear in his fathomless gaze.

Tam stepped back, bringing Jennet with him. He lifted the sheathed blade.

“I could draw this again,” he said, meaning it. “I bet it would like the taste of faerie blood.”

*Cease.*

Quick as a bolt of azure lightning, the sapphire dragon plunged down and seized the scabbard from Tam’s hand.

*The Blade is no longer needed. Balance is restored.*

“Actually,” Roy said, blinking up at the huge black shape, “I think the mortal world still has a problem.”

“It’s true, sir.” Jennet’s dad cleared his throat and bowed to the dragon. “The faeries have found a way to infiltrate the human world, using a game interface I helped develop. If the human world is to remain safe, that connection needs to be severed.”

He shot a look at Thomas, questions burning in his eyes. The Bard shook his head imperceptibly. The time for answers would come—but not now.

“We must have access to the mortal plane,” the Dark Queen said, her voice sharp. “Else, I implore you to rip a hole in the fabric of our Realm. I prefer a quick death over a slow decay.”

*Indeed?*

The black dragon closed its eyes. A plume of purplish smoke wafted from its nostrils. When it opened its eyes again and gazed down upon the humans, a shiver scraped Tam’s neck. The dragon’s gaze pinned them like the light of an impossible, foreign sun.

*There have oft been those among mortals who have visited the Realm and safely returned. Keepers of knowledge. Bards and mystics who guard the border between your world and the Realm. It is time to anoint a new guard.*

The queen shook her head, her hair like midnight silk. “You cannot—”

*Dark Lady, if you wish your Realm to survive, you will bide. No gate will be opened to the mortal world. Yet it is understood you must have sustenance. This crossing point the mortals have spoken of shall remain open, for a select few. Agree to it, or see your world wither.*

The Bright King nodded his regal head. “You have my agreement.”

Displeasure rolled off the queen in icy waves. The king gripped her arm, and at last she spoke, the words falling from her mouth like bitter stones.

“Very well. It will be as you say.”

The leader of the Elder Fey nodded its massive head, and Tam felt a ripple of deep magic run through the Realm.

*Mortals.* The black dragon’s attention returned to them, burning the air. *You are the new Feyguard. Do you agree to protect the boundary between your world and this one, and aid those who stray too far into the Realm?*

“How?” Spark whispered.

“Through the game,” Jennet said. “I think.”

“What is it saying?” Roy asked. “The Elder Fey want to turn us into some kind of otherworldly border patrol?”

Bard Thomas nodded. “It makes an elegant resolution. The fey folk may interact with the human world, but not unchecked. I believe mortals need magic, as much as the fey folk need mortals.” His wise, weary gaze swept over the beta team. “You are privileged with knowledge given to very few. I can think of no better guardians for the human world.”

Tam didn’t like the solution, but what Thomas said made sense. And he’d realized a while back there was no stopping VirtuMax from releasing Feyland. If the game wasn’t totally safe for people to play, at least it wouldn’t be an open invitation to the fey folk to run wild in the human world.

He hated to admit it, but deep down he didn’t want the Realm of Faerie to wither away. No matter what damage the Dark Queen had done to his life. He flicked his gaze to her impossible beauty, then away before he could get snared in the midnight tangle of her hair.

“Tam?” Jennet said. “What do you think?”

He gathered his attention back to his bedraggled companions. They were looking at him as if he had all the answers. Funny thing was, he almost did.

He addressed the lightless form of the black dragon. “How do we make sure the faeries don’t grab every mortal who plays the game, use their strength, and then we all end up back here with this same scenario?”

*Most mortals will be unaware of the Realm’s existence.*

“How do you know?”

*Do you question the wisdom of the Elder Fey?* The leader let out a sudden, searing breath.

Tam staggered back but didn’t take his gaze from the dragon’s hovering form. “It’s my world we’re talking about. We need some guarantees here.”

*Few are those susceptible to fey magic. Your world will be safe.*

“But—”

“Cease,” Thomas said, stepping forward. “The Elder Fey cannot lie. Nor do they twist the truth, as the fey folk do. Believe them when they say the human world will be safe.”

“Just not those unlucky souls who get sucked into the Realm.”

Jennet touched his elbow. “Remember those old tales. Not everyone who stumbled into a faerie ring or danced under a full moon entered the Realm.”

“Aye,” Thomas said. “The Elder Fey will close the direct path from the game to the Realm. Now, only a handful of people who play Feyland will find themselves in the Realm of Faerie. Your task will be to watch over them. There will not be many.”

*Choose.*

The word rolled over the Realm, moonlight and sunlight, warmth and frost, magic and despair.

Jennet’s touch was warm and steady on his arm. Tam looked at the rest of the team, battered and weary. They had all been changed by this, and there was no going back, no un-knowing that the Realm of Faerie was real.

“Guys?” Tam asked, “what do you think?”

“I’m in,” Roy said, some of his old confidence back in his voice.

Jennet’s dad glanced at Thomas, then nodded, while Zeg inclined his head in a silent yes.

“Completely,” Spark said.

Jennet squeezed his arm. “I’m with you. Always.”

The words warmed him even more than her touch. Tam took a deep breath and tipped his face up to the leader of the Elder Fey, narrowing his eyes against the eerie light.

“All right,” he said. “We agree.”

The black dragon brought its wings together with a thunderclap. Its jewel-bright companions glittered in the air around it as a fierce wind swept the circle of standing stones. The purple light flared, so brightly that Tam threw his arm up to shield his eyes.

His stomach twisted. The light turned gold and he swallowed back the sick sensation of being tumbled out of Feyland.

Tam drew in a ragged breath and lowered his arm, to find himself in his sim-chair at VirtuMax headquarters. A flashlight blared into his face.

“Mr. Linn,” a hard voice said. “Not the first time we’ve caught you breaking and entering. You’re under arrest.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

Jennet collapsed to the ground, the trampled grasses rising up to meet her. Her mind swam with images: black dragons etched in purple light, Tam, his mouth set, agreeing to police the boundaries between their world and the Realm, her dad clasping Thomas’s shoulders and studying his face, disbelief and joy warring in his expression.

She closed her eyes, her senses humming with the aftermath of the Twilight Kingdom’s invasion into the Realm. Maybe it was loss of blood, maybe it was too many clashing magics, but she felt barely connected to her body.

“Jennet?”

She opened her eyes to see Spark leaning over her. Above the brightness of Spark’s magenta hair the stars of the Realm shone crisp and clear, mapping constellations she would never know.

“Can you sit up?” Spark asked.

With her help, Jennet levered herself to sitting. The clearing within the standing stones was quiet; no sign of the bitterly beautiful Dark Queen or the radiant Bright King. Puck sat cross-legged in the air, talking to the Bug. Roy and Zeg stood in the shadows, and near the flat stone her dad and Thomas were in deep conversation. The sight made her heart glow.

“Where’s Tam?” She glanced around the circle, anxiety rising. Had the Dark Queen managed to steal him away?

“That’s weird.” Spark’s eyebrows knitted together. “He was here a second ag—”

The gamer girl’s Kitsune character winked out abruptly.

“Roy!” Jennet called, panic shaking through her. “Zeg, something’s going on.”

Roy looked up, an odd expression crossing his face. Then his avatar disappeared, too.

“It’s okay,” Zeg said, though his dark eyes were worried. “I think they’re being pulled out—”

Empty air filled the space where he had been. Jennet clenched her hands.

“Dad?”

Her voice barely carried through the still air, but he heard it and hurried over with Thomas.

“What is it, honey?”

“Everyone’s disappearing.”

He glanced around, clearly surprised that they, Tam’s brother, and Puck were the only ones in the circle.

“They must have logged out—and we should, too.” He reached and set a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “I miss you, old friend.”

Thomas smiled, his eyes brightening. “You know where to find me.”

Tam’s brother plucked at her sleeve. “I wanna go home!”

“Me, too.” Jennet gathered him into a one-armed hug. “Puck—help us out?”

“Fear not.” The sprite winked. “The youngling and the changeling will switch places—though the Bug is far better company than that sour creature you call Korrigan.” He leaned close, whispering in Jennet’s ear. “The boy is fey-touched. Watch over him well.”

“I will.” She was one of the Feyguard now, after all.

“I bid you farewell, Fair Jennet.” Puck tugged a strand of her hair. “Til we meet again.”

He spun himself into a series of back flips, laughing high and clear. It was the last thing she saw before golden light swirled over her senses. Dizzy, she tried to hold on to Tam’s little brother, but he slipped out of her arms and was gone.

When her head stopped buzzing, Jennet blinked, surrounded by the dimness of the testing center. For some reason, the rest of the team was standing around the doorway. Arguing loudly. She ripped her helmet off and hurried over, her dad right behind her.

In the hallway, two Security guards had Tam by the arms. They waved their flashlights, the beams careening off the walls and ceiling. Jennet’s heart thudded. Why were they taking Tam?

She tried to get to him, but her dad firmly pushed her aside and stepped to the front. He slid the lights on and everyone fell silent, blinking in the sudden glare.

“What’s going on?” Dad asked, his voice full of authority. He turned to the nearest guard. “Why are you interrupting my beta-testing session?”

“Mr. ah…” The guard squinted at the badge clipped to her dad’s shirt. “Mr. Carter. This individual has made unauthorized use—”

“He’s a member of my team. Release him at once.”

“I don’t think so.” Coranne Smith stepped from the next room, her thin lips tightened way past their usual sour expression. “What are you all doing here, Mr. Carter? Sabotage? Is this some kind of revenge against VirtuMax for demoting you?”

Jennet’s dad folded his arms. “Not at all. In fact, the game is working perfectly. We just had a few final issues to take care of.”

“Without me? Has it escaped your attention I’m part of the beta team as well?”

“Yeah but—” Roy began, then stopped when Zeg nudged him in the ribs.

“My apologies for not including you, Coranne,” Jennet’s dad said. “But we’ve done nothing illegal. Unusual, perhaps, but not grounds for arrest.” He nodded to where Tam stood, held by Security. “Let him go. I’d hate to have to counter-sue the company for harassing one of my team members.”

The two guards looked at Coranne. When she said nothing, they released Tam. He quickly slid between Zeg and Roy and put his back to the wall, well out of reach.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Jennet’s dad said. “I appreciate your diligence. As you can see, we’re working overtime on a crucial project. You may go.”

The older guard studied the team members for a moment, then nodded. “All right. You folks have a good evening.”

He swept the beam of his light over them, an intimidating move which was a lot less effective with the lights on, then headed down the hall with his partner. Their shoes squeaked faintly on the polished floor.

Coranne Smith narrowed her eyes, pinning Jennet’s dad with her gaze. “This isn’t over, Mr. Carter. If there is anything compromised in the game, I will have you fired immediately.”

Roy opened his mouth again, probably to say something about his mom being the CEO. This time, Tam elbowed him.

Jennet’s dad smiled with no warmth. “Then I anticipate we’ll be working together for years to come.”

“We’ll see about that,” Coranne said. “You’re not the only one who can make use of the equipment late at night. Tomorrow there will be a reckoning, Mr. Carter. You may be certain of it.”

She stalked forward, and the team parted to make way as she headed for the testing hub. Jennet’s dad watched her go, his expression grim.

“I…” Jennet rubbed her palm. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Let’s go.” His voice was suddenly tired. “Spark, I know it’s late, but can we debrief at your place?”

“No problem.” The gamer girl quirked her lips into a wry smile. “I keep odd hours—my people won’t think anything of it.”

What kind of life did Spark lead, as a celebrity simmer? The slice of it Jennet had seen seemed tame—but then again, Crestview wasn’t the hotbed of anything much.

Unless getting sucked into alternate worlds counted, in which case it was action central.

The team trailed down the hall, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Coranne can’t do anything to us, can she?” Jennet asked.

“Over what—beta testing like we’re supposed to?” Roy shook his head. “Don’t worry, none of us will get in trouble. Not even your dad.”

He was probably right—he’d shown he could sweet-talk his mom into just about anything. She let out a low breath. After tonight, she didn’t care what happened with the beta testing. The hardest work was done.

When the team stepped into the chilly night, she grabbed Tam’s hand. After all, her dad had no more arguments for keeping them apart.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning into the warmth of Tam’s body.

“Maybe.” His eyes were shadowed. “Getting yanked out of game by Security was not my favorite experience.”

“The team wouldn’t have let them take you.”

“I know.” His expression remained grim, and she knew what was really worrying him.

“Tam—Puck told me your brother would be returned safely.”

“He better be.”

Without saying anything, she picked up the pace. The rest of the team hurried too, their breaths misting out in white plumes as they passed beneath the orange splotch of a streetlight.

“Tam… Puck did say your brother was fey-touched now.”

Tam closed his eyes briefly, and she saw the burdens he carried etched on his face. His brother. His mother. Life in the Exe.

When he looked at her again, his eyes were bleak.

“I didn’t tell you before,” he said. “But my house is gone.”

“What?” She blinked at him. “What do you mean, gone? Did Korrigan somehow destroy it?”

“No. The drifters down the street attacked us. The place is toast now.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Literally. They fire-bombed it.”

“Oh god. That’s terrible.”

Her mind raced, grabbing possibilities, then discarding them. Even if she could get her dad to offer Tam’s family a place in the View, Tam was way too proud to accept what he’d perceive as charity. But maybe, for the short-term, they could work something out.

“Our place is pretty big,” she said. “I’ll ask my dad—”

“No.”

The outright refusal stung. “Why not? You need someplace to go.”

“Jennet.” He clasped her hand tightly. “Your dad had his view of reality totally wrecked tonight. He’s going to have to accept a lot—and having my crazy family staying in his house is not one of them. I’ll work something out.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the streets.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I know.”

“Hey,” Zeg said, drifting over. “About your house, Tam… you could stay in the apartment I built for Auntie Tina. It’s been empty a few months now, and needs some tending.”

“I thought that was for your family,” Tam said.

Zeg put one big, warm hand on Jennet’s shoulder, the other on Tam’s. “After tonight, we’re all family.”

“Say yes,” Jennet urged. “Just for a little while.”

Tam shook his hair out of his eyes. “If my mom says yes, then ok. Temporarily. Until we can get our place fixed up again.”

Under the glow of the streetlights, Jennet caught Zeg’s eye. She could tell they were both thinking the same thing—no way were they letting Tam and his family move back into the Exe.

“Heh,” Roy said, clearly catching the last bit of their conversation. “Guess I can’t call you Exie any more.”

Tam shrugged, though his mouth curled up at the corner. “Too bad you’re still stuck as a Viewer.”

“Don’t get too smug,” Roy said. “I expect you’ll be spending a lot of time up here. Watch out, it might rub off on you.”

He nudged Jennet, and she batted his elbow away.

Jennet’s dad caught up to them. “The beta testing isn’t quite done—though I expect the rest to be uneventful.”

“Let’s hope,” Spark said, her breath misting out in a white plume.

“VirtuMax will be offering some internships this summer.” Jennet’s dad cleared his throat. “Any of you who are interested, consider yourself hired.”

Spark tipped her head. “Let me check my schedule.”

“Count me in,” Roy said, his eyes on the gamer girl.

“Thanks,” Zeg said, “but I’m pretty busy with the sim-café. Though I’d be up for gaming with the team, now and then.”

None of them mentioned what it meant to be the Feyguard, but the knowledge hung in the winter air around them, crystalline and cold.

“What about you, Tam?” Jennet’s dad asked.

Jennet squeezed his hand, knowing what his answer would be. Frost twinkled on the lawns like bits of scattered stars, and ahead, the lights of Spark’s mansion blazed into the night.

“Maybe,” Tam said, squeezing back. “Maybe I will.”

As soon as the door to Spark’s place opened, Tam was inside.

“Bug?” he called, his voice echoing in the huge foyer.

“Tam!”

Footsteps slapped the marble floor. He glimpsed Marny in the hall, smiling widely, and then his little brother launched himself at Tam in a blur of grimy clothes and popsicle-breath. Tam caught him and buried his face in the Bug’s hair, inhaling the familiar, beloved smell of sticky eight-year-old. Tears lodged in his throat, and he closed his eyes tight.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and without looking he pulled his mom into the embrace.

His family might not have any place permanent to call home, but they were here. Together.

“Let’s head to the great room,” Spark said. “I’ll have the cook bring us tea and desserts.”

The rest of the team voiced their agreement, and Tam heard them moving away. All but Jennet. He knew when he opened his eyes she’d be there, smiling at him.

And she was.

EPILOGUE

“Lines around the block at hundreds of retailers across the country prove that VirtuMax’s latest is on everyone’s must-have list.” The sleekly jacketed newscaster smiled while the camera panned the long line of people waiting in front of the game store. “Some of these eager buyers have been camping out for days, determined to be among the first to grab one of the long-awaited FullD systems.”

The door of the featured store opened, sunlight reflecting in a blinding arc from the glass, and the crowd let out a cheer.

Release day. The FullD system was for sale across the globe—and Feyland with it.

Jennet shivered and clicked off the vid feed.

“Now what?” She turned to Tam, sitting on the couch beside her in the game room.

“First, this.”

He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, tingles racing like scattered stars through her body. He tasted of coffee and warmth and home—the heart-deep place she’d always yearned to belong.

No fey magic could ever match the rightness, the sweetness of their kisses. But they had work to do. Reluctantly, she untwined her arms.

“Did you know that Spark gave Roy her messager number?” she asked.

“Her real one?” Tam’s brows went up. “I guess all of us need to stay in touch.”

“Yeah, but I think Roy has a particular kind of touch in mind.”

Tam laughed. “I wish him luck with that.”

Then he sobered and glanced at the FullD systems humming in the center of the room. Jennet rubbed her thumb over her left palm and took a deep breath. Whatever they faced, they’d be all right.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yes.” Tam stood and pulled her off the plush couch. “Time to gear up. We’ve got a world to guard.”

THE END

Ready for more adventures of the FEYGUARD? SPARK is now available!

Superstar gamer Spark Jaxley's life might look easy, but she's part of an elite few who guard a shocking secret; the Realm of Faerie exists, and its dark magic is desperate for a foothold in the mortal world.

Aran Cole hacks code and sells his gaming cheats on the black market. It's barely a living, and one he's not proud of. But when he turns his skills to unlocking the secrets behind Feyland--the most exciting and immersive game on the market--he discovers power and magic beyond his wildest dreams.

Spark's mission is clear; pull Aran from the clutches of the fey folk and restore the balance between the worlds. But can she risk her life for someone who refuses to be rescued?

~ Next up, ROYAL: FEYGUARD BOOK2 ~ Coming July 2014

Not ready to leave Feyland yet? Check out the prequel short story, FEYLAND: THE FIRST ADVENTURE

And a mini adventure short story, TRINKET, is now available as well ~ High-tech gaming and ancient magic collide when a computer game opens a gateway to the treacherous Realm of Faerie ~

Violet Yamaguchi can't wait to play the immersive new computer game, Feyland--but she doesn't suspect the game wants something in return... A short story of approximately 5,000 words (20 pages)

Don’t miss out on upcoming books! Join Anthea’s new release mailing list for notice of her new books and special reader perks - http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp

The Feyland books:

Prequel story ~ FEYLAND: THE FIRST ADVENTURE ~

Book 1 ~ FEYLAND: THE DARK REALM ~

Book 2 ~ FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT ~

Book 3 ~ FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM ~

Short Story ~ TRINKET: A FEYLAND TALE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS for THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM:

Thank you to the many people who made this book better: the invaluable feedback of my terrific CP, Peggy, fabulous proof and beta-readers Sean (aka Captain Grammar Pants), Chassily, Theresa McHarney, Carol Piening, and Brynn. Thanks to Arran at Editing720 for quick, professional, and stellar work. Extra-big hugs to my in-house editor, Lawson, and keen-eyed proofreader Ginger.

And thanks in advance to Dom, who, despite my best efforts, always manages to find a couple typos and formatting issues in the print copy. (Look, you got your own paragraph.)

For an absolutely gorgeous cover (again!) huge thanks to Kim Killion at Hot Damn Designs. And for the inspiration to move forward, ongoing gratitude to all the indie and self-publishing advocates out there.

I’d also like to thank the wonderful book bloggers who provided reviews and helped this series find readers: Rebecca McKinnon of The Crooked Word, Mandy the Romance Bookie, Stephanie Asbridge of Reviewing What I’m Reading, Jen Rabey of What’s on the Bookshelf (and for being a cool gamer girl), Krista of Breathe in Books, and John of Dreaming in Books. Thank you all!

I also greatly appreciate the readers who have taken the time to contact me, leave reviews, and give me reasons to keep writing. This series wouldn’t be here without you.

Resources used include: Katharine M. Briggs, An encyclopedia of fairies: Hobgoblins, brownies, bogies, and other supernatural creatures: and Faeries by Froud, Larkin, and Lee.

The song Jennet uses to wake the Elder Fey is Gartan Mother’s Lullaby, an old Irish melody from Donegal, set to words attributed to Seosamh Mac Cathmhaoil, circa 1904. The song references figures in Celtic mythology, places in Ireland, and words in the Irish language.

Jennet also sings the first verse of the traditional ballad The Water is Wide.

Crush It is entirely of the author’s devising.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Growing up, Anthea Sharp spent most of her summers raiding the library shelves and reading, especially fantasy. She now makes her home in the Pacific Northwest, where she writes, plays the fiddle, and spends time with her small-but-good family. Contact her at antheasharp@hotmail.com or visit her website – www.antheasharp.com. Subscribe to her newsletter for upcoming releases and fun info! http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp

Anthea also writes historical romance under the pen name Anthea Lawson. Find out about her acclaimed Victorian romantic adventures at www.anthealawson.com

THANK YOU for reading the FEYLAND trilogy!

If you enjoyed it, please consider helping other readers find this book:

1. Share it ~ Lend it to a friend who you think might like it.

2. Spread the word ~Leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other site of your choice. Even a line or two makes a difference, and is greatly appreciated!

3. Stay connected ~ Sign up for Anthea’s quarterly newsletter, Sharp Tales, at http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp. Visit her website at antheasharp.com, and come friend her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/AntheaSharp.

BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

BACK TO TOP OF THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM