Whatever I might have expected would happen when I returned to the fortress, it isn't what we walked into.

It started with faerie lamps in the trees. They began to appear irregularly, but soon bobbed through the canopy like a constellation come to the earth. The rough forest trails I led my group through became a wide, flat road with stone and packed dirt instead of tangled undergrowth.

We entered an expansive clearing, and at the far side stood a mighty drawbridge and an invitingly open gate. Above that gate rose a castle.

"I thought you said this was a ruin?" Emma asked me, her usual unimpressed manner gone now as she stared wide-eyed at the scene before us. The other three wore similar looks of awe.

In the space of a day, the palace of Edvard Agrion had been restored. Stone towers rose high above the forest, spires illuminated by witchlight. Wil-O's Wisps and ghostly shapes flitted across the scene. Even the shadows seemed a living, liquid thing, and the light was irregular, so parts of the palace seemed to float disconnected from the whole.

The forest also still grew into and over the castle, trees winding their way up towers and supporting bridges, so the citadel seemed a natural part of the land, like something raised up by seeds and shaped as a garden is shaped.

I took a deep breath and blinked, making an effort of will to focus my attention forward and off the whole of the palace. It was a dream. A living dream, woven by the Elf Queen, and that made it dangerous.

"It seems Her Majesty wants to impress us. Remember your training. Stick close to me, don't eat anything they offer you, and accept no gifts. A lot of this place isn't going to be true, but that doesn't mean it isn't real."

"What kind of sense does that make?" Penric asked, his mouth still hanging agape at the sight.

"Trust nothing, is all I mean, and keep your wits about you. We're now guests of the Sidhe."

Penric muttered something and made a sign with his fingers, a warding gesture. My own precaution was less obvious but similar in spirit, as I concentrated inward and made small adjustments to my aura, reinforcing my spiritual defenses and expanding them to cover the group. Hendry shivered in response and threw me a nervous look, but the others were too preoccupied to notice.

We crossed the drawbridge — there were multiple trolls beneath it, but they didn't demand payment — and moved into the bailey. Here a single elf greeted us, this one so ancient I could feel his spirit burning off him like heat off a fire. I also knew him.

"Oradyn," I said after I'd dismounted. "I was wondering if I'd see you here."

Oradyn Fen Harus resembled a tall man with a deer's face and silver hair. His eyes were round and glassy black, just like the animal he resembled. He dipped into a bow and said, "You knew who I served back in Garihelm, Lord Headsman, did you not?"

"I knew," I said in a dispassionate voice. "It's a shame you didn't stay for the end of the tournament, Fen. Things got interesting."

I didn't bother hiding the note of accusation in my voice. Though part of me insisted it was best to play nice here, I didn't want Maerlys's followers to forget that I knew what they were responsible for.

"I was then, as I am now, my queen's servant." he blinked his animal eyes at me. "You understand, do you not? They once called you Rosanna's Sword."

I broke eye contact first. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Oradyns were like knight-captains for the elves, acting as powerful champions and chieftains subordinate to their monarchs. Fen Harus had been his lady's ambassador in Garihelm during the summit the past year, and — though I hadn't known it then — Jocelyn's handler. He shared as much blame as the wyrmblighted mercenary in what happened, probably more.

He'd also helped me, and without his advice and intervention me and my companions would probably all be dead. He'd also been the one to subdue Jocelyn in the end, with some kind of spell that put his dragon to rest. The only thing I still doubted was whether he'd also awakened the wyrm.

Fen Harus might have sensed my inner turmoil, but he made no mention of it. He gestured to the far side of the courtyard, where a stair led into the main fort. "My queen awaits you and your companions. Your mounts can wait here."

"Will they be eaten?" Emma asked dryly.

The elf chuckled. "No. You have my word on that. We do not intend to keep you here, mortals. It is Her Majesty's hope that you find this audience fruitful, and depart quickly to conduct business that benefits us all."

Fancy way of saying we don't want you here longer than you need to be. Fair enough. I nodded to the others and we passed our mounts off to some elven grooms, these all appearing as the classical kind with mostly human features and pointed ears. Fen Harus then led us into the castle, where the interior turned out to be just as impressive. We entered a great foyer that could double as a ball room, with crystal chandeliers glimmering above our heads and proud stairways spiraling into the palace's depths.

It was an impossible space, and I doubted Edvard Agrion to be responsible for the current state of his castle. The spiral stairs went both up and down into what seemed great heights and bottomless wells, and the placement of the walls made very little sense. It was like standing on a huge bridge on a cloudless night. Trees grew even indoors, framing the architecture.

"It's beautiful," Lisette said quietly. Fen Harus smiled.

"The Queen wove much of it herself," he told us as he clopped along. "She's been adding to it for years, iterating on the design whenever we find a new refuge. If we move on from this place, she will tear most of it up and start again next time, with new inspiration. One day, the hope is to have a hall as grand as her father's."

"Outdoing Tuvon's Hall will be a tough order," I noted.

"I never said she intended to outdo it," Fen Harus corrected me. "The Archon built a city to the glory of our people, while Queen Maerlys intends to have a court from whence to rule a new age. It requires a different approach. A more martial one, in some ways. This is an era of war, after all."

I noted there were guards. Ogres, these of a fae disposition, all huge brutes who wore little armor but possessed hides tough as bark. They watched us as we passed between them with wolfish eyes. Cant Spiders crawled along the pillars and chandeliers, weaving webs into the palace's decor.

There were other creatures too, including shapeless things of fog and light who flitted from shadow to shadow or stood in eerily silent congregations, whispering to each other in pantomime as they watched us.

"Ghosts?" Penric asked quietly, his voice tense.

"Wraiths," I corrected. "Elves are functionally immortal, but when they lose their bodies they leave spirits behind in a similar way as us. They're sturdier than ghosts, so they tend to stick around and don't need sheols like the Underworld. Some end up wandering the wilds, but others attach themselves to faerie castles like this one, act as advisors to their nobles."

"Huh." Penric scratched at the gray stubble on his cheek near where Lisette's stitches kept his skull intact. He looked more nervous than usual.

The entry hall seemed to go on for a mile, but eventually we came to a stair where Tzanith, the Elf Queen's handmaiden, waited for us. She'd changed from her spidersilk dress into a more elaborate gown of such a deep blue it was nearly black. Her dragonfly wings trailed behind her like a cloak in shades of cerulean and violet, and wisps danced around her like schools of fish. Her single braid was replaced by a mane of black ringlets tumbling down her shoulders and back.

"My oh my," Emma murmured appreciatively as we approached the elf. "She's a pretty thing. Is that the queen?"

The she-elf certainly looked like one, resplendent halfway up the stairs with her wings folded like a cloak and her gown shimmering like a sliver of midnight sky.

"Her handmaiden," I muttered back. "And the chief of a wyldefae tribe. She also has good hearing."

Tzanith, still some dozens of steps away, smirked. Emma coughed.

"Should we be worried?" Hendry asked me in a similarly low voice. "This place is crawling with…"

"Monsters?" I asked him when he hesitated to finish the sentence.

The young man gave me a chagrined look. "It just feels oppressive, is all. It's all incredible, but it also makes my neck itch."

"A lot of the inhabitants of this castle probably do want to eat you," I agreed. "Some of them might want to bed you first, so don't go chasing nymphs. That goes for you too, squire."

Emma just sniffed.

"It kind of reminds me of Laertes's mansion," Hendry added in a subdued tone.

He wasn't wrong. "Keep that in mind," I told him. "It will keep you alive."

We reached the bottom of the stair where the handmaiden waited for us, and here I brought my group to a stop. Tzanith curtsied deeply, her wings fluttering out with the motion in a display of inhuman grace as she spoke with elegant formality. "Thou art welcome to my queen's hall, mortals. We offer thee what comforts we may, and vow to bring no violence upon thee. Come as you wish, go when you please, and leave some of the happiness you bring."

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I bowed and murmured, "We shall offer no violence that is not invited, shall give your lady all due courtesy, and will leave before our presence becomes burdensome."

The ritual complete, Tzanith rose at the same time I did and offered her hand. I approached and took it, allowing her to lace her arm through the crook of my elbow as we moved into the next hall.

"Was your empress very angry?" She asked me in a voice pitched low for privacy as we drew ahead of the rest of the group.

"That's an understatement," I admitted. "She wants reparations for the retainers she lost."

"That is not unreasonable. Was it her suggestion, or yours?"

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"You are not her direct vassal, or so I understand." Tzanith pressed against my right side, so the eye she turned to me was her left, the darker one. "Can you speak on her behalf in this?"

She had a point. Rosanna never explicitly gave me leave to act as her ambassador. "She agreed to that much, at least, and she'll listen to my advice. Consider my words her own."

Fen Harus drew up close to us, his hooves and cane forming an arrhythmic sound as he kept pace. "The Empress often took Lord Hewer's council during my tenure in the northern capital." He told the other elf. "His word is trustworthy where she is concerned."

Tzanith hummed in thought. "My queen may be willing to indulge such a request, in the interest of peace. In truth, it is her hope that this unpleasantness might become a fruitful opportunity for both parties."

"I'm sure she does hope that," I muttered back. "Right now, she's down a hostage and up a lot of very angry Karledalers."

Tzanith pouted, but didn't argue back. Elves of all shapes and sizes watched us as we moved down a long hall. The castle's spaces seemed to stretch and shrink without warning, giving the whole thing a surreal sense of scale. In some cases, it was hard to pick apart the Elf Queen's courtiers from the architecture, which gave the whole thing the quality of a hive.

Tzanith eventually stopped at a side passage that led into what looked like a dining hall, with a table set for feast. "Your companions may wait here," she told me. "We encourage them to take their ease and reinforce themselves. All the food and drink is mortal, and thus safe. No tricks, you have my word."

I tensed. "You can't expect me to leave them alone in this place, not after—"

"They won't be alone," she assured me before I could work myself up. "I will remain with them and ensure my kin do not indulge themselves."

She looked directly into my face, her expression more serious than usual. "Do you not trust me, my lord?"

I met that stare levelly. "I barely know you, Lady Tzanith."

She smirked in reply and said, "Then trust that I am still determined to accomplish my queen's will, which will be difficult if you are given reason to be irate with me. I shall take your fellowship under my personal care."

I considered a moment. It was risky, but I probably should have expected that Maerlys would want a private audience, considering what we intended to discuss.

"You will take personal responsibility should anything happen to them?" I asked. "I will hold both you and the Queen accountable for any mischief."

"You may take your anger out on me, should that please you." She disentangled from me then and moved to the door, beckoning for the lance to follow. "This way, mortals. We have food, wine, and music."

They all threw me dubious glances. I nodded for them to follow the pixie. "It should be safe, as long as it's mortal food. You'll know the difference, trust me."

As they filed through the door, Emma paused for a quick word. "What happened to not chasing nymphs? I saw all of that."

"It's complicated," I told her. "And political. Nothing is happening."

"Hmph." She didn't look convinced, but followed the others. Fen Harus lingered in the hall.

"I will take you the rest of the way," he told me.

I nodded and followed the ambassador deeper into the castle. While my companions feasted and enjoyed the entertainments of our immortal hosts, I had business with an elven queen.

I let Fen Harus pull a ways ahead and spoke under my breath, hoping it was quiet enough even elven ears couldn't pick it up.

"Do you think I'm walking into a trap?"

Vicar's reply came without pause, equally quiet through the inanimate jaws resting near my left ear. "Most certainly, but the question is for whom, and whether it will spring tonight or next century."

The oradyn brought me into the depths of the faerie castle, and I started to recognize some of the same paths I'd taken the previous night. We went down, into the same winding garden where I'd spoken to Ser Jocelyn.

"She waits for you within," Fen Harus told me as he stopped at a break in the hedges.

My guard up, I walked into the glade. It was all familiar despite the transformation the rest of the fortress had undergone, this section still overgrown and dim. I saw the fountain, same as before, and the ghostly lanterns bobbing up above.

Jocelyn lay on his side along a root large enough to act as a bed. He was deep asleep, his head pillowed on his hands, his lips parted as he took steady, quiet breaths.

I walked forward until I drew near the fountain, and there stopped. There was a pressure in the air. The glade felt too warm compared to the rest of the castle, and there seemed to be a shadow around the sleeping knight. It wasn't shaped right, not like a human's. Along with Jocelyn's exhalations, I heard something else softly breathing with much stronger lungs.

"He will not wake," a voice said. "Not unless I wish him to."

I turned and saw a shape detach itself from the shadows between two gnarled trees. Even stepping into the light, Maerlys looked like a shadow. She remained in her burnt form, appearing as a dark smudge on the grass in the shape of a woman.

I realized something else after a moment, and I averted my gaze. She chuckled in her dry voice.

"Do I disgust you so, Ser Knight?"

She was naked. I hadn't realized at first, because her wounds were so extensive they obscured most details. "You just surprised me."

She stepped on bare feet over the grass until she stood on the other side of the fountain. Her false eyes glinted in the glade's irregular lighting. "I am not ashamed of my wounds, mortal. Only frustrated by them."

It hadn't been as obvious earlier, when she'd layered herself in so much glamour, but I realized she wasn't actually talking. Her charred lips moved, showing flashes of white teeth, but the sounds originated from seemingly random directions.

She spoke with her aura, projecting her words into the very air since her tongueless mouth could not form them naturally. An advanced trick, even for one of the Sidhe.

"I didn't expect to have this meeting inside your dragon's den," I said. "Is he insurance, in case I get feisty? Or did you bring me down here to kill me?"

Her voice was thoughtful. "Who do you think that boy is to me, Ser Headsman?"

I frowned at the question. In truth, I hadn't thought much on Jocelyn's past. I knew he was a True Knight, a mercenary, and wyrmblighted. Those were all interesting facts, but didn't give me much of an idea about the actual person.

I glanced at the elf's nudity. Were they lovers?

Her teeth flashed in a silent scoff, as though she'd heard the thought. "I shall ask another question, and forgive me if it does not seem grafted to the first. What do you know of dragons?"

She seemed to have dropped her archaic speech from earlier. I looked from her and back to the sleeping man as I thought. This wasn't the topic of discussion I'd expected, but I decided there was no harm indulging the question.

What did I know of dragons?

"I know there's only ever one in the world at a time. Or that's what all the stories say."

"Why?" Maerlys asked. She hadn't taken her eyes off the sleeping knight.

"I… I don't goring know. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because you believe that I am responsible for all the people Jocelyn of Ekarleon has killed." She turned to look at me. "Perhaps I am at fault, though not for the reasons you think."

This didn't seem like one of her tactical deflections. So I considered what I did know, went over all the facts. After a moment's thought, I started speaking some of them aloud.

"Jocelyn and Fen Harus were in Garihelm together for the summit. Fen as your ambassador, Jocelyn as your champion, though you didn't make the latter fact public. You wanted him to win the tournament, because you knew Markham was using it as a cover to create a weapon. A new Soul Art."

The Grand Tourney of Garihelm brought together hundreds of competitors, many of them powerful adepts with strong aura and famous magical techniques. By having them clash in the Coloss, the city's great arena, all those souls melded like different metals mixing inside a crucible.

At the end, the intention was that a new Auratic Art would be born from the competition, a reward to the champion and a powerful weapon for the conflicts the Emperor expected his confederation to face.

Perhaps even a weapon that might challenge the fallen angel in Seydis.

"Perhaps you didn't need him to win," I added after a moment's thought. "The tournament never finished. Jocelyn turned into that thing and it did something… Like it ate all the power that was gathered up."

Maerlys nodded. "Dragons eat aura, yes. It is one of their many qualities, perhaps amongst the most dangerous besides their virulence."

"So you admit to all of it?" I asked harshly.

She met my glare with a steady look. "I commanded Ser Jocelyn to go to that city, to swear his service to the human emperor, and to attain victory in your war games. He wanted to go, to serve his people, to be of service. He is a True Knight, a paladin whose vows drive him and empower his spirit beyond his mortal ken. He is one of his own making… and mine… rather than of my father's design."

It was hard to tell her mood with her ruined face, but the look she threw the sleeping knight almost seemed fond. "He battled fiercely against his curse, and in doing so awakened a power within himself that few of your kind ever obtain. Alas, the wyrm is strong and malevolent, and a kind heart is often its plaything."

"You expect me to believe you didn't know what would happen?" I asked.

"I suspected that something might happen, mortal." She approached the sleeping man then and leaned over him, brushing his hair back from his face with skeletal fingers.

I noted how much of her skin seemed to glisten with lines of oil, and some of her worst wounds bled sickly fluids from infection. I recalled how the rich gown she wore the previous night had been fouled from touching her skin, and realized her nudity might not just be a statement of acceptance, but also of practicality.

Stop, I told myself as I felt a pang go through me. Don't feel bad for her, not after what she did.

Yet, it wasn't easy. I couldn't imagine the strength of will that kept her from screaming in endless agony.

"It was Lord Fen Harus's task to watch the boy," she continued as she laid her fingers on Jocelyn's shoulder. "And to subdue him should he lose control, if needed."

"If all of that is true…" I walked forward until I stood only a few feet from the pair. "Then why not warn any of us? Why have your servant steal him during a crisis and make off in the night like a thief?"

"Because you would have killed him," she said calmly without turning to look at me. "Do you deny it?"

"…Wyrmblight is dangerous. I don't know much about dragons, I'll admit, but I know that much. The last one destroyed entire kingdoms before it was subdued. Ekarleon, Ghoswood, and nearly a third of Lindenroad are all graveyards now."

Ekarleon. Just like in Jocelyn's full name. I frowned at that thought.

"As it is whenever a dragon wakens into the world," Maerlys agreed. "They are a blight, Alken Hewer, and have been for millennia. It has been sixty-three years since the Lindenwurm ravaged your coastlands, and still those regions show the scars. Its anger festers within the very souls and flesh of those who defeated the beast."

"Like Maxim Braeve," I said.

She nodded. "He was not even sworn to the Alder then. A true hero."

I stared at Jocelyn as her words sank in. Sixty years. "Is he that old? I know us paladins don't age like normal mortals."

"He is as old as he appears," she told me. "His grandfather was the King of Ekarleon, and the one responsible for bringing the Lindenwurm to this land."

She did turn to look at me then, her false eyes of gold shimmering with their own internal light. "Jocelyn Ascalon carries the wyrm on his back for the sins of his forefathers. And I intend to save him."

"Why?" I asked.

Maerlys smiled then, and on her ruined face, that expression was terrible to behold. It made ravines form in her cheeks and caused dead ribbons of skin to crack.

"Because he is my godson, and I swore to his mother on her deathbed that I would."

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