When we crossed through the gateway, we remained in the open air. Under a canopy of stars, I walked over the cobbled ground by Aengus’s side. I had a general idea that two concentric, U-shaped walls formed the outermost fortifications of the Institute’s grounds, and that we were walking between them. But I didn’t have the full layout, yet.

As we walked, ancient stone walls loomed over either side of the path. My headlamp bounced over dark, narrow windows in the towering stone around us. Moss and vines grew all around.

I loosed a long breath, reviewing my situation. Ruadan had taken my knife, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Baleros had taught me to turn the world around me into weapons. Furniture, brooms, glass bottles—all sort of objects could be used to maim or kill. I’d never be truly without a weapon.

As we walked, Aengus cast me a sharp glance. “You look ridiculous with that thing on your head.”

“At least I can see.” I bit my lip. “So, that was an interesting test. How many of those creatures do you sacrifice for your trials? And how do people kill them if we’re not supposed to have weapons?”

“The gorta?” Aengus slid his gaze to me. “We’ve only sacrificed one so far. You weren’t supposed to kill him. You were simply supposed to withstand the hunger and then walk on. You were the one who decided that the trial involved death. Now we have to get a new one, which will be a right pain in the arse.”

Awkward. “Well, it involved death for all those recruits whose bones now decorate the moat. I wasn’t about to let myself become one of them.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a ruthless side?”

I flashed him my sweetest smile. Oh, you have no idea.

“Where did you learn to fight?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You look young for someone so skilled.”

“I learned underground.” And that was all the answer he was getting.

“I guess that explains the headlamp.”

“Where are you taking me now?”

“To your temporary lodgings.”

“And after tonight, I could end up with you or Ruadan?” I may have injected a bit of venom into his name, but he had seriously annoyed me so far.

“There are four other knights as well. I take it you don’t like Ruadan.”

“I’d call him interpersonally challenged, what with all the shadows and glaring and busting through doors. Not to mention the inexplicable silence. And he stole my knife.”

“I see. He’s got a personality problem, and yet you celebrated your invitation into our Institution by slaughtering our only gatekeeper.”

“Are you still banging on about that?” I asked. “I thought we’d moved on.”

“Eorleoch was four hundred eighty-three years old.”

“The bones in his moat suggested he wasn’t exactly the nicest of gents, so if you’re trying to make me feel guilty, it won’t work.”

“He had four children.”

“Stop.”

“And a pet rabbit.”

I snarled at Aengus. “You should have been more specific about the task if you didn’t want me to kill him.”

Still in the open air, he was leading me north. Silence hung heavily over the old fortress. We passed by several towers until, at last, Aengus paused under an archway. On either side of the archway’s openings, a portcullis was raised partway, giving it the appearance of a gaping mouth with iron teeth.

As Aengus pulled a skeleton key from his pocket, I ran my fingertips over the rough stone walls. “Why do I feel like a prisoner here?” I asked.

“Because you are. If you attempt to escape, we will sever your head with an iron ax.”

“Nice.”

The door creaked open into a dark stairwell lit by a few candles. Inside, the air was musty. Golden runes glowed on the walls, and while I couldn’t read the ancient fae language, I had a feeling that the runes provided a type of magical security. No one would be going in or out of the Tower unnoticed. Still, it was beautiful. Among the runes, honeysuckle grew all over the walls, and the ropes of plants seemed to move and shift like giant snakes.

I followed Aengus up several stories of crooked stairs.

We crossed into a cramped stone hallway. Silvery light streamed in through the windows.

“Hang on.” I needed to get my bearings. I peered out the window to my left. From here, I had a view of the Institute’s interior. A riot of vibrant wildflowers dappled long grasses beneath us. With this view, I confirmed my theory about the layout—we were standing within one of the U-shaped stone walls surrounding the Tower Green. And in the center of the Tower Green stood a pale, castle-like building with peaked turrets. Blooming flowers twined its ragstone walls. I thought it might be the oldest part of the Institute.

“Come on,” said Aengus.

“Just a sec.” I crossed to the other side. From that window, I could see the city of London spread out like a sea of twinkling jewels. Twenty-five years ago—when the four Horsemen had roamed the earth—this would have all been darkness. Apocalypse. Anarchy. And now, everything had returned like it once had been—except with the added horror of the spell-slayers.

I’d once read that the Great Fire in 1666 had completely destroyed most of London. The seventeenth century architects had planned to build a new world—one with wide, modern boulevards and straight roads that actually made sense. While they were making their plans, London’s residents just went back and built everything the way it was, sticking to the crooked, winding, and completely nonsensical street patterns they’d been using forever. It was the same thing after the Anarchy. Everything just resumed the way it had been before the angelic apocalypse. Same bars, same food, same technology. Even the same brands and shops.

“I won’t wait any longer.” Aengus had already moved on, and he stood before one of the doors farther down the hallway.

I sighed, crossing to him. When I reached him, he was turning a key in the lock.

“Are you going to tell me what happens next? What our next trial is?” I asked.

“I’m sure Melusine will fill you in.” Was that a hint of mockery in his tone? “But you might want to turn off that headlamp if you don’t want to wake her.”

I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking him what he meant, but I flicked off my headlamp all the same. The door swung open into darkness, and he motioned for me to enter.

I stepped inside the room, sniffing the air. It smelled a bit of flowers, moss—and something like the damp mud of a riverbed.

The door slammed behind me. A stream of moonlight filtered through a slim window onto a figure—someone sitting bolt upright on a bed. I could just about make out feminine curves and long hair.

I dropped my bug-out bag by the door.

A pair of eyes snapped open, but her expression didn’t change. “Oh. A roommate,” she said. “They said I wouldn’t have a roommate. Guess they were wrong. Training begins in the morning. You’ve got a wrinkled shirt. Recruited from the streets, weren’t you? I see rumpled clothes, and I think ‘not a volunteer.’ I put two and two together. I get it. You were forced into competing here. A rogue. An outlaw. A ne’er-do-well. I’m not judging. But me? I prefer to follow the rules. You can follow the rules and still be a fun person. I like to think that I’m a kidder. You know, really funny.”

Oh, gods. So this was Melusine.

“The rest are volunteers like me,” she went on. “But they’re large, muscular men. That’s fine. That’s their thing. I see muscles, I think strength. My strength is magic. When we get to the trials that require magic, I will be in my element. Personally, I’m here because of my superior intellect—”

It was at that point I mentally calculated the probability of convincing Aengus to give me a new room. I put the chances of him caring about my comfort just slightly above the likelihood of spontaneously combusting in the night but lower than the chances of randomly getting pecked to death by the Tower’s ravens. 

I decided to just stay where I was. And in any case, she was already telling me things I probably needed to know. Things like—we were supposed to know magic. And that would be a little problem for me, since I didn’t know the first thing about magic.

“My mother wanted me to leave Maremount,” Melusine continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “She said to me, you never found yourself a suitable husband. Not my fault none of the men could see what a good wife I’d be. I can make four kinds of bread. Corn bread, oat bread—” 

I cleared my throat. “It’s the middle of the night. Why are you sitting up in bed?” 

“—and corn-oat bread, and also a second kind of corn bread with slightly more eggs. Did you ask some kind of question?”

“Why are you awake?”

“I have trained my sleep cycles. I can get twelve hours’ worth of sleep in one hour. I don’t like to waste time. It’s like the old saying goes, even the fae will die someday, so you should never sleep.”

“That’s not a—never mind. I’m just going to go to sleep on the floor, and we’ll catch up tomorrow.”

“The floor. Interesting. I see floor-sleeping, I see a backpack you don’t need—probably full of emergency items you can’t part with—I think traumatic history. Ready to flee at any moment. Keep all your stuff with you. Get attached to items and not people if you can help it, keep your stuff close and expect the worst. I put two and two together.”

Gods save me.

I couldn’t see much in the darkness, just the dark contours of parallel beds and a dresser against the wall.

I pulled off my boots and stumbled over to one of the darkened corners of the room. I curled up on the floor, finding that a lush carpet covered it, soft against my cheeks. It smelled of the earth, of home.

Melusine was still lauding her intellectual powers as I let my eyes shut. Images swam in my mind—of Ciara, tied to the chair, a gag in her mouth.

Despite the horror of what lay within my skull, it turned out, Melusine’s monologues were actually very good for drifting off to.

I woke with sunlight streaming into the room, and a vague memory of Melusine trying to wake me. I couldn’t remember what she’d said exactly, but it was probably something like, It’s morning now. I always get up early, myself, because it’s the best time to have an amazing sense of humor and make four kinds of corn bread.

Normally, I was a light sleeper, but the magical spell Ruadan had slammed me with was still sapping my energy. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and I got a clear view of my surroundings for the first time.

I hadn’t actually been sleeping on a carpet at all. Thick, lush moss covered the floor, and honeysuckle climbed the stone walls. Wildflowers grew from the ceiling—bluebells, yellow wood-sorrel, and lavender orchids. The beds looked as if they’d been hewn from enormous oak trunks, with branches sprouting into the air around them.

The fae had really taken over in here since the apocalypse.

I rose, still wearing yesterday’s rumpled clothes, and padded over the mossy ground to an archway leading into another room.

I found a bathroom, but one like I’d never seen. A stone tub rose from the floor itself, like a natural feature that had always been there, and hot spring water bubbled in it. Ferns surrounded it, and pearly sunlight poured in through the window. Enormous, gnarled stags’ antlers grew from the ceiling, and water trickled into a rocky sink.

But most importantly, in this bathroom, I wouldn’t be getting lectures about the joys of a freshly buried scrotum. In the peace and quiet here, I wanted nothing more than to take a warm bath, but I knew I was already late for—whatever I was supposed to be doing this morning. Possibly learning about magic.

Back in the bedroom, a leaded window looked out onto the Tower Green. Morning light washed over a fireplace, carved wooden furniture, and wooden sconces that grew from the walls.

Given all the wood and candles, I could only hope that some of the glowing runes on the wall managed fire safety.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a handwritten note on my bed.

Tried to wake you. Come to the Great Hall. Cailleach Tower.

Yep, I was definitely late. Not a great start. Slovenly, captured in the streets, terminally late: I was definitely well on my way to achieving Baleros’s law about getting the enemy to underestimate you.