I didn’t have to worry about an alarm. The morning sunlight streaming through the bare windows was enough to wake me from even the deepest of sleeps.

Yasmin’s mirror call was arriving just after dawn, so the morning light was a blessing. Today—more than ever—it was crucial that I made contact with her.

I jumped out of bed, crossing the cold flagstone floor to the bathroom. There, I stood in front of the gilt-frame mirror and lit a candle.

When Yasmin’s blurry face appeared in the mirror, I held up the candle close to the glass. Then I held my palm in front of the flame to shield it, giving Yasmin the one, two, three signal.

Yasmin leaned over, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Through the reflection, she held up a sign that read, “Six hours. Meet in the cave.” Then her image shimmered away.

A lump rose in my throat. Six hours? We weren’t that far from London—couldn’t she get here faster? I needed to tell her that this was a desperate situation, that she needed to get here right away. But I had only a candle to get the message across. As I racked my brain for what I could remember of Morse code, the connection cut out.

I swallowed hard. How long would the angels wait before exacting their revenge?

They were relying on Adonis for the slaughter. Maybe I could find a way to keep him occupied for now. Another trip to his room to talk about Afeka and fruit and tempt him to touch my nightgown? But if I pissed off Kratos too much, he’d never find my sister for me.

I crossed into the chilly bedroom, goosebumps covering my skin.

I pulled open the wardrobe, snatching out the only bits of warm and comfortable clothing in there—a pair of leather leggings and a long black sweater. At my request, Susie had found a pair of boots for me, and I pulled them on over my leggings.

While I waited for Yasmin to show up, I’d go on another fact-finding mission. Kratos had said I could explore the Tower of Wrath and the forest outside. Besides following Adonis, the forest seemed like item number one on my spy agenda for the day. I needed to find the mulberry grove, and while I was at it, I needed to stumble on the key to saving Earth from the angels.

At least according to Yasmin, the super reliable woman who’d failed to warn me about the great Winter Servant Uprising.

First, I’d start with an early-morning visit to Adonis’s room. And this time, I had to make certain no one would catch me.

I slipped out the door, one eye on the windows for sentinels.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my room, none the wiser. On the one hand, my mission to the Tower of Ash had been a success, considering no one had caught me. On the other, I was left with a deep sense of unease, because Adonis hadn’t been in his room, and I had no idea where to find him. Had he already left for London?

I had to go out and do a bit of exploring, looking for ways to kill these angels.

I slipped into my berry-blue coat, then looped my quiver over my shoulder. If I found any poisonous plants, I’d hide them in there.

I pulled open the door to my room and was immediately greeted by the sight of Susie carrying a breakfast tray. Relief flickered through me—she was alive. “Morning,” I said blandly.

“Ruby. I’ve got pastry and coffee. Won’t you be eating this morning?”

“You are amazing, Susie. Glad to see you made it through the slaughter.” I pouted. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the angels this morning, have you? I was looking for a bit of company.”

“No, I haven’t seen them. They weren’t in their rooms.”

“So where would they be?”

Her expression was stony. “I couldn’t say.”

She wasn’t going to divulge anything to me.

Disappointment washed over me. Okay. Time for plan B.

“Speaking of finding a little company, where would I find the bar in this place?” I plastered my most bored expression on my face, pretending not to care. “Did that fellow Elan make it through last night’s massacre alive? I was hoping the two of you would join me in the bar later today. I don’t like to drink alone.”

“He’s fine. Yes—we can show you the bar around lunch time.”

“Wonderful.” Because I want to get you wasted so you’ll actually help me.

I snatched a warm croissant off the tray. Then I eyed the coffee. What were the chances I could walk without spilling it all over myself? Moderate, if I used my fae powers. I pulled a steaming cup of coffee from the tray.

“I’ll just leave the rest in your room!” she called after me as I walked down the hall. “I’ll see you later.”

I sipped the coffee as I walked, and it warmed me in the chilly stairwell. Where would I find the angels, and what exactly was going on between them? If I got Elan and Susie drunk enough, I was hoping they’d spill some angel secrets.

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I’d finished my coffee, and I rested the cup in a little stone alcove near the door. Thick iron bars locked the oak door from the inside—an obvious fire hazard, but I’d let it slide. What really bothered me was the iron itself. Angels were the only supernatural creatures on Earth unperturbed by iron. To the rest of us—especially the fae—it sapped our magic and burned our skin. The more magic we used, the worse it felt—and unfortunately for me, I was perpetually disguising myself with glamour.

Never in my life had I wanted a pair of gloves more.

Instead, I shoved the croissant in my mouth to hold it, then pulled down the sleeves of my sweater so they covered my fingertips. Gingerly, I touched the metal. Through the fabric of my sweater, the iron seared my skin as it burned off the magic. I winced as the smell of burnt wool curled into the air. And was that—burnt flesh?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea with the glamour still on.

I stepped back into the shadows of the stairwell, soothing my pain with the comfort of eating a flaky, buttery croissant. As I ate, I listened carefully for the sound of footsteps from above. My sharp fae senses told me I was totally alone in here.

I closed my eyes, tuning in to the magical glamour that skimmed and shimmered over my skin. I always wore some level of glamour to hide my true fae side. The magic was second nature to me, such that I almost forgot its presence. It was like the medieval scientists had said about the music of the heavenly spheres—you’d never notice it until the music stopped.

I willed the glamour to drop, feeling uncomfortably naked without it. Now, if anyone saw me, they would see my true fae side—white-gold hair, silver eyes, skin that faintly glimmered with gold, slightly pointed ears. At the first sign of danger, my canines would come out.

Magic-free, I approached the door again. This time, when I put my shielded hands on the iron, I was able to hold them there long enough to slide the iron bar free. It dropped to the stone floor with a loud clang.

Before yanking open the door, I summoned my glamour, my hair returning to cherry red, my eyes to the deep black of a succubus.

I pushed through the heavy oak door into the milky morning sunlight, so clear and white that it burned my eyes. Based on the position of the sun, I knew how to head north, where Yasmin had said I’d find the mulberry grove.

Today, a glorious thaw pervaded the winter air. I took a right, following the curve of the castle wall until I reached the north side. Here, mossy elm trees reached for the skies, their leaves tinged ginger and dandelion yellow.

From there, I crossed to a path within the elm trees. My feet crunched over the fallen leaves as I walked, imagining seeing Hazel again. Here, under a canopy of honey and amber leaves, calm and peace imbued me for the first time in over a year. The forests were the true homes of the fae, the reason why, millennia ago, we’d chosen to stay on Earth instead of returning to the heavens with the other angels. We knew what delights lived among the oaks and moss, in the marigolds and wild poppies, in the acorn stews and drinks made of nectar. We knew what delights came from dancing naked in a myrtle grove. The fae were angels who loved the Earth.

The forest felt particularly alive to me today. For the fae, spring began February first. I hadn’t been able to keep track of the date, but I was pretty sure January was coming to a close soon. If that was the case, I’d better lock myself up. On Eimmal, the first day of spring, I’d be going a bit nuts.

As I walked through the woods, the wind whispered over my skin, toying with my crimson hair. If only I could bring Hazel here, if only we could find a way to live in the forest like our ancestors had. Maybe we could carve out a life for ourselves in the world of the Great Nightmare, assuming none of this got any worse. We could build ourselves a cottage with a fireplace, eat the food the forest gave us. It was the best I could hope for, and it seemed like a dream.

Could Kratos really find her? Would he really find her?

As I walked deeper into the forest, my path met a burbling stream, and I began to walk parallel to the water. This meant I’d be able to orient myself more easily.

With the sound of water rushing beside me, I lost myself in a fantasy—one in which Hazel and I stewed venison and made berry pies in our cozy little cottage. In the old fae tradition, I could easily make a bow from the hickory or yew trees that grew around me, and I could hunt without any problem.

I scanned the trees and plants, looking for signs of the Old Gods. I needed Devil’s Bane, and whatever else they were willing to give me.

How would I recognize a gift from the Old Gods? If the gods wanted me to find this key to angelic destruction, I hoped they would make it obvious. The forest equivalent of a flashing neon sign.

After about two miles of trekking, I spotted a cluster of purple flowering plants. Devil’s Bane. Like hemlock, the plants were as beautiful as they were deadly.

As far as I knew, these plants were highly poisonous, so I checked my hands for cuts, regretting once again my lack of gloves. Ripping them out by the stems, I shoved them into my quiver. I filled the thing halfway, then moved on.

Yasmin had been right about the Devil’s Bane, at least.

The spring’s allure washed over me, and I had to work to stay focused. All my instincts were telling me to drop my glamour, strip off my clothes, and run naked through the woods until heat flushed my chest. I definitely had to ignore those instincts.

I must’ve covered several miles before I reached the mulberry grove, and despite my best efforts, I’d seen few signs of godlike intervention along the way. Still, I found the meeting spot. When I returned later, I’d know the fastest way to get there. Follow the river, veer to the right when the trees grew so tall and thick they nearly blocked out the sun, and ignore the desire to flee naked through the woods like a wild person.

As I returned to the fortress, my quiver full of poison, dread crawled over me. Was any of this really enough to stop the angels from completing their mission?