Chatter snapped his fingers. “Of course—I had forgotten about it! There’s a tunnel that runs from barrow to barrow. It’s been there longer than I have been alive, and I have no idea what it was used for, but the Queen of Rivers and Rushes closed it up long ago and told us never to play down there. I think . . .” He looked around, then turned to the snow hag. “Riddle me this . . . if there is such a pathway, it would have to have an entrance.”

She burped, loudly, and wiped her nose. “A guess that such an entrance would be hidden beneath the boughs of a holly bush would not entirely be incorrect.”

“Aha!” Chatter bounded over to a clump of trees where a holly bush poked through as the snow hag cleared her throat and spit out a plug of phlegm.

She sniffed the air. “Travelers wouldn’t do well to tarry long on this day, that’s a piece of truth for the taking. And Wilding Fae best be off to home and hearth again before the loosened snare is discovered.” With that, she whirled in a flash of snow and wind and vanished from sight.

“Hurry, come on!” Chatter motioned us over to the holly bush, where he lifted the branches, wincing as they dug into his hand. I couldn’t see anything but dirt protected from the snow by the branches, but Chatter whispered something and there, secreted back next to the trunk of the tree, a faint green light appeared in a square pattern. He quickly slapped the ground three times and the light—and dirt—vanished.

“Down, both of you. It should be safe and it will get us close to the Court of Dreams portal without being noticed.” He motioned to me. “You first, Miss Cicely. I have to go last to close it up again.”

I hesitantly slipped over the side. “Is there a ladder—” I started to ask but then stopped as my feet felt rungs. They were silver. As soon as I touched them, the metal resonated through my body.

I’d always liked silver, but since I’d first turned into an owl, the metal had started to affect me more and more—gold, too, to some extent, but especially silver. Silver was strong with Fae magic, and gold, too, though not as strongly. When the Fae came in contact with silver it was like meeting a friend who made you shiver with their touch. I hoped I wouldn’t develop the bad reaction to iron that most Fae had.

Clinging to the rungs, I slowly let myself down, but I was not climbing through dirt. No, I was moving through some sort of portal, through a dimensional space. All around me was a misty green, swirling like silk, smelling of raspberries and lemonade and warm drowsy afternoons, and it made me want to breathe deep and never let the scent out of my lungs.

I reached the bottom finally, after what seemed like a very long climb, and jumped off the ladder. Peyton was right behind me, and lastly, Chatter. He glanced around. It was so dark I wasn’t sure what he could see, but after a moment, he held out his hand and a miniature flame sprang up in his palm, only it was the color of sunlight shining through tree leaves, and it flickered merrily as he held his hand out in front of him.

The light illuminated the passage, but another flicker caught my eye. I took a moment to examine the walls. I had thought them to be dirt and compacted soil, but they were actually stonework—a wall built to shore up a tunnel that was thousands of years old, and yet the air in here was as fresh as the air outside. The walls sparkled: Between the stones and mortar were shards of colored glass. As I looked at them closely, lights flickered from within the pebbles.

“What are these?” I pointed to one particular stone that was shimmering with a fiery color.

“Magic holds up these walls, the magic of summer. The sparkle you see is encapsulated sunlight, woven into the core of the gem.” He glanced over at me, his eyes shining in the reflection of the light, and I began to realize just how much the Court of Rivers and Rushes had lost when Myst came sweeping through.

A thought occurred to me, but I didn’t want to say anything. Not yet. But what if Lainule had hidden her heartstone down in these tunnels? What if that was why she had sealed them over? Could we possibly find it and return it to her?

My promise to her rang sharply, though, and as much as I wanted to take a look around and see what we could find, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Bound by oath . . . she had extracted a promise from me, and I was powerless to break my word. Right now. But later . . . when the risk wasn’t so great . . .

Gathering my thoughts, I turned to Chatter. “It’s close to two P.M. by my guess. We need to get moving.”

“Right, but you’re going to find that time no longer matters. At least for now.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but he turned away and led us through the winding tunnel. Though it was empty and clear—and actually fairly warm and dry—I felt we were being watched, and it left me uneasy. But I had no sense that Myst or her minions were aware of us. No, it was more like walking through a memory book, where the scent and sounds of old parties and dances that had long ago faded from time played out just on the threshold of hearing.

Even Peyton noticed. “What’s that?” She stopped.

“What?”

She turned this way and that, then relaxed. “Nothing, I guess. I thought I heard something, but . . . there’s nothing here.”

The sudden shifts and currents continued, and as time went on, it felt like we were wandering through a dream. My feet on autopilot, I drifted in and out of the slipstream, trying to catch the voices slipping past in a rush of whispers. There was a peal of laughter, soft words on a dusky summer’s night, a shout of recognition. After a while, I stopped trying to understand and simply let them wash over me and vanish.

After a long time, Chatter held up his hand and pointed toward a fork in the passage. “To the left, then another few moments, and we reach the ladder to climb out.”

I bit my lip, wondering what might be waiting outside for us. “How long have we been walking?”

“This passage is inside the barrow structure. Time shifts while we’re here . . . it bends. There’s no telling how long we’ve been in here, compared to the outer world.”

I’d experienced the time shift before, when I entered Lainule’s realm over at Dovetail Lake. I’d also noticed a shift when I turned into my owl self. Either time flew by without my realizing it, or I’d seem to be out for hours and when I returned, only moments had passed.

I could never seem to control the time shifts, and I didn’t understand them yet, but they were definitely part of my awakening Fae nature. It was as if a part of myself had been locked away, waiting for Prince Charming’s kiss—only the kiss had been a pendant and instead of waking from a magical sleep, I woke to a magical form. Until then, like all of the magic-born, I’d followed the time threads of the yummanii and the Weres, although magic-born—like the Weres—lived longer.

We climbed the ladder, Chatter going first, and again, the silver compound resonated through my fingertips, into my body. At the top, he did something I couldn’t see, and then we crawled out through the opening, onto the snowy surface. The first thing that struck me was that it was almost dark.

“Crap, the Shadow Hunters will be up and about soon. How far did we come? How far in are we? We can’t have been walking that long.”

Chatter flashed me a ghost of a smile. “We covered well over twenty miles, but I have no idea how long we were walking.”

“We’re deep into the woodland, then.” Shivering, I glanced around. It had been nice and warm belowground, but now the icy teeth of winter bit deep and I shivered, realizing I’d felt safe down in the tunnel. Now I felt terribly exposed again, and terribly vulnerable. “How far to the Court of Dreams?”

“We’re near the portal.” Chatter pointed toward a rocky foothill that rose through the tree line. “We have to go halfway up, and then a path to the right leads to the cave where the portal is. The climb is rough at first, over the rocks, but that part doesn’t last for more than about fifteen minutes and then it’s fairly easy going, though all uphill.”

We scrambled over the heap of granite boulders that had piled upward. Another alluvial deposit, like back at the creek where we’d escaped Myst and her hunters? No, not a wide enough swath, but I definitely recognized glacial activity here. The Washington mountains were full of rockfall and sweeping alluvial fans left from when the last ice age retreated from the area.

During the summer, the conies—or pikas, as some folk called them—lived on the rocky slopes. The creatures were within the lagomorph family, like rabbits, but they looked like a cross between mice and hamsters. Pikas didn’t hibernate during winter but would be hiding beneath the boulders with their haypiles—the grass and food they’d managed to tuck away for the winter.

I scanned the area, looking for any sign one might be out and about, with no luck. I wasn’t sure why I hoped to see one—it would just set off my owl instinct to hunt, but for some reason the thought of the resilient little creatures braving the winter seemed inspiring. And right now, we could use all the hope and inspiration we could get.

We managed to get past the rock slide and finally found ourselves on a snowy slope, leading up through the trees. My legs were burning from the exercise—I’d thought I’d gotten plenty on the streets, running from gang members, irate landlords, and thugs, but the past couple of weeks had put my body to the test and I’d discovered muscles I’d never even known existed. The lactic acid was building in my calves, and I longed to sit and rest.

I glanced over at Peyton. She looked to be sweating as much as I was. “I’m about done in. How about you?”

She nodded, her hands thrust deep in her pockets. “We should have brought walking sticks. Chatter’s fully Fae; he can walk on top of the snow, but we have to slog through it.”

And slog we did. The higher we went, the deeper the snow became, and at this point it reached my knees. Each step was like wading through thick mud.

“Chatter, how much farther?”

He glanced over his shoulder, then stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two were tired. Not much farther. See that clump of fir ahead? The ones next to the snowed-over ferns?” He pointed to a stand of trees about two city blocks away, up the mountain. “The path to the cave takes off there, and we will be on a trail that runs parallel to the mountain. The going won’t be so difficult then, and from there, it’s probably another twenty minutes to the cave.”

I motioned to the sky. “It’s almost dark. Are we in danger from Myst, do you think?”

He bit his lip, thinking, then shook his head. “I don’t think her attention is directed toward the mountains. She seems to be focused on the city and the area down below. Remember, we’re a good twenty-some miles from your house. I doubt if she sends her spies out this far. And while they might pick up our scent back near the beginning of the underground passage, I used a magical charm to ward the entryway from sight. I might not be a powerful mage, but I’m very good with hiding and camouflage.”

Nodding, I motioned for him to lead on. Since we’d gotten him away from the Indigo Court, Chatter had really blossomed out into his own. In some ways, being Grieve’s sidekick had kept him cowed. Now he took charge naturally and did not hang back waiting for orders.

“I tell you this,” I said to Peyton as we headed toward the stand of fir. “Once we get home, we’re hitting the gym a lot harder. If there are any more twenty-mile hikes in our future, I want to be in shape for it.”

She laughed, and we continued to trudge through the ever-falling snow.

A half hour later, we stood in front of the cave. It was squat and wide, and we’d have to crouch down to enter.

“Does the portal start when we enter? I mean, is the cave mouth itself the actual portal?” I stared at the black maw, not certain how I felt about stepping into a dark, dank hole in the mountain. Especially one that might contain, oh, say . . . a bear. Or a cougar.

“No, the actual portal lies within the cave. But don’t fret,” Chatter said, seeming to perceive my worry. “Animals steer clear of here—they can sense the energy and it scares away most of them. Oh, we might find a rat or mouse or some such creature, but I wouldn’t worry about large predators.”

“Spiders?” Peyton asked. “I’m not afraid of them but I don’t like them.”

“This time of year? Unlikely.” He brushed away a snowflake that drifted down to light on his nose and stooped to enter the cave. “Come on, let’s move.”

The sky had turned deep indigo now, the indigo of twilight, and with the silvery clouds that covered the area, it illuminated the entire valley below with a bluish glow. I gazed at the wonderland. Myst had brought winter with her. Though she might be terrifying and ruthless, she was also beautiful and breathtaking, and so was her season. The air was chill and I listened to the slipstream, lowering myself into it to see what I could pick up, but the only sounds were those of burrowing animals.

As Peyton bent to crawl into the cave, I happened to catch a glimpse farther down the mountainside. Gleaming in the odd light, three Ice Elementals strode through a secluded clearing, their bodies faceted and angular. They were not hunting—I could tell from their stance—nor did they appear to take any notice of our movement. If they were aware of us at all, they gave no sign. They swept through the clearing with strong footsteps, focused on their journey, and against the evening sky they shimmered like diamonds. Another moment, and they were hidden beneath the tree cover again.

As I scrambled to join Peyton and Chatter, all I could think about was the incredible beauty that such a harsh and unyielding season contained.