Kieran, though, had drawn himself up, his face a mask Mark knew well—it was the look he had always worn when the rest of the Hunt mocked him and called him princeling. Later he had won their respect and been able to protect both himself and Mark, but he had had no friends in the Hunt besides Mark—and perhaps Gwyn, in his own odd way.

Mark, though, had never won their respect. Or so he had always thought. As he gazed around the group of silent Hunters on their steeds, some faces familiar and some new, he saw that they regarded him differently. There was no contempt in their eyes as they noted the fresh Marks on his arms, the gear he wore, and the weapons belt at his waist, bristling with seraph blades.

The riotous celebration that had followed the arrival of Gwyn and Diana had quieted down upon the arrival of the Hunt. Helen had taken Dru and Tavvy and marched them back to the house, over their protests. Diana slid from Orion’s back and went to stand beside Kit and Ty as Emma headed back to the Institute with Aline to see if they could help Alec.

Gwyn dismounted, removing his helmet as he did so. To Mark’s astonishment, he inclined his head to Kieran. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Gwyn bow his head to anyone before.

“Gwyn,” said Kieran. “Why have you brought all the Hunt here? I thought they were delivering the water.”

“They wished to acknowledge you before they left upon their mission,” said Gwyn.

One of the Hunt, a tall man with an impassive, scarred face, bowed from his saddle. “We have done your will,” he said. “Liege lord.”

Kieran blanched.

“Liege lord?” echoed Cristina, clearly stunned.

Diana touched Gwyn lightly on the shoulder and strode back toward the Institute. Mark’s head was spinning: “Liege” was what the Hunt often called a monarch, a King or Queen of Faerie. Not a mere prince, and not one sworn to the Hunt.

Kieran inclined his head, at last. “My thanks,” he said. “I will not forget this.”

That seemed to satisfy the Hunt; they turned their horses and took to the air, bursting up into the sky like fireworks. Ty and Kit ran to the edge of the clearing to watch them as they hurtled across the sky, riders and steeds blurring into the same silhouettes. Their hooves churned the air, and a deep boom of thunder sounded across the beaches and coves.

Kieran turned to stare at Gwyn. “What was that?” he demanded. “What are you doing, Gwyn?”

“Your mad brother Oban sits upon the throne of Unseelie,” said Gwyn. “He drinks, he whores, he makes no laws. He demands loyalty. He musters an army to bring to his parley with the Cohort, though his advisers warn against it.”

“Where is my brother?” said Kieran. “Where is Adaon?”

Gwyn looked uneasy. “Adaon is weak,” he said. “And he is not the one who slew the King. He has not earned the throne.”

“You would put a Hunter on the throne,” said Kieran. “A friend to your causes.”

“Perhaps,” said Gwyn. “But regardless of what I want, Adaon is a prisoner in Seelie. Kieran, there will be a battle. There is no avoiding it. You must take the mantle of leadership from Oban as all look on.”

“Take the mantle of leadership?” said Mark. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Yes,” said Gwyn.

“You can’t honestly be telling him to kill his brother in the middle of a battle,” said Cristina, looking furious.

“Kieran killed his father in the middle of a battle,” said Gwyn. “I should think he could do this. There is hardly family feeling between Kieran and Oban.”

“Stop!” Kieran said. “I can speak for myself. I will not do it, Gwyn. I am not fit to be King.”

“Not fit?” Gwyn demanded. “The best of my Hunters? Kieran—”

“Leave him be, Gwyn,” Mark said. “It is his choice alone.”

Gwyn placed his helmet on his head and swung himself onto Orion’s back. “I am not asking you to do this because it is the best thing for you, Kieran,” he said, looking down from the horse’s back. “I am asking you because it is the best thing for Faerie.”

Orion sprang into the air. In the distance, Ty and Kit gave a small cheer, waving at Gwyn from the ground.

“Gwyn has gone mad,” said Kieran. “I am not the best thing for any place.”

Before Mark could reply, Cristina’s phone beeped. She picked it up and said, “It’s Emma. Magnus is recovering.” She smiled all over her face, bright as a star. “The lake water is working.”

25

BY LIFTING WINDS

Sunlight poured into the library through every available window: They had all been flung open. It lay in squares on the floor and painted the table in bright stripes. It turned Mark’s and Helen’s hair to white gold, made Jace into a tousled bronze statue, and lit Magnus’s cat eyes to tourmaline as he sat curled on the couch, looking pale but energized and drinking Lake Lyn water out of a crystal vial with a brightly colored straw.

He was leaning against Alec, who was grinning ear to ear and scolding Magnus to drink more water. Emma wouldn’t have thought it was possible to do both at once, but Alec was used to multitasking.

“This water is making me drunk,” Magnus complained. “And it tastes awful.”

“It contains no alcohol,” said Diana. She looked tired—not surprising, after her journey to and from Idris—but composed as always, in a tailored black dress. “It might have a slight hallucinatory effect, though.”

“That explains why I can see seven of you,” Magnus said to Alec. “My ultimate fantasy.”

Dru covered Tavvy’s ears, though Tavvy was playing with a Slinky Alec had given him and appeared deaf to the world.

Magnus pointed. “That one of you over there is extremely attractive, Alexander.”

“That’s a vase,” said Helen.

Magnus squinted at it. “I’d be willing to buy it from you.”

“Maybe later,” said Helen. “Right now we should all focus on what Diana has to tell us.”

Diana took a sip of coffee. Emma had tea; everyone else was mainlining caffeine and sugar. Alec had gone out in a state of mad happiness and bought dozens of cinnamon rolls, doughnuts, and pies for breakfast. This had had the effect of getting everyone to rush at top speed to the library, including Kit and Ty. Even the most secretive fifteen-year-old boy wasn’t immune to glazed apple fritters.

“I told some of you last night, but it’s probably best I explain it again,” she said. “We were able to get a great deal of water from Lake Lyn with the help of the Wild Hunt; they are currently distributing it to warlocks all over the world.”

“The Clave and Council have noticed nothing,” said Helen. “Aline spoke to her father this morning and he confirmed it.” Aline was in the office now, tracking the progress of the deliveries of the lake water to warlocks in even the remotest places.

Emma raised her Styrofoam cup of tea. “Good job, Diana!”

A cheer went around the table; Diana smiled. “I could not have done it without Gwyn,” she said. “Or without Kieran. It is faeries who have helped us.”

“The Children of Lilith will indeed be in debt to the Children of the Courts after this day, Kieran Kingson,” said Magnus, staring intently in what he clearly thought was Kieran’s direction.

“That was a very nice speech, Bane,” said Jace. “Unfortunately, you’re talking to a doughnut.”

“I appreciate the sentiment regardless,” said Kieran. He had blushed at Diana’s words and the tops of his cheekbones were still pink. It made a nice contrast with his blue hair.

Diana cleared her throat. “We brought the lake water to the blight,” she said. “It seemed to stop it from spreading, but the land is still ruined. I don’t know if it will heal.”

“Tessa says it will stop affecting the warlocks,” said Cristina. “That the land will always be scarred, but the sickness will no longer spread.”

“Did you see anything else in Idris?” Julian asked. Emma looked at him sideways; it hurt to look at him too directly. “Anything else we should know?”

Diana turned the cup in her hands around thoughtfully. “Idris feels—empty and strange with no Downworlders there. Some of its magic has fled. A Brocelind without faeries is just a forest. It is as if a piece of the soul of Idris is gone.”

“Helen—” It was Aline, slamming the door behind her; she looked disheveled and worried. In her hand was a piece of slightly charred paper—a fire-message. She stopped dead as she seemed to realize how many other people were in the library. “I just talked to Maia in New York. A mob of Shadowhunters descended on a group of harmless faeries and slaughtered them. Kaelie Whitewillow is dead.” Aline’s voice was tight with strain.

“How dare they?” Magnus sat up straight, his face alive with fury. He slammed the vial down on the table. “The Cold Peace wasn’t enough? Banishing Downworlders who have lived in Idris for centuries wasn’t enough? Now it’s murder?”

“Magnus—” Alec began, clearly worried.

Blue flame shot from Magnus’s hands. Everyone jerked backward; Dru grabbed Tavvy. Kieran flung an arm across Cristina to shield her; so did Mark, at the same time. No one looked more startled than Cristina.

Emma raised an eyebrow at Cristina across the table. Cristina blushed, and both Mark and Kieran quickly dropped their arms.

The blue flame was gone in a moment; there was a streak of char on the table, but no other damage. Magnus looked down at his hands in surprise.