Iron Fey. Julie Kagawa

at the very end of the hallway swung open, and two college-age girls walked out, laughing and giggling. I blinked and moved aside as they passed, reeking of smoke and alcohol, and stumbled back toward the main bar. Looking back, I caught a glimpse of the room behind the panel as it swung closed—a toilet, a sink and a mirror—and stared wide-eyed at Grimalkin.

      “The bathroom?”

      Grimalkin yawned. “What humans will not do to keep themselves entertained,” he mused with half-lidded eyes. “It is even more amusing when they are drunk and cannot find the door. But I suggest we get moving. That redcap motley has taken quite an interest in you.”

      I looked back to see that the redcap had been joined by three of his friends, and all four faeries were staring at us and muttering among themselves. Ash joined us in the hall, his icy blade still unsheathed, tendrils of mist writhing off it to mingle with the smoke.

      “Hurry,” he growled at us, pushing me toward the end of the hall. “I don’t like the attention we’re getting. Cat, have you opened the trod?”

      “Give me a moment, Prince.” Grimalkin sighed, and sauntered toward the panel that had so recently opened.

      “Wait, aren’t you their prince?” I wondered. “They’re Unseelie, too, right? Can’t you just order them to leave us alone?”

      Ash gave a low, humorless chuckle. “I’m a prince,” he replied, still keeping an eye on the redcaps, who in turn were keeping an eye on us. “But I’m not the only one. My brothers are looking for you, as well. Rowan has eyes and ears everywhere, I’m sure. He’s much more ruthless than I am. Those redcaps could work for him, or they could be spies for Mab herself. Either way, they’re going to inform someone of our passing the moment we leave this place. I can guarantee it.”

      “Sounds like a great family,” I muttered.

      Ash snorted. “You have no idea.”

      “Done,” said Grimalkin from the end of the hallway. “Let us go.”

      “After you,” Ash said, motioning me forward. “I’ll make sure nothing follows us.”

      I slid the panel open, half expecting to see the tiny bathroom with the stained sink and toilet and scrawled-on walls. Instead, a cold breeze blew into the hallway, smelling of frost and bark and crushed leaves, and the gray, misty forest of the Nevernever stretched away through the door.

      Grimalkin slipped through first, becoming nearly invisible in the fog. I followed, stepping through the doorway that became a split tree trunk on the other side. Ash ducked through and shut the door firmly behind us, where it faded into nothingness as soon as he let it go, leaving the mortal world behind.

      It was colder in this part of the wyldwood. Frost coated the ground and the branches of the trees, and the mist clung to my skin with clammy fingers. I couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction. Everything was overly quiet and still, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

      “Tir Na Nog is close,” Ash said, his voice muffled by the clinging fog. His breath did not puff or hang in the air like mine did. Trembling, I rubbed my arms to get warm. “We should move quickly. I want to get to Winter as fast as possible.”

      I was tired. My legs were cramped, both from riding and walking, my head hurt and the cold was sapping the last of my willpower. And I knew from personal experience that it would only get colder the closer we got to Tir Na Nog.

      Thankfully, Grimalkin noticed my reluctance. “The human is about to fall over from exhaustion,” he stated bluntly, twitching his tail. “She will only slow us down if we push her much farther. Perhaps we should look for a place to rest.”

      “Soon,” Ash said, and turned to me. “Just a little farther, Meghan. Can you do that? We’ll stop as soon as we cross the border into Tir Na Nog.”

      I nodded wearily. Ash took my hand, and with Grimalkin leading the way, we walked into the curling mist.

      Minutes later, the howl rang out behind us.

      Chapter Three

      THE LIVING COLD

      Ash stopped, every muscle in his body coiling tight, as the echo of that eerie cry faded into the mist.

      “Impossible,” he murmured, his voice frighteningly calm. “It’s on our trail again. How? How could it find us so quickly?”

      Grimalkin suddenly let out a long, low growl, which shocked me and caused goose bumps to crawl up my arms. The cat had never done that before. “It is the Hunter,” Grimalkin said, as his fur began to rise along his back and shoulders. “The Eldest Hunter, the First.” He glanced at us, teeth bared, looking feral and wild. “You must flee, quickly! If he has your trail he will be coming fast. Run, now!”

      We ran.

      The woods flashed by us, dark and indistinct, shadowy shapes in the mist. I didn’t know if we were running in circles or straight into the Hunter’s jaws. Grimalkin had disappeared. Direction was lost in the coiling mist. I only hoped that Ash knew where he was going as we fled through the eerie whiteness.

      The howl came again, closer this time, more excited. I dared a backward glance, but could see nothing beyond the swirling fog and shadows. But I could feel whatever it was, getting closer. It could see us now, fleeing before it, the back of my neck a tempting target. I stifled my panic and kept running, clinging to Ash’s hand as we wove through the forest.

      The trees fell away, the fog cleared a bit and suddenly a great chasm opened before us, wide and gaping like the maw of a giant beast. Ash jerked me to a stop three feet from the edge, and a shower of pebbles went clattering down the jagged sides, vanishing into the river of mist far below. The crack in the earth ran along the edge of the wyldwood for as far as I could see in either direction, separating us from the safety on the other side.

      Beyond the chasm, a snow-covered landscape stretched away before us, icy and pristine. Trees were frozen, covered in ice, every twig outlined in sparkling crystal. The ground beneath looked like a blanket of clouds, white and fluffy. Snowdrifts glittered in the sun like millions of tiny diamonds. Tir Na Nog, the land of Winter, home to Mab and the Unseelie Court.

      “This way.” Ash tugged my hand and pulled me along the chasm, where the mist from the wyldwood rolled off the edge and down the cliff sides like a slow-moving waterfall. “If we can get to the bridge, I can stop him.”

      Panting, I followed the edge of the gorge and gasped in relief. About a hundred yards away, an arched bridge, made completely of ice, sparkled enticingly in the sun.

      Something snapped in the woods at our right, something huge and fast. The Hunter was silent now, no howls or deep throaty bays; it was moving in for the kill.

      We reached the bridge, and Ash pushed me forward onto the icy surface. There were no guards or handrails, just a narrow arch over a terrifying drop. Stomach clenching, I started across, trying not to look down. Because the bridge was ice, it was perfectly clear; I felt I was walking out over nothing, seeing the dizzying fall right beneath my feet.

      My foot slipped, and my heart slammed against my ribs, pounding wildly as I flailed. Right behind me, Ash grabbed my arm tightly, and somehow we made it to the other side.

      As soon as we were off, the Winter prince drew his sword. Sunlight flashed along the blade as he raised it and brought it slashing down on the narrow bridge. The bridge cracked, icy shards glittering as they spiraled into the air, and he raised the sword for another blow.

      Across the chasm, something dark and monstrous broke out of the trees, fog swirling around it. Through the mist and shadows, I couldn’t see it clearly, but it was huge, black and terrifying, with burning, yellow-green eyes. When it saw what Ash was doing, it roared, making the air tremble, then bounded for the bridge.

      Ash brought his sword down again, then once more, and with a deafening crack, the ice bridge shattered. Our end slid away and dropped into oblivion, taking with it the entire arch,