The world changed again. This time I was thin and smooth, with no wings to beat against my captor. I slithered halfway out of her grasp before she grabbed me behind the head, pinning me again. Someone screamed, and I heard Cassandra chanting, “I am not afraid of snakes I am not afraid of—oh God, I think she’s poisonous—snakes—”

I broke free and twisted around, sinking my fangs into May’s wrist. She winced but didn’t let go. “Damn it, Toby, don’t bite,” she said. “It’s rude.”

“And he will turn me in your arms into an asp and adder,” shouted the Luidaeg. I released May’s wrist and turned toward the sound, tongue scenting the air. “But hold me tight within your arms—I am your baby’s father!”

Things shifted again. I was suddenly larger than May, tall and vast and angry. She was clinging to my neck, hands clasped beneath my jaw. I roared and tried to claw her off, unable to think of anything but freedom. I had to escape. If I didn’t, something terrible would happen; something I didn’t understand but knew enough about to fear.

Then Tybalt was in front of me, pressing his hand against my nose. I subsided, growling at him. He merely looked amused, reaching up to scratch my ears as he chided, “Calm yourself, little lioness.” May took advantage of my confusion and got a tighter grip around my neck. I started to snarl, but stopped when Tybalt smacked me on the head. All cats belong to their King. For the moment, I was more his than Blind Michael’s.

“Good plan, Tybalt,” said May, face muffled against my neck.

“I thought so,” he said. He started scratching my jaw, and I sat down, wondering confusedly if lions could purr.

“And he will turn me in your arms into the lion’s might,” said the Luidaeg. I turned toward her, forgetting my fealty to Tybalt. “But fear me not, don’t let me go, and we’ll see through this night!”

Everything shifted again, and this time I couldn’t move; the world was nothing but May trying to fold herself around me, and heat—burning, searing heat. May screamed, and suddenly Connor and Tybalt were there, forcing her not to let me go.

In the distance, Cassandra and Quentin were screaming. They were probably in the same fix as May; if Katie had joined me in the realm of “really hot things,” they’d be forcing each other’s arms around her. Burns are bad, but somehow I thought letting go might be worse.

“And he will turn me in your arms into a burning sword,” the Luidaeg said. Her words cooled me; I still couldn’t move, but it felt like the arms around me were holding just a little closer. “Hold me tight, don’t let me go; I am your one reward.”

The world shifted for the final time, and I was myself, sandwiched between Tybalt, Connor, and May. A moment later, I realized that I was naked. Gee, that was an improvement. “Please let me go,” I said.

Tybalt smirked and stood, stepping back. Connor let go as well, turning away, but not before I saw him blush. May removed her cloak and threw it over me, pulling me further into the circle as she stood. Connor and May were covered in scratches and bites, and all three of them were singed, but no one seemed to be badly burned. There were two small punctures in May’s wrist where the snake—where I—had bitten her. I hoped Fetches were really immune to physical harm, or we were going to have a whole new problem.

Katie was crying in the distance, and I could hear Cassandra scolding Quentin. I allowed myself a small, tired smile. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who was myself again.

“And he will turn me in your arms into a naked knight,” the Luidaeg said. Then her tone changed, leaving the lyrics behind. “That’s it, little brother; you’ve lost, and by your own rules, you can’t touch them again.” Her robe had turned black, making her seem like a hole in the night. Blind Michael looked wraithlike beside her, all white and gleaming ash, with Acacia like a golden ghost beside him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you took her while she was mine.”

“And the human child?”

“Because everything is connected.” She shook her head. “Nothing is free.”

“I won’t forget this.”

“No,” she said sadly, and glanced toward me. “You never do, do you?”

I shrugged May’s hands away and moved to stand beside the Luidaeg, looking at my former captor. His Hunt was splayed behind him, children and Riders huddled in confusion, while behind me, those that had come to free their children wept with joy. Softly, I said, “I don’t forget either. And I never forgive.”

The Luidaeg looked down at me and smiled. Blind Michael didn’t say another word; he just turned, cloak billowing behind him as he walked back to his horse and mounted again. He led the remains of his Hunt into the night, and they faded away as they rode, dissolving into mist and shadows. Only Acacia stayed behind, watching them go.

“Well met, sister,” said the Luidaeg.

“For some of us. It’s good to see you,” Acacia said, still watching the Riders fade away. When the last of them was gone she turned to me, and smiled. “You did it. You’re free.”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said, pulling May’s cloak more tightly around myself. “Are you going with him?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Why? He was ready to replace you.” I wasn’t sure what that would have meant for her. I was certain it wouldn’t have been good.

“I’ve taken this Ride too many times; I have no other roads.” She shook her head, looking to the Luidaeg. “Blind Michael is my lord and husband. I follow him.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“Don’t I?” Acacia smiled. “There isn’t anything for me in these lands.”

“Nothing?” asked the Luidaeg.

“Mother?” said a voice behind me. It was soft, almost afraid. Acacia froze, her gaze going over our heads as she stiffened. I turned, watching as Luna stepped out of the darkness.

She walked over to the Luidaeg’s other side, and stopped, pulling back her hood. She looked tired, and there were circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there when I’d seen her last. What had she paid to put me on the Rose Road? But her eyes were still brown, and silver-furred fox ears still crowned her head. There were roses in her hair, perhaps in acknowledgment of what she’d been, once upon a yesterday. “Mother,” she repeated.