Ash sighed, tilting his head back. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Well.” I shrugged, biting down a grin. “I can’t say anything there.” He glared ice-daggers at me, and I raised my hands. “Do you want to get into Arcadia, or not?”

“Fine.” He made a frustrated, helpless gesture. “Do it. Let’s get this over with.”

“Thought you’d never say so.” I pulled him farther back into the trees, calling my magic as I did.

“Hold still,” I told him as he crossed his arms and tried to look bored and annoyed. “This won’t take long, but I have to weave Summer glamour into the illusion so that it’s strong enough to hide your Winter aura. If you were a redcap or an ice-gnome, it wouldn’t take very much, but you’re you, so this is going to be considerably more challenging.” I felt my Summer magic settle over him, felt it recoil from the icy chill of the Winter glamour surrounding him like a suit of armor, and frowned. “Ice-boy, stop fighting me. If you want to get this stupid favor over and done with, this is the only way. You have to let me help you.” He snorted, and the protective cloak of Winter glamour vanished.

I drew more Summer magic to me and sent it toward the prince, weaving the illusion over and around him. His magic resisted me—say what you want about the Winter prince, at his core, Ash was incredibly strong. He knew who he was, and someone of lesser skill couldn’t have turned him into something he was not, even if it was just an illusion.

But I’m not your average trickster, either.

Ash’s outline shimmered and started to change. He didn’t grow, or shrink, but his hair lengthened, falling down his back, and went from jet-black to the color of wheat. His pale skin turned golden-brown, as if he’d spent a lifetime in the sun, and his cold silver eyes flashed before turning a bright, glittering blue.

His clothes changed as well, the long black coat vanishing into mist, replaced with armor of gold and green, the proud head of a huge stag adorning the breastplate. A fancy gold cloak settled around him, the edges trimmed with leaves, something Ash wouldn’t be caught dead in. When it was done, no trace of the Winter prince stood in the spot beneath the pines. A Summer sidhe waited in the shadows, only his scowl bearing the faintest resemblance to the youngest son of Queen Mab.

I put a hand to my mouth in mock delight. “Oh, ice-boy, it’s…it’s…so you!”

“I’m going to kill you for this,” Ash growled, then winced at how his voice sounded, high and clear. I bit my cheek to keep from howling with laughter. If he drew his sword, it would shatter the illusion, and then we’d have to go through all this again.

“Yeah, well, do it later, ice-boy. Remember, you can’t use any Winter glamour in there at all, or the spell will unravel. That includes drawing your sword and throwing icicles at me, so let’s not start any fights with any Summer gentry while we’re here, okay? We just want to get in, grab the violin and get out again.”

Ash nodded. I stepped back and tossed the same illusion over myself, making a pair of almost identical Summer Knights. Glancing at my fellow guard, I grinned. “Ready?”

He sighed again, raking his fingers through his now unfamiliar hair. “Lead the way.”

The two knights guarding the bridge nodded politely as we crossed, but other than that didn’t even glance at us. I caught one of them hiding a smirk as we passed, but that was understandable, given the circumstances. I didn’t think ice-boy had seen it, but I was wrong.

“Who are we supposed to be?” Ash asked as we continued into the lands of the Erlking. Past the bridge, the heat of the summer sun blazed down on us, warming my skin and making me sigh with pleasure. Of all the things in the Seelie Court, I missed the sun the most. The wyldwood was too dark and Tir Na Nog was too cold; only in Arcadia did the sun shine full and bright, and the sweetest apples grow on the trees over the thorn fence, always ripe for the picking. If you could get past the two cranky giants who owned the orchard, that is.

“Oh,” I said, grinning. “Right. Names. Well, you’re Sir Torin, and I’m Sir Fagan, and we’re two hedge knights who travel all over the Nevernever on quests of glory for our king and court. You know, we right wrongs and slay dragons and search for mythological treasures, stuff like that.”

“So, they’re well respected.”

“Well…” I scratched the back of my head. “Not exactly.”

Ash stared at me. “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Ever read Don Quixote?” I asked. And Ash closed his eyes, indicating that, yes, he had read it. I snickered. “They’re very eager,” I continued, trying not to laugh at the look on his face, “and they do have very noble intentions, I will give them that. But those two couldn’t find their way out of a broom closet without a map. It’s sheer dumb luck that they haven’t gotten themselves killed or eaten by now. They keep begging Oberon to send them on noble, important quests to prove their worth, and Oberon ends up giving them some ridiculous mission just to get them out of his hair.”

“And, of course, these are the identities you stole for us.”

“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” I flung my arms out grandly. “Sir Torin and Sir Fagan are almost never at court, the other knights usually avoid them and we have a reason to go see Queen Titania, to announce the completion of our most recent quest.”

“And if the real Torin and Fagan happen to be there?”

“Well.” I shrugged, annoyed with his logic. “Then we’ll improvise.”

I could tell Ash didn’t like it; he was always the plan-for-anything type, and usually found my play-it-by-ear tactics annoying and disturbing. But he didn’t say anything more, and it wasn’t long before we came to the huge mound of grassy earth that marked the entrance into Oberon’s court. Thick brambles surrounded the rise, though they parted easily before us, letting us through, and we walked toward the side of the hill without breaking stride.

“Anything else I should know about?” Ash muttered as we approached the mound side by side. “Any small detail you conveniently overlooked that might come up while we’re here?”

“Um…” I shot him a sideways glance. “Just one more small thing.” He raised an eyebrow, and I chewed my lip. Oh, he was not going to like this. “Torin and the queen are rumored to be…um…involved.”

“What?”

But then we were through the side of the hill and stepping into a courtyard teeming with Summer fey—the heart of Arcadia.

Music played, one of my favorite tunes about sun and shadows and growing things, and lying at the bottom of a cool stream while the fish whispered to you. Trees lining the edge of the courtyard sighed softly, moving their branches to the song, and the thousands of flowers blooming everywhere swayed gently in rhythm. Dryads, satyrs, gnomes and other Summer fey milled about the open space, sitting on benches, talking, or dancing together in the grass. Yep, I was definitely home.

I could feel Ash’s glare on the back of my head, and knew he was ready to kill me, but the fey closest to the edge of the courtyard spotted us and leaped to their feet.

“Be nice, ice-boy,” I said through clenched teeth, plastering a grin on my face as the crowd came forward. “They’re coming, so smile and don’t stab your partner. It’s showtime.”

“Sir Fagan!” a female satyr exclaimed, skipping up to us. Her hooves clopped daintily over the cobblestones. “Sir Torin! You’ve returned, and you’re alive. Welcome back!”

“How were your travels, Sir Fagan?” asked a nymph, giving me a sly smile. “Did you manage to get the Treasure of the Moonbeast this time? Did you slay the dreaded Worm of the Fellswamp? Tell us of your adventures.”

“Yes, yes,” echoed a brownie. “What happened?”

“Yes, tell us!”

“Tell us your story!”

I raised a hand. “Enough, fair people, enough! There will be time enough for stories and songs and tales of daring-do, but that time is not now.” They quieted down, looking disappointed, and I gave a tired sigh. “Sir Torin and I have traveled far and wide, and we are weary. We have many tales to tell, yes, but first we must speak to our lord.”

“Lord Oberon has left court for a time,” the satyr explained, watching me with big hazel eyes. Her gaze abruptly flickered to “Torin” beside me, and she grinned. “But Queen Titania is here, and I’m sure she would be pleased to receive you. Would you like me to find a messenger to announce your return?”

“That would be much appreciated, fair lady,” Ash said at my shoulder, startling me. The satyr beamed and skipped off, and we made our way toward the gate separating the courtyard from Oberon’s inner sanctum. Summer fey smiled at us and nodded or hid grins and whispers behind their hands. We ignored them. So far, so good. Step one, getting into the Summer Court, had gone off without a hitch. Now all we had to do was find Leanansidhe’s violin and get out of Arcadia without blowing our cover. And, knowing the Summer Queen and her obsessive tendencies, it would probably be somewhere in her private chambers. That was going to make things…challenging.

I glanced at Ash. I could think of one way to get into the queen’s bedroom, but he would probably flip out if I suggested that, so I kept my mouth shut.

“What?” Ash sighed. I blinked.

“Huh?”

“You’re giving me that look,” he continued as we stopped several yards from the gates, which were guarded by two massive trolls in red and brass uniforms. “That look that says you have a plan and I’m not going to like it. At all.”

“Well…yes, I do have an idea…”

“And?”

“And…you’re not going to like it. At all.”

He sighed again, rubbing his eyes. “I think I already have an inkling of what you’re going to say,” he muttered, looking pained. I shrugged.