First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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Text copyright © Katharine and Elizabeth Corr 2018

Cover thorns © Josef Mohyla & Andrew Unangst

Cover design © blacksheep-uk.com 2018

Katharine and Elizabeth Corr assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008264789

Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008264796

Version: 2018-03-23

For Rebecca and Sam, the two brightest stars in my universe

E.C.

For Neill, Georgina and Victoria, with all my love

K.C.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Books by Katharine and Elizabeth Corr

About the Publisher

EO? LEO, WAKE up.’

A man’s voice. Leo could feel the weight of someone’s hand on his shoulder. But he stayed where he was, curled into a ball on his side, trying to remember. The pain in his chest was fading, but he was cold. Cold to the bone. And his mind was full of shadows, as if every minute of his life before this present moment had been walled off by a thick screen of smoked glass.

There was the sound of wood against stone, and sunlight hit his face. He blinked, half-opening his eyes.

‘Ronan?’ Leo reached up to touch his boyfriend’s face. They’d been at Ronan’s campsite together, and then they’d walked to the lake, and Ronan had lit a fire, and then …

And then.

Leo gasped and scrambled backwards, away from Ronan, to the edge of the room. ‘What did you do to me?’ He clawed at the pattern burnt into the skin of his chest, making it bleed.

‘Leo, don’t—’ Ronan took a step nearer.

‘No! Stay away!’ Leo remembered now. The figure of the King of Hearts, emerging from the water. The unbearable, suffocating pain as it took control of his body. And then his sister –

Merry. He’d tried to warn her. To scream at her to run. But the thing inside him had laughed. And Ronan had laughed. And then his sister and Ronan had started fighting, hurling spells at each other. ‘Merry?’

‘She’s alive. Safe.’

‘You tried to kill her.’

‘I didn’t—’ Ronan broke off and dropped into a wooden chair, crossing his legs. ‘I just couldn’t let her stop me, Leo. I had to get away. Even in our world, I’m not,’ his mouth twisted, ‘not normal.’ He meant the world of witches, and wizards, and half-remembered magic. ‘I needed the power that was trapped under the lake.’ Ronan looked up again, and Leo could see the hunger blazing in his eyes. ‘I still need it. And I needed you to act as,’ he waved a hand through the air, ‘a vessel, to transport that power. But even if I hadn’t, I would never have left you behind. I love you. I thought you loved me.’

‘Love?’ Leo shivered and took a deep breath, wincing as the skin across his chest stretched. ‘How can you even use that word after what you’ve done?’ He glanced around, taking in his surroundings for the first time: a stone room, like the inside of a castle; rushes on the floor; a low bed with furs strewn across it. Nowhere he recognised. Panic twisted his gut. ‘Where are we?’

Ronan shrugged slightly. ‘Somewhere safe. Another time. Another reality. Somewhere I can properly exist.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I couldn’t stay in our time, Leo. D’you think I liked stealing from other witches and wizards? Living on the dregs of their power? Knowing that I would always be despised, always hunted?’ He laughed; it was a hard, bitter sound. ‘I was a parasite! At least, that’s how they saw me. The King of Hearts has taken us to a place where I can use its power and the power of the shadow realm. Permanently. No more stealing. But there’s no way back, for either of us now.’

Leo swallowed hard. ‘The King of Hearts …’

Ronan leant forward, steepling his fingers. ‘It’s not inside you any more. I promise.’

Was he telling the truth? The King of Hearts was a creature of the shadow realm created by the evil wizard Gwydion – a malevolent, bodiless entity that needed a human host to exist. Leo remembered being sealed inside his own head at the lake, remembered the suffocating presence that had taken his limbs and mouth for its own. He felt as if he was in control of his body again. But was he truly free of the creature?

His abductor was watching him. ‘We can be together now, Leo, and no one can—’

‘She’ll come for me.’ Leo hugged his knees to his chest, digging his nails into the flesh of his arms, focusing on the pain to keep from screaming. ‘Merry will find me.’

Ronan shook his head.

‘No, she won’t. They won’t let her. The coven, I mean. Besides, she has Finn now.’

Finn, the wizard who’d shown up in Tillingham just after Gran had gone missing? It was true that he and Merry had been spending a lot of time together, but Leo couldn’t quite remember whether his sister had actually been dating the guy. Finn had been there too, hadn’t he? At the lake, that night. Ronan was still talking.

‘Finn will take her back to Ireland and she’ll forget all about her big brother. He’ll make sure of that.’ Ronan stood up, dragged one of the furs off the bed and tossed it to Leo. ‘That’s what you never understood about witches and wizards. We’re selfish. We might try to hide it with oaths about helping plebs and so on, but that’s just a veneer. Even for your precious sister. She has her power. And now she’s with Finn, she’ll have position and wealth as well – everything she could possibly want. To be sure, she’ll grieve for you, for a while. But then she’ll move on.’

‘No. You’re lying, you’re—’ Leo tried to force himself back through the wall as Ronan walked towards him. ‘Merry wouldn’t leave me here with you. She wouldn’t.’

Ronan crouched down in front of him. ‘We’ll see. But in the meantime, you need to trust me, Leo. You belong to me now, and I’m going to take care of you …’

ACK.

Nearly five months had passed since they’d last stood face to face. But Merry would have known him anywhere. Sure, his hair was shorter. And his clothes were different. Gone were the princely garments with the rich embroidery and fur trimming. Instead, he was wearing coarse woollen trousers, a cloth shirt and a ragged leather tunic. His forearms were painted with patterns and symbols, dark blue lines swirling and interlocking. The only hint of luxury was a gold belt buckle, which gleamed with hints of red and green, despite the dull grey light. And he looked older. Wearier.

Still, she knew him.

He was the same boy she’d fallen in love with. The same cursed prince who had been put into an enchanted sleep fifteen hundred years ago and had woken in her own time, still possessed by a creature summoned from the shadow realm. Of course, he’d been a corpse the last time she’d seen him. Actually seen him, not just dreamt about him. His dead body had been lying on the floor of the wizard Gwydion’s chambers, beneath the Black Lake. She’d knelt by him, wept over him, kissed him –

The temptation to run to him now, to throw her arms round his neck, was almost too strong to resist.

But Jack – this Jack – was holding a long, angular knife to Finn’s throat. Finn was on his knees in the snow, panting, his face pale and rigid. Jack had hold of Finn’s hair, and as Merry stepped forward he yanked the wizard’s head further back, making the other boy cry out in pain. The blade was hard against Finn’s skin now, and Merry could see a bead of blood welling up against the dark metal.

Jack frowned at her. There was no recognition.

‘Who are you? And how do you know my name?’

She tried to read his feelings, to use that ability to pick up emotions that she’d gained a few months ago. But there was nothing. Either the people were different here – wherever here was – or the passage through the point of intersection had done something to her. She could sense her magic clearly, running like a current beneath her skin. But nothing else.

Finn whimpered as Jack pressed the knife further into his flesh.

‘Answer me!’

Jack had forgotten her. Or …

Or maybe, in this place, he and I have never actually met.

‘Jack, please—’ She stopped short, felt her eyes widen. The unfamiliar syllables of Old English felt strange in her mouth, just as they had done under the lake all those months ago when she’d confronted Gwydion. Her magic must have just taken over, and her brain switched language automatically. She didn’t know how it had happened, any more than she knew where she was, or why Finn – a powerful wizard himself – hadn’t disarmed Jack with a spell, or why Jack seemed so different from the gentle, sad prince that she remembered. Any more than she knew what to do next.

Merry pressed her hands to her eyes. The frost-laden air hurt her nose and throat. The dense forest that surrounded them breathed out a dark, velvet silence that seemed to suck at her eardrums. Still, with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was back home in her room in the middle of the night, Mum asleep at the other end of the corridor and Leo in the room opposite hers, even the cats quietly dreaming on top of the boiler in the kitchen …

‘Well?’

Jack’s voice jerked her back to the present. She had to get Finn away from him. Not through magic, though: whoever this Jack was, she didn’t want to hurt him.

‘We’re not enemies. We just need your help.’ Merry spread her hands wide, palms up. ‘Please, let him go.’

Jack didn’t release his grip on Finn’s hair. But he did shift the knife slightly, loosening the pressure on Finn’s neck.

‘You have not answered my question. How do you know me? And what manner of creature are you?’

‘I’m not a creature. I’m just a girl.’

Jack looked her up and down. ‘You are not clad as a girl.’

‘Well, I am a girl. You’re going to have to take my word for it. I’m not … I’m not from around here. And as to how I know you –’ Merry paused, thinking quickly – ‘I have a friend who knows you. She’s called Meredith.’ Meredith, her ancestor, the witch who had placed both Jack and Gwydion into the enchanted sleep. The witch who had sworn the oath that had got Merry involved with Jack in the first place. Merry peered into Jack’s eyes, looking in vain for a reaction. Perhaps in this reality he hadn’t met Meredith yet, or perhaps she didn’t even exist in this world. Or maybe he did know her, but he had a really excellent poker face. ‘Finn’s my friend too, so if you could just—’

‘What are you doing here? Were you following me? Spying on me?’

Merry pinched the bridge of her nose; she was starting to develop a headache.

‘No. We’re not spies. I’m looking for my brother. He was taken against his will, and I think he might have been brought here. Maybe a few days ago.’ She glanced at the brooding forest around them, hoping for some sign that she was right, that Leo had been here too. The daylight was fading quickly, and the darkness of the forest was nearly impenetrable. Merry shivered, wrapping her arms round herself; she had two jumpers and a long-sleeved T-shirt on, but still the chill was worming its way into her bones. ‘Please, Jack. I need your help.’

Jack gazed at her for a few seconds. Then he let go of Finn and stepped away. But he kept his knife drawn, his stance suggesting he could spring into action in the space of a breath. Finn sagged forward, clutching at his neck.

Merry edged closer. ‘Do you need help?’

Finn pushed himself upright and staggered over to stand next to her. He was trembling. She took his hand, peering up into his face, but he avoided her gaze. ‘Finn?’

‘Just, um … just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.’ Sliding down against the trunk of a tree, he dropped his head into his hands.

Merry turned back to Jack. ‘Leo, my brother – he’s blond, like you, and he’s wearing trousers, and has this strange mark on his chest …’ She winced, remembering the ugly scrawl that Ronan had burnt into Leo’s skin. ‘And he was with another guy who has dark, curly hair, and he calls himself Ronan, but—’

‘Ronan?’ Jack laughed, but there was no humour in it. The sound seemed dead in the cold air. ‘I know of Ronan. Everyone does. There’s neither a village nor a hamlet in the land that has been left untouched by him and his … creatures. He turns all to darkness and ruin. The kingdom was cursed from the moment he came here.’ He thrust the long knife back into the scabbard that hung at his waist. ‘I am sorry for you. Truly. But if Ronan has taken your brother …’ He shrugged. ‘There is nothing you can do. Apart from pray to whichever gods you serve that your brother is already dead.’ He brushed his fingers across marks tattooed on to the insides of his wrists. Runes of some sort, Merry thought, though she couldn’t see them clearly. ‘You should leave whilst you still can. The borders are closing fast as the black holly spreads.’ Jack turned and pulled something out of the undergrowth: Finn’s bag. ‘Here.’

Merry made no move to take the bag. Jack had to be mistaken. He was making it sound like Ronan had been here – wherever here was – for ages. But Ronan and Leo had only left Tillingham and their own world a few days ago …

‘You must go.’ Jack thrust the bag into her arms. ‘The king …’ Jack’s voice faltered for a moment, ‘King Aidan still holds Helmswick. But Helmswick has been under siege from Ronan and his forces these two months past. The citadel cannot hold out much longer.’

Two months?

‘But – but what about Edith?’ The Helmswick Merry knew of, the place Jack had told her about, had been ruled by a queen: by his mother, Edith, not by his father, Aidan.

There was a pause. Merry heard a shriek in the distance – some sort of animal, or bird. The first living sound she’d heard in this place apart from their own voices.

‘The queen is dead: Ronan murdered her. A few weeks before the siege began.’

Merry stood there, struggling to comprehend. Jack’s voice was flat, emotionless, almost as if he didn’t care. Didn’t he know that the queen was his blood mother? Or was he just as heartless as he seemed?

He swung away from her. ‘The road to the Kentish border lies there. I suggest you take it.’ Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he began striding in the opposite direction.

‘But you’re wrong: the Ronan I’m talking about can’t possibly be the same person who’s attacking your lands,’ Merry cried out. ‘He isn’t that powerful.’ She’d fought with Ronan at the lake and had almost destroyed him – until Finn had got in her way. Finn had been trying to save his own brother’s life; she knew that now. But still, Ronan had escaped and he’d taken Leo with him. ‘And besides, Ronan would only have arrived here a few days ago. Days, not months.’

Jack didn’t respond – he just kept walking.

In desperation, Merry hurried after him. ‘Wait!’ She hooked the necklace out from beneath her T-shirt and opened the locket that was hanging from the chain. ‘This is my brother. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’

Jack glanced at the photo in the locket. His eyes narrowed. ‘I have seen him. I saw him with Ronan.’ He ripped the chain from her neck and hurled it away from him. ‘Standing next to Ronan, as a free man.’

Merry raised her hands and started to back away.

‘No, it isn’t like that: my brother isn’t with Ronan through choice. He was kidnapped! Whatever you think you saw, you’ve got it wrong.’

‘You’re lying.’ Jack drew his knife again.

In the next instant Finn was at her side. He looked ill, and there was a streak of blood on his neck, but he held Leo’s sword – the one they’d brought with them – firmly in front of him.

‘Merry, I don’t understand whatever language he and you are speaking, but this … this isn’t the Jack you described to me. He isn’t kind, or compassionate. Hit him with a binding charm, quickly!’

Merry still hesitated.

‘But we need him to help us –’

‘He can’t! Or he won’t.’ Jack was circling them, looking for a way past Finn’s blade. ‘Hurry up!’

An unearthly wail split the stillness of the forest. Jack swung around, scanning the treetops. Finn grabbed Merry’s hand.

‘If I didn’t know better,’ he murmured, ‘I’d say that was a banshee.’

‘A banshee?’ Merry peered into the shadows around the edge of the clearing. ‘But they don’t exist.’

Another long, drawn-out shriek, nearer this time. Finn shifted so he was back to back with Merry.

‘Are you sure about that?’

As he finished speaking, a creature exploded out of a clump of dark fir trees. Merry gasped and flinched, raising her hands in defence even as her brain clamoured in denial. She recognised this creature. She’d seen it in a school library book about ancient Greek myths. Wide, bronze-feathered wings, monstrous sickle-shaped talons, and the head – the head of a woman, with feathers for hair. Its mouth was open, screaming, revealing razor-sharp, needle-like teeth.

Not a banshee. A harpy.

The creature swooped towards Jack. He threw his knife at it, but the blade missed. Screeching with rage the harpy banked and descended again, raking Jack’s up-flung arm with its claws, forcing him to his knees.

Finn grabbed Merry by the wrist. ‘Let’s go.’

‘No.’ She wrenched her hand free. ‘We can’t leave Jack. We need his help …’

Finn gritted his teeth, but he raised the sword again. ‘Fine. Go on, then. Help him.’

The harpy had started shredding Jack’s arms and neck, scattering dark red droplets of blood across the white snow. Merry summoned two balls of witch fire and launched them at the creature. The seething, coruscating violet strands encased the harpy and it screamed again – screamed in pain, this time. As it flapped around, trying to shake the magic from its wings, Finn leapt forward and brought the sword round in a great arc, slicing the creature’s head from its neck. Body and head tumbled to the ground.

Jack, still crouched on the snow, dragged his gaze away from the dismembered remains and the pool of blood that was rapidly sinking into the frozen earth, and stared at Merry and Finn.

‘You saved me.’

‘Yeah.’ Merry sighed. ‘We saved you.’

All three of them watched the dead harpy for a bit longer. Merry had no idea what to do next.

Finally, Finn bent down to clean the blade of the sword on a bit of moss that was sticking up out of the snow. Jack’s knife was lying nearby; Merry picked it up. ‘If I give you this back, will you promise not to attack us?’

Jack hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Merry handed him the blade. He pushed himself up off the ground and shoved the knife into its scabbard.

‘So,’ he looked at her, the hint of a smile on his lips, ‘just a girl?’

‘I am a girl.’ Merry shrugged. ‘But I’m also a witch.’ She glanced up: two large carrion crows had settled on the branch of a nearby tree, eyeing the bleeding carcass. They were probably just regular birds, but she hadn’t forgotten the crow that seemed to be following her and Leo through the woods a few weeks back.

‘We’re attracting attention.’ She nodded towards the harpy. ‘Let’s get rid of this thing.’

Twenty minutes later, Merry had magically incinerated the remains of the harpy and had healed the injury to Finn’s neck. She walked over to Jack, the pot of Gran’s healing salve still in her hand. ‘Here: this will help.’

Jack peered at the jar. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s an ointment my grandmother made. It will heal the cuts on your arms.’

He drew back. ‘How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?’

‘Poison you?’ Merry shook her head, slipping back into modern English as she exhaled sharply. ‘And why would I be trying to poison you?’

Finn was sitting beneath a tree nearby with his arms wrapped round his legs and Leo’s sword stuck into the ground next to him. He glanced up. ‘If she wanted you dead she’d have let the harpy kill you. Idiot pleb.’

Jack flushed. He couldn’t have understood Finn’s words – and it was doubtful he had ever heard the word pleb used the way wizards used it, as a dismissive term for a non-magical person – but he obviously recognised Finn’s tone of voice. Still, he held out his arms and allowed Merry to dab some of the ointment on to the gashes dealt out by the harpy’s claws. Almost immediately, Merry could see the wounds begin to heal as his skin puckered and pink scar tissue formed: Gran’s potion was working.

Jack winced, flinching from Merry’s touch.

‘The pain won’t last long,’ she reassured him.

He nodded and gritted his teeth. ‘Tell me: are you and Ronan kin? Is that why you speak the same strange language as him?’

Merry stiffened. ‘Can you understand what Finn and I are saying to each other?’

Jack shook his head. ‘I merely recognise some of the words. Ronan’s creatures speak the same way, and I have spent time around them.’ He shuddered, either with discomfort or remembrance – Merry wasn’t sure. ‘Too much time.’

‘Well, Ronan and I are definitely not kin. But we’re both witches.’

‘He is a witch? Not a wizard?’

‘No. Ronan is a male witch – there’s a difference. He inherited his magic from his mother. Male witches are really rare, and they’re usually unstable and have some sort of magical … deformity …’

Jack was looking confused.

‘But Ronan and Finn and me, we do all come from the same place.’

‘But he,’ Jack nodded towards Finn, ‘is not a witch.’

‘No. He’s a wizard.’ More confusion. ‘And no, I don’t know why he didn’t just put a spell on you.’

Jack gasped as Merry spread the ointment on a particularly deep cut. ‘Neither of you dress like any other witch or wizard that I know of.’

‘Really?’ Merry said, trying to appear thoroughly absorbed in what she was doing. ‘How many other witches and wizards do you know?’ The line of Jack’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. ‘There. All done.’

Jack closed his eyes and slumped against the tree stump behind him as Merry sat back on her heels. ‘Now, you need to tell me a couple of things,’ she started. ‘When did Ronan arrive here? And when exactly did you see him and my brother together?’

‘How long has Ronan been here? I do not know. But I do know that he began his attacks around harvest time, and the year is nearly over. As for your brother, I saw him the day Ronan and his creatures first attacked Helmswick. The day the queen died.’

Merry’s stomach lurched. If Jack was right, at least three or four months had passed since her brother had arrived here, possessed by the King of Hearts. She couldn’t bear to think about what Leo might have suffered during that time. She’d seen Jack possessed, of course; had seen him slowly consumed by the King of Hearts, but she’d been able to cast the creature out and had broken Gwydion’s curse. Still, the King of Hearts had survived. Which meant that Ronan had been able to summon it, and place it inside her own brother.

What if the King of Hearts had already taken Leo over entirely? Perhaps there was nothing left of him. Perhaps he was already dead.

‘What was Leo doing, the day you saw him?’ Merry asked. ‘Did he look ill?’ Fear turned her stomach. ‘He didn’t … He didn’t help Ronan murder Edith, did he?’

Jack glanced up at her. ‘No. The queen died by Ronan’s blade alone. Your brother’s hands were not tied, that much I know, but he could have been under a spell …’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot say for sure.’ He sat up straighter, looking about him and frowning. ‘The morning is wasting. I must find my horse. She bolted when your friend blundered into the clearing.’ Jack got to his feet and wandered off into the forest. Soon he was lost to view, though Merry could still hear him calling out the horse’s name.

Finn hadn’t moved all this time.

Merry went to sit next to him. ‘I’m going to try a spell on you, like I did on Leo once. It was so he could understand what Jack and Gwydion were saying. Hold still.’ She pressed one fingertip lightly against his forehead. Finn’s eyes widened as Merry used her power to reach into his mind and share her understanding with him. There was probably a more orthodox way of doing such magic, but she hadn’t learnt a formal spell for it yet. ‘Hopefully that’s worked. I suppose we’ll find out when Jack comes back.’

‘If he comes back,’ Finn murmured, running the tip of one finger across the old scar on the inside of his wrist.

‘What happened before I arrived? Why didn’t you disarm Jack when he attacked you?’

‘I tried to, but …’ Finn shuddered. ‘I couldn’t cast properly. None of the spells worked.’ He clutched her hand. His skin was clammy, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Merry realised that he was scared. Terrified. And that frightened her, because she’d never seen him like this before. Not when they’d first met, and he’d been trapped by a binding charm. Not when they’d found her friend Flo’s body in the woods. Not even when – overwhelmed by anger and grief – she’d attacked him at the Black Lake.

‘Finn, what is it? What’s wrong?’

He gripped her hand even more tightly.

‘I think I’ve lost my power, Merry. I think it’s gone.’

ERRY BRUSHED THE fingers of her free hand across Finn’s cheek. ‘Perhaps it’s just the effect of going through the point of intersection. It will probably come back soon.’

‘You think?’ She could hear the doubt in his voice. And in truth, she was guessing. She’d only recently learnt about points of intersection: places where normality was stretched thinner, where it was possible to pass from one realm of existence to another, if you had the skill. The Black Lake was just such a place. A gateway. Ronan had been able to exploit this gateway to escape, and she and Finn had followed him.

Finn was tugging on one earlobe, frowning. ‘But why hasn’t it affected your magic, then?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps you were in shock after Jack attacked you?’ Somehow, she and Finn had become separated as they passed through the point of intersection, and Merry had woken up on her own in another part of the forest. ‘Why don’t you try again now?’ She stood up and looked around. There was a beech tree close by with shrivelled brown leaves still clinging to its branches. ‘Get those dead leaves to fall off the tree.’

Finn sighed, but he pushed himself to his feet and stared at the tree. Stretching out one hand, fingers extended, he muttered a couple of words in Latin. Nothing happened. He held both hands up and said the words again. Still nothing. Pushing up his sleeves he strode towards the tree and began chanting a longer spell:

‘Iubeo folia cadere, evolare, evanescere sicut aer …’

He repeated the spell over and over, his voice getting louder, until he was shouting at the tree, pressing his hands against its trunk – but the leaves remained stubbornly in place.

‘Finn …’ Merry put her hand on his arm.

He let go of the tree, dragging the back of one hand shakily across his face. ‘It’s no good. I just can’t … feel it.’

Merry bit her lip. What had happened to him? And was it going to happen to her next? Sighing, she pushed the thought to one side: there was little point worrying about it now. ‘I’m sure it’s not permanent. And in the meantime, we’ll just have to manage the best we can. At least you can handle a sword. The way you decapitated that harpy was pretty impressive.’

‘Huh.’ Finn didn’t sound particularly comforted. ‘All the boys in the Kin Houses know how to fight with pleb weapons.’

The Kin Houses: families of wizards where the sons – and only the sons – inherited magical ability from their fathers. Kin House wizards were at the top of the social pile: better than other wizards, and infinitely superior to witches. At least in their own eyes. They were also, in Merry’s experience, sexist and arrogant: even Finn, although he tried hard to overcome his upbringing. Merry guessed the Kin House girls, non-magical and mainly valued as pawns in dynastic marriages, didn’t get to learn how to use a sword. They probably had to stick to needlework. She sighed and laid her head against Finn’s shoulder.

‘Don’t worry. We’re going to find Leo, and get back home, and then everything will be normal again. You’ll see.’

There was a noise behind them. Jack was standing there, watching them, his horse next to him. The expression on his face was softer; perhaps he pitied them? Tying the horse’s reins to a branch he drew nearer. ‘It’s nearly midday. We should leave this place.’

For a moment, Finn’s gloom was replaced by surprise. He could obviously understand what Jack had said. But his expression soured again as he looked up at the other boy. ‘Where are you proposing we go?’

Jack controlled his surprise better, but he pointedly addressed his answer to Merry, not Finn. ‘There’s a cave, less than a day’s walk from here. You can rest there while I seek out news of your brother.’

Finn stood up, shaking his head. ‘C’mon, Merry. Jack’s already told us everything he knows. I can’t see the point of wasting a day walking to this cave. We need to start looking for Ronan ourselves. Leo’s probably still with him.’

‘I would not reject my offer of help if I were you.’ Jack’s voice sharpened. ‘You may be happy to put your companion in danger, or to rely on her protection. But the land is no longer safe for her kind.’

Finn squared up to Jack, reaching for his sword. ‘I don’t know who you think you are, pleb, but I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself and Merry …’

Merry jumped up and put a hand on Finn’s arm, gently tugging him backwards. ‘Finn, please don’t. Jack’s right: we need to get our bearings. This place just isn’t what I was expecting …’ She glanced uneasily at the ashes of the harpy. ‘I think we could use a little local help. We could definitely use more information. I mean, shouldn’t we work out what we’re up against? What Ronan’s been doing since he arrived?’

Finn’s eyes were stony. But he turned his back on Jack, brushing some dirt off his sleeve. ‘Leo wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t stopped you killing Ronan while you had the chance. So, it’s your call, Merry. Whatever you think best.’

Merry squeezed Finn’s hand, then turned to Jack. ‘Very well. We’ll go with you – hopefully we’ll find news of Ronan and Leo. But no funny business.’ It didn’t come out right in Old English, but Jack seemed to understand what she was saying. He led the horse forward and tied Merry’s pack on to its back.

‘Sorrel here can carry your bags. We have a long way to go.’

At some point, Merry had lost track of how long they’d been walking. And now it was impossible to tell where they were. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, in all directions: acres and acres of almost identical trees. Sharp-needled yews, so dark a green as to be almost black, or broad-trunked oaks, twisted with age, their leafless fingers stretching out above the narrow path. Snow lay everywhere on the ground, and as the day waned they all stumbled more and more often into deep drifts. Merry had wanted to use magic to clear the path, but Jack wouldn’t let her; he didn’t want to risk attracting the attention of the creatures, magical or non-magical, that lived in the wood. He even objected to her using witch fire to light their way. Merry, peering into the darkness between the trees, shivered. She couldn’t make out anything lurking in the shadows. But still, there was a vigilance to the forest that set her teeth on edge. Something was watching them; something that didn’t want them there. So, she hadn’t argued with Jack. Instead, they toiled on, hour after hour, even after the daylight was gone.

At least there was a full moon tonight. It had risen high, and was now hanging in the strip of sky directly above them. Merry, trailing behind the other two, stared up at it. She wondered where Leo was, whether he was looking up at the same moon and asking himself why his sister had abandoned him. Tears clouded her vision. She stumbled into yet another deep, snow-concealed rut and plunged forward on to her face.

Finn hurried back and pulled her out of the drift, hauling her upright and brushing the snow off her legs. ‘Are you all right?’ It was the first time he’d spoken for hours. He waited for her to nod before turning on Jack. ‘This is ridiculous. It’s almost pitch-black, we’re slowly freezing to death, we’ve been walking for ages, and we’re not getting anywhere. Where the hell is this cave you’re supposedly guiding us to? If it’s not near, we should stop to rest.’

Jack raised his eyebrows. He whispered something to Sorrel and walked over to Finn and Merry. ‘Do you not trust me? Wizard?’ His voice was low, but the sarcasm in it was unmistakable. Finn flushed and half-stepped towards Jack, one hand raised, before abruptly turning away.

Merry glared at Jack; he shrugged slightly. ‘Finn’s right,’ she said, ‘we should camp here for the night, if this cave is much further.’ Her limbs ached with cold, even though she was now wearing almost every piece of clothing she’d brought with her. ‘I’d really rather not lose my fingers and toes to frostbite.’

Jack sighed.

‘We are nearly through the forest, though you cannot see the edge of the trees from here. The cave I spoke of is not so very far now, no more than an hour away.’ Sorrel snorted and tossed her head and Jack narrowed his eyes, staring into the shadow beneath the surrounding trees. ‘And it’s our only choice: you cannot sleep in the woods. Not if you wish to be alive when morning comes.’

‘I’m pretty sure I can deal with whatever this wood might throw at us.’

Jack bent his head towards hers.

‘Perhaps so. But what about your friend? Would you risk him?’

Merry glanced at Finn. He was slouched on a fallen tree trunk a few metres away, staring down at the snow. Jack had a point. Despite his earlier show of bravado, without magic, Finn couldn’t defend himself so well, and if he got captured …

She wasn’t about to have another person she loved turned into a bargaining chip.

‘OK. Let’s go.’

Jack nodded, strode over to Sorrel and began pulling the bags off the horse’s back.

‘You should ride.’

‘No. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. I can keep walking.’

‘You’re shorter than the –’ Jack paused, cleared his throat – ‘than Finn and me. You’re slowing us down.’ He tilted his head, watching her. ‘I can tie you on, if you wish.’

Merry gritted her teeth.

‘No, thanks. I’ll manage.’

Luckily, Sorrel was standing quietly. There was a saddle of sorts, but no stirrups: Jack had to hoist her up on to the horse’s back. Once there, Merry had to wedge her knees underneath two horn-shaped bits that stuck out from the front of the saddle. She leant over and wound her hands into the horse’s mane.

A howl ripped through the stillness of the forest. Sorrel shied and Merry lurched precariously. Jack grabbed the reins and drew his knife, urging Sorrel into a walk. Finn picked up his and Merry’s bags and took up position next to her.

‘Finn? Are you OK?’

He didn’t reply; just dropped his head and jerked his backpack further up on to his shoulders.

‘Finn?’

‘I’m fine, Merry. C’mon, let’s get you out of this cold.’

He didn’t sound fine.

Merry tightened her grip on the horse. She really needed this day to be over.

Perhaps Jack’s estimate of the distance to the cave was accurate, but to Merry it seemed like one very long hour. A couple of times she nearly fell asleep, nodding over Sorrel’s neck, catching herself just in time as she began to slip sideways. And once she thought she saw a face peering at them from the trees nearest the path. But by the time she’d blinked and straightened up to get a better look, whatever it was – if it was anything at all, other than her imagination – had gone. Finally, the trees thinned and petered out. Spread below them in the moonlight, which now shone only fitfully between the clouds, was a wide, empty plain.

Not entirely empty: Merry could just make out scattered groups of buildings, or the remains of buildings. But there was no firelight, or torchlight. No signs of life anywhere.

‘This way.’ Jack turned right, away from the path that meandered down the side of the hill, leading them parallel to the wood in the direction of a rocky outcrop. He was walking faster now, guiding Sorrel past boulders half-submerged in snow, until they came to a clump of Scots pine. Beyond the pines was a sort of … fold in the ground, which deepened into a steeply sloping channel. Finally, after another few minutes of anxious scrambling, they reached the bottom.

‘Here.’ Jack pulled aside an overhanging curtain of trailing ivy. Behind was a tall cleft in the rock face. ‘It widens, inside.’

Finn dumped the bags on the ground by the cave entrance, wincing and rolling his shoulders back. ‘We need a fire.’

‘I can take care of that.’ Merry tried to dismount elegantly. But after sitting for so long, her arms and legs were too cold to obey her; she managed to swing one leg across the saddle before losing her grip and sliding sideways.

‘Careful—’ Jack began, but Finn was quicker. He grabbed Merry and lowered her gently to the ground. Her knees buckled under her immediately.

‘Sorry,’ Merry murmured. ‘Pins and needles.’

‘You’re frozen.’ Finn picked her up. ‘Let’s get inside.’

The cave was a lot larger than it looked from the outside, stretching back a long way into the hillside above. As they passed behind the ivy Merry conjured several globes of witch fire, sending most upwards to hover by the roof of the cave and keeping one in between her hands to warm them. The flickering violet light cast strange shadows, but at least it revealed their surroundings: a sandy floor in the front sections of the cave, giving way to moss-covered rocks further back. The twisting shape of the cave – from the middle of it, Merry couldn’t see the entrance – gave protection from the wind outside. Someone had dug a pit in the ground that was filled with ash; clearly, they weren’t the first people to have sought refuge here. There was even a small spring that bubbled out of a fissure in the wall before seeping away into the earth. Watching the water, Merry realised how hungry and thirsty she was. She glanced round to locate her bag and saw that Finn was sitting with his head in his hands again, tapping his fingers over and over against his skull.

‘Finn …’

He looked up at her – there was so much grief and fear in his eyes.

‘I can’t feel it any more, Merry.’ He touched the centre of his chest, and Merry remembered how he’d talked to her in the garden back home about sensing and controlling her power. ‘There’s just … emptiness.’

Merry slipped an arm round his shoulders. ‘Have you tried again to cast a spell?’

Finn shook his head. ‘There’s no point. I know it won’t work.’

Jack came in carrying a few branches and twigs. ‘This is all I could find. And it’s damp.’ He glanced uncertainly at Finn. ‘But the spring water is good to drink. It may revive you.’ Arranging the wood in a rough heap in the pit, he brought out two stones from a pouch hanging off his belt and struck a spark. But the fire wouldn’t take.

‘Let me help.’ Merry came to crouch next to Jack. The branches were thin and sodden; even to her untrained eye, they didn’t look like good bonfire material.

They need to be dryer. And much bigger.

There had been a collection of household spells among the books that Gran had given her. Merry could see it now: a blue cloth cover embossed in black. And inside had been all sorts of charms that Merry hadn’t found that interesting. Cleaning spells and darning spells and charms for making your bread mixture rise. There had also been spells for drying clothes and one for getting a tree to produce larger fruit. Some combination of those would surely work here? Merry closed her eyes and tried to remember …

Her power was strong and instant. Before she’d even finished murmuring the makeshift charm, she could feel heat on her face. And light. She opened her eyes again. In place of a few damp bits of wood there was a substantial pile of logs. Flames blazed brightly from the centre of the pile, licking around the edges of the outer logs and making them glow. Merry held her hands up to the fire and sighed as her cold, cramped muscles finally began to relax. She looked at her companions. Finn was staring at the flames, but otherwise he hadn’t moved. And Jack … Jack was busy getting food out of his bag, almost like magical fire-starting was something he saw every day. So far, he’d produced a few small yellow-brown apples, a wooden bowl full of nuts mixed with a kind of berry that Merry didn’t recognise, and a large, flat disc of bread that he was tearing into three pieces. Little enough, but better than nothing. Merry took a piece of bread and one of the apples, got a cereal bar from her bag – all she’d been able to bring since she hadn’t wanted to risk raiding the kitchen before leaving home – and went over to kneel next to Finn.

‘Do you want something to eat?’

He shrugged.

‘Please, try. It might make you feel better.’ She went to get a blanket out of her bag, and fill Finn’s water bottle at the spring. When she returned, he was picking at the bread. She shook the blanket out and wrapped it round his shoulders, crouching down in front of him. ‘Why don’t you come and sit nearer the fire?’

Finn glanced over at Jack, who was eating rapidly and cutting slices off something – cheese? – with a smaller knife.

‘No. I don’t feel like chatting. And I’m not really hungry. I, um … I guess I’ll try to get some sleep. I’m already useless enough without being exhausted too.’

‘Don’t say that: you’re not useless. I need you. Besides, the magic – it’ll come back.’

‘Maybe.’ He gave her a small smile, took her hand and dropped a kiss into her palm. ‘Don’t worry about me, Merry. Eventually I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself. And I’ll probably feel better once I’ve had some sleep.’

‘Well, give me a shout if you need anything.’

‘I will.’ He wrapped the blanket round himself and lay down, facing the wall of the cave.

Merry went back to the fire, settled herself next to Jack and took a hunk of bread and a handful of nuts.

‘Here.’ Jack poured something from a leather bottle into a horn cup and passed it to her. She took a sip.

‘Mead?’ Jack nodded. Merry felt the honeyed liquid warming her as it slipped down her throat. She was tempted to drink more. But the fire was already making her drowsy, and there was still too much she needed to know. ‘So. Ronan arrived in the autumn, if not earlier. And ever since then he’s been laying waste to the countryside. And he’s killed the queen, and is besieging the king, and if he takes the king he’ll control the kingdom.’ It sounded like a game of chess. ‘Do I have it right?’

‘Yes.’ Jack stuck the small knife into one of the apples, splitting it in half. ‘I was only told a few months ago that my parents – the people who brought me up – were not actually my kin. I travelled to Helmswick and met the king and queen, my natural parents. I spent a day with them. One day. And then …’ His features twisted with anguish. ‘And then I watched my birth mother die.’ He hunched over, wrapping his arms round his knees. It was so familiar a gesture. Merry began to reach out her hand towards him. But she stopped, remembering: this Jack didn’t know her. Had never kissed her, or held her.

‘I’m sorry, Jack.’ She hesitated briefly. ‘How did Ronan kill the queen?’

‘He cut out her heart.’

Merry shivered and took another sip of mead. It sounded as if Ronan was working blood magic, of the darkest kind.

‘My father,’ Jack continued, ‘my blood father, I mean – the queen’s death broke him, I think.’ He nudged a stray brand back into the fire with his foot.

‘Has he given up?’

‘No. But his mind … King Aidan was not, from what I’ve been told, an intolerant man. But now …’ He glanced up at her. ‘He believes magic was responsible for his wife’s death. He blames your kind: witches and wizards. He’s outlawed them, ordered them to be hunted down and executed. And Ronan, he has been searching them out too, offering wealth and position in return for their aid, taking by force those who refuse. Some have joined him willingly, eager for gain, although there are many more who have gone into hiding. It is not a good time to have magical power.’

Now, Merry understood Jack’s earlier caution. If both Ronan’s forces and the king’s servants were searching for witches and wizards, then neither she nor Finn were safe. ‘What about the harpies? Did Ronan create them, or bring them from somewhere?’

Jack looked confused by her question.

‘Harpies? No. They’ve always been here. They’re far more dangerous since Ronan arrived, of course. They thrive in the dark magic he has unleashed across the land, and have grown bolder and more numerous. Do you not have such creatures where you dwell?’

‘No. Only in stories.’ Merry felt a current of panic snake through her guts. ‘What about, um, unicorns?’

‘Yes. Not in the forest we journeyed through today, but further south.’

Oh. ‘Mermaids?’

Jack nodded, frowning at her, as if the existence of mermaids was so obvious that only an idiot would even ask.

‘Dragons?’

‘No, no dragons. They were mostly killed by the elves.’ Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where exactly are you from, Merry?’

‘I’m from …’ Merry hesitated, trying to picture a map of England and remember which counties had been around in Anglo-Saxon times, ‘Northumberland.’ It came out sounding more like a question, but Jack seemed satisfied: he grunted, though, in a tone that suggested he didn’t have a high opinion of people from Northumberland.

Did that mean they were in fact in England, just in a different time? Merry wasn’t convinced. Given what Jack had just told her, she wasn’t sure this was a real place at all. It sounded more like she and Finn had fallen into a story book …

A huge yawn overtook her, and she wondered what the time was; she didn’t have a watch, and her phone was dead. Past midnight, probably. Definitely time to sleep. But she had one further question. ‘Have you ever heard of a wizard named Gwydion?’

Jack face darkened. ‘I have. He was a monster. But no one has seen him for years.’

‘Oh. So, Jack, how old are you?’

‘Nearly nineteen, I believe.’

Nineteen? Her Jack had been snatched by Gwydion just after his eighteenth birthday. Had Ronan’s arrival just messed up the sequence of events, or had Ronan put a permanent stop to Gwydion’s plans? Or was Gwydion still alive and plotting?

Jack stood up. ‘I must check on Sorrel. Then I’ll take the first watch. You should get some sleep.’ He hesitated, turning the short knife he’d been using on the food over and over in his fingers. ‘Thank you. For saving me from the harpy earlier, instead of leaving me.’ He nodded at her. ‘I am in your debt.’

‘You’re welcome. But I would never have left you. I …’ Merry paused. Because what could she really say?

I thought I’d lost you …

I used to love you …

At least, I loved someone almost exactly like you …

Jack tilted his head, quizzical.

‘What?’

Merry pressed her hands to her cheeks.

‘The fire’s hot. I should check on Finn. Then I’ll sleep.’

‘Good.’

Jack grabbed the sword and the belt he’d discarded earlier. Merry waited until he’d left and then tipped the remaining nuts back into a leather pouch and took the empty bowl over to the spring. There was one other thing she had to do before she could rest. Filling the bowl with water she took off her silver bracelet and murmured the incantation.

Show me my brother.

The water went black. And then … And then, she saw Leo. He was alive. Her heart quickened and she squinted at the little picture, taking in every detail. He was alive, and sitting at a table, and he was concentrating – she could tell, because of the way he was biting on the side of his lower lip, the same way he always used to when he was studying. There was something in his hand – a pen? Or maybe a brush? She smiled a little; his hair was much longer now, falling in loose waves on to his shoulders. It suited him. He obviously wasn’t tied up. And he looked so much like himself – so different to the way he’d appeared back at the lake, when the King of Hearts had controlled him.

Leo, please be OK …

Leo shivered and straightened up quickly, looking around as if he had heard her. Merry hurriedly waved her hand, causing the vision to vanish. Surely, he hadn’t really sensed her presence? She’d said the charm properly, in full, and Leo was no wizard.

But perhaps, if there was something from the shadow realm still inside him …

Merry poured the water away into the ground. Rest, that was what she needed now. She needed to be at the top of her game, so she could rescue Leo and make Ronan pay. Taking the second blanket from her bag she went to lie next to Finn.

‘Finn?’

There was no answer. Hopefully, he was asleep. Merry touched him lightly on the shoulder, by way of goodnight, wrapped the blanket round her body and lay down.

EO SHIVERED AND reached for a blanket lying nearby, pulling it tightly round his shoulders.

Someone just walked over my grave.

That’s what Gran would have said.

But there was more to it than that, he was sure. The sensation of his sister being nearby had felt impossibly real: as if she’d physically been there in the room with him. Maybe … maybe it meant something. Maybe Merry had finally found a way to follow him to wherever this place was, and now she was here, planning her attack on Ronan. And because their bond was so strong, he could somehow guess, he could somehow know, when she was near …

He shook his head, still slightly disorientated.

Maybe.

At first Leo had dreamt about Merry rescuing him almost every night. She’d show up, sometimes alone, sometimes with Gran, or with Mum and the rest of the coven. There would be a vicious, bloody battle. The details would vary, but every time Merry would destroy Ronan, annihilate him, burn him into the earth until there was nothing left of him but ash, drifting across scorched ground. But over time – as weeks, then months passed – the dreams had become less frequent. Merry had not shown up, and Leo had not been rescued. He swallowed hard, trying to force back the now familiar tide of fear. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was terrified at the thought that perhaps Ronan was right: Merry was never going to come for him.

It wouldn’t be because she hadn’t even tried. Despite Ronan’s taunts, Leo was certain that his sister would never willingly give up on him. He knew she would have tried – over and over – to find a way to free him. Hadn’t he seen her determination himself, on the day Ronan had kidnapped him? He could remember her fighting Ronan, just before Ronan dragged him back through the gateway, or portal, or whatever it was that had opened in the space by the Black Lake. Merry had been hurling spells at Ronan, and she’d almost defeated him. But then something had gone wrong. Leo blinked, trying to recall what he had seen. But the image was gone. He hadn’t been fully in control of either his body or his mind that day. And there had been so much pain …

Still, what did any of it really matter now? He knew that Merry loved him, and she was certainly a powerful witch. But perhaps she wasn’t powerful enough. Not this time … That sensation he’d felt earlier? It was most likely nothing more than the by-product of his increasingly fragile state of mind. Despair had driven him to hallucinate, to conjure up the ghostly presence of his sister when he needed her most.

It was late now, and the chill of evening was creeping in through the narrow, round-arched windows of his room. Leo lay on his bed and tried to sleep for a while, but he couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop unwelcome thoughts intruding. Turning his head, he glanced at the marks he’d been carving into the grey flint wall to keep track of the days. By his reckoning, at least four months had past. Four whole months! Anger swelled in his chest. Four months of living – no, this couldn’t be called living – of merely existing in this place. Four months of waking every morning to panic, to a suffocating realisation that he was not in his bed at home. That he was not dreaming. That the everyday nightmare was, in fact, reality. Four months of Ronan professing his love for him, offering Leo everything he could possibly want or need; except, of course, his freedom. Four months of, for the main part, having no one else to talk to other than Osric, the servant who had been assigned to him. And Ronan, of course.

No wonder I’m starting to lose it. One way or another, I need to get out of here. I can’t wait for Merry any longer.

Looking towards the window and the dark skies outside, he sighed. The day was at an end. He picked up a stone, carefully carved another mark into the wall, then shut his eyes. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Leo gasped and sat bolt upright, his heart hammering on the inside of his chest. Someone was pounding on his door, making it shake in the frame, screaming his name over and over. Just in time, he jumped out of bed. The door flew open and Ronan staggered into the room, clutching a leather bottle. Mead, almost certainly; the scent of honey had filled the air. Every muscle in Leo’s body was singing with tension. But at the same time, he tried hard to wipe any emotion from his face, to stay calm. He had learnt some time ago that it was best not to do or say anything to antagonise Ronan when he’d fallen into one of these … moods. Instead he stood by the table, his hands clenching the back of the chair as Ronan approached.

‘It’s been months, Leo. Months since the King of Hearts brought us here. But still, you refuse to join your life to mine as I’ve asked. You refuse to swear your allegiance to me. You won’t even come to the hall to celebrate my victories. I offer you the chance to rule this land by my side, but you’d rather waste away, locked up in this tower instead.’ He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. Had he been crying? ‘Why can’t you understand how much I love you? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for us. For you. So why do you deny your feelings for me? I know that you love me, Leo. That much you’ve shown me, in the past.’ Ronan reached one hand out to touch Leo’s face, grazing his cheek softly.

Once, Leo would have done anything to have Ronan look at him, to touch him in that way. But not any more. He couldn’t help it: he flinched.

Anger blazed in Ronan’s eyes, and Leo swore silently in his head.

Ronan stared at Leo for one long minute, then shook his head. ‘Fine. Have it your own way.’

Ronan turned and clapped his hands together. Moments later, two guards – human ones, at least – dragged someone through the doorway. It was a boy, about the same age as Leo, perhaps a couple of years younger. His face was mottled with bruises, and there were bloody gashes running across his forehead. Ronan gestured towards him. ‘I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Edwin. He and his family were captured this afternoon.’

Ronan began writing in the air with his forefinger. Glowing blue lines appeared, forming shapes: fire runes. Ronan’s favourite form of magic since he’d acquired the power from the King of Hearts. The runes floated across the room towards the boy. He shrieked in fear, trying to twist out of the grasp of his guards. But it was no good. The runes settled on him, searing his skin, and the boy began to scream and writhe.

It was unbearable. Leo wanted to hit Ronan, to force him to stop. But he knew that it would just goad Ronan to more violence. There was nothing he could do to help the boy. Not yet. He lowered his gaze to the floor, wishing he could shut out the shrieks, and the stench of burning.

Finally, the screams faded into sobs.

Ronan took hold of Leo’s chin and raised his head. ‘It didn’t have to be this way, Leo. I offered the boy a choice. Told him he could serve me willingly, or pay the price. Is it my fault if he doesn’t know what’s for his own good?’ He grabbed Leo by the shoulder, shaking him. ‘Is it?’

‘No, Ronan.’

Ronan took another swig from the bottle. ‘You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you, Leo?’

Leo nodded, his chest tightening painfully. He’d seen it before. Too many times to count.

‘Don’t be shy, Leo.’ He flung an arm out, pointing at the boy. ‘Tell Edwin here what will happen to him. What will happen to his family. Because he chose to defy me.’

‘But he won’t understand what I’m saying. We speak a different language—’

‘Oh, but he will understand you.’ Ronan went and stood behind the boy and, placing his hands on the boy’s head, muttered a spell. ‘Now, tell him, Leo.’

Leo gazed steadfastly at Ronan; he couldn’t bear to look at the boy. ‘He will enslave you, Edwin. He will enslave your mind, and put one of his demon creatures into your body to control it. He will make you another of his servant army.’

The boy let out a strangled cry. ‘Niese! Ne acwellað min cynn!’

Ronan laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Edwin, I won’t kill your family. Why would I, when living slaves are so much more useful?’ He lifted his hand, ready to write more fire runes in the air.

Leo couldn’t bear it any more. He stepped forward, putting one arm on to Ronan’s outstretched hand, pushing it down. ‘Please, you don’t have to do this, Ronan. Please stop. For me.’

Ronan seized Leo’s hand and sighed. When he looked up, Leo could see the desire in his eyes. All these months, and he still wanted Leo. He still wanted him to stand willingly by his side. ‘I would. I would stop all of this, Leo. I’d stop enslaving people in this way, using the power of the shadow realm to control them. If only you would accept me as I am, I’d …’ he faltered, ‘I’d find another way to convince these people to obey me. A less destructive way of ensuring their loyalty. But I can’t do it on my own. I can’t …’ He moved closer, slipping both arms round Leo’s waist. Leo let him, knowing that his own safety and that of the boy rested on his cooperation. ‘I know I could do better, be a more merciful ruler, more … compassionate, if only you were by my side. If you were to pledge yourself to me, once and for all, I promise you, Leo: I would stop all this unnecessary suffering.’

Leo began to tremble. His mind was screaming at him to push Ronan away, to run. But he needed to buy time. So he leant in, bringing his arms round Ronan’s back, burying his head in Ronan’s shoulder. ‘I’m tired, Ronan. I’m tired of all this fighting. I’m tired of being left up in this room by myself, day after day. I want to start living again.’

Ronan breathed in sharply and turned to the guards. ‘Take the boy back to his family. Let them go.’ Leo heard the guards hustle the boy out of the room.

‘So … you’re finally agreeing, Leo? To commit to me?’ Ronan asked quietly. ‘To commit to what I’m trying to achieve here? To making a better world for us, and for people like me?’

Leo took a deep breath in. ‘Yes. I am. I’m ready.’ He let go of Ronan and stepped back. ‘What would you have me do?’

Ronan’s face was glowing with excitement. ‘The binding ceremony. Remember, Leo? I told you about it before. One of the spells I learnt since coming here.’ He began pacing up and down, rubbing his hands. ‘Once it’s done, you’ll belong to me completely. Forever.’

Belong? That was the only way Ronan seemed to be able to think about love. As if it was just a more intense form of ownership.

Leo smiled wanly. ‘Till death do us part?’

‘Not even death.’ Ronan laughed again. ‘I’m not planning on dying, and I’m going to find a way to keep you alive too. To keep you safe. Nothing will ever separate us, Leo. Nothing, and nobody.’

After he and Ronan had spent some more time talking, discussing their ‘future’, Leo persuaded Ronan that he needed rest. Ronan seemed eager not to do anything to jeopardise their reconciliation, or to undermine Leo’s resolve. Eventually – after professing his love over and over – he left Leo to sleep.

But one thing Ronan insisted on doing before he went was choosing a time for the binding ceremony. A few days were needed to prepare all that was required for the spell. Ronan was also keen to enhance its power by holding it on a magically significant date. He’d settled on the winter solstice.

It was little more than a week away: Leo’s stomach churned at the thought of it. He hated the idea of binding himself to someone so evil, so insane. But what choice did he have? He’d hoped that by continually refusing to be in any kind of relationship with Ronan, the other man would be persuaded to let him go, to send him home. But Ronan hadn’t given up. Instead, he’d isolated Leo and locked him away in this tower in an attempt to forcibly change his mind. And Ronan’s patience – Leo could tell – had worn thin.

This was his only hope now: that after the ceremony, Ronan would let his guard down. That there would be an opportunity, at some moment when Ronan was relaxed and undefended – was asleep, perhaps – for Leo to kill him.

Leo knew that he probably wouldn’t survive, either. Most likely, even if he managed to kill Ronan, he’d die with him. He suspected the binding ceremony would somehow tie his life to Ronan’s. He’d seen that kind of magic before: Gwydion had tied Jack’s life to his, as a form of protection. But even if by some miracle Leo did survive, he’d still have no way to get home.

Maybe Ronan’s grip on this world would weaken with his death, and maybe the worst of the nightmarish creatures that served him would disappear. But Ronan had ordinary human supporters too. If Leo ran, they would almost certainly hunt him down, wouldn’t they?

May as well let them find me.

If he was lucky, they would kill him quickly. Better that than spend the rest of his life trapped in this place.

Sighing, he swung his legs out of bed and crossed over to the small wooden table that stood in the centre of his room. He picked up the crude charcoal drawing he’d sketched earlier that day. It was a picture of his home, and of the old willow tree, with its slender, drooping branches, that stood next to the garage. He’d even included his battered Peugeot parked in the driveway. It was one of many pictures he’d tried to make over the past few months. He wanted to set things down on paper as much as he could, to have some tangible record of what his life had been. He didn’t have his phone any more, or any photos. All he had left was what was inside his head. And he’d been determined to hold on to that for as long as possible. But now … what was the point? What did it matter whether he forgot his home, his friends and his family? If he had no future, it seemed futile, to try to hold on to the past.

Taking the drawing, Leo held it over a candle and watched as the flame began to eat into it, making the paper blacken and curl.

ERRY WAS STIFF, and she could feel hard ground beneath her. She thought about moving. But she was also pleasantly warm. It was almost like she was snuggled up against someone …

Her eyes shot open. The witch fire she’d conjured last night was still flaming away against the roof of the cave, and the embers of the fire were flickering, but there was something else too: a faint gleam coming from the cave entrance. Daylight. Finn’s arm was draped across her waist, and he was lying right behind her, breathing softly. She turned her head, peering over her shoulder.

‘Finn?’

He muttered something in his sleep.

‘Finn, wake up.’ Merry nudged him with her elbow.

‘Huh? Merry?’ He squinted at her and pulled her closer.

‘Finn – no. It’s morning. We should find Jack.’

‘Jack?’ Finn rolled away from her with a groan. ‘I thought – I thought it was a nightmare. But it’s not, is it?’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘This is real.’

Merry sat up. ‘Depends on your definition of real. I’m not even sure we’re in a real place. Jack was telling me last night about—’

‘Yeah,’ Finn interrupted, ‘I heard. Elves, dragons, mermaids, et cetera.’ He pushed himself up on to his elbows. ‘Maybe he’s making it up. Or he’s insane.’

‘I don’t think so. But my point is, this place is crazy. It’s not normal, even for Anglo-Saxon England. So maybe the crazy is affecting you, and once we get home again you’ll be fine.’

‘Maybe. But that still doesn’t explain why you haven’t lost your power.’ He sat up properly, wincing and rubbing his arm.

‘Well, perhaps I will. My power’s always been a bit weird; perhaps I’m just more resistant than you to whatever’s happening. Or –’ Merry fished a hairband out of her pocket and tied her hair back – ‘maybe your family wasn’t actually magical back in the Dark Ages?’

‘No, it wasn’t. Our family line only dates from 1483, apparently. That’s when Richard Lombard murdered all the other wizards operating in his territory and founded the very first Kin House.’ Finn smiled ruefully. ‘Right bunch of ruthless bastards, the Lombards used to be. Still are, some would say.’

Merry grimaced. ‘Nice. But my point is, if your family weren’t magical back in whatever year we’re supposed to be in, perhaps that’s why you’ve no power here. Right now, in this place, all the Lombards who exist are plebs.’

Finn blew out his breath slowly, considering. ‘I hope you’re right. Cos this is up there with the day my brother fell into a coma for how much fun I’m not having. It’s like some part of me has been cut away.’ He sniffed and glanced sideways at her. ‘What if my magic doesn’t return? What if I have to feel like this every day for the rest of my life?’

Merry pushed away the alarm building in her chest.

‘You won’t. We’re going to find Leo and get out of here. And then you’ll be fine.’ Finn didn’t look convinced.

But he should be. Because that’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it.

Merry disentangled her legs from the blanket and stood up. ‘I’ll go and find Jack. Back in a minute.’

After the dim interior of the inner cave, the daylight nearer the entrance made her squint. And then she pushed past the curtain of ivy and had to shield her eyes with her hand. A red sun was rising, making the snow sparkle. Jack was a little distance from the cave; he’d taken Sorrel’s saddle off and was rubbing a cloth over the horse’s back. He turned and watched Merry approach.

‘Did you sleep well enough?’

‘Yes. But you should have woken me. Have you been up all night?’

‘I’ve become used to not sleeping much, over the last few months. Although …’ Jack picked up a comb and began running it through Sorrel’s mane.

‘Although what?’ Merry prompted.

‘I may have slumbered a little while. I think I dreamt of you.’

‘Of me?’

‘It was dark. We were sitting on a blanket next to a lake, and I was wearing …’ Jack’s fingers moved to touch his shoulder, ‘a brooch of some strange design. And you had been weeping, because I could see the traces of tears still on your face. And then –’ he raised his hand as though he were about to brush imaginary tears from Merry’s cheek, before dropping his arm abruptly and turning away. ‘I don’t remember any more.’

Merry froze to the spot. What Jack was describing wasn’t a dream – it was a memory. She remembered the exact evening he was talking about. It was the first evening she’d spent at the Black Lake alone with him. It was the first time she and Jack had kissed. But this man standing in front of her now – this different Jack – hadn’t been caught by Gwydion or possessed by the King of Hearts. He hadn’t been forced to cut out people’s hearts for Gwydion to use in his dark magic. And he’d never held her in his arms as she’d cried about her life falling apart. So how could he be remembering it?

The anxiety was back, twisting her guts. She moved further away from Sorrel; horses made her nervous. ‘So, what’s the plan? Did you think of anyone who might be able to tell us where Ronan is, or who might have seen Leo?’

‘There is – or was – a large settlement a few hours’ ride from here. The local lord is a good warrior and has led ambushes against Ronan’s followers. I will go and see him. I hope he will have some news.’ His eyes narrowed as his gaze slid past Merry’s shoulder.

She turned to see Finn walking towards them.

‘What’s going on?’ He looked from Jack to her.

‘Jack’s going to find the local lord – he might know where Ronan is.’

‘OK. I just need a minute to repack my bag—’

‘No.’ Jack shook his head. ‘I can travel faster alone. Stay and rest; I’ll be back by tomorrow morning.’

Merry could see the muscles in the side of Finn’s jaw twitching. He obviously didn’t trust Jack. And she wasn’t entirely comfortable with just waiting around for Jack to return, either. This Jack seemed like a decent guy, but if there was a chance for him to save the king, his blood father, by turning her and Finn over to Ronan, was she absolutely certain he wouldn’t take it?

Perhaps Jack sensed her doubt. He clapped a hand on her shoulder before mounting his horse. ‘I promise, I will return. I owe you my life, remember? We South Saxons do not dishonour blood-debts.’ He unhooked a bag from the saddle and tossed it to Finn. ‘There is extra food in there. Merry, protect the cave, but do not use your power more than you must. Each spell twists and taints the air, or so I’m told, and I fear there are already watchful eyes drawn towards you.’ With a twitch of the reins Jack urged Sorrel into a trot; a minute later he emerged from the fold of land around the cave on to the higher ground of the surrounding plain, and disappeared from her sight.

Merry frowned up at the sky. There were black dots, high in the clear air. Birds, or something more sinister? She shivered and caught hold of Finn’s hand.

‘Come on. We should probably collect some more firewood before we get inside.’

Protecting the cave was straightforward enough. Merry decided to use the same spell she’d cast before to weave a shimmering, silver net of filaments across the entrance, strong enough to resist magical or physical attacks. She made one amendment, though, waving her hand to make the net transparent, just in case anyone (or anything) was spying on them. More of a problem was what exactly she and Finn should do with themselves for the next twenty-four hours. It was the most amount of time they’d ever spent together. And there were literally no external distractions. Even going for a walk seemed like a bad idea given Jack’s dire warnings. After a few attempts at conversation they slipped into an awkward silence, Merry hunched on the floor near the rebuilt fire, Finn leaning against the wall nearer the mouth of the cave, hands in his pockets, staring at the dreary landscape.

In the dim half-light it was difficult to keep any sense of time. As she listened to the crackling of the fire, Merry’s eyelids began to droop. Despite her efforts to stay awake, she drifted towards sleep, her head nodding.

‘Hey.’ Finn’s voice, loud in the stillness of the cave, made her jump. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But I think we should get some fresh air.’ He gestured at the pall of woodsmoke; the cave was large and high-ceilinged, but still it hung in the air like a cloudbank.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Merry waved a hand to extinguish the fire, then pushed herself up, coughing a little. They both walked towards the cave mouth. From the very slight shimmer she could tell that the net was still in place. It didn’t seem to be blocking the airflow, and it was pleasant to be able to see the outside world, even if it was just the gully outside the cave. Merry leant as close as she could to the net, peering upwards. ‘Looks like lunchtime.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ Finn had the bag of food and one of the blankets in his hands; spreading the blanket on the floor, he sat down and began rummaging around inside the bag, opening packets and wrinkling his nose at the contents. There were streaks of dirt on his neck and face, stark in contrast with his pale skin, dark circles under his eyes. His words at the Black Lake came back to her: how many people was she willing to risk for Leo’s sake? Finn had chosen to come here with her, but if he’d known what it might cost him …

He glanced up at her. ‘What?’ A smile ghosted across his features. ‘Checking me out again?’

Merry smiled in return. ‘Obviously. And …’ she hesitated, ‘I was thinking that maybe you should go back. That I should try to send you back.’

‘Send me back home?’ Finn sat up straighter, his knuckles tightening round the apple he was holding. ‘Why? Because I’ve lost my power I’m suddenly a – a liability?’

She recoiled from his burst of anger. ‘No, of course not. It’s just—’

‘Or maybe you don’t want me around now you’ve got Jack back again.’ His face hardened. ‘Is that it? You don’t want me getting in the way?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ To her own irritation, Merry felt herself blush. ‘I’m worried about you, that’s all. Clearly, I shouldn’t be.’ She sat down, facing the cave mouth instead of Finn, wrapping her arms round her bent legs and hunching her shoulders. She was just trying to help him, and all he could do was snap and sulk – well, two could play at that game.

Silence.

Then, she heard Finn sigh.

‘Merry?’

‘Shut up. I’m not talking to you.’

‘Um … at the risk of being overly literal, you did just talk to me.’

Merry gritted her teeth, swinging round. ‘You are so bloody irritating sometimes.’

‘I know. But lovably irritating.’ There was an unspoken plea at the back of his grey eyes. ‘Right?’

‘Huh.’

Finn’s shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry. Honestly. It’s just …’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I slept badly. And I need something to do. Waiting around like this, I can’t stop thinking about Cillian.’

Merry’s heart contracted in sympathy. Cillian, Finn’s poor, non-magical brother, had died only a few days ago, not long before Finn had followed her through the point of intersection at the Black Lake. But he’d been in a coma for nearly a year before that: either persuaded or compelled by Ronan, he’d swallowed some unidentified magical potion, and had never woken up. At least she still had a chance of getting Leo back.

Finn had picked up a pebble from the floor of the cave and was turning it over and over between his fingers. ‘Do you think this is what it was like for Cillian? This …’ His fingers brushed the centre of his chest. ‘This constant ache of longing for something you can’t have?’

There was fear in Finn’s eyes. She moved to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers. ‘No. Cillian never had any power. It must have been hard for him, growing up in a Kin House family, surrounded by people like us, but I don’t think he would have felt how you do now. His power wasn’t ripped from him. He couldn’t have missed it in the same way.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ Finn’s mouth turned down and he bowed his head, and Merry thought about how badly he must miss his brother, how heavily the guilt and grief must be weighing on him. She slipped one arm round his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed into her hair, hugging her back tightly. ‘Talk to me,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me everything about you that I don’t already know.’

‘Everything? It’s mostly pretty boring. Apart from the bits where every now and then some magic-wielding nutter is trying to kill me, and you know about that stuff.’

‘I don’t care. I need a distraction.’

So, Merry talked. She described her early childhood with Leo, their dad leaving them, their mum growing more and more distant. She told Finn about Gran testing her at twelve years old to see if she could be a witch, how excited she’d been to start training, and how painfully disappointed she’d felt when Mum had forbidden it. She talked about how Leo had struggled with coming out. About school and netball and fencing and how she used to dream about being an Olympic athlete. She even told him about Alex, the boy at school who had fallen in love with her, and how she’d messed him up by casting spells on him that she had no idea how to reverse.

‘… and when I pulled him out of the river I got the credit for saving him, but I was the reason he was in there in the first place.’ Merry sighed. ‘He’s never forgiven me. Or I don’t think he has: he hasn’t spoken to me for ages. And I don’t blame him. Some things just aren’t forgivable.’

They were lying shoulder to shoulder on the blanket. Merry glanced sideways, wondering how Finn was reacting to what she’d just said. Would he think it was terrible, what she’d done to Alex? Or would he not care, because Alex was just a pleb, and he’d been taught to think that plebs weren’t that important, anyway?

But Finn was asleep, his mouth open a little, breathing softly.

Probably just as well.

Turning to lie on her side, Merry studied his face for a bit, noticing the length of his eyelashes, the sprinkle of pale freckles across the bridge of his nose, the shadowing of coppery stubble along his jawline. Her eyelids began to grow heavy again, and this time she didn’t resist the lure of sleep.

It was dark outside when Merry woke. Finn was still asleep next to her, but she was too cold and stiff to lie there any longer. Her throat was sore as well – all the talking, and the smoke from the fire, probably. Wincing at the ache in her shoulders, she pushed herself to her feet and summoned a ball of witch fire into life in her fingers. Finn muttered in his sleep, frowning. Merry pulled the bit of blanket she’d been lying on across his body and stumbled towards the spring at the back of the cave.

The bubbling water was ice-cold, but she still gulped it down as fast as she could, floating the globe of witch fire next to her head so she could use both hands. When she paused, she noticed the small wooden bowl that she’d used the previous night to see Leo – it was still sitting on the rock next to the spring. She picked it up, hesitating. Jack had told her not to use magic, but would it really matter if she did just the one spell? The longing to see her brother again was so strong it made her chest ache. Quickly, she plunged the bowl into the small pool beneath the spring, scooping up the water and leaning over it. In the violet glow of the witch fire she could see her reflection. The colours were wrong, though: her hair, slipping out of the ponytail, looked dark brown, not auburn. Her eyes looked green instead of hazel.

She didn’t look like herself at all.

Merry saw her reflection’s eyes widen with realisation.

I look like my ancestor. Like Meredith.

She stared at herself for a bit longer. And then, setting the bowl down, she ran to her bag and pulled everything out until she reached the seven-sided wooden trinket box stashed away at the bottom.

Sitting back on her heels, the box in her hands, Merry traced one finger over the intricate design carved into the box’s lid. Interlocking figures of eight, inlaid with flint, rippled along the edges, interspersed with Celtic knots at each corner. And at the centre, a flint disc etched with the crescent moon. Six months or so had passed since the night she and Leo found the box in the attic – six months of her time, at least. It felt like longer.

Inside the box were the key, the braid of hair and the manuscript. She left the key and the braid where they were. The hair was Queen Edith’s, and the key … Merry wasn’t exactly sure of its provenance, but since it was the key to Gwydion’s tower it was unlikely that Meredith had made it. The manuscript, however …

She flipped through the pages. They were still blank, as they had been ever since Gwydion died. Meredith had made the manuscript fifteen hundred years ago as a way of guiding whichever of her descendants ended up having to deal with Gwydion. And it had worked, sort of. The manuscript had ‘woken up’ when Jack and Gwydion woke up from their enchanted sleep under the lake. It had answered Merry’s questions about Jack and advised her what to do, although often in annoyingly vague terms.

Perhaps she’d be able to wake it up again.

Merry thought back to the blood magic she’d performed – with Finn’s help – a few weeks ago. Because she and Gran were linked by blood, she’d been able to use blood magic to reveal the location of the cave where Ronan had left Gran to die. She and Meredith were linked by blood too. Doubly linked, in fact: by ordinary genetics, and because of the oath. The oath that Meredith had sworn, which meant that a part of her had continued through each of her descendants, allowing Meredith herself to be present at Gwydion’s final defeat.

So much in magic seemed to come down to blood.

Of course, blood magic was dangerous. Merry smiled briefly as she remembered Leo’s childhood obsession with Star Wars. In her world, it was blood magic that led to the dark side: it could so easily be used for black spells, to control or hurt or kill. That’s what Gwydion had used it for. And every use of blood magic drew the evil energies of the shadow realm towards the spell caster, like pins to a magnet, looking for a crack in the caster’s defences, looking for a way in. But Merry hadn’t suffered any side effects from using it. Nothing demonic had possessed her. No fallen angels had shown up at the foot of her bed to drag her into the darkness.

At least, not yet.

And my intentions are good. Surely that must count for something?

She would just have to hope so. Fishing Gran’s obsidian knife out of the side pocket of the bag, Merry held her right hand out above the manuscript and pressed the point of the blade into the soft flesh between her thumb and forefinger. Her blood began to drip on to the manuscript, soaking into the parchment. She started to sing, combining bits from various spells: the hydromancy she used to see Leo, the charm for finding lost things, a memory spell. Making it up as she went along; it seemed to be what she was best at.

After she’d sung everything she could think of, she waited. The blood had spread in splodges across the parchment, but nothing seemed to be happening. No writing appeared on the page, no helpful map. Merry swore and drove the knife into the ground. She opened the trinket box to shove the manuscript back inside –

The blood stains had vanished. In their place was the same spiky writing she’d seen before. The same word of greeting.

Eala.

She blinked and swallowed hard.

The manuscript prompted her again for a response.

Eala.

‘Um … Hello, again. Do you remember me? I need your help. I need to find Meredith, the person who created you. Can you tell me where she is?’

Yes.

Merry held her breath, waiting.

Meredith is in the woods near the cottage.

‘Oh, for …’ She took a deep breath. ‘OK. But can you tell me how to get to the cottage?’

There was another pause. Finally, another word bloomed on the page.

Yes.

Excitement fizzed through her veins. If anyone in this place could help her find Leo, it would be Meredith and her sisters. Hurriedly, Merry rolled up the manuscript and began repacking the trinket box and everything else.

She was nearly finished, when the sound of raised voices came from the other end of the cave. Someone was trying to get inside.

INN WAS LEANING against the wall by the mouth of the cave, his arms crossed. On the other side of the invisible net, silhouetted by the faint grey light of dawn, stood Jack. Merry conjured more globes of witch fire; now she could see he was frowning angrily, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword. There was a bloody gash on his forehead.

‘What happened?’

‘Jack tried to walk through the barrier you created and got thrown several metres away.’ Finn smirked. ‘I think he’s a bit cross.’

Merry quickly murmured the words to dissolve the net. A gust of cold air swept in, raising swirls of dust from the floor and making her shiver.

‘Come in, Jack – it’s safe now. Finn, can you go and get Gran’s healing ointment from my bag?’

Finn rolled his eyes, but he did as she asked. Jack stomped into the cave and glared at the wizard’s retreating back.

‘He laughed at me. I know he’s your friend, but …’ His mouth snapped shut, flattening into a narrow line.

‘I understand.’ Merry patted Jack’s arm. ‘I didn’t like him either when I first met him. So … did you find out where Ronan is?’ Her stomach tensed. ‘Or my brother?’

‘No. I’m sorry. There have been more attacks not far from here, more villages destroyed. But none of the people I spoke to know where Ronan is hiding. They’ve lent me another horse, though, and there is another encampment we could try.’

Merry shook her head. ‘I’ve come up with an alternative plan.’

Finn was back. He held out the pot of ointment to Jack. ‘And what is this plan?’

‘Well,’ Merry glanced at Jack, ‘I’ve found a way of reaching the friend that I mentioned. Meredith.’ Finn’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. ‘I think she’ll be able to help us. Jack, you’ve already done so much, but would you mind lending us this other horse? I’ll try to find a way to send it back to you once we’ve reached Meredith.’

‘There will be no need,’ Jack replied. ‘I’m coming with you.’

Finn groaned, and Jack’s lips twitched as if he was trying to suppress a grin. ‘This will be my kingdom one day. I need to make sure what’s left of it isn’t destroyed by your quest. I brought some fresh supplies back with me; we should eat before we leave.’

Once Jack had left the cave, Finn turned to Merry. ‘Meredith – she’s your ancestor, right? The witch who put Jack and Gwydion to sleep?’ When Merry nodded, he continued: ‘So how did you find her?’

‘I haven’t precisely found her. Not yet. But I have this manuscript that she made. I used some blood magic to reawaken it and—’

‘Blood magic? Again? That’s the third time in …’ Finn knitted his brows, ‘I don’t know exactly, but it can’t be more than three weeks. It’s not safe.’

‘Seriously?’ Merry put her hands on her hips. ‘Weren’t you the one encouraging me to use blood magic before? The first time I tried it, you said I should go for it. Those were your exact words, as far as I remember.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t mean for you to get hooked on it. You of all people should know that using blood magic is risky.’ Finn looked nervously out of the cave, as if he expected something monstrous to suddenly materialise, intent on raining down magical retribution upon them both.

‘I am not hooked on blood magic, and I’m not using it to hurt anyone. I’m not Gwydion.’ Merry took a deep breath, swearing softly. ‘Look, the only thing I care about right now is getting Leo back. And I’ll do anything it takes to make sure I do. There’s no need to be all … judgy.’

‘I’m not judging you, Merry.’ She could hear the exasperation in his voice. ‘Honestly, I’m not.’ He ran his hand down her arm, entwining her fingers in his. ‘But I am trying to look after you.’

Jack was back, carrying a woollen sack plus a larger bundle.

‘Here is the food.’ He passed the sack to Merry and set the bundle down on the floor. As he opened it, the fragrance of lavender spilt out into the air. ‘And here are some clothes.’

‘Clothes?’ Merry echoed.

‘If you are to journey through the kingdom, it would be as well if the pair of you looked less …’ He shrugged slightly. ‘Outlandish.’

‘Oh.’ Merry glanced down at her jeans and jumper, both covered in dried mud and bits of dead vegetation. ‘You think we need to blend in more.’

Jack nodded. ‘The customs of Northumberland are strange to us here.’ There was a slightly odd expression in his eyes. As Merry reached into the bundle he caught hold of her arm. ‘Though indeed, I have never seen such fine weaving, even on the queen’s robes.’ He lifted the fabric of her sleeve to examine it more closely, grazing her skin with his fingertips as he did so.

Merry drew her breath in sharply as Jack touched her. She couldn’t help it. The solidity of him, after so many months of grief and dreams, was a shock. The fact that he was warm and breathing, instead of lying cold and dead underneath the Black Lake. Every time she remembered, it hurt her like a plaster being ripped away too early from a partly healed wound.

Jack had let go of her arm and was holding out a pile of folded clothes. ‘Get changed.’

Merry grabbed the clothes and swung away from him.

Finn was frowning at her, clutching his own stack of clothes to his chest like a shield. Before she could say anything, he stalked outside.

She sighed.

At least the new clothes were warm. There was a long linen shift, a bit like a nightie; a blue, long-sleeved woollen dress over the top of that, and then a green sleeveless over-dress fastened at the shoulders with round brooches and at the waist with a woven belt. It was all a lot more colourful than Merry had expected. The brooches looked like silver, ornately carved into tiny, flowing animal shapes. There was a hooded, fur-lined cloak too.

When Merry returned to the cave entrance, Finn was already there. He looked older in his new outfit, more of a man and less of a boy. There was a sword belt slung round his hips, Leo’s sword in the scabbard. As Finn waited, one hand resting on the hilt, Merry couldn’t help remembering all the fairy stories she’d read as a child, where the handsome prince rescues the princess from a life spent doing housework, or stuck in a glass coffin. ‘You look … nice.’

‘Thanks,’ Finn said stiffly. He bent and picked up an apple and a hunk of cheese. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs.’

Merry didn’t have much of an appetite. She forced down a couple of handfuls of dried fruit, then went to repack her bag and refill the water bottles. It didn’t take long; after slipping the cloak round her shoulders and extinguishing the last globe of witch fire floating in the dark interior of the cave, she was ready to leave.

Jack appeared, mounted on Sorrel and leading a huge grey stallion that apparently answered to the name of Blossom. The horse neighed when it saw her, tossing its head and straining against the rope Jack had in his hand. To Merry’s disgust, Finn didn’t seem remotely concerned. He patted the horse on its neck and pulled himself on to its back quite easily. Then he held his hand out to her. ‘Shall we?’

There wasn’t really any choice. After a couple of undignified minutes spent being dragged up on to the horse by Finn, she was settled in front of him, gripping Blossom’s mane and clinging on with her knees while Finn held the reins.

‘Now,’ Jack glanced at Merry, ‘you must guide us.’

Merry opened the manuscript. ‘Please, take us to Meredith.’

The spiky writing appeared instantly.

Your way lies through the courts of the dead.

Whatever was speaking to her through the manuscript still seemed to have a thing for being cryptic. She read the instruction out to Jack. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

He frowned for a minute or two before his face cleared. ‘It means the barrows. Obviously.’

‘Huh?’

‘The graves of the dead kings. This way.’ Jack set his horse walking.

Finn urged his horse forward too. ‘Ooh, the dead kings,’ he muttered into Merry’s ear. ‘Look at me, I know everything.’

‘He’s just trying to help. And we need him. We don’t know our way around here.’

‘I know, I know. But still, he’s really, really irritating.’

Merry couldn’t help it. She snapped back, ‘But in a lovable way, right?’

Finn straightened up and jerked the reins so the horse lurched forward, forcing Merry to hang on to Blossom’s neck.

Merry sighed, and wondered how many days it would take to reach Meredith.

The next three days were uneventful. The lands they rode through seemed empty of life, though every so often they passed the charred remains of wooden houses, blackened timbers sticking up out of the snow. In the sky above one ruined village Merry noticed large, reddish-brown birds of prey riding the wind.

Jack followed her gaze. ‘Kites,’ he murmured eventually. ‘Crows aren’t the only birds that eat the flesh of the dead.’

Merry looked away.

On the third night, they stopped near some ruins, the tumbled masonry and broken pillars hinting at a monumental past. After a quick meal, Jack lay down and went straight to sleep. Finn was sitting next to Merry, staring into the fire, his chin propped on one hand.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘My family,’ Finn replied, not shifting his gaze from the flames. ‘Wondering how my dad’s going to take it, when he finds out that his only remaining son and heir is now a pleb.’

Guilt whispered in the back of Merry’s mind. ‘But he loves you, doesn’t he?’

‘Oh yes. He loves me,’ Finn replied softly.

‘Then … is he really going to care? Even if this turns out to be permanent, surely the most important thing will be that you’re back home again, and safe.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘My dad’s whole identity is bound up in his position, in magical society. Our family have been at the top of the pile for hundreds of years. If that ends on his watch, because of his sons, he’s going to feel like he’s failed. Like he’s let down every single generation since our house started. That’s why he—’ Finn broke off.

‘Why he what?’

‘Nothing.’ He winced and rubbed the centre of his chest.

‘Does it still hurt?’ Merry asked. ‘Where your magic used to be?’

‘It aches, the whole time. Kind of like … when you feel really starving hungry. But more painful. Makes me feel a bit sorry for Ronan.’

‘Seriously? But why?’

‘Because the magic he was born with didn’t last. So he has to steal magic from other people, but that never lasts, either. Don’t you think that he must feel like this the whole time?’

Merry frowned into the flames. Finn was probably right. And she did pity Ronan. Sort of. But when she thought about everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt …

Some things just aren’t forgivable.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ Finn’s voice jerked her back to the present.

‘Sure.’

‘Are you still in love with Jack?’

‘What?’ Merry sat up straighter.

‘You heard me.’

‘Um …’ Was she still in love with him? ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Right.’ Finn’s tone was scornful.

‘But it is.’ Merry glanced at Jack’s sleeping form. ‘I did love him; I told you that. I loved him enough to free him from Gwydion’s curse by allowing him to die. And now he’s here, and as far as he’s concerned, none of what we went through together ever happened.’ She shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her. ‘This isn’t the Jack I knew. But he still looks more or less the same, and he still sounds the same and sometimes …’ The knots of tension in her stomach got worse. ‘I mean, how would you feel if Cillian came back to life, but he didn’t recognise you? If he looked at you like you were a stranger?’

Finn’s face sort of … shut down.

Merry wished she knew a spell to unsay what she’d just said.

‘You knew Jack for how long?’ Finn demanded. ‘A few weeks? A few months at most. And you’re comparing his death to me losing my brother?’

‘Honestly, I didn’t mean to—’

Finn threw up a hand, silencing her. ‘Just don’t, Merry. Don’t say any more. I need some sleep.’ He lay down, facing away from her, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

Merry stared at his back, willing him to turn round.

‘Finn?’

He didn’t answer.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But grief … it isn’t rational or – or – measurable. And Jack’s not the only person I’ve lost.’ Finn still hadn’t moved, or given any sign that he’d heard her. A gust of cold wind stung her eyes. She got to her feet and went to find some more firewood.

Just after dawn, Jack shook her awake. Finn was standing next to Blossom, waiting for her to mount, but he didn’t speak to her. They rode for what felt like hours through another forest before he finally leant forward to whisper to her, his lips brushing her ear.

‘I didn’t mean that my grief was somehow worth more than yours. I just … I miss my brother. That’s all.’

‘Of course. It’s OK.’

‘No, it isn’t. I came here to help you, Merry, to try to make up for what I did at the Black Lake. You mean a lot to me. But you don’t owe me anything. And I have no right to be jealous of Jack. Jealous of the feelings you had for him. Or have for him.’

‘I don’t have any feelings for him, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous. That was what I was trying to explain yesterday. Very badly.’ Merry gazed at Jack, riding a few metres in front of her. ‘Seeing him alive has brought back the memories of the person I loved. But I can’t be in a relationship with a ghost. If we survive this mess, you’re the one I want to bring home to meet my mother, so to speak.’ She twisted round so she could look at Finn. ‘You. Not Jack.’

For a moment, Finn stared at her, his grey eyes wide. Then he slid one hand round her waist, pulled her against him and kissed the back of her neck gently. ‘Thank God. I thought I was going to have to challenge Jack to a duel.’ He laughed softly. ‘And I’m not one hundred per cent certain that I’d win.’

Merry smiled and rested her head back against Finn’s shoulder. They rode on for a while in a comfortable silence.

Jack, still a little way ahead of them, seemed to be getting slower and slower. He kept turning his head, scanning the woodland on either side of the path, riding with one hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Jack,’ Merry called, ‘is anything wrong?’

‘I do not like this forest.’

Merry looked around. To her, the forest seemed like most of the other woods they’d been through since she arrived here. Damp – chilly – the trees crammed so closely together that, even in their leafless winter state, there was hardly any light filtering down to the track they were following. The still air, heavy with dust, reminded her of something. The forgotten corner of a museum, or an abandoned church. A crypt. She shivered and rubbed her hands together.

Jack slowed his horse until he was riding next to them. ‘I know I haven’t been here before. Yet somehow, if I close my eyes, I remember riding this path, a group of mail-clad knights around me, until we were attacked …’

A long, low growl coming from the trees off to the left made the hair on the back of Merry’s neck stand up. Both horses snorted nervously.

‘What was that?’ Finn was craning his neck, peering into the undergrowth.

‘A wolf.’ Jack drew his sword. ‘Can you ride faster? We must escape this wood before it is too late.’

‘It’s already too late.’ Merry pointed ahead. Not just one wolf, but many – too many for her to count – were stalking through the trees towards them. The animals were advancing purposefully, evenly spread out, almost in ranks. The horses were terrified. Jack still had Sorrel under control – just – but Blossom seemed to be trying to back away and sideways at the same time, tossing his head and rolling his eyes. Finn was leaning forward, gripping the reins and swearing but it didn’t seem to be helping. ‘Let me down,’ Merry insisted.

‘Are you crazy? You can’t – dammit –’

She didn’t waste time in arguing. Squishing her right leg up in front of her and cursing her long skirts, she twisted and slid underneath Finn’s arms and off the horse.

The wolves were only a few metres away now, almost encircling them. Merry realised a shielding spell wouldn’t be enough. She would have to drive them off.

Clenching her hands into fists, she began to sing. A stinging hex, basically. But Merry added more. She wove into the hex the words of a spell to control lightning, keeping the power coiled within her fingertips until the pain of it almost took her breath away.

As if responding to a signal, the wolves attacked.

Merry threw up her hands, releasing the spell. Behind her she could hear the horses screaming and Jack and Finn yelling, but she ignored them, concentrating on the magic coursing through her outstretched arms. She had to spin and duck, aiming the spell, making sure it hit every wolf hard, hard enough that the animal was no longer a threat.

And it was working. The wolves were howling, writhing on the forest floor. Some of them managed to escape, limping away as fast as they could, melting back into the shadows. More of them didn’t. Merry kept going, out of breath, murmuring the spell now rather than singing it. But almost all the wolves had fled or collapsed and she was nearly done, nearly—

‘Merry!’

She swung round to see a huge blond wolf leaping at her, brought up her hands—

Jack’s sword flew past her head and buried itself in the wolf’s chest. The animal crashed to the ground.

Merry let the spell fade and lowered her arms, breathing heavily, grimacing: the air stank of burnt fur.

‘Are you hurt?’ Jack, still leading Sorrel, wrenched the sword out of the dead wolf. He had bloody claw marks along one arm. ‘Merry?’

‘No. Just tired.’ She flexed her aching fingers and looked around. ‘Where’s Finn?’

‘Blossom bolted. I’ll find him.’ He jumped on to Sorrel’s back and rode into the forest.

Left alone, Merry crossed her arms and looked around her at the ring of dead wolves. The snow was stained with blood. When Ronan had killed a wolf back in the woods near Tillingham, she’d buried it – covered it with a mound of roses. But there were no roses here. And far too many bodies …

But what else could I have done?

One of the bodies was twitching; she moved closer to investigate. This wolf was alive. It gasped for air, trying feebly to get back up on its feet. And then Merry saw one of its paws, and froze.

It was a human foot. The top part of the wolf’s leg was as it should be, but the bottom half of the leg, and the foot … Merry clapped one hand to her mouth. The wolf whined again, scrabbling at the ground with its front paws.

I could try to help it – him – but …

Revulsion and fear and exhaustion coalesced into something hard, sitting in the centre of Merry’s chest. Whatever Ronan had been doing here, whatever he was still doing, nothing and no one was going to stand between her and her brother. She didn’t have time for pity.

Raising one hand, Merry murmured one line of the spell she’d been singing. The wolf collapsed. It didn’t move again.

‘Merry!’ Jack was returning through the trees. And next to him was Finn, still on Blossom’s back. He was covered in tiny scratches, but otherwise seemed unharmed. When he got closer, in answer to Merry’s raised eyebrows, he shrugged and said:

‘Brambles. Lots of them. But at least they stopped the damn horse before he threw me in the river.’ His eyes widened as he took in the pile of dead animals. ‘Bloody hell. You OK, Merry?’

‘Yes. I’m fine.’ Merry went to her bag, found the pot of Gran’s ointment and tossed it to Jack. ‘Put some of that on your arm. We need to keep going.’ She got the manuscript out from the pouch on her belt and checked the instructions. ‘Nothing’s changed. We just keep heading through the forest.’

‘Actually, I think we’re nearly at the end,’ Finn said, as he pulled her up on to the horse. ‘The land slopes downwards further on, and I could just see the trees start to thin out …’

‘Then let’s get out of here.’

They rode fast now, not speaking other than to urge the horses to a quicker pace. Finally, after another couple of hours, Merry could see what she’d been straining her eyes for: a cottage, tucked into the edge of the forest, a wisp of smoke rising from the roof. And then the details came into view: a thatched roof, shutters over the windows, a stream winding past the front of the building.

Finn drew the horse to a halt.

‘Why have we stopped?’

He pointed. There, coming through the trees from the left, were three young women. One tall and blonde, one black-haired and pale, one with vivid green eyes. Merry recognised them from the dreams and visions she’d been having for the last six months: Carys, Nia and Meredith. Carys and Meredith appeared much as Merry remembered, but Nia, the middle sister … she looked terrible. Gaunt and sickly.

The sisters became aware of the newcomers. Meredith ran towards Jack as he dismounted. ‘Jack, I thought I might never see you again …’

They knew each other?

Before Merry could react, Nia had wandered over to them. She stared up at Finn. ‘You do not belong here.’

‘Well,’ Finn slid down from Blossom’s back. ‘We’re not exactly from around here …’

But Nia wasn’t listening. She was gazing at Merry, and the curiosity on her face gave way to horror. She stumbled backwards. ‘No! Why have you come back out of my dreams? That path was never followed.’ Shaking her head, she raised her hands as if to cast a spell. ‘You cannot exist! You cannot—’

Finn caught her as she collapsed.

ARYS CAST A suspicious look at Merry before turning to Jack. ‘Quickly, take her inside.’

Jack lifted Nia out of Finn’s arms and hurried into the cottage with Meredith and Carys. Merry left Finn to deal with the horses and followed them. The interior of the witches’ home was almost exactly as Merry remembered seeing it in the dreams she’d had earlier in the year. One large room open to the roof, with a central hearth and three shuttered windows. Sweet-smelling rushes spread across the floor. At the far end, a door into a smaller room, all in shadow – a bedroom of some sort, Merry assumed. A tripod, with a flat metal plate dangling beneath it, was set over the fire, while a chair, a bench and a couple of wooden stools were drawn up nearby. Jack carried Nia into the smaller room; after grabbing a couple of storage jars from a shelf, Carys followed them.

Merry turned to Meredith. ‘I’m sorry I startled her.’

Before Meredith could respond, Jack returned. Merry couldn’t help herself: ‘So you do know each other? But when I mentioned Meredith to you, you didn’t say anything …’

Jack and Meredith looked at each other. Merry’s throat tightened.

Luckily, Finn came in at that moment and asked Jack the question that Merry wanted to ask. ‘Does this mean you could have brought us straight here? That we’ve wasted all this time?’

‘No,’ Meredith replied. ‘He’s never been here. I would not allow him to know where we lived, for his protection and our own.’

Jack nodded. ‘She’s speaking the truth. And when you and I first met in the forest, I did not know you. I owe Meredith a blood-debt too; surely you would not have had me betray her?’ He took one of Meredith’s hands in his and kissed it.

Merry turned away, avoiding Finn’s gaze, concealing her confusion by taking off her cloak and folding it up. ‘I suppose not.’ She had known that her Jack had been in love with Meredith, and that Meredith had loved him back. The fact that he was in love with her in this reality too really shouldn’t have come as a shock. ‘You saved his life?’

‘They all did,’ Jack answered. ‘She and Carys and Nia. They came to our village, just before it was destroyed by Ronan. Told us we were in danger.’ He glanced at Meredith, and Merry saw the warmth in his eyes blaze again. ‘Told me who I really was. Many more would have died without their help.’

‘We did what we could.’ Meredith crossed her arms. ‘So, Jack I know. But who are you?’

‘This is Finn, and I’m Merry. I’m a witch too.’ On impulse, she added, ‘Merry is short for Meredith.’

The other witch’s frown deepened.

Merry pressed on. ‘We thought you might be able to help us find Ronan. Or that you might even know where he is. Because I’m sure he has my brother confined somewhere. I saw him sitting at a table, but the spell didn’t reveal where.’

‘That’s why you think he’s alive?’ Meredith sat down, gesturing that the others should sit too. ‘Are you certain? Too often magic will show us merely what we wish to see.’

‘No. I’d know if Leo was dead. I’d—’ The enormity of what she was saying, of even using the word ‘dead’ in the same sentence as her brother’s name … it crushed the breath out of her. Finn reached across and let his hand rest lightly on her back. His touch steadied her. ‘He’s alive. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’

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