An Artificial Night

behind it hadn’t been changed. Not all the way; not yet. I crept closer, whispering, “Hello?”

There was a pause. Then a too familiar voice said, “Hhello.”

Oh, oak and ash. “Katie?”

“Yes?” She sounded distracted. I’d have been distracted too, if I’d been kidnapped by a madman intent on turning me into a horse.

“How did you get here?” I saved you, I thought, I know I saved you …

“Quentin said we needed to move. He took me outside and then …” There was no emotion in the words; it was like she was reading from a script. Something inside of her had broken. “They brought me here again.”

“I’ll get you out. Don’t worry.” I cursed myself for a liar even as I spoke. I failed to keep her safe once; what made me think I could do it now? And then there was Quentin. Where was he? When they came for Katie, had they taken him too?

At least the others were safe in Shadowed Hills; the Riders couldn’t enter Luna’s domain. But Mitch and Stacy’s kids, Tybalt’s kids—oh, oak and ash. “Katie, were you the only one?”

“They said I hadn’t been bargained for. What did they mean?” A note of hysteria was creeping into her voice. “You said I could go home! What’s happening to me?!”

Blind Michael had broken my spell. It dulled her pain, and he wanted her to hurt. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” I’d lied to her already. What was once more?

She didn’t answer. “Katie?” I glanced to my candle. At the rate it was shrinking I had six hours left; maybe less. Not enough time. “Katie, I’ll be back.” There was still no answer, and finally I stood and walked away. There was nothing else I could do.

Good luck always runs out. I shouldn’t have been surprised when rough hands grabbed me from behind as I left the stable, yanking me into the shadows. I struggled, trying to break free, and was rewarded with a sharp slap upside the head.

“Hush, mongrel,” hissed a voice. “We’re taking you to Him.”

My candle was burning an angry red, warning me, but it was too late; I was caught. They dragged me through the village, the mists rolling back before us, and into a broad clearing filled with Riders and misshapen children. The children laughed and shouted, dancing around a vast bonfire that painted the sky with lashes of crimson and gold. We kept going, past the shrieks and laughter, until we reached the open space in front of the fire. Then the Riders who held my shoulders released me, fading back into the crowd. I stumbled and looked up, already knowing what was there, already afraid to see it.

Blind Michael was seated on a throne made of ivory, amusement in his sightless face as he turned toward me. “So,” he said. “You’ve returned.”

“You cheated,” I snapped. One day I’ll learn when to hold my tongue. “You said I could free Mitch and Stacy’s kids. You didn’t tell me you had Karen.”

He leaned back. “So did you. You took children I’d not agreed to lose.”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“I never said I’d tell you what children I had, or that I wouldn’t take back the ones you didn’t bargain for. The children you won fairly are yours, the others are mine if I want them.” He smiled. I shuddered. There were things in that smile I never wanted to know the names for. “Of course, we could always make another bargain. I enjoyed our last one.”

“What do you want?” I asked. “You can’t keep me here. I have the Luidaeg’s blessing.”

“Oh, I know. My subjects were—enthusiastic—in bringing you. I apologize.” I somehow doubted anyone was going to be punished for their enthusiasm. “As long as you hold my sister’s candle, you may leave at any time. But.”

“But?” I echoed. There was a catch. Of course there was a catch.

“You leave without this.” He pulled a familiar crystal sphere out of his vest, holding it up to show me the struggling butterfly trapped inside. “Isn’t she lovely? She brushed past me in the night, and I took her. How long will she last, I wonder?”

Karen. Oh, root and branch, Karen. “Let her go!”

“Stay with me.”

I froze, staring at him. “What?”

He smiled again. “Put down your candle. Stay with me. You don’t have time to save her and escape, but if you’ll stay of your own free will, I’ll let her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you tricked me once; that impressed me, but I’m not leaving you free to do it again. Because your existence offends me, daughter of Amandine.” He spun the sphere, making the butterfly fan its wings in a frantic attempt to stay upright. “You stay. She goes.”

“And Katie?”

“You have no claim to her.” He shook his head. “Sacrifice yourself to save one, or lose both. The choice is yours, daughter of Amandine. You haven’t got that much time left.”

I looked down at my candle. He was right: time was slipping away, and I wasn’t sure I could make it out alone, much less with my kids. Damn it. Forgive me, Luidaeg, but you were right. I really did run away to die.

“I see,” I said, looking up.

Blind Michael smiled. “Will you make the trade?”

I shivered, taking another look at my candle. It wouldn’t burn forever; if I stalled too long I’d be trapped, and Karen would be trapped with me. If I took his bargain, at least one of us would get away.

I didn’t mean to fail anyone; I didn’t mean to leave Katie behind. At least she’d forget that she’d ever been anything but a horse in a madman’s stable, and Quentin was young—he’d have outlived her no matter what happened. Loving a mortal is never wise. You get burned every time. He was just going to have to learn that lesson a little earlier than I did.

I knew I was justifying what I was going to do. I didn’t care. There was no other way.

“If I stay,” I said, slowly, “you’ll let Karen go. No tricks, right?”

“Of course,” he said, offended. “My word is my bond. Am I not born of Faerie?”

That was the thing. He was born of Faerie, a Faerie so old only the Firstborn remembered it. Our word has always been our bond, and his blood was older than mine. His word would be more binding. “Promise me,” I said.

“If I promise, you stay. You will join my Hunt and belong to me, forever.”

One last chance. I could still say no; I could run away and come back to save them all, if I truly believed I could still get there and back by a candle’s light. The wax was melting faster all the time, running down and coating my fingers. How many miles to Babylon?

Too many.

“If you promise, I’ll stay,” I said. “You have my word.”

“That is all I need.” Blind Michael stood, giving a short, mocking bow. “By my mother’s blood and my father’s bones, I promise,” he said, in a singsong voice that echoed back and forth until it filled the world. I shivered where I stood, wanting to run. Too little and too late, by far. I’d given up my chance, and I was going to have to live with the consequences.

“By oak and ash, by rowan and thorn, I promise. By root and branch, by rose and tree, by flowers and blood and water, I promise this to you: your sleeping princess and her siblings shall be free of my lands, and I will never touch them again. My Hunt will not pursue them, my Hunters will not take them. You have my word.”

His words were ash and dust; I breathed in their power and felt myself go cold. The children erupted into cheers. He’d done it. The promise was made, and not even Blind Michael could escape his own bindings. Karen would go free and I would stay behind. It was up to Quentin and the others to free Katie. The fight wasn’t mine anymore. My fighting was over.

I looked into his face and saw the end of the world. “Your turn,” he said.

“I …” There was nothing I could say. Like it or not, I’d given my word. You can get there and back by candlelight, the Luidaeg said, and she’d been right; the light brought me into Blind Michael’s lands and kept me as safe as possible while I was there. It was my road home, and as long as I had it, my promises didn’t matter. As long as I didn’t let go, there was still a chance.