Her own thoughts chided her with dissonant tones, and Lara gave a huff of her own, quiet echo of the horse’s. She couldn’t reasonably hold old friendships against him, and with that half-amused amendment, the off-key notes in her mind subsided.

“Longer for you than for me, I think,” Aerin said. “Ten days, Dafydd. Ten days with no answers, and a week of that with skirmishes along the valley borders. Merrick’s death must be answered for, or we’ll all pay the price.”

“Which is what? War?”

“War,” Aerin said crisply. “The ruin of our people. The drowning of the lands.” Her attention slid to Lara, then back again, and it was with a note of affected diffidence that she asked, “And how long has it been for you?”

“The drow—” Lara looked away, trying to hide her face as a spasm of triumph seized her. War, the ruin of her people, and the drowning of the lands evidently came secondary to Aerin’s personal concerns, which suggested Lara wasn’t the only one fighting envy.

Dafydd, though, gave no hint of recognizing it in either of them as he said, “So little time we wouldn’t mark its passing, here, and yet so much time in the mortal land that I no longer recognize what it became from what it was. A century,” he added, so lightly the long years might not have had any meaning to him. “A decade there for every day here, it seems.”

Horror banished jealousy and its petty triumphs as Lara twisted to stare at Dafydd again. “That’s not going to happen to me, is it? You said I’d be home in time for dinner!”

He shook his head hastily. “No, no. You will be. The worldwalking spell has been charmed on your behalf. For a little while we can hold time in step, one world to the next. You’ll be gone no more hours at home than you spend here, but for my part, there was no knowing how long it would take to find a truthseeker. Even after only ten days here, we’re on the brink of war. A century might have seen the ruin of us all.”

Lara exhaled noisily, slumping in the saddle. “I think there’s too much you didn’t tell me.” The horse whickered agreement, turning with its fellows down a trail that became, as she watched, a broad avenue lined with trees that reached for the stars. At its far end, both impossibly distant and mirage-close, rose a building that looked like it had been carved of moonlight, pale and stunning against the foreground of green-black trees.

“Where did that—” Lara straightened again, eyes rounding. “I didn’t see us coming up on—” Despite her poor riding seat, she bent to look over Dafydd’s arm at the fading path they’d taken. “I should’ve been able to see that a long time ago. Why couldn’t I? What is it?”

“The citadel of the Seelie,” Dafydd murmured. “Welcome to my court.”

“Your court.” Aerin made a sound remarkably like the horse’s regular snorts. “Watch your tongue, Dafydd. You don’t want your father to hear you say that.”

“Our court, then,” Dafydd said affably. “I meant nothing by it. It’s my home, after all.”

“As it is all of ours.” Emyr’s cool voice broke over their conversation, warning that he’d overheard Dafydd’s claim. “You are not appropriately dressed for court, Dafydd.”

Dafydd managed to sweep a bow around Lara, whose eyes were all for the citadel. It glowed in the moonlight, pouring so much brilliance from its white walls she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it as they approached. A fanciful answer, magic, leaped to mind, then remained there, its honesty ringing true. Certainly its lavender-hued light was unlike any earth light Lara had ever seen, and even from the ground she could see the delicacy of tall towers winding their way toward the sky. The path beneath their feet had turned to flagstones, though the horses’ hooves made no sound on them, like they still walked on grass.

“I will remedy that, Father, never fear. And as for you, Lara, I think Aerin can help you.” Dafydd swung down from the horse with more grace than Lara could imagine having, then helped her down and made her graceful, too.

She was unexpectedly stiff as she hit the ground, as though they’d been on horseback far longer than it had seemed. Startled, Lara cast a glance toward the moon, trying to gauge its travel through the sky. It had crossed more distance than she’d realized, pushing the hour very late. Still gazing at the moon, she rubbed her back and asked, “How long was that ride?”

Dafydd hesitated, not so much reluctance, she thought, as struggling for words. “It’s the horses,” he finally said. “They choose the easiest path, and only some of it is … noticeable. We’ve ridden for perhaps two and a half hours.”

Lara turned to him, gaping, and his smile turned apologetic. “The Barrow-lands are not much like your world, Lara. I’m sorry, but I swear the lost time won’t count against us when we bring you home. Are you all right?”

“I’m …” Lara wobbled her head, knowing she looked silly but unable to express herself more coherently. “Yeah, I guess so. I just thought we’d been riding about twenty minutes. Is everything here like that?”

“Rather a lot of it, I’m afraid.” Dafydd gave her another crooked smile, then gestured to Aerin. “She has a sister not much taller than you. Would you like to borrow an outfit to meet the court in?”

Lara held her breath a moment, searching for her equilibrium, then let out an explosive sigh. Clothes that weren’t wet and grass-stained would help her regain her balance, if nothing else. “Please. That would be great. Thank you.”

Aerin dismounted with the same dismaying grace Dafydd had shown. She was taller than he was, and brisk as she said, “We have only a little time before the court is gathered. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” Lara shot Dafydd an uncertain glance; then, at his nod, hurried after Aerin.

The Seelie woman made no allowance for Lara’s shorter legs, striding through phosphorus halls whose permeating glow had no apparent reliance on torches or other obvious light sources. Lara caught glimpses of open spaces within the citadel, stretches where forest seemed to break through china-white walls and become part of the building, but she had no time to linger and wonder: it was clear Aerin would leave her far behind if she didn’t focus on keeping up.

It was clear, too, that she would be hopelessly lost without the taller woman’s guidance. By the time Aerin gestured her through doors to what proved to be her private rooms, Lara’s stomach was tight with nerves bordering on panic. She had crossed into a world that wasn’t her own, a world where time and space bent to a horse’s will, and she had just left the only person she knew here. Kelly may have teased her about not taking risks, but this one now seemed like idiocy. No one in her right mind would have taken the chance Lara had just taken.

An untuned violin’s sour notes screeched through her mind, objecting to her last thought—Lara did, at least, believe herself to be in her right mind. “Most of the time,” she breathed aloud, and cast a glance upward, taking in the room Aerin had led her to.

It soared, distant ceiling edged with delicate cornices that made earthly gingerbreads look gross and squat in comparison. Globes of light, emitting the same soft glow the halls did, swung around each other near the ceiling, shifting the room’s shadows. Tapestries hung down the walls, picked with silver and gold and blue, as though someone had threaded moonlight and sunshine and water to weave them. Subtle patterns teased Lara’s eye and faded again when she looked directly at them, the tapestries becoming nothing more than shimmering imageless cloth.

This room was clearly a sitting room, a public area. There were recognizable chairs and couches, though, staring at them, Lara became convinced their wooden frames were grown, not carved or fastened. The padding was of pale soft cloth, cool colors everywhere.