Ani’s thinking of Tish so protectively wasn’t unusual, but more and more often, the memories of difference, of awareness of the sisters’ dissimilarities, had become central in Ani’s dreams.

“She is well? Your sister?” Rae asked, drawing Ani’s attention away from the memory.

Ani turned to face Rae. “Yeah, Tish is good. I miss her.”

“And you? Are you well?” Rae materialized a sofa that was reminiscent of one from her own long-gone sitting room.

Ani sat on the arm of the sofa, balanced there with no effort. Even in dreams, Ani had innate animal grace.

“I’m mostly okay.” Ani’s gaze skittered away from Rae.

Her words weren’t a lie; if they were, the Hound wouldn’t be able to speak them. Even here. They were together in a dream, but because Rae was a dreamwalker, this, too, was a sort of reality. And some rules, faery rules, are inescapable in every reality.

“Mostly okay?” Rae envisioned a nice cup of tea and a tray of finger sandwiches, pastries, and other assorted treats. In dreams, she could adjust the world around her, so the imagined treats appeared as quickly as the thought had. “Scone?”

Absently, Ani took one. “It’s weird to dream about eating.”

“You needed comfort, so you dreamed of food,” Rae said. Unlike faeries, Rae could lie at will. “You were stressed over thinking about your sister. It makes sense.”

The Hound slid from the arm of the sofa into the seat. “I guess.”

As Ani sat silently and ate, Rae enjoyed the semblance of normalcy. If Ani realized Rae wasn’t a figment of her imagination, they’d stop talking, but Rae had been visiting her dreams since Ani was a child. Ani rationalized Rae’s presence.

“I think I’m lonely.” Ani pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her. “Plus, being apart from Tish is… wrong. What if she needs me? What if—”

“Is she alone?”

“No, but still…” Ani’s voice drifted off as distorted images from her fears formed around them.

A faceless faery reached for Tish.

Hands covered in blood swung at Rabbit.

Ani’s mother, Jillian, lay dead outside a cupboard.

Ani was trapped behind a too-small barrier as a faceless faery reached for her.

Unlike the tea and food, these weren’t things Rae created. They were the terrors of Ani’s imaginings. Here, where Ani felt safe, she envisioned a mix of memories and fears. Rae could alter reality, but the dreamer’s mind also held sway.

“These aren’t real memories,” Rae reminded. “This is not what happened. You don’t even know—”

“She was there, and then she was gone.” Ani glared at Rae. “There was a monster. There had to be. He took her and… did something. Hurt her. Killed her. He had to have. If she was alive, she’d have come home. She wouldn’t have left us. She loved us.”

“You’re a creature that creates fear in others, not one who should dwell in it.” Rae concentrated on remaking the landscape around her. She removed the faceless faery, the dead mother, and the trembling girls. She wiped it all away, and—hopefully—Ani’s fear with it. “Tell me about your court. Think about that. Tell me how things go with the Hunt.”

“I rode again. The wolves were at our feet; the steeds were like shadows…. It’s perfect when it happens. I want it always like that…. I want a steed; I want to be stronger; I want… oh… I want everything.” Ani’s eyes glimmered the strange green of the Hunt’s beasts. Despite her mixed parentage, she was meant to be among faeries; it had been obvious to Rae since she first met the girl.

Ani had no awareness of the vows they’d made and broken so Ani could live. Rae did. She remembered it each time Devlin refused to talk about the Hound, each time he refused to go check on her. They’d spared Ani. The time was coming when they’d have to deal with the inevitable consequences.

Rae reached out and squeezed Ani’s hand. In the dream- scape where Rae walked, she could do that, touch another body. “You’re too impatient.”

Ani pointed at herself. “Hound. What do you expect?”

“Exactly what you are,” Rae said.

Ani wandered into the dreamscape. To her, this was just another dream where her mind worked through fears and worries. And, just then, Ani didn’t want to work through them—so she walked away.

Rae followed in what was now a vast shadowed forest.

Time was running out, and neither Devlin nor Ani was any closer to finding their rightful places. And I can’t tell them without undoing everything.

From the depths of the forest, wolves’ songs rose. A space between the trees opened up, and as Rae walked she could hear the pad of their feet on the needle-covered trail. Rae shuddered as the wolves drew near. Beside her, Ani sighed: the wolves were a comfort to her.

Ani spun to face Rae and blurted, “Do you think the monster was High Court? They hate my court. They steal halflings. They are monsters.”

“Monsters are called such by those who are doing the naming.” Rae tensed as a sulfurous green glow illuminated all of the wolves’ eyes in the forest. “Mortals write stories of the beauty of Faerie, of the delicate fey creatures of other courts, and your court’s creatures are the fiends.”

“He wasn’t my court. That’s for sure.” Ani crouched on the path and the wolves began to slip from among the woods. Their muzzles butted against Ani and Rae. Furred sides brushed against them. Howls rose into a cacophony.

Ani opened her arms to the wolves. The creatures began circling them in a blur of white teeth and green eyes, musky fur and growling throats. They ran faster and faster, pressing against Ani.

Rae visualized herself outside the circle, at a far distance up the path.

One by one, each wolf dove into the center of Ani and disappeared there. They were a part of her, the part that would wake and change the world.

If. That was the worst part of knowing: the knowledge that the future Rae so desperately wanted was only an “if.” She didn’t know what the other possibilities were, but she did know that the future she had glimpsed was one she wanted, one where she would have autonomy for the first time. Please, Ani.

“I hope you are able to forgive him,” Rae whispered. “He’s not a monster. Neither are you.”

And then she was gone from Ani’s mind.

After being in the dream forest, her cave felt even more restrictive. Rae paced around the perimeter, counting out steps as if the murmuring of numbers would make the small space seem somehow larger. It didn’t work.

Darkness, the time of dreams, was Rae’s rightful place, but the past few weeks, Sorcha had insisted that there were but a few dark hours in Faerie. The moon did not go through normal phases; instead, it almost always stayed full in the sky, casting silvered light over them as if they were caught in one endless day. And without the dark, Rae was caught, trapped in the small cave that was her prison.

“Rae?” Devlin was in the doorway of the cave. The light from outside shone around him, illuminating him and adding to his otherworldly appearance. His coarse white hair, loosened from restraints, offset the harshness of his features a little, but not so much that the sharp angles of his cheeks looked human.

“You’re here.” Rae shifted her attire to match Devlin’s more formal garb. Her dress was pale rose with a hem that swept the ground, and although the waist was narrow, the bodice was demure. Her almost floor-length hair was swept up with gilt combs. The only ornament beyond her combs was a black band around her throat that held a cameo. If Devlin looked closely, he’d see that it was his image in the ivory.

The stern set of his mouth softened. “You need not change for me.”

“I know,” she lied. She did need to change if it brought her the smile she’d sought. His stress was heavy enough that his straightened shoulders were rigid with it.