Lady Limora glided forward with the elegance of a ballroom on holiday. Her hair fell in glossy coils; her gown was traveling-simple but somehow also trimmed in starlight. Behind her came Vivienne with a basket of clinking vials; Mara with a covered tray that smelled like sugar and warning; and Opal,practical Opal, carrying a leather case that thunked like it held an anvil.
“You voluntold them,” I said to Stella.
“I invited them to do what they were already planning to do,” Stella corrected, throwing a little sparkle at the word invited. “Which is to assist you and keep me entertained.”
Lady Limora’s smile crinkled at the corners.
“I did plan to come,” she admitted. “The Northern Luminary is not a place for the unaccompanied.”
“The what?” I asked.
Keegan’s hand brushed mine. “Northern Luminary,” he said quietly. “It’s what the old maps call that stretch of border where the magic meets the Glacial Hollow Forest.”
Nova nodded, pleased I’d asked. “Between Stonewick and Shadowick lies a seam the magical courts agreed not to cut. It’s a binding place. The threshold folds there like fabric gathered on a needle. Witches call it the Northern Luminary. Shifters call it the White Tail Run. Fae…” She tilted her head toward Ardetia.
Ardetia hovered at the edge of the lamplight, hesitant and luminous as ever. “We call it Quiet Ground,” she said, voice as careful as her steps. “Because we agreed to let it stay—quiet. No rituals. No war. No hunting. It is neutral, in word and weight.”
“And cold,” Skonk put in. “Horribly, persistently cold. The sort of place where conversation freezes mid-sentence out of spite.”
“Because it touches what is not summer,” Nova said. “Do not be fooled by the calendar. August does not apply where the Luminary tangles the seasons.”
“Finally,” Stella said, brisk and delighted. “A chance to wear my mink.”
“Please don’t,” Bella said, horrified.
Stella sighed. “Faux mink. I’m old, not evil.”
Lady Limora’s crew set their offerings on the long table. Vivienne lifted bottle after bottle from her basket: glow-tonics for low light, finger-salve to keep feeling, a pale blue draught that smelled faintly of thyme and old snow. Mara uncovered her tray: sugar-dust moon puffs glimmering faintly; blueberry knots flecked with frost-sugar; a stack of lemon slices candied so thin the lamplight passed through.
“If anyone eats more than three moon puffs, I can’t be held responsible for the confessions,” Mara warned.
Twobble and Skonk exchanged guilty, greedy looks.
Opal thudded her case open to reveal… metal needles, each one a foot long, their tips engraved with sigils, their shafts lined with a twist of moon-silk thread.
“Travel spikes,” Lady Limora said, touching one. “They pin a path when the world tries to fold. We won’t be lost if the Northern Luminary breathes on us.”
I blinked. “I love how none of you mentioned these existed before today. I just minded my own business, tried to run an Academy, defeat Malore and then I hear…oh, by the way, there’s a secret ancient winter playground up north just waiting for you.”
“You didn’t ask,” Stella said sweetly.
Keegan rolled a shoulder, restless but steadied by the rhythm of preparation: counting, checking, scanning for gaps.“We’ll take a western line past Spindle Bridge,” he said. “Stay on the dry bank until the birches thin.”
“Past the big mill?” I asked, trying not to think about the way the air there bit already, even in July. I’d been there before I even believed in magic. We’d camped as a family there so Alex could tour the old mills in the area. To say it was riveting would be kind.
Nova nodded. “The Northern Luminary begins where the frost lies thin as lace along the grass even at noon. You will feel it catch at your breath. You will know.”
“Any rules I should know about beforehand just for funsies?” I asked.
Nova lifted one finger. “No true names beyond what we already hold.” Another. “No bargains.” A third. “No drawing blood.” She paused. “If you lie, your breath will frost black.”
“That seems…unambiguous,” Twobble said, impressed.
“And no lingering,” Ardetia added, soft but firm. “It may be neutral, but that does not make it gentle. It prefers silence, and we are not silent creatures.”
Stella clapped, bracelets chiming a little chorus. “Very well. We are sensible, we are overdressed, and we are leaving in fifteen minutes. Put on something warm. Limora, darling, have you brought your polite smile? The one that makes even old borders feel like they were invited?”
Lady Limora’s smile deepened a fraction, which in her world meant thunder and lightning had been added to the forecast. “On.”
