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She wore a black suit and matching black heels with red soles. Against all the black, her blue skin stood out sharply. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses; she pushed them up to the top of her head and regarded Kit and Ty with a look of mingled annoyance and amusement.

“Catarina,” said Kit, in surprise. He knew Catarina Loss, though he hadn’t seen her in several years. Still, she had once saved an ancestor of his, and that predisposed him well toward the warlock.

“You’re the one who told Ragnor to bring us into this,” Ty realized. “You’re a member of the Order of the Briar.”

“Yes. And I had to do it,” Catarina said. “Kit is the only one who has a chance. This was a system designed for the First Heir, and only a descendant of Auraline can open the way into Faerie. Believe me, I wish I hadn’t had to involve you. Either of you.”

“We have that in common,” said Kit. “Well, I’m here now. You might as well explain how I can get us to Faerie—”

“I can’t do that,” said Catarina. “First, there is a test you must pass. Until then, there’s nothing I can tell you. It’s just the way it is.” She looked regretful, but firm. “This business of the Order is no light thing. Every piece matters—the way you do the test, what can be revealed to you at what point on the path. I’m sorry.”

Of course, thought Kit. Faeries, with their interminable formality. Everything was a game, and every game had rules, and every rule was deadly serious.

Her high heels clacking on the wooden floor, Catarina led Kit and Ty back through the open door, and along the corridor to another room. Inside, Kit realized the room must be right under the eaves of the building: the roof slanted sharply down on either side, meaning you could only stand up in the room’s center. Not that it was the sort of place you’d want to spend much time in anyway. It resembled nothing so much as an attic full of forgotten junk. Broken mirror frames leaned against the walls. There were tarnished candlesticks piled atop a stack of books that had moldered into dust, an old rocking horse with a mean expression, an ancient-looking wooden cradle. At the far end of the room was an elegantly carved door, set with jewels that glimmered in unusual colors: not just red and green but pale white, onyx black, and silvery gray.

“What you need is through that door,” Catarina said, pointing. “You have until the library closes to figure out how to open it.”

And she shut the door behind her, leaving Ty and Kit alone in the room. They both looked at the door, and then at each other, though Ty didn’t look at Kit directly. “Okay,” Kit said. “What’s the percentage chance we spend all day trying to magically open that door, and then it turns out that it was unlocked all the time anyway?”

“That does seem like a joke faeries would play,” said Ty.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” said Kit, striding toward the door. “They’d probably weave a whole tapestry about it called Behold, Dumbass Shadowhunters.” He grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and pulled. “Never mind. It is locked.”

“Now they’re going to find it funny that you tried,” said Ty.

Kit sighed. “Never an easy win with these guys. Okay, so how about we use an Open rune?”

This did not work. Kicking the door, throwing themselves against it, and attempting to unscrew the hinges with the point of the Herondale dagger didn’t work either. The door didn’t budge.

Ty eventually backed away from it, shaking his head. “I don’t think this is supposed to be a show of force,” he said. “That’s not really how the fey do things. I think all this junk is no coincidence.” He started toward the moldering toys and furniture. “It’s a puzzle. Something we’re supposed to solve. And the clues are here.”

Ty started to paw through the junk, tossing aside several broken dolls and a rattle only to discover a repulsive-looking rotted mattress underneath. “There’s a lot of children’s stuff in here. I think it was a nursery or a playroom.”

Kit joined Ty at the junk pile. “I doubt we can look through all of this before the library closes. They seem to be pretty strict about their hours.”

“We don’t need to search through it all,” said Ty. “When you’re dealing with a puzzle, you have to look for the thing that stands out.” He straightened. “Look at the cradle.”

Kit examined the cradle. It didn’t take long to find what had caught Ty’s eye. Almost hidden by a threadbare pillow was a carving dominating the headboard. It was of an enkeli—an Angelic Power rune.

“So it’s a Shadowhunter cradle,” Kit said. “That is—weird, but I guess the First Heir did marry a Shadowhunter. Do you think it’s her cradle?”

“Might have been,” said Ty, a little absently. He was looking intently between the cradle and the door, his gray eyes stormy. Kit hadn’t remembered what it was like when Ty had his whole focus on something. It made Kit forget to breathe.

“What do cradles make you think of?” Ty asked, finally.

“Babies,” said Kit.

“Beyond the obvious,” said Ty.

Kit resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. “Blankets, plushy toys, pacifiers…” He thought of Mina, of the hours he’d spent just watching her sleep, terrified something might happen to her. “Lullabies.”

Ty nodded. “Nursery rhymes. There’s exactly one Shadowhunter nursery rhyme everyone knows.”

“Right. Black for hunting through the night…”

“Look at the door,” Ty said. “I was wondering why anyone would cover a door with gems like that, especially when none of them match each other in color or size.”

He made his way out of the junk pile and over to the door. Kit joined him a second later. He couldn’t help but think of his dad, Johnny Rook, and the way Johnny had described safecracking and breaking passwords to him, as if it were a game of trying to get around the obstacles that had been put in your way to stop you. And what was this kind of test if it wasn’t a series of obstacles to get around?