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She looked surprised. “You’ve been here for a long time, haven’t you?”

“In Idris? No,” Jaime said, puzzled by her question. “I only got here—well, I don’t know when I got here. I followed the Huntsman through the tunnels and they led me to Brocelind. When the Huntsman realized I was following him, he stabbed me. I don’t remember much after that, probably because I was bleeding to death.”

Thais stopped and turned to him, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘the tunnels’? Where were you before you came here?”

“I was in Faerie,” said Jaime. “For at least a month or two.”

Thais shook her head slowly, the gold hoops in her ears catching the light from her rune-stone. “Jaime,” she said. “You’ve been gone two years. When I saw you, I thought you must have spent it here in Idris. I mean, everyone knew you were missing. Dru’s been so worried.”

Jaime felt an odd ringing in his ears. “Two years?” he demanded. “That shouldn’t be possible. The Eternidad should prevent time from slipping for me in Faerie.”

“Well,” Thais said, reasonably, “it didn’t.”

“Puta madre.” Jaime wanted to punch a wall but restrained himself. Somehow, two years had passed in the world while he’d been in Faerie. He wondered if what he’d learned in Faerie even mattered now, though if Thais had never heard of the Huntsman, perhaps the Clave still knew nothing of what was going on in the Seelie Court—

“Jaime.” Thais had dropped her voice to a whisper. She moved closer to him, her finger against her lips. “I hear something outside.”

Jaime tried to listen past the ringing in his ears, and heard it: the hard padding sound of hoofbeats on dust. He shot a sideways look at Thais. “Manuel? He’s back?”

She nodded. She looked wary, tense, but not afraid. Jaime noted that fact to consider later. “I don’t know who else it could be.”

“You said before that you thought you’d found a way out of here…?” Jaime said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. “Where was that, exactly?”

“Come on.” She caught hold of his hand. Jaime had time to notice that her own hand was slim and strong and fit nicely into his, just as she began tugging him along the hallway, heading for a stairway that led down. “I’ll show you.”

8

One Single Secret

Dru stood in the middle of the training room, waiting for Ash.

She’d already explored the room since Elara had left her there. She’d initially been glad for Ash’s absence; she was able to examine the weapons (all fine workmanship, though not as fine as those the Iron Sisters forged) and search through the cabinet, finding only books and papers.

Elara had told her that Ash wanted to meet her here to train, but perhaps he’d lied? Perhaps he just wanted to pay her back for the moment at the banquet when she’d gotten under his skin. Challenged his view of Sebastian. She knew she probably shouldn’t have said what she did, but it had been a relief to tell the truth to Ash and she couldn’t be sorry.

As if her thoughts had summoned Ash, she heard the bolted door being unlocked. A moment later, he was striding into the room.

If he’d been caught off guard at the banquet, there was no sign of it now. He breezed in as he always did, his boots soundless on the stone floor. He wore his training clothes, silver on black, and smiled when he saw her. A cool expression, giving nothing away.

He crossed the room to the weapons. Instead of reaching for Phaesphoros, he took down two swords, slender blades with etched cross guards. He held one out to Dru. “Ready?”

Without taking the sword, Dru eyed him. “Is this a joke?”

Ash looked at her through half-lidded eyes. “If I were joking, you would be on the floor, nearly dead from laughter. I am hilarious.”

“Really?”

“So my courtiers tell me, and I’m sure they’re honest. After all, I can have them killed.”

He was joking, of course, but it wasn’t the sort of joking that brought you closer to someone, Dru thought; it was the sort that reminded you of the wall between you. Nevertheless, she took the offered blade from him.

Ash stepped gracefully away from her, green eyes thoughtful. “I’ve an idea,” he said. “You always have so many questions for me. Let’s play a game. We spar, and whoever lands a hit can ask a question of the other, which must be answered truthfully.”

Dru hid a smile. “Agreed.”

Ash moved into a fighting stance, and a moment later, Dru’s blade clashed against his. The two met with a hiss of metal. Ash spun and lunged; Dru parried. She had forgotten how fast he was. But Dru had trained all her life for this kind of fighting. She adjusted her grip on her sword and when he lunged again, she ducked and rolled, coming up swiftly to kiss the sleeve of his tunic with the edge of her blade. Ash looked startled, but also pleased.

“First question,” she said, breathless. “Why did you throw knives at Clary?”