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“Great,” said Kit. “The artifact can’t fall into the wrong hands, and I have to open the doorway or we have a cosmic blackout. No pressure.”

Catarina picked up the artifact again. “The prophecy could be wrong. But we are best served by behaving as if it isn’t.” She handed the artifact to Kit. “Keep it with you always,” she said. “And don’t show it to anyone who isn’t a Guardian.”

“Who created this?” Kit asked, transferring the artifact to the inside pocket of his jacket. “Who made this whole scavenger hunt?”

“Mother Hawthorn of the wild fey, who I am sure you know and dislike,” said Catarina. “She adored the First Heir and wished her to return to Faerie. All Auraline’s life, she hoped Auraline would use the path. But she never did.”

Kit thought of the last time he’d seen Mother Hawthorn, when she’d returned Mina to him. He’d never told anyone what she’d said to him, and he wasn’t about to start.

“Does Mother Hawthorn know that we’re trying to find the way into Faerie now?” Ty inquired.

“Just before the doors to Faerie closed, she was able to let us know that it was time for the path to be used, and for each Guardian to take their station,” said Catarina, looking at Kit. “She mentioned that she had reached out to you as well, to let you know this time was coming.”

Kit thought of the acorns spread across the grass outside Cirenworth. It is beginning. Trust a faerie to think that was a helpful and instructive message.

“Not in any useful way,” Kit said. “I didn’t know it was her, either.”

Catarina shrugged eloquently. “We can no longer communicate with her now, nor she with us,” she added. “It’s a shame. She was meant to be available to guide and warn. You will be even more on your own than you were supposed to be. I would go with you if I could, but it’s impossible. I suppose I’ll try to find the best place I can be useful now. Perhaps New York or Los Angeles.”

“I don’t think we’ll miss Mother Hawthorn,” Kit said; he had despised her since she had threatened Mina’s safety in an attempt to force him to go with her to Faerie. He wished this quest had been set up by anyone but Mother Hawthorn, but it didn’t seem like the universe was taking his preferences into account these days.

His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against the table. “So we have to collect the rest of the artifacts—”

“In a specific order, yes,” Catarina interrupted.

“But you don’t know where we’re going next?”

Catarina only reached into her coat and withdrew a small cream envelope, sealed in red wax. She passed it across the table. Ty opened it and glanced at the contents. He frowned.

“This is just scribbles,” he said. “I don’t know the language.”

“Neither do I,” said Catarina. “Give it to Kit.”

Ty handed the envelope to Kit without a word. Inside was a card bearing an address in Bruges, etched in elegant script. Beneath it, a scrawled note: Take a train from Centraal Station tomorrow morning.

“Bruges,” said Kit.

Ty’s eyebrows went up like two black wings. “You can read it?”

“It is legible only to the Heir.” Catarina looked pleased, as if Kit had passed another test. “Don’t tell me what it says,” she added, rising to her feet. “It’s better if I don’t know. In case.” As she gazed down at the two boys, Kit saw her expression soften. A look passed across her face—regret, perhaps, or sadness. “Good luck,” she said. “More may depend on you than you can imagine.”

She turned and walked out of the café. Ty and Kit watched her go, the soles of her red shoes flashing like traffic lights through the mist. Something about the sight of her leaving deepened Kit’s uneasiness. It wasn’t that Catarina didn’t want to help them or stay with them, he thought. It was that she clearly felt she couldn’t. For whatever reason, they were on their own.

On their own, but together. Kit turned to Ty, who had been drinking his milkshake and had some on his upper lip. “Well,” Kit said, “I guess we know a little more. What do you think?”

Ty glanced at Catarina’s plate, now empty except for a few crumbs. “I think she totally stuck us with the bill.”

“You’re right,” said Kit. “She totally did.”

—

For the first time since Dru’s captivity had begun, Elara failed to lock the door when she left the room.

Dru didn’t know whether it was an accident, a test, or an effort to give her a small bit of freedom. Either way, she didn’t care. The sound of the door closing and the click of the lock was already burned into her brain: When the click didn’t come, she bounced up to her feet, abandoning the meal Elara had left for her on the table (root vegetables in honey glaze), and darted to the door.

The knob turned in her hand. It was unlocked. She pushed it open a crack and peered outside. No guards, and the corridor was empty.

Maybe Ash left my stele in the training room, she thought. Maybe I can steal it back. Get it to Clary somehow.