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Dru tilted her head to the side. “Are you getting seasick? Is that even possible?”

“I don’t like boats,” Rathna said. “I prefer being in the water.”

“You can jump in if you like,” Dru offered.

“I would, but it would ruin my hair. It took me hours to get the ornaments in.” Rathna looked mournful, and Dru took pity on her.

“Let’s not talk about boats, then,” she said. “Why does Ash want me at the revel?”

The river was widening into a darker tunnel, with sparkling crystals glimmering down from the ceiling. Dru breathed in the scent of something sweet. Like jasmine flowers and pine sap.

“He said you had a good time at the last one. You looked happy.” Rathna checked the pearls in her hair. “I don’t remember the last time he cared whether someone was happy.”

Dru worried that this was another game of Ash’s. Had she really ever been to a revel before, and then forgotten it? She couldn’t be sure. She knew he could lie. She still remembered something he’d said to her—that he wasn’t the only one pretending. Did that mean he knew she wasn’t charmed by his power?

“Look,” Rathna said, breathlessly. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Dru looked—and realized that at some point, the dark cavern and crystalline stalactites had given way to the open sky. The smell of jasmine and pine sap intensified along with the scent of cut grass as they sailed out of the tunnel and into the center of an enormous lake, dark as oil under the strange sky.

She had always heard that the stars in Faerie burned in color, not just in silvery white. Now she saw the strange constellations, lighting up half the sky, coruscating in brilliant shades of green and blue and fuchsia.

The other half of the sky was black, impenetrable. Strange, Dru thought, rising to her feet inside the skiff. She was desperate to feel the wind in her hair, on her skin. Caught by the breeze, petals of silk detached themselves from her dress and danced in the air as they approached the far side of the lake.

Pavilions had been erected along the shore, white silk canopies drifting in the soft breeze. Lights glowed inside glass globes, strung between the trees and scattered across the water. As the skiff drew closer to the shore, Dru could see the figures of various fey moving among the lamps, and hear the music: soft and eerie like harp music, but strangely familiar. She was struck by a sudden, bittersweet longing for her sister—she would have loved to go with Livvy to a faerie revel.

Rathna sprang out of the boat as swiftly as a fish breaking the surface of water. She reached a hand to help Dru out, but Dru shook her head. She didn’t need the assistance. Once they were both on land, Dru glanced back up at the sky. She was about to ask why half of it was dark when she realized: It was the wall.

The massive wall separating Seelie and Unseelie. It rose so high that it blotted out the stars to the east. And it was close. She thought of Mark and Cristina, somewhere on the other side, in Unseelie lands, and the yearning to see them, especially her brother, almost left her breathless.

“Come,” Rathna said, tugging at Dru’s sleeve. “We must greet the twins.”

They headed for the center of the revel. Beyond the pavilions, where velvet divans and silk couches awaited faeries tired of dancing, was a bonfire throwing off colored sparks. All around the bonfire, faeries were dancing, each wearing the mask of an animal. In the distance, a massive mirror hovered in midair, reflecting the dancers back upon themselves.

It was dizzying and it was strange and it was beautiful. As she came closer to the revel’s heart, she realized why the music seemed familiar to her ears. It was a tune Jaime had hummed sometimes when he was in a good mood.

Then she saw it: a wooden platform at the center of the clearing, half veiled by draped silk. It had been hidden by the smoke from the bonfire, but the wind must have changed. As Dru moved toward it, she could see twin chairs, high backed like thrones. In them sat Callen and Cuan, dressed identically in brown and white velvet, wearing deer masks complete with golden antlers. Tiny flecks of ink, false freckles, dotted their cheeks.

At their feet was a chaotic spill of masks. Some were modeled after mundane animals: everything from ravens to killer whales. Others were clearly magical: a unicorn with a horn carved from pearl, a cockatrice with ruby eyes.

“Choose a mask,” said Callen, lounging annoyingly. “There are two of each kind. Once you have made your selection, you must enter the dancing, where you will find your match.”

“It’s so clever,” chuckled Cuan. “Can you guess the theme of our party?”

He swung his arm wide, indicating not just the dancers but the mirrors, in front of which quite a few faeries stood, apparently admiring their reflections. Dru realized the fascination in a moment; unlike ordinary reflections, the ones in these mirrors cast back an altered version of the viewer. When the viewer raised a hand, their reflection was liable to make a face at them or a rude gesture; if a faerie danced in front of the mirror, the reflection might well flop down in the grass, feigning tiredness.

“The theme is doubles,” said Dru. “Matching pairs. Because you’re twins.”

This struck her as extremely obvious, but Callen looked pleased. “Quite right. Now, take a mask. You first, Rathna.”

Rathna plucked a peacock mask out of the pile. It was constructed of feathers dyed blue, black, and green, their tips dipped in silver. “Wish me luck,” she said, winked at Dru, and disappeared among the dancers.

Callen hopped down from his makeshift throne. “Here,” he said, digging through the pile of masks. “You’ll like this one.”

He held it out to Dru. She almost flinched back—it was a devil mask, a domino that would only cover her eyes and nose, in deep shades of red and black. Small gold horns decorated the edges. It made Dru think of real demons, of blood and burned things.

But she took the mask with a smile. “Lovely,” she said, and turned her back on Callen. She couldn’t help but wonder where Ash was—hadn’t he insisted Rathna bring Dru to the party? And now Rathna had disappeared.

Dru tied on her mask and slipped into the crowd. She felt self-conscious, which was rare for her, but at this point she was fairly sure that the Seelie Court knew her mainly as the unstable Shadowhunter who had licked the Prince. Her gaze darted around, seeking out any sign of Clary, but to her disappointment, she wasn’t there.