on Imbolc.
She picked a direction and started walking, shivering in the night air and hoping she would hit a path she recognized sooner rather than later.
A sharp screech made Donna jump, and she had to touch the closest tree trunk to get her breath and balance. She was badly on edge, all her nerves felt raw and exposed, but given her memories of the Skriker—the monster she’d killed just a couple months ago—she could hardly blame herself. The sound she’d heard definitely wasn’t the fey creature, though—she’d know that particular cry anywhere. Probably it had just been an owl, swooping for its prey.
Just as Donna convinced herself it was safe to continue, the bushes on either side of the path rustled. Four wood elves scuttled onto the path, blocking her way forward.
The clicking and scraping sounds they made in the backs of their throats made her shudder. Donna’s tattoos stirred against her arms. She spun around, planning to run back the other way, but another group of elves already blocked her escape, their black eyes watching her with creepy intensity.
Donna knew she could try fighting them, but six wiry elves, no matter how weakened they might be, were too many for just one of her. She darted to the side and off the path, plunging into the undergrowth.
“Stop!” The shout came from somewhere back on the path, and Donna was so surprised that she actually did as commanded. Not because of the order itself, but because wood elves didn’t speak human language. Their mouths and throats could not form the right syllables—at least, not in their true, unglamoured form.
She turned around slowly. There was only one person who that voice could belong to.
Aliette stood straight and tall on the path, her six elves gathered around like giant insects.
Donna glanced over her shoulder and then back up at the sky. It was completely dark now, and she didn’t stand much chance in the Ironwood at night—not if she wasn’t even sticking to the main paths. The Wood Queen regarded her calmly, waiting for her to come to the only sensible conclusion.
Donna picked her way around brambles and fallen branches, stepping back onto the path strewn with dead leaves and dried berries.
“Your Majesty,” she said.
“Iron Witch,” the queen replied. Donna could swear that Aliette was smiling, but it was difficult to tell in that strange, woody face of hers. “You stink of my cousin, Isolde.”
Donna raised her brows. “You can smell her on me? That’s … pretty weird. No offense,” she added quickly.
Aliette waved away her minions. “Walk with me.”
“Where are we going?” Donna asked. “I’ve already been in Faerie today—I’m not sure I want to cross realms again. Can’t we talk here?”
“I will not take you into my lands tonight, Donna Underwood. If we follow this path, it will show you the way out of the forest. I assume you are lost … ”
Donna’s shoulders slumped. She was lost, tired, scared. All of that good stuff. “Why would you help me?”
Aliette laughed, a strange brittle sound accompanied by a rustling sound like dead leaves. “When have I helped you in the past, and why would I start now? No, young alchemist, I only ever act in the interests of my people.”
Donna put her hands on her hips. “Oh, really? Is that what you call letting the demons out of Hell?”
A sly look crossed the Wood Queen’s features. “I believe it was you who achieved that particular task. Remarkable power, indeed, in one so young.”
Donna scowled. “I’m sick of games, your Majesty. What do you really want?”
“I would give you what you seek—the Cup of Hermes. An alchemical artifact carved from the bark of the oldest tree in the Elflands.”
“Just like that?” Donna snorted. No way would Aliette, of all people, make it so easy for her. “Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”
“I care little for what you believe. I care only about saving my kin. Now, the only way I can do this is to have the Elflands accepted back into the realm of Faerie. And to do that, I must play by the Demon King’s rules. Take the cup—what good it may do you—and make your precious Stone. With Demian back in power, we are obliged to pay the tithe to Hell once more. Perhaps we can then return to Faerie and my wood elves may yet survive.”
Donna examined the queen’s words, turning them every way in her mind, looking for the trick. The trap. There was always a