mingled, and it was beautiful. As I looked around, I realized that there was a warm brightness that seemed to emanate from between some of the trees, while others had an endless darkness. There was no rhyme or reason for these spots. No source for the light or shadows.
“Are those paths to the light and shadow courts?” I asked, gesturing toward the two different patches that would have touched each other if not for a single thin birch tree separating them.
Dugan nodded. “The court of light and the court of shadows both touch all the seasons, but are part of none of them.”
I looked around. That seemed accurate, as the light and darkness appeared in every season’s part of the grove.
“There are more paths of light than shadow,” I observed idly, and Dugan grimaced. Then he turned to glare at the light in the grove, as if he could will the shadows to overtake some of the paths.
“I meant no offense,” I said when his glare took on a ferocity I hadn’t previously seen in him. It wasn’t aimed at me, but it was startling to see on the typically stoic fae, and I was reminded once again he was a prince of Faerie and not actually an ally.
Dugan waved a dismissive hand, but I wasn’t sure if he was waving away my words or using the motion to rid himself of his own thoughts. Whichever was the case, his dark features returned to a brooding neutral.
“Faerie is out of balance,” was all he said as he swept past me, heading toward the summer door. His dark cloak whirled behind him, the shadows crawling outward around him, but they avoided the streams of light.
I gave Falin a questioning look, but he only shook his head and motioned toward the door. I looked around the clearing one more time. The seasonal courts might ebb and flow in power throughout the year, but they looked perfectly in balance here. Light definitely dominated shadows, though.
I started toward the summer door and then stopped short, looking back. “Where is the door to the high court?”
Was I just missing it? Like I had the paths to shadow and light at first? If I could return to this clearing after the case, take a door to the high court, and petition to study with their mortal planeweavers . . .
Falin shook his head. “It’s not here.”
“So where—?” I started, but he only shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said, and we both turned to look at Dugan.
The prince frowned. “Only Faerie monarchs are privy to knowledge about reaching the high court.”
“And Faerie princes?” I asked, trying not to sound too imploring. If Dugan couldn’t help me even if we solved these murders, I was back to placing all my hope on the favor my father had dangled in front of me.
Dugan’s frown only deepened, and he didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, placing his palm against the plot of hill that served as the summer door. This close, I could see that the grass and heather tumbled in an unfelt wind, and as it moved, the twisting flora created shapes. I caught images of fae swimming and dancing, and then I saw an elaborate scene of a very large orgy and decided to stop looking. I was far from a prude, but little twisting blades of grass shaking and shivering to form tiny people getting it on was just weird.
The hillside opened under Dugan’s hand, swinging in like it actually was a door. Bright sunlight and the swirling notes of a panpipe escaped through the opening. We hadn’t even stepped through yet, and I could feel the warm sunshine on my face.
“All together?” Dugan asked, holding out his hand.
Was he nervous about entering yet another court? I couldn’t blame him if he was. I definitely was, despite the fact that we’d negotiated our passage already.
I took his offered hand. It was cool and dry against my gloved fingers, despite the blood he didn’t hide on his palms. It occurred to me I’d never actually touched him before. He might be an ancient Faerie prince, but his hand was just a hand, seeking as much support as it gave. With my other hand, I reached out and locked my fingers with Falin’s gloved hand.
“Don’t let the king bespell me,” I whispered.
Then we stepped through the hillside doorway and into the streaming sunlight.
* * *
• • •
“I do’na think ye belong in the summer court,” a deep voice said