Sera opened her eyes slowly, cocooned in a soft warmth where a shaft of sunlight lay across her body. Clean, white sheets and a new duvet were laid over her, and she stretched out her right arm behind her to find Rayce, rolling over to press herself back against him and maybe bend the no-biting rule a bit.

Her hand drifted over cool, bamboo sheets and she finished rolling over to find the other side of the bed was empty, no crease in the other pillow to show where he had lain. Sera's mind snapped awake as her dream washed over her. Her nightmare.

She brushed the sheet back from her left arm and found the faint white lines of a rune scar there, a rune of Sleep, and the avalanche of horror crashed down. Rayce. The Hunt. The trap. Long after she had watched mutely as Rayce's left eye had turned black, she'd seen teasing visions of a black snake with dark blue markings, and she had understood; the Hunter she had seen behind Gwyn last night was the one who had done this to Rayce. He had known what the consequences would be, and had done it to sow more misery to grow alongside his own.

Sera felt heat rising in her chest as she fixed that conniving face in her mind. It was the same Hunter that Rayce had defeated a decade ago. That fight should have ended with the dagger Rayce had driven through the Hunter's hand. But something about Rayce had set him off, and it was clear that no one could nurse a grudge like the Fey. Except her.

"I swear by the Angel that you will pay in blood for what you've done, Hunter," she swore softly under her breath, gold eyes blazing in the afternoon light.

She pushed back the covers and swung herself out of bed. She was still wearing Arynessa's white corset and wide, white pants, but she didn't bother to change. She had to find Seraphine.

The diminutive warlock was working at the kitchen counter where the three of them had shared grilled cheese just a few days ago. How had it all gone so wrong? Seraphine looked up as she came around the corner and immediately dropped down from the bar stool to wrap her arms around the Shadowhunter.

"I'm so sorry, Sera," she whispered, squeezing her friend.

Sera hugged her back wordlessly and felt tears in her eyes before she brushed them away angrily. She wasn't going to sit here and cry. She dropped her hands gently.

"You saw him?"

Seraphine nodded sadly. "He landed on the balcony on a great black horse with fire in its eyes and at its hooves. You were in his arms, wrapped in that dark cloak, and I feared the worst. I thought you were dead, Sera, but the truth was so much harder to bear.

"I opened the balcony door and I could see others riding the winds, and then I knew. That black, scarred sword was belted at his waist when he slid down from his mount. Gwyn's sword. His now, I suppose." Seraphine felt a tear slip down her cheek.

"He laid you in bed like you were the most precious thing in the world, Sera, and the look in his eyes genuinely scared me when he asked me to take care of you. It was more than seeing one of them gone black - the darkness of the Hunt is in him now, and I dare say it's finding fertile ground to work with in his Morgenstern blood."

"No." Sera held up her hand. "His blood doesn't make him good or evil, Seraphine. I don't care who his father was. I know who he is. He's coping the only way he can, by trying to be what everyone expects him to be." She looked at the clock on the stove, which showed it was already quarter past four and she shook her head. "I've completely lost track of how much time is left until they attack. I don't even know how to figure it out with the time zones and Faerie time, but I have to try to reach him, Seraphine."

The warlock shook her head. "You can't, Sera. He told me why he did it; I know he's gone to fight with his sister to retake the Seelie Court. You can't be anywhere near there when it happens - a Shadowhunter in a nest of warring Fey? Imagine what it would do to him if you were killed."

"Imagine what this is doing to me right now!"

Seraphine took the girl's hand. "He'll come back when it's over, Sera. When it's safe."

She pulled her hand away. "I don't want to be safe. I want to murder some Faeries..." Her eyes narrowed. "One, in particular." Sera spun around and ran to the front door, wrenching the handle with unnecessary force as she yanked. It didn't budge. She checked the lock and tried again. Still nothing. Her palm flared with heat as an opening rune burned into the door and then fizzled in a wisp of pink smoke. She whirled around, platinum streaks in her golden hair catching the light as she fixed her eyes on the tiny warlock now leaning against the wall in the hallway.

"I made a promise to him, Sera, and he was right to ask for it. Right about now, I'd imagine you're ready to go grab a wad of cash and weapons and show up on Otherios' doorstep to scare him half to death and force him to lead you to the Seelie Court. Quite aside from ruining a relationship you might need once you've cooled down, what can you do?"

"I can... I..." Sera sagged back against the sealed door and slid to the floor. "I can't just sit here, Seraphine. I have to know what's happening."

The warlock closed the distance between them and crouched down. "Then use your gift, Sera. He's back in the Courts, just like he always was. You've never wanted anything so badly as you want to see what happens tonight. Focus your sight; I will help you sleep. Watch from a safe distance. Be here when he returns. Getting yourself killed now means you can't help him later."

"Help him?"

"There's no magic in this world that cannot be undone, Sera. If there's a way to free him from the Hunt, I would even swear by your Angel that I will help you find it. Just don't do anything stupid until then, okay?"

Sera reached out and gathered her friend into a crushing embrace. "We're going to fix this, Seraphine. Whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes," the warlock promised.

Sera returned to the guest room and slipped back under the covers. It seemed unthinkable that she would be trying to sleep again after what had likely been at least 12 hours of rest, maybe more, but Seraphine was right. She had to be smart. No charging off in a useless act of heroism, no matter how much better it would make her feel. She would settle for being with him the same way she had always been with him for last 11 years - in her dreams.

She rolled onto her left side, arm flung out as she felt Seraphine's gentle touch on her back. Sera's right hand began anxiously tracing the rune scar on her left forearm, her fingers sliding over the slightly raised lines over and over as she began focusing her gift. Seraphine had been right; she'd never felt this level of need with her gift before. She was strangely calm - all the horror and panic was locked away where it couldn't distract her now.

She closed her eyes, still tracing the scar Rayce had given her. It was tangible proof that the past week hadn't been just another dream. She saw him in her mind's eye, that first terrifying glimpse of him in real life as he'd yanked her toward him by her whip in the parking garage. She had hardly been able to breathe once she'd had him in front of her, living and breathing in the flesh at last. Feeling his hands close on her throat just as she had cried Zeke's pass phrase had been both a thrill of terror and wonder. He was real.

A pink haze started to creep in around the edges of the theatre of her mind and she heard Seraphine humming softly behind her. More images of Rayce flashed past her eyes. Him practically falling over the armchair in Seraphine's bedroom the first time he had seen her as she truly was. Laying quietly in this bed with him when she had slept next to him for the first time. Her prince hastily rescuing a grilled cheese from burning. His whisper in her ear at the Faerie checkpoint, 'Have faith'.

She felt a tear slide down across her temple. Rayce killing the four Faerie guards in the blink of an eye as they escaped from the tunnels into Idris. The pain on his face in the graveyard of Alicante as he saw the scope of the devastation caused by his father. Seeing him sprawled across the floor of the Consul's office for nothing more than his name. Captured by the werewolves for nothing more than his face.

Her fingers slowed in their tracing circuit as she called up the memories of their night together before entering the Rift. The feel of his body against hers, his mouth as warm and soft as she had always imagined, his hands even more gentle and strong than she had ever fantasized. They had given themselves to each other completely, and that had been the end of any chance of ever turning back. He was hers, and she was his.

Seraphine's magic reached the tipping point and gently pushed the Shadowhunter over the edge, sending her spiraling back into the world of dreams to find the other piece of her heart.

Alicante stretched out below Rayce, demon towers reaching up into the night sky in the hour after sunset, and witchlight bathed the city in a soft glow that pulled at his heart. It was said that even Shadowhunters who weren't raised in the City of Glass could still feel the tug of coming home, that Alicante was in the blood of the Nephilim. He brushed the thought away; he didn't have a home now.

His mount galloped through the air silently, hooves flashing with fire as they circled above the Gard. Rayce was hesitant to try his luck there again so soon, especially after the last disaster. The back-up plan last time had been to try to find the Consul's home, and it seemed like an easier place to start this time. He would be able to take control of the Consul easily, and force him to retrieve the crown from the adjacent Gard.

With Gwyn's memories to augment his own, he now knew that the Consul's state-provided home fronted the same square as the Gard, and he could see that most of its windows were dark. He guided his steed down to a stonework balcony off the back of the Victorian-style manor, silently thankful that he had ordered the rest of the Hunters to go on ahead and wait for him near the edge of the Seelie Court.

Rayce swung himself out of his black leather saddle and landed lightly, willing his mount with a thought to disperse back into the ether once more until he summoned it again. He pulled out the stele that he both loved and loathed and drew a quick Opening rune on the glass doors of the balcony. On one hand, it was a connection to Sera, but on the other, he had used it against her. And he knew that she would bear the scar of that betrayal, her only rune scar, as a reminder of his mistake every day.

He stepped inside the home and found himself in a library or office of sorts, the walls lined with bookshelves and a beautiful desk covered in documents stood directly in front of the doors. Does the Consul ever do anything but work? Moonlight and witchlight from outside provided a faint illumination in the room, and Rayce waited for his eyes to adjust. A nyx rune might work, but he would prefer not to be blinded if he encountered any unexpected light.

In a moment, Rayce felt his entire body freeze and the Consul slid through the doorway with deadly grace, an arrow knocked, drawn and sighted at his chest. The warlock from the prison cells followed him, hands glowing with blue light as he maintained the binding spell. Both were only half-dressed, as if awakened suddenly with no time for clothes.

Rayce sighed inwardly. It would never be any different for him.

"You. What are you doing here? We were expecting Clave assassins." The Consul lowered his weapon, the muscles across his bare chest and in his arms relaxing. He nodded at the warlock, and the binding spell eased slightly. Rayce was confused by this reaction.

"I've returned for the Seelie crown. My sister and I will lead the attack against the Unseelie tonight."

Alec crossed the room and lit two of the witchlight lamps, splashing light across the room, allowing them to get a good look at Rayce where he stood wrapped in the cloak of the Hunt, blackened sword belted at his waist and staff slung across his back.

"That cloak..." Magnus breathed, eyes widening in recognition. "What happened?"

"I lead the Hunt now," Rayce answered, the emotions tied to those words still too raw to go into detail. "They will fight for my sister and help us retake the throne. She will wield the power of the Seelie crown in our defense."

"But taking on the mantle of the Hunt is..."

"Forever. I know that now."

Both warlock and Consul grew quiet as the sadness in those words washed over them. They both knew what Sera had written about Rayce, as much as Alec had read, and seeing him here now without her said more than he ever could about it.

Rayce changed the subject hurriedly to avoid thinking about his loss. "Why were you expecting assassins?"

Alec shook his head, and the warlock dropped the binding spell completely. "It would appear that my term of office has come to an unexpected and abrupt end," the Consul said wryly.

He and the warlock, who was introduced as Magnus Bane ('Magnus the Magnificent', he had insisted), gave Rayce a quick summary of what had happened in Alicante after he and Sera had escaped, and Rayce felt his heart sinking at what the ripples of his arrival had caused in their wake.

"Everything I touch turns to poison." He shook his head. "I'm more like my father than I knew."

Alec stepped forward and took Rayce's shoulder, his intense blue eyes earnest as they looked back into the green and black stare. "Your father would never have sacrificed himself to save his family, Rayce. Don't let his shadow fall across your life. You're your own man. It's not your name that defines you; it's your deeds."

"Pretty words, Consul," Rayce said, shaking off the comforting hand, "But I'm running short on time. We need to get in and out of the Gard quickly."

Magnus shook his head. "No, we don't. Which is fortunate, considering Alec is under house arrest." Alec pointed to a Mark at the juncture of his shoulder to emphasize the point, the ugly rune designed to keep him from leaving the residence it was paired with. Magnus smiled sheepishly. "I have the Seelie crown here. Purely for academic study, I assure you."

The warlock left the two Shadowhunters in the library with a swirl of his burgundy silk dressing robe. Rayce regarded the Consul quietly in the silence that followed. Former Consul now, I suppose. He wondered where the man found the strength to hold himself together after losing everything for which he had worked so hard. Rayce was surprised to find himself admiring the courage it would take to wait stoically for the proverbial axe to fall, to bear it with grace and dignity. He hoped that he would be able to find it within himself to do the same, to accept the mantle he wore and the burden it carried.

Alec was studying Rayce in turn, slightly awed by the simple fact that the younger Shadowhunter must have defeated Gwyn in single combat to take the cloak. Even if he hadn't known the full scope of the consequences for doing so, he had still taken the chance and risked his life for a shot at wresting even temporary control of the Hunt away from Gwyn. He must have known that the price of failure would be death. He had done it for love of his family, for his own sense of honour. Alec couldn't imagine anything further from Sebastian Morgenstern's own twisted motivations. He prayed to the Angel that Rayce would stay true to his heart.

"I was wrong about you," Alec ventured quietly.

"Maybe it's too early to tell."

Magnus returned then, holding the crown lightly. It still looked like scrap metal, maintaining the appearance it had taken from the last one of Fey blood to hold it. "I remember it looking much better on your mother, biscuit."

Biscuit? Rayce let it slide.

"My mother was a better Queen than you know."

"Oh, I know plenty -"

"Magnus," Alec cut in, "Now's not the time."

The warlock huffed.

Rayce took the crown in his hands and looked down at the circlet. It was almost a joke that it was he who had ended up with it. Bael should have held it by rights; Malchezed had craved the power it would grant him; Arynessa would wear it before either of them; but it was Rayce who held it now, taken by his own hands. He pulled one of the loops of his belt through it and then let his cloak settle over the crown, hiding it from view.

"I wish there was something I could do to help you here, Consul," Rayce offered as he crossed back through the warlock-woven wards at the glass doors.

Alec nodded in appreciation. "Fix what's going on down there and that will be enough."

The Lord of the Hunt smiled sadly as he summoned his steed with a thought and mounted easily.

"Will it?"

Arynessa waited patiently, the blue-white light of the ley line network falling across the knee-length black and gold dress she had donned for the battle. The gold elements were woven with protective spells, and the filigree of the design across her bodice was ensorcelled to turn any weapon. Thigh-high leather boots would protect her legs and leave her a free range of movement. Her hair was bound back from her face, tumbling down her back instead. She was only armed with a pair of knives and her own magic, in anticipation of holding the Seelie crown. She had waited a long time for this day.

The courtiers who had sworn themselves to her had been able to take the ley line terminus easily, overwhelming the guards there in moments while they held the advantage of surprise. They had secured the platform for the rest of the Fey to join them, and a few scouts had been sent out into the surrounding tunnels to ensure that they were not surprised by any Unseelie.

She tried to imagine what Rayce would have to say to convince Gwyn to join them. The Hunter had been carefully neutral between the two Courts for centuries, as required by the vow he had taken when the mantle had first been settled across his shoulders so long ago. The Unseelie King had been very cautious when he had conceived the magic for the Hunt in the beginning, his foresight allowing the Hunters to become a wonderful tool for the Faerie realm, with all the checks in place to ensure that the hound could never bite its master's hand.

Solarius had kissed her softly when she had left the Rift, remaining behind to ensure that they would be able to retreat safely if anything went wrong. He couldn't afford to allow the Rift to slip into chaos, and he knew very well that there were many who might try to exploit any lapse in supervision. He had whispered his confidence in her abilities and prayed for her swift victory. This was her battle to fight.

She eased the pair of daggers in their sheaths at her waist and continued to wait for her brother to bring the Hunt. He had been raised to be dutiful; she didn't think for a moment that he would fail her. A commotion in the tunnel leading to the Court snapped her out of her reflection and a smile spread across her lips as Rayce stalked through, brushing off the hands of those courtiers brave enough to try to make him wait to see her.

"Brother," she greeted him with pleasure until he drew close enough for her to properly see the mantle across his shoulders. Then her smile slipped and her eyes widened in surprise. "What did you do?"

"What I had to." His answer was clipped, his tone dark. This was not the same brother she had seen barely a day earlier, the one with love in his eyes for his beautiful Shadowhunter. Arynessa stilled her features and suppressed the shiver that was tingling across the backs of her arms.

Hunting horns wailed in the distance and his eyes found hers, one green, one black, and she had to mask her horror at seeing him like this. "The Hunt has begun the attack, sister. We must move now while Malchezed is looking the wrong way." His voice was distant. He swept aside his cloak to unfasten the Seelie crown from where it hung low against his hip. It was an ugly circlet of tarnished metal, and she felt her heart sink.

"Do you think so little of us, brother?" she whispered.

"Less with every passing day. My love was for you, Zeke, Bael, and mother. I was long ago disabused of the thought that the rest of our people might come to love me as well."

Arynessa bowed her head and bit her lip. "I will not forget your sacrifice for us, Rayce."

He held out the crown to her, but did not release it when she closed her hand around the circlet, pulling her closer instead so that he could whisper, "See that you don't."

He let the crown go, and it's appearance immediately began to change, melting and flowing in her hands. When it had a finished, a slimmer, lighter crown had taken it's place, silver shining brightly around a simple pattern of diamonds and amethysts. It was much more subtle than their mother's had been, but Rayce felt some part of his shattered heart sigh with relief that she would serve the throne well.

Rayce hurriedly applied a few more Marks as she secured the crown to her belt for safekeeping until the bonding could be completed in the throne room. When she had finished, she looked back up into her brother's disconcerting eyes. "I'm ready."

"Then stay close to me, sister."

Rayce led them out into the tunnels, his shoulders seeming broader under Gwyn's cloak as it swirled behind him. No, his cloak, Arynessa thought to herself. The courtiers followed them easily, and how could they not? The aura of command that radiated from him now was almost palpable in the air. He had been trained to be a prince of the Courts, tutored by his brother in the subtleties of leadership, but Arynessa had never been given an opportunity to see him like this. He was focused with deadly intent, like an arrow pointed straight at Malchezed, and the others could feel it in him.

Arynessa paced along just behind and to the right of her brother and the courtiers followed silently, all of them gliding through the tunnels left mostly deserted by the threat of the Hunt in the opposite direction. That would change once they got closer.

No sooner had she had the thought than they turned a bend right into a pack of Unseelie warriors and Rayce pulled his staff in less than a heartbeat, spinning into the group without a moment of hesitation. The furthest warrior only just managed to spark a warning signal to life that raced like lightning back along the tunnels toward the Court before Arynessa dropped him with a hurled handful of flames. The other four Unseelie were already bleeding out their lives into the hard-packed earth of the tunnel.

Rayce started to jog forward faster, turning to make sure that everyone else was following. That signal would bring more of the Unseelie down on them; they had to move faster. They passed a side corridor that led to the hot spring cavern, and more Unseelies came pounding up the main tunnel.

He shifted forward, cloak swirling as he spun and attacked low, cutting hard at the legs of the first Faerie in his way. He vanished before any counterattack could land, leaving wisps of black smoke in his wake as he continued to turn and shift, keeping his enemies off balance. Over half were down when he turned to see Arynessa sink one of her blades into another warrior who had come up with a group from the hot spring tunnel.

Rayce sighed impatiently and shifted back to her side, where he closed his arms around her, holding onto her with both his mind and body as he shifted them both forward, past where he had been fighting, separating them from the courtiers who were struggling to keep up. "We have to move faster," he snarled. "Staying with them will only slow us down."

Arynessa nodded, taken aback by this cold, fierce man who had replaced her gentle brother. Together, they began running flat out down the tunnel.

Unseelies appeared at regular intervals now, and each time, Rayce blew through them like the wind, staff slashing out as he vanished and reappeared with ease. His cloak flared out around him as he shifted back and forth between clearing the way and defending his sister against possible attack, sometimes embracing her to move them forward as far as he could see, continuing to lengthen the distance between them and the courtiers they had left behind.

The princess was almost breathless from the exertion of running, fighting, and feeling as though she was being squeezed through the eye of a needle every time Rayce took them forward with his gift. Her head was spinning and she tried to imagine having to fight through this without her brother acting as both her sword and shield. He, on the other hand, didn't even look like he was breathing hard. Blood had spattered across his throat, and more was streaked through his white hair, and she couldn't reconcile this image with the boy who had been filled with his conviction that Gwyn would do what was right. Part of her wished that the massive Faerie had, if only so that she would not have to see Rayce like this. He had finally become the killer that their mother had always dreamed of.

They were very near the side-entrance to the throne room that their mother had favoured, and Rayce had just dispatched the last of the most recent knot of Unseelies when Arynessa drew up short. Rayce turned his bifurcated gaze on her as she freed the crown from her belt.

"I'll go around through the main entrance and distract him. Get to the throne, sister, or all of this will be for nothing." He turned and vanished. No goodbye. No good luck.

She held the crown lightly in her hands and looked down at it. Was it worth the price? Too late to ask now. She edged closer to the doorway so that she could hear Rayce's distraction, a knife held in her other hand just in case there were any more surprises waiting for her.

Sera tossed in her enchanted sleep, and she finally felt the pull of the Courts drag at her. She followed the trail eagerly, opening her eyes to see the Seelie throne room laid out before her. It looked much as it had when she and Rayce had stolen the crown, a dark cavern lit by pale white light.

This time, though, Malchezed was crouched in front of the throne, his wings flared out, twin warglaives drawn as he watched the main entrance to the throne room warily. The chamber was nearly empty, all of his warriors sent to defend against the Wild Hunt where they were decimating his forces.

Sera's heart leaped into her throat as she saw Rayce cross through the doorway, his steps light and graceful as his mismatched eyes locked onto the hulking Unseelie.

"It's over, Malchezed," he said. "You're finished in the Seelie Court."

Malchezed laughed, his deep voice rolling across the darkened cavern. "Finished? I'm just getting started, boy."

Rayce stalked closer, his staff held ready before him, and he kept his eyes fixed on the big Faerie as goat hooves clattered over the stone, bringing Malchezed further away from the throne. He didn't dare look to the side entrance to see if Arynessa had been able to slip inside yet.

He lunged forward, staff whirling, ready to shift behind the tattered black wings at the last second, but Malchezed made no move to defend himself, save only to raise one clawed hand. Rayce watched as it twisted sharply, sending a dark pulse of power across the distance between them, and he immediately stopped, mesmerized.

Sera, invisible and intangible, screamed in warning, but Rayce couldn't hear her. She had seen this before, had thought it wouldn't be possible once she had saved him from the Courts. She crossed between them, incorporeal hands pressing against his chest vainly to hold him back, hoping and praying for a miracle like the one in her first dream, where he had been able to see her.

Rayce shuffled forward slowly as if asleep, eyes vacant and staring at the dark power pulsing around Malchezed's upraised hand. The Unseelie's face split into a parody of a delighted smile.

"I've been waiting for you, Rayce," he crooned hypnotically, maintaining the trance. "I've been looking forward to having a new hound at my side."

The Shadowhunter stopped just short of Malchezed's hand and continued staring at the swirl of dark purple and black, lost in the spell. He held still as the Unseelie's clawed hand lowered to spread across his chest, just under the clasp of the cloak of the Hunt. Blackened claws pierced his flesh as Malchezed closed his grip slightly, and Sera screamed in frustration at her inability to stop him.

Bright light flooded through the chamber and the cavern walls vanished, replaced by a forest of oak trees. Malchezed's head snapped back to the throne in confusion just in time to catch a thick blast of pure power, ropes of orange, yellow, and white all intertwined to smash into the Unseelie with shattering force.

Arynessa stood before the throne, blazing with an aura of power that seemed to ripple down from the shining crown she now wore. She gathered her hands together and thrust them forward for a second strike, hammering another crippling blow at the usurper.

Malchezed was fully engulfed by the killing fire, and Rayce fell back a few steps from the intensity of the heat. The Unseelie was screaming in pain and rage as Arynessa launched one final burst and he completely disintegrated, flakes of blackened ash exploding outward from where he had stood.

She sagged back into the throne, breast heaving from the amount of power she had wielded. Rayce shifted to the base of the throne.

"Sister?" he asked tentatively.

Her violet eyes found his and she smiled, a smile that grew as the realization of what she had done sank in. "I am well, brother." She pushed herself up into a more dignified posture and looked at where Malchezed's remains were drifting down to land in the carpet of grass around the oak trees. "We did it," she whispered.

Rayce reached under his cloak to draw his Hunter's horn and he turned to blow a deep, resonating note to call them back to his side. The fastest of the courtiers Arynessa had gathered were already arriving and filtering into the throne room through the trees, some of them showing signs of battle. She straightened on the throne and radiated confidence.

Hunters began creeping in as well, weapons bloodied and eyes bright with the thrill of the Hunt. They slunk off to the far side of the forested chamber and Rayce watched them go with hard eyes, tapping into that part of him that was the Lord of the Hunt to enforce his will on them and keep them in check.

A trio of courtiers appeared through the side entrance, two of them supporting an old man while the third escorted prince Baelerithon. Rayce's heart jumped in his chest, though his face did not betray him. Zeke!

Bael approached the throne cautiously, showing a rare flash of true emotion as he saw the cloak across his brother's shoulders. Surprise bloomed in his eyes before he regained control and smoothed his features once more.

"I confess that I am surprised by this turn of events, sister," Bael said, his eyes flicking sideways to include Rayce in his observation.

"I'll bet you are, dear brother, though I wonder if even you can bend the truth enough to say that you are 'pleasantly surprised'".

Bael's eyes hardened. "I think it's time you gave me the crown, before you say something you might regret."

"No, I don't think so, Baelerithon. If Malchezed didn't give it to you, I don't see why I should." Arynessa's eyes narrowed at her elder brother.

Rayce looked at her in confusion. "But I thought-"

"-exactly what I wanted you to think," she finished for him. "Keep silent on matters you do not understand."

Most of the remaining courtiers and Hunters had joined their brethren among the trunks of the great oaks, the highborn Fey whispering as they watched the muted conference on the dais.

Arynessa rose from the great oak throne smoothly, crown sparkling in the artificial light. She lifted her arms to welcome those who had fought to wrest control of the Seelie Court back from Malchezed's claws.

"Welcome home, my friends! Together, we have restored a throne torn asunder by treason and treachery! I ask you now to stand witness to the judgement for these crimes." Her eyes fell on Baelerithon, who was breathing shallowly, his eyes filled with hatred as he stared at his sister. She held that gaze with one of her own, eyes blazing as she stabbed an accusatory finger at Bael.

"Who's hand killed our mother, Bael? Who but you could get close enough to her to betray her trust? Who but you has traveled to the Unseelie Court countless times over the past few years under the guise of strengthening relations? Strengthening your own dark alliances, perhaps. Speak plainly and be judged, brother."

Bael's black eyes darted sideways to where Rayce was standing in shock at the accusations. "Brother," he addressed Rayce, "Surely you aren't fooled by our sister's fanciful story? Call your Hunters to the defense of your Crown prince."

Rayce shook his head slowly, eyes narrowing. "Answer her, Bael. Who's hand killed our mother?"

The seconds hung heavily in the air as all of those gathered waited on his answer, waited to hear him damn himself.

"Mine," he hissed, lunging forward with a hidden dagger to plunge into his sister's heart. Rayce caught his wrist just as the point was turned by the golden filigree pattern across her dress, Arynessa not even flinching, secure in her confidence both in Rayce and her own enchantments.

She spoke to those assembled once more as Rayce locked his brother's arms behind him in a vice grip, face turned away from the inky black wings. "A confession from his own lips! Murderer! Crown prince Baelerithon is not fit to rule, to sit the Seelie throne as our mother had once intended."

"What will you do with him?" Rayce asked quietly, for their ears alone, muscles in his arms corded as he held Bael's arms tightly.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing, brother," she answered softly before lifting her voice again. "For the crime of high treason against the throne, murder, attempted murder, and sedition with the Unseelies, I hereby sentence Baelerithon to exile, to ride with the Wild Hunt for all time to make amends for the damage he has caused. He will be stripped of his titles and estates, his possessions remitted to the Crown to help pay restitution to the families of those killed in the days since my mother's murder. Let his name be spoken no more within our Court."

Applause burst out from the courtiers, and jeers from the Hunters who were looking forward to getting their hands on the prince for the brothers they had lost.

Rayce's mouth gaped open in disbelief.

"Arynessa..."

"No," she held one slim finger to his lips. "That name will not be spoken anymore either, brother. I am the Seelie Queen now."