Page 46 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

He cleared the bastard out of his mind and concentrated, instead, on the pinfeather, sensed it in the throne room, and willed himself there.

Nothing happened.

He apologized to the group.

Wickham asked, “Has this happened before?”

“Never.”

“You’re sure where she is?”

“In the throne room. I’m sure.”

“Can we try nearby?”

Griffon nodded, took a breath, then willed himself to a spot outside the Fae court, which he could visualize clearly. This time, his body shifted, along with his company, and when they settled again, they stood in a landscape of brilliant mossy green.

Fifty yards away lay a familiar slope. Moss-covered tree trunks reached so high over their heads there was no telling how tall they were. Massive branches, heavy with fat leaves, blocked out any direct view of the sky, and what light filtered through the gaps dangled and flashed like prisms hung on strings.

While Wickham and the others watched, slack jawed, a handful of leaves lifted off the ground, turned a deeper shade of green, and flew like birds in search of a bare branch, where they attached themselves.

Griffon laughed lightly at their reactions. “Time does not flow in a straight line in Fairy.”

Urban scrubbed the shock from his face. “So we’re definitely in Fairy?”

“We are. Just outside the King’s Court. There will be sentries. Do not speak.”

As they approached the slope, the turf peeled itself back, rocks rolled and tumbled out of the way, and rich dark earth flew in different directions to reveal a stone arch in the hillside. Runes were carved deep all along the edges and glowed slightly in the dim light. Just inside the opening, standing to either side, stood two tall warriors. They, too, were carved out of stone, along with their weapons and shields. But a thin sheen of moss gave them a living skin that shifted to show their expressions. Their eyes were very much alive and watchful.

“Griffon Carew to see the King.”

Two dark, shiny leaves parted like thin lips when the bloke on the left spoke. “King’s busy. Come back later.”

“Trust me. He’ll want to see me immediately. I have news.”

“And we have orders.” Thick vines crawled from the ground beneath the arch and wove themselves into a lattice that covered the opening completely. “Come back later.”

Griffon reached out and plucked at one of the strands. It held as firm as an old root, and he cursed. Then he led the rest of them back where they’d started. “I know of no other way to physically enter the King’s Court.”

Wickham wondered aloud how long those vines might stay in place.

“No telling.”

Kitch offered an idea. “If we get the guards to come out, they’ll have to remove them.”

“Yes,” Urban said, “but how do you lure two stone men away from their posts?”

“Not men, fairies.” Griffon considered for a moment and an idea came. “Will o’ the wisps. Fairies can’t resist them. Catching one means making a substantial wish. If there are fairies in those statues, they’ll abandon their posts, I’m sure of it.”

Wickham shook his head. “Anyone have a will o’ the wisp in their pockets?”

Persi poked him. “You do. Didn’t you say your brother had the power of illusion? And wasn’t his power passed to you when he died?”

Wickham looked ill. “I’ve never…never touched Walter’s power. I always considered it…tainted.”

“Come on,” she prodded him again. “Last days and all that. Time to pull out all the stops. Right?”

The witch closed his eyes and didn’t move a muscle for so long, Griffon wondered if he’d become a statue himself. When he did open his eyes, it caused the others to jump.

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