Look, I've read enough about the Fae to know that chasing anyone through a shimmering portal of golden light is a spectacularly bad idea. E.W.'s "Guide to Guesting at a Fae Table and Still Keeping Your Head" dedicates an entire chapter to portals, and the summary is essentially: Don't. Just don't. Nothing good happens when you follow suspicious beings through magical doorways.

  Which is why I wanted to scream while sprinting through said portal after Garrick, who charged through it while shouting something heroic that I'm sure sounded very impressive.

  The transition hit like diving into ice water while someone spins you in circles. My stomach lurched, my vision blurred into streaks of color that I had never seen nor could hope to describe, unless you can visualize "light flurpy" as a new crayon. For one horrible moment I was convinced that every molecule in my body was trying to go in different directions. Then reality snapped back into focus with a sensation like being slapped across the face by warm honey.

  I stumbled, nearly lost my footing, and caught myself against something that felt like marble but hummed with barely contained energy. My vision was still swimming, so it took me a moment to process what I was seeing.

  We were definitely not in Paris anymore.

  The first thing I noticed was the light. It was wrong, or rather, it was too right. Noon sunlight that felt like it had been distilled into its pure essence, warm and inviting and somehow slightly intoxicating just to stand in. The air smelled like summer flowers and ripe fruit and something underneath that made my hindbrain whisper warnings about venus flytraps.

  The second thing I noticed was that we were in the middle of what appeared to be a marketplace, and Garrick had just crashed directly through a produce stand.

  "Oh, for the love of fu—" I started, but I was interrupted by an impressive string of what I was pretty sure were curses in a language that predated most modern civilization.

  The produce vendor was approximately three feet tall, covered in gray fur, and had a tail that was currently lashing back and forth with the kind of agitation that suggested genuine rage. It took me a second to process that I was looking at a squirrel. An angry, talking squirrel who was currently berating Garrick in what I could only describe as the most creative profanity I'd ever heard.

  "—and you can take your cosmic-powered foot and shove it directly up your—" the squirrel was saying, gesturing at the destroyed stall with tiny, furious paws.

  "I'm terribly sorry," Garrick said, already moving past the wreckage while his eyes scanned the market for Lucien. "I'll pay for the damages, I promise, but I really must—"

  "PAY? You think PAYMENT fixes this? These were PERFECTLY RIPE starfruit, you absolute WANKER!"

  I was trying to process the fact that the squirrel had just called Garrick a wanker when I caught sight of our quarry. Lucien Leblanc was about thirty yards ahead, moving through the crowd with the kind of effortless grace that suggested he could navigate a minefield in the dark while blindfolded. He was tall, dark-haired, and dressed like someone who had raided a Parisian fashion magazine from three different centuries simultaneously. His coat was impeccable despite the chase, his smile was infuriating, and he was currently looking directly at us with an expression that could only be described as delighted.

  He gave us a small wave, like he was greeting old friends at a garden party.

  "GARRICK!" I shouted, but he was already moving, cosmic energy crackling around his hands as he launched himself forward.

  This was when things got worse.

  Because Garrick, in his infinite cosmic wisdom and complete lack of situational awareness, had apparently decided that the best way to catch a thief in an unknown marketplace was to run directly through said marketplace at speeds that normal physics shouldn't allow. Stalls exploded in his wake. Merchandise scattered. Several beings who I couldn't quite classify dove out of the way, and I heard more creative cursing from at least four different species.

  I was running after him, my notebook bouncing against my hip, mentally calculating how much this was going to cost us and whether our "very important client" was going to cover interdimensional property damage. Three years of this job had taught me that the answer was usually "no."

  "Garrick!" I tried again, dodging around a cart selling what appeared to be living flowers that were currently shrieking in distress. "GARRICK, STOP!"

  He didn't stop. Of course he didn't stop. Garrick "stopping to think" would require him to stop moving, and I was pretty sure he was physically incapable of that when he was in hero mode.

  Lucien, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. He wasn't even running hard. It was more like a leisurely parkour demonstration through an obstacle course. He vaulted over a fountain that was flowing upward instead of down, slid across a table covered in jeweled fruits that I instinctively knew we shouldn't touch, and landed in a perfect crouch that somehow didn't disturb a single item around him.

  Then he turned, and this time his smile was absolutely radiant.

  "Come now, Garrick!" he called out, his accent making even taunting sound sophisticated. "Surely the great Garrick the Gallant can catch one simple thief!"

  "OH I'M GOING TO CATCH YOU!" Garrick bellowed back, and I watched in horror as he tried to take a shortcut by jumping directly over a stall selling pottery.

  He didn't make it.

  The crash was spectacular. Pottery exploded. The vendor waved his seven arms, and with a deserved lack of patience, started screaming. And Garrick, covered in glowing ceramic shards made from enchanted clay, stumbled forward still trying to keep Lucien in sight.

  I was rapidly reassessing every life choice that led me to this moment. The bar job at The Crossroads was perfectly safe. I could have stayed there. I could have been mixing drinks for selkies and werewolves and taking notes about their steak temperature preferences, instead of chasing cosmic disasters through what I was increasingly certain was the actual Fae Realm.

  Because yes, I had figured it out now. The too-perfect light, the talking animals, the sense that the air itself was slightly drunk on its own existence…we were in Fae territory. Which meant we were operating under their rules now. Rules that I had been reading about but had zero practical experience with. Rules that Garrick almost certainly didn't remember or never knew in the first place.

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  "Garrick!" I shouted one more time. "We need to STOP and THINK about this!"

  "No time for thinking!" Garrick yelled back, which was possibly the most Garrick sentence ever constructed. "He's getting away!"

  Lucien had reached what appeared to be the edge of the marketplace, where the stalls gave way to flowering gardens and marble paths that led toward structures that made my eyes bug out when I looked at them directly. Nude statues that showed figures so incredibly beautiful that I almost felt compelled to stop and talk. To a statue. Lucien paused at the threshold, turned, and for the first time, he looked directly at me instead of Garrick.

  His expression shifted into something that might have been respect. Or amusement. Or both.

  "Ah, Monsieur Sullivan," he said, and the fact that he knew my name sent ice down my spine despite the warm air. "Always the voice of reason. Always trying to prevent disaster." He glanced at the destruction in Garrick's wake and his smile widened. "I do hope you've read your E.W. I hear his chapter on Fae law is particularly illuminating."

  Then he stepped backward through an archway covered in blooming roses, and vanished.

  "NO!" Garrick surged forward, power crackling around him like barely controlled lightning.

  And this was when I noticed the official.

  They appeared from nowhere…or more accurately, they had probably been standing right there the whole time and we just couldn't see them because Fae. They were tall, androgynous, beautiful in the way that made your eyes water if you looked too long (and certain other regions of the body stir subconsciously), and dressed in flowing robes that seemed to be made of woven sunlight.

  They were also holding what appeared to be a ledger, and their expression was the kind of polite neutrality that came right before someone ruined your entire day.

  "Garrick the Gallant," they said, their voice carrying across the market with perfect clarity. "Also known as Garrick of the Infinite Ways, Herald of the Cosmic Paths, Guardian of—"

  "Yes, yes, that's me," Garrick interrupted, still trying to move toward where Lucien had disappeared. "I'm very sorry about the mess, but I'm in pursuit of a thief and I really must—"

  "You have caused destruction during pursuit within the bounds of the Summer Court," the official continued as if Garrick hadn't spoken. "Property has been damaged. Commerce has been disrupted. The Market Peace has been violated."

  I felt my stomach drop. This was it. This was the moment where we found out exactly how badly we had screwed up.

  "I'll pay for it!" Garrick said quickly. "Whatever the cost, I'll pay for the damages. I'll make it right. But first I need to catch—"

  "Under the Law of Consequential Guardianship," the official said, consulting their ledger, "any being who causes chaos while in pursuit of another is deemed responsible for all subsequent actions of the pursued party."

  There was a moment of silence. Even the angry squirrel had stopped cursing.

  "I'm sorry," I said, stepping forward because someone needed to actually think about what was happening here. "Could you clarify what that means exactly?"

  The official looked at me, and their expression didn't change, but I got the distinct impression they were pleased that at least one of us was asking the right questions.

  "It means," they said with careful precision, "that Garrick the Gallant is now legally responsible for all actions taken by Lucien Leblanc while both parties remain within the Fae Realm. Any debts Lucien incurs, any laws he breaks, any chaos he causes—all of it falls under Garrick's guardianship."

  "That's absurd!" Garrick sputtered. "He's a thief! I'm trying to stop him from causing chaos!"

  "The law does not concern itself with your intentions," the official replied. "Only your actions. You pursued him through the marketplace. You caused destruction in your pursuit. Therefore, you are his guardian."

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then to twenty. E.W.'s guide had mentioned Fae law being Byzantine and deliberately trap-like, but I hadn't quite grasped the full implications until right now.

  "How long does this guardianship last?" I asked, because if we could just leave the Fae Realm, maybe we could break the connection.

  "Until one of three conditions is met," the official said, ticking them off on elegant fingers. "First: the pursued party leaves the Fae Realm. Second: the guardian completes a Task of Atonement set by the Court. Third: both parties perish, though that is generally discouraged as it creates additional paperwork."

  "Right," I said faintly. "Of course."

  From somewhere in the gardens beyond, I heard laughter. Lucien's laughter, rich and genuinely amused, carrying across the perfect summer air like he was having the best day of his life.

  Which, I was realizing, he probably was.

  Garrick looked at me, and for the first time since we had crashed through the portal, I saw comprehension dawning on his face. "Mac," he said slowly. "Did we just—"

  "Walk directly into a trap?" I finished. "Yes, Garrick. Yes, we did."

  "Oh."

  The official cleared their throat. "If you would be so kind as to follow me, Garrick the Gallant and companion, you are summoned to present yourselves before the Court of Summer. Given the circumstances of your arrival and the nature of the law you have invoked, your presence is required."

  "And if we refuse?" Garrick tried.

  The official's smile was perfectly pleasant and absolutely terrifying. "Then you would be in violation of Court summons, which carries its own penalties. I do not recommend that course of action."

  I looked at Garrick. He looked at me. In the distance, I could hear what sounded like a deer bugling aggressively, and I was trying very hard not to think about what a "Task of Atonement" might involve.

  "Mac," Garrick said quietly. "I'm sorry."

  "We'll figure it out," I told him, because what else could I say? "But Garrick?"

  "Yes?"

  "Next time someone opens a mysterious portal and runs through it, maybe we stop and consider whether chasing them is actually a good idea."

  "Noted," Garrick said, looking genuinely contrite.

  The official gestured toward a path that wound through gardens that smelled like every perfect summer day I had ever experienced. "This way, please. The Court is expecting you."

  As we followed them deeper into what I was now certain was the Summer Court of Fae, I noticed the light getting warmer, the flowers getting more vibrant, and the air taking on a quality that made me think of E.W.'s warnings about intoxicating atmospheres and lowered inhibitions.

  I pulled out my notebook and started writing, because if we were going to survive this, I was going to need to document everything. The market. The law. The official. The fact that Lucien Leblanc knew exactly what would happen when he led us through that portal.

  "Mac?" Garrick asked as we walked. "What are you writing?"

  "Everything," I told him. "Because when we get out of this—and we will get out of this—I'm writing my own damn guidebook. 'Mac Sullivan's Guide to Not Getting Trapped by Fae Law When Your Partner Is a Cosmic Disaster.'"

  Despite everything, Garrick laughed. "That's a very specific title."

  "I'm working on a very specific problem."

  The path ahead opened into what appeared to be a palace made of living marble and flowering vines, and I could hear music drifting from somewhere inside. Beautiful, compelling music made one part of me want to dance, while another part of me wanted to remove all my clothes, and the logical part of me wanted to run in the opposite direction.

  We were really doing this. We were about to meet the Summer Court, bound by laws I barely understood, responsible for a thief who had planned this entire disaster, and our only advantage was three years of partnership that had taught us both how to survive when everything went sideways.

  I took a deep breath of the intoxicating summer air (which immediately filled me with a minor euphoria), and I mentally added "make Fae antidotes" to my very long list of things I was going to need for our stay here.

  "Alright, Garrick," I said as we approached the palace entrance. "Let's go meet the Fae. Try not to accidentally propose to anyone or start a war."

  "I'll do my best," Garrick promised.

  "That's what I'm afraid of," I muttered, and we stepped through the archway into the Court of Summer.