Rowan and Gretta stepped back into reality from the Astral, and Rowan was relieved to find himself clothed again. Same dark gray hoodie, blue t-shirt, and jeans he’d been wearing when he first ascended. He hadn’t meant to conjure them, but honestly? Might’ve been his greatest power yet.

  Dry, mostly-clean clothes on demand. Honestly? He could get used to that.

  He could feel a dark churning in his gut—worse than chili con carne, more like evil. He was holding those demons in a pocket of chaos, but barely. A few square yards of magic-strained space, holding ten angry demons—and they were already clawing their way out.

  “You gave him his clothes back?” Bool asked. Disappointment tinged her voice.

  Rowan turned to see the Sulky leaning against the doorframe, studying him like he was an all-you-can-eat appetizer.

  “I thought you were getting to safety,” Gretta said.

  “We were. Then Gammy tried to hide under a wagon and knocked it over. Meg had to untangle the horses before they trampled him or hurt themselves. So…” Bool shrugged. “Figured you’d be back soon enough.”

  “I need to track down my brother,” Rowan said, heading toward the back door. “I’ve really been lying around way too much.”

  He paused with one hand on the frame.

  Gretta stood behind him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Waiting.

  He cleared his throat, half-turned—didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Don’t suppose you’d be up for a little ass-kicking?”

  Gretta smirked. “I was going to kick your ass if you didn’t ask. But since you did, I’ll let you tag along while I go get Thadius.”

  “He’s my brother,” Rowan muttered.

  “And you’re my backup,” she said, hefting her backpack off the floor and settling it onto her shoulders with a grunt.

  “I’m only here for the paycheck,” Rowan muttered.

  “You’re really going to leave without telling Meg?” Bool asked, amusement curling in her voice. “She might take that personally.”

  Meg walked in, dangling a goblin by the foot with one arm. “Take what personally?”

  She dropped Gammy headfirst onto the floor.

  He lay there, unconscious.

  “Is he okay?” Rowan asked.

  “Goblin,” Bool said with a shrug, like that explained everything.

  “Meg, we need to go collect Rowan’s brother from the Summer Court,” Gretta said.

  “And you were gonna sneak off?” Meg laughed. “Give me a moment to pack my thing, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Thing?” Rowan asked.

  “Don’t ask,” Bool said.

  Gretta crouched beside Gammy, gave him a shake, then slapped him lightly. “Wake up, Gammy.”

  He groaned.

  “Meg and I are heading out for a few days. I need you to keep Bool safe.”

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  Bool rolled her eyes. “With you two gone, maybe things’ll finally get interesting. Do you remember the last time we had a proper bar brawl?”

  “The day Dew moved in,” Meg said, reappearing with a massive bronze sword strapped across her back.

  Rowan blinked. “That’s your thing?”

  “That was the day she left her mark,” Meg continued, ignoring him. “After we cleaned up the bodies, no one else wanted to make a fuss.”

  “Exactly,” Bool said, sounding entirely too pleased. “Maybe now it’ll get exciting again.”

  “You two have fun,” Gretta muttered, shooting Bool a look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Bool gave her a slow grin. “You owe me, remember?”

  Gretta groaned. “Just try to keep the tavern standing.”

  “No promises.”

  Meg marched out the door, Gretta a few steps behind.

  Rowan glanced once more at the goblin and Sulky, shook his head, and followed.

  “How’d you meet those two?” Rowan asked as they rounded the front of the tavern and reached the road. He was glad to see that Gretta had made something of a family for herself here. She’d been trapped here for half her life. And she’d done more than survive—she’d made a home.

  Gretta shrugged. “Bool lives in the lake out back. She sort of came with the place. I found Gammy in the woods—lost, starving. Put him to work. He’s been solid ever since.”

  They walked side by side, the sun high overhead. Rowan felt like the trees were shifting, but every time he turned to look, they were perfectly still.

  “How’d your brother end up in the Summer Court?” Meg asked.

  “Beats me,” Rowan said. “He’s a demon. He wants something.”

  They walked in silence until Rowan spotted a massive boulder half-buried in the roadside ditch. The dirt around it was still torn up, like it had landed hard.

  He glanced around. “Should we be worried?”

  “Hill giant threw that at us,” Gretta said casually, matching Meg’s pace.

  “Do they call them hill giants because of their political prowess?” Rowan asked.

  Gretta rolled her eyes. “They’re the size of hills.”

  Rowan frowned. “Fun.”

  “The fun wears off once they hit you,” Meg added.

  “Uh… is that a foot?” Rowan pointed.

  A massive boot stuck out from a bush just off the path. Rowan was certain he could hear whispers, somewhere off to the left. He paused. Why couldn’t Meg or Gretta hear them?

  Meg veered toward it. “Might want to stick close.”

  Gretta and Rowan followed. The boot was still attached—to a giant’s skeleton, stripped clean down to bone.

  Meg nudged the boot with her foot. It toppled with a hollow clatter. “You were pretty thorough with this one.”

  “Wasn’t me,” Gretta said, frowning. “I tore up his shoulder pretty bad, but he was alive—and bleeding—when I left him.”

  Meg shrugged and turned toward the road. “Maybe he bled out. Something probably cleaned up the rest.”

  Rowan squinted at the trees. “I think you’re going the wrong way.”

  Meg stopped. Looked around. “Damn.”

  “Damn?” He asked.

  An itch had been crawling across Rowan’s chest for the last few minutes. He tugged his collar and looked down—

  A shadowy patch was blooming across his chest like malignant rorschach test. He sighed. Great.

  “We don’t have a writ from the queen,” Gretta said grimly. “I think the road’s rejected us.”

  “Near the tavern, the land’s stable,” Meg added. “But yeah. Out here? No writ, no road. It wanders off.”

  “It’s never actually done this to me before,” Gretta said, scanning the trees.

  “Probably the first time you pissed off the queen,” Meg said, not sounding particularly concerned.

  Rowan glanced between them. “Glad this all seems normal for you.” He sighed. “Which way do we go?”

  “Does any way feel more dangerous?” Meg said.

  Rowan turned in a slow circle. “Every direction feels equally cursed.”

  Gretta pointed toward a narrow gap between trees—the direction Rowan was almost sure they’d come from. “That way. Feels like something dangerous is watching.”

  Meg grinned. “Perfect. You’re the compass now.”

  She started walking, unbothered. “Stick close. If you drift too far, the forest might split us up.”

  Rowan fell into step beside Gretta. “You make it sound like it has a mind of its own.”

  “It won’t be long,” she said. “You’ll understand.”

  A branch creaked behind them, though there was no wind. The shadows were closing in, despite it being midday.