The farewell ceremony took place in the Court of Revelry, where the morning light filtered through gossamer curtains in shades of gold and amber. Ali stood with the other chosen tributes—five in total—their dove costumes from the previous night's masked ball replaced with formal traveling attire in the Summer Court's colors. The silk of Ali's gown whispered against her skin, warm gold threaded with copper that caught the light like captured flames.

  Sage, who would remain in the Summer Court, squeezed Ali's hand. "Be careful," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle music that filled the air. "Winter holds its own kind of beauty, but it's dangerous in ways we don't understand."

  Ali nodded, conscious of the weight of both the light pendant at her throat and the hidden crystal from Rhys that she'd carefully sewn into the hem of her new gown. The two seemed to pulse in alternating rhythms, like competing heartbeats.

  Queen Mirabelle made her entrance with characteristic grandeur. Gone was the elaborate peacock costume from the masked ball, replaced by a gown that seemed woven from sunlight itself. Her hair, the color of wheat in high summer, was adorned with tiny golden suns that orbited her head like a living crown. Each step she took left brief impressions of flowering vines that quickly faded from the marble floor.

  "My dear tributes," the Queen's voice carried easily through the hall, musical and warm as honey in sunlight. "Before you depart for the Winter Court, I wish to bestow upon each of you a gift—a token of the Summer Court's eternal warmth to carry with you into the frost."

  Ali felt Melody-in-Moonlight's presence before she saw her. The fae musician had positioned herself near one of the gossamer curtains, her expression unreadable. When their eyes met briefly, Ali noticed a flicker of something—concern? warning?—cross her features.

  Queen Mirabelle approached the first tribute, a tall girl named Clara with auburn hair. "Kneel, dear one," the Queen murmured. As Clara sank to her knees, Mirabelle placed her hands on either side of the girl's face. For a moment, golden light suffused Clara's skin, and she gasped softly as if in pleasure.

  "My blessing," the Queen explained, helping Clara to her feet, "will ensure you never forget the warmth of summer, even in winter's coldest embrace."

  One by one, she moved through the tributes. Thomas, a quiet boy who excelled at growing things. Elena, whose voice could charm birds from the trees. Marcus, who had shown remarkable skill with light-weaving. Each received the same blessing, each experienced the same moment of golden radiance.

  Finally, the Queen stood before Ali. This close, her beauty was almost painful to behold—like staring directly at the sun. "Kneel, Alison Briar Aurelia Hughes," she commanded, using Ali's full name with deliberate precision.

  Ali felt the weight of the name settle around her shoulders like a cloak as she sank to her knees. The silver bracelet from her mother seemed to grow cooler against her wrist, while both the pendant and crystal pulsed more intensely.

  Queen Mirabelle's hands were warm as summer noon when they cupped Ali's face. "You, my dear, have shown such promise," the Queen murmured, her voice pitched for Ali's ears alone. "Such unique gifts. It would be a shame to see them go unused in the frozen waste of the Winter Court."

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  The golden light began to suffuse Ali's skin, and with it came a sensation of warmth that spread through her entire body. It felt like lying in a sun-drenched meadow, like drinking warm honey-wine, like being wrapped in her mother's embrace. For a moment, Ali wanted nothing more than to lean into that warmth forever.

  But beneath the warmth, almost imperceptible, was something else. Ali's silver bracelet grew colder still, and the crystal sewn into her hem seemed to pulse in warning. There was a sharp edge to the Queen's magic, like thorns hidden beneath rose petals, like poison mixed with honey.

  The Queen's thumbs stroked Ali's cheekbones once, almost tenderly. "Carry summer in your heart, dear one," she whispered, and Ali felt something take root inside her—something that bloomed with golden warmth but bore edges like broken glass.

  When the Queen helped her to her feet, Ali caught a glimpse of Melody-in-Moonlight's face. The fae musician's expression was stricken, though she quickly masked it. Near another curtain, Ali spotted Nightshade-Among-Stars and his sister Twilight-Stars-Dancing, both watching the proceedings with unreadable expressions.

  "The Winter Court awaits," Queen Mirabelle announced, her voice once again filling the hall. "May you serve as shining examples of the Summer Court's grace and generosity."

  The Winter Court delegation stood ready to receive them. Their formal attire seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, creating the impression of shadows given form. Ali thought she glimpsed Rhys among them, but couldn't be certain—all the Winter fae wore hooded cloaks that obscured their features.

  As the tributes moved to join the Winter delegation, Ali felt the Queen's "blessing" settle deeper inside her, like a seed taking root in fertile soil. The warmth remained pleasant, but she couldn't shake the sensation of wrongness that accompanied it. Her mother's silver bracelet remained cool against her skin, a constant reminder of the need for caution.

  Sage hugged her fiercely. "Write to me," she whispered. "If you can."

  "I will," Ali promised, though she wasn't certain how communication between courts worked.

  Melody-in-Moonlight approached next, ostensibly to bid farewell to all the tributes, but her attention focused on Ali. "Remember what I taught you about harmony," she said softly. "Sometimes the most beautiful music comes from unexpected combinations of notes."

  Ali nodded, understanding that Melody-in-Moonlight wasn't really talking about music. The pendant at her throat and the crystal in her hem seemed to pulse in agreement.

  As the Winter delegation prepared to depart with their new charges, Ali glanced back one final time. Queen Mirabelle stood radiant and benevolent, every inch the generous sovereign sharing her subjects with an allied court. But for just a moment, Ali thought she saw something else in the Summer Queen's eyes—a calculating satisfaction that sent a chill down her spine despite the warm glow of the "blessing" inside her.

  The Winter fae moved with liquid grace as they escorted the tributes from the Summer Court. Ali fell into step beside a tall figure she thought might be Rhys, though she still couldn't see beneath the hood of his cloak. The crystal sewn into her hem pulsed steadily now, a cool counterpoint to the warm weight of the Queen's magic.

  As they crossed the threshold between Summer and Winter territories, Ali felt the change immediately. The air grew crisp, and her breath fogged in front of her face. The five tributes huddled closer together, but Ali noticed that the Summer Queen's blessing did indeed seem to ward off the worst of the cold.

  Behind them, the warmth and light of the Summer Court receded like a dying sunset. Ahead, the path wound through trees adorned with frost, their branches creating abstract patterns against a pearl-gray sky. Ali shivered, the cold settling into her heart a match for the chill in the air. Her mother's silver bracelet, Melody-in-Moonlight's warning, the pendant and crystal that seemed to work in harmony despite their opposing natures—all of these might help her unravel whatever Queen Mirabelle had set in motion.

  The question was whether she could do it before the thorns beneath the rose petals drew blood.