"It's called…" Violet paused, trying to decide how best to translate the fae words into English. It was an old name, older than nearly all the fae, and though the language had not fundamentally changed in that time, she knew certain pronunciations had drifted, subtleties of connotation shifting. Perhaps it shouldn't be translated to English at all, to better represent its age. "Regis Som. The city of mirrors."

Sirius frowned, squinting at the tower. They were close enough to see the city-sized court clustered around it, light gleaming off roofs that shone like jewels. "Doesn't look natural," he said.

"It probably isn't," Violet said. "You have to understand, the fae were ruling empires before humans even mastered fire. Some things here are ancient. It's not always possible to separate fact from myth—if, indeed, there's even a meaningful distinction to be made."

"Looks pretty real to me."

"I don't disagree, but before today, I would have hesitated to claim even that much. Those of Winter rarely make it this deep into Summer, and if they do, they usually don't return."

Sirius stopped for a moment. "Let me guess. Some of the myths involve a healing fountain at the very top of that thing."

"Oh, it's considerably worse than that," Violet said grimly.

"Of course it is," Sirius said, sighing.

She took a deep breath. "Most of the stories go something like this: in the old, old days, Summer and Winter were at peace. Hell, maybe there wasn't a Summer and a Winter, or at least no true distinction between them. Olumnus, who was the King of Summer—or whatever they called themselves then, and the Queen of Winter, who may or may not have been Mab—yes, the one I killed—were one big happy family. Maybe siblings, maybe lovers, maybe both. But things go sour for one reason or another, and they're filled with the burning need to murder each other. With me so far?"

Sirius snorted. "Sure."

"So they have this absolutely massive, cataclysmic battle, where the lines between Summer and Winter are drawn and thousands upon thousands of fae slaughter each other. Apparently the mortal world suffered through decades of storms and droughts afterward. So, while their forces bloody the ground, Olumnus and the Winter Queen fight for a year and a day across the skies of the Wyld, laying waste to all they pass over. But eventually, the Winter Queen looks down on the devastation and sheds a tear. So she turns to Olumnus, and she begs for an end to the pointless conflict and for him to embrace her once more. And he did."

"Judging by what I've heard about Winter fae, I think I can guess where this is going."

"Yeah. She cut his throat as he embraced her, and Olumnus fell from the sky. It's said that he struck the ground with such force that he leveled a mountain but for its core, which he remained upon so that none would stand above him, even in death. Such was the grief of his followers that they swore there would never be another King, and Summer has retained their… flexible structure ever since."

"And that's the tower. Supposedly."

"Right. But it gets better. Some sources say that it's not that Summer didn't want to have a new king—it's that they couldn't, because Olumnus was not entirely gone. See, Maeve being Queen doesn't mean her only purpose is to order people around. The Queen… reflects and reinforces Winter's glory. Even if she doesn't take the field herself, every time a son or daughter of Winter does battle, she stands beside them. So, with that advantage, Summer shouldn't possibly be able to stand against us, right? But it's been at least a hundred thousand years since then, and not only is Summer not dust, they're actually on the offensive right now.

"So, one account explains this by saying that as he fell, Olumnus worked a final magic. With all his strength and that of Summer, he decreed that for as long as Winter opposed them, the blood of his veins would nourish his beloved land."

It took Sirius a moment to realize what she was implying, but he made it there in the end. "Fuck."

Violet sighed. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"This is your healing fountain?" Sirius said. "I have to drink some dead guy's blood like a freaking vampire?"

Cat was probably cackling at them both right now. Violet might been a bit annoyed by the thought, but it was an impressive trick to play. And it wasn't as if she had actually lied.

"The blood represents the revival of Summer. I have no doubt that, if drunk, it would restore someone from the very edge of death." She grinned. "Of course, I can't imagine they'd be too keen on that, so we'll have to be persuasive."

"Great," Sirius said insincerely. "And you couldn't have mentioned this little epiphany earlier?"

"I didn't know."

"Huh?" he replied. "Then how'd you know we could break the curse here in the first place?"

Violet shrugged. Now that Cat had parted from them, she didn't really have any obligation to keep her true nature a secret, but she refrained all the same. "Lucky guess."

"Fine," he snapped. "Not my business anyway, with my life on the line and all."

They continued on in silence. Ahead of them, the city of Regis Som came slowly into view. Unlike all but the very smallest settlements of Winter, it was not walled, instead spreading out in a vast, sprawling expanse. Summer had no distinct capital, but Regis Som was known to be one of its most populous courts. Raw, primal life seemed to stream out in a spiral from its center—twisting whorls of wildflowers as broad as a sailing ship spun away from the city, decorating the idyllic fields. Pixies, faeries, and sprites fluttered overhead in staggering number, following the paths of the wildflowers like wind currents. It was as if someone had taken the word beautiful and exaggerated it until it was as overwrought as a gilded lily. There was no comparison to be made between it and Winter's somber majesty.

Violet cleared her throat. "Right. Crash course in not ending up a Summer fae's pet mortal. They can't directly lie, but they know that, and they'll try to use it to their advantage to make themselves seem trustworthy while they're actually running rings around you. Don't bother trying to outthink anybody because they've had thousands of years to get disgustingly good at it. On the other hand, you're a mortal and a wizard, so in a direct confrontation, you're something to be legitimately feared. If all else fails, stick 'em with cold iron and run for it, yeah? Obviously, don't mention Winter unless you want to start a fight. Sound good?"

"Perfect. Can't be any worse than some of the parties my parents dragged me to when I was a kid," Sirius replied.

A quick smile flashed over Violet's face, and she rubbed her hands together. "Right, then. Let's desecrate some Summer royalty."

~#~

In a turn of events that surprised Violet precisely not at all, complications began only moments after they entered the city. It started off well—unlike most Winter courts, they were not stopped by armed guards before entering. In fact, there didn't seem to be any military forces in sight at all, a distinct contrast to the martial pride Winter took in its legions. That didn't mean they weren't there, of course, just that they were more circumspect in their bearing. Unfortunately, that good fortune didn't last long. There seemed to be some sort of celebration underway, and the streets were swollen with beings of every eclectic appearance imaginable. Blood red banners were strung from every surface that could conceivably hold one, and they snapped in the steady, ceaseless breeze.

It was like something out of a dream. Nearly every surface was polished perfectly smooth, and the endless reflections combined to make the dense press of bodies seem to stretch on to infinity.

City of mirrors indeed.

Violet reached out, grabbing the shoulder of a man as he pushed by. "Pardon," she said, "but could you tell a traveler the occasion for these festivities?"

He broke into joyous laughter. "Have you not heard? The news from the front is good, and the bleak bastion of the forsworn Lady of Winter has been laid to siege. The most perfidious death of our good Lord shall be avenged!"

Violet grimaced, immediately regretting asking. As far as she knew, only one Summer Lord had died in recent history—and she could still remember the rifle's crack as she assassinated him in the middle of a formal duel. Winter hissed, and she had to rapidly clear her mind as she noticed thin patterns of ice beginning to form beneath her feet. Since the Department of Mysteries, Winter had been closer to the forefront of her mind than ever before. But she couldn't afford to satisfy her anger now.

She smiled beatifically and gave the man a friendly squeeze on the arm. "Many thanks."

If she had perhaps pressed slightly too tightly, enough to leave mottled purple bruises in the shape of her fingers, well, she could hardly apologize for the strength of her enthusiasm at Summer's victories.

"What was that about?" Sirius muttered as the fae man pulled away, muttering under his breath.

"Nothing," Violet said, voice a little too cold. "We will reach the fountain tonight and set forth for Winter by dawn."

"Tonight?" Sirius half shouted. "You don't want to, I don't know, have a look around first? Count the guards? Avoid a repeat of the last time we rushed into something?"

"There's no time. Damnit. Who knows how long you have before the curse gets worse, my fucking home is under attack, and Voldemort's probably got the Ministry grovelling at his feet. We can't wait."

Sirius was silent. "Your home?"

"Yes," Violet replied tightly.

"Right then," he said. "Tonight it is."

And that was that. By the time the sun had crossed its apex and the harlequin shadows of great structures of glass were beginning to lengthen, though the first hints of twilight were still some time away, they had made their way almost to the center of the court—and Regis Som proper, the spire of rock that was all that remained of what had once been Summer's tallest mountain. The festivities seemed to naturally gravitate to it, and Violet could literally feel the pulse of Summer magic in the air, outshining even the sun in its own way.

It was quite crowded, but what most stood out to Violet was that most of the populace did not seem to actually be fae, the highest of the Sidhe. Perhaps a third were, with the rest consisting mostly of other Sidhe of various descriptions—satyrs, nymphs, fluttering faeries, wretches, and so many others. It was not something you would see in Winter; there, the largest courts were almost exclusively reserved for fae. It was sometimes said that even the lowliest servant of a court of Winter was above the strange creatures that made a home of the outskirts of the Wyld. Clearly, Summer had a different attitude.

"Merlin, this is good," Sirius said, spilling the crumbs of a meat pie all over himself. Violet had traded a bouquet of conjured flowers for a pair of them, delighting the meter-tall Sidhe. Sirius frowned. "It's not too good, is it? I mean, I'm not selling my soul or something by eating this, am I?"

Violet rolled her eyes. "No. You're just extra hungry." She sighed. "This is really, really not going to be fun."

Now that they were closer, they could see spiral stairs wrapping around the tower, from the ground up to the clouds. They had no apparent support and without magic would surely collapse. A dark liquid cascaded over them, running down the stone to soak into the earth below. The stairs were less than a meter wide; slickened by liquid and with no such concession to practicality as a railing, it would be lethally hazardous to climb at night.

Around the massive column of earth and stone was what appeared to be a botanical garden. Immaculate grass paths wound between exotic-looking trees and pools of crystalline water. A fence of brass bent into elaborate floral arrangements separated it from the rest of the city, and two fae in red uniforms stood at the gate. Violet raised an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure we're stuck out here with the riffraff."

"Wow. Now I really do feel like I'm back at one of Abraxas's parties. Mum didn't trust me with the 'decent folk,' so she'd make me sit with the servants."

"I can't possibly imagine why," Violet said, devoid of the slightest perceivable hint of sarcasm.

"Eh, I probably had more fun that way anyway," Sirius said. "Some of those guys were pretty cool."

He nodded toward the gate. "How're we going to get to the fountain if it's only for the 'important' folks, though?" He winced slightly at the word "fountain."

An expression of pure, malicious glee came over Violet's face, any worry for Satria and her court forgotten for now. "Simple," she said. "We accessorize."

~#~

As a rule, inhabitants of the Wyld loved gold, silver, rubies, emeralds, electrum, sapphires, and anything else that glints prettily and has been killed over on numerous occasion. Even better, mortal currency usually carried weight well beyond its intrinsic value for its novelty alone.

Unfortunately, there had to be an exception to every rule.

"Your plight is no doubt worthy of sympathy," said Lilian as she brandished a threaded needle with the same thoughtless ease as a knight did his blade. "Alas, I have no taste for baubles."

Violet sighed. The fae didn't really have any kind of economy that a human would recognize. None of them actually needed wealth, but appealing to greed was usually at least worth the attempt. It was certainly less risky than the alternative.

At least they were finally out of the heat. Outside, it was stiflingly hot. The sun's heat was endless and without any single direction, reflected back and forth as it was across thousands of sheets of glass, bronze, silver, and gold. Lilian's parlor was tastefully furnished and practically dripping with expensive-looking cloths and garments.

"Come now," Violet said. "How often do you get the chance to dress a human?"

Lilian didn't look particularly impressed. "More than infrequently. The courtiers do so enjoy their toys." She put down the dress she had been adjusting. "If your liege can't take the time to come here themselves, they can dress their dolls in rags."

"Liege," Violet repeated, disbelieving. "Think I'm one of your pets, do you? That's a dangerous assumption to make."

"Oh, spare me," Lilian said, sniffing. "If you aren't one now, you will be tomorrow."

A smile crossed Violet's lips. "Now, that sounded like a statement. I wonder, if I claim it as an oath and it turns out not to come true, will you be found wanting?"

"Why you little bitch," Lilian snapped, eyes flashing white. "It was nothing more than a figure of speech. Did you actually think that would work?"

Violet could see Sirius slowly reaching for his wand out of the corner of her eye, but she stilled him with a brief gesture. If this Summer creature were eager for battle, she wouldn't be working as a couturier. She smiled.

"I don't know," Violet admitted. "But it costs me nothing either way; can you say the same?"

Lilian's countenance darkened. "Or, I could simply ensure that this is the last day you spend unchained. There are true monsters in this place, little girl, of the likes you could scarcely imagine. Monsters that would like little more than to get their hands on you."

"You could try that," Violet said, nodding. "But let me offer a deal: I will tell who I am. If, after that, you agree to serve my companion and I to the best of your ability and to keep your counsel of my words for at least one day and night, I will release you from any theoretical vow. Otherwise… you are welcome to search for a greater monster than I."

"You're certainly bold, I'll give you that," Lilian said, voice still drawn with fury. "I accept. I think you'll make an excellent fit for Sir Lars. He likes his girls young, but I believe he'll make an exception for you."

Violet leaned forward over the sewing bench to brush her lips against Lilian's ear. When she spoke, her breath came as a quiet hiss and was as cold as ice.

"My Name is Violet Lily Potter, Savior of Britain, and Fatetouched; Lady in Iron, Winter's Chosen, and Bane of Summer; I have granted eternal rest to a bright star of Summer, participated in and survived the Massacre of Lords, and brought the perennial reign of Queen Mab to an end. Would you like to be next?"

With each word, Lilian's bronze complexion grew paler, and she didn't seem to even notice as her earlobe turned black with frostbite. When Violet pulled away, she saw that the fae was very still indeed.

Lilian licked her lips in a quick, nervous movement. "Very well. I accept your offer, Winterspawn."

~#~

"I feel like a stuffed peacock."

"Well, at least you look nice."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. He now wore a rather dashing doublet, charcoal gray and imperial red. He had kept his belt with the steel buckle, now worn around black trousers. He had apparently decided to keep some of the facial hair that accumulated over the last week, but it was now trimmed sharp and glossy.

"Was that actually a compliment?"

"You could hardly do worse than the mangy dog look you had going earlier," Violet said.

Sirius snickered briefly. "At least we look the part, I suppose. But I can't help but notice we don't exactly have invitations."

Violet smiled and tapped a finger on her lip. "Don't worry. I've got that covered."

"Cool," Sirius said. They had returned to the fence surrounding the exotic gardens surrounding the spire, and he leaned casually against it, apparently unbothered by her vagueness. Either he trusted her, or he just didn't care anymore. "Incidentally, what exactly did you tell the tailor to get her to work for free?"

Violet joined him against the fence. She shrugged. "I just introduced myself. Can't help it if she took it poorly."

Evening had finally arrived, bringing an end to the day's heat. The commoners' celebrations appeared to be winding down, and the streets were slowly thinning. Distant whoops and song were still audible in the distance, but they were slowly moving toward the edges of the city.

However, for Summer's nobility, events were only just beginning.

Smiling and laughing, boisterously outgoing where Winter would have been cold and reserved, they approached the guarded gate and were allowed entrance with deep bows. It was trivial to pick out the fae from their servants—Summer's power clung to them, and though night was falling, they seemed as to be lit by day. The servants were eclectic in appearance. Violet thought she could even spot a few humans in fae's retinues. It was in the eyes. They lived at the pleasure of incomprehensible, alien beings renowned for their capricious and casual cruelty, and they knew it. Inevitably, their eyes held either fear, blissful mindlessness, or broken emptiness.

Violet turned her head in a short, subtle gesture. "Him," she said. One fae was standing alone, making no effort to enter the garden. Unlike most of the fae, who were dressed in fine garments that would have stood out on a catwalk only for their impossibly vivid colors, he wore what looked like ornamental armor, with a side sword on his waist. His fingers were white around a polished cane, and he bore a wistful expression, seen only in profile.

"I'll get him to let me in. You can follow under the invisibility cloak."

"You still have it?" Sirius asked. He frowned. "Uh, where?"

The cloak had the rather impressive property of being capable of folding into a bundle so small as fit into nearly any pocket. But Violet's dress—blue, of course; she just couldn't resist—followed the well established tradition of fashionable women's clothing not to include anything so practical. Instead, she had chosen a cut whose right sleeve extended to her wrist to conceal her wand, while the other left her shoulder bare. The asymmetry was balanced by a slit on the right side from shin to waist, perfect for energetic dancing, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin, or running at full tilt, as the case may be.

She winked at Sirius and reached down her neckline, pulling free the cloak in a billowing wave of silver. Sirius didn't look thrilled.

"It's still warm," he complained.

"Poor thing."

Running the nearly liquid material over his hands, Sirius said, "Where did you even get this? It reminds me of James's, a little. It's the only other one I've seen this high quality."

"That's because it's the same one," Violet said, rolling her eyes.

"What? But that would make it…" Sirius ticked his fingers, counting in his head. "Over thirty years old. No invisibility cloak lasts that long. Was it in your parents' vault?"

"No. I got it for Christmas."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm serious," Violet said. "The note just said it was Father's. It wasn't signed. Any idea who it might have been?"

"Got to be Dumbledore," Sirius said after a moment. "It's the sort of thing he'd pull, and he could easily have ended up with it after Lily and James… well."

He rubbed his beard. "Damn strange, though. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure James said it was in the family for a while before he got it, so who knows how old it is. I've never heard of anything like it."

Violet shrugged. "I'm not complaining. Now put it on and let me work my magic."

"Yes, mistress," Sirius said sarcastically as he pulled the cloak around himself and vanished from sight. Violet turned to the lone fae.

She glided to him, faintly able to pick out the sound of Sirius's footsteps behind her. The Knight turned to face her as she approached, and she saw that he wore a silver mask adorned with gossamer filigree over half of his face. When he opened his mouth to speak, Violet could see the skin around his mask pulling taut, as if the skin under it couldn't stretch naturally.

He stamped his cane against the stone tile path and leaned against it. "Come to salt the wound, have you? Mock the lame Knight? Have at it, then; as you are no doubt aware, I am in no state to defend my honor."

"Oh—I'm sorry," Violet said, in English, letting a note of hesitation slip into her voice. "Is this a bad time?"

The Knight regarded her coldly for a moment before seeming to relax. "Ah. A mortal. My condolences."

"What do you mean?"

"Only that you will, in all probability, never see your home again and will almost certainly suffer an unenviable fate. It's a tale as old as time."

Violet raised an eyebrow. "Well. From the look of you, you clearly know something about 'unenviable fates.'"

His expression twisted. "Indeed."

"I guess we should stick together, then," she said with a cloying giggle. "Are you going to the party? I've heard it's supposed to be incredible, but they don't just let anybody in. I guess that would make you some kind of war hero, wouldn't it?"

At once, any geniality drained from his expression and he turned aside. "Enough. Leave me." His voice was dull.

"Oh, don't give me that," Violet said, taking a step closer and resting a hand on his pauldron. She dropped her voice to a whisper, speaking English no longer. "If they meant to mock you by your invitation, the worst thing you could possibly do is show weakness to the circling sharks. They want you here alone and despondent; but if you arrive with your head high high and a woman on your arm, I challenge them to find their victory."

The Knight turned away, looking over the city to the distant sunset. After a moment, he gave a snort of amusement. "For a mortal, you have curiously adept instincts for our politics," he said dryly. "And an even better grasp of our language. Very well, then. I suppose I can fall no further by being accompanied by a human."

He offered her his arm, and she took it, smiling brightly. "My name is Violet, my good Knight. And yours?"

"Sir Knok. Though the honorific has little meaning for me anymore."

With that, they set off toward the gate to the botanical garden. Knok's every step seemed labored, and he leaned heavily on his cane. One of the guards, with auburn hair and a tightly trimmed beard, turned to face them. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Knok and bowed, deeply enough that it could only be mocking. Violet wasn't entirely sure of the social customs of Summer, but if they were anything like Winter, it was an unusual thing for a Knight to be invited to such a high status social event, especially with the war between the Courts at a fever pitch. His clear injury provided a hint at the explanation. If he sustained it in battle, that would imply that his presence here was earned by great valor… or the opposite.

Knok stoically ignored them, and soon they were among the strange and lush garden. Overhead, the spire lurked. Twisting paths carved through the foliage, and glowing lights and faraway, musical voices made wordless by distance floated between the leaves.

A tap, barely felt, on her shoulder let her know that Sirius had made it through the gate while it was opened. She smiled and leaned against her impromptu partner. "It's beautiful."

"As are you," Knok said politely.

The vegetation reminded Violet a little of the rainforest. Flowers wept sweet-smelling nectar, and vines draped over the paths like a natural ceiling. It was clearly meticulously cultivated, with every leaf or branch placed just so, to give the impression of wilderness without any of the disorder. Some plants were as soft as silk, while others were spiky and curving, like twisted succulents.

They walked through a redwood arch entwined with vines of roses, black and red. On the other side was a large, open space. The pathway faded into a single enormous sheet of black glass that perfectly reflected the figures gliding effortlessly over it. Graceful fae danced and spun around each other as well as the servants—a mixture of Sidhe and mortals—in emergent patterns that seemed impossible not to be choreographed.

Overhead, the spire loomed. It was situated on a hill, a few hundred meters distant, but dense foliage would make reaching it difficult. Up close, it was abundantly clear that physics alone could not explain its defiance of gravity. The stream of liquid, too dark to be water, cascaded downward, splashing into a spray visible even from here.

Violet glanced up at the sky. The sun's last warmth was only just fading. There was some time yet to wait.

"Have you ever been up there?" Violet asked.

Knok frowned, following her gaze. "Once. There's less of worth to see than you might think, and the Twins make for unsettling company."

"Twins?"

Knok shrugged. "I am told they watch over the King's slumber. Myself, I see only madness there. But I am only a soldier."

Violet pursed her lips, about to inquire further, when a fae woman approached, a glass of sparkling wine held loosely in one hand.

"Sir Knok," she purred. "I am so very glad you made an appearance. I know your condition must trying for a man of… courage and initiative like as yourself."

"Selene," Knok spat. "After enduring your company for centuries untold, pain can scarcely register."

Selene's smile vanished. "And who is this?" she asked, turning to Violet. "I had no idea you were courting. We simply must speak later."

"Don't even think about it," Knok said, scowling. "I've seen enough humans after you've been through with them, sister. You won't touch her."

Selene laughed. "Oh, Knok," she said. "What makes you think you could protect anyone at all?" With a final wicked smile to Violet, she turned and returned to the shifting mass of the dance floor.

"Oh, and dear brother?" she added, turning her head back to face Knok. "If something seems too good to be true, it probably is."

A brief silence followed.

"Charming sort," Violet remarked. "I suppose you can't choose family."

Knok grunted.

"I'm going to get us some drinks. Want anything in particular?"

Grunt.

Violet shrugged and set off toward the edge of the clearing, where tables of wines, spirits, and light refreshments were painstakingly attended by servants. Aside from getting her through the gates, Knok was proving to be of little use. She had hoped she would be able to delicately pry information about the spire's defenses from him, but encountering his sister seemed to have put him off. Unfortunate.

She took a pair of narrow wine glasses and cast a subtle look around, spotting Sirius in his red and gray doublet. Seeing Knok was not watching her, she approached him. "Find out anything useful?"

His eyes flicked to her, and he said, "I tried to get a look around the tower, but it's an absolute jungle out there." He handed back the invisibility cloak, which she once again stowed under her dress. The strange fabric didn't even rumple it.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I saw too," Violet said. "Best to wait for people to get nicely inebriated and for darkness to fully fall. Then we can make a go for it."

"Your new friend going to be a problem?" An element of annoyance entered Sirius's tone. "Knut, was it? Seemed to be keeping a pretty close eye on you."

"It won't be an issue. How are you feeling?"

"Like my heart's going to burst. Bloody Unspeakables."

Violet bit her lip. Sirius was deathly pale. If this didn't work, there wouldn't be another chance.

"I've got to go back," she said. "Be ready."

~#~

Summer's roses clawed at Violet as she pushed her way through the underbrush. Beneath flowers of delicate beauty, hooked thorns lay. Perhaps that was an apt metaphor for the Court itself. For all their pretenses to a higher standard of enlightenment, there was little to be found between the nature of Summer fae and Winter.

Beside her, Sirius kept up a constant stream of barely audible profanity. In the near total darkness, he probably couldn't see his own hands, let alone thorns lurking at eye-level. The moon had decided to appear as only a pale sliver tonight, despite the previous week's fullness. Its mercurial attitude may have been a boon for ill-intentioned skulduggery, but it was certainly not kind to human eyes.

The sounds of the celebration had faded to mere whispers on the wind, though no less impassioned for the lateness. Revelries would surely continue until well into the dawn.

Finally, they broke through the last barrier of vegetation. Ahead of them, the rocky spire of Regis Som loomed titanic. The spiral stairs wrapping around its expanse were white marble, shimmering in the faint moonlight as liquid flowed over them.

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius breathed as he conjured a faint yellow light now that they had the bulk of the garden between them and any potential passersby. "Is that what I think it is?"

Violet stepped up to the base of the stairway and trailed a finger through the liquid, then brought it to her lips. It was irony and familiar, but also somehow warm despite the cool night.

"Yeah."

Sirius groaned. "How can there be so much of it?"

"I'm… not sure. It's diluted, somehow. If I tried to drink the Summer King's blood directly, I'd probably burst into flames."

"Let me guess. This won't cut it."

Violet smirked. "Well, I suppose if you drank enough of it…"

Sirius sighed and craned his neck backward. "Wish we had a broom right now. But there's nothing for it, I suppose."

It was no easy going. Even for Violet, the level of slickness made every step a hazard. The blood was only a few millimeters deep, but it flowed at incredible speed. In places, it fell for dozens of meters, like miniature waterfalls, only to hurl red mist into the air as it smashed against the stone. The smell was potent, though not entirely unpleasant.

"How'd you get rid of Knob?" Sirius asked, slightly too calmly to be believed. The city below looked like little more than an assortment of toys, now, and the winds were beginning to pick up.

"Told him I was going to take a walk to see the garden," Violet said. "Probably won't even notice I'm gone. Poor bastard's got enough on his mind."

"How so?"

Violet stopped climbing for a moment, leaning against the spire's cliff face. "In short? He lost."

"Lost what?"

"Everything?" Violet shrugged. "I don't know exactly what happened, but it's an old pattern. In a society of near-immortals, there's no way to raise one's standing without tearing someone else down. He's a Knight, so it's a safe assumption that he suffered a grievous defeat at Winter's hands. There isn't much more unforgivable than failing your Court, and now that there's blood in the water, the sharks gather around him. In Winter, that would come in the form of a knife in the back. Here, it's almost crueler."

Sirius looked away from her, staring out over the distant landscape. "You know that's a bit screwed up, don't you?" He shook his head. "So, what happens to him?"

"He gets more and more desperate, taking any possible risk he can in the hopes of regaining his reputation. Maybe he manages it. Otherwise… he might just fade away entirely."

They continued on. There was a brief moment of sudden peril only a few dozen meters from the top as a gust of wind, stronger than its predecessors, caught Sirius mid-step. His other foot lost traction on the wet marble. If Violet hadn't snatched his collar at the last moment, or if the fae fabric was slightly less sturdy, it would have been a long fall indeed.

With one hand tightly gripping a crevice in the spire, Violet pulled him back up, the veins in her arm standing out at the strain.

Sirius swore, blinking rapidly. He shook her off and steadfastly continued the ascent. Finally, they reached the peak, and when they did, it was as if they had entered another world entirely.

The howling winds that had dogged their ascent vanished entirely. Far stranger, though, was that the peak was lit as if it were day. Though there was no sun in the sky, it had turned a rich blue, and the stunningly green grass was warmed by westerly light as bright as on any summer morning. Far below, the city and surrounding land remained blanketed by night.

The mostly circular plateau was about thirty meters in diameter. Four rapidly flowing streams of blood quartered its expanse, rushing from a porcelain fountain at its center. On the far side of the fountain, there was a small building, modest in construction but with a thin trail of smoke drifting from its chimney.

Violet surveyed the scene, allowing her wand to fall from her sleeve into her hand. They were not alone.

Sirius joined her, quickly moving away from the edge of the spire and the threatening drop. He looked around at the unnaturally bright sky. "Oh, that's just not right."

"Disillusion yourself," Violet said, pulling the invisibility cloak around her shoulders. "Knok said that the fountain was tended to by two twins. I'm guessing they're in the house."

Sirius did as she suggested, fading to a vague blur. It wasn't the perfect vanishing of her cloak, but it should be enough to fool all but the sharpest eyes. "Let's go," she whispered.

They crept toward the center of the plateau. The fountain was ringed by a pentagonal ring of gold-inlaid stone that was filled to the very brim with blood, so red as to be nearly black. It spilled over in thin rivulets, then was channeled to the four rivers where it flowed to the edge and off of the spire.

Literally watering Summer with his blood.

The fountain itself was swanlike, curving gracefully upward. Painstakingly etched details of incredible beauty wound over it it, leaves and flowers and a somber, elegant man knelt before an immense tree. It was shaped vaguely like a throne, with its back to Violet and Sirius.

As Violet took one step closer, moving to get a look at the front, something blinding, searing flashed, and she reared back, covering her eyes with her arm. She stumbled and fell to one knee.

"Violet!" Sirius's blurry form cried out. "Are you all right?"

Violet's only response was a low hiss. She slowed her breathing to a slow, deliberate pace as unbearable agony ripped through every inch of her skin. It lingered for what felt like hours, seeming to fade only to return stronger than before. It burned.

Finally, it faded. Violet remained hunched over for a moment, her hair falling over her eyes. A bead of sweat dropped from her nose to the grass. The cloak had slipped off her at some point and lay spilled on the ground.

"Violet," Sirius repeated, for what was definitely not the second time. "Violet, what happened?"

"You didn't see it?" Violet said, grimacing in distaste when it came out raspy. She coughed, clearing her throat. "The flash?"

"Flash—what flash?" Sirius frowned. "You just fell down. It looked… bad."

"Fucking Summer. Guess someone's not too keen on visitors bearing Winter magic." Violet waved a hand toward the fountain, face twisting into a snarl. "Get it over with. I'm about done with this place."

"Are you sure—"

"Just do it," she snapped, forcing herself back to her feet. Her skin still tingled in the memory of Summer's rebuke, and a dark anger began to stir within her.

Sirius must have seen something in her eyes, because he didn't argue. He stepped tentatively toward the fountain and, when he wasn't struck by the same magic as Violet, walked around to the front. He stopped, stepped back, and spoke.

"Uh, I think we might have a problem."

"What?" Violet snapped.

"You might want to come see this," Sirius said slowly.

Grumbling, Violet took a wide circle around the fountain, careful not to get close enough to be attacked again. When she saw the other side of the curiously throne-shaped structure, her eyebrows shot up to her hair. Sitting, serene as a statue and as beautiful as the sun with his hands crossed in his lap, was a man. His eyes were closed and his head drooped, fine red hair spilling over his shoulders, but his nostrils occasionally flared with faint breaths.

Blood wept endlessly from a precise gash across his throat.

~#~

"Is he alive?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"I…" Violet trailed off. "I don't know. The fae aren't supposed to be able to kill each other permanently, so if the Winter Queen found a way to leave him technically alive…"

"Then that would explain why there hasn't been another King," Sirius finished. "But what about us?"

"It changes nothing," Violet said. "Drink the blood. Then we go."

Sirius rubbed his neatly trimmed beard. "Are you sure about that? I'm no expert on symbolic power, but I'd bet that the blood of a living King of the fae is a lot more potent than a dead one."

Yes, of course that was true. Stars above, she had no fucking idea what would happen if Sirius—a mortal, whose actions by definition carried an intrinsic weight beyond any of the Wyld's natural inhabitants—drank that blood. But she had no doubt whatsoever what would happen if he did not.

"Do it," Violet said, an instant before her every instinct screamed out in imminent warning.

Any weakness forgotten in a flash of cleansing cold, she threw out her arm in the direction of the top of the stairs, not even bothering with her wand. The space before her grew enervated, any light passing through leeched to gray. A heartbeat later, six still-spinning bullets slammed to a stop in the dead space, trails of displaced air and suspended frost lingering in their wake.

Sirius's Disillusionment failed as he jumped in surprise at the staccato whip-cracks of gunfire, close enough together to be indistinguishable. The gunman stood at the edge of the spire, a dark silhouette against the skyline. Without a bit of haste, he moved his left hand away from the hammer of his smoking revolver to grasp the cane at his side.

Violet's heart sank. "Knok."

The figure stood still for a moment. Then he shrugged and tossed the empty pistol off the edge of the cliff. He spoke, words bitter and dry.

"Selene was right, then. It really couldn't be true." He looked around, glancing at Sirius and back to Violet and stiffened his posture. "Whatever you're trying to do, I won't allow it."

"I wish you hadn't followed me," Violet said. "Do you really think you can stop us?"

Knok ran his fingers over his cane. "Maybe not. But they can."

Violet slowly turned around. The house's door was open, and two figures had stepped out. One male and the other female, they both had the fae's ethereal beauty and looked nearly identical to the other. But their clothes were simple, even rustic, loose and flowing. They stepped forward, hands linked and looking straight at Violet.

"Bane," they said in eerie symphony, eyes blazing yellow. "Burn."

And then a star was born.

The point of light gripped between their fingers was no larger than a grain of sand, but it was brighter than the sun and whiter than white. Its terrible gaze swept across the spire's zenith, laying grass flat and shuddering as if under an unseen wind. But Violet was not so arrogant as to face her enemy's opening blow head-on. She Disapparated, materializing on the other side of the fae twins. Winter froze her blood and stilled her nerves, eager to be released being carefully restrained for weeks.

Vivid purple streaks of scarcely controlled power tore from her hand and through the air and ground alike, churning the verdant grass into the soil and encasing it evenly in a solid inch of ice. A clarion sound rang out, surely loud enough to be heard from the city below, as the Summer star clashed with her magic, annihilating mutually. Without missing a beat, Violet jabbed her wand, shattering the ice to tiny shards propelled at great speed, and transfigured them to iron mid-flight.

The fae brought up a shield, but cold iron would not be so easily denied. Enough shards made it through to cut red streaks across their perfect features.

"Impressive," they said. "We have heard tales…"

Then the female twin knelt, trailing her hand in the stream of Olumnus's blood. She brought her hand to her lips, then to her brothers. Sunlight seemed to spill from the gashes, and Violet watched in astonishment as wounds of iron closed before her eyes. Her eyes narrowed.

Violet nearly died at least a dozen times over the next minute. She couldn't remember ever feeling more alive.

It started when the rivers of blood suddenly ignited, great plumes of smoke and fire reaching well over her head. Then the grass burned and eventually, even the air itself. The world had shrunk to nothing other than those some hundred square meters of land improbably suspended in the sky. There was no more concern for Satria and her court, no lingering melancholy for her time with Cat, not a nervous thought for how her last real battle had nearly ended. Just her, her enemy, bitter winds, and shining suns.

Summer flame licked at her arm, blackening the flesh before it was extinguished by creeping ice; her curving curse pierced the man's gut and made both twins scream in shared torment as Olumnus's blood undid the wound, only to be suffered again and again as the dark magic carved branching paths through his flesh. If there was one thing she had learned in practicing mortal magic, it was that power alone would always yield to cunning.

She caught a glimpse of Sirius grappling with Knok, struggling closer to Olumnus's throne, but then a wave of fire washed toward her and she had to Disapparate again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The Killing Curse split the air, forcing the twins to let go of each other to avoid it. A crescent of silver light slipped past her guard and slashed across her ribs, biting the bone. She barely noticed.

"Burn?" she said. "All right. Fiendfyre."

The hungry, devouring inferno spread across the sky, warring against the fae's own flames. The strange, ghostly daylight began to fail as the dread curse consumed it. Gaping, seeping black wounds opened across the heavens as true night began to shine through.

The sky broke into a downpour in protest of the cursed flame. Steam rose as it splashed against its bestial incarnations, surrounding it in a spectral haze as it raged against the fae's defenses. The ebb and flow of violence rose to a crescendo, screaming power cracking stone and freezing air. With every exchange, Violet moved more swiftly and surely, but it seemed to be for naught. The two fae fought with perfect unity, and their power was redoubled by their proximity to the deathless Summer King.

Through the madness, a scrawny black hound sprinted. Violet saw Sirius only out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't hesitate to cast a furious sequence of curses, forcing the twins back and securing their attention. She had abandoned any attempt to control the Fiendfyre by now, devoting her full attention to the continuing duel. The cruel flames were a danger to all now, but it was a danger Violet knew well. For the fae of Summer, fire that burned even them must have been a disconcerting thing.

Knok limped after Sirius, his side sword drawn and mask missing. Half his face was blackened and pulled taught, hardened and shining like coal. It was a familiar kind of injury. Violet had seen its like many times before on the enemies of Winter. His eyes were tortured.

"No!" he roared, bringing forth a ball of fire in his hand and flinging it, missing Sirius by less than a meter. "You will not take this from me."

He charged Sirius, utterly fixated on stopping him from reaching Olumnus. Violet raised her wand.

Acescere.

The green bolt took him in the back, plucking him into the air and depositing him, rolling, back on the smoking ground. He tried to climb back to his feet but collapsed with a strangled sound as his blood turned acidic. He reached one convulsing hand, as if trying to grasp something only he could see, before falling still.

Another shout rang out from twin throats, louder and more ardent than human. Sirius returned to his human shape next to the fountain. Dark liquid streamed from a laceration in his doublet, the size and shape clearly suggestive of a blade. The twins gathered their power, and for a moment, the light dimmed precipitously. But Sirius had already put his lips to the pulsing spray of Olumnus's blood, like a drowning man to land. The world stood still.

The twins' magic died in their hands. The areas of starry nothing in the sky slowly spread until night had once more truly fallen. And with a dry breeze, the Undying King became ash and was no more.

Expressions of abject horror crossed the faces of the Summer fae before they too blew away on the wind. Like wildfire, the phenomenon spread through the rivers of blood, drying up until it was nothing but pale, dull dust.

Golden light streamed from Sirius's eyes and mouth as the great spire, last remnant of a great mountain allowed to stand only by magic, began to sway.

"Sirius!" Violet shouted, taking an uncertain step in his direction. The Summer power that had forced her back was not gone, merely transformed, and she was wary to test herself against it again. In that moment, her godfather looked barely human. "Sirius?"

He slowly turned to face her, ground shaking beneath them. "Violet?" he said. He blinked. "I feel… good."

Then the spire collapsed.

Violet had just enough time to secure her invisibility cloak before her stomach lurched at the sudden sense of weightlessness brought on by free fall. A section of rock five meters in width sheared upward with a deafening crack, spraying her with tiny flecks of stone. Cracks ripped through the rest of the plateau as it began to literally crumble. At this rate, they wouldn't even have to worry about hitting the ground, as they'd be crushed by shifting rock or flying rubble long before it.

A grip as solid as iron took hold of the back of her dress. She grunted, legs kicking wildly, as the cloth tightened and arrested her fall. Below, the spire crumbled away, collapsing upon the city below.

She twisted around to see what had caught her. Sirius, still glowing like the sunrise, held her effortlessly with one hand. Great wings had sprung from his back, holding the two of them aloft through nothing more than empyreal light made material. His expression was oddly peaceful.

As they descended in a slow glide that carried them far beyond the city's outskirts, Violet could only think that perhaps there had been more to Cat's guidance than simple altruism.

AN: Phew. Sorry for the late update—this chapter fought for every word and just kept growing in scale. It didn't seem right to split in two though, so I stuck with it. Thanks for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed!