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‘Well at least you got that bit right,’ says Nan. ‘Glamouring, eh? And it worked?’

‘Yes.’

‘She did a great job,’ Zara says brightly.

Nan blinks. ‘Well. Good. You all look wrung out from your adventures, I must say. Food is what we need now.’

She gives me a long, stern look so I know we’ll be talking again later, but for now, she seems happy enough to boss me and Zara around the kitchen. We make spaghetti with garlic and fresh tomatoes, and green beans from the garden. Zara flits about with me, her eyes filled with wonder at everything; even the battered old colander is charming and needs inspecting. Teacake remains curled before the fire while we cook, and Peg watches it all closely from the mantelpiece, occasionally sending sparks up the chimney with a flutter of his wings. Nan billows around us, and she’s just as bossy and chiding with Zara as she is with me, but the more she does it, the brighter Zara glows.

When dinner is ready, we set the table together, and suddenly it hits me that I’ve never done this before. Never had to lay the table for more than just me. Yanny stirs and stumbles up, fetching salt and pepper, raiding the drawer for the old steel cutlery and sending it flashing across the table.

And then we sit. Yanny, Zara and I, and Peg with his special old tin plate in one corner of the table; Teacake with her gold-rimmed saucer in another.

‘You said you have an imp?’ whispers Zara.

Peg fixes his dark bird eyes on me.

I shrug. ‘He’s good at disguise.’

‘It’s the bird,’ Yanny says with a yawn, picking up his cutlery and spearing a strand of spaghetti with the fork. ‘Imps like being birds. They like to fly; they like to look down on others.’

‘Ridiculous,’ says Peg.

Zara stares, her eyes wide as saucers.

‘Go on, show her,’ says Yanny. ‘She’s already seen plenty today; it’s a bit late to be pretending it all isn’t real.’

Peg growls, his form blurring, stretching and re-forming.

‘Wow,’ says Zara.

‘Isn’t he lovely,’ Nan says with a smile.

‘You’d better tell us what you’ve got planned next,’ says Peg around a mouthful of food. Teacake eyes his tail as it swats against the table, and before I can do anything, she’s pounced on it.

Peg squeals, jumping up and swiping at her; Nan is so surprised, she loses her grip on her chair and floats up into the air; and I start flapping about, trying to separate the kitten from the imp. Yanny watches this all with a delighted grin on his face, and Zara beams.

‘Amazing,’ she whispers, amid the smash of plates on the floor, the silver whirl of cutlery as Peg whips his tail across the table. Teacake jumps up and clings to the candelabra, swinging from the ceiling, sending beams of light and shards of shadow across the room. Nan has virtually disappeared in the chaos.

‘Enough!’ I shout, grabbing Teacake and pulling her on to my lap. The kitchen slowly settles. ‘We need to work out how to get Yanny home.’

‘I can just walk?’ he says, taking another wedge of bread from the dish in the middle of the table. His plate is sparkling clean already, and he does look a lot better.

‘Not on your own,’ says Zara.

‘Who made you the boss?’ he demands. ‘I’m fine now. Thank you for your help, but I am perfectly capable of making my way home all by myself.’

‘Your judgement is impaired,’ I say.

‘And Mrs Mandrake said you can’t glamour for a few days . . .’ adds Zara.

‘I don’t need to glamour just to get home. It’s only over there.’ He points vaguely in the direction of the back door.

‘But –’ Nan sighs, collecting herself and sitting back at the table, her face serious as she stares at me before turning to him – ‘you shouldn’t go in alone if you are unwell. Stella and Zara can join you.’ Her gaze lingers on the curve of his would-be wings. ‘I would come if I could, but my time has passed for that. Perhaps Peg could travel with you all.’

‘Ah, no,’ says Peg. ‘I’ll keep the boundaries here. The nights are getting longer, and the shadows stretch further these days.’

He never did tell me why he’s not allowed in there – I forgot in all the drama of finding my mother’s acorn and meeting my father’s shadow. But it doesn’t seem quite the time to ask right now.

‘Is it safe for Zara?’ I ask Nan. I can’t quite believe she’s OK with me going in there. She isn’t, I realize, as I look at her. She’s pale, and her edges are tattered, almost vibrating. She isn’t OK with it at all. It’s just that there’s no better option. ‘I mean, with her being human . . .’

‘Safer,’ Nan says. ‘The shadows won’t have any hold over her. In fact, she’s about the best company you could have in there. Teacake will go too, no doubt. I wouldn’t have any of you go in there alone.’ She gives me a hard stare.

Zara glows. ‘You see. Humanity has its own power.’

‘Humanity has all the power,’ Yanny mutters, standing. ‘Only not in the forest right now. Come on, then – let’s get this over with.’

Zara pulls a face at me. ‘Makes him grumpy, being sick.’

‘I’m not sick. Just tired.’ He pulls his coat on and turns to Nan. ‘Thank you, Mrs Brigg, for dinner. It was lovely, but I really must go.’ He stalks to the door, but it’s laden with charms, and he jolts back when he touches it. ‘Stella –’ he gestures to the door – ‘if you please?’

‘Goodness sake,’ I say. I pull down the silver bells, unlocking the door and opening it to the brittle, dark night. ‘After you. Peg, will you put the bells back up?’

‘No, I’ll just leave the place unprotected,’ Peg says sarcastically.

I glare at him. I’ve got enough strop on my plate without him joining in.

Teacake scoots out ahead of us, and I give Nan a quick, grateful smile, and she nods with another one of those ‘we’ll be talking’ looks on her face. I blow her a kiss and head out after the others into the wind and the rain, unhitching all the charms around the silver wire so we can get out. Only, they’re not live. I forgot to set them again once we were inside.

‘Stella?’ Peg bounds up to my shoulder. ‘Have the barriers been down all this time?’

‘No – I just . . .’ I stare at him. ‘I took them down to let Yanny in, and then I whispered the spell so he’d be able to enter in peace. The silver at the door was working . . .’

‘But not the fence.’

‘It was only for an hour or so. What do you think might’ve happened?’

‘Probably nothing,’ he says. ‘Go on. I’ll get everything back up. Be safe, Stella. Keep your power close.’

Teacake looks up at him and opens her tiny pink mouth to yowl.

‘Yes, that’s very reassuring,’ he says. ‘I’m sure the forest will quail before you, furball.’

A look passes between them that I can’t read, and then she hisses, and bounces off to join Yanny and Zara as they start the trudge towards the dark mass of the forest.

‘What was that with Teacake, Peg?’ I ask, looking after them. ‘Is there anything I should know? How many secrets are you keeping?’

‘Oh, many,’ he says. ‘But as for that little sph—’ He chokes, as if he have a furball of his own. ‘As for that little kitten, I should say she’s exactly what she looks like: silly.’

Centauride/Centaur

Half horse, half human in appearance, powerful, and always on the front line of any conflict in the fae forest realms. Their magic is in the strength they bear, and in the weapons they wield. The bows, swords and daggers forged by their kind are unparalleled in craft or power.