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Dayton shrugs. “I’m not going to bother offering up suggestions, because I know you’ll all shut them down.”

“Everyone hates the nicknames I give them.” Caspian sighs.

“Hey.” Dayton throws an arm around Caspian’s shoulders. “Sea Puppy is growing on me.”

“We’re not naming him Air Puppy!” I glare at them.

Caspian puts a hand to his breast in mock offense. “Did I say anything?”

“What about Jack?” Wrenley says, and we all turn to her. “Jack and the beanstalk? He went all the way to the top of the clouds.”

Nobody says anything, and she groans and turns away, covering her reddening face with her hands.

But the fae jumps down from the tree, wings fluttering, more in memory than use, I imagine, and strolls right up to Wrenley.

“Jack,” he says, staring down at her. “I love it almost as much as I love your name. Wrenley.”

21

Ezryn

“Ipresent to you, my beauteous saviors, the Forge of Onaulion.” Jack gives a low and dramatic bow, his mouth curved in a half-open grin.

I walk straight past him, unable to stop, even when my hip bumps into his and nearly knocks him over. The new isle we’re on is high above the misted sea of clouds. “What does it mean? Onaulion?”

Jack dusts off his shoulder with an exaggerated flick, his wings rippling behind him. They catch the light, iridescent and delicate, reminiscent of a moth’s but splintered at the tips, clipped so they hang in uneven tatters. “Sky fire,” he says, bouncing past me, unfazed. “Though the old tongues have more poetic translations, depending on your preference. Star burn. Moon’s breath. Fire that falls.”

Rosalina catches up, her steps light beside mine, and Wrenley follows right at her heel, eyes never leaving Jack.

It had been quite the journey, traveling here from our camp in the palace. We ventured over ruins and overgrown wilds before ascending to another isle. Like before, Rosalina and Wrenley had connected their briars, gold and rainbow black braiding together to form a bridge.

“You clever little interweavers,” Jack had said, his eyes growing wide as an owl’s when he studied the briars. “Who needs wings when you have a woven bridge of roses? Elegant, if not entirely regulation.”

Jack, for his credit, took the news that he’s been asleep for quite possibly thousands of years incredibly well. Strangely well. Beneath the helm, my eyebrow raises. He’s an enigma, and we’ve got more than enough problems to solve already without adding in a mysterious fae of the Above.

But he hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him. Yet.

Now he’s led us to this isle with a great mountain, one with a top so sharp it seems to pierce the sky. I start toward it.

Jack’s voice floats nearby as we walk. “This was the Isle of Trades once. Not just smiths but scribes, potion makers, glassblowers. There’s a library farther in, though you know what they say about books.” He chuckles to himself. “They tend to whisper back.”

He keeps talking, but I stop listening.

Because we’ve arrived.

A cavern carved into the side of the mountain looms open, and I have the distinct feeling I’m entering the mouth of a sleeping god. Within is a chamber, both feeling outdoor yet shrouded by the rock ceiling. Pillars of twisted marble line the inner walls. They must be molten glass that cooled mid-motion.

Vines hang from above, knotted with silver blossoms. Sun filters through cracks in the ceiling, scattering like coins across the ground. But there are other sources of light too: crystals that sprout from the roof and walls, glowing all colors of the rainbow. My mind races. They’re similar to the crystals that grow in the Below, yes, but I’ve seen this exact kind before.

It was in the underfae camp. I’d been in disguise, pretending to warm my hands by a crystalline fire. These gems had lit the camp, powered their technology, and given off heat.

But before I get any more distracted, I see it.

At the center, set back in a cavernous hollow that smells faintly of ash and metal…

The forge.

It is massive. The bellows alone is larger than a warhorse. The stone beneath bears ancient scorch marks, and I can only imagine what kind of blaze could scar the mountain in such a way.