Rip gave a nasty grin. “We’ll show her, then, won’t we.”
“Well, we’re not tame, at any rate,” Asher said, getting to his feet. “The other lands are safer for us now. We’ll be leaving when the moon gets a little higher; we’ll wait at the Way and go through as soon as the sun rises and it opens.” He gazed down at Rook. “You can come with us, Pup, as you please. We’ll be glad if you do, and we’ll be back in this land again to see you if you don’t. You choose.”
Asher faded into the shadows. Rip followed. Tatter shot him a quick grin and then left too.
Rook put down the rabbit and got to his feet, ready to follow them. They were his brothers; he needed to follow. But the thread of connection still tied him to Fer. All he had to do was break it, and then he would go.
Fer came through the Way from the nathe, landing in the dark clearing. Phouka was tired too. He trotted along the path to his favorite meadow, where he stopped. She yawned as she slid off his broad back. The meadow smelled of grass warmed by the sun all day, and clover, and of the falling dew. “Thanks for the ride,” she whispered to Phouka, and leaned against his warm, solid side. She felt tired down to her bones. Maybe she could just lie down in the meadow and sleep until morning.
Phouka snorted.
“I know.” She straightened and patted him once more on the neck, then headed for the Lady Tree. The summer night felt cool and soft; stars twinkled overhead and a fingernail moon crept up over the trees.
A dark shadow loomed on the path before her, and before she could even catch her breath she was surrounded by pucks who jostled past her, bumping her off the path, their eyes flaming in the night. “Farewell, Lady,” one of them said; she heard a laugh and caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. Then they faded into the night and were gone.
She stared after them. The pucks, leaving. Had Rook gone with them? He might have—she’d seen a familiar-looking dog in their midst. If he was awake and well enough, he must have gone. With a sad sigh, she turned back to the path and headed on toward the Lady Tree.
As she came nearer, she saw that the lights of the houses in its branches were out; her people were asleep.
No, not everybody was asleep, she realized. There was an orange glow coming from the other side of the Lady Tree. She padded through the grass and came around the Tree and stopped, staring.
Sitting around a campfire were Fray and Twig, each with a cup of tea in her hands. Circling the fire, Fer sat down next to them. In the tree overhead, she heard her bees buzzing sleepily.
“Hello, Fer-Lady,” Fray said.
“Hello,” Twig echoed, and then gave a huge yawn. She leaned her head against Fray’s broad shoulder and sighed.
“Everything’s okay?” Fer asked.
“Yup,” Fray said. “All well.”
“Is there any more tea?”
Fray nodded and reached for the kettle that was keeping warm next to the fire.
“It’s all right, I’ll get it,” Fer said. She didn’t want to disturb Twig, who was now fast asleep. Quietly she found a cup and poured out tea.
“We thought maybe the High Ones would try to make you stay at the nathe,” Fray said.
“Oh no,” Fer answered, and yawned. “I wanted to come home.” She settled with her back against the Lady Tree, feeling its solid strength, its branches reaching high up into the starry sky, its roots plunging down into the darkest depths of the ground. All was well in her land. It would be even better if Rook were here, but she knew him well enough. He’d be back, and she could figure out then if they were really friends or not. She took a sip of tea and sighed with perfect happiness.
“That was a strange thing you did, Fer-Lady,” Fray said. “Swearing your oath to us.” She was silent for a moment, as if thinking. “It feels different.”
“It is different.” Fer remembered what the High Ones had said. “It’s a change.”
“What does it mean?” Fray persisted.
Fer gave her a sleepy smile. “It means we are friends, Fray.”
The wolf-girl nodded, smiling back. “Friends, yes, Lady. And we are kin, too.”
Yes. And kin, too.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks . . .
To this book’s intrepid first readers: Greg van Eekhout, Deb Coates, Rae Carson, and Jenn Reese.
To my editor, Antonia Markiet, whose wise guidance helped me unravel this book and knit it back together again.
To my agent, Caitlin Blasdell, whose critiques always make me a stronger writer. Thanks, too, to the Liza Dawson Agency.
To the wonderful HarperCollins team, starting with associate editor Rachel Abrams, and then editor Alyson Day, senior production editor Kathryn Silsand, editorial director Phoebe Yeh, president and publisher Susan Katz, senior art director Amy Ryan, senior designer Tom Forget, production director Lucille Schneider, associate publicist Olivia DeLeon, and cover artist Jason Chan.
To Connie Mutel, whose book The Emerald Horizon: The History of Nature in Iowa has shaped my understanding of what it means for land to be tame, and for it to be wild.
To Dozer van Eekhout-Will of the flopped-over ear.
Jon Michael Hansen for archery, Jennifer Adam for horsery, Deb Coates for doggery.
To my parents, my grrrl-power sisters—Kate, Maude, and Winnie—and to my husband and wildling children.
Ingrid, is it time for lunch?
About the Author
Sarah Prineas lives in the midst of the corn in Iowa City, Iowa, and can usually be found writing fantasy novels on a stealthy silver MacBook Air called Dash. Prineas’s Magic Thief series introduced readers to the irascible wizard Nevery and his gutterboy apprentice, Connwaer. Sarah holds a PhD in English literature and recently taught honors seminars on fantasy and science fiction literature at the University of Iowa. She has an amazing dragon action-figure collection and occasionally bakes biscuits (although she says hers never seem to turn out as tasty as Benet’s do in The Magic Thief).
Sarah is married to John Prineas, a physics professor, which comes in handy when she’s writing about magic. They are the parents of Maud and Theo. You can visit Sarah online at www.sarah-prineas.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Sarah Prineas
The Magic Thief
The Magic Thief: Lost
The Magic Thief: Found
Winterling
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Credits
Cover art © 2013 by Jason Chan
Cover design by Tom Forget
Copyright
Summerkin
Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Prineas
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Prineas, Sarah.
Summerkin / Sarah Prineas. — First edition.
pages cm
Sequel to: Winterling.
Summary: After defeating the evil Mór, Fer must compete in a contest that will either seal her fate as the ruler of the Summerlands or send her back to the human world forever.
ISBN 978-0-06-192106-3 (hardcover bdg.)
EPub Edition © MARCH 2013 ISBN: 9780062208545
[1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Identity—Fiction. 3. Shapeshifting—Fiction. 4. Contests—Fiction. 5. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.P93646Su 2013
2012026751
[Fic]—dc23
CIP
AC
13
14 15 16 17 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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Sarah Prineas, Winterling 02: Summerkin
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