Winter, in the meantime, vanished into the bedroom, leaving Phouka a note before digging through the closet to find something less mortal looking to wear.

When he returned he looked like he'd tumbled out of a fairy tale. Everything was in deep olives and plums, the fabric fitted but draped, cut to look like leaves stitched together and paired with simple dark trousers and heavy looking leather boots that matched the belt that held a small but vicious looking dagger at his hip. He looked less like a pixie, and more like some fair haired version of peter pan, heading off to battle.

On his shoulder sat Philip- Who definitely hadn't been nesting in Winter's sock drawer. The little bird was puffed up proudly, and it chirped at Sunny before fluttering over to her and perching on her head.

"I'm ready if you are," he said.