I nodded. “Is she awake?”

“She was,” said the scaled woman. “Wakefulness comes and goes. Please don’t stay too long. She isn’t strong.”

“I won’t.” I turned to look at Walther and Marcia.

They shook their heads, a few beats out of unison. Walther gestured me forward, saying, “It’s better if . . . it’s just better if we don’t.”

“. . . Right,” I said, and swallowed hard. I’ve faced down killers, crazy Firstborn, and the Queen of the Mists. None of those could compare to the fear I felt as I stepped forward to push the dangling curtain of willow boughs aside, squared my shoulders, and stepped through.

The inside of the grove was filled with a hot, thick mist, practically turning it into a sauna. Sweat beaded on my skin almost instantly, and the moisture soaked into the fabric of my gown, making it hard to move. It wasn’t entirely dark inside the trees; pixies clung to the branches overhead, their pale glow barely providing enough light to navigate. I started forward, moving slowly as my eyes adjusted.

“Lily?”

Like so many things in Lily’s knowe, the grove seemed to be bigger on the inside than the outside. I walked a good twenty feet before a shallow pool came into view, filled with shadows that resolved, between one blink and the next, into Lily. I stopped dead, clapping a hand over my mouth as I tried to make myself believe what I was seeing. It wasn’t easy, because what I was seeing was impossible.

Walther and Marcia said Lily was sick, but they hadn’t been able to make me really understand what they meant. I understood it now. And I didn’t want to.

“Lily?” I whispered, taking another hesitant step forward.

“Ah.” It was more a sigh than a fully shaped word, accompanied by a slight slumping of already halfsubmerged shoulders. Her head was propped up on a cushion of moss; the rest of her was under the water, cloaked by the thin black shroud of her unbound hair. “My October. I wondered when you’d find your way here.” Her accent was stronger than I’d ever heard it, all traces of San Francisco shed in favor of a Japan that died centuries ago. “Come here, my dear one.”

“I’m here.” I stumbled through the last steps to the pond’s edge, where I dropped to my knees in the damp moss.

Lily didn’t look any better viewed up close. Her skin was waxen, and the scales around her eyes were dull, all their shine leeched away. She was too thin, and too faded. “I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. Who brought you?”

“Marcia and Walther. I would’ve worried even more if I’d found out later than this.”

“Really? That might have been a taste of your own medicine.” She turned toward me, eyes opening. I bit my lip to stop the words that threatened to escape. The green had run out of her irises, leaving them the dark, undefined shade of deep water. “They brought you for nothing, because nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.”

“You don’t look tired. You look—” I let the sentence trail off, unsure how to finish. She looked like she was dying.

“I know how I look.” Lily sighed again, eyes drifting gradually shut. “I thought it was something in the water, some new weed killer being washed in from the park. The world isn’t as clean as it was when I was young, and I thought it would pass. It didn’t.”

“How long ago did this start?”

“Sometime last week. I asked Walther—dear Walther, you should get to know him better. He’s Tylwyth Teg; your mother would approve. He works at one of the mortal universities. I asked him to take my water for testing.” The skin at the base of her jaw split as she shook her head. Brackish water trickled from the wound. “He found nothing. But something’s wrong.”

“You’re going to be fine.”

“Am I? I wonder. What will happen to my children when I’m gone? They’ll have no one to care for them without me.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” I said fiercely. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Oh, October. If repetition were healing, you’d have me saved in an instant.” She smiled, sending water cascading down her throat. “You were always so fierce, even when you were just a tributary of Amandine’s greater river. But her river is dry now, while you run toward the sea.”

“Lily, please.” I put a hand on her shoulder. Her skin was like ice.

“What?” Her smile died, replaced by confusion. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to find the words. You’ll try to save me, because that’s your nature; it’s what you are. But please, if you do anything, make sure my children are cared for. They need you more than I do.”

It took me a moment to compose myself. Finally, I said, “I promise.”

“Good.” She sank lower in the water. “I’m sorry, but I’m so tired . . .”

“It’s all right,” I said, pulling my hand away. “Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

I stood carefully, backing out the way I’d come in. If Lily was aware that I was leaving, she didn’t give any sign. She didn’t give any sign of being aware of anything at all. She just stayed in her pool, silent and unmoving, and let me walk away.

FIVE

LILY’S HANDMAIDENS STEPPED ASIDE AS I made my way out of the willows. They didn’t need to ask what I’d seen; they knew. My feet carried me to the moon bridge without any orders from my brain, which was entirely occupied with reviewing Lily’s condition. Oak and ash, how was this happening? Lily’s illness was an impossibility. Faerie thrives on the impossible, but some rules aren’t intended to be broken. Undine don’t get sick. Lily was sick.

I was missing something.

The passage from Lily’s knowe to the mortal world was still smooth; she might be sick, but she hadn’t completely lost her grip on her domain. That was probably a good thing. I stepped off the bridge, my feet carrying me toward the gate.

“Toby?” said Marcia. I hadn’t realized she was there until she spoke. That wasn’t good. I was worried about Lily, but that didn’t mean I could zone out completely.

Stopping where I was, I turned to face the moon bridge. Marcia and Walther were standing at the base, watching me. Tears ran freely down Marcia’s cheeks. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know where to begin.