“October?” asked Etienne, from beside me.

“It’s not normally that bad,” I managed. Understatement of the night. Travel through the knowes hasn’t been that bad for me since I was a kid. “Where are we?”

“We’re here,” Etienne replied.

I nodded, barely, and raised my head.

We were in a large, simply decorated room, with varnished oak walls and plain curtains draping the windows. Sylvester’s tastes have always been simpler than the rest of the knowe implies, and Luna didn’t challenge those tastes in the Ducal quarters. Looking around, I could see what the knowe would have been like without her. It was a very different world.

Luna herself was stretched out on the king-sized bed, looking small and fragile in her ornate gown. A woman sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on Luna’s forehead, gauzy mayfly wings vibrating so fast they were barely a blur. The motion cast a haze of sparkling dust through the air around her. I didn’t know her face, but that didn’t matter; the dust told me who she was.

“Jin,” I said. “How is she?”

“Her pulse is too high, she’s severely dehydrated, and her fever isn’t responding.” Jin glanced up, her pale, sharp features framed by a pageboy bob of glossy black hair. A gallows-humor smile ghosted over her lips. “Nice dress.”

“Nice face.” I put the swaddled cup on a shelf before moving toward the bed. Garm glared. I ignored him. “How fresh is the molt? Could it be interfering?”

“Wow, Toby, I didn’t think of that!” she snapped. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I came out of molt a week ago; my magic isn’t compromised. She’s just . . . not responding.”

I winced. Ellyllon are healers and hedonists. It’s not such a strange combination; both focus on the flesh. Ellyllon use their bodies hard, and Faerie’s eternally creative biology compensates for their self-destructive instincts by giving them an entirely new body every decade or so. They crack open their skins and shrug them off, like insects. A recent molt could have interfered with Jin’s powers. If that wasn’t the problem . . .

“Can you check for poisons?” I asked, half-desperately. “She was drinking something right before she collapsed.”

“That’s part of a standard health-charm. If she’s been poisoned, it’s with something I don’t know how to counter.”

“Then . . . then can you call for her mother? Maybe Acacia—”

“Luna’s the only one who can access the Rose Roads, and she’s not opening any doors right now.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell. It held the room for several minutes, until it was broken by the sound of a door opening. We all turned to see Sylvester step into the room, white-faced and shaking. Quentin slipped in behind him, apparently without attracting his notice. Sylvester’s eyes were focused on the bed.

“Luna?” he whispered. “Luna, please. This isn’t funny. Please, don’t do this.”

If Faerie was like the fairy tales say it is, his words alone would have been enough to break whatever spell Luna was under. This wasn’t a fairy tale. She didn’t move.

Jin stood. “Your Grace—”

Sylvester motioned her to silence. He was crying, tears running unchecked down his face. It felt like the room held its breath, waiting for him to move. Finally, expression bleak, he turned and looked at me. That was all. He just looked at me.

Etienne stepped forward. “Your Grace, there was a disturbance—”

“I was already looking for her.” Sylvester sounded dazed. “The roses screamed loud enough to make the sky bleed when she fell.”

“I . . . ” Etienne looked at me, clearly at a loss for words. I shook my head. Daoine Sidhe aren’t known for speaking the language of flowers, but Sylvester and Luna have been married for a long time. If anyone could teach him, it was her. “Your Grace, the Duchess collapsed without warning, and—”

“Yes. I know.” Sylvester smiled. It was just a reflex. I could see the screaming in his eyes. “Toby, what happened?”

I took a breath. “I was dancing with Connor when I caught a trace of magic that shouldn’t have been there. I told him to call the guards and followed the trace to the terrace, where I found Luna.” Quentin crossed the room while I was talking, falling into position behind me like a squire falling in behind his knight. “She seemed fine at first. Then she collapsed.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine again. She always is.” He moved closer to Luna, bending to smooth her hair with one shaking hand. “What did you follow?”

“The smell of sulfuric acid and oleanders.” Sylvester’s head snapped up. Jin stiffened. Only Quentin stayed where he was, looking puzzled. I made myself meet Sylvester’s eyes. “It was Oleander, Sylvester. She was here. I’m sure of it.”

“But you went after her alone? After everything she did to you? To us? How sure is sure, October?”

“Sure enough that I told Connor to call the guards.” I shook my head, letting the frustration creep into my voice as I said, “I don’t know why I didn’t wait. I should have waited. I just . . . I couldn’t.”

“My wife was outside.”

“I didn’t know. Sylvester—”

“How could you go alone?! ” He straightened, striding around the bed before I could react. Grabbing my shoulders, he jerked me toward him, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “How could you risk yourself—how could you risk my wife?”

“I thought I could catch her!” The smell of daffodils and dogwood flowers was rising around him as his magic surged, responding to his anger. My own magic tried to rise in self-defense. I forced it down. Sylvester had never hurt me.

He’d never grabbed me before, either.

Bringing his face to within an inch of mine, he hissed, “You were wrong.”

Etienne started to step toward us. Sylvester stopped him with a glare before swinging his attention back to me. Suddenly, all those stories from my absence—the ones about “the mad Duke of Shadowed Hills”—didn’t seem so farfetched. I could see the threat of madness in his eyes so clearly it burned.

“Will I lose her every time you’re wrong?” he asked. “Is that all your family is good for? Must you destroy everything you touch?”