“Sylvester?” I whispered.

Jin stepped up behind him, the top of her head not even clearing his shoulder. Wings vibrating more rapidly than ever, she placed a hand against his arm. “Rest, my liege,” she said, words carrying the weight of a command.

His eyes widened. The madness drained out of them, replaced first by confusion and then by a deep resignation. Then his knees buckled and he toppled forward, almost knocking me over. Etienne and Quentin moved to help hold him up.

Jin stepped back. “Tavis, Etienne, get the Duke onto the bed. Try to leave me room to work. Toby . . . ” She hesitated. “I heard that Lily’s sick. Is it true?”

I nodded.

“What do we know?”

“Not much. The Luidaeg says it could be her pearl. I checked with the Tea Gardens before I came here; Lily hasn’t been cogent enough to tell them anything.” I paused, and added, “The Luidaeg says she won’t help me.”

“I don’t know if she could,” said Jin wonderingly. “I’ve never even heard of a sick Undine. Illness in someone with Luna’s . . . constitution . . . is almost as strange.”

The pause before “constitution” was reassuring; it meant she knew Luna wasn’t Kitsune. I took a deep breath. “I should get back to the terrace. There may be something that can help me figure out what’s going on.” Basic investigative procedures are all but foreign in Faerie, where people are used to counting on magic to solve their problems. That makes me damn useful. It also makes them lousy at preserving evidence.

“Not alone,” said Garm, sounding horrified.

I raised an eyebrow. “Did you not know that was your outside voice?”

“He’s right.” Etienne shook his head. “You have to realize that I can’t let you go alone. Given the situation—”

“You mean the part where I’m the one who thinks she spotted Oleander, I was with Luna when she collapsed, and you only have my word that I asked Connor to call the guards?” I sighed. “I get it. Can we leave Tavis to stand watch? I don’t want the Duke and Duchess unguarded.”

“I’m not much use in a fight, but I can do you one better,” said Jin. “Garm?”

“Ma’am?” he responded.

“Can you please conceal the room when you leave?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Garm turned and stalked to the door, casting a final mistrustful glance my way before he exited.

“I guess that’s our cue,” I said.

Jin nodded. “I’ll call for you if anything changes.”

That would have to be enough. I offered Tavis a shallow bow, collected the cloth-wrapped cup, and turned to lead Etienne and Quentin out the door.

Garm was waiting outside, hands raised. Etienne pulled the door closed before stepping to the side, leaving Garm room to work. I moved to stand beside him, and Quentin moved to stand beside me. Finally, Garm gave a faint nod, and lowered his hands. The air went cold, filling with the scent of moss and still, stagnant water as his illusion began to come together.

The Gwragen are reclusive people who like their privacy even more than the Coblynau. It makes sense that they’re some of the best illusionists in Faerie; a Gwragen-spun illusion can supposedly fool even the Firstborn. I’m certainly not going to argue. The door in the wall grew faint as Garm’s spell took hold, finally vanishing into the stone. The smell of moss and water faded, and Garm turned to face us.

“There are no other entrances,” he said.

“Good,” said Etienne. “Let’s go.”

ELEVEN

WE WALKED IN AN UNEASY FORMATION, Etienne beside me, Quentin slightly behind, and Garm a few feet ahead, occasionally casting glances back at us. I did my best not to glare at him. It wasn’t easy.

Etienne cleared his throat to catch my attention before nodding toward the bundle under my arm. “You said you were being paranoid. About what, precisely?”

“Luna was drinking from this before she fell. If Oleander is involved, she probably poisoned Luna’s drink, and I don’t want to risk anyone coming in contact with the residue. Besides, this may protect the fingerprints.” The fabric would blur some of the prints, but hopefully not all of them; I just had to hope a few would be preserved to a reasonable degree. There’s no database of fae fingerprints, but some investigative techniques have become second nature after years of mortal-world cases.

“Mortal methods,” he said, amused respect tinged with unavoidable worry.

“They’ve worked pretty well for me so far,” I said, and shrugged. Mortal methods let me find the Queen’s knowe. That got me knighted. It also got her started on hating me. The jury’s still out on whether that was a fair exchange.

“I don’t understand why we can’t do this without her,” said Garm, not turning. “This all seems a little too convenient.”

“Garm,” said Etienne, sharply. “My apologies, October. I’ll have words with him later.”

I was starting to put two and two together. “How long ago did he graduate from being your squire?”

“Just after the turn of the year,” Etienne replied. Raising his voice a bit, he added, “Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of it.”

Garm hunched his shoulders and said nothing.

The fact that Etienne had graduated his squire might mean he was getting ready to take a new one. I glanced at Quentin. He was staring resolutely ahead as he walked, trying to look like he wasn’t listening to our conversation. He was almost succeeding.

Then we reached the place where Luna fell, and all thoughts of squires and knighthoods dropped away.

Grianne was sitting on the railing, with her Merry Dancers spinning around her. Her face was serene as ever, but her skin was glowing a pale green only slightly dimmer than her Merry Dancers, betraying her displeasure. Candela only light up under stress. Several more guards stood along the terrace, protecting the scene from intruders while hopelessly contaminating any evidence. Sometimes the fae ignorance of basic crime scene protocol makes me want to cry.

That wasn’t what made my stomach clench; that honor was reserved for the doors standing open, revealing an empty ballroom, and for Connor, who sat on a chair just outside them with blood covering the front of his tunic.

“What happened?” I asked, voice tight with the strain of keeping myself from running to Connor. I couldn’t lose it. Not now. Later, maybe, but not now.