The hall on the other side of the door obviously belonged to another building, with ivy-patterned carpet and gilded chandeliers loaded with mismatched candles. I kept a hand against the stained wallpaper as I walked, doing my best not to look up. The third time I stopped to rest I realized I was clean, and that I wasn’t wearing the clothes I was locked up in; they’d been replaced by a floor-length velvet robe that smelled like pennyroyal and fabric softener. My hair was loose and brushed smooth. I was hungry, but not excessively so; they’d been keeping me fed, somehow. Weak, yes; starving, no.

“I hope they didn’t lose my jacket,” I muttered, and started walking again.

It took me almost twenty minutes to reach the end of the hall—some showing for the big, bad knight. I was leaning against the wall, panting, when a door swung open and Raj stepped through, carrying a glass bottle full of something fizzy and fire truck red. He froze when he saw me, faintly feline ears flicking briefly back.

“Hi,” I said, waving weakly.

Raj tried to speak, and failed. Licking his lips, he tried again: “Toby?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, I’m kind of lo—” That’s as far as I got before he dropped the bottle, leaping for me. He might have gotten himself smacked aside if I’d been feeling better; as it was, he threw his arms around my neck before I could decide whether to dodge. The bottle hit the ground with a soft clunk, rolling to rest against the wall.

And I realized he was crying.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I patted him awkwardly on the back. “I’m here.”

The words made him cling more tightly. His tears were silent; instead of sobbing, he was purring. Cait Sidhe don’t purr much in public, and most of them don’t like to have it pointed out. I kept patting.

“I’m tired and in pain, but I’m going to be fine,” I said. “My head doesn’t even hurt much.”

“We were sure—I mean, Uncle Tybalt was sure—” His voice faltered as he pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. “You went to sleep, and you wouldn’t wake up, and you still look so strange. We thought you were gonna die.”

“Well, I didn’t. I’m real, and I’m me. Promise.”

“You really promise?”

“I really do. Life’s been weird, but I’m still me.”

He smiled brilliantly, giving me another hug. This time I returned it, tightening my arms around him before he pulled away. “I was scared,” he admitted.

“So was I,” I said, and pointed to the bottle. “You dropped that.”

“Oh!” He went red and hurried to retrieve it. “This is yours.”

I took the bottle when he offered it to me, and frowned. The liquid was even brighter when I looked at it closely. “What is it?”

“Walther made it. We’ve been giving it to you every three hours for the last two days. It’s supposed to make the iron in your blood stop hurting you and let your body wash it out faster.”

I paused. “Two days?”

He nodded. “That’s how long you’ve been asleep.”

“Wow.” I gave him a third hug, this time one-armed. He nestled against my side, resuming his purring as I uncapped the bottle and sniffed the contents. “It smells like mulberries.”

“Sometimes it smells like bananas or artichokes,” said Raj.

“Right,” I said, and chugged it. I was immediately glad I’d taken that approach—it tasted like pickles and peanut butter, but I’d swallowed most of it before I started gagging. Coughing, I handed the empty bottle back to Raj. “I slept through that?”

“For two days,” he confirmed.

“I must have really been out of it.” I shuddered, shoving my hair back with both hands. I didn’t even flinch when my thumb hit the still-unfamiliar edge of my ear. “Think your uncle might want to see me?”

“I think he’ll kill me if I don’t take you to him.”

“That would be bad. Lead the way.”

He walked back through the door he’d emerged from, slow enough for me keep up. I accepted the courtesy without comment, keeping a hand on his shoulder, as much for balance as to comfort him. We passed through half a dozen rooms, taking twice as many rest breaks, before we stepped through what looked like a plain brick wall and into an open alley.

The setup was familiar: mattresses at the end of the alley, crates blocking the entrance, tattered tapestries draped over the trash cans. The silence, on the other hand, was strange. There were no cats there, no lounging Cait Sidhe in either human or feline form. It felt like we were walking into a hospital waiting room.

A small knot of people was gathered near the alley’s mouth, some standing, some sitting, none quite looking at the others. They just continued the impression of walking into a hospital; the family of the terminal patient, waiting to hear whether it was time for grief or elation.

Quentin saw us first. He’d been leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and his chin canted down, a light morning wind teasing his darkening hair into knots. My robe rustled as we emerged, and Quentin turned toward us. “Hey, Raj,” he began. “How is—” His eyes widened, and he took off running, shouting, “Toby! Toby! ”

The others turned when Quentin started shouting. Connor was the first on his feet, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face. Tybalt was on his feet half a beat behind, wide-eyed and suddenly pale. He looked like a man who wasn’t sure whether to cry or start looking for the catch.

I was too focused on Quentin to comment on anyone else’s reaction. “Careful!” I said, holding out my hands to stop him. “You have to be gentle. I’m still sore.”

He skidded to a stop a few feet away, beaming. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” I said, smiling back. It felt good to be outside, even with the buildings blocking most of the light. For the first time in days, it felt good to be alive.

“Yes, you did.”

I didn’t have time to argue. Tybalt’s approach was as swift as Quentin’s, if more decorous and substantially quieter. I didn’t see him make his way down the alley; he was just suddenly there, stopping behind Quentin and looking at me like he wasn’t sure it was safe to come any closer.