“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“I believe it’s likely to get longer.”

“Raysel’s working with Oleander?” Etienne said, not moving past that point.

“It’s a big whirligig of fun,” I muttered, taking the scabbard Sylvester was offering and belting it around my waist.

“Yes,” said Connor. Etienne gaped at him, while Sylvester wordlessly handed me the sword. If there was going to be any explaining, it looked like I was going to do it.

Lucky me. “Oleander convinced Raysel and Manuel to help her poison the Duchess.” I slid the sword into the scabbard. “They salted the earth around the roses.”

“I knew that,” he said impatiently. “That’s why we’ve had that man from the Tea Gardens here all week.”

“His name is Walther,” I said. “Has her condition improved?”

“Yes,” Sylvester said. “But she’s reverted to her original form, and it seems . . . unlikely . . . that she’ll be able to change back, given the nature of her original transformation. A thing, once broken, is difficult to restore.”

“Damn.” Shaking my head, I said, “I think Oleander targeted Lily partially to frame me, and partially because she and Simon failed to kill me in the Tea Gardens.”

“If October and Connor hadn’t arrived when they did, I doubt we’d be having this conversation,” added Sylvester. At Etienne’s look, he explained, “I was about to be poisoned when Toby broke in. Her timing saved my life.”

“Didn’t do much for Manuel,” I said, looking away.

“Manuel?” said Etienne. “What about him?”

Sylvester answered before I could: “He was working with Oleander and Rayseline. They said they could get him revenge for his sister’s death. Unfortunately, he was a very angry young man, and he believed them.”

“He wasn’t working for them at the end,” I said.

Etienne paled. “Does that mean . . . ?”

“Manuel Lorimer died a Knight of the Shadowed Hills,” said Sylvester, tone leaving no room for argument. “My daughter may not have held the knife, but she’s as responsible for this as Oleander was. They’ll both pay for what’s been done.”

“We’re wasting time,” I said. “Etienne, we’re afraid Rayseline will try to convince the guards that I’m trying to kill the Duke.”

“She already has,” he said grimly. “Grianne has her Merry Dancers scouring the gardens, and Garm has gone to the mortal side of the park to check the entrances.”

It’s a sign of my respect for Sylvester that I didn’t deck Etienne again. “What?”

“She was persuasive, October. I tried to argue, but you’d already run from the Queen’s justice, and it seemed you’d slipped Ormond’s hospitality . . .” He had the good grace to look embarrassed. That was the only thing that prevented me from kicking him in the shins. “They sent me to the armory because we needed weapons to hunt you with.”

“Oh, for Maeve’s sake.” I put a hand over my face. “Sylvester—”

“Don’t get huffy at me,” said the Duke, taking several knives off the wall and tucking them into his doublet. “I warned you she was going to do that.”

“Yes, but . . . ” I stopped, sighing. “How bad is it?”

“There are two search parties combing the knowe for you, in addition to Garm’s group.” Etienne recovered his composure enough to take a knife off the wall for himself. “I’m supposed to lead the third.”

“Goody,” I said.

“This is still manageable,” said Sylvester. “Etienne, do you know the way to the Garden of Glass Roses?”

“Yes, if it hasn’t been moved recently.”

“It hasn’t.”

I nodded, getting the gist of where he was going. “Meet folks there and explain?”

“Exactly.” Sylvester slid another knife into his sleeve. I’d be surprised if he didn’t clatter when he walked. “We’ll simply explain, and they’ll side with me.”

Etienne and I exchanged a glance. “How can you be sure?” he asked.

“This is my Duchy, Etienne. I hold the fealty of everyone here, and unlike my daughter, I’m not presently insane.” Sylvester’s expression hardened. “I love Rayseline, but she hurt Luna on purpose, and that’s the one thing I can never forgive. Anything else, she might have been able to get away with—I’m sorry, Toby, but she might even have escaped the punishment for killing you—”

“Forgiven,” I said. Connor didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. The fury in his expression was enough.

“I thought it might be,” Sylvester said, and smiled a sad, short-lived smile. “She could have gotten away with anything but what she did. This isn’t forgivable. One way or another, she’s going to pay.”

“You heard the man.” I looked to Etienne. “Get the others and meet us in the garden as soon as you can.”

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“We’re going to fix this.”

“But what are we going to do?”

I sighed. “Whatever it takes.” I just had to hope we’d all survive the experience.

THIRTY-FOUR

EXPLAINING THE SITUATION TO SYLVESTER’S knights took almost fifteen minutes. It would probably have taken longer if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to slap an illusion over myself before we went to the Garden of Glass Roses. Not a human disguise: a disguise to make me look the way I did before Amandine twisted the balance of my blood.

It took eight tries and active coaching from Connor for me to spin a convincing version of my own face. It wasn’t something I’d ever needed to do before, and even as I shaped the spell, my instincts were insisting that looking like myself meant dropping the disguises, not constructing new ones. Unfortunately, we needed people to listen, not ask questions I didn’t want to answer, and that meant keeping the focus on the situation.

Even with my masks up and Connor struggling to mediate, it seemed everyone had a question or a comment to make before they were willing to pay attention. Herding the fae really is a lot like herding cats, only pointier and less rewarding. Normally, Sylvester would have cut the discussion short and ordered them all to start looking for Oleander . . . but this wasn’t a normal situation, and sending them off before they really understood what we were up against would be a good way to get a lot of people killed.