An expression of dawning anger was spreading across her face. “It would be entirely inappropriate for me to share that information outside my Court,” she snapped. “Nor will any of my Court disclose it.”

Damn. Well, it was worth a shot. I looked back to April. “Can you check for people who look out of place and come back here if you see anything that looks suspicious?” It wasn’t a good compromise. It was the one I had.

“Certainly.” She vanished in a spray of sparks.

A hand gripped my shoulder. I turned to find myself facing the Queen. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, moon-mad eyes narrowing with fury.

“I’m asking the Countess of Tamed Lightning to do a perimeter check, since otherwise we have no idea who’s here and who isn’t.” I stepped out from under her hand. The Luidaeg’s shell was so cold it hurt, but I didn’t dare pull it out until I was away from the Queen. “Unless you ordered an attack on Patrick Lorden, I can’t understand why you’re letting people leave. It doesn’t make sense.”

“This isn’t a mere crime,” said the Queen. Each word was precisely shaped, and pronounced as though it were being hurled at a disobedient child. “It was an act of war. Finding a single archer won’t change that.”

I stared. “Are you telling me some asshole can attempt an assassination and commit an entire Kingdom to suicide? That’s stupid.”

“Welcome to politics,” said Luna.

“If you want to stop the war, find the Lorden children,” said Sylvester. “Lives will be saved, possibly including theirs. People who steal children aren’t always careful with them.”

I winced. The subject of stolen children is very personal for Sylvester. His daughter, Rayseline, grew up in a magical prison. It drove her insane. His wife is the child of possibly the greatest kidnapper and destroyer of children Faerie has ever known. Calling them a family with issues is putting it mildly.

The Queen glared for a long moment before reluctantly saying, “Finding the children might stop the war, especially as someone is claiming my Court was responsible for their loss.”

“Was it?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “What did you just say to me?”

“Was your Court in any way responsible for the disappearance of the Lorden children?” I shook my head. “I can’t do anything about it if you did, Your Highness, but if you stole them and you’re about to send me looking for them, it’d be nice to know before I follow the trail right back to you.”

“What in the world makes you think I would send you?” The Queen’s anger was fading into disdain. “Your failures outweigh your successes by too large a margin.”

Sylvester started to step forward. I gestured for him to stop. The Queen was still speaking in a reasonable tone, rather than using her Banshee gifts against me, and I was trying to take that as a good sign.

“Highness, despite my failures, I’m one of the few people in this Kingdom who actually knows anything about handling a kidnapping case,” I said. “Unless you want this war, you need me.”

The Queen looked from me to Sylvester and Luna, and then to Connor, who still stood silently beside me. Her expression calmed. “Never speak to me like this again,” she said, turning back to me. “If you do, no number of powerful ‘friends’ will save you. I will have you stripped of lands and titles and cast you as far from my shores as I can. I will send you into exile, and I will be glad. Do you understand?”

I swallowed. “Yes, Highness.”

“Very well.” She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re welcome to try. It’s not as if even you could make things any worse.”

“How long do I have?”

“Three days,” said Sylvester. We all turned to look at him. He shrugged. “That’s the traditional length of time between the declaration of war and the start of hostilities. The Lordens have to send official notice to all the local fiefdoms, and that slows things down.”

Pureblood honor sometimes works for us as much as it works against us—rarely, but rarely is better than never. The delay in hostilities would give the local fiefdoms time to send their children and fosters to safety before things got violent. Oberon’s Law allows adults to kill one another on the field of war, but there’s nothing that justifies killing a child.

I looked back to the Queen. “I’m going to need the authority to question your Court, Highness.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning me again?”

“No, I’m asking to question the people under you. No matter how stainless your honor is, the people who work for you may be less admirable.”

The Queen hesitated before nodding, once. “Provided you ask no more than is necessary, you may speak to them, starting at dusk.”

“Dusk tomorrow? But that’s hours from—”

“I told you not to question me, Daye.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice. “My people need time to calm themselves and send notice that war is coming—and it is coming, unless you’ve somehow gained the power to perform miracles on demand. I’ll let you play your little detective game, but mark me: this will be settled on the battlefield.” She looked around our group. “How far Faerie has fallen that you, all of you, would stand here while this mongrel bitch challenged my authority. I rejoice that Oberon isn’t here to see this.”

“My grandfather would approve of Countess Daye’s actions,” said Luna softly.

The Queen stopped. None of us are quite used to thinking of Luna as the daughter of two Firstborn—and more, as someone who knew Oberon personally, as a loving grandparent, in the days before his disappearance. That gives her a certain scary credibility.

“Be that as it may,” said the Queen, finally, “he’s not here, and war stands before us.”

“That’s nice,” I said flatly. “Dusk?”

“Dusk.”

“May we be excused?” No one else asked before fleeing, but in this case, civility seemed like the better part of valor.

“Go.” The Queen pointed to the door.

I didn’t want to say anything that might set her off again, so I simply bowed before taking Connor’s hand and starting for the exit. Sylvester and Luna followed. They weren’t letting me turn my back on the Queen of the Mists alone, and I found that reassuring.