I couldn’t even shake off my shock enough to sputter as she vanished in a hail of green glitter. Tybalt gave me an amused smile that I could swear was almost gentle as he reached past me and rapped on the throne room doors. They swung open.

“After you,” he said.

Gathering my dignity as best I could, I stepped inside.

All of Shadowed Hills is built on the “way too big, way too gaudy” blueprint, and the throne room is no different. The walls are draped with watered silk in the Duchy’s colors, and the floor is checkerboard-patterned marble that always makes me feel like a misplaced chess piece. Tybalt’s footsteps are naturally silent, but even my shoes made no sound against the stone.

The doors swung closed behind us, clicking shut with a snap like ice breaking.

Luna was sitting on her throne on the dais at the head of the room, watching Sylvester pace. He’d set his Ducal circlet aside in favor of running his hands through his hair until it stuck up along the sides of his head in russet spikes. They both looked toward the sound of the door closing. Luna half-stood, and Sylvester stopped where he was. Neither said a word as we crossed to them and stopped in front of the dais, bowing.

I was amused to see that Tybalt bowed deeper than I did. The Cait Sidhe aren’t part of the noble structure—they have their own hierarchy, sanctioned by Oberon himself—but they show respect when it suits them, and Tybalt respects the Torquills. There aren’t many nobles in Faerie who can say they’ve earned the respect of a King of Cats.

“Are you all right?” asked Luna, shattering the silence. “We didn’t think we’d hear from you so soon.”

“I’ve been digging around for information. Some of the things I’ve found have been . . .” I stopped, finally finishing lamely, “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Well, you just missed the Queen’s herald,” said Sylvester, in a tone that implied he would have been quite happy to have done the same. “Every landholder in the kingdom has been ordered to come to the aid of the crown—even if we’re too far inland to be directly affected, and would rather have played haven to those who aren’t equipped to fight, we still have to provide arms, and the warriors to wield them. I’m called to active duty. ‘Retirement’ is apparently a luxury I am no longer allowed.”

“Every available hand is emptying the armory into the grand ballroom, in preparation for the Queen’s men coming to collect,” added Luna.

That explained why Jin answered the door. I glanced automatically toward the western wall, asking, “Is Amandine . . . ?”

“She’s summoned with the rest of us,” said Sylvester. “That is, she will be, if they can find her. I’m not sure they’ve even managed to find her tower.”

I allowed a fleeting smile. “Mother always liked her privacy.” Privacy, insanity, they’re basically the same where Amandine’s concerned. It’s easier to understand how she gets away with it now that I know she’s Firstborn.

Sylvester stopped pacing and moved to settle in his throne. Luna leaned over, taking his hand in hers. “Have you seen her recently?”

“No.” I bit my lip, watching them. The fae don’t age, but we wear out when we push ourselves too hard. Thin lines were etched around Sylvester’s eyes, and Luna—always pale now that she’s lost her borrowed Kitsune skin—looked almost waxen. War is one of the few things that truly frightens the fae, because it represents an ending. Win or lose, there’s someone who doesn’t walk away. “Sylvester, I . . .”

Tybalt’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. I looked toward him, blinking.

“I believe this is better discussed without my presence,” he said. He offered a shallow bow to Sylvester and Luna as he stepped away. “I will wait for October in the hall, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” said Sylvester. He looked relieved. He’s known me long enough to know that my discomfort meant I was almost certainly about to say something he didn’t want to hear, and he’d feel better hearing it without someone who wasn’t family in the room. “If you need anything, Jin or Melly will be happy to provide it for you.”

Things were worse than I thought if Jin was being drafted into helping the household staff with more than just opening the doors. I shot Tybalt a grateful look, which he answered with a smile before turning and walking toward the doors. They swung open at his approach, swinging closed again behind him.

I turned back to the Torquills. “Sylvester . . .”

“I’m glad he’ll stand with you,” said Luna, pulling our attention to her. “I doubt Connor would. He didn’t stand with Rayseline.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair,” I said carefully. Luna hadn’t commented on my relationship with Connor before that moment��something I’d been deeply grateful for, since I wasn’t planning to break up with him, no matter what she said. “She made her choices. He’s made his.”

“Her choices were made for her.” Luna lifted one bone-white hand, looking at it thoughtfully. “Blood decides so much for us. All of us.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, not sure what to say, although I was pretty sure pointing out that Connor didn’t choose Raysel in the first place wouldn’t go over well. Luna was right; in Faerie, blood will tell. I was starting to wonder how much of her calm had actually belonged to Hoshibara, the Kitsune girl whose skin Luna used to escape her father’s lands.

“Rayseline was wed for diplomatic reasons,” said Sylvester sharply. “The choice to end the marriage was hers, and was made when she left her duties. Toby, please. What was so important that you had to come here to tell us?”

I took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before I breathed out, and said, “I called a Glastig I know from Home and asked him about the kidnappings. He didn’t really reach beyond his roots after leaving Devin. He generally knows what’s going on in the underworld.”

“And?” asked Sylvester.

Here it was: the moment of truth. “He said the only person who was asking the right kind of questions was a red-haired girl with yellow eyes and a laugh like . . .” I couldn’t finish that sentence. “He described Rayseline.”

Silence crashed down around us. Luna’s hand tightened on Sylvester’s. For his part, he simply closed his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Finally: