I stood slowly, keeping my hand on the carved oak bedpost to help my balance. My legs were wobbly, and my head felt like I was coming off a three-day bender.

“When I find that cat, I am going to kill him dead,” I muttered, and stalked to the door, yanking it open.

Jin was sitting in a wicker chair just outside, flipping through a large leather-bound book. She looked up when the door opened, and smiled. “You’re up,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“Naked,” I snapped, before I could think better of it. “Where’s Tybalt? How did I get here?”

“Are you having any muscle pain? Any difficulty breathing?”

“Now I’m feeling annoyed. Where’s Tybalt?”

Jin’s smile faded into a look of aggravated amusement. “It’s always good to see that severe injury doesn’t do anything to improve your manners. Tybalt’s in the Garden of Glass Roses. He’s been there since I kicked him out of your room, which I only did because I was afraid he was going to wake you.”

“Why didn’t you let him?” I demanded. “What did he do?” The last thing I remembered was blacking out alone in the shadows—and if that wasn’t the sort of thing that nightmares are made of, I didn’t want to know what was.

“He pushed you through to the Shadow Roads to save your life.” Jin shook her head. “He told me what was happening at the time. Do you have any idea how close you came to being elf-shot?”

“I survived it once,” I said defensively.

“Yes, because your mother rebalanced your blood and weakened the enchantment,” Jin shot back. “That sort of thing is a little bigger than elf-shot. If you’d been hit on the street, you would have died.”

“He left me in the dark,” I said, more quietly than I’d intended to.

Jin sighed. “Toby . . . he didn’t mean to. As to why I didn’t let him wake you, you needed the sleep more than he needed the reassurance. Healing as fast as you do doesn’t mean you need to find new and exciting ways to get hurt. Healing is hard on the body, and doing it all at once doesn’t make it any easier.”

That statement gave me something new to worry about. “How long was I out?”

“About five hours. It’s late afternoon.” Jin looked into my face, studying my pupils. “You were suffering from hypothermia, and had a minor concussion, as well as an impressive number of scratches and bruises. I sang away the worst of it; you healed the rest on your own. You’ll live, especially now that you’ve had some sleep.”

“Good. Where are my clothes?”

“Wouldn’t you like a sandwich? Maybe some coffee?”

“That depends. Do you want me to go storming through the knowe in my nightgown while you’re making snacks?”

Jin glared, shaking her head. “There’s nothing I can say that’s going to make you go back to bed and take it easy, is there?”

“Jin, even under normal circumstances, getting me to ‘go back to bed and take it easy’ is borderline impossible. Right now, I need to go and yell at Tybalt until my throat bleeds, I’m working under contract for the Luidaeg, and we’re technically at war with the Undersea. If there’s ever been a time when I was inclined to ‘take it easy,’ this isn’t it.”

“I could make you go back to bed,” she said.

I paused. She probably could. I’ve seen Jin knock Sylvester out when he was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, and he’s a pureblood. I could argue . . . or I could tell her the truth about why Tybalt and I were outside, alone, when the Goblins came.

“Rayseline has Gilly,” I said quietly. Jin stared at me. I kept talking. “She broke into my daughter’s bedroom, and she took her. Gilly’s mortal parents are hysterical; I’m not much better. I think she’s probably with the sons of the Duchess of Saltmist, which means that if I want to find my daughter, I have to find them. If anyone’s going to stop this war, it’s going to be me.” I balled my hands into fists, wishing desperately for something I could hit. “Now, please, Jin. Where are my clothes?”

She sighed, wings vibrating and sending a gust of glittering dust into the air. “They’re in the middle drawer of the dresser, along with your knife and the jacket you were wearing. You’re carrying some pretty potent magical items, you know.”

“A girl likes to be prepared.” I was already moving toward the dresser. If Jin didn’t want to see me naked, she could leave.

Jin sighed again, sounding defeated. “Just be sure to see His Grace before you leave. He’s worried about you.” With this dire statement hanging between us, she closed the door, leaving me alone.

Jin wasn’t exactly telling the truth when she said “my” clothes were in the dresser. My jacket was there, along with my knife belt, but everything else was new, courtesy of the wardrobes at Shadowed Hills. At least whoever picked them out wasn’t trying to dress me like a girl this time, or an escapee from the Renaissance Faire—it was just a fresh pair of jeans and a dark green sweater too soft to be anything but cashmere.

“I am not paying to have this dry-cleaned,” I muttered, yanking it on. Ignoring the door, I shrugged into my leather jacket and pressed my hand against a small, decoratively-carved panel set into the wall.

A door opened under my hand, and I stepped through.

Like any large knowe, Shadowed Hills is riddled with back routes and servants’ halls, all tucked out of sight of the casual visitor. They provide the most direct routes through the knowe. Quentin uses the back routes through the knowe as much as he uses the main halls, and I’ve learned a lot about navigating quickly since I started paying attention to where he goes. Getting from the guest rooms to the Garden of Glass Roses would normally be a ten- or fifteen-minute walk. By cutting behind the bulk of the walls and major thoroughfares, I got there in less than five.

The Garden of Glass Roses has always been one of my favorite parts of Shadowed Hills. Luna is a supernaturally skilled gardener, and nothing displays her skills as well as her living glass rosebushes. Not everything in the garden is glass—just the rosebushes and the butterflies—but the light that filters through them throws stained-glass shadows over everything, making the whole place seem like a cathedral. Few people go there; it’s a place for introspection more than casual strolls. Normal roses have thorns, but they don’t cut deep enough to leave you needing stitches. Glass roses are another story.