“I believe the blade in your hand is distracting her such that she is unable to speak in her own defense,” said Etienne, still sounding utterly calm. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to hug him for keeping things under control, or slap him for not pulling her off me. “If you would release her, I’m sure she would have a great deal of interest to share.”

There was a long pause. Finally, with a snort of derision, the Queen snapped, “Very well. But if she so much as twitches toward a weapon, both your lives are forfeit, for cause of treason.”

I found myself strangely relieved that she hadn’t said “for reason of treason.” I’m pretty sure the Queen would have slit my throat if I’d started giggling. “Cool by me,” I said, trying to move my vocal cords as little as possible.

“Then we are in agreement,” said Etienne. “Your Highness?”

The Queen pushed me away, making a sound that would have been rude coming from anyone who wasn’t royalty. I took advantage of the shove, using it to justify taking two long steps away from her before I turned, dropping immediately into a full formal curtsy. It was the only appropriate thing to do.

“Rise,” snarled the Queen. “I would like the explanation I have been promised.”

I straightened, keeping my expression neutral. It wasn’t easy. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The threat of coming war had sea-changed the Queen of the Mists once again. Her white-foam hair was plaited back, making the alien lines of her face seem sharper and more angular. There was a new madness in her eyes, layered thick over the old, making it almost impossible to look into them for long. I forced myself to keep looking at her. Whatever she was looking for, she wouldn’t find it if I let her stare me down.

She stared into my eyes for a count of ten, a wordless curse on her snarling face. Bit by bit, the new madness broke, fading back into the old, familiar kind of crazy. It said something about my day that I viewed this as an improvement. “Well?” she demanded.

The power had gone out of her voice. She was still an angry monarch, but she was no longer an angry monarch on the verge of making my brain run out of my ears. “Whoever told you they saw me enter the Undersea was correct. I was invited by the Duchess of Saltmist, so that I could search the quarters of her missing sons for any signs of who might have taken them.” I didn’t mention that she’d invited me because I asked her to. Somehow, I didn’t see that helping my case.

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you survive this ‘visit’?”

“I can show you. May I get something from my pocket?”

“If you reach for a weapon, my guards will cut you down before you draw.”

“Kinda figured.” I slipped my right hand into my pocket as slowly as I could, producing the shell the Luidaeg gave me. It was warm to the touch, but I couldn’t tell how much of that was from my own body heat. “Have you seen one of these before?”

The Queen gasped. The sound grated against my bones. “Where did you . . .”

“You know the Luidaeg and I have a long-standing association. She wanted me to monitor the situation between the land and sea.” The shell was nothing but a communication device, but she didn’t need to know that. I sure as hell wasn’t going to show her any of the other things I was carrying.

“And she’s siding with the land?” Was that hope I heard in her voice? Hope, or something like it. I almost hated to dash it against the cold rocks of reality.

“She’s not siding with anyone. She can’t. But she can ask me to do it.” I glanced toward Etienne, offering what I hoped was a reassuring nod. The poor guy didn’t spend enough time around me to be used to this sort of thing. “She wants this resolved as much as the rest of us do.”

“So she sent you to the seas.” The Queen’s moon-mad eyes narrowed. “What did you learn?”

“That you weren’t responsible for what happened to the Lordens, but someone from the land was.” I took a breath, and launched into my explanation once again. I was starting to feel like I needed flash cards, just to make things go faster. The Queen listened without interruption, her face giving away nothing of what she was feeling.

I told her almost everything. Almost, because I wasn’t willing to tell her my daughter was among the missing. It wasn’t because I was afraid she’d take me off the case—that sort of thing only happens in the mortal world; in Faerie, danger to family is supposed to make you better at your job, not worse—but because if she waved Gillian off as an acceptable loss, I’d have to kill her.

Finally, I finished, and fell into an uneasy silence, waiting for her to respond. After a long pause, she said, “I see. You come here only to add worse news to what I already have. Your courtesy grows with every passing day.”

“I’m here to ask you, to beg you, to please call off this pointless war. At least one person has already died.” I offered my hands, palms up, in a beseeching gesture. “The Lordens know you don’t have their children. Help me find them. Give me the resources I need. Apologies and restitutions can be made, and we can end this.”

Her frown was almost puzzled this time. “Call it off? But you said it yourself. People have died. There’s no calling it off once blood is shed.”

“But—”

“Oberon’s Law is very clear. You, more than anyone, should know that. Only in a time of war is killing justified, and I’d not make criminals of my subjects. The war goes forward. There will be a reckoning.”

“For what? The damages done? Won’t that just do more damage?”

“Then we’ll have a reckoning for that, until the better side stands triumphant, and the last reckoning pays for all.” She looked serious, like what she was saying made perfect sense. Her knife had vanished in the frills of her skirt, leaving her the very image of the innocent, slightly puzzled Queen of Faerie—Titania in disarray. I only had to see her eyes to know that I couldn’t change her mind. As long as there was an excuse to fight, they’d fight. I had to take their excuses away, and that meant proving this war had been provoked.

“What if the Undersea forgives it?” I asked, desperately.

Her innocence cracked, revealing the anger in her eyes. “Would you have me forgive their insult?”

“If they can forgive a death, yeah, I sort of would. It seems like the reasonable thing to do, you know?” Etienne shot me an alarmed look. I did my best to ignore it. Maybe baiting the Queen isn’t smart, but neither is going to war to prove that you can.