“This is Sir Etienne of Shadowed Hills. Etienne, this is my seneschal, Marcia.”

If Etienne was surprised to hear that a quarter-blood changeling was my seneschal, he was well-bred enough not to show it. Instead, he offered her a shallow bow, and said, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Marcia, dipping a quick curtsy before turning her attention back on me. “So what’s going on? Did you stop the war?”

“Not quite. I’m still working on it.” I briefly considered telling her about Gillian, but dismissed the idea. Marcia had enough to worry about. I didn’t want to make things worse until I absolutely had to. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

“A pen?” She blinked before rummaging in the pocket of her apron and producing a plain ballpoint pen. There were tooth marks in the white plastic. It looked so ordinary I could have cried. “Will this work?”

“That will work just fine.” I took the pen, pulling one of Dianda’s bottles from my pocket. “I need to write a note. While I’m doing that, can you make sure the solarium is cleared out? I’m going to make a few phone calls, and then I need to invite some visitors over to talk to me.”

“Visitors?” said Etienne, frowning.

“The solarium?” said Marcia. Her frown was less concerned, and more thoughtful. “Sure. We’ve been using it for storage, but we can shift everything in there out to the hallway.”

“Do that. I’m going to need some privacy.” What I was considering was probably insane. At that moment, I didn’t care. Rayseline Torquill had my daughter, and there was one person in the world who was likely to know where she was.

The Selkie who she’d killed.

I opened the first bottle, shaking out the scrap of paper and pressing it flat against the doorframe. “Etienne, when you get back to Shadowed Hills, let Sylvester know about the disguise Raysel used in the Queen’s Court. I mean, it’s not likely she’ll try to sneak into the knowe, but you never know, right? Better safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” he said, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘visitors’? Who are you asking to come here?”

“Pretty much everyone.” I tapped the paper, and then went back to scribbling. My handwriting is nothing to brag about, but it’s legible. Usually. “This is an update for the Duchess of Saltmist, since I’d rather she didn’t get pissed off because she thinks I’m withholding information. Then I’m going to call May, and have her bring the car—”

“You’re going to let her drive?” said Marcia, sounding both horrified and amazed.

“I need the car. Can you think of a better way to get it here?” I handed Marcia her pen before rerolling the scrap of paper and tucking it back into the bottle. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m going to call May. And then I’m going to call the Luidaeg, and ask her for a quick and dirty version of the ritual I used to summon the night-haunts.”

“What?” demanded Etienne.

“What?” echoed Marcia.

“I really don’t have time to argue about this.” I corked the bottle, checking twice to be sure the seal was tight. Dianda said it would find her. I wanted it to find her with the contents intact. “I’m going to call the night-haunts.”

“Why?” asked Marcia.

“Rayseline killed a Selkie in her effort to steal the Lorden boys from their home. October believes that the murder victim will be able to provide her with answers,” said Etienne, a slow mixture of revulsion and admiration in his tone. “Sir Daye, I cannot recommend this course of action.”

“Wow, I suggest something this crazy and I go back to being ‘Sir Daye’? What do I have to do to get you to call me ‘Countess’?”

“Let’s not find out,” said Etienne flatly.

“The night is young.” I whistled. One of the knowe’s seemingly countless pixies appeared from inside a cabinet—I probably didn’t want to know what it was doing in there, or how many others were in there with it—and came to hover in front of me at eye-level. I held up the bottle. “Can you throw this into the ocean, please? Don’t open it. Just throw it in the water.”

Pixies are smarter than most people give them credit for. This one planted her hands on her diminutive hips, wings buzzing like mad, and said something incomprehensible in the tinkling language of the pixies.

Fortunately, I’ve had enough experience with the local colony to know what she was probably asking for. “A loaf of bread and a pitcher of cream,” I said, like I was agreeing to something.

The pixie darted forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand before flying out of the kitchen and down the hall. Five more pixies appeared from inside the cabinet and flew after her. The bread-makers didn’t even look up. After you’ve been in Goldengreen for a little while, this sort of thing becomes commonplace.

Marcia looked at me quizzically. “Why did you bribe the pixies? I could have thrown your bottle in the water for free.”

“Mostly because I’m about to summon the night-haunts into their knowe, and I figure that if I’m not going to ask for permission, I should try to make sure they’re in a good mood.”

“I wish that didn’t make sense,” said Marcia, and sighed. “Are you really going to summon the night-haunts?”

“Got a better plan?” Neither of them said anything. “Didn’t think so.”

“I have no desire to witness this,” said Etienne. “I’ll be returning to Shadowed Hills now, if you have no further need of me.”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Let Sylvester know what’s going on, and what I’m doing.”

Etienne nodded, and offered a small bow to Marcia. Then he turned, stepping out into the hall. The smell of limes and cedar smoke wafted in his wake, and I knew, even without checking, that he was gone.

Marcia glanced after him before asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Make bread for the pixies?” I smiled a little. “And tell anyone who comes asking for me that I’m busy until further notice.”

“Got it.” She smiled back, hesitantly. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Nope. But I need to know.”