“We found them,” I agreed wearily. “Now all we have to do is get them down to the water. I think their parents would like them back.”

“They’re not the only ones.” She looked meaningfully toward Gillian. I finally allowed myself to look in that direction. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady, even rhythm. I couldn’t stop my sigh of relief. The Luidaeg shook her head. “Yeah, Toby, she’s alive. I fuzzed her memory enough that she won’t remember this outside of her dreams.”

“You mean outside her nightmares,” I said quietly.

The Luidaeg shrugged. “I did what I could.”

I didn’t want to ask the question. I had to ask the question. “And Connor? How long before he wakes up?”

“He won’t.”

My head snapped up again. I stared at her. “What?”

The Luidaeg shook her head, looking defeated. “I did what I could. We should have taken the arrow out faster. I’m sorry.”

It felt like the bottom dropped out of the world. “What . . . what do you mean? It was elf-shot, Luidaeg. Purebloods don’t die of elf-shot.”

“No, they don’t. But they do die of arrows to the chest.” She met my eyes, expression sad. “I didn’t realize how badly he was bleeding until it was too late. None of us did. There was so much blood already . . . I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Oh.” That tiny sound seemed to be all I was capable of. I wiped my eyes again, and asked, “Will the night-haunts come soon?”

The Luidaeg nodded.

“Then we . . . we should go. We should get Gillian out of here before she wakes up.” That was something I could focus on: getting my little girl back to humanity before she saw something that would remind her of Faerie all over again.

“I know what to do,” said Quentin.

We all turned to look at him, even the Lordens, who probably had no real clue what was going on. Quentin’s ears reddened, but he pressed on.

“Have Tybalt take her to somewhere in the city, like Ocean Beach or maybe the Park. If he puts her down, calls the police, and keeps an eye on her until they arrive, they’ll take her back to her dad. That’s what the police are for, right?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I guess it is. Good idea, Quentin.”

He smiled halfheartedly, clearly pleased by the praise, and just as clearly aware of how much this whole situation was destroying me. I moved to kneel next to Gilly and bent to kiss her forehead.

“You’re going to go with a friend of mine now, baby,” I whispered. “He’s going to take good care of you, and make sure you get home. I love you. You can forget everything about tonight, but never forget that. I love you.”

Tybalt put his hand on my shoulder. “October?”

“Yeah.” I stood, wiping my eyes before I turned to face the others. The Luidaeg was holding Peter, who was still holding tight to Dean’s hand. “She’s ready. Don’t let anyone see you.”

“I’ll be back.” Tybalt bent to scoop my daughter off the floor, cradling her gently to his chest. Then he stepped forward into the shadows, and he was gone.

I took a shaky breath, swallowing my tears, before forcing a smile and pulling the second of Dianda’s messenger bottles out of my pocket. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you back to your parents.”

THIRTY-THREE

WE EMERGED FROM THE SHALLOWING in a cloud of pixies that whirled around us like an honor guard of Christmas lights, their wings illuminating the night. The Luidaeg led the way, carrying Peter in her arms like the fishtailed boy weighed nothing at all. He nestled against her chest, flukes swaying, utterly at peace with the world. Even Dean looked calmer. The words “I’m the Luidaeg” clearly had some talismanic power in the Undersea that they lacked on the land.

The sky was dark and clear, lit by what seemed like uncountable pinprick stars. I stopped to look up at it, blinking hard as I tried to make myself stop crying. It wasn’t working. The tears hadn’t stopped since Tybalt took Gillian away. I wasn’t sure they ever would.

“October?”

The sound of Sylvester’s voice should have been surprising. I was too tired to be surprised anymore. I turned to see him coming up the path from the woods, with a dozen of his guards close behind. I didn’t hesitate. I just started sobbing and ran the few yards between us, flinging myself into the safety of his arms.

Sylvester gathered me close, making a soft shushing sound as he looked past me to the others. I couldn’t see them, but I could imagine their expressions, Quentin looking a little lost, the Luidaeg shaking her head in quiet negation.

“Ah,” Sylvester said. “I see. Etienne? Tavis?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Etienne. He walked past us, followed by the hulking shape of Sir Tavis, the only Bridge Troll in Sylvester’s service. Raj came close behind them, stopping at the outside edge of my range of vision.

“We came as fast as we could,” he said. “I had to get there, and then . . .”

“It’s all right, Raj.” I pulled away from Sylvester, taking a shaky breath, and wiped my eyes. I wanted to fall apart. I was going to fall apart. I just couldn’t do it yet. “You did good. You couldn’t have gotten here any faster.”

Whatever Raj was going to say died on his lips as he looked past me to the door into the shallowing. His eyes widened, pupils expanding. “What happened?”

“War,” I said, and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself not to cry. “This is why it’s bad, Raj. Remember this, for when you’re King someday. People get hurt.”

“I’ll remember,” whispered Raj.

“So will I,” said Quentin.

“Good.” I opened my eyes and turned to see Tavis standing next to the Luidaeg, Rayseline’s body hanging limply in his arms. Peter Lorden was staring at him with undisguised awe. I guess they don’t get many Bridge Trolls in the Undersea.

“Take her to the car, Tavis,” said Sylvester. His voice was tightly controlled. If I hadn’t known him so well, I might not have realized how hard he was fighting not to cry. “Guard her. We’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Tavis, and turned to start making his way down the hill. Two more of Sylvester’s knights followed him—just in case, I suppose.