“But—”

“There will be time to weep and wail and play the Banshee soon enough. For now, carry her. Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Come.” She held out her arm, obviously expecting him to take it. Connor glanced at me as he released my hand and slid his arm through hers, letting her lead him up the bridge and out of sight. Spike bounded after them, leaving me alone with May. Peachy.

May looked at me, frowning. “She wants me to carry you.”

“I noticed.”

“Of all the ludicrous—”

I sighed, holding up my arms. “Come on, May. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can carry me off to my eternal reward.”

“I’m still not sure I’m allowed to help you.”

“Look, I won’t tell if you won’t. Do you want to piss off Lily?”

She blanched. When she got my memories, she got the full set. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. So come on and pick me up.”

May sighed and knelt. “Oh, fine.” Even shifting so she could lift me piggyback-style hurt my knee, and I hated to think what climbing the bridge on my own would’ve been like. Lily was right—I needed to be carried—but still, being carried by your own Fetch is just embarrassing.

May leaned forward to counterbalance my weight as she mounted the bridge. It worked well enough that we didn’t fall backward, but it was slow going. She stopped, grabbing the railing as she panted for breath.

“What have you been eating?” she asked. “Bricks?”

I “accidentally” dug my heels into her sides. “I thought you were indestructible.”

“No, I’m unkillable,” she said, panting. “I still get tired, and you’re heavy.”

“Stuff it.”

“Such gratitude.” She started climbing again. There was a soft popping sound as we reached the top of the bridge, and we were standing at a crossroads with four small cobblestone paths stretching out across a checkerboard expanse of marsh. Only the paths provided a clear route to solid ground. We were in Lily’s knowe.

“Cute,” May grumbled, starting down the nearest path. We were halfway to land when she slipped.

Riding piggyback doesn’t give you much in the way of the ability to catch yourself, and with her arms around my legs, May couldn’t catch us. We barely had time to shriek—in perfect unison—before we hit the water. It was lukewarm, like fresh blood.

The thought was enough to make me shove away from May and start thrashing, and the fact that I was in the water at all was enough to make me keep thrashing. I spent fourteen years living with Lily. Neither of us planned it that way; a man named Simon Torquill decided I’d make a lovely koi and had the magic to test the theory. He transformed me and left me in one of the ponds that riddle the Tea Gardens. I haven’t been real big on water since that happened. I don’t even take baths anymore, just showers. Put me in water and I tend to panic a little.

Okay, more than a little. I kept thrashing, struggling to find the surface. Most koi ponds are shallow, but Lily’s ponds aren’t exactly what you’d call standard. I don’t remember what they were like when I lived there, but I’ve never found the bottom while I was in my original shape, and I’m not going looking. I tried to scream, and water filled my mouth, choking me.

Great, I thought wildly, this is how I die. My Fetch drowns me by mistake.

Hands grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me out of the water, dropping me on something solid before hitting me on the back. I started coughing. Air. There was air in the world. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at Connor.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. May dropped you.” He glared back over his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to!” May was a few feet away, wringing water out of her hair.

“It’s okay, Connor. I’m okay,” I said, sitting up and looking around. “She didn’t mean to drop me. Where’s Lily?”

“The pavilion,” said Connor, almost smiling.

“Which would be where?”

“Try looking behind you,” said May.

I looked over my shoulder. The pavilion was there, just like last time. Lily was seated at the table, mixing herbs in a small mortar. Spike was off to one side, watching and occasionally reaching out to bat at the pestle. She didn’t seem bothered by the rose goblin’s antics; she ignored it, placidly continuing to work. And Karen was lying on the cushions behind the table, just where I’d left her.

It took a moment for that to process. When it did, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the pavilion, only to fall again as my knees buckled beneath me. “Maeve’s teeth!” I snarled. “Lily!”

“Oh, crying for me now, are you?” She looked up, expression unreadable. “What would you ask from me?”

“Lily, you—I—I need to get to Karen! I need to see that she’s okay.”

“Do you?” She rose, walking down the pavilion steps with a fluidity even Tybalt could only envy. “It seems to me that what you need is to hold still for a time.”

“Lily . . .” May and Connor were both standing, but they weren’t moving. Turning toward Lily, I said, pleadingly, “Lily, please.”

“If I truly loved you, I would refuse,” she said, smiling sadly as she came to kneel on the moss in front of me, the mortar still in her hand. “I’d say ‘no, you’ve had enough gifts of me,’ and I’d let you heal at your own pace, just this once. Perhaps then your charming twin would leave us in peace, and while you might hate me for a while, you would be here to do it.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” said May. She sounded sorry.

“I know that as well as you do. I’ve known more of your breed than you’d believe,” chided Lily, pulling a chunk of moss off the ground and pressing it into her mortar. “Once you arrive, events must play to their logical conclusions. I hope you don’t mind my hating you.”

“It’s okay,” said May, coming to sit beside us. “It comes with the territory.”

“Yes. It does. October?”

“Yes?”

“Connor is behind you. What is he doing?”