“I don’t like this,” I murmured.

“Neither do I,” said Tybalt.

We kept walking. At this point, there didn’t seem like any other option. The people had to be in the knowe somewhere; two conflicting armies, however small, don’t just disappear . . .

My head was starting to throb again. I shook it, hoping I could will the pain away. It got worse, and I realized I could hear humming from the receiving room. “Oh, crap. Tybalt.” I grabbed his arm. He kept walking, dragging me with him for almost a foot before I let go. He didn’t seem to notice. He just kept going.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and turned, running back the way we’d come.

The guards blinked when I burst through the door. “Don’t mind me,” I said, grabbing the nearest fallen redwood branch. It was sticky with sap, clinging to my fingers like glue. Good. “Carry on,” I said, and went charging back inside. They might have stopped me if I’d given them time to realize what I was doing, and I couldn’t afford that.

Once I was back in the knowe, I scraped off as much sap as I could, rolling it between my fingers until I had a thick ball. I pulled it apart and jammed it into my ears, grimacing. The throbbing in my head stopped instantly. I closed my eyes. “Well, crud,” I whispered.

I’d guessed right when I heard the humming: the Queen was part Siren, and we’d backed her into a corner. We should have stopped to think about what that might mean. And now it was me and a knife versus her and all my allies.

“Isn’t this the best damn day.” I opened my eyes and started walking again, not quite running, but not wasting time as I made my way down the hall to the reception room. The scene that waited for me there wasn’t a surprise. I’d still been praying for something different.

The Queen was draped languidly over the throne that was rightfully Arden’s, wearing a long white gown that looked like it would get dirty if you so much as thought the word “mud.” Her lips were moving, probably in some vicious comment about my timing or my appearance. I couldn’t hear her. The redwood sap was doing its job. That was one threat down—but only one, and I was about to have a hell of a lot more to deal with.

The receiving hall was full of people who should have been my allies. Sylvester and his guards lined the walls. Danny loomed above the rest. He’d never seemed menacing before. He was managing it now—and so was Tybalt, who stood at the Queen’s right hand. Arden was at the Queen’s left. All of them were looking at me with the same blank-eyed stare and no signs of recognition.

“This is gonna suck,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “You didn’t have to go all supervillain and take over the whole room. You could have just ceded your throne and walked away.”

The Queen’s mouth moved. It was a relief not to know what she was saying.

“No, seriously. Let everyone go and get out. Leave the Mists now, and we won’t come after you. I give you my word.”

She threw back her head, and I didn’t have to hear her to know that she was laughing. Then she pointed at me, and May walked out of the crowd of Sylvester’s men, a long dagger in her hand. She moved to the exact center of the room and stopped, staring into the distance.

The Queen opened her mouth, not speaking this time—singing. In a flash, I knew what was about to happen, and I didn’t move.

I’m sorry, May, I thought.

May—who the Queen must have chosen because she was politically useless, but still important to me—raised the dagger and slit her own throat. Blood cascaded down her front like a waterfall, and her eyes widened, understanding coming back into them for a split second before she collapsed to the floor. I walked forward and knelt beside her, picking up the dagger and checking for a pulse at the same time. She didn’t have one.

“She’s dead,” I said, struggling to keep the horror and revulsion out of my voice. She would be fine—she had to be, she was a Fetch—but she was my friend, and her face was my own. I was going to be seeing that moment in my dreams for years. I raised my head and looked at the Queen, who was smirking at me. “You killed her. You violated Oberon’s Law, and for what? To make a point? You killed her. You know what I have to say to that?”

The Queen cocked her head to the side, saying something I didn’t hear. I smiled bitterly. She frowned. Apparently, that wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting.

“You started it,” I said, and charged.

The Queen stared at me for a few precious seconds, too stunned to sing her next command. Then she opened her mouth, and the people around her moved.

Good. That was what I’d been hoping for. The Queen could command my allies, but she couldn’t grant them any free will—not if she wanted to keep her hold on them. That meant they were limited to the tactics she could think up. Sylvester had a brilliant military mind. He’d won his Duchy fairly. And now he was marching toward me like a windup soldier, sword raised, ready to start hacking.

At the moment, he wasn’t my primary concern. That honor went to Danny, who could crush me if he managed to get hold of me. I’d heal, but it would hurt like hell, and it would slow me down until my bones managed to set. Keeping away from him was my first priority. Getting to Arden was my second. Grianne reached me first. She drew her sword and swung for me with none of her normal grace. I ducked under the swing, letting her momentum carry her into Sylvester’s path. The two collided. I kept running.

Danny was charging toward me, the floor shaking with every step he took. On the plus side, this was causing the Queen’s other puppets to scatter in order to avoid him, which kept them from forming a shield wall between me and her. At the same time, this meant there was nothing between me and the homicidal Bridge Troll.

I turned and ran. “I hate this I hate this I hate this,” I chanted under my breath. Madden lunged out of nowhere, his teeth bared in a snarl. I grabbed Melly’s discarded broom from the floor, sparing a half-second’s thought for where Melly herself might be, and slammed the point of the handle into his exposed belly. He yelped and fell back. I kicked him hard in the muzzle, and he went down. Guilt swept over me. I was going to be apologizing for this fight for a while.

But I was almost there. Arden was right—

Tybalt. Standing in front of me, his incisors showing and his hands curled into claws as. I skidded to a stop. I couldn’t hear a damn thing, but I was certain he was snarling, that low, almost subsonic sound that served as the last warning before a Cait Sidhe attacked.