“Luna has a fever. She won’t wake up.” I was trying to be as clear and concise as possible. Maybe that way, I wouldn’t start crying. “We need to get her inside.”

“Sweet Maeve,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Not yet. Explanation time comes after getting-Luna-inside time. Please.” I couldn’t keep my voice from cracking on the final word.

That was enough to galvanize him into action. “Stay where you are,” he snapped, before wheeling to run back into the ballroom.

I stayed where I was.

I didn’t have to wait long; it seemed like only seconds before he returned with three people in tow. I knew two of them—Tavis, a Bridge Troll who entered Sylvester’s service about six months after I did, and Grianne, a thinfaced Candela who rarely spoke without prompting. The third was unfamiliar: a tall, thin man with grayish skin and moon-white eyes. I took note of them and dismissed them in the same breath, turning back to Etienne.

“We need to—”

“I know what we need,” he said, cutting me off. “Tavis, take her.”

“Yes, sir,” Tavis rumbled. All Bridge Trolls are big, but Tavis is a veritable mountain, nearly ten feet tall. His shoulders don’t fit through most human doorframes. He shambled toward me, offering a genial, worried nod as he lifted Luna from my lap. “Evenin’, Toby.”

“Hey, Tavis.” I caught his elbow as he straightened, letting him lift me to my feet. I stepped back and pulled my silver knife in the same motion.

Etienne raised an eyebrow. Grianne frowned. Tavis didn’t even blink. It was the one I didn’t know who stiffened and started forward, stopping when Etienne placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Peace, Garm. I’m sure Sir Daye wouldn’t have called for help if she merely wanted witnesses to assault.”

“Got that right.” I bent, starting to hack off my skirts just above the knee. A moment’s work left me with an armload of velvet and a “dress” that was more like a tunic with delusions of grandeur.

“Then what is she doing?” demanded Garm.

“Hopefully? Being paranoid.” I knelt to wrap my severed skirt around Luna’s goblet before standing again. “Where are we taking her?”

“Jin is meeting us at the Ducal chambers.” Etienne gave the bundle in my hands a sidelong look. “Will you accompany us? I’m certain the Duke will have questions.”

I nodded. “Does he know?”

“My Dancers are retrieving him,” said Grianne. Her voice was soft as wind rattling through tree branches, and just about as human.

Each Candela is accompanied by two or more balls of self-aware light called Merry Dancers. They can be sent on simple errands—like fetching a Duke—but if someone extinguishes a Candela’s Dancers, the Candela dies. Not exactly what I’d call a fair trade for never needing to call a page.

At least Grianne’s Dancers meant we didn’t need to wait around. We gave the area one last glance before starting down the terrace, Luna in Tavis’ arms, the possibly poisoned goblet in mine.

Etienne dropped back to walk next to me as we climbed a narrow stairway to the battlements, where we could cut across to the Ducal quarters. Garm stuck to him like a second shadow. I stayed quiet, waiting for one of them to start the conversation. My throat hurt, my head hurt, and I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Fortunately, Etienne’s never been in the mood for small talk. “I need your report, Sir Daye. What happened?”

“One of two things,” I said. “Either the Duchess has come down with a sudden cold, or she’s been poisoned. I’m voting the latter, in case you wondered. Why the hell didn’t you come sooner? I told Connor to call the guards.”

Etienne eyed me. “No one called for the guards. The first I heard of the situation was when I was summoned to the terrace.”

My throat went tight. “Etienne, has anyone seen Connor?”

“Not in some time.” He paused, eyes widening as he caught my meaning. “Grianne, has the Duke been summoned?”

Grianne cocked her head, like she was listening to something the rest of us couldn’t hear. Then she nodded. “Yes, sir. He plans to meet us at the Ducal chambers.”

“Good. I have a new task for you.”

“Sir?”

“Master O’Dell is missing. Find him.”

“Yes, sir,” said Grianne, and bowed before turning and flinging herself off the edge of the walkway. There was a flare of greenish-white light, and she was gone.

“Never get used to that,” muttered Tavis.

“Try hanging out with the Cait Sidhe,” I said. “They do something similar, but they skip the fireworks and just sort of show up.”

Tavis grimaced. “Charming.”

“Yeah.” I looked to Etienne. “I told Connor to call the guards because I thought we had an intruder. Now that Luna’s sick, I’m sure of it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Oleander. She’s back.”

Silence greeted my announcement, finally broken when Tavis asked, “Can someone get the door? My hands are full.”

“I have it,” said Garm, pushing forward in an obvious hurry to put some distance between us. He opened the door in the battlement wall, holding it open for Tavis and Luna to pass through. Etienne nodded for him to follow. Lips drawn into a disapproving line, Garm went.

I took a deep breath, turned to face Etienne, and waited.

“Support your claim, Daye.”

“I smelled her magic in the ballroom.”

“While no one else caught any trace of her?”

“You know that doesn’t matter. I’ve always had a good nose for spells.” Mother used to say having a nose for spells was connected to having a nose for blood.

“Fair.” Etienne continued to study me, eyes grave. “October . . . ”

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say until I’d seen Sylvester. “Let’s go catch up with the others,” I said briskly, and stepped through the tower door. Reality did another dip-and-weave as I crossed the threshold, this time disorienting enough that I had to catch myself against the wall and duck my head, waiting to see if I was going to vomit. My stomach seemed determined to join my head in its rebellion against the tyranny of not being in pain. Gritting my teeth, I forced the nausea down one sickening inch at a time.