“October?” he whispered.

My smile didn’t waver as I turned it on him. “Hey.”

“I . . . hello.” He sounded hopeful and scared at once, like admitting hope would cause me to collapse into dust. Quentin stepped aside, leaving Tybalt and I facing one another. “I assume this means you’re feeling better?”

“A little bit.” My smile softened, until I was certain I had to look like a total idiot. Somehow, I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I stepped forward, narrowing the gap Quentin left behind. “Sorry I didn’t listen to you before. I think I was too out of it. I probably would have hurt myself if I’d tried.”

He blinked, pupils narrowing. “You heard me?”

“Every word.”

“Ah.” He raised a hand to cup my cheek. We stood that way, frozen in a moment I couldn’t quite name, but never wanted to have end.

Everything ends. Connor stepped up next to me, touching my arm like he didn’t believe I was real. Tybalt stepped away, and I turned to face Connor, offering him the same smile. “You jerk,” he whispered, and pulled me into a tight embrace. “You had us all scared out of our minds.”

“I’m not that easy to break.” I let my head rest against his shoulder.

“We weren’t so sure of that,” said Tybalt. I pulled away from Connor as I turned to face him. Connor let go with obvious reluctance, and so I took a small step backward, letting my shoulder blades graze his chest. The solidity of him was a comfort beyond measure. Voice even, Tybalt continued, “That was the worst case of iron poisoning I’ve ever seen. You had us all seeing visions of the night-haunts. How many times do you have to die before you stay buried?”

“How long was I in the cell?” I asked.

“A little over two days,” said Quentin.

“Two days?” I squeaked, leaning on Connor to steady myself. Two days in that cell explained why I still felt shaky: iron can be fatal in less time than that.

“Sylvester kept trying to argue or find a way to get you out of it, but the Queen blocked everything. You were going to be executed in the morning,” said Connor. “That’s why I was willing to leave my skin here if it meant getting you out.”

“Oh, root and branch,” I breathed, shuddering. Connor put a hand on my shoulder, bracing me. “I . . . ”

“It’s okay,” said Connor. “We know.”

“All three of you could have died.”

“We didn’t,” said Tybalt, implacably.

“You could have.”

“And you would have. Don’t argue with me, Toby, we’ll both lose. Did Raj give you your medicine?” The look Tybalt shot at Raj made it clear that a “no” wouldn’t bode well for the young prince.

“It’s disgusting,” I said flatly. “He said Walther made it. I assume that means he knows you got me out?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You’d have died of iron poisoning if it weren’t for him.” Tybalt reached over to brush my hair back, fingers lingering against the tip of my ear. I could practically feel Connor glaring. “Are you adjusting?”

“Not sure yet.” I sighed. “I think the Luidaeg and I need to have a little question and answer session when this is all over.” So many of the things she’d said to me were starting to make sense. I’d been missing the context I needed to understand them.

“May told us what Amandine did,” Quentin said. “It seems . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t have the vocabulary to express what she’d done to me. That was all right. Neither did I.

“Bizarre? Tell me about it.” I looked to Tybalt again. “Did the antidote work?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “My people are recovering.”

“And Luna?”

The smile faded. “The Duchess isn’t well.”

“We’ve treated the roses, but she’s getting worse,” said Connor.

“That’s not acceptable.” I looked around the group. “I have to find Oleander.”

“You’re not leaving here,” said Tybalt.

“You’re right,” I said. Before the looks of relief on the people around me could get too entrenched, I added, “Not until after I’ve put on some real clothes, had a real meal, and drunk about a pot of coffee. Is there coffee?”

“October—” started Connor.

I pulled away. “We can’t hide here forever; either I find Oleander, or I get executed the first time I go home. You know Tybalt would get sick of us.”

“Perhaps some of you,” said Tybalt, sounding grudgingly amused.

I looked from face to face. All these people were such vital parts of my life, and I was asking them to let me go again. The trouble was, they knew me well enough to understand why I didn’t have a choice.

“So.” I turned my attention back on Tybalt, and smiled. “Breakfast?”

TWENTY-NINE

“NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

I glanced up from the vital business of trying to construct a sandwich from French toast, rubbery fried eggs, bacon, and strawberry jam. “What’s this objection to?”

“You are not leaving here without me.”

“Ah. Yeah, I am. Sorry about that.” I used a liberal amount of syrup to compensate for the sandwich’s lack of structural integrity and took several messy, wonderful bites before continuing, “I wish I could take you. I really do. But the Queen has to suspect you were involved in breaking me out, if she doesn’t already know. Your subjects need you too much for me to let you put yourself in danger for me again.”

Tybalt glared but didn’t argue. I offered an apologetic smile in return.

“Bet you’re sorry you fed me, huh?”

“There are many things I’m sorry to have done.”

Half an hour ago, I was barely staying upright under my own power. It’s amazing what a difference a solid meal makes. Even better, Tybalt had returned my clothes, including my jacket; freshly cleaned and smelling as strongly of pennyroyal as it did when he first gave it to me. I suspected he’d been wearing it while I was knocked out. Somehow, I couldn’t find it in me to mind.

I’ve always been a fast healer, but this bordered on ridiculous. One more side effect of Amandine’s little parlor trick, and one more thing to discuss with the Luidaeg. Silly me, I always assumed accelerated healing was a Daoine Sidhe thing that just didn’t come up often in company that didn’t make a habit of brawling.