“Nothing much. Are you busy?”

“Not really—Jessica, you put your brother down!—why do you ask?” I couldn’t blame her for sounding a little suspicious. Being one of my best friends has taught her to be wary of unexpected phone calls.

“I have to go to a thing at the Queen’s Court tonight, and I have nothing to wear.” I picked up a denim skirt from the closet floor. Either May had been committing acts of appliqué on my clothes, or it was hers. “Also, if I try to do my own hair, I’ll wind up looking like someone’s prize collie.”

Stacy paused before asking, “Toby, what’s going on?”

I bit back a sigh. Sometimes having observant friends is more trouble than it’s worth. “It’s a diplomatic event. Representatives from the local Undersea Duchy will be there, and I’m supposed to represent Goldengreen, which means dressing like an adult.”

“Ah, the joys of being a Countess.” Stacy sounded relieved. “Diplomatic event” apparently didn’t set off any warning bells in her head. “Do you need me to help you get ready?”

“Please?”

“No problem. Is May there?”

“Not right now. Why?”

“I have a horrible scarf for her. Karen silk-screened it in art class.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it. See you in an hour?”

“Something like that. Open roads.” She hung up.

Most of the contents of my closet were on the floor by that point. I prodded them with a toe as I sat down on the bed. Assuming Stacy left when she said she was going to, I had about forty-five minutes to get cleaned up, get more coffee, and make a few more calls. I sighed and started dialing.

My next call was to a Glastig named Bucer O’Malley. We used to live together in a place called Home, back when I thought “street thug” was a legitimate career aspiration. We hadn’t worked together in a long time, but I knew he was still in the Kingdom. A lot of Devin’s former kids have stayed at least loosely in touch, tied by shared secrets and shared shame. If anyone local had hired a kidnapper, Bucer would know.

He didn’t pick up his phone. I left a vague message, including the strong suggestion that he call me back, and dialed again, calling a contact I felt a lot better about: Danny, the Bridge Troll cab driver who’s somehow become an ally of mine. I blame it on his underdeveloped sense of self-preservation. I’m just glad he’s on my side. Sometimes it’s handy to have a seven-foot-tall mountain that walks like a man and is willing to hit things on my behalf.

“Yo,” said Danny, shouting to be heard over the barking of his pack of resident Barghests. His house could give Stacy’s a run for the money in the area of sheer noise.

“Hey, Danny, it’s Toby.”

“Tobes!” he said, with undisguised delight. “What’s up, girl? You need a ride somewhere?”

“Not a ride—a favor. Have you heard about what’s going on with Saltmist?”

The delight vanished instantly. “Not in so many words, but everyone knows somethin’s up. Nobody’s seen any of the Merrow that usually hang by the docks for days, an’ most of the Selkies are gone, too. There somethin’ I need to be aware of?”

“Well, we may be going to war. Does that count?” His silence said it did. “I want you to start asking around. See if anybody’s come into money recently, or if anyone unfamiliar has been shopping around for henchmen.”

“On it,” said Danny. “You got anything else you need?”

“The sons of the Duchess of Saltmist have disappeared. I need to find them. First, I need to attend a diplomatic gathering at the Queen’s Court. So if there’s anything you can do while I’m unavoidably detained, I’d be in your debt.”

“Don’t need you in my debt, girly. Just need you to keep breathin’.”

“I’m working on that. Open roads, Danny.”

“Same to you.”

I felt slightly better as I left the room. Between Danny and Bucer—if Bucer bothered calling me back—I at least had eyes at the street level while I was busy hobnobbing with people who didn’t even like admitting the street existed. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle Faerie can function at all, since we seem to be constantly in denial about how our society works.

Spike followed me to the bathroom, perching on the edge of the sink and chirping. I leaned over to stroke its thorny head while I waited for the water to warm up. Running water is one of the true beauties of mortal ingenuity. Faerie may have castles of glass and mirrors that talk, but it took humans to invent the flush toilet.

Much as I wanted to spend an hour or two in the shower, letting it work out the knots from my lesson with Sylvester—and my “lessons” with Connor—I had things to do. I rinsed off quickly, turning off the water and slipping on my bathrobe before opening the bathroom door.

May was waiting for me in the hall, an amused expression on her face. “Hi,” she said.

“Hey, you’re home.” I brushed past her. “Bathroom’s free.”

“That’s nice.” She folded her arms, mock-glaring at me. “Jazz and I found Stacy sitting on the doorstep when we got home. You’re a bad friend.”

“How long ago was that?” I asked, before raising my voice to shout, “You’re early!”

“I know!” Stacy called back.

I rolled my eyes. “This is going to be fun. Did she tell you why she’s here?”

“No, but Luna did when she called me to come pick up your dress. You’re going to be the prettiest princess at the whole ball.” May dodged my ineffective swipe and flounced off toward the kitchen. She was a good flouncer. I glared at her retreating back, secretly relieved. I didn’t want to explain the situation with Stacy in the apartment. It would worry her, and worrying Stacy is never a good idea.

Stacy was waiting in my room. She’d cleared the clothes off my bed and floor while she waited, putting them away with a precision most of my wardrobe hadn’t experienced since leaving Old Navy.

She was eyeing my underwear drawer when I arrived. “Toby, I think some of these predate synthetic fabrics.”

“Hello to you, too,” I said dryly. “You’re here to do my hair, not mock my taste in clothes.”