“Do you?”

The smugness on his face was too much for me to bear. I closed the distance between us in three long steps, grabbing his collar and yanking him toward me while the gathered pages gaped in dismay. “Do I see that you took the word of a woman whose magic marked her as being Rayseline Torquill? A woman who was wanted for murder in this Kingdom the last time I checked?”

“You dare!” Dugan flailed, trying to pull away. “Release me at once!”

“Make me,” I snarled, pulling him closer still. “Give me one good reason not to show you what this mongrel can do.”

“October!” Etienne grabbed my arm, trying to haul me off Dugan. “That is quite enough!” Bringing his face to my ear, he hissed, “Do not give the Queen cause to arrest you again. Not now. Not over him. He’s not worth your reputation.”

My anger needed something to focus on, and Dugan was more than suited to the position. But Etienne was right—if I got myself arrested, I wouldn’t be able to find the Lorden boys, and I wouldn’t be able to find my own daughter. The thought of Gillian was all that gave me the strength to relax my fingers. I shook Dugan once, hard, before releasing him. He staggered backward, staring at me, bug-eyed.

“I never thought you were a genius, Harrow, but by Maeve’s bones, before tonight, I never knew that you were such a twice-cursed fool,” I spat.

“You dare—” he choked, clutching his throat with one hand. I hoped like hell it was going to leave a bruise.

I took a step forward, feeling a cold satisfaction when he shied back, away from me. “I outrank you, and I’m pretty sure I can outfight you, so yes, I dare,” I said flatly. Raising my voice, I called to the pages, “Be careful with this man. He’ll give you orders that get you killed, as long as they make him look good. If you have a choice? Don’t listen.”

“Time to go,” said Etienne, taking my elbow.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room, feeling the stares of the pages on my back every inch of the way.

We were well down the hall and out of sight of the armory when Etienne tightened his grip, spinning me around to face him. “Are you insane?” he demanded. “Taunting Dugan Harrow is not a good idea!”

“Really?” I asked, scowling at him. “Why not? What can he do, Etienne? Glare at me across the room? Tell the Queen I’m a naughty girl? Oooh, I’m shaking. I can’t lose his good opinion. I never had it.”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s not her seneschal, and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t think well of you. Taunting him is still foolish.” He let go of me. “I taught you better than to lower yourself to his level—and he’s hungry, October. Daoine Sidhe without position are always hungry. You’d know that, if you—” He stopped, looking stricken, as as he realized what he’d been about to say.

“If I were Daoine Sidhe,” I finished, since he clearly wasn’t going to. “If I were Daoine Sidhe, I’d know about being hungry for power and position, and wanting to have something I could control. I guess we’re all lucky I’m not Daoine Sidhe, huh?”

Etienne lowered his eyes, looking ashamed. “I apologize. I should never have said that.”

“You didn’t.” I paused. If I were Daoine Sidhe—what I always believed myself to be—I would have understood being hungry for power. But I’m Dóchas Sidhe, and that means I understand something different.

I understand blood.

“Change of plans. Can you transport us again?” I asked.

“What?” Etienne raised his head. “I—yes, of course, if it’s only the two of us. Have you found everything you need? Is it time to return to Shadowed Hills?”

“Not quite.” I pulled the borrowed phone from my pocket, holding it up for him to see. “I need to make a few phone calls. But first, we’re going to Goldengreen.”

Etienne frowned. “Are you intending to do something foolish?”

“I guess that depends on your definition.” I shrugged. “But yeah, by most definitions, probably. Come on, Etienne. Let’s go prevent a war.”

TWENTY-TWO

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN the Queen’s Court and Goldengreen is shorter than the distance between Shadowed Hills and the Queen’s Court. That, combined with my lack of anything that even resembled food, probably explained why I didn’t feel the need to throw up after we made the crossing. I did stagger backward until my butt hit the wall, and slump forward to rest my hands on my knees, panting a little.

Etienne watched impassively. “You know, for someone who spends so much time bleeding, you have very little resistance to vertigo.”

“Is that what this is? Because it feels more like I just rode a big roller coaster about eight times.”

“Yes, precisely.” Etienne shook his head. “Are you like this every time you travel with the King of Cats?”

“Nope.” The room was mostly done spinning. I straightened cautiously. My stomach chose to stay where it was. “The Shadow Roads go in more for freezing me to death. Puking is new and exciting.”

“Your way with words remains unmatched.” Etienne wrinkled his nose. “Much as I appreciate a regent’s desire to return to their home fiefdom, what, precisely, are we doing here?”

“Lots of things. Come on.” I started down the hall. Etienne followed. “Have you been here before?”

“Not in many years.”

“So you haven’t seen the place since we redecorated. Gotcha.” One of the resident bogeys skittered across the wall at head-height before vanishing into the rafters.

Etienne’s eyes widened. “Did you see that?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got bogeys. They’re sort of in charge here. It’s a long story.” I stuck my head into the kitchen. Marcia was at the counter, directing a pair of Urisks and a young Barrow Wight through the process of making bread. “Hey, Marcia?” I called. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

She looked up, smiling brilliantly. A smudge of flour was on one cheek, just under the circles of faerie ointment that ringed her eyes. “Toby!” She patted one of the Urisks on the shoulder. “You guys are doing fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing—and try not to get any more bogeys in the dough, okay? I’ll be right back.” Apparently satisfied that she’d managed to keep her apprentices from giving us all food poisoning, she walked toward us, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the Queen’s Court. And who’s your friend?”