Page 37 of When Sorrows Come

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I get a vote? Because I was just in her memories, and I’m reasonably sure she’d prefer the counter-tincture to missing the season finale ofCanada’s Got Talent.”

“She does like her modern media,” agreed the Ellyllon, rising and moving to kneel again, this time beside Tybalt. He leaned forward as he pried one of Tybalt’s eyes open, peering into it. “Yes, again, elf-shot. Both should be fine.”

A knot I hadn’t been allowing myself to admit I felt untied itself somewhere behind my sternum, in the birdcage enclosure of my ribs. “I’m grateful to hear that,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Walther will be able to treat and wake them both—he’s our—”

“WaltherDavies?” asked the Ellyllon, wings buzzing again, this time with excitement. “The alchemist who first developed the treatment for elf-shot? The man who woke the sleepers? I know who he is, I just never expected him to be willing to travel here with you. No offense intended, ma’am, I know your marriage is an event of some significance, but an alchemist of his stature—surely it must be difficult for the Mists to spare him.”

I turned my face away to hide my smile. “Indeed,” I said. There was no point in telling the man that Walther had yet to allow Arden to name him her court alchemist, even though there was no one else available to take up the position. Until he had tenure, he said, his first fealty had to be to the University of California’sBerkeley campus, where he spent his days teaching mostly mortal students what he called “new and better ways to poison themselves.”

He was on a tenure track, so he’d probably let her convince him sometime in the next few years, but until then, he was staying stubbornly exactly where he was, freelance alchemist and chemistry professor, officially unaffiliated with any Court except for the one Tybalt and May occasionally jokingly accused me of putting together in my living room.

As if. I would be theworstliege. Everyone’s duties would be based around whose turn it was to pick up the pizza this week.

“I would be honored to share the treatment of these patients with Master Davies,” said the Ellyllon, as I finally picked myself up off the floor and shook my skirt out, amazed at how little blood was on the fabric. Stacy was going to be so proud of me.

Once she got done yelling about the stab wound in my side, that was.

Slowly, I turned and looked at the open door to Nessa’s quarters, showing the frosting-smeared hall and the place where the Satyr’s body had been. In its place, the night-haunts had left a bundle of twigs and straw twined around with dried wildflowers. It was pretty, in a terrible way, and I had to wonder whether that was what lay beneath all of their manikins. If so, January O’Leary was going to have a nasty surprise the first time she got too close to a match...

“Does High King Aethlin have any Bridge Trolls in his service?” I asked abruptly.

The Ellyllon blinked but nodded. “Three in the guard, two more on the landscaping team,” he said.

“Good.” I turned to fully face him. “We’re gonna need them. Also, do you have a name? Thinking of you as ‘the Ellyllon’ is getting old, and maybe a little bit insulting.”

“Galen,” he said, smiling. “As for the Bridge Trolls, I can relay your message to His Majesty, unless you wanted to send the Cait Sidhe boy who came for me...?”

“Raj is a Prince of Cats, not an errand boy,” I said. “We’ll need to move both Caitir and Tybalt to the infirmary and notify Walther that we need the tincture readied.”

“I can do that,” said May.

“Great,” I said. “I’ll stay here and wait for the Bridge Trolls.”

Galen blinked. “Oh, you meant—well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to—yes, of course.” He bent and scooped Caitir into his arms, wings working overtime to let him stay upright with her weight pressing against him. Raj wasn’t quite as able to lift Tybalt, but with May’s help, they were able to get his arms slung around their shoulders and hoist him to his feet.

It was wholly undignified, and I found myself half-wishing I’d given in the last time April had tried to talk me into letting her upgrade my phone to something that didn’t fit in my pocket butwouldtake pictures. These would have been great to bring up the next time he laughed at me, however delicately, for tripping over my own feet trying to get into Muir Woods.

Oh, well. Some moments are meant to be savored, not preserved.

Jazz and Quentin didn’t move, waiting for me to tell them what we were going to do next. I turned to them, running my hand through my hair, which had managed to escape the last of Stacy’s styling in all the chaos and was increasingly coming to lay loose and flat around my face.

“Okay,” I said. “The room isheavilybooby-trapped. Cillian,” we all knew better than to use Quentin’s real name inside the knowe, where the walls were quite literally listening, “what have you managed to pick up about this Nessa woman? Is there any chance she went willingly with whoever sent the Doppelganger?”

“No,” he said staunchly. “If she’s gone, it’s because she’s been replaced. She’s completely loyal to my—to the royal family.”

I gave him a look, trying to communicate that he needed to be more careful. A slip like that in front of the wrong person and I could be up on charges of treason. He shrugged, expression sheepish. He knew he’d messed up, but that didn’t mean he could stop himself from making mistakes. I sighed, allowing my face to soften. I would always forgive him, and he knew it. When he’d called me family, he’d been acknowledging a bond that each of us knew went both ways. Maybe my daughter still didn’t want me in her life, but I could be there for my son.

Sons, if Raj was to be taken seriously, which he probably wasn’t. It can be hard to tell with him. Cait Sidhe seem to come into the world already speaking fluent sarcasm.

“And you’re sure she’s that loyal?” I asked.

He nodded vigorously. “She’s had opportunities to leave, andshe’s always refused them. All the core staff—the ones who have access to the private family quarters, who can get near the heirs when they’re home—agree to submit annually to interview by the Court Seer, Fiac, and he’s an Adhene.”

Adhene can taste lies. They become enraged when people deceive them—sort of like I do, only with more violence and murder. No one with any sense would intentionally lie to an Adhene. Fortunately, they can tell the difference between intentional deceit and repeating someone else’s falsehood, and while they don’t like innocent deception any more than they like the on-purpose kind, they’re pretty good about directing their rage at the right people.

They don’t usually hang around noble courts voluntarily. Either Aethlin had something on this Fiac, or he was a better king than I had ever guessed he might be.

“Nessa proved her loyalty to this house over and over again,” continued Quentin, looking down at his feet. “She wouldneverhave let a monster in voluntarily or agreed to laying traps in her rooms, and now she’s missing, and I don’t know... I don’t know...” He trailed off, sounding miserable.

---