“Charming.” He walked toward me, fingered the collar of the jacket I was wearing, and said, “It suits you, I think. You should keep it.”

“Tybalt, I—”

“Not that I would have it back, after the amount of blood you’ve doubtless shed on it.” He pulled his hand away. “You’re about to ask me for something. I recognize the look.”

“I am.” For a moment, I wanted to catch his hand, just to have something to hold onto. The moment passed. “I don’t know where Sylvester is, and he shouldn’t be taking this long. Can you go and try to find him?”

“Not until I’ve seen you safe.”

I shot him a sidelong look. He looked imperiously back.

Finally, I sighed. “Whatever.”

We walked the deserted halls in silence. At the futon room door, I knocked, and Connor let me in, only looking slightly askance at Tybalt. Quentin was asleep, his face pale in the gloom, while the Hippocampi frolicked in their tank, unaware of the dangers around them. Lucky things.

Tybalt nodded to Connor, then to me, before turning and melting away into the shadows of the hall. I closed the door, locking it, and looked at Connor. “Wake me half an hour before dawn or when Sylvester gets here, whichever comes first.”

“Do I want to ask?”

“Probably not,” I said, wearily. He nodded, hugging me briefly before letting me stretch out on the floor in front of the futon. I fell asleep almost as soon as my eyes were closed.

If I had any dreams, I don’t remember them.

“Toby, it’s time.” Connor’s voice, only inches from my ear. I jerked upright, nearly smacking my head into his, and stared at him.

“What?”

“It’s time.”

“Sylvester—”

“Tybalt can explain.” From the grim set of his lips, it wasn’t good.

I nodded. “All right. Just a second.” I stood, taking my time getting to my feet, and reached over to feel Quentin’s forehead. He wasn’t hot enough to worry me, and his breathing was even. Infection was a risk—it’s always a risk—but he wasn’t going to die in his sleep.

Tybalt was waiting in the hall, along with Elliot. Connor stepped out with me, keeping his hand on the doorknob. I looked between them.

“Well?”

“Your monarchs are such charming people,” said Tybalt, not bothering to hide his disdain.

I groaned. “Riordan.”

“She won’t believe Duke Torquill is here for valid reasons,” Elliot said. “I called her seneschal as soon as I heard, but . . .”

“But she’s stopping them at the border?”

“Indeed.” He nodded grimly.

“That’s just . . . damn.” I sighed. “All right, where’s Gordan?”

“In April’s room, with the door locked. Everyone’s accounted for.”