Only I didn’t want to. Like, really didn’t. The firelight edged the pure white fletching on the arrow, highlighted some strange markings on the sides, and glinted off the wickedly sharp tip. The latter was dark and pitted, like iron, although that would have been an odd choice for a fey. They acted like the metal was radioactive or poisonous, and avoided it at all costs.

Although maybe that was the point, I thought sickly. Anything would work to bring down animals, even sharpened wood or stone. But if you were hunting sentient prey, ones who might have a better chance of evasion, you’d want to up the ante, wouldn’t you?

You’d want something that would poison them, as soon as it bit.

“You’re in no condition to do anything,” Gertie said. “I shouldn’t even have taken you today—”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Rhea said, and there was nothing sweet about her tone this time.

“Watch your tongue, girl—”

“I have. Too often.” Rhea got between me and the arrow. “No more. I am the Lady’s heir, and she is injured. She will not be touching that… thing… today.”

Gertie blinked at her, looking confused. Maybe because Rhea’s tone had been flat, even borderline belligerent, but they were actually in agreement. Which wouldn’t work for me.

“No,” I said, trying to get up.

Only to find a soft, but implacable hand on my shoulder. “Sit down,” Rhea said quietly.

It wasn’t a command, but it was close.

“I’m fine—”

“Sit, or I will strap you to the chair.”

I blinked.

“Quite right,” Gertie said. “Sometimes even a Pythia must take instruction.”

“Yes, you’re such a fine example of that,” Agnes said, her voice sour. And before Gertie could respond, she walked over, took the young girl by the shoulder, and ushered her out.

Gertie watched her, looking puzzled. “Bring her back,” she told Agnes.

Agnes didn’t bring her back. She closed the door behind the girl, then turned around with her back to it. She looked at the two of us, and as with Rhea, there was nothing sweet or submissive in her expression. Not that there usually was when she dealt with me, but she was a lot more deferential with Gertie.

But she appeared to have reached tilt.

“There is not going to be any more oddness in this court,” she said abruptly. “No more trips whilst half dead; no more screaming fits; no more erotic sculptures made out of our best bed linens—”

“Hey! You claimed you didn’t find—” I stopped abruptly.

Gertie and Rhea turned to look at me, twin expressions of shock on their features, and I shut up.