He suppresses a smile. “I was going to say volatile. I think he’s wrong to antagonize you.”

I shake my head, unable to believe even this tiny bit of generosity. “But—”

“I trust Nicholas. He is our king and, more than that, he is my friend. Whatever you two have decided is none of my business. And”—his eyes soften—“you brought him back to us. Something tells me he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

My breath catches. Nick wouldn’t have been here tonight if it weren’t for me.

The world spins. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Sel was casting a mesmer, but this isn’t him. He didn’t do this.

Tonight was my choice, and it’s too much. Everything. All of it. Too much. I’d chosen a ruse to find the truth about my mother’s death. To find out the truth for myself. For my father. Maybe even to prove to Alice that I was right and she was wrong.

I didn’t choose the smell of decay still clinging to the back of my tongue, to the inside of my mouth. I didn’t choose the sound of Nick’s father’s spine shattering against an oak tree. The dull crack of Nick’s skull splitting open on stone.

My stomach turns again—and an arm wraps around my shoulders. “This way.” I stumble, and William pulls me tighter to his side as he pushes a door open. “Here we go.”

A stall door, a toilet. Then I’m on my knees heaving, retching, heaving again until it feels like everything I’ve ever eaten has exited my body.

When I’m done, I lean back on my heels. His hand rubs soothing circles around my back. A cool palm rests against my forehead. We sit in the quiet until my breath slows.

After a while, William hands me a lime-colored cloth handkerchief. I stare down at it, puzzled at the alarmingly bright fabric. I hear the smile in his voice. “It was my father’s. The Line of Gawain is what discerning people call ‘ostentatious.’ ” I hold the cloth, hesitant to use it, but he counters before I can say a word. “Please. I have an embarrassingly large amount in an embarrassingly green chest somewhere.”

I give a weak smile as I wipe my nose and mouth. When I’m done, he leads me to a cushioned bench near the bathroom’s sinks.

“Thank you.”

“No more of that.” He pats my knee and watches my face with attentive eyes. “Our world is… a lot.”

I inhale shakily. “Yes.”

He tilts his head. “And you’re sure you want to be in it?”