“Ms. Taylor-Jones mistook you for someone else,” Gabriel said. “She’s very distraught. Now, I appreciate that you’re doing your job, but are you aware of the legal ramifications of keeping my client from her mother?”

“Client?”

Gabriel continued, smoothly holding the nurse’s attention as I headed for the closed door. “Yes, client. Ms. Taylor-Jones is the de facto guardian for Pamela Larsen, who is a prisoner of the state, and under the provisions of the penal code…”

I tuned out whatever legalese fiction he was spinning and opened that door. Then I slipped through and found myself in an empty room. Across from me was another door, cracked open, which seemed a little too obvious. So I checked furniture instead—under a desk, inside a cabinet—and texted Gabriel.

Second door partly open. No sign he’s hiding.

I hit Send and then typed: I’ll wait 4 U, and imagined his exhale of relief as he got them, saving him from madly texting a warning.

I did wait. I also approached that door, though, slipping close enough to peer through and—

The hall door opened, and Gabriel walked through.

“The nurse is occupied,” he said as he approached. “I put the fear of legal action into her and suggested she find the doctor who issued the order.”

“Who I’m presuming is the one who went through that door. And is likely on the other side, listening to us. He could make this much easier by coming in here and joining the conversation.”

I waited. Silence.

“And that’s a no.” I pushed open the door. It led into a back hall. An empty one, lined with doors. As we started along it, I called, “We get that you’re luring us somewhere. It’s kind of obvious.”

“Then why are you following?” asked a voice.

We turned to see the so-called doctor, leaning in an open doorway.

“No, don’t answer that,” he said. “You’re Tylwyth Teg. You can’t help yourselves, poor things.”

“Pretty sure you’re more fae than we are.”

“Fae, yes, technically. Tylwyth Teg?” He scrunched his nose. “No, I come from sturdier stock. Fae far less likely to allow blind curiosity to lead them into obvious traps.”

“We love traps. They’re like puzzles, only with higher stakes.” I stepped toward him. “And for a fae who’s so dismissive of his Welsh brethren, you’re taking quite an interest in their affairs, playing sycophant to my mother.”

“Sycophant?” He laughed. “Hardly. It’s a mutual allegiance.”

“Mmm, yeah. You just keep telling yourself that. Ask Tristan about my mother’s idea of a mutual allegiance.”

“Tristan was a spriggan. Inferior stock, again. I know what I’m doing.”

I opened my mouth to dispute that, but Gabriel edged past me, saying, “Where is Pamela?”

“Ah, the great Gwynn speaks.” The doctor mock-bowed. “Your highness. It is a pleasure.”