“That’s their call sign,” Yu added. “Fur die Freiheit. Fur die Wildnis. ‘For freedom. For the wild.’ If you go to Burg Katz, as planned, you can help fight for that.”

A shiver ran up my spine as the Deutsch phrase brought back the conversation I’d stumbled across on the radio, the tryst I’d heard two strangers planning in a place I’d never heard of.

Burg Cats. Burg Katz. Katz Castle.

Fur die Freiheit.

Fur die Wildnis.

I stared at Lang.

He had been the first to see my radio smuggled inside Godmother Althea’s book. This was second nature to these people. Hiding their purposes, hiding things where they didn’t belong.

No—this was their real errand. I was the thing that didn’t belong.

I put my hands on my hips, trying to breathe.

“Where are they?” I asked. “The Waldleute?”

“We don’t know where yet,” Andersen said. “I went to Odense, like our Sidhe contact told me to. I waited in the tavern night after night, for as long as we could risk staying—no sign of him.”

Yu sighed, his practical face frowning. “I don’t care how tight their networks are; England to Shvartsval’d is a long way. The intel could have been old; your man could have been waylaid.” He nodded at Lang.

“We’ll find them,” said Homer bracingly.

I blew out a breath. “My godmother. My father. They’re expecting me. They’re expecting Torden.” I turned to Yu. “I asked you weeks ago what you made of my father’s condition. It’s time to talk.”

Yu paused. “It could be nerve damage,” he said slowly. “Which can have many causes. Diabetes mellitus. Injury. Alcoholism.”

I shook my head. None of those made sense for Daddy.

He cleared his throat. “But to me, it sounds like poison.”

Poison.

I reeled, backing one, two steps away from the table until I hit the wall.

Poison. She was poisoning him.

I knew Alessandra was selfish. I’d suspected she wanted for her baby the future that should have been mine.

But I never believed she’d hurt Daddy—the father of her own child—to make that happen.

“How long does he have?” I asked. My heart beat jaggedly, slashing at my lungs.

“It’s hard to say,” Yu faltered. “It would depend on the specific poison. On the quantity he’s ingesting. It could be months. It could be years.”

“Or weeks. Or days!” I gave a hysterical laugh. My knees threatened to give way, and my head dropped into my hands.

“We can take you home,” Andersen blurted. “Or we can take you back to England first.”

To England. To Bear.

Somewhere between the outer gates of Winchester Castle and our location here in the Lysefjord, my anger at him had faded.