I force myself to look down and watch Olani assess the damage, and I don’t think I do a very good job of hiding my wince of sympathetic pain.

“How bad is it?” Isolde asks. I can see the white of her teeth against the dark, bared in a grimace.

Olani is so much better at staying collected than I am. “It’s broken,” she says gently, settling into herself again. “In a few places.”

Raze finally speaks. “This is all my fault. I should have—”

Isolde interrupts him. “It’s not your fault. It’s the cursed faeries’. Ow!” She pins Olani, who’s wrapping her ankle and splint in bandages, with an accusing glare. “Are you trying to snap it off?”

“Stop whining, or I will.” Olani looks up at her for less than a heartbeat before going back to work.

Isolde groans, this time in frustration. “Well, can you fix it?”

Olani is already digging through her bag again. “Not quickly.” She pulls out a few things and keeps talking steadily as she tends to the wound. “I can set it, no problem. Getting the bone to mend itself, though—that’s...more than I can do. I can probably speed up the process, but it’s going to take...at least a few days, I think.”

“We don’t have a few days,” Isolde says. “The Destiny is gone. Our supplies are gone. We don’t even know where we are.”

And then everyone looks at me, as if they’re just remembering that I’m the one who dropped us here. I’m the one responsible for leaving the Destiny, and all our things, and poor Birch behind in the faerie forest.

“Seelie...” Olani says, but then she doesn’t seem to know how to follow it.

“How did you do that?” I realize Raze has been anxiously pacing this whole time. Like the rest of us, his faerie finery looks strangely out of place. He paces with his arms crossed, and now that I’m aware of the tapping of his boots, it’s incredibly distracting.

I tapped into some strange kind of magic in the faerie world, made some kind of bargain that I don’t fully understand. But I can’t tell them that, so I just say, half truthfully, “I... I don’t know.”

“Mortals can’t create passage between the worlds,” he insists. “This is...home, right?”

That, at least, is a question I can answer. I might not know where we are, but I can feel the difference between the Seelie Realm and the mortal world. I’m surprised he can’t. “Yes.”

“How?” Isolde says softly. Her eyes are round and still vulnerable with pain, and the thought that they might reflect me differently now makes me feel sick.

Olani studies me with a hard, unreadable expression. “You are mortal, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I repeat, at the same time Isolde says, “Of course she is!”

Silence falls for a beat, and whatever it is that passes between the four of us makes me feel unsteady. Finally, I break it. “I don’t know how I did it. I just—I had to save us. I don’t know how any of this works. You have to trust me.”