Suddenly, I think of something else. My hand flies to the base of my throat, but the leather cord is still intact, and the glass vial hasn’t broken. I exhale deeply, hand pressing around it like it’ll make anything better as my eyes go back to my dress.

I’m coated in mud. My favorite (ruined, destroyed) dress will probably never be robin’s-egg blue again, but that’s the least of my concerns.

“Isolde...” My voice is still a little slurred. “You okay?” The rain has washed most of the blood from her, and someone bandaged her head and arm while I was out. Why would they do that?

“It’s just a bump on the head. Are you okay?”

I give her a doubtful look but surrender. “I... I’ve been better.”

Olani cuts in, her gaze on me so intense it almost stings. “The burns will heal. You’ll dry out eventually. I won’t even steal the compass and leave you to the mercy of Leira Wildfall’s guards, which is more than you did for us.”

“Olani.” Raze sounds tired when he says her name, like a little brother asking for a reprieve from teasing. But he isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at me. His gaze tingles uncomfortably as I realize that Olani pulled my left arm palm-up to check it, and he’s openly staring at the enchanted symbol in my skin. His eyes lock on it, rather than me, as he says, “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

“Could have...fooled me,” I mumble, struggling to stand.

Isolde’s wiry arm slips around me, helping prop me up but also holding me solidly to the ground. “You followed us,” she accuses the other two. “I don’t care what you want. We walked away with the compass, fair and square. It’s ours.”

There’s an awkward pause. Raze ruffles his wet hair, and Olani takes a sudden, intense interest in her fingernails. They both look like they’re really hoping the other will speak. Finally, Olani says, “It’s working now. Whatever she did to it, the needle is pointing to something.”

Raze interrupts, ignoring the pointed glare she shoots in his direction. “So. How’d you manage that, changeling?”

I scowl.

He sighs, and his broad shoulders slump. Rivers of rain run off him, making him look like a dejected umbrella. “Listen, I don’t really care how you did it. We just need it back.”

I doubt the vague response of I have no idea what I did to it will be enough to satisfy them. Besides, working with them is out of the question, and I suddenly remember that I have other problems. We have to get out of here. Every movement hurts, but I’m increasingly frantic as I look around, hoping I’m misremembering things, hoping I’m wrong.

There’s nothing in any direction but empty, muddy road, the two horses, and crushed grass.

“Seelie, calm down. Breathe. What’s wrong?” Isolde tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I’m already pushing her away, breathing hard.