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Kit glared at her. “So you were there? In the café? Why didn’t I see you?”

“There’s another level I can fade to,” Livvy admitted. “One where I’m more…dispersed. It saves energy.”

Kit wondered if she meant her energy or Ty’s, but didn’t ask. The bond between them made him feel deeply unsettled. “Finding someone else would have wasted time. And time is what we don’t have.”

Livvy pointed a ghostly finger at him. “As long as you can be civil. Don’t snap at him.”

“He’s not a child, Livvy.”

“And don’t keep bringing up things he did four years ago.”

“You mean the necromancy he did four years ago?”

“That’s exactly the attitude I mean. Let it go, Kit, for as long as this mission lasts. If you just want to fight, you’ll derail it all.”

“It’s one trip to a library,” Kit said. “I think I’ll be able to prevent myself from Hulking out.”

“You’d better.”

Kit leaned forward. He was aware of the rain-spattered window behind him, aware that it reflected a compartment with only two passengers. It looked as if he were losing his mind, talking to no one. “Don’t you ever hate him a little bit?” he said softly. “For what he did? Making you a ghost, trapping you here?”

Livvy’s eyes darkened. “I don’t blame Ty,” she said. “I blame Annabel. The one who murdered me.”

Annabel had been an ancestor of the current Blackthorns, brought back from a place between life and death by the warlock Malcolm Fade. The trauma of being trapped so long in limbo had stripped Annabel’s humanity and led her to kill Livvy—in front of Ty and most of the other Blackthorns.

The horror of it had changed Ty forever.

“I understand why Ty did what he did,” Livvy said. “And you should, too. What if you had the chance to have Jem, Tessa, and Mina back right now? Would you take it?”

The question hit Kit like a blow to the chest. Livvy was watching him, her hair whipping around her angry face like Medusa’s snakes. He said, “But—that’s not a fair question. They’re alive.”

“So was I, once,” Livvy said, and with a last look at Ty, she disappeared.

—

There were no clocks in the Seelie Court. Elara had told Dru as much when she’d brought her breakfast this morning. Or had it been the previous morning? Dru wasn’t sure. Time moved strangely here: Sometimes it crept by interminably slowly, and at other times, it was as if Dru had just said goodbye to Elara after breakfast, and now she was welcoming the nixie back into her room to prepare dinner.

Ash hadn’t sent for her again, not since their first session. Anxiety bit at her. If Ash no longer had a use for her, a need for someone to teach him Shadowhunter fighting, then she would no longer have a place in the Court. The Queen would execute her without compunction.

The anxiety sent Dru pacing around her room like a caged tiger. She had to get out of the Seelie Court. She could flee for the Unseelie lands—she’d be safe there, since she was sister to the King’s consort. She could find Kieran, tell him what was happening in the Seelie Court, get help for Clary.

She felt excited for a moment before reality crashed in on the fantasy—how could she get to Unseelie if she couldn’t even get out of her room? The idea sent her off to circle the chamber, examining every nook and cranny for a way out. So far the search had yielded nothing. She was on her knees, inspecting the fireplace and chimney—a narrow fluted tunnel of rose-colored stone, much too small for a human to fit inside—when something fell past her, grazing her cheek, and landed on the hearth with a faint clink.

Dru scooted backward, her hands dusty with soot, and looked around for the object. It was an acorn, one end of which had been dipped in molten silver. It looked like a trinket, but hollow acorns, Dru knew, were one of the ways faeries sent messages.

She plucked it off the floor and opened it. Inside was a fine strip of vellum parchment, on which had been scrawled an invitation, addressed to Drusilla of Blackthorn. It almost made her smile, until she read the rest of the message.

It was an invitation to a banquet thrown by the Queen. A banquet intended to introduce Our new Nephilim visitors to the Court. A banquet that was happening tonight.

Dru scrambled to her feet. She had no idea what time of day it was, or how close she was to “tonight.” What she did know was that she had nothing to wear to a Faerie banquet and no idea how she was supposed to behave.

She padded over to the velvet bellpull and yanked it. Elara appeared almost instantly at the door, as if she’d been waiting out in the hall. She wore a teal cloak that matched her skin, and her long black hair was coiled up in ropy braids at the back of her neck. “I guess we’re not the Queen’s dirty little secret anymore,” Dru said, handing over the invitation. “She seems to have decided to parade us around in front of the whole Court.”

Elara looked bemused. “The Queen’s ways are mysterious.”

“I need a dress,” Dru said. “Unless you think I can turn up in ripped fishnets and boots.”

“I would not advise it,” said Elara solemnly, and closed the door, locking it behind her as she always did. A few minutes later, she was back with an armful of dresses, which she spread out on the bed for Dru to examine.