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“Sometimes he brings them back in pieces,” said Cuan.

“That seems—cruel,” Dru said, unable to stop herself. For a moment, she wished Ash were here. He was far better at steering conversation. But when she glanced over, he was deep in conversation with a pretty fey girl dressed in wreaths of green leaves and nothing else.

Cuan, who had followed her gaze, smiled with an edge of malice. “Do not get too attached to the Prince,” he said. “He will only slip through your fingers like water.”

“No doubt,” said Dru, “but I am not attached to him in such a way.”

“Well, it is the power the old King gifted him,” said Rathna softly. “Ash inspires loyalty. Which can even become love. He cannot help it. Unless he is bound with cold iron, his power cannot be dimmed or stopped.”

“Do other fey royals have such a gift?” Dru asked. Weird how easy it was to slip into the faerie style of speaking. “Does the Queen?”

“Not that gift. But she has others. Because she is a Queen, she is tied to the Seelie land,” said Callen. “It blooms and withers as her moods change. And of course, she can see the past and future in her scrying bowl.”

Her scrying bowl. The words jolted a memory in Dru. A story Julian had told her of his time in the Seelie Court, of the Queen taking him to look inside a golden bowl that rested below an enormous crystal. In it, he had seen awful things—awful things that had turned out to be entirely real.

Before Dru could reply, Elara had appeared at her side. “The Queen has requested that you return to your room.”

Dru looked around for Clary, and saw her being escorted toward them by Bonecrusher, who was leering coldly. Clary’s hands were already bound in front of her with silver wire. Behind her, Janus was speaking intently to the Queen—almost arguing with her. Dru guessed he was protesting Clary’s removal.

She didn’t see Ash anywhere.

After rising to her feet, Dru allowed Elara to bind her own hands. She could feel the stares of dozens of faeries as she and Clary were led from the banquet hall.

They proceeded back to their rooms in the same way they’d come: Bonecrusher walking ahead, Elara bringing up the rear some distance behind. Dru glanced sideways at Clary; she was glad for Clary’s company, but at the same time there seemed something very distant about her, as if she’d curled up inside herself for protection.

“When Janus talks to you,” Dru said in a half whisper, “what does he talk to you about? Does he mention his plans, for the future?”

Clary almost smiled. “He never says anything like that. He doesn’t trust me yet. All he wants right now is for me to like him.”

Dru snorted. “I’ve heard kidnapping ladies and locking them in cages really wins them over.”

Clary stared straight ahead. “I’m doing my best to play along without, you know.” She shuddered. “The longer I can delay him, the better. Give our friends a chance to rescue us.”

“You don’t think we should try to escape on our own?”

“Dru. Don’t do something that’ll put you in danger. It’s not exactly easy to escape the Seelie Court—even the fey can’t get to our world right now.”

There was a pause. Then, in a real whisper, Dru said, “What if I could get you a stele?”

Clary’s expression changed, and for a moment Dru saw through her weariness and anxiety to the girl who’d brought down Valentine and then Sebastian, with cleverness and a ruthless blade. “Well,” Clary said. “That would change things, wouldn’t it?”

—

The sound of voices drew Kit out of an exhausted sleep. He lay where he was for a moment, not moving, letting his body relax into the cocoon of blankets. At least, he tried to relax. But as the fog of sleep dissipated, memories bubbled up in his mind. The howling storm outside Cirenworth. Mina crying with terror. Kit reaching out his hand for Tessa’s, only to have his fingers close on nothingness.

Kit shoved his blanket down and sat up. The room was as he remembered it, only now Ty—fully dressed—was sitting on the windowsill, in low conversation with Livvy, who was drifting about a foot off the floor.

For a moment, Kit just watched them. There was something about seeing Ty like this—unguarded, without the weary, wary look he wore when he was talking to Kit. This was the Ty that Kit remembered, or rather the Ty he had not been able to forget.

“She’s all right,” Livvy was saying. “Anush is gone—I’m afraid he might have vanished, too. It doesn’t look like he packed. But Irene is fine. She’s loose in the hallways of the Scholomance. I followed her and she has a way out through an open window, so she can hunt.”

“She’s a wild animal, of course she’s fine,” Ty said approvingly, but Kit could hear the relief in his voice.

Livvy glanced over. “Hey. Look who’s up.”

Kit rubbed at his eyes. “I could sleep another twelve hours, honestly.”

“That’s not sleep, that’s hibernation,” said Ty, jumping down from the sill. “Besides. The library closes at three.”