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Yolland moved past us in his court finery, his iron sword bare in his hand. I couldn’t see what he did, but he said, “The green-haired guard has only the faintest pulse.”

“What about Mistral?” Sholto asked.

“The same.”

“We have to get Mistral to a healer,” I said, still wrapped in the warmth of Sholto’s back, and other things.

“What of Onilwyn?” Sholto asked. I was pressed so close to his back that his words vibrated against my cheek.

I thought of the look on Onilwyn’s face, the hatred. He meant my death, and sparing his life wouldn’t change that determination in his eyes. He would see it as weakness. “He must die.”

I felt Sholto startle; even the tentacles reacted like a hand that almost draws back from yours. “We should ask the queen first, Meredith.”

“Are there healers at the sluagh?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then take Mistral and me there. I must get out of the cold, and he needs the killing metal out of his body.”

“Let us take you to the Seelie Court,” Yolland said.

I laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Without the power of the wild hunt, I would not enter there like this.”

“Then the Unseelie Court,” Sholto said.

“The men you killed were lords of that court, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Then it is not safe. Take me to your kingdom, Sholto.”

“The sidhe are more fragile than the people of the sluagh. I am not certain our healers are the best for the Storm Lord.”

“He needs the metal out of him, and warmth; beyond that, we will see. But time is not his friend, or ours. Kill Onilwyn. When we have survived this night, we will seek an audience with the queen.”

“You cannot mean to end the life of one of the sidhe,” Turloch said. “My enemies are many, my friends are few. I must prove to the first that to come against me is death, and to the second that I am strong enough to rule here.” Then I hugged Sholto and told the truth. “I saw my death and the deaths of my unborn children in Onilwyn’s face. If I spare him, he will see it as weakness, not mercy. I do not want him at my back with that hot determination in his eyes. I am pregnant with twins. Would you risk the first royal babies since I was born to squeamishness?”

“It is not squeamishness, my lady,” Turloch said.

“Princess,” Sholto said. “She is Princess Meredith.”

“Fine. Princess Meredith, it is not squeamishness, but the thought of losing another lord of the sidhe. We are so few now, Princess. Even those who are twisted and Unseelie are precious to some of us, for many of them once walked the golden corridors of our court before they fell from favor.”

“I am aware that many of our lords and ladies were once yours, Lord Turloch. But that does not change Onilwyn’s fate.”

“You are not my queen yet, and this I will not do,” he said.

Sholto started to speak, but I squeezed him tightly, and he took the hint. He let me speak instead. “I would think long, Lord Turloch, on the fact that I brought a sidhe lord down single-handedly with no weapon.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked.

“It is truth,” I said, and let him take it any way he wished.

“Do as she commands,” Sholto said. “You are still part of the hunt, and I am still the huntsman.”

“Only until dawn breaks,” he said.

“We will be free at dawn, but whether you are free or condemned to ride forever with the hunt remains to be seen,” I said.

“What?” he said.

“She is right,” Lord Dacey said, “for we attacked the hunt. Punishment can be to ride forever.”

“Only the huntsman can free you,” Sholto said, “so I would prove myself a good solider, Turloch, if I were you.” His voice was cold, and he was very certain of himself. Only I was close enough to feel his heartbeat speed up. Was he not certain of his words, or not certain what the sidhe would do? Or did he agree with the other men that Onilwyn should be spared? The prospect of being trapped in the hunt was a fate that might make them fight us. The magic of the hunt was beginning to fade; I could feel it. It wouldn’t be dawn that broke it. We could end up with a second fight on