Rosemary and Rue

I hit him sideways, elbow impacting with his solar plexus. Something in my shoulder ripped as I put pressure on the fresh scar, flaring into angry, throbbing pain. Even magical healing only compensates for so much; the scar looked old, but it wasn’t.

Gravity pulled us both to the floor. I grabbed his wrist with my right hand and planted my knee in his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He tried to squirm free, making the sort of hurt, startled barking sound a seal would make if you hit it with a stick. He wasn’t going for a weapon. I paused. Who did I know that would start barking like a seal if you hurt him?

“Connor?”

“Yeah,” he gasped. Most of the nobility are wimps—they don’t get hurt often enough to take it in stride. I wish I could be a wimp. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Why the hell are you sneaking around in here?” I let go of him and stood. A spreading dampness was covering my shoulder; I was fairly sure I’d managed to reopen something. “That’s not a smart thing to do. I’ve had a lousy week.”

Connor levered himself into a sitting position, making little huffing noises. He’d obviously expected some sort of help getting up, even if it was just my hand. “I heard,” he said. The darkness kept me from seeing his face. I found myself perversely grateful for that. “Lily told me about what happened to Ross. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

“When did you see Lily?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Last time I’d checked, Lily hadn’t been speaking to any of the local nobles. Like most of Golden Gate Park’s landholders, she liked to keep to herself.

“Sylvester sent me. He was looking for you.”

“What? Devin called him. He knew where I was.”

Connor paused. “Toby, no one called. I came here because Lily said she thought you might have ended up here. The whole Duchy’s up in arms. Sylvester’s terrified.”

I felt myself going cold. “That can’t be right.”

“Believe it.” He stood, still breathing a little unevenly. “You hit pretty hard for a girl.”

“And you fall down pretty easy for a boy. Connor, are you serious? Sylvester really doesn’t know where I am?”

“He has no idea.” Connor’s feet scuffled against the floor, sending echoes through the room. “Do you mind if I turn on the lights? Having this discussion in the dark is starting to creep me out.”

“If you know how to do it, be my guest.”

“Right.” Footsteps moved away from me, followed by a scraping sound before the room filled with warm, colorless light that seemed to emanate from the walls. Connor was about five feet away, hand pressed flat against one of the decorative sconces. I must have been staring, because he shrugged.

“Evening showed me,” he said. “She thought it was a good idea for someone else to know.”

“How long ago?”

“A few months.”

That implied one of two things. Either Evening had been expecting to die . . . or this wasn’t Connor. “Here.” I offered him the knife I’d borrowed from Dare, hilt first. “Take this.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

“Because I need you to cut yourself.” He looked blank, and I sighed. “I just got attacked by a Doppelganger, Connor. I don’t really think whoever wants me dead is going to spring for another one when the first one failed, but a girl can’t be too careful.”

“You’re serious.”

“Usually, yes.”

Glowering, he took the knife and nicked his index finger, holding it up to show me. “See? Perfectly normal blood.”

Doppelgangers can fake a lot of things. They can’t fake bleeding. “Excellent. My knife, if you would?” I held out my hand, and, still glowering, he pressed the hilt back into my palm.