This is the part Lambert’s less useful for — the nuts and bolts of the narrative they’ll use to weave the story together, he trusts Rita and Syrlya to come up with. He has own problems to deal with, like his own injuries dragging at him. The water feels chill and cool against his skin, but that only reminds him of the places it’s unpleasantly hot.

“I want the Summer Court’s secrets,” he tells Syrlya and Rita, grimly, as he gingerly unlocks the supercharged brace to let it dangle free rather than remaining pressed to his skin, which is likely to blister in a bracer-shaped band around his arm. “How they’re following us. What they’re afraid of. Any weakness we can use.”

If that sounds like it’s meant to make Ignatius think of a those things, that’s because it absolutely is. In the meantime, Lambert heads a little bit away from the other two, unhooking a healing draught from his belt and taking a swig. It kicks in enough to make staying vertical less of a challenge — meaning it’s easier to bend down and gently pick up the still-spinning gem and halt the music coming from it.

It’s quiet, now. If they weren’t about to try to extract information from a fae by coercion, it would almost be peaceful.