Lambert’s been quiet for a few moments since Nightshade appeared, mostly because he’s sorting something out, squinting at the pixie. He doesn’t trust her as far as he can throw her (and considering she’s a True Fae that’s not very far anyway).

“She’s not corrupted by the Huntsman, and I should be able to tell if there are Hunters where she’s taking us,” he rasps. “... but probably not fast enough to do any good.”

He leans his weight against Childermass, more for the reassurance of his presence than actual support, and exhales. He wants to figure this out, but it’s hard to think like this.

“Fae can still bend the truth, but they can’t back out of a deal. If we’re that worried about trusting her, make one.”