Late Eclipses (5 page)

“May!”

“What? I’m just asking. I mean, sure, maybe it’s not important that Tybalt kissed you. And I’m sure it doesn’t matter that he’s leaving, and you look like someone stole your puppy.” She paused. “Maybe ‘stole your kitten’ would be a better comparison.”

“Can we
not
have this conversation?”

“Okay,” said May, amiably. “It’s no skin off my nose if you want to ignore the hottie making ‘pick me up and take me home’ eyes at you.”

“It was just a ploy.” A ploy that felt an awful lot like a kiss. There was no way he’d ever kiss me like that and mean it, but for a moment, it felt like . . .

“You’re not that dense. You have to know he digs you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Would I lie to you?” She grinned. “Watching the two of you is fun, in a sick, sad, voyeuristic sort of way.”

“Get a life.”

“I’ve got yours. Now come on. Don’t you want to get snuggly with him?”

I didn’t have to find a way to answer that. The scent of rowan sliced through the air, washing away all traces of lesser magic and casting an anticipatory hush over the Court. My shoulders locked with a whole new type of tension.

“Whoa,” said May.

I turned toward the dais at the head of the room, and stared.

The Queen had made some changes to her image. When I brought her the hope chest Evening Winterrose died to protect, the Queen was an ethereal siren, as elegant and regal as a Tolkien wet dream. Now she looked like the bastard daughter of Titania and Alice Cooper. Kohl ringed her eyes, blue lipstick coated her lips, and her formerly floor-length ivory hair was chopped in a ragged bob, streaked with black and vivid blue. She was wearing fishnet stockings, a ripped white top, and a black leather miniskirt too short to be decent. But it was her. There was no mistaking the moonstruck madness in her sea-foam eyes.

She studied the room before dropping onto the throne, bracing her elbow on the armrest and propping her chin on her knuckles. She looked as casual as a teenager getting ready to settle in for an evening of mindless television. Only this “teenager” was the most powerful Faerie monarch in Northern California. She waved a hand, still casual, and said, “The Court of the Mists is now in session.”

That seemed to be all the fanfare we were going to get. Courtiers stepped forward and started reading from scrolls as they made proclamations, clarified prior judgments, and generally made a lot of noise about nothing. The Queen didn’t say a word. She just sat there, studying her black-enameled fingernails.

This went on for about an hour, long enough for Danny to find us, May to start sniping in a whisper about the Queen’s fashion sense, and me to start relaxing. The Queen looked up, almost as if she’d sensed my guard beginning to drop, and said, “Will Sir October Daye of the Kingdom of the Mists, Knight of Lost Words, daughter of Amandine of Faerie, oath-sworn to Duke Sylvester Torquill, please stand forth?”

She was using my full title, something that has never, in my experience, been a good sign. I schooled my face into a neutral expression as I stepped away from the pillar and walked through the silent crowd, finally stopping in front of the dais.

The Queen’s gaze stayed on me throughout my approach, her own expression cool and calculating. I dropped into a deep curtsy, holding the position until she said, “You may rise.”

I straightened, keeping my eyes focused on the floor. I never look at the Queen when I can help it. I have enough mortal blood in me to make her type of inhuman beauty dangerous.

“We have summoned you to discuss your recent actions.” Each word was cold and precise as cut crystal. “Raise your head, if you please.”

I winced, looking up. The sight of her face was just shy of physically painful. “My actions, Highness?”

“Yes, October.” She sat up and crossed her legs languidly. “Do you remember the last time you stood before me in this Court?”

That would be the time she’d thrown me out for daring to tell her that Evening was dead. Oh, yeah. I remembered. “Yes, Highness.”

“You returned the hope chest which had been in the keeping of the Lady Goldengreen before her . . . departure.” She pursed her lips. Most purebloods consider it a
faux pas
to admit that they can actually die. “You haven’t been to see me since then. I must wonder why.”

“I’ve been busy, Highness.”

“So you have. The Countess O’Leary tells me you spent some time in her lands, and brought the efforts of—” again the moue of disapproval “—a dissident to an end, preventing a possible war.”

“Yes, Highness,” I said. The Countess O’Leary in question was April, not January; that was one more murder the Queen wasn’t mentioning. I wasn’t sure where she was going with all of this, but it wasn’t helping my nerves.

“It pleases me to know your memory remains excellent,” she said dryly. A nervous giggle rose from the crowd, stopping when her gaze flicked in its direction. Looking back to me, she said, “I am informed you are the reason Blind Michael’s Hunt has vanished. Is this true?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“Excellent.” She leaned back in her throne. “There have been many requests for the custodianship of Goldengreen since the departure of the Countess Winterrose. Some of the petitioners were quite compelling in their arguments.”

I frowned, not sure I liked where this was going. “Highness?”

“The decision was complicated by the fact that the Countess left no heir, placing the burden of choosing a proper custodian on my shoulders.” Her smile was as triumphant as it was bitter. “By my power as Queen of the Mists, Regent of these Western Lands, I name you Countess of Goldengreen. Welcome to the peerage,
Lady
Daye.”

The Court erupted in excited whispers. I stared at her, too stunned to speak. Changelings don’t inherit titles, not even from their parents. What was she trying to pull?

The Queen uncrossed her legs and stood, still smiling. “This Court is closed. If any still have petitions, they will be heard next week.”

“Highness, wait—” I began.

“Good night, Lady Daye. Your mother must be
so
proud.” The smell of rowan filled the air as a thick mist rose around her. When it cleared again, she was gone.

Great. Just great.

The Court kept whispering as I walked back to May and Danny. More than a few hostile looks were shot in my direction. Just what I needed: more enemies. At least May and Danny didn’t look angry. Surprised and confused, yes, but not angry. I slumped against the pillar between them, putting a hand over my face. “Oberon’s hairy balls.”

“Damn,” said May.

“Yeah,” I said. “Damn.”

“I mean
damn
.”

“I think she gets the point, May,” said Danny. One huge hand settled gently on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“I have no idea,” I said, resisting the urge to break into hysterical laughter. It seemed like the only suitable response to the situation. “She set me up.”

“Can’t you get out of it?” demanded May.

“I don’t think so.”

“That sucks.”

I sighed. “Tell me about it.”

“October!” Tybalt came shoving through the crowd toward us. There was no amusement or false mockery in his voice now. His face was composed, but his pupils were narrowed to hairline slits that telegraphed his agitation. “A word, if I may.”

“Tybalt? What’s wrong?” I stepped forward before remembering the way he’d kissed me. Danny and May clearly hadn’t forgotten, because they moved to flank me, both watching him carefully. “I thought your little show was so people wouldn’t think we were willing to be seen together in public. Or did I miss something?”

“Things have changed. We have to talk.” He grabbed my wrist, starting to pull me toward him. “Come with me as quietly as you can. I don’t think you fully understand what’s just happened.”

I froze, looking at his hand. “You might want to let go of me now.”

“Toby, you don’t—”

“See, if you don’t, I’m going to feel compelled to try breaking your fingers.” My voice was calm, belying the fact that my heart was beating way too fast. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me, especially not after your little ‘ploy’ earlier.”

“Please.” He squeezed my wrist before releasing it. He didn’t step back. Neither did I. “You need to come with me. This is a trap. You have to trust—”

A commotion spread through the crowd to our left, distracting us both at practically the same time. Tybalt stepped forward, half-shielding me from whatever was coming. “What’s going on?” asked May, sounding more interested than concerned.

Danny and Tybalt exchanged a glance, briefly united by dismay. My Fetch got my memories, but she didn’t get the instinct for trouble to go with them, and I didn’t know how far her newly-demonstrated ability to sense danger extended. Tybalt moved again, this time putting himself between May and the commotion. I shot him a grateful look, which he answered with a nod.

“Any idea what this is?” asked Danny.

“Not yet, but I’m really wishing I wasn’t unarmed right now,” I muttered. I was giving serious thought to grabbing May and heading for the door when Marcia—the quarter-blood changeling who served as a handmaid in the Tea Gardens—shoved her way through, followed by a Tylwyth Teg man in conservative, incongruously modern clothes. He looked exhausted.

“Toby!” Marcia wailed, almost knocking Tybalt over as she lunged to grab my arm. Her eyes were wide and glassy within their rings of faerie ointment. A necessary cosmetic, at least for Marcia; her blood’s too thin to let her see most of Faerie without it.

“Marcia?” I put my hand over hers. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to come,” she babbled. “You have to come
right now
, please—”

“What is it? Calm down and tell me.”

She froze, eyes filling with tears, and whispered, “It’s Lily. She’s sick, Toby, she’s really sick, and we don’t know what to do.”

The world came to a sudden crashing halt. “Lily’s sick?”

Lily was Marcia’s liege, the Lady of the Tea Gardens—and an Undine. The Undine are biologically weird, even for Faerie, since their bodies are made entirely of water. Water doesn’t understand illness. It can get polluted, but it can’t get sick. Which meant that if Marcia was right, something was terribly wrong.

“She’s sick, really sick. She didn’t know who I was, so I . . . ” Her voice dropped until it was barely audible. “Please come.”

“Of course I’ll come.” I hesitated, looking at the crowd around us. Many were staring openly, and those that weren’t were probably listening in. Dropping my voice, I asked, “Tybalt? What’s the Queen going to do if there’s a sudden exodus out of here?”

His eyes narrowed as he caught my meaning. “Nothing we, or the Tea Gardens, would be likely to enjoy.”

“Right,” I said. Fae don’t have paparazzi, but my elevation to the peerage was the news of the hour. If I left now, my destination might draw an unhealthy amount of attention, and the Tea Gardens were an independent fiefdom. The last thing they needed was the full focus of the Queen. With Lily out of commission, they’d have no way to stop the “proper nobility” from taking over. We needed a distraction. I glanced around our little group.

May provided a distraction just by existing, and Tybalt was more than capable of causing a public disturbance if he was given the right motivation. I dropped my voice even lower. “Danny, can you get May home?” He nodded curtly. “Okay. When things calm down, I’m going to need you to do that. In the meantime, you’re going to make sure nobody thinks to follow us to the Tea Gardens. Marcia, how did you get here?”

Our conspiratorial little knot must have looked odd from the outside, but the Tylwyth Teg who’d accompanied Marcia seemed to be taking it in stride. He answered for her, holding up what looked like a stubby handmade broom as he said, “We took the yarrow broom express.”

“Does it seat three?”

“What?” said May and Danny, almost in unison. Tybalt didn’t say anything. He just nodded, understanding spreading across his features. He didn’t look like he approved, but at least he understood. That would have to be good enough, for now.

“I think so,” said the Tylwyth Teg, looking bemused. “This may not be the best time for an introduction, but it seems polite. I’m Walther Davies.”

“Toby Daye, hi,” I said, and turned to Tybalt. “Ready to make a scene?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really. To quote something someone said to me recently, in the interests of friendship, I hope you’ll forgive what I’m about to do.” I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face. The smack of flesh striking flesh echoed through the hall. Conversations stopped as people whipped around to stare at us. Raising my voice to something just below a shout, I snarled, “You asshole!”

Tybalt snarled back, almost quickly enough to conceal the amusement in his eyes. “I only offered the respect that you have earned,
Lady
Daye.”

May was quick to grab her cue. She rounded on Tybalt, interposing herself between us and jabbing a finger at his chest as she started yelling. I didn’t catch what she was saying; it was too difficult to make out the words under the muttering of the crowd and Danny’s shouts for them to cut it out and act like adults. I turned to Marcia and Walther.

“Let’s go.”

I started for the exit at a fast trot, with the two of them close behind. As I’d expected, the sight of a Fetch and the local King of Cats getting into it was fascinating enough that no one seemed to remember what actually started the scene. No one stopped us as we made our way out of the Queen’s knowe and into the chilly mortal night.