Chimes at Midnight

THREE

TYBALT TAKING THE SHADOW ROADS to the Queen’s Court turned out to be a good thing. He was uncomfortable in the car under the best of circumstances. He would probably have exploded if he’d tried to ride with three people behind him in the backseat, all of them crammed together and complaining. As it was, May and Jazz were able to sit together in comfort, while Quentin rode up front with me, by right of “I’m the squire and besides, you want to ride with your girlfriend.”

“You don’t have to come, you know.” I turned into the parking lot nearest the Queen’s knowe. “You can still back out. Go and see a movie or something, and I’ll fill you in when we’re done.”

“What, and miss all the fun?” May shook her head. “No way. I love bothering the Queen almost as much as I love Saturday morning cartoons.”

“If you say so.” I eyed them in the rearview mirror. “She’ll definitely be bothered.”

Jazz was wearing a purple sari with a feather pattern around the edges that matched the feathered band in her hair. As a skinshifter, her fae nature was bound into that knotted band. May, on the other hand, was wearing a bright pink dress, accessorized with bright green heels and jelly bracelets. It was like playing chauffeur for Jem and the Holograms, only without the convenient excuse of it being the 1980s.

“Why did you get dressed up?” Quentin asked. “Won’t the Queen transform your clothes as soon as you get inside?” He was wearing jeans and a nice button-down shirt, since he wasn’t the one the Queen actively disliked. He was also maintaining a don’t-look-here over the entire car, sparing us from needing individual human disguises. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without a squire.

“Ah, but we’re entering separately,” said May. “We may be spared her merciless fashion sense, in which case, I get to horrify courtiers with my taste in prom gowns.”

“Jazz’s dress is actually nice,” I protested.

Jazz smiled. “I’m good either way.”

“Too late for me to argue now. We’re here.” I pulled into an open space between an old VW van and a shiny new Prius too nice for the neighborhood and thus almost certainly protected by a stack of anti-theft charms. If the owner was smart, mortals couldn’t even see the car. Anti-theft charms don’t do anything to stop people from throwing a brick through your rear window when they get frustrated by their inability to touch the car.

My own VW bug was protected by anti-theft, anti-detection, and anti-bird-crap charms. You’d never have known to look at it, but my car had been basically totaled three months ago when an Afanc—a big beaver-looking monster from the deeper realms of Faerie—decided to take a nap on the roof. Thankfully, my friend Danny has a really good Gremlin mechanic, and my liege was footing the bill. After the repairs were finished, I was pretty sure my car was functionally indestructible. That would be a nice change, considering the fates my vehicles normally suffered.

“It’ll be fine,” said May.

“Tell me that in an hour,” I countered. I left my jacket on the front seat as I got out of the car. There was no point in tempting the Queen to turn it into a bolero or something.

We walked across the pavement to the sand and started down the beach in a ragged line. I didn’t realize Tybalt was beside me until he took my arm. I jumped, turning to face him. He smiled.

“Good evening, little fish.”

“You know, if you were anyone else, you’d have gotten decked just now,” I said. But I didn’t jerk my arm away.

“That is one of the many reasons I am thankful, each and every day, not to be anyone but myself.” Tybalt considered my ballet-style bun for a moment before he nodded. “It’s simple, but should avoid the Queen’s ire.”

“So glad you approve,” I said dryly.

“I just don’t want this to be harder than it has to be,” he said, sounding briefly quieter, more like the Tybalt I saw when I was alone than the hard, brilliant King of Cats. He turned to May and Jazz while I was mulling over the difference, and said, “You both look lovely tonight, but I believe this is where we part company. May I assume I’ll be seeing you inside?”

“Unless there’s a velvet rope now,” said May. “You crazy kids stay out of trouble, or at least wait until we get there to start it!”

“We’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.” I took Quentin’s hand in my free one. Tybalt led us forward, into the deepest shadows on the beach. Then we stepped through the wall of the world into darkness, and everything was cold, cold, and there was no air, but Quentin’s hand was warm in mine, and Tybalt’s body was warm beside me, and we were moving forward . . .

. . . into the sound and light of the Queen’s ballroom, where more than a few courtiers turned to look at us, some in surprise, some in more assessing disdain. I pulled my arm away from Tybalt, dropped Quentin’s hand, and looked down at myself. Then I sighed.

“You know, since the dress I was wearing was her work, I thought she might leave it alone. Silly, optimistic me.” My red silk gown was gone, replaced by an equally simple, equally floor-length gown. This one was gray silk, so pale it looked almost white when it wasn’t right against my skin. A complicated braid of red ribbons circled my waist. Even my hair had been restyled, my simple bun replaced by a waterfall of layers held separate by a thin net of ribbons. That was going to be hell to take out.

I pulled up the skirt to check my shoes, and blinked as I realized that they were still sneakers: all she’d changed were the laces, which were now red ribbons that matched my semi-belt. My ankle sheath was still in place, undisturbed by the Queen’s annoying obsession with changing my clothes. I let go of my skirt. “She left my shoes alone,” I said. “That’s weird.”

“At least she got us all?” offered Quentin, who looked annoyingly comfortable in his tunic and trousers.

I glanced toward Tybalt, and whatever I’d been about to say fled my mind, leaving me feeling more oxygen-deprived than our brief passage through the shadows justified. “Uh . . .”

He was wearing brown leather trousers, a darker brown leather vest, and a silk shirt that matched my dress. The sleeves were almost piratical in style, and the collar was unlaced. His boots were the same shade as his vest, a few shades lighter than his hair.

“Uh,” I said again, before managing, “Weren’t you wearing that the last time you came to Court?”

“She always dresses me in some variation of this attire,” said Tybalt. “I can’t tell whether she likes the look of it, or whether she’s trying to make a point. This would have been a stagehand’s garb, once upon a time, and nothing suited for a King.”

“Uh,” I said, for a third time.

Seeing my distress, Tybalt smirked, leaned in, and murmured in my ear, “I have a disturbing assortment of leather trousers, thanks to her. I’d be happy to show you, if you like.”

I could feel my ears turning red. But with embarrassment came annoyance, and annoyance and I are very old friends. I shook my head as I straightened and stepped away. “Let’s go see about talking to the Queen.”

It felt like every eye was on me as I led Tybalt and Quentin into the crowd. My sneakers made soft squeaking noises on the marble. A commotion near the main doors told me that Jazz and May had made it inside, but I couldn’t see them through the crowd. No matter; they’d find us soon enough. They always did, when it was important.

The ballroom was a study in white that seemed carved from a single piece of ivory. The only difference between the floor and ceiling was where you were standing. Both were polished until they verged on becoming mirrors. Cobweb ribbons of white spider-silk were wrapped around the filigreed pillars, eddying and dancing at the slightest breeze. It was like walking through a forest of ghostly tentacles, and it felt like it could turn hostile at any moment—if it wasn’t hostile already.

We walked until we reached a dais, as white as the rest of the room, but set in the center of a wide clear space. No one kept it clear; people avoided it of their own accord, unless they’d come to speak with the Queen. I looked around at the crowd, and realized how few people I’d ever seen come to seek her counsel. They’d come to her Court. They’d do the political dance. But they never talked to her, or encouraged her to talk to them. I knew I wasn’t the only one who had problems with the Queen. I was starting to wonder how many people didn’t.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when the air grew cold with the scent of rowan, and mist clouded the air above the throne. People stopped talking, turning toward the dais like flowers turning toward the sun. I stayed where I was, keeping my chin high, and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. The smell of rowan intensified, then shattered, and the mist parted to show the Queen seated on her throne, as comfortable as if she’d been there for hours.

If anyone looked like they’d been modeled on the idea of the perfect Faerie Queen, it was her. She’d grown her hair out again, and it fell in a ribbon of white silk to puddle at her feet, impossibly long, especially since she’d bobbed it less than two years before. Her dress was blue velvet, shading from deep-sea blue at the hem to whitecap gray at the neckline. She was beautiful, as long as you didn’t meet her eyes, which were the moon-mad color of the foam on a stormy sea. That shouldn’t have been a color, but it was. Faerie is nothing if not creative.

My breath caught. Her beauty was not the kind that human hearts—or part-human hearts—were ever intended to deal with. As I breathed in, I tasted the strange cocktail of her heritage on the air. Siren, Sea Wight, and Banshee. How she teleported in and out of the ballroom was anybody’s guess. It’s possible to borrow the magic of others through their blood. There was probably a Tuatha de Dannan on her staff who was willing to bleed for her.

She frowned before looking down her nose at me, one perfect eyebrow raised in what looked like surprise. “Sir Daye,” she said. There was nothing warm or welcoming in that voice. “I did not expect to see you here again.”

Since my visits to the Queen’s Court always seemed to end with things going horribly wrong, I shared the sentiment. Still, I wasn’t foolish enough to say that aloud. I gripped the sides of my transformed skirt and sank into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

She let me hold that position long enough that my thighs began to ache before she said, sounding almost bored, “You may rise.”

I did, forcing myself to lift my head until I was looking at her face. Her beautiful, terrible face. “I came to petition for an audience.”

“Did you?” Her gaze flicked first to Quentin, then to Tybalt. “In the company of your loyal hounds, even. Well. How can I deny such a thoughtful petition? You have your audience. What petty trouble have you brought to lay before my feet tonight?”

I had wanted to do this in private if possible. I should have known the Queen wouldn’t allow it. She never had before, after all. “Your Majesty, as I am sure you’re aware, there has been an increasing amount of goblin fruit in the city of late. It’s appearing everywhere. The dealers—”

“Wait.” She raised a hand, cutting me off. “Have you truly come to ask about the goblin fruit? October, really. I’m disappointed in you. I knew your upbringing left much to be desired, but this seems a new low, even for your bloodline.”

“What?” I blinked at her, my train of thought utterly lost. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t grant you a license to peddle the fruit, October. I’m ashamed for you, that you would even ask.”

It felt like the floor was dropping out from under my feet. “I didn’t come to ask for a license to sell the stuff,” I said slowly. “I came to ask you to help me stop people from selling it at all. It’s dangerous. Changelings—”

“Should know better than to imbibe. Those who do not would clearly have become a danger to Faerie, given the time; better they float away like Ophelia, each to their own private river, and drown in peace, rather than continuing such terribly troubled lives.” A thin smile touched the edges of her lips. “I am doing this Kingdom a service.”

“You . . . you’re the source of the goblin fruit?”

“I am not the source, but I am the channel. Those who had need to know—those whose minds were not closed to the possibilities, whose halls were not choked with mongrels—” Her gaze flicked to Tybalt. “—they knew where to come. Perhaps you should question the worth of your allies if not one of them could tell you that.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I just stared at her, trying to wrap my head around the enormity of what she was saying. She was the reason the goblin fruit was showing up on the streets. She was the one allowing it. “But, Your Majesty—”

“This is a difficult time for the pureblood community. The mortal world encroaches at every side, and we need what escapes we can find. Surely you, with your insistence on diving into every trial and trouble, must recognize that, sometimes, dreams are better.”

“Changelings are dying!” I clapped my hands over my mouth and closed my eyes, the echoes of my shout still ringing through the hall. Conversation around me stopped dead, leaving the rustle of fabric and the pounding of my heart the loudest sounds in the world. Fearfully, I cracked one eye open and looked to the Queen.

She was smiling. Somehow, that was worse than her anger could possibly have been. “Oh, October. Silly little October. Whatever made you think that a few changelings would matter to me? We can always make more.”

I lowered my hands, opening both eyes as I struggled to gather the shreds of my composure. “Goblin fruit is bad for Faerie.” If she was going to let my outburst go unpunished, I was going to try to reason with her. “It kills changelings. Your subjects. It makes even purebloods careless. Our secrecy is too precarious right now. I urge you to reconsider your position, and ban the stuff from the Mists.”

“Mmm,” she said, thoughtfully. Then, sounding almost bored: “No.”

“Your Majesty, please. I beg you—”

“You urge. You beg. You raise your voice to me.” Her tone turned suddenly icy as she rose, eyes narrowed, and spat, “I am Queen. My word is law. Not yours, not your allies, mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered. Her anger was terrifying, and not just because of the notes of Banshee fury that I could hear wrapping themselves around the words.

But she wasn’t done. “I have tolerated your disrespect time and again. I have tolerated the disrespect of your so-called ‘friends.’ I am done, Sir Daye. I am done listening to your mewling protests, your demands for ‘equality,’ your cries for justice you have not earned. You have three days to put your affairs in order. At the end of that time, I will expect you to be outside my demesne.” Her eyes were cold. “Flee to your liege, if you like; so long as you remain confined within his Duchy, I will not challenge you. I respect his rights as your regent that far. No further. Should you set foot outside the bounds of Shadowed Hills but within the Mists after that time has passed, I will see you brought before my Court on charge of treason. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

I stared at her in horror, trying to absorb what I was hearing. Yes, I had been disrespectful, but I had also saved her Kingdom over and over again. At some point, that should have earned me a little leeway. Instead, it had earned me a faster path to exile.

“That isn’t fair,” protested Quentin. “She never disobeyed you.”

“It is my Kingdom, little fosterling, and I shall ban whomsoever I like from its shores. Watch that I don’t ban you alongside her.” She turned toward Tybalt. “And you? Are you going to argue for her?”

Please don’t, I thought, wishing desperately that he could hear me. Please, please don’t.

“No,” said Tybalt.

“Good. Uncharacteristically wise.” The Queen’s eyes swung back to me. “Have you any other questions, Sir Daye?”

“No, Your Majesty.” I dug my nails into my palms until it felt like they would break the skin. “May I be excused? I have a great deal of packing to do.”

She settled back into her throne. “Yes, you may. You and all your merry little band of sycophants.”

I curtsied again, not trusting my voice. Then I turned and plunged into the crowd, not pausing to see whether Tybalt and Quentin were behind me. I knew they would be, just like I knew that May and Jazz would already be moving toward the exit. We all got there about the same time, moving through the clumps of whispering and pointing people, some of whom weren’t bothering to be subtle about it. My eyes were burning. I resisted the urge to wipe them. I’d be damned before I let the Queen see me cry.

Tybalt caught my wrist before I could charge out into the cave that connected the Queen’s knowe to the mortal world. “Let me see you out,” he murmured. “Please. I wouldn’t put it past her to play some final prank if we were to use her front door.”

I looked at him, the threatened tears finally beginning to fall, and nodded.

“We shall see you outside,” he said to the others, Quentin included. Then he pulled me into the thin shadow cast by a pillar, and out of the world entirely.

The cold wasn’t as bad this time, maybe because Tybalt didn’t have to focus on pulling two of us through the darkness. He was able to keep me closer to him. My tears froze against my eyelashes. I let them. This wasn’t the time for crying. This was the time for getting pissed.

We emerged into the parking lot after what felt like a dozen steps. Tybalt held on only long enough to be sure that I had my feet under me. Then he let go and took a step backward, giving me my space. I loved him even more in that moment. I’m not sure I could have let him go, if our roles had been reversed.

“October—”

“Not here.” I shook my head, scraping away my frozen tears with the heel of my hand before grabbing a handful of night air and spinning it into a thin human disguise that wouldn’t stand up to any real scrutiny, but would at least keep me from being immediately fingered as inhuman. I was still wearing the gray silk gown the Queen had dressed me in. It matched my mood nicely, although I really wanted a pair of jeans. “We’re going to get the others, and we’re going to go home, and then we’ll talk about this.”

“Speaking of the others . . .” Tybalt draped himself in his own human disguise as he looked past me to the beach. I turned to see May, Jazz, and Quentin running across the sand. I finally realized that May and Jazz were still in the dresses they’d been wearing when we arrived. Apparently, the Queen really did have it in for my wardrobe.

And for me. She’d banished me from the Mists. The idea was too big to wrap my head around. Exile was a threat she’d always held in reserve. It was riskier than either imprisonment or execution, because it was the one punishment that left me free to look for new allies. It potentially endangered her safety almost as much as it hurt me. It was just the only thing that didn’t require real charges; “I don’t like your face” was good enough. I never thought she’d do it . . . and she had. I just wasn’t sure why goblin fruit was the tipping point.

“Toby! Are you okay?” May nearly tripped over her own shoes as she made the transition from sand to pavement. Jazz caught her, both of them looking at me anxiously.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I was crying. I dug the heel of my hand into my eye again, trying to make the tears stop. “We need to get out of here before she comes after you guys, too.”

“Jazz and I will call Danny to come and drive us home.”

I dropped my hand, blinking at May. “I . . . what?”

“You need to go see the Luidaeg.” May shook her head. “Take Quentin with you if you want, or send him home with us. But if anyone will know a way to make this go away, it’s her.”

“I appreciate that you did not even pretend I was going to let her go off without some form of backup,” said Tybalt dryly.

“I may be a composite of multiple dead people, but I’m not stupid,” said May. She kept her eyes on me. “Go see the Luidaeg. Ask her what you should do from here. Because I really don’t have any answers.”

Jazz, who had been silent up until then, said, “And if her answer is ‘there’s nothing to be done,’ come home and tell us. Because we’re going to need those three days to start telling all the changelings in this Kingdom that it’s time to find another place to live.”

My exile meant the goblin fruit trade wasn’t going to stop. Any changelings who didn’t leave the Kingdom would be at risk. I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of it all. If there was a way that I could beat this, I didn’t see it. Unless the Luidaeg had some kind of magical solution for me . . .

I didn’t see any options at all.