“Such gratitude.” She started climbing again. There was a soft popping sound as we reached the top of the bridge, and we were standing at a crossroads with four small cobblestone paths stretching out across a checkerboard expanse of marsh. Only the paths provided a clear route to solid ground. We were in Lily’s knowe.
“Cute,” May grumbled, starting down the nearest path. We were halfway to land when she slipped.
Riding piggyback doesn’t give you much in the way of the ability to catch yourself, and with her arms around my legs, May couldn’t catch us. We barely had time to shriek—in perfect unison—before we hit the water. It was lukewarm, like fresh blood.
The thought was enough to make me shove away from May and start thrashing, and the fact that I was in the water at all was enough to make me keep thrashing. I spent fourteen years living with Lily. Neither of us planned it that way; a man named Simon Torquill decided I’d make a lovely koi and had the magic to test the theory. He transformed me and left me in one of the ponds that riddle the Tea Gardens. I haven’t been real big on water since that happened. I don’t even take baths anymore, just showers. Put me in water and I tend to panic a little.
Okay, more than a little. I kept thrashing, struggling to find the surface. Most koi ponds are shallow, but Lily’s ponds aren’t exactly what you’d call standard. I don’t remember what they were like when I lived there, but I’ve never found the bottom while I was in my original shape, and I’m not going looking. I tried to scream, and water filled my mouth, choking me.
Hands grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me out of the water, dropping me on something solid before hitting me on the back. I started coughing. Air. There was air in the world. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at Connor.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault. May dropped you.” He glared back over his shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to!” May was a few feet away, wringing water out of her hair.
“It’s okay, Connor. I’m okay,” I said, sitting up and looking around. “She didn’t mean to drop me. Where’s Lily?”
“The pavilion,” said Connor, almost smiling.
“Which would be where?”
“Try looking behind you,” said May.
I looked over my shoulder. The pavilion was there, just like last time. Lily was seated at the table, mixing herbs in a small mortar. Spike was off to one side, watching and occasionally reaching out to bat at the pestle. She didn’t seem bothered by the rose goblin’s antics; she ignored it, placidly continuing to work. And Karen was lying on the cushions behind the table, just where I’d left her.
It took a moment for that to process. When it did, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the pavilion, only to fall again as my knees buckled beneath me. “Maeve’s
“Oh, crying for me now, are you?” She looked up, expression unreadable. “What would you ask from me?”
“Lily, you—I—I need to get to Karen! I need to see that she’s okay.”
“Do you?” She rose, walking down the pavilion steps with a fluidity even Tybalt could only envy. “It seems to me that what you need is to hold still for a time.”
“Lily …” May and Connor were both standing, but they weren’t moving. Turning toward Lily, I said, pleadingly, “Lily, please.”
“If I truly loved you, I would refuse,” she said, smiling sadly as she came to kneel on the moss in front of me, the mortar still in her hand. “I’d say ‘no, you’ve had enough gifts of me,’ and I’d let you heal at your own pace, just this once. Perhaps then your charming twin would leave us in peace, and while you might hate me for a while, you would be here to do it.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” said May. She sounded sorry.
“I know that as well as you do. I’ve known more of your breed than you’d believe,” chided Lily, pulling a chunk of moss off the ground and pressing it into her mortar. “Once you arrive, events must play to their logical conclusions. I hope you don’t mind my hating you.”
“It’s okay,” said May, coming to sit beside us. “It comes with the territory.”
“Yes. It does. October?”
“Yes?”
“Connor is behind you. What is he doing?”
She sounded curious enough that I turned. Connor was watching me bleakly; he looked like he was losing his best friend. “He’s not doing anything, Lily. Why did you—”
Her fists slammed into my knee. I screamed, whipping around to face her. She was empty-handed, looking at me innocently. I started to shout, and stopped as I realized that the pain was gone. I settled for glaring. “That
“Such things often do.” She stood, leaving the moss on my leg as she walked back into the pavilion. “Come now, all of you. I am sure you have places to go and deaths to face.”
I stood and followed her into the pavilion, letting her makeshift poultice lie where it fell. There was a flash of light as I climbed the steps, and the smell of hibiscus tea filled the air. I staggered, catching myself on the wall, and realized I was clean, dry, and wearing a purple robe embroidered with red heraldic roses. My hair was braided smoothly back.
And I was physically back to the correct age.
“What the—?” I looked up. At least I wasn’t the only one confused; May and Connor were staring at me, mouths hanging open.
Lily inclined her head, looking satisfied. “As I thought. This suits you far better, given the circumstances.” She knelt, pouring tea into a set of black-and-white patterned cups. “See to the girl; I know you too well to think you’ll listen before you know she lives.”
“Karen!” Suddenly reminded, I rushed over to drop to my knees and press my ear to Karen’s chest. I didn’t really stop holding my breath until I heard the steady, muffled beating of her heart. She had a heartbeat. She was alive. “She’s alive.” I sat up, turning toward the others, and beamed. “She’s alive.”
“I told you that,” said Lily, chidingly. “She’s alive and whole, and there is nothing I can do for her. Now come, all three of you, and drink your tea.”
“Lily—”
“Come. Sit. Don’t argue with me.”
What were we supposed to do? We sat. I knelt across from Lily, with May to my left and Connor to my right. He squeezed my knee under the table; I smiled at him. Lily simply watched us, passing the teacups around the table.
May was the first to receive her cup. She picked it up, sipped, and smiled. “Hey, peppermint.”
Connor picked up his own cup, and blinked at her. “This isn’t peppermint. It’s rosehips and watercress.”
“As you say,” said Lily, sipping her own tea.
Right. I picked up my cup and took a cautious sip. The liquid hit my tongue, and I choked, flinging my cup away. It shattered against the pavilion floor as I turned to spit out what was already in my mouth. “Blood?” I looked back to Lily, furious. “You served me
“No, I didn’t. You served it to yourself, just as May served herself peppermint and Connor served himself rosehips. The difference is what you made of it. Much like your lives, I’d imagine. And now you’ve broken another of my teacups.” She sighed. “Really, October, what am I going to do with you?”
“Is there a reason you people are so damn obscure?” I demanded, standing. The taste of blood makes me cranky under any circumstances. I’d managed to spit out most of it, but I was still getting flickering glimpses of Lily’s life, like shadows cast on a distant wall. I didn’t want them. “Screw this. Karen and I are leaving.”
“Are you, now? She’s rather larger than you can easily manage on your own.”
“Connor will help.” I glanced back toward him. He hadn’t moved; he was just watching us with a befuddled look on his face. “Won’t you?”
