Late Eclipses

“Fine. This way.”

Shadowed Hills was living up to the “shadow” part of its name; the halls were dim, and most of the windows were covered. A heavy silence hung over the place, forming a shroud that didn’t want to be disturbed. It was like the knowe was in mourning. Goldengreen was like that after Evening died: bitter, cold, and empty.

I paused. Goldengreen was mine to use as I saw fit. It wasn’t a small knowe. Evening only used a percentage of its space, and she hadn’t been using the grounds on the Summerland side at all. Lily’s people needed a place to go, and thanks to the Queen, they just might have one.

None of the people we passed would meet my eyes; it seemed that Raysel’s opinion of me was more popular within the Duchy than I’d hoped. It made sense—no matter how many times I saved their asses, I was still the misfit changeling daughter of a crazy woman—but I won’t pretend I was happy about it.

Something was wrong with the rooms around us. I frowned, trying to figure out what it was. We passed through a hall whose floors were being polished; the windows were open to let air circulate, and I glanced up instinctively. The wrongness became suddenly clear, and suddenly terrifying. “Oh, oak and ash,” I breathed.

There were no roses around the windows. There were no roses anywhere.

Every Duchy has something that makes them unique. Golden Gate excels at political intrigue, Wild Strawberries produces amazing chefs, Dreamer’s Glass threatens to invade the neighbors, and so on. They’re proud of their distinctions, and they take every chance they get to show them off. Shadowed Hills grew roses, and now those roses were gone.

We stopped at a marble arch. “Wait here, and don’t wander off,” said Etienne.

“Check,” I said, leaning against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Etienne nodded and vanished through the arch. Quentin glowered after him. I put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Don’t. He knows me well enough to know that I’d go chasing shadows right now if I thought it would help, and that would just get us in more trouble.”

Quentin gave me a plaintive look. “He should trust you.”

“He does.” I nodded toward the nearest window. “When did all the roses die?”

“The night of the Ball,” Quentin said. Then he frowned. “How did you know the roses died?”

“This is the only time I’ve been in this knowe and not seen live flowers.” It felt like there was something I wasn’t seeing that would make everything make sense. Something about Luna and the roses …

Raysel stepped around the corner and froze. She was wearing a black dress, her hair in artful disarray; she looked every inch the grieving daughter, except for the part where she didn’t look sad. Angry, yes, and faintly smug, but not a drop of sorrow.

The three of us stared at one another for a frozen moment, no one quite sure what the appropriate reaction would be. “Hello, Rayseline,” I said, finally.

She frowned. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t sound angry; just irritated, like I’d been downgraded to “minor annoyance.” Interesting.

“Lily’s dead.”

“I’m aware.” She shot a murderous glare at Quentin. “I’m not sure what that has to do with your being here.”

I silently resolved to get Quentin out of there sooner than later. Having a man on the inside wasn’t worth the risk of having Raysel truly angry with him. “I’m just here to see your father.”

“Why should I let you anywhere near my parents?” She jerked her chin toward Quentin. “He can’t help you. He’s just a page here.”

“I know that. But I have news, and I need to speak with my liege.”

“You can give your news to me. My father will listen to you, even if your message comes from my lips.” The venom in her voice was unmistakable.

The words escaped before I could stop them. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. I won’t let you.”

“Raysel, I’m not pretending. I don’t—”

She cut me off, demanding, “Do you have any idea where I grew up?”

I stared at her, not sure how I was supposed to answer. Quentin’s expression was as blank as mine. “No, I don’t,” I said, lacking anything else to say.

“I grew up in nothing,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment she achieved a look I’d seen on her father’s face a hundred times: pure and righteous anger. “It was dark and cold, and it hurt to breathe, and it never ended. They threw us food, sometimes, and water, sometimes, but never enough, and I was always hungry. I almost forgot what light was until the day the binding fell away, and then I thought the sun had come to kill us, and I was glad.”

“Root and branch,” I breathed. “Raysel … ”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Do you know what my mother said to me every day—every hour—of my childhood? Do you?! ”

“No,” I said. Watching Raysel’s anger was like watching a train wreck. It was horrifying, but I couldn’t look away. Somehow, I couldn’t shake the small, terrible feeling that she was right; this was my fault.

“ ‘Your father’s coming,’ ” she said, in mocking parody of Luna’s measured tones. “ ‘He’ll save us. He won’t let us die here.’ ” She shook her head, voice returning to normal. “But he didn’t come. So she told me about his allies. She told me everything.”

I winced. It was obvious I’d been included in those “allies.” I was starting to understand why she hated me, and I didn’t want to.

Raysel ignored my distress, continuing, “‘Evening will find us, and your father will raise an army, and Toby—’ ” She faltered, looking confused and a little lost. That was the first time I saw her truly unguarded. “Toby will come. That’s what she does. When we need her, she comes.”

“Raysel … ”

She glared. The moment was over. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see my mother go crazy calling for my father, calling for you. She never lost faith in either of you. She believed in you. And you never came. So you can make all the excuses you want, and Father will believe them, because he wants to. He wants to think you’re perfect, but you’re not. You’re just a stupid changeling, and you have no business here.”

“I tried to find you.” The words sounded feeble. I’m supposed to be a hero. So why didn’t I save them?

“You failed,” she said. “You died for us, but you didn’t have the decency to stay dead. You wonder why I hate you? Because you came back. You abandoned us, and then you came back and took everything away from me! My husband, my parents, everyone in this Duchy wishes I were you. What did I do to deserve that?”

She was right. Her father didn’t know her, and her mother didn’t understand her, but they knew me. They loved me. “It isn’t my fault.”

“Do you think I care? Besides, it doesn’t matter now. You won’t be my problem much longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think I believe you poisoned my mother?” She giggled. “You’re the family dog. You couldn’t hurt her if you wanted to. That doesn’t matter, because when she dies, my finger points to you. The Duchy has its justice, and I have my peace.”

“You’ll never convince the Queen,” said Quentin.

She smiled sweetly. “I think you’ll be surprised, little boy. You’re a foster here, and your word will never stack up against mine. You have no power, no authority, and no reason to be trusted.”

“You’ll let the real killer go?” I asked, aghast. I understood revenge, but this wasn’t revenge. This was insanity.

“Oh, no. We’ll realize our mistake once you’re dead, and whoever did this will be caught and punished.” Her smile was thin and triumphant. “All’s well that ends well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fetch something.” She turned and stalked away, clearly intent on having the last word.

Quentin started to go after her. I grabbed his sleeve, holding him back. “No, Quentin. She’s not worth it.”

“But she—”

“Can you prove it?”