Late Eclipses

they’d left the kids at home. Tybalt wasn’t far from them. He looked absolutely livid. His eyes narrowed as we entered the room, gaze swinging around to focus on the center of Dugan’s don’t-look-here. He might not see us perfectly, but he knew where we were.

Dugan planted his hands on my shoulders, shoving me forward and ripping away the don’t-look-here at the same time. A gasp ran through the crowd. I could understand the reasons: I was wet, muddy, and bloodstained. Not the sort of thing one normally sees at Court, even at a murder trial.

Stacy clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Even Tybalt was staring at me—Tybalt, who’s seen me in much worse shape. I met his eyes, bewildered. He mouthed a single word: “When?”

I winced, two hot tears escaping as realization hit me. Everyone who knew me knew that I was a half-blood. The changes Amandine made to save me were too strange to be natural, and unnatural enough to be scary. They sure as hell scared me, and I’d had the time to start getting used to them.

The guards nudged me into the open space in front of the Queen’s empty throne. Dugan pointed to the floor. “Kneel.”

I looked at him. I looked at the room. I made my choice. “No.”

“Kneel. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.” He was starting to look uneasy. I guess he expected a less mixed crowd when he brought me to “justice.”

Looking at his handsome, weasely face, all I felt was tired. “I won’t kneel for you.” My tone was light, even reasonable, if you ignored who I was talking to.

“In that case, you can kneel for me,” said the Queen.

I looked up.

She was seated on her throne, regal and calm, like she’d been there for hours. She smiled as our eyes met, expression filled with hot satisfaction. Her appearance had changed again, moving from “punk” to “perfection.” Her black-and-white hair was styled in an elegant bob and crowned with a circlet of braided platinum; her fishnets and miniskirt were gone, replaced by a gown made of silver mist. She looked like the pinnacle of glamour, while I looked like something just shy of a natural disaster. I doubted that was an accident, either.

“Your Highness.” I inclined my head. “Good to see you again.”

“Is that so?” She pursed her lips. “My man told you to kneel, Countess Daye. Now kneel.”

The power of the Queen’s Banshee blood made the command impossible to resist. I hit the marble on my knees before I could even try to resist. The compulsion kept pushing until I bowed my head, supplicating myself before her.

“That’s better,” she murmured. Raising her voice, she said, “We are gathered to witness the trial and sentencing of October Daye, regarding the deaths of Katai Suiyou of the Tea Gardens and Blind Michael, Firstborn son of Oberon and Maeve. She is also charged with the poisoning of Duchess Luna Torquill of Shadowed Hills, with the understanding this crime will only bear sentence of death if the injured dies. October Daye, how do you plead?”

“Wait—that was really her name?” I lifted my head, electrified. I’d only heard Lily’s real name once before … and now I knew, beyond all question, that I couldn’t have been talking to myself. “Highness, you’re making a mistake. Oleander told me—”

The Queen smiled. That was all: just smiled. “How do you plead?” she repeated.

“You’re not listening to me, and that’s not a fair question.” Putting Blind Michael on the list forced me to plead guilty. Not to everything—but pleading guilty to anything could condemn me.

“That isn’t what I asked,” she said. “How do you plead?”

“Innocent! Highness, you have to listen to me. Oleander—”

“How can you be innocent when you admit to killing Blind Michael?” One of the guards stepped onto the dais, handing her my belt. She held it up, displaying the scabbards holding my knives to the assemblage. “Tell me, I beg.”

“Blind Michael’s death was self-defense,” I objected. “Ask the parents of the children he stole whether he deserved to die.”

“Airs and arrogance aside, you remain a changeling. Your blood is impure. You don’t decide who lives or dies.” She dropped my scabbard. It landed with a clatter. “That’s a job for your betters, not for you.”

“I didn’t hurt Lily or Luna. Ask the subjects of the Tea Gardens. Ask Sylvester Torquill, or any of his knights! This isn’t fair. This isn’t—”

She cut me off again. “We have testimony telling us that you’ve taken advantage of his affection for you, convincing him of your innocence.”

I froze. “Testimony? Whose?”

“Mine.” Raysel stepped from behind the throne, smiling. “I’ve seen you talk my father in circles. He could watch you pour the poison and still call you innocent.”

“One voice isn’t enough to convict,” said the Queen. “Is there another?”

There was a pause almost long enough to let me breathe before Manuel stepped out to join Raysel. “Her lies killed my baby sister. She’s the one who poisoned the Duchess.” The hitch in his voice was slight, but it was there.

I closed my eyes. Manuel was willing to lie in front of the Queen? I knew he hated me. I’d just never realized how far he was willing to let his hatred take him.

If Manuel was willing to lie, the Queen was willing to let him. “Two accuse you, and you’ve already lied in your own defense. None will stand for you.”

In a voice loud enough to rebound off the walls, Tybalt demanded, “How dare you?” I opened my eyes, turning as far as the Queen’s command allowed to see Tybalt striding forward. His shoulders were locked, showing how much effort he was putting into staying even that calm. “Call for her defense! Don’t assume we won’t appear!”

Seeing him made me realize that neither Dugan nor the Queen had mentioned the deaths at the Cat’s Court. I was willing to bet she didn’t even know. Tybalt’s people lived in her Kingdom, and she was so busy trying to entrap me that she didn’t even realize they were dying.

The Queen snapped her fingers, jerking my attention back to her. “You overreach yourself, King of Cats,” she said, voice gone honey-sweet. “You have no right to stand defense of her. Or have you forgotten the arrangement made when your people chose to claim a Court outside Oberon’s own?”

There was a dangerous pause before he said, much more smoothly, “You misunderstand me. There are debts between us. I owe her.”

“So be grateful I do not intend to claim them as my own upon her death.”

“You can’t—”

“Do not presume to dictate my Kingdom as you do yours.” Her tone was still sweet, but it carried a barely veiled warning. Tybalt’s footsteps stopped. “Go, now. This trial is none of your concern.”

There was another long pause before Tybalt said, “My promises stand. All of them.” There was a soft inrush of air, accompanied by the pennyroyal and musk signature of his magic. Claws clicked on the marble, and he was gone.

“Does anyone else wish to speak out of turn?” asked the Queen.

Hesitantly, Stacy called, “Your Highness, might we … ?”

“Say your piece,” said the Queen. “This is meant to be a fair trial.”

I barely kept from laughing. My exhaustion helped. The iron manacles binding my wrists helped even more.

“Your Highness, October has always been a good and valiant friend. If she says she’s trying to solve these murders, I believe her.” Stacy sounded frightened but sincere. I didn’t try fighting the Queen’s compulsion this time. I didn’t want to see Stacy’s face.

“Be that as it may, your friend is a changeling. I hardly need remind you how many changelings have changed as their blood drove them mad. Alas, madness is known to run in her bloodline.” The Queen paused as a murmur ran through the Court. “We can’t assume that who this woman was has any bearing on who—on what—she has become.”

“That’s not fair!” cried Stacy, startled into forgetting protocol. “How can you ignore her services to this Kingdom? She saved my children! How can you not care?”