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
“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,
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
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
“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
