Seanan McGuire - Chimes at Midnight

The walls were softened with tapestries showing scenes from both Undersea and San Francisco fae history. The one nearest where I stood showed Lily, the Lady of the Tea Gardens, preparing a tea service for my mother. I put a hand over my mouth as I looked at it.

Lily was the last of Oleander’s victims. I miss her every day.

“Toby? What are you wearing ?”

We all turned toward the voice. Marcia, the Seneschal of Goldengreen—my only formal appointment as Countess, and one Dean had been more than willing to retain—was standing in the nearest doorway, a dishtowel in her hands, staring at us. She had fae ointment smeared around her eyes, allowing her to see through illusions. It was necessary; without the stuff, she wouldn’t be able to see half of Faerie, including the pixies that plagued her on a daily basis.

I lowered my hand, forcing a smile. “Hey, Marcia. I just came from the Queen. Is the Count in? I need to ask him for a favor.”

“Toby!” She slung the dishtowel over her shoulder as she ran over and hugged me hard. Then she hugged Quentin in much the same way. Tybalt didn’t get a hug, but he did get a smile and a small curtsy. Only when that was finished did she say, “The Count’s in. He’ll be thrilled to see you. I think he’s pretty much bored out of his skull, but he’s being too noble and stupid to say anything.”

I laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Marcia. Let’s go save the bored.”

“Your noblest endeavor yet,” said Marcia, gesturing for us to follow her to the central courtyard.

Goldengreen’s courtyard was probably intended to host genteel entertainments and noble proclamations. It had been somewhat repurposed by its current inhabitants, who had converted it into a tiered garden, complete with trees, flowers, and beds of moss. Tree frogs chirped from somewhere high overhead as we entered. I looked up into the branches. No frogs, although I did see a bogey scurrying through the canopy, currently shaped like a spider the size of a terrier.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said, looking down again. “I mean, we planted, but you’ve grown .”

Dean Lorden, Count of Goldengreen, blinked as he raised his head from the book he’d been reading. Then he grinned, standing. “Sir Daye! I didn’t know you were going to visit today!” His attention switched to my squire. “Quentin. You’re looking well.”

“You, too,” said Quentin.

He was right: Dean was looking well. Life on land agreed with him. As the son of a Merrow and a Daoine Sidhe, Dean was born with a fifty-fifty chance of taking after his mother. Unfortunately for him, he lost that coin toss, although it could have been worse: he could have been a merman who couldn’t breathe water. Instead, he was basically a normal Daoine Sidhe whose mother happened to be the Duchess of the largest local Undersea demesne. Dean had spent the first eighteen years of his life in the ocean, until he was kidnapped as part of a ploy to start a war between the land and sea. The war didn’t happen; Dean and his brother, Peter, didn’t die; and when it was over, Dean didn’t go back to Saltmist. Not to stay, anyway. He was the Count of Goldengreen now, and that meant he finally got the chance to start living on the land.

Dean had his father’s hair, bronze with a light sheen of greenish verdigris, and his mother’s eyes, the blue-black color of deep water. His skin had acquired some color since he claimed Goldengreen; while he was still pale, he no longer looked like a ghost. He was wearing jeans and a gray pirate shirt which would have looked silly if he hadn’t been so clearly comfortable. His feet were bare, exposing slightly webbed toes.

“I didn’t know we were going to visit today either,” I admitted. “But I’ve just been to see the Queen, and now I need your help.”

“Anything,” said Dean. He glanced involuntarily to his left hand. The stump of his little finger had healed cleanly, but it remained a reminder of what he had gone through while he was held captive.

“I need to talk to your parents. Do you think you could call them and see if they can come?”

“Um . . . sure?” Dean blinked. “Why do you need to talk to my parents?”

I took a deep breath, stalling while I tried to decide exactly what to tell him. In the end, it was easiest to go with the truth. “I went to talk to the Queen about the goblin fruit that’s been flooding the streets. Things got a little . . . heated . . . and she banished me.”

“From her Court?” asked Dean.

“From her Kingdom. I have three days. The Luidaeg told me to talk to people who knew King Gilad. That means your parents.”

There was a clatter behind us. We all turned to see Marcia picking up a tray of sandwiches from the floor. “Sorry!” she said. “Sorry, sorry, I tripped over my own feet, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I do that all the time,” said Dean. He was still staring at me, looking a little stunned. “Walking is hard.”

“Gravity sucks,” I agreed. “So can you call them?”

“Didn’t you go to the Undersea on your own last time you needed to talk to Mom? She’s sort of land-averse.” He hesitated before adding, “And maybe she could let you stay in Saltmist for a while.”

I grimaced. “Okay, yes, I went to the Undersea last time, but I had to let the Luidaeg turn me into a Merrow in order to do that. I’m not a big water person. Your mother’s land-aversion? Multiply that times a thousand and you’ve got me and water. Oh, and I’m even less fond of being turned into things. So if there’s any chance she’s willing to come up here, that would be much, much better.” I didn’t touch the idea of my hiding in the Undersea. Horrifying as it was to contemplate, there was a very real chance that things could go that way.

“Toby was a fish for a while,” Quentin informed him, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Fourteen years.”

“Yes, I remember when MTV played videos and only geeks had the Internet, okay?” I crossed my arms and scowled, temporarily forgetting that I was supposed to be asking Dean for a favor. People are more likely to do you favors when you’re nice to them. “Now can you call your parents? Please ?”

“Of course.” Dean shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t be relieved, but I’m so bored. It turns out ruling a County full of people who don’t want you to tell them what to do doesn’t actually take up all that much time.”

I bit my lip so as not to smile, having experienced something very similar during my time at Goldengreen. “You don’t say.”

“I do.” Dean sighed. “I’ll go call my folks. Be right back.”

“We’ll be here.” I was surprised when I first learned that the Undersea has DSL and phone service. I shouldn’t have been. Faerie likes to stay in touch as much as anybody.

Marcia returned with a fresh tray of sandwiches while we waited. She had a large mug in one hand. “I thought you could use this,” she said, handing it to me.

“You are a genius ,” I said, before taking a long drink of coffee. “Oh, that’s good.”

“The Luidaeg didn’t have any coffee,” said Quentin.

“Well, then, I’m amazed Toby hasn’t started stabbing people yet.” Marcia looked at me frankly. “It looks like you’ve been eating, and I can’t see any circles under your eyes. Have you started actually sleeping?”

“Tybalt makes her,” said Quentin.

“That’s wonderful,” said Marcia, and handed Tybalt a sandwich.

I raised an eyebrow. “You three realize I’m right here, don’t you?”

“Yes, but as you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, we’re doing it for you.” Marcia thrust her tray in my direction. “Sandwich?”