Seanan McGuire - Chimes at Midnight

“You know, everyone warned me that getting into a serious relationship would change me, but I thought they meant my habits, not my hair.” I turned toward the door, stopping when I realized that Tybalt was openly staring at me. “What? What did I say?”

“You think this is a serious relationship?” he asked.

Sudden panic flooded over me. I forced it down, trying to focus on his tone of voice. He’d sounded surprised, not upset. “Yes?” I ventured.

To my immense relief, Tybalt smiled. “Good. So do I.”

“Okay, well, that’s one heart attack out of the way for tonight.” I grabbed my leather jacket from the closet door. “I’ll let May do my hair, since you insist. I’m keeping my sneakers. The gown will hide them until we get there, and I always feel better knowing I can run if I have to.” They’d be high heels as soon as the Queen worked her magic, but that was a problem for later.

Tybalt chuckled. “If things go so badly at Court that you have to run, little fish, then I assure you, footwear will be the least of your concerns.”

I shook my head at him and led the way out of the room, clutching my jacket against my chest. Maybe this was it; maybe she would listen, and stop the goblin fruit from spreading any further. Maybe it’d all be all right after we visited the Queen.

Maybe, but probably not. Unable to shake the feeling that I was somehow heading for my own execution, I walked down the stairs, and into the inevitable.

TYBALT TAKING THE SHADOW ROADS to the Queen’s Court turned out to be a good thing. He was uncomfortable in the car under the best of circumstances. He would probably have exploded if he’d tried to ride with three people behind him in the backseat, all of them crammed together and complaining. As it was, May and Jazz were able to sit together in comfort, while Quentin rode up front with me, by right of “I’m the squire and besides, you want to ride with your girlfriend.”

“You don’t have to come, you know.” I turned into the parking lot nearest the Queen’s knowe. “You can still back out. Go and see a movie or something, and I’ll fill you in when we’re done.”

“What, and miss all the fun?” May shook her head. “No way. I love bothering the Queen almost as much as I love Saturday morning cartoons.”

“If you say so.” I eyed them in the rearview mirror. “She’ll definitely be bothered.”

Jazz was wearing a purple sari with a feather pattern around the edges that matched the feathered band in her hair. As a skinshifter, her fae nature was bound into that knotted band. May, on the other hand, was wearing a bright pink dress, accessorized with bright green heels and jelly bracelets. It was like playing chauffeur for Jem and the Holograms, only without the convenient excuse of it being the 1980s.

“Why did you get dressed up?” Quentin asked. “Won’t the Queen transform your clothes as soon as you get inside?” He was wearing jeans and a nice button-down shirt, since he wasn’t the one the Queen actively disliked. He was also maintaining a don’t-look-here over the entire car, sparing us from needing individual human disguises. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without a squire.

“Ah, but we’re entering separately,” said May. “We may be spared her merciless fashion sense, in which case, I get to horrify courtiers with my taste in prom gowns.”

“Jazz’s dress is actually nice,” I protested.

Jazz smiled. “I’m good either way.”

“Too late for me to argue now. We’re here.” I pulled into an open space between an old VW van and a shiny new Prius too nice for the neighborhood and thus almost certainly protected by a stack of anti-theft charms. If the owner was smart, mortals couldn’t even see the car. Anti-theft charms don’t do anything to stop people from throwing a brick through your rear window when they get frustrated by their inability to touch the car.

My own VW bug was protected by anti-theft, anti-detection, and anti-bird-crap charms. You’d never have known to look at it, but my car had been basically totaled three months ago when an Afanc—a big beaver-looking monster from the deeper realms of Faerie—decided to take a nap on the roof. Thankfully, my friend Danny has a really good Gremlin mechanic, and my liege was footing the bill. After the repairs were finished, I was pretty sure my car was functionally indestructible. That would be a nice change, considering the fates my vehicles normally suffered.

“It’ll be fine,” said May.

“Tell me that in an hour,” I countered. I left my jacket on the front seat as I got out of the car. There was no point in tempting the Queen to turn it into a bolero or something.

We walked across the pavement to the sand and started down the beach in a ragged line. I didn’t realize Tybalt was beside me until he took my arm. I jumped, turning to face him. He smiled.

“Good evening, little fish.”

“You know, if you were anyone else, you’d have gotten decked just now,” I said. But I didn’t jerk my arm away.

“That is one of the many reasons I am thankful, each and every day, not to be anyone but myself.” Tybalt considered my ballet-style bun for a moment before he nodded. “It’s simple, but should avoid the Queen’s ire.”

“So glad you approve,” I said dryly.

“I just don’t want this to be harder than it has to be,” he said, sounding briefly quieter, more like the Tybalt I saw when I was alone than the hard, brilliant King of Cats. He turned to May and Jazz while I was mulling over the difference, and said, “You both look lovely tonight, but I believe this is where we part company. May I assume I’ll be seeing you inside?”

“Unless there’s a velvet rope now,” said May. “You crazy kids stay out of trouble, or at least wait until we get there to start it!”

“We’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.” I took Quentin’s hand in my free one. Tybalt led us forward, into the deepest shadows on the beach. Then we stepped through the wall of the world into darkness, and everything was cold, cold, and there was no air, but Quentin’s hand was warm in mine, and Tybalt’s body was warm beside me, and we were moving forward . . .

. . . into the sound and light of the Queen’s ballroom, where more than a few courtiers turned to look at us, some in surprise, some in more assessing disdain. I pulled my arm away from Tybalt, dropped Quentin’s hand, and looked down at myself. Then I sighed.

“You know, since the dress I was wearing was her work, I thought she might leave it alone. Silly, optimistic me.” My red silk gown was gone, replaced by an equally simple, equally floor-length gown. This one was gray silk, so pale it looked almost white when it wasn’t right against my skin. A complicated braid of red ribbons circled my waist. Even my hair had been restyled, my simple bun replaced by a waterfall of layers held separate by a thin net of ribbons. That was going to be hell to take out.

I pulled up the skirt to check my shoes, and blinked as I realized that they were still sneakers: all she’d changed were the laces, which were now red ribbons that matched my semi-belt. My ankle sheath was still in place, undisturbed by the Queen’s annoying obsession with changing my clothes. I let go of my skirt. “She left my shoes alone,” I said. “That’s weird.”

“At least she got us all?” offered Quentin, who looked annoyingly comfortable in his tunic and trousers.

I glanced toward Tybalt, and whatever I’d been about to say fled my mind, leaving me feeling more oxygen-deprived than our brief passage through the shadows justified. “Uh . . .”

He was wearing brown leather trousers, a darker brown leather vest, and a silk shirt that matched my dress. The sleeves were almost piratical in style, and the collar was unlaced. His boots were the same shade as his vest, a few shades lighter than his hair.