Seanan McGuire - Late Eclipses

“Pretty much.” Danny unfastened his seat belt. “Good thing it worked, huh?”

The implications of that statement were a bit more than I cared to think about just then. I twisted in my seat to face the back, asking, “Connor? You okay?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he replied faintly. Danny opened the door and the Barghests went rocketing out, making as much noise as they possibly could as they began racing around the garden. Connor winced at the racket before asking, “Are we dead?”

“Not yet. If you’re going to barf, don’t do it in Mom’s birdbath.” I undid my own belt and climbed out of the car, stretching to cover the fact that my legs were shaking. “Root and branch, we can walk to Shadowed Hills from here.”

“You’re gonna have to.”

I looked toward Danny as Connor got out of the backseat and moved to stand behind me. “No roads?” I ventured.

“That’s most of it. The rest is that Connie warned me when she set up the doohickey that it’d leave a trail a mile wide.” Danny shook his head, expression going grim. “The Queen’s got folks who can open doors to the Summerlands. It won’t take them long to track us.”

“So we start walking. Come on.”

“No. You’re going to need something to distract the folks that chased us in here, and I’m in the mood to punch something. Me and the kids are staying. You just tell your summer home over there,” he flapped a hand in the direction of the tower, “to let us in when we ask. We’ll hold off the guards till we can’t, and then we’ll go inside, shut the door, and have a nice nap.”

“Danny—”

“Don’t argue. It’ll just waste time, and they already know I was with you.” Danny shrugged. “We’re not exactly inconspicuous. Your ma have cable?”

“Not last time I checked.” I walked around the car, hugging as much of him as my arms would allow. “This was good.”

“Just squaring up for my sister’s tab,” he said, patting me on the head with one massive hand. “Now get out of here, both of you.” He pushed me away. I went.

“Connor, come on.” I started for the gate leading to the woods between my mother’s land and Sylvester’s. He followed. I paused at the garden wall, tapping the stone and whispering, “These three are with me. Let them in, and no one else.” Nothing happened—nothing visible—but I knew the tower heard me. When the time came, it would do its best to offer sanctuary to Danny and the Barghests.

The image of what they’d do to Mom’s furniture was enough to bring a brief but sincere smile to my face.

“This is definitely turning into one of my more interesting nights,” said Connor, following me into the wood outside the garden wall. “What’s next?”

“Hopefully, nothing this exciting.” The trees around us were citrines, with orange-veined leaves and papery bark. The ground was relatively smooth; citrine trees have deep, narrow roots. “Get in, find Sylvester, and tell him what’s going on. Find Oleander. Don’t die.”

“Got it,” he said.

We kept walking. The citrines were replaced by delicate ferns with pearl-white-and-rose fronds that stood taller than our heads. Connor took my hand without saying a word. I squeezed his fingers and kept going as the ferns thinned, replaced by trees with dark green leaves and delicate thorns covering their branches.

“Almost there,” said Connor.

“Yeah.” The thorny trees gave way to towering ornamental hedges as the Great Hall of Shadowed Hills came into view.

The term “Shadowed Hills” describes a lot of things. It’s the Duchy. It’s the knowe. It’s the Great Hall that houses the Torquill family. In the mortal world, it’s just a hill. But in the Summerlands, Shadowed Hills is a manor house spread over three acres of land, saved from castlehood only by its lack of turrets and a moat. And Sylvester may eventually have those added.

“Something’s wrong.” Connor tugged me to a halt. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong.”

I frowned, studying the outline of the Great Hall as I tried to find the missing piece of the picture. Then I saw it, and went cold. “Luna’s coat of arms is gone.” Sylvester’s arms were still there, as were the Duchy’s, but they were flying at half-mast.

“Do you think she … ?”

I didn’t even want to dream the words, much less hear them spoken out loud. “Come on,” I said, briskly, and started moving again.

There are almost a dozen ways into Shadowed Hills from the Summerlands-side. Connor and I followed the line of hedges past the main door, heading for the nearest servants’ entrance. Stacy, Julie, and I used to sneak in that way when we were kids; Kerry’s mother worked there, and she’d feed us in exchange for taking Kerry off her hands. I just hoped the door was where I remembered it. Things at Shadowed Hills tend to move around, but that doesn’t usually include the servants’ quarters—Luna’s passion for interior decoration has never extended to pots, pans, and the kitchen help.

Footsteps approached along a path to the left. I ducked behind the hedge, pulling Connor against me as four knights in the livery of Shadowed Hills walked by. I knew them. I’d fought with them, practiced with them, and gotten roaring drunk with them. They weren’t friends, but they were people I respected, and if they saw me, they’d turn me in. It was their duty. Not even Sylvester could protect me from the Queen unless he wanted to declare war on the rest of the Kingdom.

My heel scuffed the gravel. The knights paused, and I flinched, aware of how exposed we were. If they followed the sound they’d find us, and that would be the end. There was nowhere left to run.

Connor and I held our breath, clinging to each other as the seconds ticked by. Finally, the guards shook their heads and continued on their way. I waited for the footsteps to fade before I started breathing again, and I still counted to a hundred before I stood and bolted for the hall, Connor racing to keep up. We crossed the remaining distance in a matter of minutes, my heart hammering against my ribs as we ducked behind the narrow bit of stonework that concealed the kitchen door when I was a kid.

Luck was on our side; the door was still there. “Come on,” I whispered. Connor nodded, and followed me inside.

Nothing at Shadowed Hills is small. The main kitchen is a vast room filled with ovens, stoves, counters, and the sweet smell of baking bread. The ceiling is low so that pots, pans, and dried herbs can be hung from the rafters; that keeps the sheer size of the place from being daunting, but only barely. I held the door long enough to peek out and be sure no one was following before easing it shut and turning to face the room.

Despite the sheer size of the kitchen, there was only one person in sight: a small, wizened man with a long white beard, contentedly washing dishes in the largest of the three sinks. Six Hobs—even halfbloods—can do the work of three dozen humans, and they get cranky when you shove too many of them into one place. I gestured for Connor to follow as I began creeping toward the door on the far wall.

We were halfway across the room when the man said, “Afternoon, Miss Toby, Master Connor. Wouldn’t go out there, were I you. There’s a ruckus on.”

I winced as I turned to face him. Connor moved to stand next to me, taking my hand again. It was a show of support, and I appreciated it more than words could possibly have said. “Yeah, we know about the ruckus, um … ”

“Ormond, dear. You knew me when you were younger, but it’s been a bit, hasn’t it? Haven’t seen you in the kitchens since, oh, year before young Meriel got herself sacked for malingering. That’s a good three decades, I’d say.”