Chimes at Midnight
Page 6
“That makes me feel much better.” I turned to kiss him, planting both hands flat on his chest to keep the gesture from turning into anything more involved. “Can you get my ankle sheath? It’s on the dresser.”
“Certainly.” As he turned to find it, he asked, “Have you considered how to make your entrance without soaking your skirts?”
The entrance to the Queen’s knowe required us to pass through a frequently semi-flooded cave. My gown was floor-length. “Maeve’s tits,” I swore. “I’m going to get drenched. Again.”
“Not necessarily.” He smiled as he turned to offer my sheath. “The Queen of the Mists is required by treaty to allow the Court of Cats entry through the Shadow Roads. I believe it would cement me as the target of her frustrations if I were kind enough to allow you to shortcut her watery pranks for the evening.”
I blinked, and then grinned. “You’re brilliant. Can Quentin pass through the shadows too, or does he have to wade?”
“I believe I can transport you both a short distance.” He sighed as he watched me strap on the sheath. “You’re intending to drive to the beach, aren’t you?”
“I’m not comfortable when I haven’t got my car. Besides, you said yourself that you could transport us both a short distance. We’re close to the Queen’s knowe, but we’re not that close.” I grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser, beginning to brush the snarls out of my wet hair. It was slow going. As I worked, I offered, “You could meet us there, if you’d rather?”
Tybalt paused before sighing again. “I think that might be best, since I’m sure whatever misadventure we’re about to embark on will require me to spend more time in that damnable contraption. I should save my tolerance for a time when there won’t be a better choice.”
“That seems wise.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail.
He winced. “Please tell me you’re going to let May do something else with your hair. Something that is not that.”
“What?” I lowered my hands, blinking at him. “You said I should put my hair up.”
“October, in formal settings, there is a world of difference between putting one’s hair up and preparing to go for a run. You have accomplished the latter. You need to accomplish the former if you’re trying not to insult the Queen.”
“I usually just leave my hair down,” I grumbled.
“And you usually manage to insult the Queen in short order. Let’s try this without stacking the deck against you, shall we?” He folded his arms. “Please? For me?”
“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.
THREE
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.
“Certainly.” As he turned to find it, he asked, “Have you considered how to make your entrance without soaking your skirts?”
The entrance to the Queen’s knowe required us to pass through a frequently semi-flooded cave. My gown was floor-length. “Maeve’s tits,” I swore. “I’m going to get drenched. Again.”
“Not necessarily.” He smiled as he turned to offer my sheath. “The Queen of the Mists is required by treaty to allow the Court of Cats entry through the Shadow Roads. I believe it would cement me as the target of her frustrations if I were kind enough to allow you to shortcut her watery pranks for the evening.”
I blinked, and then grinned. “You’re brilliant. Can Quentin pass through the shadows too, or does he have to wade?”
“I believe I can transport you both a short distance.” He sighed as he watched me strap on the sheath. “You’re intending to drive to the beach, aren’t you?”
“I’m not comfortable when I haven’t got my car. Besides, you said yourself that you could transport us both a short distance. We’re close to the Queen’s knowe, but we’re not that close.” I grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser, beginning to brush the snarls out of my wet hair. It was slow going. As I worked, I offered, “You could meet us there, if you’d rather?”
Tybalt paused before sighing again. “I think that might be best, since I’m sure whatever misadventure we’re about to embark on will require me to spend more time in that damnable contraption. I should save my tolerance for a time when there won’t be a better choice.”
“That seems wise.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail.
He winced. “Please tell me you’re going to let May do something else with your hair. Something that is not that.”
“What?” I lowered my hands, blinking at him. “You said I should put my hair up.”
“October, in formal settings, there is a world of difference between putting one’s hair up and preparing to go for a run. You have accomplished the latter. You need to accomplish the former if you’re trying not to insult the Queen.”
“I usually just leave my hair down,” I grumbled.
“And you usually manage to insult the Queen in short order. Let’s try this without stacking the deck against you, shall we?” He folded his arms. “Please? For me?”
“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.
THREE
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.
