The Winter Long
Page 57
I whistled. “Okay, I know your parents are pretty cool and everything, but that? That is cold.”
Quentin shrugged. “That’s kingship. I’m not in any hurry to start taking up my duties as the Crown Prince . . . although I wouldn’t wish those duties on my sister, either.”
“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. I get that,” I said. “What did Evening do?”
“She contacted my father,” Quentin said, eyes fixed on the hall ahead of us. His accent grew stronger, like he was remembering a time when everyone around him sounded like home, and not like the California coast. “She came to our court. I’d never seen her before, and then one day there she was, during private audiences, standing in front of the dais.”
“Are you sure it was Evening?” I hated to question my squire’s memory, but under the circumstances, I would have questioned my own.
Quentin seemed to understand that, because he didn’t look annoyed. He just nodded, and said, “I’m sure. She was like something out of a story, you know? I was a fairy prince being raised in a castle hidden on an island outside of Toronto, and she still looked like something out of a story to me. I kept expecting wildflowers to grow in her footsteps. But not pretty ones, not daisies or poppies or anything like that. Poisonous ones. Hemlock and blooming wolfsbane and other things that can hurt you.”
“That sounds like Evening,” I agreed. “What happened?”
“She told my father that rumors of my impending fosterage had reached her, and that while she wouldn’t reveal her sources, she had come to plead the case for her home kingdom of the Mists. She told him Goldengreen wasn’t really an appropriate place to foster a child, but that the Duchy of Shadowed Hills was an excellent place to learn humility and service.” Quentin shook his head, frowning. “He should have told her ‘no.’ He should have said that if she knew I was going to be fostered, she was a danger to the line of succession, and refused to let me go anywhere near her. I was only a kid, and I knew that.”
“That clearly didn’t happen, since you’re here,” I said.
“That’s my point. My father is a good king and a good man and he loves me. He sent me away because he loves me. So why would he send me somewhere that had already heard rumors about the Crown Prince being sent into blind fosterage?” Quentin turned to look at me, still walking. “As soon as she said ‘send him to us,’ he should have replied ‘get out of my court,’ and instead he asked his Seneschal to contact the Duke of Shadowed Hills and start arranging my fosterage. I was in Pleasant Hill, presenting myself at the old oak tree, less than a month later.”
I frowned. “Evening wanted you here.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.” He looked back to the hall. “I was sad when she died, because I remembered her coming to my father’s court, but it never seemed important, somehow. It was like it had all happened in backstory, and now the story had actually started.”
“That’s a really weird way of putting it,” I said.
“I know,” said Quentin, sounding frustrated. “That’s the problem. It’s like I always knew how strange it was for me to be a blind royal foster placed in a Duchy that was in the process of recovering from horrible tragedy. Duke Torquill was barely speaking to anyone when I arrived at the court. Duchess Torquill was a ghost, and some nights, Rayseline wouldn’t stop screaming . . . why would my parents have sent me there? They had no good reason to banish me to a Duchy that was both provincial and chaotic, but they did.”
“Because Evening told them to,” I said slowly. I had never wondered overly hard at the exact timeline of Quentin’s arrival in Shadowed Hills. Maybe I should have: he’d been fourteen when I met him, and he’d been there roughly two years. Luna and Rayseline Torquill had been released from their own captivity two years before I came back to the Duchy. “How did she get Sylvester to agree?”
This time, Quentin’s chuckle was almost bitter. “Toby, when the High King tells you to do something, you do it. Even at his absolute worst, Duke Torquill was never so divorced from reality that he forgot that.”
“Apparently, reality has taken out a restraining order on me,” I grumbled. Putting a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, I asked, “Are you okay? Are you sure you want to stay with us if we’re going to be potentially facing your First? You could stay here with Raj while Tybalt and I go on ahead. I wouldn’t think any less of you.”
“I’m your squire,” he said, with the note of familiar stubbornness that I’d long since become accustomed to hearing in his voice. “Where you go, I go.”
“Then perhaps you should both prepare yourselves for a long, cold transit,” said Tybalt. I looked up. He and Raj had stopped in front of a plain oak wall, decorated only by a line of hardwood molding along the upper edge. It didn’t match the hallway around us, or either of the rooms that it connected to.
I didn’t know how anyone could lose a single wall out of their home, and I didn’t really feel like taking the time to ask. “This is the border?”
Tybalt nodded. “My Court extends no further.”
“Raj seemed pretty tired after just bringing me from Goldengreen . . .” I said.
“He was running alone,” said Tybalt. “It will be different when he runs the roads at the same time as I do. My presence holds the shadows open as his does not, as yet. I can help him.”
That made me feel a little better about allowing Raj and Quentin to run separately—and after our encounter with the wards at Goldengreen, I wasn’t sure that running in a line was any safer. “I’ll trust you on that,” I said, moving away from Quentin and stopping next to Tybalt. He held out his hand. I took it, holding on as tightly as I could without hurting either one of us.
“I’ll never tire of hearing you say that you trust me, little fish,” he said, and glanced to Raj. “This will be a fair journey. Do you know the way?”
Raj nodded. “Run for Albany, come up for air. Do the same in Orinda. Then dive down into the Summerlands, so that we come up on the grounds in Shadowed Hills, instead of in the mortal world.”
“Good,” said Tybalt approvingly. “We shall take a similar route. When you arrive, if you somehow manage to beat us there, wait among the trees. Do not approach anyone, even if you know them.”
Quentin shrugged. “That’s kingship. I’m not in any hurry to start taking up my duties as the Crown Prince . . . although I wouldn’t wish those duties on my sister, either.”
“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. I get that,” I said. “What did Evening do?”
“She contacted my father,” Quentin said, eyes fixed on the hall ahead of us. His accent grew stronger, like he was remembering a time when everyone around him sounded like home, and not like the California coast. “She came to our court. I’d never seen her before, and then one day there she was, during private audiences, standing in front of the dais.”
“Are you sure it was Evening?” I hated to question my squire’s memory, but under the circumstances, I would have questioned my own.
Quentin seemed to understand that, because he didn’t look annoyed. He just nodded, and said, “I’m sure. She was like something out of a story, you know? I was a fairy prince being raised in a castle hidden on an island outside of Toronto, and she still looked like something out of a story to me. I kept expecting wildflowers to grow in her footsteps. But not pretty ones, not daisies or poppies or anything like that. Poisonous ones. Hemlock and blooming wolfsbane and other things that can hurt you.”
“That sounds like Evening,” I agreed. “What happened?”
“She told my father that rumors of my impending fosterage had reached her, and that while she wouldn’t reveal her sources, she had come to plead the case for her home kingdom of the Mists. She told him Goldengreen wasn’t really an appropriate place to foster a child, but that the Duchy of Shadowed Hills was an excellent place to learn humility and service.” Quentin shook his head, frowning. “He should have told her ‘no.’ He should have said that if she knew I was going to be fostered, she was a danger to the line of succession, and refused to let me go anywhere near her. I was only a kid, and I knew that.”
“That clearly didn’t happen, since you’re here,” I said.
“That’s my point. My father is a good king and a good man and he loves me. He sent me away because he loves me. So why would he send me somewhere that had already heard rumors about the Crown Prince being sent into blind fosterage?” Quentin turned to look at me, still walking. “As soon as she said ‘send him to us,’ he should have replied ‘get out of my court,’ and instead he asked his Seneschal to contact the Duke of Shadowed Hills and start arranging my fosterage. I was in Pleasant Hill, presenting myself at the old oak tree, less than a month later.”
I frowned. “Evening wanted you here.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.” He looked back to the hall. “I was sad when she died, because I remembered her coming to my father’s court, but it never seemed important, somehow. It was like it had all happened in backstory, and now the story had actually started.”
“That’s a really weird way of putting it,” I said.
“I know,” said Quentin, sounding frustrated. “That’s the problem. It’s like I always knew how strange it was for me to be a blind royal foster placed in a Duchy that was in the process of recovering from horrible tragedy. Duke Torquill was barely speaking to anyone when I arrived at the court. Duchess Torquill was a ghost, and some nights, Rayseline wouldn’t stop screaming . . . why would my parents have sent me there? They had no good reason to banish me to a Duchy that was both provincial and chaotic, but they did.”
“Because Evening told them to,” I said slowly. I had never wondered overly hard at the exact timeline of Quentin’s arrival in Shadowed Hills. Maybe I should have: he’d been fourteen when I met him, and he’d been there roughly two years. Luna and Rayseline Torquill had been released from their own captivity two years before I came back to the Duchy. “How did she get Sylvester to agree?”
This time, Quentin’s chuckle was almost bitter. “Toby, when the High King tells you to do something, you do it. Even at his absolute worst, Duke Torquill was never so divorced from reality that he forgot that.”
“Apparently, reality has taken out a restraining order on me,” I grumbled. Putting a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, I asked, “Are you okay? Are you sure you want to stay with us if we’re going to be potentially facing your First? You could stay here with Raj while Tybalt and I go on ahead. I wouldn’t think any less of you.”
“I’m your squire,” he said, with the note of familiar stubbornness that I’d long since become accustomed to hearing in his voice. “Where you go, I go.”
“Then perhaps you should both prepare yourselves for a long, cold transit,” said Tybalt. I looked up. He and Raj had stopped in front of a plain oak wall, decorated only by a line of hardwood molding along the upper edge. It didn’t match the hallway around us, or either of the rooms that it connected to.
I didn’t know how anyone could lose a single wall out of their home, and I didn’t really feel like taking the time to ask. “This is the border?”
Tybalt nodded. “My Court extends no further.”
“Raj seemed pretty tired after just bringing me from Goldengreen . . .” I said.
“He was running alone,” said Tybalt. “It will be different when he runs the roads at the same time as I do. My presence holds the shadows open as his does not, as yet. I can help him.”
That made me feel a little better about allowing Raj and Quentin to run separately—and after our encounter with the wards at Goldengreen, I wasn’t sure that running in a line was any safer. “I’ll trust you on that,” I said, moving away from Quentin and stopping next to Tybalt. He held out his hand. I took it, holding on as tightly as I could without hurting either one of us.
“I’ll never tire of hearing you say that you trust me, little fish,” he said, and glanced to Raj. “This will be a fair journey. Do you know the way?”
Raj nodded. “Run for Albany, come up for air. Do the same in Orinda. Then dive down into the Summerlands, so that we come up on the grounds in Shadowed Hills, instead of in the mortal world.”
“Good,” said Tybalt approvingly. “We shall take a similar route. When you arrive, if you somehow manage to beat us there, wait among the trees. Do not approach anyone, even if you know them.”
