Was I being paranoid in assuming there was a chance Riordan was going to try to detain us against our will? Yeah, probably. That didn’t mean I wasn’t also right.
“I will,” said Jazz firmly. “Open roads and kind skies, Toby.”
“Open roads,” I said, and hung up.
Quentin and April were sitting at the table when I returned to the cafeteria. He was busy shoving sandwiches into his mouth as if he had no idea where his next meal was going to be coming from. She wasn’t eating; instead, she was solemnly explaining the plot of a movie that sounded like the sort of thing May likes to watch on Saturday nights when there’s nothing better for her to do. Giant mutant fruit bats featured heavily.
Both of them turned when I stepped into the room. Quentin swallowed, not bothering to chew, before asking, “Did you get through?”
“Jazz is taking him a message and letting him know we may need backup. If all goes well, we won’t wind up stranded in Dreamer’s Glass while Chelsea brings the world down around our ears.”
“You always say the most optimistic things.” He stood, pausing only long enough to shove his last two sandwiches into his coat pockets. “It was good to see you again, April.”
“It was good to see you as well.” April didn’t stand; she just disappeared and reappeared next to me. “I am glad you were able to meet my secondary parent.”
“Me, too,” I said. It was odd to think of Li Qin as having been married to Jan, largely because it was hard to imagine Jan being married to anyone not made of circuitry and computer code. I guess we’re all more complicated than we look on the surface. As for why Quentin, who had been a Ducal page, hadn’t known about her…Li Qin didn’t seem to have a title of her own. Right or wrong, that would have made her irrelevant to the local political structure. If she hadn’t been married to Sylvester’s niece, he might have heard of her anyway, but Sylvester was oddly protective of information where Jan was concerned. That particular quirk kept finding new and surprising ways to bite us in the ass.
The door opened, and Li Qin stuck her head into the room. “Are you ready?” she asked. She had changed into her “slightly less insulting clothes,” leaving her ready for either a Renaissance Faire or a semiformal Court appearance, depending on how you looked at it. She was wearing a floor-length red brocade skirt a few shades darker than her rose-pink peasant blouse, with a waist-cincher corset in a red so deep that it was almost black. Her hair was loose around her face, hanging down below her shoulders, and she was wearing an illusion that made her seem human, adding whites to her eyes and slightly softening her face.
I blinked. Quentin blinked, too, and he said what I was thinking: “How did you lace yourself into that thing without help?”
“Velcro,” said Li Qin serenely. “If you would come with me, I’ll take you to the next stop on your chaperoned tour of the South Bay.”
“I always enjoy visiting crazy despots,” I said. “Let’s roll.”
“Bye, April,” said Quentin.
“Good-bye,” said April, and disappeared.
We didn’t see anyone as we walked back to the parking lot. The engine had barely had time to cool off. Li Qin took the front passenger seat without comment, apparently assuming that as navigator, she got to ride shotgun. I raised an eyebrow at Quentin. He shook his head. Even after all his time with me, my squire still had sufficient manners not to argue with a lady.
“Head for San Jose,” said Li Qin, once I was in the car with the engine started. “I’ll tell you where to turn when we get closer.”
“Got it.” I pulled out of the parking lot, the shadows of the eucalyptus trees ringing the company grounds dancing over my windshield like ghosts. The portcullis was up when we approached, and it dropped only after we were safely through. Quentin and I both sighed with relief.
Li Qin watched this with clear, if tired, amusement. Then she said, “I understand you were made Countess of Goldengreen?”
“Yeah, but I gave the title up. Dean Lorden is in charge of the County now.” More power to him. I’d hated being a Countess. I wasn’t equipped for it, and if I’d kept my fiefdom, I would probably have done some serious damage. Dean, on the other hand, was raised in a noble household. His mother, Dianda, was the Duchess of Saltmist, and when she wasn’t playing scary mermaid games, she ran a pretty good Duchy. She’d taught her sons to rule, even knowing that only one would ever inherit in the Undersea. Lucky Dean, he tripped over one of the rare land nobles who wanted her holdings about as much as she wanted a hole in the head. Maybe less.
“Good,” said Li Qin. “The fact that you had power and chose to give it up will tell Riordan that you’re either without ambition or dangerously unbalanced. Either way, you should be interesting enough not to throw out unheard.”
“What about me?” asked Quentin.
“You’re my squire, so clearly your folks are cool with you hanging out with a loony slacker,” I said amiably. “That makes you pretty harmless, politically speaking.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” said Quentin.
“For today, embrace it,” advised Li Qin. “It may be what makes this a fruitful meeting.”
“Good old Duchess Riordan.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem with feudalism. You never get to vote the crazy ones out.”
“Don’t,” said Li Qin, with sudden sharpness. I glanced her way, surprised. She shook her head. “Don’t make the mistake of writing Treasa Riordan off as crazy. If you want madness, visit the Court at Golden Gate. Riordan has something a lot more dangerous.”
“What’s that?” asked Quentin.
“Ambition.” Li Qin said the word like it was coated in poison, something to be thrust away as quickly and as firmly as possible.
“Charming.” I glanced Li Qin’s way again as I drove. She was frowning. “Sorry.”
“I offered,” she said.
“Still.” I sighed. “So, new topic. Not to be rude or anything, but I’m pretty up on my fae taxonomy, and I’ve never seen a member of your race before. What are you?”
“That’s because not many of us live in North America, and most of the ones who do are in Southern California, Montreal, or Texas. We had a colony in San Francisco, but we moved to more stable ground shortly before the 1906 earthquake.” Li Qin shook her head. “We’re called Shyi Shuai. We…read luck, for lack of a better way of putting it.”
That explained how they’d been able to move to stable ground before the earthquake, rather than joining the exodus from the Bay Area that followed it. “Huh,” I said. “Neat.” I meant that, too. Now that I had the taste of her bloodline filed in my memory, I’d be able to identify any other Shyi Shuai purebloods or changelings I might encounter. “Who claims you?”
“Maeve,” said Li Qin. She gave me a sidelong look. “Now, to be polite, I must ask you the same question. Your squire is Daoine Sidhe. April informs me you’re not, although she says you once told her you were. What are you, and who claims you?”
“In my defense, I wasn’t lying at the time; I was misinformed,” I said. “I’m Dóchas Sidhe. My mother, Amandine, is our Firstborn, and Oberon was her father, so I suppose technically he claims us. No one else has put in a bid, anyway.”
“Dóchas Sidhe?” Li Qin frowned. “That’s familiar, somehow.”
“What? Where did you—”
“I don’t know. I think…the Library. I came here from Southern California a long time ago, to study there. I wanted to chart the genealogy of the Shyi Shuai in North America. I think that’s where I heard that name before. I’m sorry.” Li Qin shook her head, frown deepening. “I don’t really remember. It was a footnote, if that.”
“Right,” I said, and fell silent, pondering. The Libraries are the repository of fae history, going all the way back to the beginning. They’re invaluable resources…if you can get a pass, something that’s not always easy. I’d never even bothered to try. The librarians don’t let many people past their doors, and as a changeling, I was a
utomatically at the bottom of their list.
Quentin’s had time to learn how to recognize my “I’m thinking, leave me alone” silences. He leaned forward, poking his head over the back of the seats, and asked Li Qin, “So why’d you stay up here, if you just came to study?”
“The usual reason,” said Li Qin. “I met a girl. Fell in love. Decided to stick around while she did a variety of insane, occasionally impossible things. Got married. Adopted a Dryad. Did my best to live happily ever after.”
“Oh,” said Quentin. Then he asked the one question I wasn’t sure how to word: “Why weren’t you here?”
“Because Jan asked me to leave,” said Li Qin. “The situation was…complicated. My luck was tangled, and everything I could see, or get Yui to scry for, said it was tangled because it contained a potential death—my death. We agreed it was best for me to go and see some family in Montreal while I worked past the knot. By the time I heard what had happened, it was too late. I couldn’t even come to the funeral.”
Yui had been Tamed Lightning’s Kitsune alchemist. If she told Jan that Li Qin had to leave or die, Jan would have listened. I still winced. “I—”
“Please don’t say you’re sorry for my loss.” A smile ghosted across her lips. “Twice was more than enough.”
“I lost my boyfriend recently,” I said quietly. “It’s not the same thing, but it’s in the same family. I can’t imagine losing a spouse.”
“Pray you never have to,” she recommended, and turned to look out the window, plainly signaling that she wanted a break from the conversation. It was something I was more than happy to give her.
Connor was a Selkie, and I was a relatively weak changeling when we met. We always knew we wouldn’t have forever, even if everything in the universe went our way—and that’s something that never happened, for either of us. I lost him too soon, but I always knew on some level that the loss was coming. Jan and Li Qin were both purebloods. They had every reason to think they had forever, or at least the next best thing. Losing her like that must have seemed impossible. Sadly for all of us, it wasn’t.
“Take the next exit and follow the signs to the Museum of Science,” said Li Qin, breaking the silence that had fallen over the car. I nodded and followed her directions.
Downtown San Jose looked disturbingly like downtown in a hundred other American cities, a mixture of towering office buildings, obscenely large hotels, green patches of park, and museums meant to titillate and enthrall the tourists, causing them to spend more money before heading for home. The Museum of Science fit right in, tucked as it was between a chain restaurant and a park that promised dire fines for anyone seen walking a dog.
“Pull into the parking garage, and head for the lower level,” said Li Qin.
A machine at the mouth of the garage gave me a piece of paper with a timestamp on it and lots of small print telling me how much it would cost if I lost my ticket. I was starting to think San Jose existed solely to charge me for things I didn’t know were against the rules.
The parking garage was about half-full, but I drove past the open spots on the first two levels anyway, heading for the bottom. “Now what?”
“Now drive into that wall.” Li Qin pointed at a patch of blank concrete.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I sighed, and hit the gas. There was a faint electric tingle as we passed through the seemingly solid stone and into the Summerlands. I immediately stepped on the brake, looking around. “Um.”
“Weird,” said Quentin.
“Welcome to Dreamer’s Glass,” said Li Qin.
We had driven out of a parking garage and into…a parking garage. This one was constructed in what seemed to be a natural cavern; the walls I could see were ragged stone, and the ceiling was so high it disappeared into shadow. Globes of glowing witchlight floated about twenty feet up, casting their rays down on the jarringly mundane grid of white lines painted in the middle of the cavern floor, marking out the parking spaces. Most of them were full.
“You want to park in one of the spaces marked with a poppy,” said Li Qin. “Riordan is very touchy about people using their assigned spaces.”
“Poppy meaning…?”
“Visitor, not hostile, not yet allied, still has to pay for parking.”
I sighed. “Wow. I love hospitality.”
No one came to greet us as I parked the car. That made me more nervous. Everything I’d ever heard about Dreamer’s Glass told me we should have been surrounded by an army by now. Instead, we were alone.
“I don’t like this,” said Quentin.
“You’re not meant to,” said Li Qin. “Just drop your human disguise and get out. It’ll all be clear in a moment.”
“I hate it when people say things like that.” I let my illusions go as I opened the car door. From the sudden blend of scents in the air, I knew Li Qin and Quentin were doing the same.
I had barely finished standing when a man appeared in front of me, tall, thin, and translucent as clear water poured into a human-shaped mold. He was holding a sword as clear as the rest of him, its point only a few inches from my throat. I froze. I could see more of the spun-glass fae appearing out of the corner of my eye. They weren’t teleporting. They were just becoming visible.
“Guess we got that army after all,” I said, and breathed in sharply, hoping it would be taken as a sign of fear.
The sword at my throat didn’t waver. “What is your business?” demanded the man, in a voice only slightly more substantial than the rest of him.
“We’re here to request audience with Duchess Treasa Riordan,” I said. I knew the taste of his heritage, even if I couldn’t see him clearly: Folletti. Their race hailed from the Cloud Kingdoms, where it was easier for someone who was essentially a living piece of the wind to get by. They only came to land to sell their services to the highest bidder. In this case, it must have been Riordan. Somehow, knowing that she had invisible guards didn’t make me feel any better about being there.
Li Qin walked around the car to stand beside me, unbothered by the translucent men with swords. “I am allowed, under the mourner’s flag, to visit these lands and claim hospitality.”
“Well, sure, honey, but that doesn’t mean you get to go bringing guests.” The new voice was female, more solid than the whispering tones of the Folletti. I turned to see a Daoine Sidhe woman in jeans and a black T-shirt with “The Careful Application of Terror is Also a Form of Communication” printed across the front. Her only jewelry was a ruby choker, red against the white of her throat. “Sergio, you can take your boys and go back on patrol. I’ve got these ones.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The Folletti in front of me slid his sword back into an unseen sheath, sketched a bow, and vanished. The other Folletti did the same. My hair was ruffled by a sudden wind, and the taste of their presence vanished from my mouth.
“Hello, Treasa,” said Li Qin. “You’re looking well.”
Duchess Treasa Riordan looked more than well. Like most Daoine Sidhe, she looked radiant, even dressed like she was getting ready to make a munchies run before a night of cramming for exams. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade of red so dark it verged on black and shattered the light into prismatic shards when she moved. Her features were exquisite, and her figure could have convinced a fashion magazine that jeans were the only appropriate attire for the season. Gorgeous isn’t uncommon in Faerie. Still, I sometimes think I see certain people so often that their beauty stops affecting me the way it should. I wasn’t having that problem with Riordan. Just looking at her made my heart hurt a little bit.
“And you’re looking like you’re taking advantage of mourner’s rights. I’m counting your hours, Li. One minute over, you’re on my land, your ass is mine.” Duchess Riordan said this as calmly and pleasantly as a normal person might ask her guests if they wanted a cup of coffee.
“I am aware,” said Li Qin, taking it in stride.
“Just so we’re all on the same page here.” Duchess Riordan turned to
me and Quentin. Her eyes were an impossible shade of frosted lilac, like flowers that had been left outside during a cold snap. “And you are?”
“October Daye of Shadowed Hills, Your Grace.” I bowed. Being a knight means I don’t have to curtsy unless I want to. Bowing was equally appropriate, and it would hopefully make me look like I was a little dense when it came to courtly behavior, rather than making me seem rude. Riordan was an unknown factor.
“Really? You’re Amandine’s daughter?” Riordan’s frosty purple eyes searched my face with new intensity before she passed judgment: “I thought you’d be taller.”
“I get that a lot,” I said, even though I didn’t. Quentin moved to my other side. I gestured to him with one hand. “This is my squire, Quentin.”
“Milady,” said Quentin. His bow was deeper than mine and scrupulously formal. He was a Ducal page before I acquired him. Certain habits die hard, and no matter how hard I try to shake them out of him, I have to admit that sometimes they come in handy.
“Hmm,” said Riordan. The look she gave him was as assessing as the one she’d given me, but it was the sort of assessment most people reserve for livestock and expensive appliances.
Quentin was growing up. He was handsome enough, if I stepped back and forced myself to think of him that way, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that he was a pureblood Daoine Sidhe, trained in the courtly arts, and approaching marriageable age. For a woman like Riordan, the fact that he came from a family low-ranked enough to allow him to be squired to a changeling—and one from an unknown bloodline, at that—was probably a bonus. What I knew about her told me that she wasn’t a woman who shared power well.
I wasn’t the only one who understood what that look meant. Quentin swallowed hard, looking uncomfortable, and shifted to put himself just a little bit farther behind me. Smart kid.
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