A Local Habitation

“Please, you have to find her,” he said. “Please.”


“We’ll do our best,” I said. Anything less would have been unfair; anything more would have been a lie. Unless she’d gone off-site or locked herself in an empty office to get some work done, she was probably dead. I’m enough of a realist to know that . . . but I also knew that wasn’t the kind of reassurance he was looking for.

“That’s all we can ask,” he said, and dropped my hands. He looked smaller somehow, deflated. He’d already given up. I couldn’t blame him; he’d lost his lover, and now we both knew he’d lost his liege as well. It would have broken anyone. It would have broken me.

Alex wasn’t far away. He was standing to one side, staring at his hands. I didn’t have to ask to know whether he’d found her bike. The tears running down his face told me everything.

“Toby . . .” Quentin said.

“I see him.” Turning, I walked to the main entrance with Connor and Quentin behind me. No one followed; no one saw us go.

The halls were empty, and our footsteps echoed as we walked. It was like walking back through time to Shadowed Hills right after Luna disappeared . . . only this time we weren’t expecting to find the missing regent pruning roses in a garden somewhere. This time, we weren’t expecting to find the missing regent at all.

Connor’s hand found mine, fingers slipping into place. “Where do we start?”

“We’re not starting anywhere,” I said. “We’re going to let the knowe show us the way.”

“What?” asked Quentin.

“Just follow me.” This wouldn’t have worked earlier, while Jan was alive and controlling the knowe with her expectations. It might not work now. It was the best idea I had. Turning the first corner we came to, I walked.

Knowes shape themselves to fit the subconscious desires of their keepers. That’s why Shadowed Hills has so many gardens; that’s why my mother’s hall never had any mirrors or locks on the doors. I was counting on that to take us to the body. I would never have tried it with a moving target or with anyone less tied to the County than Jan . . . but the King is literally the land in Faerie, and if she were dead, the knowe would want us to find her.

We didn’t pass anyone as we walked. I was following the patterns in the tile and the directions indicated by careless arrows on bulletin boards, trusting anything that looked like it could be a sign. It seemed to be working. Our route was leading us through more and more places that I recognized, taking us onto familiar ground.

Quentin looked at me as we walked, asking, “Is she dead?”

“Probably.” I studied our surroundings, finally starting for the door that seemed most aligned with the scuff marks on the floor.

“Why didn’t they wake us sooner?”

“Because that would have made it real,” said Connor. We both looked toward him, and he shrugged. “As long as they were looking on their own, it wasn’t happening.”

The door led to the cafeteria kitchen, revealing a second entrance previously concealed by the cupboards on that wall. The cafeteria was spotless, all traces of my ritual circle and its messy results wiped away by Elliot’s magic. I wondered how long we’d been asleep before he gave in to the urge to clean.

“Come on,” I said. “We’re getting closer.”

“But what are we doing?” Quentin was looking increasingly frustrated.

“We’re letting the knowe lead us. Jan was Countess, and the land will be in mourning if she’s dead. It’ll want us to find her.” I stepped into the hall, noting without surprise that we were only a few doors down from Jan’s office. There wasn’t much chance of finding her there—they’d almost certainly looked there first—but it was a start. Even endings begin somewhere.