A Local Habitation

“We can manage.” I wanted time to consider my options before I approached her again. If that meant finding my own way back to the cafeteria and out to the car, fine. I was a big girl. I could handle it.

“Great.” With that, I was dismissed. She sat down on the desk next to her mug and retrieved the computer she’d been using when I arrived, attention already focusing on something else.

It’s always fun when your allies are the ones you want to slap. I left the office without another word, somehow managing not to slam the door, and walked back the way I was pretty sure Alex and I had come. I almost regretted refusing Jan’s offer of an escort; maybe I could have convinced her to send for Alex. Of the people I’d met so far, he seemed the closest to normal. Besides, I wanted to figure out what he was—a little mystery can go a long way, and he had just enough to be interesting.

After half an hour of wandering the halls, I was ready to admit that I was lost. Every window showed a different view of the grounds, giving me absolutely no help with my navigation. I considered climbing out one of the ground-floor windows, but dismissed the idea; with my luck, exiting that way would make it impossible to find the cafeteria again, and I needed to take Quentin with me.

I finally spotted the familiar sky-blue door at the end of a series of sterile white halls that looked like something out of a soap opera hospital. The cafeteria. “About time,” I muttered, hurrying to reach it before it could find a way to disappear. If the hallways in the knowe were actually capable of movement, I wouldn’t put it past them to change just to spite me.

The cafeteria was still almost deserted, save for a single addition: the woman sitting across from Quentin, her chin resting on the balled knuckles of her left hand. He had a wide-eyed, almost stunned look of infatuation on his face, like he’d just figured out what the female gender was for. I’d never seen him look that much like a stereotypical teenager.

I let the door swing shut, clearing my throat. Neither one turned. “Hello?”

Now the woman looked around and smiled. She had a pale, pointed face, framed by straight black hair in a pageboy cut. Her eyes were orange—the same poppy-bright shade as Alex’s—and a scar marred one cheek-bone, almost invisible against her pallor. If she’d seen the sun in the last three years, I’d be surprised.

“Hi!” she said, still smiling. “We were starting to wonder if you’d show up.”

Quentin shook himself out of his daze and gave me a small wave, half-smiling. “Hey, Toby. Did you find Countess Torquill?”

“It’s Countess O’Leary, actually, and yes, I did. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” The woman stood, offering me her hand. The top of her head only came up to my shoulder. “I’m Terrie Olsen. Nice to meet you.”

“October Daye.” I took her hand and shook, once. “I see you’ve met my assistant.”

“Quentin? Yeah. He’s a peach. Where did you find him? He wouldn’t say; he’s such a man of mystery.” She grinned. I didn’t.

Quentin reddened, giving Terrie another adoring look. I frowned. “Shadowed Hills; he’s one of Duke Torquill’s fosters. He’s here to help me check in on the Countess.”

“Really? That’s sweet.” She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “He’s great company.”

“I’m sure,” I said, frown deepening. “Did you say your last name was Olsen?”

“Uh-huh. Just like my big, dumb brother.” Terrie flicked her hair back, adding, “You’ve probably met him. Tall blond dude, goes by ‘Alex’?”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “That explains the eyes.”

“Got them from Mom.” Terrie’s grin broadened until a dimple appeared in one cheek. “There’s a family resemblance.”

“I . . . guess that’s true, yes,” I agreed. Dare and Manuel—the last brother-sister team I’d encountered—also had matching eyes.

“Terrie was telling me about computer programming,” said Quentin, in a dopey, adoring voice. I looked back as he added, “She’s really good.”