A Red-Rose Chain

“Look at it this way: being married to me will never be boring.” I pointed to the mortar. “Take a pinch of that and blow it into May’s eyes, will you? Just be ready to duck.”


“Yes, dear,” said Tybalt, his flat, toneless delivery making it clear that he was mocking me. He picked up a pinch of Walther’s powder, spread it thinly across his palm, and blew it into May’s eyes. He jumped backward at almost the same time, leaving a glittering cloud hanging in the air for May’s hand to sweep away as she directed an open-palmed slap at the place where he’d been a moment before. When her hand struck nothing but the empty air she stopped, blinking, a look of profound confusion on her face.

“You see, some of us understand the meaning of the word ‘dodge,’” said Tybalt. “Perhaps you should enlighten yourself. You might keep more of your blood within your body, and thus tax my poor heart less.” He turned his attention to May. “Milady Fetch. Welcome back to the land of the self-aware. I trust you have enjoyed your stay in the land of the insensate?”

“I’m going to kill him,” said May, in a slow, wondering voice. “I’m going to commit regicide. I hope none of you have a problem with that, because I’m going to do it.”

“Sorry, but I can’t let you,” I said. “We don’t have all the pieces we’d need to kill a King, like, I don’t know, consent from Oberon himself to violate the Law.”

“The penalty for breaking the Law is death,” said May. “I can’t be killed. It’ll work out fine.”

“The fact that you can’t die doesn’t mean they can’t try to kill you, and I’m pretty sure that you wouldn’t enjoy, say, decapitation,” I said. “While you were getting arrested, we were gathering information. Now settle down, and listen.”

It only took a few minutes to explain what had happened when I went to speak with King Rhys. It took longer to describe what happened next: the meeting in the wood with Ceres, the reunion between Walther and his sister, and most importantly, the possibility that Walther would actually be able to engineer a counterpotion for elf-shot. If the rightful holders of the throne could be awakened, we’d be in a better position to petition the High King to make things better.

When I finished, there was a moment of silence. Then Quentin asked, “Why did they come for me and May? We weren’t doing anything.”

“No, but as my squire, you’re the best hostage against my good behavior. And May looks like my changeling sister. I’ve been careful not to say that she wasn’t, although the false Queen knows, so we can’t discount the possibility that Rhys does as well. Either way, she’s clearly family, which makes her a good hostage, too.”

“And as your family, I command you to give me your dress,” said May, sliding off the bed and holding out her hand.

I blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“You said Rhys wanted to take you apart. Have you noticed that he has an army of alchemists, including Walther’s sister, ready to do his bidding? You can’t just go leaving your blood around like it’s not a big deal. Give me your dress. Give me everything that has blood on it.” May continued to hold out her hand. “I’m going to make sure it can’t be used against you.”

“I can take you to a proper laundry, if you would like, rather than run the risk that Rhys will save and reuse your wash water,” said Tybalt calmly. “We have need to go into Portland regardless.”

I turned to look at him. “Is that where you went? To Portland?”