A Red-Rose Chain

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been making many promises. It was time to see whether they could be kept. The local King has agreed to see us. He has already seen me, you understand, but is interested in meeting the woman who could sway me toward marriage. Apparently, our union will settle some sort of bet.” He wrinkled his nose at the end, like this was so unbelievably crass that he didn’t know where to begin.

“Fair enough,” I said. I looked down at my blood-soaked bodice and sighed. “I need help getting out of this, and then we can head for Portland. Quentin, Walther, do you want to come with us? I’m not sure I like the idea of you staying here alone.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Quentin.

“I’m not,” said Walther. The rest of us turned to look at him. He shrugged. “I need to spend more time with Aunt Ceres, and to work on finding that rose. Until I have it, I can’t make any more progress on my counterpotion. I can get to her without having any issues. I know this castle better than the people who currently hold it—I’d be willing to stake my life on it.”

“You will be,” I said grimly. “If you have any trouble, or if Rhys threatens you in any way, run, all right? None of this is worth it if you get yourself killed.”

“Yes, Mom,” he said, and smiled. “Now get yourself cleaned up. You look like a crime scene.”

“That’s how you know I’m feeling like myself,” I said. I walked to the wardrobe, fished out jeans, my leather jacket, and a clean tank top, then started for the bathroom with May close behind me.

It took us five minutes to undo all the stays and ties holding the dress together. There was a bloodstain on the left cup of my bra, but it wasn’t bad enough to make me want a clean one. I had every confidence that it was going to be joined by more before this trip was through. May took custody of the dress as soon as it was peeled from my body.

“Wash the blood off your face,” she said, and left me to get dressed.

The others were waiting when I emerged. May had produced a laundry bag from somewhere, and had it slung over her shoulder. “At least you didn’t get blood in your hair,” she said.

“I’m not a barbarian,” I said.

“Barbarians bleed less, because barbarians know that actions have consequences,” she countered. “Maybe you should try being a barbarian.”

“We’re going to Portland,” I said. “Let’s be hipsters instead.” I turned to Tybalt. “How do you want to do this? Taking three of us through the shadows at once is a lot to ask.”

“You have asked more of me with less cause, and I do not want the local regency to realize that something is happening,” he said. “We are close to the mortal city, all but overlapping its bounds. You will hold fast, and not let go. I will run as fleetly as I may, and together, we will come through the other side, bent and bowed, but nowhere near to broken.”

“You’re nervous, too, huh?” I asked, reaching over to put my hand on his shoulder.

He folded his fingers over it, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss against my knuckles. “I am in a constant state of what you would term as ‘nervousness,’ and it is most often your fault.”

“A girl’s got to be good for something.” I turned to look at Walther, who was standing near the door. “Be careful, okay? You know they’re out to get you, and you know Rhys is a bastard. He’ll do whatever he feels he has to do in order to accomplish his goals.”

Walther smiled slowly. “Lucky for me, I’m as big of a bastard as he is. I just have less reason to show it. Now go. Enjoy Portland. Don’t get yourselves killed.”