A Red-Rose Chain

“Still. Better than I could do.”


Everyone knew that illusions were harder for me than they were for Quentin or May. They were predominantly rooted in flower magic, which descends from Titania, although you can accomplish the same things through a slightly different route if you had access to water magic, which descends from Maeve. Lucky me, I didn’t get either, since the Dóchas Sidhe descended solely from Oberon. If you want blood magic, I’m your girl. If you want an illusion cast quickly and well, I’m really not.

Tybalt—his own face now hidden by a human mask, and the smell of musk and pennyroyal attending him like my favorite cologne—walked over to us and slid one arm around my waist. “Your clothing needs no alteration, as you are always more inclined to dress for the mall than for the presence of Kings.”

I wrinkled my nose as I turned to give his own altered attire a once-over. He looked good in jeans and a flannel work shirt, but let’s be serious here: this was Tybalt I was talking about. He would have looked good in a burlap sack, a sentiment I have expressed before and will no doubt express again, when the opportunity arises. “See, I find that I spend more time grocery shopping and running for my life than I do making nice with royalty.”

Tybalt raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t count,” I said.

“Yeah, because half the time you’re naked when he’s around,” said May, sashaying over to our little cluster. Her face was hidden by a human disguise, but her clothing was still Court finery, making her look out of place and out of time in the dingy little alley. I blinked. She smirked. “This is Portland, honey. They pride themselves on keeping it weird here. I could probably add a pair of bunny ears and a basket full of teddy bears before anyone looked at me twice, and even then, they’d just want to know if I was the Shakespearean Easter Bunny. Trust me, I’ve heard about this town.”

“If you say so,” I said. “Just please don’t get us in more trouble than we’re already in, okay?”

“I won’t.” May turned to Tybalt. “Meet here in two hours? That gives me time to get the laundry done and dry, and maybe do a little shopping. I want to find those food trucks they’re always talking about on TV.”

“I’m going with May,” said Quentin. “Well, I mean, at least until I can find a bus or taxi that will take me to Powell’s.”

“Powell’s?” I asked blankly.

“It’s a bookstore so big it takes up an entire city block. They have a rare books room bigger than the Safeway near the house. I’m going to ship things home, don’t worry.”

I grimaced. “Please. Okay, meet us back here in two hours. That leaves plenty of time for us to change our clothes and get ready for dinner. And be careful, all right? I wouldn’t put it past Rhys to have people out here in the city looking for a chance to get the upper hand. Avoid, I don’t know, empty streets and archery ranges.”

“Will do,” said May. She slung the laundry bag over her shoulder and started for the mouth of the alley. Quentin followed her. I turned to Tybalt.

“Well?” I asked.

“We must walk a short distance, but I assure you, it will be no hardship, for I will be with you,” he said, offering me his arm.

I laughed as I took it. “Wow. Your ego has grown since we’ve known each other, hasn’t it?”