A Red-Rose Chain

“Two,” said Quentin. “It might be a good idea to tell Madden to go back over there before tomorrow night, to make sure none of them were wounded and went to ground. But I don’t think any of them were. They were all pretty dedicated to attacking us.”


“I listened for the sound of pups hidden in the high grass,” added Tybalt. “No such sounds came to me. I believe we found them all.”

“That’s good,” said Arden. “They were becoming a nuisance.”

“They just needed someone to tell them they weren’t alone,” I said. That wasn’t an uncommon situation, in Faerie. For every Court like Arden’s, which welcomed changelings and shapeshifters as well as the more “courtly” members of the fae, there were three Courts like the former Queen’s. She had run a very formal house. No changelings unless they were servants; no shapeshifters, because she didn’t allow animals around her nice things. The Mists had been losing good people since that woman took the throne, driven away by her insistence on a form of courtliness that had no bearing on the modern world. Arden was starting to get some of those people back, but it was going to take a long time before the Kingdom had fully recovered.

“They’re not alone now,” Arden said. “Madden and his family will take good care of them until we can figure out a permanent place—and Mauthe Doog used to be popular companions among the Tuatha de Dannan. I may be able to settle them here at my Court, depending on how well they remember their time with my people.”

“That would be excellent,” I said. Tybalt made a face. I laughed and elbowed him lightly in the side. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get a puppy.”

“I should certainly hope not,” he said stiffly.

“Actually, while you’re both here, there was something I was hoping to talk to you about.”

Arden’s words were casual, but if there was one thing I’d learned in my years of dealing with the nobility, it was that nothing that included the phrase “I was hoping to talk to you” was ever as casual as it seemed. Tybalt and I exchanged a look. Quentin winced, looking wary.

She was my Queen. Tybalt belonged to a different political structure and Quentin was going to outrank her someday. Swallowing my sigh, I turned to face her, and said, “Yes, Your Highness?”

To my surprise, Arden groaned. “You know, sometimes being the Queen isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I don’t want to give you an order or send you on a quest or make your lives harder, I swear. I just want to ask you a favor, and have you really think about it before you answer either way. I don’t want you to say ‘yes’ and hate me, and I don’t want you to say ‘no’ before you’ve heard me out. All right?”

“All right,” I said, more slowly. “What’s up?”

“I would like you to consider choosing Muir Woods as the site of your wedding,” said Arden.

I stared at her. Tybalt stared at her. Arden reddened.

“I know, I know, we need a better name for this place, but I feel silly saying ‘the Court of Windermere,’ which is what my father called it, and I can’t go the easy route and call it ‘Mists,’ because this whole Kingdom is the Mists and right, sorry. Babbling. I don’t do it often, but when I do, I can win valuable prizes.” Arden shook her head. “Look. October, you’re a hero of the realm. You mean something to people around here.”

“Yeah, I mean they’re about to get in trouble,” I said.