A Red-Rose Chain

I stared at him. “What?”


“Queen Windermere is here,” said Walther. “The Queen of Silences contacted the Queen in the Mists this morning to rescind the declaration of war, and ask for help in rebuilding this Kingdom. Queen Windermere arrived an hour ago.”

I kept staring at him. “What?”

He smiled, looking a little frayed around the edges. “I didn’t wake you up first, remember? I started with my mother, and then moved on to the rest. You actually took longer, because every time you pulled yourself toward mortal, I had to back off. Aunt Siwan is back on her throne, with Uncle Holger beside her. It’s going to be a while before they’re comfortable. They’ll have time.”

“And . . . and Quentin?”

“Your young squire has been getting to know the younger people of Silences, and reporting back on what he learns,” said Tybalt. “He has been invaluable to the cause of knowing who might yet turn against the throne, and who is simply relieved to see Rhys the bastard gone at last.”

This time, when I swept the blankets aside, Tybalt let me. He rose as I did, offering me his arm. I took it. My whole body felt too light, like the center had been pulled out of things. “Is there a robe or something I could borrow? I think I need to eat before I get dressed.”

“You didn’t have to get out of bed for that,” said Walther.

“No, but I have to get out of bed to see Rhys and the false Queen.” He frowned at me. I shook my head. “I need to see them. I need to know that they’re asleep.” I needed to know that Tybalt hadn’t responded to my loss of consciousness by killing them both.

Tybalt clearly understood the reasons for my insistence. He folded his hand over mine and said nothing, only joined me in looking at Walther, who sighed.

“You’re not content unless you’re running yourself to death, are you?” he asked. “All right. Follow me.”

The difference in the knowe was apparent the moment we left my rooms. There were people, for one thing, moving here and there with quick purpose. Some of them were stripping tapestries off the walls; others were installing golden filigree in holes and corners that had clearly been designed to hold those specific ornaments. Everything smelled of yarrow and roses, a perfume that was explained by the vases of fresh flowers that had appeared on every flat surface that wasn’t the floor.

A few curious glances were cast at me and Tybalt, but people were polite enough not to stare. Walther, on the other hand, got blatant pointing, and even a brief round of applause. His cheeks reddened. He kept walking.

“I’ve told everyone that this is on you as much as it’s on me,” he said, voice pitched low. “You took out Rhys; you confirmed the roses I needed; you gave yourself up to buy me time. But they keep insisting that I’m their savior.”

“I don’t mind if someone else is the hero for a change,” I said. “I’m just glad I’m not going to be asleep for the next hundred years.”

“You are not alone in that,” said Tybalt.

I squeezed his hand, and kept walking.

We were descending a flight of stairs when a voice from behind me shouted “Toby!” I turned in time to see Quentin racing toward us, and braced for impact. Tybalt even let go of my hand, moving to position himself just below me. My squire slammed into me, knocking me back a half-step; Tybalt caught us both, saving me from needing to do anything but return Quentin’s embrace. I held him tight. He held me tighter. That was our relationship, in a nutshell.

When he finally pushed me away, it was to look me critically up and down, and proclaim, “You’ve lost weight.”