A Red-Rose Chain

“She will also be set against the Court of Cats, of that I am sure,” said Tybalt. “She cannot raise a hand to me directly, but there are things she could do, if she came back to power. Purebloods have always been fond of controlling mortal legislation. There could be culls of the feral cat colonies, restrictions placed upon the humans who claim to own us, even closures of local shelters and rescue organizations. She could easily destroy my Court, all without crossing the lines that Oberon once drew.”


I glanced at him, startled. What he was saying made sense—so much sense that I had no doubt it was true—but I had never considered it before. Sometimes I can get so wrapped up in Faerie that I forget how dependent we still are on the mortal world, and how many purebloods know how to work it to their advantage. It’s odd how good they are at pulling those strings. These are people who don’t understand telephones or cars or cable television, but if you show them something and say “this makes you powerful,” they’ll figure it out. My liege, Sylvester Torquill, owns enough real estate in the Bay Area to make him a millionaire a dozen times over; his court employs a small army of accountants and investors to keep that money moving and prevent attracting attention. And he’s by no means unique among the truly long-lived.

It’s weirdly easy to underestimate the purebloods, to think that their power ends at the boundaries of their courts. That’s a good way to get into a whole lot of trouble.

“What do you want me to do?” demanded Arden. “I’m painting targets on everyone I care about!”

“Be better,” I said. “That’s what we want from you. We don’t want you to be perfect, and we don’t want you to be above reproach, but we want you to make an effort. We want you to be our Queen.”

Arden looked at us both for a long moment. Then she turned to look at the little living space behind her. Everything was still there, except for the carved redwood wardrobe that had once dominated an entire side of the room. She must have moved that to Muir Woods as soon as she got settled there. The wardrobe had belonged to her mother. It made sense that she would want it with her. But the rest—the television, the small rack of videos, the ancient, roughly-constructed bunk bed—were all still in their places.

“It was simpler when I lived here,” she said. “I kept Nolan from getting covered in cobwebs. I made coffee when I worked at the café, and sold books when I worked at the bookstore. Jude and Alan were always nice to me. I miss them. I miss knowing that as long as I did my job and kept my head down, they would have my back. I miss Ripley. I miss my life. You know that’s what you took away from me, right? You took away my life.”

“We gave you back the life that was supposed to be yours all along.” I shook my head. “Change sucks. No one’s going to argue about that. Change is hard and painful and sometimes we wind up losing things we wanted to keep forever. You can’t go back to the life you had when you lived here. You made promises. It’s time to keep them.”

Arden looked at me for a moment before looking down at the floor. “Everything got so hard when you showed up.”

“I have a talent for complicating situations,” I said. “Your Highness, will you please return to Muir Woods before poor Lowri has to organize a response to a declaration of war with no one to support her?”

“Yes,” said Arden. “You’re coming with me.”

I had been expecting that. I still raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why?”

“Because you put your hands on me without permission, and that means you have to be punished,” said Arden. There was a smile in her voice that unnerved me as she continued, “Don’t worry. I know exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

She lowered her arms before raising one hand and tracing a circle in the air. The smell of blackberry flowers and redwood bark rose as the portal opened, showing the entry hall at her knowe in Muir Woods. “If you would come with me?” she said.

When a Queen tells you to come with her, there isn’t much room for argument. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pushed the button for Quentin’s number. When he answered, I didn’t wait for him to say anything: I just said, “Bring the car to Muir Woods,” and hung up, putting the phone away again. Taking a deep breath, and with Tybalt beside me, I walked through the portal, and toward whatever punishment my loyalty had earned me.





FOUR