A Red-Rose Chain

“I tried,” I said. “She’s pretty set on the idea. I think she’s trying less for ‘Toby goes to Silences, smooths everything out, hooray,’ and more for ‘Toby infuriates them so badly that they can’t remember which end of the sword to use.’ It’s a terrible plan.”


“I don’t know,” said May. “I was a diplomat once—well, a couple of times, but only once that I really remember. Super-annoying ambassadors have their place, too. Sending someone you know the other side will hate keeps them from being too comfortable during the negotiations, while also letting them know that they can’t just dismiss your emissary. If they do, you can claim that they never really wanted to work in good faith, and that justifies burning a lot more stuff down.”

“And in the meantime, Arden and Lowri can get together with the local nobles and come up with a plan for getting through the war alive, if it actually happens,” I said. Before she became a Fetch, May was a night-haunt, one of the dark secrets of Faerie. They eat the dead, and because memory is hidden in the blood, they take on the faces of their meals. The night-haunts remember things that happened to people who they never really were. “If you were a diplomat, you died. How did you die?”

“Um. Poison once, and I sort of got stabbed the other time.” May’s cheeks reddened. “Maybe that wasn’t as encouraging as I wanted it to be.”

“No, it was totally encouraging, if you’re encouraging me to get stabbed.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I need to call the Luidaeg. She’s going to be pissed at me for finding a new way to try to get myself killed, but maybe she can give me some advice.”

“Pretty sure her advice will be ‘don’t go,’” said Jazz.

I chuckled bitterly. “Pretty sure you’re right.”

May pushed her chair back from the table, standing. “I’ll go pack.”

“Uh, what?” I stared at her. “No, you will not. Sit your butt back down. You’re staying here.”

May raised one eyebrow, an expression so familiar that I didn’t need to wonder what it meant. “I’m sorry, but it sounds like you just told me to stay here in the Mists while you run off to Silences to get yourself killed. Is there a planet where that would work? I’d love to visit there sometime, just to see what it’s like.”

“We’re on that planet,” I said firmly. “Sit back down. I need you to stay here.”

“Because . . . ? Seriously, Toby, I want to know why you think leaving your indestructible, incredibly useful sister behind is a good idea. I won’t lie, I’m not feeling it.” May crossed her arms and glowered at me. “I should be with you on this one. I have actual experience.”

“You have someone else’s experience,” I said. “You’ve told me yourself that most of your memories come from either me or Dare, since we were the last two people you shared blood with as a night-haunt. We color everything you remember. Neither one of us was ever what you’d call a diplomat.” I’d improved since the cutoff point between May’s memories and my real life—I hadn’t been given much of a choice—but the woman I’d been when May tasted my blood and took my face had never been forced to learn how to rein herself in. That woman was long dead, thankfully, buried under the weight of the experiences I’d had since then, but part of her lived on, in May.

“And? You have to take backup with you, or we’re getting you back in a box.”

“I’m going to call home and see whether my parents want me to go with Toby,” said Quentin, walking over and handing me the plate with my sandwich. “I’m going to do that now.” He waved to May and Jazz as he walked out of the kitchen, presumably to make his phone call someplace that was more private, and maybe quieter. The fact that he’d be out of the blast radius was nothing but a bonus.