A Red-Rose Chain

May didn’t say a word. She just pointed after Quentin, her arm stiff and trembling slightly with anger.

“Quentin is my squire,” I said. “It looks stranger if he doesn’t come with me than if he does. No one knows about where he comes from but us, Tybalt, and Arden. Nobody in Silences is going to stand up and say, ‘Hey, that kid looks the way the Crown Prince was rumored to look back before his parents hid him. Let’s take him hostage.’”

“They might,” snapped May. “You’re being stupid. You need to take me with you.”

“I’m already taking Quentin—maybe—and Tybalt,” I said. “Since there’s a good chance Arden will want to send someone with me to keep an eye on things, I’d say the party is about full. Bringing you and Jazz along starts to look like an entourage.”

“Hang on there,” said Jazz, looking suddenly alarmed. “Who said anything about me coming with you? I’m not going with you. I’m staying right here to feed the cats and Spike and not get used as target practice by some Silences archer who thinks ravens make good stew.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, Jazz. I just assumed . . .”

“You can stop assuming, honest. I love May. She’s a big girl. A big, indestructible girl. I am not an indestructible girl. When there’s a war, I stay away from the battlefield until the killing is over and the scavenging begins.” May and I gave her matching appalled looks. Jazz shrugged. “When I’m a woman, I eat Pop-Tarts and vindaloo. When I’m a big black bird, I eat eyeballs and spleens. It’s all part of the glorious contradiction that is me.”

“Ew,” I said.

“She brushes her teeth before I let her kiss me. She brushes her teeth a lot,” said May. She turned back to me, sighed, and said, “I didn’t want to play this card, but here it is. You’re either taking me or you’re taking Stacy. Who would you rather have with you in a dangerous Court? Your roommate who can’t be killed, or your thin-blooded best friend with five kids who depend on her?”

I frowned. “Why would I take either one of you?”

“Because you don’t know how to style your own hair,” said May, with a shrug. “You’re bad at doing makeup, your idea of ‘court formal’ is actually offensive, and you usually look like you forgot how to operate a hairbrush. We’re used to you around here—you’re even sort of endearing, since you’re all ‘local girl made good’ and ‘Duke Torquill’s pet project’—but in Silences? Where they already think of changelings as being inferior to purebloods? You have to be better than you have ever been. Better groomed, better prepared, and better braced for what’s going to hit you. You need a lady’s maid, October. Given your friends, it’s either me or Stacy. Now pick one.”

I stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed and stunned into silence. I had never even considered how I was going to dress for the Court of Silences, or how they were going to judge me on things like how I wore my hair. It was stupid, and shouldn’t have mattered when there was a war on the horizon . . . and May was right. It did matter.

“Go pack your things,” I said finally. “We’re going to get some sleep, and we’ll head for Muir Woods as soon as we wake up. Arden will open a portal to Portland for us. After that, we’re on our own.” I pushed away from the counter, taking my untouched sandwich with me.

“Where are you going?” asked May.

“To call the Luidaeg,” I said. “I figure I may as well let everyone yell at me at once.” I didn’t look back as I walked out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them behind.





FIVE