An Artificial Night

“Once you gave me the candle, it was like they didn’t see me anymore.”


“Good. That means the Luidaeg’s spell doesn’t just cover me; if anything happens, you can take the candle and get home.”

“Not without you,” he said stubbornly, “and not without Katie.”

“Right,” I said, smothering a sigh. There’s nothing more stubborn than youth, with the possible exception of old age. “Still, it’s good to know that you can, if it’s necessary.”

“Are you hurt? You were hurt. I saw.” Quentin twisted around to look at my leg, using the movement to cover his clumsy change of subject. I decided to let it go as I snatched the candle out of his hand. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” I said. “It’s my candle, and I’m fine. Acacia healed me.”

“Acacia?”

“The one you saw carry me away. She healed me and told me where to find you.”

“But why?”

“So we could save the others. Come on. If we follow the trees for a bit, we’ll have a better shot at getting across the plains without being seen.” I started walking, hoping the activity would be enough to kill the conversation, at least for now. If he questioned me too deeply I might tell him what I’d learned about Luna, and that really wasn’t mine to share.

Whatever Acacia was, I knew enough to be worried. I knew she was Firstborn; she was old, possibly as old as the Luidaeg; and she called one of my best friends daughter. The implications of that hurt my head. I tried to remember what little I knew about Luna’s past—where she came from, who she was before I knew her. There wasn’t much. Popular legend says she was waiting when Sylvester came to establish the Duchy of Shadowed Hills, already tending her roses. When he arrived, she smiled and said nothing more complex than “you’ll do.” They were married the day the knowe was opened.

Was there anything else? She’d mentioned her parents once or twice, but she’d never said anything specific about her past. It was always just “I was the youngest, the others were grown when I arrived” or “my mother taught me about roses.” She’d never mentioned Japan, not once, even though the Kitsune were born there. She wasn’t fully Japanese, either; Luna was the only half-Caucasian Kitsune I’d ever seen. Lily served a perfect tea service, but Luna never did. She served rose wine, yes, and milk with honey, but never tea.

“Maeve’s bones,” I muttered. “She never had to lie.”

“What?”

I looked over my shoulder. “Nothing. Just plotting the things I’m going to say to the Luidaeg when we get home.”

“Oh,” he said, drawing up alongside me. “Yeah.”

We walked in silence for a while before I said, “What did she charge you?”

“Charge me?” he asked, sounding too innocent.

“Yes. Charge you.” I kept walking. “The Luidaeg never works for free; I don’t think she can. You said you’d do what I told you to if I let you stay, and I’m telling you to answer me. How did you find her, and what did you pay her?”

“Oh.” The candlelight played across his cheek and forehead, turning him into a ghost out of someone else’s memory. Not mine. For that moment, he wasn’t mine. “I followed you when you left Shadowed Hills.”

“You followed me? How? You don’t drive.”

“I swiped your spare car key while you were on the phone.” He had the good grace to look embarrassed, ducking his head as he said, “I hid in the backseat and cast a don’t-look-here to keep you from seeing me.”

I stopped to stare at him. “You hid in my car so I’d take you to the Luidaeg?” I demanded, following the question with, “You stole my car key?” I wasn’t sure which was pissing me off more.

“Pretty much,” he said, wincing. “I’m sorry.”

“You realize how stupid that was, right?”

“I figured it out. But I didn’t have a choice.”