Chimes at Midnight

“I know that too, and I love you for it.” Tybalt’s hand landed on my shoulder. I straightened, turning to face him. It didn’t matter that I was naked and he wasn’t; he didn’t need to be naked to make my knees go weak, especially when he was smiling at me like I was all that mattered in the world. Still smiling, he leaned forward and kissed me.

I’ll never get used to kissing Tybalt. More, I’ll never get used to being allowed to kiss Tybalt, to it being a normal part of my life that I’m not supposed to think twice about. I leaned into him, reveling in the heat of his skin and the sweetly musky pennyroyal taste of his lips. He put a hand on my upper arm, pulling me toward him, and I raised my own hand to touch his cheek, letting my eyes close. This was real; this was really happening.

This was why I had to see the Queen. Because for my life to be a calm enough place to allow for moments like this one, I needed her to be doing her goddamn job. I couldn’t take care of the goblin fruit problem without her.

“Love you, too,” I murmured, as he pulled away from me.

I opened my eyes to the sight of Tybalt’s smile. “I’ll never tire of hearing you say that.” He let go of my arm. “Please allow me to help with the laces on your gown when you’re ready.”

“Gladly.” The moment over, I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed between us.

I showered quickly—something that wouldn’t have been possible if Tybalt hadn’t gone back into the bedroom; I was angry and worried, not dead—and dried my hair with a towel as I walked back to meet him. He had the dress unlaced and ready to lower over my head.

It fit like it had been made for me, which technically, it had been. Tybalt laced me into it, pulling the bodice so tight that I couldn’t have concealed anything in my cleavage if I’d wanted to. I squeaked in protest, and he kissed the side of my neck before giving the laces one last tug and saying, “If you appear to have suffered in the name of fashion, she will respect you all the more for your efforts. You are stunning. Now you only need to do something with your hair, and you’ll be the prettiest potential accuser at the ball.”

“I feel like a giant Barbie.”

“I do not become romantically involved with plastic people,” said Tybalt dryly.

“That makes me feel much better.” I turned to kiss him, planting both hands flat on his chest to keep the gesture from turning into anything more involved. “Can you get my ankle sheath? It’s on the dresser.”

“Certainly.” As he turned to find it, he asked, “Have you considered how to make your entrance without soaking your skirts?”

The entrance to the Queen’s knowe required us to pass through a frequently semi-flooded cave. My gown was floor-length. “Maeve’s tits,” I swore. “I’m going to get drenched. Again.”

“Not necessarily.” He smiled as he turned to offer my sheath. “The Queen of the Mists is required by treaty to allow the Court of Cats entry through the Shadow Roads. I believe it would cement me as the target of her frustrations if I were kind enough to allow you to shortcut her watery pranks for the evening.”

I blinked, and then grinned. “You’re brilliant. Can Quentin pass through the shadows too, or does he have to wade?”

“I believe I can transport you both a short distance.” He sighed as he watched me strap on the sheath. “You’re intending to drive to the beach, aren’t you?”

“I’m not comfortable when I haven’t got my car. Besides, you said yourself that you could transport us both a short distance. We’re close to the Queen’s knowe, but we’re not that close.” I grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser, beginning to brush the snarls out of my wet hair. It was slow going. As I worked, I offered, “You could meet us there, if you’d rather?”

Tybalt paused before sighing again. “I think that might be best, since I’m sure whatever misadventure we’re about to embark on will require me to spend more time in that damnable contraption. I should save my tolerance for a time when there won’t be a better choice.”

“That seems wise.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail.