Chimes at Midnight

He winced. “Please tell me you’re going to let May do something else with your hair. Something that is not that.”


“What?” I lowered my hands, blinking at him. “You said I should put my hair up.”

“October, in formal settings, there is a world of difference between putting one’s hair up and preparing to go for a run. You have accomplished the latter. You need to accomplish the former if you’re trying not to insult the Queen.”

“I usually just leave my hair down,” I grumbled.

“And you usually manage to insult the Queen in short order. Let’s try this without stacking the deck against you, shall we?” He folded his arms. “Please? For me?”

“You know, everyone warned me that getting into a serious relationship would change me, but I thought they meant my habits, not my hair.” I turned toward the door, stopping when I realized that Tybalt was openly staring at me. “What? What did I say?”

“You think this is a serious relationship?” he asked.

Sudden panic flooded over me. I forced it down, trying to focus on his tone of voice. He’d sounded surprised, not upset. “Yes?” I ventured.

To my immense relief, Tybalt smiled. “Good. So do I.”

“Okay, well, that’s one heart attack out of the way for tonight.” I grabbed my leather jacket from the closet door. “I’ll let May do my hair, since you insist. I’m keeping my sneakers. The gown will hide them until we get there, and I always feel better knowing I can run if I have to.” They’d be high heels as soon as the Queen worked her magic, but that was a problem for later.

Tybalt chuckled. “If things go so badly at Court that you have to run, little fish, then I assure you, footwear will be the least of your concerns.”

I shook my head at him and led the way out of the room, clutching my jacket against my chest. Maybe this was it; maybe she would listen, and stop the goblin fruit from spreading any further. Maybe it’d all be all right after we visited the Queen.

Maybe, but probably not. Unable to shake the feeling that I was somehow heading for my own execution, I walked down the stairs, and into the inevitable.





THREE


TYBALT TAKING THE SHADOW ROADS to the Queen’s Court turned out to be a good thing. He was uncomfortable in the car under the best of circumstances. He would probably have exploded if he’d tried to ride with three people behind him in the backseat, all of them crammed together and complaining. As it was, May and Jazz were able to sit together in comfort, while Quentin rode up front with me, by right of “I’m the squire and besides, you want to ride with your girlfriend.”

“You don’t have to come, you know.” I turned into the parking lot nearest the Queen’s knowe. “You can still back out. Go and see a movie or something, and I’ll fill you in when we’re done.”

“What, and miss all the fun?” May shook her head. “No way. I love bothering the Queen almost as much as I love Saturday morning cartoons.”

“If you say so.” I eyed them in the rearview mirror. “She’ll definitely be bothered.”

Jazz was wearing a purple sari with a feather pattern around the edges that matched the feathered band in her hair. As a skinshifter, her fae nature was bound into that knotted band. May, on the other hand, was wearing a bright pink dress, accessorized with bright green heels and jelly bracelets. It was like playing chauffeur for Jem and the Holograms, only without the convenient excuse of it being the 1980s.

“Why did you get dressed up?” Quentin asked. “Won’t the Queen transform your clothes as soon as you get inside?” He was wearing jeans and a nice button-down shirt, since he wasn’t the one the Queen actively disliked. He was also maintaining a don’t-look-here over the entire car, sparing us from needing individual human disguises. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without a squire.

“Ah, but we’re entering separately,” said May. “We may be spared her merciless fashion sense, in which case, I get to horrify courtiers with my taste in prom gowns.”