Chimes at Midnight

Quentin gave me a dubious look. “You were never in charge of the knowe. You borrowed it from the pixies. How do you know they didn’t move the door?”


“Shut up.” I grabbed one his hands and one of Tybalt’s, pulling them along as I stepped off the edge of the cliff. The world did a brief twist and roll around us, as disorienting as a carnival hall of mirrors, and then we were standing in the knowe’s main hall with our knees slightly bent to absorb an impact that had never come. Quentin pulled his hand out of mine and straightened, fussily smoothing his hair. Tybalt did almost the same thing on my other side. I stifled a smile as I straightened in turn and looked around the hall.

I only held Goldengreen for a few months, after the Queen of the Mists essentially tricked me into taking it. During that time, we’d started the process of cleaning up and restoring the place, transforming it from Evening’s sterile stronghold into something more welcoming. Dean had continued that process since I’d ceded the knowe to him. The last of Evening’s furnishings and ornaments were gone, replaced by potted trees whose branches were alive with pixies. A rug patterned with golden primroses on a green background stretched the length of the hall, and steadily gleaming lights filled the chandeliers.

The walls were softened with tapestries showing scenes from both Undersea and San Francisco fae history. The one nearest where I stood showed Lily, the Lady of the Tea Gardens, preparing a tea service for my mother. I put a hand over my mouth as I looked at it.

Lily was the last of Oleander’s victims. I miss her every day.

“Toby? What are you wearing?”

We all turned toward the voice. Marcia, the Seneschal of Goldengreen—my only formal appointment as Countess, and one Dean had been more than willing to retain—was standing in the nearest doorway, a dishtowel in her hands, staring at us. She had fae ointment smeared around her eyes, allowing her to see through illusions. It was necessary; without the stuff, she wouldn’t be able to see half of Faerie, including the pixies that plagued her on a daily basis.

I lowered my hand, forcing a smile. “Hey, Marcia. I just came from the Queen. Is the Count in? I need to ask him for a favor.”

“Toby!” She slung the dishtowel over her shoulder as she ran over and hugged me hard. Then she hugged Quentin in much the same way. Tybalt didn’t get a hug, but he did get a smile and a small curtsy. Only when that was finished did she say, “The Count’s in. He’ll be thrilled to see you. I think he’s pretty much bored out of his skull, but he’s being too noble and stupid to say anything.”

I laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Marcia. Let’s go save the bored.”

“Your noblest endeavor yet,” said Marcia, gesturing for us to follow her to the central courtyard.

Goldengreen’s courtyard was probably intended to host genteel entertainments and noble proclamations. It had been somewhat repurposed by its current inhabitants, who had converted it into a tiered garden, complete with trees, flowers, and beds of moss. Tree frogs chirped from somewhere high overhead as we entered. I looked up into the branches. No frogs, although I did see a bogey scurrying through the canopy, currently shaped like a spider the size of a terrier.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said, looking down again. “I mean, we planted, but you’ve grown.”

Dean Lorden, Count of Goldengreen, blinked as he raised his head from the book he’d been reading. Then he grinned, standing. “Sir Daye! I didn’t know you were going to visit today!” His attention switched to my squire. “Quentin. You’re looking well.”