Chimes at Midnight

The man swallowed. I felt almost sorry for him in that moment. It didn’t last. “Yes. You’re correct.”


“Bully for me. Now here’s your answer: I am the sea witch. I am the tide you fear and the turning you can’t deny. I am the sound of the waves running over your bones on the beach, little man, and I am not amused at finding you on my doorstep.” She took a step forward. He took a step back. “I won’t punish you for obeying orders the way she would. But I can’t let an insult go unanswered. You know how it goes.” A smile twisted her lips. “I’m actually grateful. You see, there are . . . rules . . . that govern what I can and can’t do. But you broke them first. Now I get to do something I don’t get to do very often. Now I get to play.”

The man grabbed for his sword. The Luidaeg raised her hand, whispering something I couldn’t hear, and all four of them froze. They stayed that way for several minutes. I knew the Luidaeg was speaking—the wind brought me enough of her voice for that—but not what she was saying. Maybe that was for the best. Finally, she turned and walked back to us.

“That’s done,” she said. “Let’s go to the apartment. It’s a nice morning, but there’s so much traffic on these streets.”

Except for the Queen’s men, we hadn’t seen a soul. “What did you do?”

“Nothing they hadn’t allowed by coming onto my territory. Every soul who came here on the Queen’s business will go home, go to bed, and sleep soundly, dreaming the sweetest of dreams.”

Something about that statement had teeth. I paused, and then ventured, “For how long?”

The Luidaeg smiled brilliantly. “Until something wakes them up. True love, childbirth, and bees are all on the table.”

It seemed grossly unfair. I knew better than to say anything about it. As the Luidaeg was so fond of pointing out, Faerie isn’t fair, and as a punishment, it was entirely in line with what the stories said she’d do. Instead, I just nodded. “Let’s go.”

No one bothered us on the way back to her place. I was unsurprised to see that the illusory mess she created for my benefit was back when she opened the door. “Come in. I don’t have all day.”

“Neither do I,” I said, following her inside. “Did you send me to look for information on King Gilad because you wanted me to start looking for Arden Windermere?”

“You mean Her Highness the Crown Princess in the Mists, even if she wasn’t formally recognized,” said the Luidaeg, and smiled. “Good girl. This way.” She started for the living room. We followed her.

She was already on her knees in front of an old oak sea chest when we got there, throwing things randomly to the floor as she dug them out. “Gilad and his lover never married, because he feared that what had happened to his parents would happen to his wife and children, if he ever publicly acknowledged them,” she said, as soon as we were close enough to hear. “So he hid her, for her own protection, and they raised their children in secrecy. But some of us knew. Some of us had to know.” She looked up and smiled, baring her teeth in a distinctly predatory fashion. “Some of us had to craft the charms that hid them.”

“You told the shallowing in Muir Woods that Arden lived,” I said. “King Gilad’s children survived the earthquake.”

“Yes, but they were in no shape to claim the throne, and by the time they were ready, the pretender was already in place.” She produced a glass flask from the chest. It was small, the sort of thing that used to be sold off the back of snake oil wagons, filled with unidentified tinctures and too dear by half. She gave it a shake as she stood. It lit up from within. “They were tired, and heartsick, and they’d never expected to inherit the Kingdom that way. They walked away.”

“But they did not abdicate,” said Tybalt. “They never renounced their claim to the throne.”