Chimes at Midnight

“You kept feeding me,” he said, relief evident in his voice. If I was still making jokes, however bad, there was still a chance that things would be all right.

My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. I put a hand across it, trying to be subtle, and turned my attention back to Mags. “If you want to help, we’re happy to have you. Keep looking for anything about curing goblin fruit, or at least mitigating its effects for extended periods. And if you happen to find a convenient map to the hope chests of the world, I’d love to see it.”

“All right,” said Mags. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”

“Great. We look forward to hearing from you.” There wasn’t anything else to say—I couldn’t thank her—and we had far too much to do. I turned, beckoning for Quentin to walk with me. Tybalt turned as well, pacing us as we walked out of the Library to the bookstore.

The transition was just this side of painful, like walking through a curtain made of Pop Rocks. I stopped, gasping a little. Tybalt put a hand on my shoulder to steady me, looking alarmed.

“October?” he asked.

“Toby?” asked Quentin.

I bit my lip before I could snap at them. In that moment, I saw my future if I couldn’t fix this. My allies—my best friends, my family, the people I loved more than anything else—would never adjust to me being this breakable. They’d treat me like I was made of glass until we could change the balance of my blood. Maybe they were right to feel that way. Humans without protectors have never had much of a life expectancy in Faerie. It still made me want to scream.

“Quentin, why don’t you go let Danny know we’re almost ready?” I asked.

“Okay . . .” said Quentin, frowning as he looked from me to Tybalt and back again. I raised an eyebrow. He went.

Tybalt removed his hand from my shoulder as the bookstore door swung shut behind my squire. “You’re . . . unhappy,” he said, cautiously.

“True, but that’s not why I sent Quentin away.” I sighed, raking my hands back through my hair. “Tybalt. I need you to do something for me. It’s something you’re not going to like, and I’m sorry about that. It’s still important.”

His expression went blank, features smoothing out until, for a moment, he looked like the impassive King of Cats who used to lurk in alleys for the sole purpose of annoying me. “You are going to attempt to send me away,” he said. “What in this world or any other could convince you to try something so foolish?”

“Tybalt, please.”

“Did you fail to notice that the last time I allowed myself to separate from you, you wound up in your current condition? Why would I step aside and allow the chance that something even worse might happen? It is too dangerous. No. I refuse.”

“Tybalt!”

My voice was impossibly loud in the tight confines of the bookstore. He stopped talking. Even through the gloom, I saw his eyes widen.

I took a shaky breath. “We can’t do this.”

“I don’t know what you—”

“Just . . . just listen to me, okay? Tybalt, I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to die on you. But I can’t have you trying so hard to protect me that you won’t even let me tell you what I need. That’s not the relationship we both agreed on. That’s not who you are to me, or who I am to you. We save each other, remember? This isn’t supposed to be one-sided.” I raked my hair back again, harder this time. “I need your help, but you’re so wrapped up in the idea of protecting me that you’re not even letting me explain.”

Tybalt opened his mouth like he was going to protest. Then he stopped, going still for several seconds before he sagged, seeming to grow smaller before my eyes. “You say you can’t have me protecting you. I understand that, I do. But I can’t stand by and let you risk your life. It is already taking everything I have not to carry you to your mother’s tower and lock you inside until we can fix this.”