Rosemary and Rue

“Milady?”


“Seriously. When’s the last time you got the chance to just play, without worrying about honor or manners or what you looked like?” I stopped and leaned against the wall, watching the inhabitants of the knowe as they wandered through their day, but more important, watching Quentin. “When’s the last time you didn’t need to worry about whether your friends were purebloods or changelings?”

Quentin hesitated, looking almost uncertain as to whether he should answer. I quirked an eyebrow, and he admitted, “A long time, milady.”

“Do you miss your folks?”

That was the wrong thing to ask: Quentin stiffened, saying, “I wouldn’t distract myself from my duties, milady. If you please, the Duke is waiting for us.”

“Of course.” I pushed away from the wall, smoothing my skirt with the heels of my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of upsetting the Duke, would we?”

Quentin gaped. “Of course we wouldn’t dream of upsetting him! He’s the Duke!”

I frowned. “Okay, work with me here. You’re pureblooded, and unless I’m wrong—and trust me, I’m not—both your parents were Daoine Sidhe. What have you been taught about being pureblooded?” He squirmed, cheeks reddening, and refused to meet my eyes. “Come on, it’s okay; I don’t bite. What did they tell you?”

“That it’s our right and our duty to rule Faerie in the absence of our King and Queens, because the lesser elements need to be kept under control.” It had the air of something learned by rote. It also had a certain spark of sincerity. He might not believe it yet, but he would.

“The lesser elements being?”

“The changelings,” he said, and cringed, obviously waiting for me to fly off the handle.

This reputation I seemed to have developed was starting to be a real drag. “Okay,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “Do I strike you as somebody that needs to be ‘kept under control’?”

“No, milady.”

“Why not?”

“I—you just don’t. That’s all.” He tugged on his sleeve, still squirming. I’d finally found the person under all that inbred arrogance. Good for me. Now I just had to make him listen.

“How about him?” I pointed to a Coblynau half-blood who was chatting up a donkey-tailed maid in front of one of the hall’s many bookshelves. “Does he need to be controlled?”

“No, but . . .”

“Or them?” This time I indicated a pair of Candela walking arm-in-arm down the hall, lost in one another’s eyes, with the glowing spheres of their Merry Dancers in attendance. “Do they need to be controlled? Does anyone here look like they need to be kept ‘under control’?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Right. Let me tell you something: the only reason I worry about upsetting Sylvester is because he’s my friend, and I don’t like upsetting my friends.” Not that you could tell from my recent behavior—but Quentin didn’t know that. “I don’t do it because he’s better than I am, because he’s not. His rank gives him the right to command me, and I recognize that; we’re not living in a democracy. I’ll give him my attention and my courtesy, but that’s because I respect him. I’ve never feared or honored him just because he was the Duke, and I refuse to start doing it now.”

“But . . .”

“Hear me out,” I said, shaking my head. “Shadowed Hills is the most egalitarian duchy I’ve ever visited, and a lot of what makes it like that is the way Sylvester rules. He demands respect for who he is, not what he is. I refuse to see that change if I can help it. Am I making sense?”

Quentin nodded, eyes wide. “I . . . yes.”

“Good. Let’s go see Sylvester.”

“Yes, milady.”

“That’s another thing—my name’s not milady. It’s Toby. I’m not a cartoon dog.”