The Winter Long

“That was thoroughly unpleasant, and I apologize most profusely for nearly getting us both killed,” he said.

“The highway was a nice trick,” I said agreeably, leaning over to brush the snow out of his hair. “How are you feeling? Heart still beating, not going to drop dead on me again?”

“No, I think not,” he said. There was a thudding sound, accompanied by a yelp, as if two teenage boys had just been dropped into the same snowbank. Tybalt’s glower faded, replaced by amusement. “It sounds as if our respective charges have also arrived safely.”

“Thank Oberon for that,” I said fervently, and stood, scanning the snow-choked landscape for a sign of the boys.

We had clearly landed in Sylvester’s demesne: the snow was proof enough of that, since no one else I knew was currently hosting a winter wonderland. Trees stood all around us, gray-trunked with translucent blue leaves that looked like they would melt if I so much as touched them. There was a heap of snow near the base of one of the nearby trees. As I watched, two heads poked up out of it, both frosted with snow, one bronze-topped and one russet. I waved. Quentin pulled his arm out of the snow and waved back.

“We’re not far from the knowe,” I said, turning to offer Tybalt my hand. He took it, pulling himself easily out of the snow. “We should be able to walk to the back door from here, which is good, since I’m freezing.”

“Perhaps the household staff can equip you with something better suited to the season, or at least warmer,” said Tybalt.

“I’d settle for not having half the Pacific freezing against my back, really.” Quentin and Raj were out of their snowbank and tromping across the clearing toward us. Quentin scooped a handful of snow off the ground without pausing. I raised my hand. They both stopped, blinking at me. “Drop it.”

“What?” said Raj.

Quentin sighed and let his handful of snow fall back to the ground. I nodded.

“I know, I never let you have any fun,” I said. “But look at it this way: he would have screamed bloody murder when you put that down his back, and then we would have been explaining things to Sylvester’s guards.” Probably including Etienne, which would make it a reasonably easy explanation. It would still take too much time. “You can start a snowball fight with Raj later, okay?”

“Okay,” said Quentin.

“Wait, what?” said Raj.

“Both of you, come on.” I turned, trying not to shiver as I gestured for them to follow me out of the woods and into the gardens that stretched behind Sylvester’s knowe.

Nothing moved but us as we made our way through the silent woods, our feet crunching in the snow. Even Tybalt and Raj couldn’t keep themselves from making noise as they walked, which was almost a relief, given the circumstances. We reached the woods’ edge and continued on, into the frozen gardens. The hedge maze was a skeletal outline, easier than ever to navigate now that it kept no secrets for itself. The rosebushes Simon had visited to gather my warning bouquet were still in full bloom when we passed them, seeming no worse off for having been inexpertly pruned.

“Let me lead from here,” I said quietly, moving to walk a few feet ahead of Tybalt. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that I’d be the first person any member of the staff saw. That might buy us time to explain what we were doing, and why we hadn’t come in via the front door.