The Winter Long

“Of course you did,” I said, with a weak smile. “I just got named a hero of the realm. Like, the actual title accessory pack kind of hero, not just ‘you do heroic things, gold star and try not to die.’”

“You were already a hero of the realm to us,” said my squire. He sounded so sincere that I couldn’t even poke fun at the statement. Not that I wanted to. Quentin and I have been through a lot since Sylvester first tried to use him as an errand boy. I refused the message he was supposed to give me, but I kept the messenger. It’s all part of my larger pattern of picking up strays.

Jazz yawned as she asked, “So are we getting out of here? Please? Because if we’re not leaving, I’m going to go sleep in one of the trees.” She was a Raven-maid, a form of skinshifter, and one of the few diurnal races in the primarily nocturnal landscape of Faerie. Things like Yule were hell on her internal clock.

“We’re leaving,” I said, turning for the exit. We were just in time: I could hear footsteps behind us, signaling the start of the exodus. “Sun’s up, and this is a pretty popular commuting route. If we want to make it home by a decent hour, we need to head out now.”

“Oh, thank Oberon,” said Jazz. “I can sleep in the car.”

My skirt made descending the hiking trail connecting Arden’s knowe to the main park difficult. I gathered it as high as I dared, exposing my calves, knees, and sensible black flats as I picked my way down the side of the mountain. Tybalt took the lead, offering his hand to help me keep my balance. I didn’t object. We’d both been working on accepting help more easily, and it was starting to pay off, at least as far as I was concerned. Jazz nearly fell twice before saying something unpleasant in a language I didn’t know, pulling the feathered band out of her hair, and transforming into a raven. She perched on May’s shoulder after that, and we made the rest of the descent in silence.

“Did everyone have a nice time?” I asked.

“I ate so much sugar that I think I qualify as an annex to Willy Wonka’s factory,” said May.

“I liked eating at the high table,” said Quentin. There was a hint of wistfulness in his tone, matched by a temporary strengthening of his Canadian accent.

It made sense that eating at the high table was something he’d have missed, coming from the family that ruled the entire continent. I flashed him an understanding smile. Quentin smiled back, and we kept walking.

Muir Woods was peaceful this early in the morning, empty of both the human tourists who would fill it in a few short hours and the swirling shadows that Arden and her illusionists had used to dissuade any illicit nocturnal hikers from setting foot inside. The redwoods stretched on toward forever, and everything smelled of sap, fresh running water, and the green.

This time, it was Tybalt who stopped at the edge of the parking lot. “I must return to the Court of Cats,” he said. “My absence from last night’s Yule festivities was forgivable, for it is a great joke for me to be invited to the gatherings of the Divided Courts, but my people need my attention for a time. Will you be well without me?”

“You mean will I pine and die wishing you were there? I think I’ll pass. Although you really owe me that ‘showing me how much you appreciate my choosing you’ thing.” I dropped my skirt and leaned up to give him a quick kiss. He slid his arms around my waist, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss into something more. The taste of pennyroyal and musk lingered on his lips, a sweet reminder of his magic.

“Get a room,” said May, and kept on walking.

I laughed, pulling away from him. “Okay, when my Fetch starts lecturing us on public displays of affection, that means it’s time to stop. I’ll see you tonight?”