The Winter Long

“Sylvester will forgive me for intruding on his private quarters,” I said. “I’m not so sure he’d forgive me for bringing company. Will you wait out here, and trust that I’m not going to find a way to get myself killed while I’m waking the Duke?” Assuming it was Sylvester in there, and not his brother. I had every confidence that if I screamed, my boys would come for me.

“You’re planning to wake a man who once defeated an entire Goblin army with a sword, despite his arm having been broken in an earlier engagement,” said Tybalt dryly. “I believe waking the Duke is an excellent way to get yourself killed, should you startle him.”

“Then I’ll do my best not to startle him,” I said.

Tybalt sighed. “We will wait here.”

“Good. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve told Sylvester what’s going on.”

I turned to the gate. It looked delicate, like I could have peeled it off the wall with one hand. Appearances can be deceiving. This was one of the few doors in the knowe that was supposed to be locked to anyone who hadn’t been formally invited to use it, and the enchantment that was woven into the metal of the gate itself did a pretty good job of enforcing that restriction. Gently, I reached out and rested my fingers on the latch.

“Hey,” I said. I was speaking to the knowe, and not to either of my companions. In Faerie, sometimes, intent is everything. “It’s me, October. I really need to see Sylvester. It’s important. I know you’re only supposed to open for family, but he is my family, just not by blood. Will you please let me in?”

The latch turned under my hand, and the door swung inward of its own accord, dispersing the seemingly solid wall like it was mist and revealing a small, circular garden under a deep purple Summerlands sky. I glanced back at Tybalt and Quentin, flashing them what I hoped was a reassuring smile, before stepping through the gate onto the cobblestone garden path. I heard the gate swing shut behind me, and when I turned to look, there was nothing there but an ivy-covered garden wall.

“Right,” I said, and turned again, starting down the path.

Some of Luna’s gardens were showy and elaborate, intended to serve as living jewels in the crown of Shadowed Hills. This garden was private, and its design supported that. The only flowers were roses, and they were more subdued than the riotous flowers that grew elsewhere in the knowe. Most of them were striated in yellow and blue, the colors of the Duchy itself. Marble benches ringed the garden, allowing for quiet contemplation. There were several cobblestone walking paths, including the one that I was on. They came together to circle a decorative fountain before they branched out, leading to smaller, freestanding silver gates.

This was only the third time I’d been in this part of the knowe. The first time, I’d been coming to warn Sylvester about an attempt on Luna’s life, and I’d been elf-shot for my troubles, nearly dying on the cobblestones I was walking along. I looked down, trying to find traces of the trauma in the stones under my feet. It wasn’t there. Even when I breathed deeply, looking for traces of the blood, it wasn’t there. There was no sign that anything bad had ever happened here. But I remembered, and I walked a little faster as I tried to outpace that memory.

If I remembered correctly, the gate to my right would lead to Rayseline’s quarters. I turned left, walking up to the gate and stopping, unsure how to proceed. “I don’t suppose there’s a doorbell somewhere on this thing, is there?” I asked, only half rhetorically. The gate didn’t answer me. I sighed and reached for the handle.