My mouth was already open: I had to say something. “What did you do with my laundry?”
“Oh, is that what the Fetch was carrying? It has been destroyed. We don’t allow dangerous alchemical materials to be left lying around where anyone could get to them.” Rhys looked at me, challenging me to call him a liar.
He was a liar. I knew that, as sure as I knew that I couldn’t prove it. There was no way he’d been handed a bag of my blood and decided that it should just be thrown away—not when he’d been so eager to get his hands on it. Maybe it would be better straight from the source, but that didn’t make my blood-soaked clothing worthless.
“I see,” I said. I looked at him. He looked back, utterly calm. The bastard was practically smirking, he was so delighted to have the upper hand. And there was nothing I could do about it. “I will see to my own people’s comfort, and my sister will be returning to the Mists with us when this is done. If you will excuse me, I must prepare my remaining retinue for dinner.”
“You will tell me before you venture back into the city, will you not, Sir Daye?” Rhys’ voice was mild, but not so mild that I couldn’t recognize the command it contained. “I would hate for this to happen again. Your King of Cats, of course, is free to come and go as he wishes—I wouldn’t want to restrict another monarch in his movements—but it’s safer for the rest of you if you make sure I am aware of your movements.”
“Yes, Sire,” I said. I bowed, as shallowly as I could without giving offense. “May we go?”
“Yes,” said Rhys. This time, he didn’t bother hiding his smile. He had won. He knew it, and so did I.
I turned, Quentin close behind me, and left the receiving room as quickly as I dared without seeming to run from the presence of a sitting King. The false Queen did not reappear. The courtiers tittered and pointed after us, their laughter following our exit, until the doors had slammed on our heels and we were alone in the hallway. Mostly alone: Rhys’ men were still there, flanking the door and watching us with narrow, wary eyes.
“Come on,” I said, unable to stem the growing feeling of dread in my stomach. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” asked Quentin.
I had to force my next words out. Each one was a rock against my teeth. “We have to get ready for dinner.” I’m sorry, May, I thought. We still have to play his game. I’m so sorry.
Quentin looked at me and nodded. Together, we walked back down the hall toward the stairs that would take us to our room. We were in deep trouble, and getting deeper all the time—and, Oberon help me, I had no idea how I was going to get us out of this one.
I had no idea at all.
SEVENTEEN
WITHOUT MAY, GETTING ME ready for dinner was a much simpler, much less elegant process. I pulled a dress from the wardrobe, checked to make sure it didn’t have any visible bloodstains, and retreated to the bathroom to put it on. Tybalt had seen me naked often enough not to care, but I didn’t feel like stripping down in front of Walther and Quentin. I emerged from the bathroom as Quentin was vanishing into his own room to put a clean vest on, and blinked at the sight of Tybalt, already in a clean jerkin, shirt, and black leather trousers, sitting on the bed next to May’s unmoving form.
“How the hell did you get changed faster than me?” I demanded. “Those pants look painted on.”
“I will never reveal my secrets, save to remind you that I have been an actor in my day, and sometimes the turns between scenes are very tight.” Tybalt’s voice was forcedly light, like he was trying to sound like his old, unconcerned self.
“Right.” I walked over to where he was sitting and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of his head, between the black stripes that marked his otherwise brown hair. “Walther, what’s the situation with you? Are you coming to dinner?”
He shook his head. “No. I figure most of Rhys’ men will be there, so I’m going to sneak out to see Aunt Ceres, see if she can’t help me get those roses. Once I can start testing them against the elf-shot that was used on May, we’ll be able to find out pretty quickly whether or not I’m going to be able to come up with a counter.”
“You will,” I said. “I know you will.” I wasn’t as sure as I was trying to sound. I couldn’t imagine a world where Walther failed. May was . . .
May was my sister. She was a part of our family, and there was no way we were going to leave her asleep for the next hundred years. Even if I could justify it to myself, there was no way I could explain the situation to Jazz. “Sorry I took your girlfriend off and got her elf-shot” wasn’t a conversation I had ever wanted to have.
“Here’s hoping,” said Walther. He leaned back and offered me a wry smile. “You look lovely. Finally, we know what it takes to get you into a dress several times in a row.”
“This is just reinforcing my belief that dresses are a form of torture,” I said flatly. I was wearing the silver spider-silk gown that I had previously worn to Arden’s Yule Ball, back before there had been any whisper of the possibility of war. That hadn’t been a perfect night—they so rarely were—but it had been a better one than this.
“It is difficult to believe we’ve been here for such a short period of time,” said Tybalt. He slid off the bed, offering me his arm. I took it automatically, moving more on autopilot than anything else. He smiled, just a little. “Indeed, if we can bring about a kingdom’s downfall in less than a week, I feel sure Arden will give you some sort of reward.”
“Yeah, like a plane ticket to someplace really far away from the Mists,” said Quentin, emerging from his room. “Maybe a nice tropical island.”
“With our luck, the nice tropical island would be filled with dinosaurs,” I said dryly.
“Still less annoying than what we’re dealing with here,” said Quentin.
“Sad but true.” I paused, pulling my hand away from Tybalt’s arm. “We need to walk to the dining room. Arriving through the shadows makes us look too dependent on Tybalt to do everything for us.”
“Twice you reject me, in quick succession,” said Tybalt. “Truly, my heart is broken.”
“Don’t break so fast. I need you to do me a favor.”
Tybalt raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“The route from here to the dining room is pretty straightforward. Quentin and I aren’t going to get lost if we start walking on our own. Can you take Walther to Ceres? It’s not that I don’t trust you to sneak out, Walther,” I hastened to add. “It’s that Rhys has eyes everywhere, and I’d rather be safe than sorry right now.”
Walther nodded. “That’s actually a good idea. We’ll have to leave May here, but if Tybalt wards the door from the outside, opening it becomes an act of aggression against the Court of Cats. I think we can trust Rhys not to be that stupid—yet. He may get worse once he’s backed into a corner.”
“So we make sure we don’t do that until we’re ready to go in for the kill,” I said, as reasonably as I could manage.
Tybalt sighed. “You are bound and determined to get yourselves killed. Yes, I will take Walther to his aunt, but only if you promise to be careful in walking out without my company to protect you. If you reach the dining hall before I return, you must not go in. That is what I will ask of you, in exchange for my forbearance in this matter. Are we in agreement?”
“Yes, we are,” I said. “I doubt we’ll beat you there, but if we do, we’ll wait.”
“I am a man beset by devils of my own making,” grumbled Tybalt. “Well, Sir Alchemist? Are you ready to call upon your aunt and change the world? Because I am ready to have this errand set and done.”