“Come on, you two,” I said. “Let’s see if we can find the kitchen and get a replacement dinner.”
We walked along the silent hall, Karen still holding my hand, Quentin following slightly behind us, like he was guarding the rear. It would have been nice, if not for the omnipresent fear that we’d be found and dragged back to the banquet hall. I was pretty sure Arden was letting the nobles shout themselves into exhaustion. Her years working retail at the bookstore must have taught her a few things about crowd control.
The hall ended in a redwood door carved with moths. We stopped, looking at each other, before I shrugged and pushed the door open, revealing a small balcony. Three tables were set up there. One held three plates of spaghetti and meatballs, a large basket of bread, and a pitcher of what looked like sparkling lemonade. Raj was already seated in one of the chairs, slurping down spaghetti like it was about to be made illegal.
The second table had no occupants, but held a wide assortment of desserts. The third had a large tea tower covered in sandwiches, scones, and small, savory pastries. All three of us stopped again, this time blinking at the scene in front of us.
“As it turns out, no one takes offense when a King of Cats declares the anger of the Divided Courts to be misaimed and leaves until they can stop acting like children,” purred a voice behind me. “Or perhaps they do take offense, and simply don’t bother to say anything, as I’m not worthy of being scolded by my betters. Regardless, the kitchen staff sends their regards, and hopes you’ll enjoy your meal.”
I dropped Karen’s hand as I turned. Tybalt was behind me. He offered a small, almost shy smile, revealing the pointed tip of one incisor.
“Did you miss me?” he asked.
I punched him in the arm.
Tybalt raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He looked past me to Quentin. “Did she miss me?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s going to murder you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to help.”
“Ah.” Tybalt sighed as he returned his attention to my face. “I told you I couldn’t arrive with you. I told you I had to stand as a King, and not as an accessory to one of their own.”
“Funny,” I said. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t going to speak to me for a week beforehand. I figured you’d have to ignore me once we got here, but before? I understand politics, I do, but ash and oak, Tybalt, that was a little much to drop on a girl without some kind of warning.” I punched him again, not as hard this time. My anger was fading, replaced by relief.
To his credit, he bore my unhappiness with a small nod and a mild, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. But there aren’t really precedents for this sort of event. Most Kings of Cats will never have the opportunity to remind the High King of their domain of their existence, much less do so in such a plain and evident fashion.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “Where’s Shade?” Shade was the Queen of Cats who had dominion over the Berkeley area. I’d only met her once, and she’d remained in her feline form for the entire time, but she’d seemed nice enough.
“She’ll be joining us tomorrow, after my nephew has gone home,” said Tybalt, offering me his arm. “Since my domain corresponds to the seat of Arden’s Kingdom, we knew that only I would be welcome at the high table, and it was important I be seated there, to make the point that my Court is an equal partner in this discussion. Shall we sit?”
“We shall,” I said, taking his arm. Quentin and Karen, looking relieved, made for the table where Raj was waiting. I grinned as I watched them go. “It was good of you to make sure the kids got a second dinner.”
“I knew as soon as that man,” Tybalt’s nose wrinkled, “started shouting about mixed-bloods and inheritance that you’d be making your escape sooner rather than later, and further, I knew there was no way you’d go without your charges. Honestly, I’m just relieved you managed to escape without bringing your entire table along.” He took his arm away from mine in order to pull my chair out.
I settled into it, flashing him a quick smile. Tybalt smiled back, his own relief painted clearly across his features. His position had been as bad as mine was, maybe worse: I had to worry about my fiancé rejecting me, but he had to worry about the political status of his entire race. What he did here, he did for all Cait Sidhe, not just for the Court of Dreaming Cats. Maybe he could have handled things better—absolutely he could have handled things better—but I couldn’t blame him for a few small missteps. Just like always, we were standing on uncharted ground.
“How did you arrange all this?” I asked.
He settled into the chair across from mine, picking up the pitcher and pouring us each a glass of dark, faintly fizzing liquid that smelled of blackcurrants and roses. “As I said, the kitchen staff sends their regards. You’re well liked in this court, although I couldn’t for the life of me say why, insufferable creature that you are.”
“I thought you liked me insufferable,” I said, reaching for my glass.
Tybalt put his hand over mine and smiled. There was nothing but fondness in his eyes.
“My dearest October, I adore you insufferable,” he said.
I laughed, and for the first time since this conclave had been announced, I started to feel like things were going to be all right.
EIGHT
WE SPENT AN HOUR or so out on the balcony, eating slowly, enjoying the night air. I was enjoying the absence of the nobility—well, except for Tybalt, Raj, and Quentin, which really meant that I was enjoying the absence of annoying nobility—even more. The teenagers finished their spaghetti and made a raid on our tea tower, taking half the scones back to their table. I threw a wadded-up napkin at them, and they laughed, and everything was perfect.
That alone should have told me it couldn’t last. The air rippled and Sir Grianne of Shadowed Hills was suddenly sitting on the balcony rail. Her Merry Dancers spun in the air around her. Like King Antonio, she was sketched in shades of gray. Unlike him, her skin was ash and her hair was granite, striated in bands of dark and light. Also unlike him, she was wearing simple livery: a tunic in the blue and gold of Shadowed Hills and a sash around her waist in the silver and purple of Arden’s household.
“Grianne,” I said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, like my ignorance was none of her concern. “On loan,” she said.
Candela tend to be short-spoken, preferring to communicate through pulses of light and the motion of their Merry Dancers, the glowing orbs that accompanied them everywhere from birth onward. Grianne exemplified her race. I waited several seconds, and no further details were offered.
Right. “Did you need something?” I asked.
“The conclave is resuming,” she said, her voice thin and reedy as the wind through the trees. “Your presence is requested by the High King.”
“I guess that’s our cue.” I stood. Quentin and Karen did the same. I started to turn toward Tybalt, but stopped as the smell of pennyroyal and musk tickled my nose, carried to me by the light midnight wind. He was already gone. So was Raj. It made sense: they hadn’t left the gallery with us, so they couldn’t exactly return with us without making the declaration of allegiance that Tybalt had been trying so hard to avoid. I understood the necessity, but it still bothered me.
Quentin put a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t have to look down when I turned to meet his eyes. That bothered me, too, but in a different way. He was growing up. He wasn’t going to need me much longer. He already didn’t need me in the way he had, once, when he’d been trying to muddle his way through puberty and I’d been the one who was willing to restock the fridge and let him crash on my couch. Everything was changing, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.