Chimes at Midnight

“This is a difficult time for the pureblood community. The mortal world encroaches at every side, and we need what escapes we can find. Surely you, with your insistence on diving into every trial and trouble, must recognize that, sometimes, dreams are better.”

“Changelings are dying!” I clapped my hands over my mouth and closed my eyes, the echoes of my shout still ringing through the hall. Conversation around me stopped dead, leaving the rustle of fabric and the pounding of my heart the loudest sounds in the world. Fearfully, I cracked one eye open and looked to the Queen.

She was smiling. Somehow, that was worse than her anger could possibly have been. “Oh, October. Silly little October. Whatever made you think that a few changelings would matter to me? We can always make more.”

I lowered my hands, opening both eyes as I struggled to gather the shreds of my composure. “Goblin fruit is bad for Faerie.” If she was going to let my outburst go unpunished, I was going to try to reason with her. “It kills changelings. Your subjects. It makes even purebloods careless. Our secrecy is too precarious right now. I urge you to reconsider your position, and ban the stuff from the Mists.”

“Mmm,” she said, thoughtfully. Then, sounding almost bored: “No.”

“Your Majesty, please. I beg you—”

“You urge. You beg. You raise your voice to me.” Her tone turned suddenly icy as she rose, eyes narrowed, and spat, “I am Queen. My word is law. Not yours, not your allies, mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered. Her anger was terrifying, and not just because of the notes of Banshee fury that I could hear wrapping themselves around the words.

But she wasn’t done. “I have tolerated your disrespect time and again. I have tolerated the disrespect of your so-called ‘friends.’ I am done, Sir Daye. I am done listening to your mewling protests, your demands for ‘equality,’ your cries for justice you have not earned. You have three days to put your affairs in order. At the end of that time, I will expect you to be outside my demesne.” Her eyes were cold. “Flee to your liege, if you like; so long as you remain confined within his Duchy, I will not challenge you. I respect his rights as your regent that far. No further. Should you set foot outside the bounds of Shadowed Hills but within the Mists after that time has passed, I will see you brought before my Court on charge of treason. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

I stared at her in horror, trying to absorb what I was hearing. Yes, I had been disrespectful, but I had also saved her Kingdom over and over again. At some point, that should have earned me a little leeway. Instead, it had earned me a faster path to exile.

“That isn’t fair,” protested Quentin. “She never disobeyed you.”

“It is my Kingdom, little fosterling, and I shall ban whomsoever I like from its shores. Watch that I don’t ban you alongside her.” She turned toward Tybalt. “And you? Are you going to argue for her?”

Please don’t, I thought, wishing desperately that he could hear me. Please, please don’t.

“No,” said Tybalt.

“Good. Uncharacteristically wise.” The Queen’s eyes swung back to me. “Have you any other questions, Sir Daye?”

“No, Your Majesty.” I dug my nails into my palms until it felt like they would break the skin. “May I be excused? I have a great deal of packing to do.”

She settled back into her throne. “Yes, you may. You and all your merry little band of sycophants.”

I curtsied again, not trusting my voice. Then I turned and plunged into the crowd, not pausing to see whether Tybalt and Quentin were behind me. I knew they would be, just like I knew that May and Jazz would already be moving toward the exit. We all got there about the same time, moving through the clumps of whispering and pointing people, some of whom weren’t bothering to be subtle about it. My eyes were burning. I resisted the urge to wipe them. I’d be damned before I let the Queen see me cry.

Tybalt caught my wrist before I could charge out into the cave that connected the Queen’s knowe to the mortal world. “Let me see you out,” he murmured. “Please. I wouldn’t put it past her to play some final prank if we were to use her front door.”

I looked at him, the threatened tears finally beginning to fall, and nodded.

“We shall see you outside,” he said to the others, Quentin included. Then he pulled me into the thin shadow cast by a pillar, and out of the world entirely.

The cold wasn’t as bad this time, maybe because Tybalt didn’t have to focus on pulling two of us through the darkness. He was able to keep me closer to him. My tears froze against my eyelashes. I let them. This wasn’t the time for crying. This was the time for getting pissed.